WARNING: This is a mash-up. It's Star Wars fan-fiction, written in the style of Irvine Welsh's Trainspotting. I absolutely adore both so it comes from a place of genuine love, but be aware that the second of these influences means that the post contains some of the foulest language ever to appear on this blog. If the swearing will be a problem for you, there are lots of far less profane posts right here. For everyone else, strap in...
Photo credit: Sideshow/Kotobukiya.
Greedo looks well. He boonces intae Chalmun's wi a smooth jaunt that suggests while he moves quietly, there's a surplus ay energy aboot tae come burstin oot. Ah've seen it look like nerves before, bit today he comes aff like he's full ay purpose. Makes a nice change.
— Awright Dengs, he sais. There's a smile in his voice. That's unusual bit ah'm no gonnae fling it back at'im.
— Aye, ah sais. — Been up tae much?
— Jist gettin by man, tryin tae dae ma best in this toon, ken? It's no easy, likesay. His voice cracks at the end. He puts his bottle on the table and sits doon wi the shadow ay a wince.
Now ah see that Greedo doesnae look sae well. Ah've met enough Rodians tae know that their eyes shouldnae be that cloudy, even oan a disease infested shite hole like Tatooine. He's lived here since he wis a bairn so ah think ah've taken it fir granted, bit the air cannae be guid fir him. He needs mair moisture, regular swamp-baths. That skin, though. That's no the air, that's him back oan the spice.
— Jist back fae Jabba's likes, he's go'a few new joabs oan, he sais. That's nae guid either. Any pickup fae the Hutt is likely tae be the dirtiest bastard at the lowest price goin. That fat fucker didnae get where he is by bein magnanimous. Still, at least oor boy's tryin tae work, an it's definitely better than takin hits fae the Empire.
It's shite bein a boonty hunter. Some people hate the Empire. Ah don't, they're just wankers. We, on the other hand, come crawlin fir scraps from wankers. Like abused spouses slopin home wi their heeds hangin low, wonderin how 'they' can make things better and no get belted again. Fer an absolute pittance, the Imps huv goat us scourin the systems fir smugglers they cannae be ersed tae deal with, even though it's their ain slack approach tae "galactic security" that's created these channels tae begin wi. We're basically huntin oor ain until some moff pulls oor names oot ay a hat. We're the scum o'the fuckin galaxy. Cannae even pick a decent culture to be the low-paid, legally disposable enforcers of.
— There's guild joabs still comin through though, ah tells Rodes. — Go'tae be safer, man.
— Aye, they're no gien things mah way at the minute likesay. Fell behind wi ma dues last year and they've pit me aff the list, man. Bit ah've go'tae work cause ah need the poppy, ken? His eyes start tae make a pleadin look wi that last sentence. Like he's aboot tae tap me fir cash. Ah've goat tae shut that shite doon pronto.
— We can help wi yer subs man, me and Bossko ken a few people an'aw. Bit yuv goat tae keep yer action clean, aye?
— Ah ken whit ye mean Dengs. He's more quiet now, almost confessional. — Ah'm jist... daein a bit ay gear at the moment, man. Jist at nights, ken? Tae wind doon an that. It's no like it wis, though.
Like fuck it's no. The problem is that spice slows Rodes doon. No physically, if anythin he's quicker than ever when he's high, bit the decision makin behind that. He jist dithers aboot, like he's in a trance or somethin. That's no guid oan a joab, it'll get ye killed. An'if a target disnae take him oot, Bossk probably will. The Trando's a volatile bastard at the best ay times, bit get between him an'a payaff and he'll chib ye like it wis yir ain heed oan the puck. The Rodian's handy tae have aroond though. Ah mean he's slight so he's nae guid in a proper swedge, an the spice jist makes him thinner. If anyone comes inside his firin arc then Rodes is goin on his erse at a minimum. Bit he's always been shite-hoat wi guns. Pistol, rifle, rocket launcher; if it's go'a trigger, that Greedo'll get the joab done. Bit whit use is that whin he's too spaced oot tae pull it?
No, between his precarious profession and his personality problems, this will not end well for the Rodian. And wuv bin doon this road so many times it's practically named efter him. Ah like'im bit ah can jist feel it. It's a deed end this time. Greedo will not survive summer in Mos Eisley.
Aye ah cannae talk, bit still. Ah've bin known tae dabble fae time tae time, bit spice disnae affect humans the same way. Well no quite the same anyways. An'ah see the attraction, it's the simplicity. When yir oan spice, yuv only go one worry: stimmin. When yir aff it, yir suddenly obliged tae worry about all sorts ay other shite. Go'a target, too much chasin; ha'nae go'a target, nae money fir hyperfuel. Go'ay lassie, cannae get away tae work; ha'nae go'ay lassie... well, ye end up here in doontoon Mos Eisley fixin that.
Ah'm okay, though. Playin it cool wi Aurra Sing at the moment. Ah think ah'm in there, bit ah dinnae want tae move too fast an'blow it. She keeps hangin aroond'aes so ah mist be daein somethin right. No that ye can really build relationships oan the hunt. Ye can barely build acquaintanceships.
— Nae friends in this game, awnly associates, as Boab says. Mind, enough ay his associates huv been shafted over the years that ah'm pretty sure there are nae fuckers left who want tae be his friend tae start wi. He's guid tae huv inside the tent pissin oot, bit that's aboot it. Still, sooner or later it'll be mah name comin up oan an Imperial chain code an'ah fuckin know that Boab'll be first in line tae pick that'n up.
Mebbe ah can git oot. Bit ah'll need mair cash, an'ah can only dae that by stayin in. This shite's too complicated. There's all sorts ay reasons to be oot o'the boonty huntin' business, aye. Bit then, who needs reasons when yuv goat spice..?
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
In the run-up to 2015's 
And so it goes. Weeks turn into months, the lockdown steadily lifts (for now, at any rate) and cinemas begin to staggeringly open their doors once more. As anyone dropping in will be aware, it's been pretty quiet around these parts of late. And not just in writing about movies, but also even watching them to begin with. There are plenty of people who can review what they watch in their living rooms better than I can, so I've used this enforced downtime as just that - downtime