Luke, I am your dinner that you had thrown away after breaking up with your wife, and you cut your hand off with a lightsaber and cried for a few minutes, and then went to the doctor, to get a robot hand, and go home, while going home, you saw a racoon that needed help, so you helped it, and it cut off your other hand, making you have to go to the doctor again, and go home, this time really careful for raccoons, when at home, an assassin was watching Television in your house, eating your pizza, making you eat me, but you had thrown me away, and now I take revenge! *Dies because of no oxygen*
Luke, I am your Uncle Bob!
*Takes off helmet, revealing a bald guy with a large nose*
Luke: Oh, hey Uncle Bob! I finished painting your garage yesterday!
Vader: Oh yeah, thanks! But, turns out there's several hundred garages on the Death Star.
Luke: Oh..
Vader: Well, you better get working!
Vader hands Luke a can of blue paint and walks out.