Settle for a mediocre life on this dirt ball, and go jerk it to Academy Propoganda.

You sigh deeply and turn away from the twin orbs tessellating across the sky. "Tatooine is a shithole, but at least I’ve got three square meals and all the Academy Holos I could want” you think. “And at least I’m not strapped to a bantha, soon to be a **** bride to Tusken Raiders”.

You imagine your legs stretched tight across the side of the animal and the first Tusken gingerly tickling your pink anus with his gaffi stick. Your loins stir again, but you shake your head. "What’s wrong with me?” You think. And head back into the garage to clean up those droids.