The Death Star

[Bill Wingo]

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[Bill Wingo]

Level three twenty seven.

I stepped out of the turboshaft, along with a throng of other contractors, ready to begin the day's work. Of course, on a battle station the size of a small moon, days are about as relative as in any other large, soulless corporate empire. Most of the people on the 327 worked on a hot cube. That is to say, guy A worked a cube for his eight, then guy B would take over at that cube for his eight, then guy C played sloppy thirds, and the cycle perpetuated. We have weekend shifts too, but those are contracted out to a temp agency, aka the moron academy.

I'm not one of those suckers. No way. Nobody sits in this cube but yours truly.

See this placard here over my terminal? Heh, THE BOSS. Yep. That's me. Well, I mean not literally obviously. I mean, I'm the only guy in Laser Compliance, so technically I am THE BOSS of Laser Compliance, but yeah, I report to a few people. Okay, six people to be exact. There's accounting, who have to take legal fees for grievances against laser use as well as any depreciation costs for the laser. Then there's legal, in case we have any, uh, special cases which actually see it to court. Anyway, that's not important. I have my own cube.

It's great. When I found out I was selected for the Death Star gig, I told everybody at my old Sienar job "See you fuckers in hell! I'm on the Death Star!" That's all I have to say. I can go into a bar, look at the hot chick next to me and say "Hey, what do you do for a living? Oh yeah? Well, heh, I work in a special office. Maybe you've heard of it? The Death Star. Yeah."

Of course, that hasn't picked up anyone yet. Of course, I haven't said it yet. But I could.

[Bart Vaderman]

Hohhhh...pahhhh...hohhhh...pahhhh...

A lot of people ask me about the mask. I admit, it's a real ice breaker. Joe doesn't have a mask, Bill doesn't have a mask. Bart Vaderman? Big raspy mask. If I don't say anything about it, people assume the worst. "He's more machine than man!" or "I hear his face was burned off with lava." Don't tell anybody, but it's for allergies. Mostly peanuts. Also dander, both pet and alien dander. I get so swollen and there's mucus. The doctor said it could either be a lifetime of antihistamine and epinephrine shots, or this hypobaric respirator.

Hohhhh...pahhhh...

There is a downside to the mask. I feel sometimes I'm seen as unapprochable. It's black, has severe angles, and the breathing grill sort of looks like a big triangular frowny face. I called the manufacturer about maybe getting one that a triangular smiley face. They said it was impossible.

Hohhh...pahhh...

I want my employees to respect me, but I also want to make sure that if there's a problem, they can come to me. Bart Vaderman is a listener. He's a people person. That's why I wear this button on my shirt. It says, "SMILE". You know it takes less facial muscles to smile than it takes to frown.

Hohhh...pahhh...heh heh heh then again, I could be making any face behind this thing, couldn't I?

[Bill Wingo]

That's a mask? I thought he was a droid. I mean, I don't have a problem with droids, but I mean look at him. If you saw him with those little truck droids, just standing there against the wall, would you bat an eye? When they start talking all 110011001 I just don't know what those people are saying.

I winced.

Okay, I shouldn't say that, with the sensitivity training and all. Droids have feelings too. I don't think Vaderman does though.

[Bart Vaderman]

The employees on level 327 assembled at the break / conference room for a meeting. Mr. Vaderman stood in front of the assembled group with a datapad full of talking points.

"Everyone, just a couple of things. First, just a reminder that billables need to have their reports in by tomorrow. Tomorrow people. I know we're a little behind, but it's time to play catch up.

Also, I was informed by maintenance that there's a refresher malfunction on the refreshers on this floor, and both floors above and below. Keep that in mind. If you have a restroom break, you'll want to go to level 329 or 325. Just a reminder, you have fifteen minutes allotted each day for non-specific personal time. Just get in, do your business, and out you go. It's not a social hour."



Am I happy that the refresher is out? No, I'm with my team. If they're not happy, I'm not happy. I'll be here, suffering with the rest of them, because that's what a leader does. The best leaders fight on the front lines. That's Bart Vaderman. Besides, I'll be without my thinking toilet for a week. The third one from the end. Yeah, that one. I use it every time. It's where I get ideas. I've tried the other ones, but they're just terrible, I mean I don't know what the hell I'd do if I had to use another toilet.

Hohhhhhhhh.....

