Look, Slave Leia Outfit. We need to talk. I know you’re popular, and you’re great, really. I mean, gold bikini. That’s, like, totally classy. And you’re awesome, I’m sure. It’s just that… Well, I’ll be frank with you, because you deserve it. You just don’t do it for me. It’s nothing personal, really. It’s me, not you. I mean, I was a year old when you first showed up. We’re from different eras, you and I. Fate’s plan for my adolescent fantasies just didn’t include you. Your heart belongs to so many others. No, just, please don’t be upset. Do you know how many lightsaber wielders want you? I mean, you’re Slave Leia Outfit! You had Jabba, easily the most badass crime lord in the galaxy, all over you. I bet Boba Fett was eyefucking the hell out of you through that helmet of his. You know, before the whole pansy scream into the sarlaac.
Is there someone else? I, well… Yes. Yes, there is. She’s wonderful, Slave Leia Outfit. She covers up more, you know, to leave some to the imagination. She’s got these a-fucking-mazing striped legs and black boots that could easily stomp some fool’s face in. Blood splatters on her apron, a serious-looking blade. A cute skull pendant just above her ass. It’s just a really good thing we have going and I couldn’t be happier.
So, I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, you easily outnumber her at all the conventions. And you don’t look scary or wield a weapon or anything, so I bet all the boys want a picture with you.