Jar Jar reclined on the small sofa in Sheev Palpatine’s quarters. The Chancellor had been very insistent that Jar Jar come tonight, despite Ambassador Amidala’s unavailability. While the Gungan found that strange, he was choosing to believe it was a measure of Palpatine’s and, perhaps, Amidala’s confidence in his abilities. He was musing on this and staring out the tinted window at the busy streets of Coruscant when he heard the door whisper open behind him. Jar Jar sat up immediately, hoping that the Chancellor wouldn’t think that he was day-dreaming, when he noticed that Palpatine wasn’t wearing his traditional stodgy robes with the high collar. Or, rather, he was but the shirt was unbuttoned to Palpatine’s chest.

“Yousa missed some there, Chancellor,” said Jar Jar, his eyes drawn to the liver-spotted sunken chest bared before him.

“Oh, no, I didn’t miss anything,” said Palpatine, gliding effortlessly across the floor. Soon, his skeletal hands were on Jar Jar’s shoulders. “Everything I do is carefully planned, exactly measured.” One of the hands slid down to Jar Jar’s nethers, and Palpatine leaned in so close that Jar Jar could smell his rotting breath and feel the heat of his mouth. Palpatine whispered, “Everyhing.”

“What yousa doin’,” said Jar Jar, trembling, though not even he could tell whether it was with fear or anticipation.

“You know full well, my Gungan friend,” said Palpatine, and his thin stretched lips found Jar Jar’s neck.

Jar Jar was woken from his day-dream by the door actually opening. Palpatine walked in, fully dressed, and the Gungan shifted position to hide his eagerness. The Chancellor didn’t even notice him at first, walking over to a small desk covered neatly with paperwork and taking a piece of paper and reading it. Jar Jar imagined, briefly, taking the Chancellor on that desk, bending his leader over it and letting lust take its course. He stopped himself, though, and merely coughed politely.

Palpatine looked up and saw the Gungan for the first time. “Oh, it’s you. Why are you here, Ambassador?”

“Yousa called me,” said Jar Jar, hoping this was some game the Chancellor was playing with him. The thought excited him

“Oh. I can’t imagine why,” said Palpatine. “You are dismissed.”

Jar Jar walked out of the room and right into the broad and noble chest that made Palpatine look like a desiccated carrot. The Gungan looked up, right into the shining blue eyes of Matsu Her-O, savior of the Fictosphere. He put his broad, strong hand on Jar Jar’s shoulder. The Gungan shuddered and Matsu spoke.

“He’s toying with you, Jar Jar. Using his Sith mind tricks to drive you insane with lust,” said Matsu. “You have to be strong enough to overcome him. Do you think you can?”

Jar Jar shook his head, feeling his cheek rub against the rugged hero’s hand. “Mesa not able to fight him. Mesa love him.”

Matsu closed his eyes and said, “So be it. I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, but I’m not. Not really.”

With one swift move, Matsu tore Jar Jar in half so that the Gungan’s heart fell to the ground. He tossed the head to his trusted associate, the vampire Ethan Crane who laughed at the new trophy, and stormed into Palpatine’s office. The old man’s robes were open and Matsu averted his eyes so quickly that the sight was erased from his mind forever. He tore the heart in two and tossed both pieces on Palpatine’s desk.

“Palpatine, you broke that simpleton’s heart,” said Matsu. “You’ll pay for that, and all your other crimes.”

Palpatine laughed. “You think my master would allow you to stymy my efforts, the long years of labor to build towards the ultimate goal? You’re a fool, Matsu Her-O! A fool!”

The Force lighting that erupted from Palpatine’s withered hands were mere tickles against Matsu’s muscular body, and Matsu screamed and cupped his hands together for his standard beam attack. It seared Palpatine from existence, leaving only an empty burning room and unfulfilled memories.

“We’re done here,” said Matsu. “We’re done.”