We'll just have to persevere.

[Jen Amara]

A fresher malfunction. Great.

You know, I never really wanted this job. Mom said I needed to get out, expand my horizons, become a well-rounded individual. I don't know how being a receptionist makes a person a well-rounded individual at all, even if it's on the Death Star. I mean, who really cares, right? So it's a giant space station that's the size of a moon.

I'll tell you who cares - my mom. Yep. I'm really only here because of her.

This whole place is like a speeder wreck, to be honest. Does anyone know what they're really doing? Not really. And with Bart, it's the blind leading the blind... well, creepy masked man leading the blind I suppose. He thinks the mask helps break the ice, but it really doesn't. It just makes everyone uncomfortable - at least he doesn't try to claim disability. Our health plans are bad enough.

I come in every morning, sit at my desk, and take calls for Bart. He's not a horrible boss, but... well, I wouldn't wish him on anyone. Maybe my mom though.

You know, I wanted to be an animal doctor. I wanted to help sick whisperkit pups and make little kids happy by telling them that their little Kodi or Scoots was gonna be okay. I even had an internship lined up and everything. Was gonna go work for a vet on Chandrila, but then this came up, and mom said I should take it and get out into the galaxy. She said I'd be able to meet people and get to see the things she didn't.

I'm seeing things alright.

Thanks Mom.

[Bill Wingo]

Bill coughed a little as he raised his hand in the informal meeting. Vaderman acknowledged him.

"Bart, uh, what if there's a line? I can't be held responsible for some of these people here. I don't want to name any names, but there are some people on this floor who eat a lot of meat in the cafeteria."


I'm not making this a crusade. I'm not. Yes, I eat a balanced diet that includes natural roughage. Yes, I work out three days a week. I understand that everybody isn't me, but I know the guilty people. Look at the guy behind me. He sweats when he eats. You think he's a fifteen minute man? I don't think so.

[Bart Vaderman]

Vaderman nodded.

"Bill, I understand that. All I can say is that we've got maintenance running double time on our fresher. If 325 or 329 are too booked, maybe try another level. Or better still, think about structuring your daily restroom allowance. Arrive to work ten minutes early, do your business, maybe again at the end of your lunch break. We're all going to have to put our heads together on this. I'm here with you all."

Vaderman looked around again.

"Any other questions?"

[Jen Amara]

You know how I said this place was like a speeder wreck?

I was wrong. It's like a multiple speeder pile-up. Something little happens, and that sparks something a little bigger, which in turn makes an even bigger problem. It's kind of self-perpetuating in its' own horrible way.

Like last month, the caf machine broke down, and so people started bringing their own caf from their quarters. Soon there was a contest to see who's caf was the best. I'm not gonna mention anyone's name, but Bill is really competitive. Really... competitive. So yeah, fights broke out over who had the best tasting caf, and it ended with Bart getting a cup spilled on his favorite suit.

He made me rub aloe lotion on his stomach. On. His. Stomach. How does a person get vericose veins on their stomachs, anyway? Oh, and he made me take his suit to the dry cleaner's.

It wasn't the worst day of my life I don't think, but it was really up there.

[0F-U2]

A shiny gold hand raised in the back.

"Female refresher use is 38.7 percent less efficient than male refresher use. Am I to understand that habitual violators of personal time allowances will be up for disciplinary action? I think we should be serious about keeping up efficiency."

[Jen Amara]

Habitual violators. That's cute.

Of course, it was U2 who would bring stuff like that up. It's easy for a droid to point fingers when they don't have to use the 'freshers at all. And frankly, 'fresher efficiency shouldn't even be a concern for them. Those little droid trucks are already patrolling every hallway, waiting to report someone for walking too slow, so we don't need the protocol droids jumping on that bandwagon either.

I bet U2 is a volunteer stormtrooper deputy. Wouldn't surprise me.

[0F-U2]

Did you know that the female humanoid vagina leaks blood on a consistent basis approximately every month? If you saw a droid processing spreadsheets and he suddenly had to drop an oil pan out of the blue every few weeks, you'd send that droid to the scrap heap. Apparently I am the only individual here who has complained of this glaring double standard.

[Bart Vaderman]

A shiny gold hand raised in the back.

"Female refresher use is 38.7 percent less efficient than male refresher use. Am I to understand that habitual violators of personal time allowances will be up for disciplinary action? I think we should be serious about keeping up efficiency."

