Guardian of the Fetts
by Chris Azure

I am your guardian angel. I have been in your family for generations, protecting your ancestors and helping them find their way to glory. Well, I’ve had enough. You people are nothing but trouble. Don’t come calling. I’ll be on holiday indefinitely.

Dear Jango,

I don’t know how you found my new address, and I don’t know how you knew about the ever-binding promise. That was supposed to be a secret. Anyway, here’s a suit of armour for you. That ought to keep you out of harm’s way. It even has one of those jetpacks I know you’ve always wanted. Enjoy.

Dear Jango,

Stop pestering me. I realise I granted your great-grandfather dominion over an entire star system, but those were simpler times. I know you keep saying you’re just a simple man trying to make your way in the world, but I simply don’t believe it, and I can’t just go conjuring up entire armies of you on a whim. Why would you want such a thing anyway? Honestly, this Army of One nonsense simply must be put to an end. Go to Coruscant, there are plenty of nice girls living there. Start a family. Be happy. Let’s put an end to this clone obsession once and for all.

Dear Jango,

I gave you your army. If you’re not in control of them, that’s your problem, not mine. I think you’re probably being manipulated by someone. Go fight some Jedi or something.

Dear Boba,

I really wish your dad hadn’t told you about me. I thought it was finally at an end. Well, don’t you be getting any ideas. I’ve granted you a suit of armour just like your dad’s. It has brighter colours. I hope that’s enough for you.

Dear Boba,

Okay, now you’re the most renowned Bounty Hunter in the galaxy. Great. I hope you like the gift. Now stop complaining. I mean come on, you didn’t even have to put any effort into it! And stop asking me to make you more powerful than Darth Vader.

Dear Boba,

If you feel like everyone’s out to get you, you have only yourself to blame. Yes, you are in danger. But I see a way out. When the battle aboard Jabba’s sail barge begins, fly over to the skiff. That sail barge is gonna blow. Oh, and stand near Han Solo. He’ll deflect most of the blast for you and you’ll be safe.

Dear Boba,

Haven’t you been digested yet? Stop sending me letters. I can’t zap you out of the Sarlaac’s belly. That was never one of my powers.

Dear Sarlaac,

Thanks for speeding up the digestion process. Here’s that sun shade I promised you.

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