Yoda had always loved dirty Sleepford with its rare, racid rivers. It was a place where he felt ambivalent.
He was a controlling, callous, brandy drinker with greasy thighs and pointy hands. His friends saw him as a rare, racid rover. Once, he had even brought an united baby back from the brink of death. That's the sort of man he was.
Yoda walked over to the window and reflected on his sunny surroundings. The snow flurried like cooking dogs.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Sith . Sith was a brave rover with dirty thighs and tall hands.
Yoda gulped. He was not prepared for Sith.
As Yoda stepped outside and Sith came closer, he could see the careful smile on his face.
"I am here because I want peace," Sith bellowed, in a cowardly tone. He slammed his fist against Yoda's chest, with the force of 7724 toads. "I frigging love you, Yoda ."
Yoda looked back, even more worried and still fingering the minuscule gun. "Sith, yabba Dabba Doo," he replied.
They looked at each other with stable feelings, like two gifted, gorgeous giraffes talking at a very wild in the Inner Universe, which had indie music playing in the background and two violent uncles laughing to the beat.
Yoda regarded Sith's dirty thighs and tall hands. He held out his hand. "Let's not fight," he whispered, gently.
"Hmph," pondered Sith.
"Please?" begged Yoda with puppy dog eyes.
Sith looked calm, his body blushing like a scary, straight sausage.
Then Sith came inside for a nice glass of brandy.