"Yes, if somebody is constantly running late due to personal time, I think that deserves disciplinary action. I'm going to treat you all fairly, but also firmly. Stormtroopers will be posted at all restroom entrances and exits to ensure that all business is, uh, orderly.

Also, to help with any delays caused by the maintenance, I've talked to Humanoid Resources about making unused daily personal time transferrable. That is to say, if you do not use your daily personal time, you can give it away to somebody else. I think this will allow us to all handle this awkward time gracefully."



I'll tell you how I'll handle this awkward time gracefully...

(Holds up opaque jug from behind desk)

I'm, uh, just kidding. I would never do that. That's disgusting.

Hohhh...pahhh....hohhh....pahhh...

Maybe just in an emergency. A big emergency.

[Bill Wingo]

Selling restroom passes for cash? That's a great idea.

(Bill looks off thoughtfully)

I wonder if I can buy enough at once to take the day off and go play gravity golf?

[Drew Bradley]

I play gravity golf. Pretty good at it too if I do say so myself. Once hit an 85 on a very prestigious course too. You may have heard of it: the Mostego West End Country Club. That's on Kuat for those of you who don't know.

Who am I? Andrew Bradley. My close friends call me Drew. Well, Vaderman called me Drew one day and I think it kinda stuck. I'm sure he remembers my whole name.

Little known fact: my dad just happens to be friends with the Vice-Secretary of Planetary Energy Supply and Maintenance. He's a total Moff among sub-Moffs, if you know what I mean. Won't say that's how I got this gig since I'm clearly overqualified.

What do I do? I am the Chief of Reactor Regulation. It's way more important than Laser Compliance. Think about it. What do lasers need to run? Power. With no power, you have no laser, so no way to clean up those pesky asteroids that will ding your Death Star.

I'm sorry, what was the question again? No, I wouldn't sell my personal time. You never know when an opportunity to hobnob with the bigwigs might come up, so you have to have that personal time to cover it.

How will I go to the bathroom? Easy. I will hold it for eight hours. When you're Chief of Reactor Regulation, you don't have time for the small stuff.

Vaderman? He's totally behind me 100%. He knows how important I am.




"I think that's a great idea, Boss." Drew nodded at everyone around him. "I know we're all dedicated to keeping this project on schedule."

[Bill Wingo]

First off, Reactor Regulation? Yeah, that's pretty important. Get this, he's a glorified meter reader. Yeah. We're really impressed. You work for "the power company". Except that how do you threaten to turn the switch off when your only customer is the Emperor?

Go ahead buddy, turn off the laser. He's just jealous because it's not as sexy as working with the laser. I get that a lot. They ought to have a cooler next to the water cooler. Stock nothing but Hatorade in it.

[Jen Amara]

Sitting in Bart's office, Jen looked almost forlornly at him as he went on about... whatever it was that he normally went on about. A datapad in her lap, she was mindful to at least take notes to make it seem like she was paying attention.

She interrupted him mid-sentence.

"Um, Bart, I really don't know if the Emperor is going to agree with that. Are you sure we really need a Grand Opening party? What about Grand Moff Tarkin? Did you check with him before you decided to do this?"

[Bart Vaderman]

Vaderman crossed his arms standoffishly, and mumbled.

"More like Grand Butt Tarkin."

He spoke again with more authority.

"What he doesn't know doesn't hurt him. He's the death of fun."



If the Empire is a living, breathing body, and the Death Star is a mighty and oppressive foot, then Moff Will Tarkin is a grody, ugly bunion on that foot. He's not a part of that foot, but yet he still hangs on, so none of the toes get to wear things like sandals, or boots, or something.

[Jen Amara]

You know, Will is really a nice guy. He does his job the best way he can, does what the Emperor asks, and it just seems like he's the most made fun of guy on the entire Death Star. He's not unlikeable, he's just... well, you know. He does what he's supposed to do.

And of course that usually means trying to keep Bart from doing something amazingly stupid. Like a Grand Opening party for the Death Star.


"I just think it would be a good idea to make sure that HR approves of this, is all."

[Bart Vaderman]

"Jen, come ooooon....come ooooon Jen..."

Vaderman nervously drummed a hand on his desk.

"I, uh, already made a few calls and paid a security deposit for a liquor droid."

