DARTH
VADER COMMITS YODA TO A MENTAL ASYLUM
A short film about human compassion – by Jonathan Hicks A large white van pulls up outside Redwood Hospital for the Mentally Imbalanced. DARTH VADER climbs from the front seat, as well as two STORMTROOPERS in long white coats. They move to the rear of the van where they remove YODA, wrapped in a straight jacket and being wheeled in the small version of Hannibal Lector’s trolley. VADER: (In
his deep, menacing voice and mechanical wheezing) Take him
to reception. The three men walk up the steps. They
walk about for a while trying to find the main reception but have no luck. Finally, VADER
walks to a JANITOR and grabs him by the throat. VADER: Where is the
reception desk? JANITOR:
(Struggling for breath) I… only started this
morning… I’m… on a cleaning rotor… VADER:
Why isn’t the reception desk clearly signposted? There is the ugly sound of breaking
celery and VADER throws the body to the floor. VADER:
Commander! Search this building until you find reception! A few minutes later, one of the
STORMTROOPERS finds the reception desk and informs DARTH VADER. TROOPER
#1: Lord Vader! I have found the reception desk. VADER:
Excellent. Good work, Bob. The men and the small green captive approach the reception desk where a middle aged woman sits, looking at them incredulously. RECEPTIONIST:
Can I help you? VADER: I
wish to commit this individual for psychiatric evaluation and treatment. REC.:
You wanna lock him up? VADER:
You got it, sister. He’s a barmy as a whacked out hippy that’s just had his
first hallucinogenic drug whilst already under the influence of alcohol. REC.:
That’s bad. YODA is wheeled forward. He is giggling and blowing raspberries. YODA:
Hmmm… powerful Jedi am I… When I get free your ass I will kick… mmm… REC.:
Looks bad. Why exactly do you want him committed? VADER:
He claims he can lift an X-Wing. REC.: A
what? VADER:
An X-Wing. You know, the Incom T-65… TROOPER
#1: Space superiority starfighter. TROOPER
#2: Top of its class in its first three production runs, but now outdated by newer, faster
ships. REC.:
Okay… VADER:
Anyway, this guy reckons he can lift one. That’s crazy talk. YODA:
Judge me by my size, do you? VADER:
Quiet, snotball. So, what do you think? REC.:
Are you sure he isn’t just boasting? I mean, committing him seems a little extreme. VADER leans forward to speak privately
with the RECEPTIONIST, talking behind his hand. VADER:
Look, the truth is, he’s the last of the Jedi and I need rid of him. After a recent
poll it turns out he’s too cute to kill so I’ll just make him disappear, yeah? I
can make it worth your while… (He rubs his thumb and forefinger together) REC.: (Aghast) Mister Vader! Are you offering me money? VADER: (A
little embarrassed) Yeah… maybe… REC.:
How much? VADER:
Lots. REC.:
Fine. His ass is ours. I’ll have to fill in some paperwork. Can I take your name,
please? VADER:
Darth Vader. REC.:
Nice name. VADER:
Well, actually, Darth is a title, not a name. REC.:
So, what’s your full name? VADER:
No, it’s just Darth Vader. REC.:
But I need a first and second name for this form. I can’t just put ‘Vader’.
Do you know how many Vader’s there are around here? VADER:
Look, just put Darth Vader, okay? REC.:
But that’s a title. VADER:
Can’t you just make it up? I’m paying money for this! REC.:
Just how dishonest do you think I am? VADER:
Okay! Okay! (Leans forward and whispers) Anakin
Skywalker. REC.:
What? VADER:
My name. That’s my name. REC.:
Fine. And this guy? (Points at Yoda) VADER:
Yoda, Jedi Master. Actually, leave out the ‘Jedi’ bit. And the
‘Master’. REC.:
Sounds like an important title. What’s his other name? There are a few moments of silence as
VADER and the two STORMTROOPERS exchange looks. VADER: I
don’t know. Lads? TROOPER
#2: No idea, my Lord. TROOPER
#1: Not a clue, Darth… my Lord, sorry. VADER:
Sorry, we don’t have a clue. REC.:
Sorry, can’t help you. VADER:
What!? REC.:
Look, on my form it’s got first and last name blocks, without those details you
don’t get in. Sorry. VADER:
But I’m Darth Vader! Dark Lord of the Sith! Second only to the Emperor himself!
Listen, sister, I’ve got friends in high places. REC.:
Don’t you take that tone with me, you rude little man! VADER:
Little? Little! I’m two bloody metres tall, you blind bitch! REC.:
Well, I never… I’ve never been so insulted! VADER:
That’s a shock; I’d have thought they’d been queuing up. Just commit the
little snotball and I’ll get out of here! I’ve got a Rebel ship to intercept
before lunch and I’m already behind! REC.:
Get out! Get out or I’ll call security! VADER:
Fine! I’ll take him where he’ll be safely tucked away! Where no one will find
him! Where his age and stupid vocabulary and grizzled uselessness will blend with his
surroundings! REC.:
Oh, yeah? And where’s that? VADER:
The House of Commons! Bob, Eric – let’s go! Exit VADER and STORMTROOPERS. END. |