I Am Resigning as Senior Safety Coordinator Because, Somehow, the Ewoks Got Torches

To: Thryll Bylor, President, Endor Vendors

Cc: HR2-D2

 

Month 10, Day 26, 4 ABY

Subject: Resignation: Senior Safety Coordinator, Endor Vendors (Effective Immediately)

 

Dear Mr. Bylor,

 

I have long supported Endor Vendors’ mission of “creating morale-boosting events across mixed-species groups at galactic scale.” But after what I witnessed last night at the Battle of Endor Victory Party, I must resign.

I began inspecting the platforms high in the Cambylictus trees. Then came the first fire. I ran toward it with a regulation-grade cryo-extinguisher when I saw a goth-looking farm boy standing entranced by the flames. I assumed he was observing a bonfire. He was, in fact, cremating a man. (Violation 2-C: Improper Disposal of Bio-Organic/Cybernetic Remains) I ran to him and pleaded, “Sir, this is a forest moon covered in flammable timber! We cannot have unsanctioned funeral pyres on these grounds!” He calmly looked at me, waved his hand slightly, and said, “You should go about your business and move along.” I complied and decided to go about my business and move along. (In retrospect, I’m not sure why I did that.)

I returned to the trees to finalize the inspections, ensure the roasted-gurreck ration sticks were within their shelf life, and test the structural integrity of the chocolate fountain. (It was perfectly calibrated, a triumph of confectionery engineering.) That was shortly before the scent of the gurreck hit the Ewoks, who flooded the staging area and began pillaging the rations. The Chief of their Council of Elders, Chirpa, soon followed in his tiny throne carried by four pocket-sized chair-bearers. (Violation 14-J: Improper Personnel Conveyance) Chirpa signaled to blow the horn of celebration, which apparently in Ewokese means, “Commence arson!”

Once that horn was heard, a pack of Ewoks unveiled their torches and set them ablaze! “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where do you think you’re going with these?” I said in my best Ewokese. Paploo tried to convince me that this was for a “controlled burn,” but I wouldn’t have it. “There is nothing but trees around us. We are in a tree right now!” I yelled. “I have some string lights and a low-emission generator back in the transport. We can use those to give you a less-combustible ambiance.” I might as well have been speaking Huttese. Those teddy-bear arsonists were on a mission, their furry faces filled with determination and pyromania. I could wrestle away a few torches, but the others pushed forward and started fires on the party grounds. I ran from tree to tree with my emergency bucket, dousing the open flames, but was overwhelmed by the pint-sized pyros swinging from vines, torches blazing in their tiny paws. (Violation 16-G: Failure to Secure Safety Harnesses)

Then came the Rebels. The X-Wings arrived, conducting unscheduled, low-altitude flyovers, dropping incendiary fireworks across the landscape like proton torpedoes. “Stop it!” Trying to get the pilots’ attention, I yelled into my commlink, “You’re in violation of the Imperial OSH’A code 11-X, which, pending review of the New Republic’s Provisional Government, is still in effect!” The bombardment continued for hours as Rebels arrived on the platforms, hugging and awkwardly dancing, blissfully unaware of the flaming tinderbox surrounding them. I ran screaming, “THERE ARE TREES EVERYWHERE! STOP WITH THE FIRES! OUR INSURANCE DOES NOT COVER THIS!” But to no avail. My pleas were pointless against the incessantly loud “Yub Nub” singing. (Violation 38-B: Excessive Celebratory Noise)

I was done. I needed to get off this moon before the furry little war criminals lit it up like Mustafar. As I headed back to the transport, I saw that same farm boy. Finished with his death ritual that kicked off this evening, he seemed at peace as he stared into the distance. I wondered what the focus of his attention was now. Then I saw it from his vantage point. Three ghosts were standing in the clearing, all of them unbadged! One elderly man in robes, one old green creature with enormous ears, and one younger man who looked alarmingly similar to the body from earlier.  They were standing there, nodding approvingly at the chaos and code violations like an apparitional oversight committee with a vested interest in the party’s casualty projections. (Violation 56-F: Failure to Display Visitor Credentials) “Burn or burn not. There is no try… to extinguish,” said the backward-talking green one.

Given these repeated violations and the fact that no one bothered to try my artisanal Corellian chocolate fountain, I hereby resign from Endor Vendors. May our paths cross again under less fiery circumstances.

 

Farewell,

Stonn Dooth

P.S.: I took with me the only thing they didn’t try to combust: the chocolate fountain. (Violation 8-H: Unauthorized Removal of Company Property)