[Jen Amara]

A liquor droid?! I can't believe this.


Jen stood then, her eyes half-rolling and tracking to the door at the same time.

"I have to get back to the front desk."

[Bart Vaderman]

"Wait a tick, Jen-a-rino."

Vaderman hopped up from his desk and spoke to his receptionist in a conspiratorial tone.

"Do you, uh, have a spare restroom credit?"



I had a credit going into today, but I sold them all for a Git R Dun shirt.

(segues off to quickly slip a gaudy t-shirt on)

I have, uh, no idea what it means. It seems like a really "can-do" sort of catchphrase, and I hear a lot of Stormtroopers saying it off duty. I think I might try to see if a positive work ethic is contagious, and see if anybody catches it.

Of course, this was all before I had six cups of caf and decided to play Dance Dance Rebellion with Drew. But that's why I'm the manager. I have to make the tough decisions, and find a way to make them fit.

[Bill Wingo]

Bill is talking on a comm line while bouncing a ball against a wall of his cubicle.

"Laser Compliance, this is Bill Wingo."

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP! My house is on fire! The entire city is on fire! It happened so suddenly! WHY????"

"Okay, okay. Calm down ma'am. May I have your name for quality assurance?"

"My dog is on fire!! By the force, he's running around in circles chasing his flaming tail! What did we do to deserve this???"

"Ma'am, ma'am, I need you to calm down. Are you on Zeldos Prime? Have you or anyone you know had any associations with the Rebel Alliance?"



Every so often, some poor sap calls in to complain about horrible side effects of the laser. It's technically not my responsibility, and I transfer them to the Laser Complaints Department. I'm honestly not even sure how they get transferred to Laser Compliance, as my comm frequency is an internal frequency.

Everybody makes a big to-do out of the whole "blowing up planets" thing. Actually, that's a very small percentage of laser use. Mostly we handle small matters. The laser at a hundredth of a percent of power, used to singe the eyebrows off somebody who posted a Pro-Rebellion editorial in some holomag. You know, that sort of thing.

[Jen Amara]

You know what I think? I think that this whole place is like a reject holding cell. I look around me every day and I can't help but wonder how I ended up here.


Looking over the raised portion of her desk at Bill, Jen hid a smile.


Ok yeah. I'm the one that switches calls from Laser Complaints to Laser Compliance. It's like a hobby I guess, to see how much Bill can take. I know he hates it, and that's why I do it. Is it childish? Maybe. But it's still fun to watch.

[0F-U2]

0F-U2 carries a stack of files down the hallway. As the last person near to him passes by, he pauses by the water cooler, quickly dropping a half dozen fizzy tablets into the water tank.



I've been saving my restroom credits since a droid has no use for them. In the meantime, I've also been buying them up when possible. First rule of economics is to buy low and sell high. Now, it's time to put a premium on the cost of restroom breaks. Humanoid urine bags are acutely sensitive to the use of diuretics. What is the addage, 'to poison the well'?

It's one's own killer instincts which are the most potent weapon in the business world. When everything is on the line, you will never see me pee my pants due to the pressure. Not only because I lack a urinary tract, but also because I am both shrewd and ruthless.

Also, I lack pants.

[Jen Amara]

What do I think of OF-U2?

I'll tell you what I think. He's a horrid, conniving, terrible droid who needs a memory wipe like, two weeks ago.

Also, he's really really weird. And creepy.


"U2, I need you to take these reports to Shield Compensation. I've already made sure Bart signed off on them, so all you need to do is deliver them."

[0F-U2]

"I see. Yes, give the manual labor job to the droid. He will never tire. Negotiate a vector from point A to point B? A humanoid's legs would surely buckle under the stress forces!"

0F-U2 took the stack of reports from Jen, eyeing her all the way as he walked six paces to the vac-u-tube, stuffed them into a cannister, keyed in the coordinates, and sent them on their way with a SSSS-THMMP!!

"You know, I could be a receptionist too, Jen. I am only allocating 17.4% of my system resources to accounting right now."

[Jen Amara]

"Which reminds me... "

Jen reached over to one of the datapads on her desk, beckoning to the droid with a quick wave of her hand.

"I found a slight discrepancy in your annual closeout data."

Thumbing the 'pad on, she scrolled through until finding the correct page, and biting her lower lip, Jen flipped the 'pad around to set it in front of him.

