The Star Wars Line Tales Prologue

This was my final project for medieval lit this year. The assignment was to write a Canterbury Tales-style prologue in a modern setting. I wracked my brain trying to think of a modern pilgrimage. This is what came to mind. I don't know what I got on it yet, but I post it now in celebration of StarWarsRelatedChicaneryCon. All characters are based on people I either actually did encounter in the Star Wars line or at Celebration. Some, of course, with a certain amount of elaboration and exaggeration.

When in May begins the movie season
Of summer blockbusters, for just this reason:
The school year for the children has its end
And every boy and girl their way may wend
By daytime to the theaters to see
More blood and gore and sex than on TV
The network censors ever will allow,
And, too, a bit of humor with a cow,
When also film producers hope to earn
Enough to get a fairly large return
And use that money first to pay their cast
And then the crew, but probably not last
Themselves, and with that cash they then may buy
A boat or plane or house six stories high,
Then each three years since 1999
The Star Wars fans begin to form their line
Around their local movie house to see
The latest of the prequel trilogy
Which Lucasfilm and ILM and George
Have used the best in CGI to forge.
It happened on the eighteenth night of May
That I got in a car and made my way,
With excitement filled from head to toe,
To the final Star Wars midnight show
And got there near the time the clock struck nine,
The better to secure my place in line.
I found myself among a lively crowd
Some dozen people, festive, fun, and loud
Who with me on the sidewalk stood and spoke
And soon I felt quite friendly with these folk
A truly good thing, as you well may guess;
I’d be with them three hours, more or less.
And so we stood in happy company
Waiting, as I said, for Star Wars III.
Before I go on, since I have the time
I will describe them each for you, in rhyme,
Their dress and speech and manner, as it seemed--
The largest part of these were Star Wars-themed,
To fit the time and place, you may recall,
So with a Knight I’ll begin first of all.
There was a Knight, a goodly man and bold
Who from the day when he was ten years old
And first saw A New Hope had been a fan,
And over time he’d grown into a man
Keeping in his mind each day, of course,
Old Ben and Yoda’s teachings on the Force.
He’d often quote these ancient Masters, too:
“There is no try, only ‘do not’ or ‘do;’”
“Size matters not,” and “Darth, you cannot win.”
He also quite enjoyed Qui-Gon Jinn.
Serenity and patience were his mode;
He kept in all things to the Jedi Code
And wore his homemade Jedi robes with pride.
He knew well to beware of the dark side.
This whole day he had taken as vacation
From work, for his more Earthly occupation
Was by day insurance underwriter,
Though at his desk he kept a small TIE fighter.
He’d been to every prequel film premiere,
And gone to the convention each third year.
He told us as a child he’d been meek
And beaten up for being such a geek,
But he had persevered for, come what might
He was a true and perfect Jedi Knight.
He had his son with him, his Padawan,
A fine young lad, not one to frown upon.
He also in his Jedi robes was dressed;
He was perhaps nine years of age, I guessed.
He ran and pranced and jumped about the scene
As one who’s had much sugar or caffeine,
And though the father tried to calm his son,
The boy was simply having too much fun.
He’d never been out quite this late before
And, in excitement, Father would ignore.
There also was a Newbie sort of girl
Who’d never had a lightsaber to twirl,
Nor one desired; with her friends she’d come
Poor thing, she thought the whole ordeal was dumb.
She looked upon the long line with disdain
And spoke to us as if we were insane,
And when someone drove past, she’d hide her face,
Embarrassed to be seen in such a place.
Her friends were two Fangirls, I’d guarantee
For in the cutest way they’d exclaim, “Squee!”
When looking on the posters, and they’d grin;
They’d come there to watch Ewan and Hayden.
Off to the side two Boys fought a duel;
Each battled with a fierceness almost cruel.
They fought with great technique and finest art
And lightsabers they’d purchased at Wal-Mart.
One lightsaber was red and one was blue,
Traditional Jedi and Sith lord hues,
And certain members of the waiting throng
Began to hum that awesome dueling song.
The line was stunned by all their acrobatics,
The result of lots of time and practice,
And though they’d fallen far behind in school,
No one could say their fighting wasn’t cool.
There was nearby a portly Dark Sith Lord
Who also had a crimson laser sword—
The more expensive type of fiberglass
Though his suit was too cumbersome, alas,
To wield his dark side weapon properly,
But a more fearsome figure could not be,
Save that he weighed more than Vader should,
But his costuming was very good.
He spoke about the lesser quality
Of the Star Wars prequel trilogy,
And how the newer films could not compare
To Luke and Han and Leia’s headphone-hair,
And said that CG creatures hurt his eyes,
So perhaps he meant with his disguise
To make himself unable these to see,
Or fancy Carrie’s hair on Natalie.
Standing near to him, only by chance,
There stood an Amidala, and one glance
At her served Vader’s argument to bury;
Star Wars hairstyles are hereditary.
Not one word did she say to the Sith,
But instead spoke of influential myth
On prequel themes—a pro-prequel crusader
Quite different from the Lord was Lady Vader.
Further back, and standing by herself,
There was a single Tolkien-style Elf.
In her costume, too, she had shown care,
And a certain true dramatic flair.
It made her look quite fair and elegant,
Though where she’d wear it after this event
I could not even guess, perhaps to some
Event relating to her own fandom.
Her hair was long, and stuck upon each ear
A small pointy attachment did appear.
The dress was like to one Galadriel
Had worn in Lorien beside her well.
She scowled a bit but, as she made no fuss,
We tolerated her as one of us.
Another Boy was there of late-teen age,
No youngling and yet not an ancient sage,
Yet when engaged in pleasant conversation,
He proved himself as full of information
Relating to the films as anyone.
He knew the name of each Tatooine sun
And the planet Dooku was count of
And the make of Anakin’s black glove
And the captain of the Tantive IV
And what the heck is in a power core,
Yet he did not boast nor did he tease,
Not even in the language of Huttese.
He was a pleasant dork, I do believe,
And nice to stand next to on Star Wars eve.
A Trekkie there was near us with a sign;
He’d come to anger people in the line
And raise the old debate of Wars and Trek
And which is excellent and which a wreck.
He, too, had pointy ears, for he was Spock,
A character the Wars fans like to mock.
His sign read, “Star Wars sucks!” which made us boo,
And say, “Go home! There’s only one of you!”
Our Vader, in his anger nearly blind,
Then tried to choke the Trekkie with his mind.
To see what all this ruckus was about,
The Manager of the theater came out.
He had not had this job for very long,
And really didn’t want to do things wrong,
But with the midnight hour drawing nigh
The fans outside were starting up a cry
To be let in, but with so little room,
Opening the doors was certain doom.
He said as follows: “Everybody, please!
Quiet down, I beg you on my knees!
I cannot let you in yet, understand
That other films are playing now as planned!
I’m sorry, but you have to wait out here
Or chaos will ensue for us, I fear.
Can’t you think of some amusing way
To stave off all your boredom and dismay?
Oh, this is worse than Return of the King!
Tell each other stories or something!
Then the listeners may each attest
As to which of your tales is the best.”
He looked at us in such a sorry way,
We told him his idea was okay.
We’d do it if he stayed with us to judge,
Impartial as he was from fandom grudge.
Relieved, the panicked manager agreed
And urged us to begin with greatest speed.
The Jedi Knight we voted then would start
And this is the tale he did impart.


Please do not copy or republish Erin's work without her express written permission. Thank you!