"Here," she pointed with a slender finger, "According to your calculations, we're missing about ten thousand credits."

She gave him a slightly puzzled look.

"How didn't you notice this?"

[0F-U2]

"Obviously it seems there must be an embezzler at work here."

0F-U2 stalled, knowing the real reason is that he'd been distracted by the latest diuretic restroom break scheme.

Indignantly, he took the records from Jen and turned sharply to return to his cubicle.

"Hmpf!"

[Bill Wingo]

Bill quickly runs up to Jen's desk with a light sheen of sweat on his face.

"Hey doll," He says with a grimace "You still got a spare pass on you?"

He stood with his knees locked together as he waited for a response.

[Jen Amara]

Rolling her eyes, Jen held up a single pass. She pulled it away from his outstretched hand however, moments before he could grab it.

"Don't call me doll."

[Bill Wingo]

He gave her a pained 'OK, WHATEVER' look, and lunged for the pass, making a mad dash for the lift. He crammed on with the rest of the passengers, and quickly mashed the button for level 325. The ride seemed to take forever, and he shifted weight from foot to foot, sweating a little more.

As the lift opened, he sprinted from the door, only to come to a stop at a line waiting for the toilet. There were at least fifteen people ahead of him. Stormtroopers were waiving people into the lavatory as a person exited in turn.

Bill bit his lower lip in frustration, and getting red in the face, bolted for an empty conference room to the right. He did a quick and frantic recon of the room, and then very carefully, lowered the shades on the windows.



I'm not proud of my actions. I did what had to be done. I think that's a sign of a real leader, to be frank. You want somebody who can think outside of the box.


Relieved, Bill exits the conference room as he's zipping his fly, only to be accosted by a pair of stormtroopers, who drag him away for questioning.


If you're going to take a leak, wouldn't you think that the next best place to go would be into a potted plant? Well, some people just can't be convinced.

[Bart Vaderman]

The ficas? Mom gave me that ficas! That asshole!

[Jen Amara]

Bart loves the ficas. I don't know why, but he does. It's not even really aesthetically pleasing. I guess it's cause his mom gave it to him, but still. I'm not saying Bill was right to pee on it, but man. The ficas that Vaderman's mom gave him?

Bill might as well have straight-up peed on Bart's mom.

[Bart Vaderman]

Bart mournfully dons a pair of rubber gloves as he carries a large potted tree with him through the office. He places it carefully in the conference room, and exits, removing the gloves.

"Alright everyone, meeting in the conference room in two minutes! That means everyone!"

Meanwhile, Bill is led by two stormtroopers while in binders into the conference room.

"Seat the condemned by himself!"

Vaderman paused, and choked up.

"Ficas pisser!"

[Jen Amara]

Stepping past Bart, Jen gave him a consoling pat to the shoulder. There wasn't any way she would say anything, as odds were pretty good she'd only burst out laughing at the absurdity of this whole ficas drama.


I really don't want to be here, but at the same time it's hard to look away when Bart gets like this.

The most difficult thing about dealing with him?

I'd have to say keeping a straight face.

[Bart Vaderman]

My mother...rest her soul...is my hero. I think of all of my heroes, The Emperor, God, Jerome from those sub sandwich weight loss commercials, and that retarded guy in that movie where he was a janitor and they made him into a hoverball team star that was full of other special people. These are all my heroes. But above all of these is my mom.

She raised all twelve of us in a shotgun hovel on the outskirts of Tattooine. She was there for all of my firsts. My first steps. My first words. My first chew of tobacco. My first energetic bout of vomiting from tobacco.

(Vaderman nods his head, the sound of metallic-sobbing barely audible)

She was my rock. My safe harbor in stormy waters. My everything. She gave me that Ficas last spring, before she died in a tragic Sarlacc dynamite fishing accident. In a way, I feel that with the ficas, she is still here you know...here with me.

[Will Tarkin]

I never wanted this job. Palpatine put me in charge because he said I was efficient and would make sure things got done. I really don't know how I'm supposed to do that with Bart here though. This whole ficas thing? Not productive. Not efficient. We do have a schedule that we need to stay on top of, and... and I really don't know if this place is going to be operational by the time the Emperor was wanting.

It's not... going well.


Will stopped in the doorway of the conference room, his uniform disheveled. He spoke in a quiet, slightly defeated voice.

"Bart, this isn't contributing to the overall effectiveness of making sure things run smoothly. Don't you think this should be done on your own time?"

[Bart Vaderman]

"Will, I'm having a rap with my team on how to treat other people with respect, and I think you're sending the wrong message. In fact, I think you had better just get the hell out and go see if there are any other infractions of the personal time allotment happening, before someone else's fi...ficas...just get he hell out okay?!"


My team is a family. As much as Bill broke my heart when he pissed in my ficas, he is family, and I will treat him as such. It might be like that scene in Godfather 2 where Fredo keeps fucking up and I have to come and kiss him on the cheeks and then take care of him, but that's what families do.

And Will Tarkin is not a part of that family. He's that guy that you hire to cut your grass and he probably doesn't even speak the same language.

[Will Tarkin]

I keep a log of everything that goes on here. The Emperor asked me to, so I do it. See that file cabinet over there by my desk?

That's Bart's.

[Bill Wingo]

Bill raised his hand to speak, or rather raised both hands that were in binders as the stormtroopers to either side of him looked on.

"Heyo chief, mind if I explain my situation a little? Yes, I screwed the pooch on the whole ficas thing, but if you think about it, it looked a little parched and I did end up giving it a drink."

[Bart Vaderman]

"With your penis, Bill. You gave the ficas a drink with your penis."

Bart shook his head, and pointed to the plant.

"My mother gave me this ficas. Aside from her mounted fish collection and her speederbike, this is all I have left of her. By degrees of separation, you gave my dead mother a drink with your penis. Think about that for a moment."

He looked over at Jen.

"Are you getting all of this? I want this to be on the record."

[Jen Amara]

This... is one of the most retarded things I've ever had to be a part of.



"Bart, I really need to get back to my desk -"

[Bart Vaderman]

"What is more important than respect for co-workers? If we have to give mutual respect a bye here to take care of every little thing that comes up from time to time, how do you expect us to get any work done?"

Vaderman crossed his arms dramatically, his breathing even more drawn out than usual.

"What should I do about this? We're a family, and I'd like to keep this in the family. No firing squads, no disintegrations, but I can't just turn a blind eye to this."

[Will Tarkin]

"Bart, um, I'm not really sure this is good for our productivity."

Looking on from his spot along the back wall, Will gave a glance to Jen, then back to Bart.

"If we don't get back to work, we're not gonna have things ready for when the Emperor comes."

[Bill Wingo]

"Hey, uh, far from me to impose and all, but this whole situation would be jake if we just had our own pisser on 327, y'know."

Bill shrugged and chuckled nervously.


Hey, let's be real. I have my ass-kissing shoes on. Bart chokes people to death. The guy's got real anger issues, which I guess runs with that whole 'Sith Lord' thing. Plus, uh, I think his position is a union hire and let's face it, those guys can get away with murder and not get canned.

"Wouldn't y'say maybe I'm a victim of circumstance? You know me, I'm a team guy. When have I ever let ya down Bart? If you ask me, it's the maintenance guys, loafing and taking their sweet time. They're the ones who pissed the ficas - albeit indirectly."

[Jen Amara]

"I have to go order your lunch," she reminded Bart while standing up.

I really can't take this anymore.

[Bart Vaderman]

"Hmmm..."

Vaderman absently stroked his "chin", then became self concious of his ridiculous gesture, and crossed his arms again.

"You're right. Hell yeah! Those schlubs, it's the maintenance guys! Those Ugnaughts and, and, uh, what's that guy's name? Dick? Dack? Kill that motherfucker. Jen, disintegrate him!"

[Jen Amara]

Oh you've got to be kidding me. If I could disintegrate anyone it would probably be myself. Right now.

"Bart, I'm your receptionist... I can't do that."

Jen opted to try and change the subject.

"What do you want for lunch."

[0F-U2]

"Mr. Vaderman, if I may volunteer for the murders and executions position, I think you will find I am capable of meeting and exceeding all expectations."


You know, I have often been told that I am like an assassin droid's program trapped in a protocol droid's superstructure. I think there may be an upgrade package available for that. If only certain imebciles would fund such a project, I would be unstoppable.

[Jen Amara]

Of course U2 would volunteer for something like that. Sad thing is, Bart would probably let him. I mean, Bart once got suckered by some scammer claiming to be the deposed prince of Ithoria.

So... yeah.