Originals

Jabba the Husband

 

“What a day I had.”

 

“You know that servant girl in the gold bikini?  She tried to strangle me!”

 

“Then three guys and this big dog blew up my floating palace.”

 

“After that, my only way home was by Uber.  And the driver was playing pro-rebel talk radio, which was the last thing I wanted to hear.  Plus, he smoked.”



 

“I was so mad, I gave the driver one star.  And froze him in carbonite,” said Jabba the Hutt.  “Anyway, that’s why I’m late for dinner.”

“Poor baby,” said his wife, Jenna the Hutt.  She gave him a big wet sloppy goopy stringy kiss on the forehead.

 

“I made your favorite dinner,” said Jenna.  “Roast suckling Ewok.”

“My mouth is watering,” said Jabba the Hutt.  Of course, his mouth was always watering.

Jabba smiled when he saw his beautiful family gathered around the dinner table.  There were his twin daughters Debbi and Bobbi the Hutt.  These girls were inseparable.  At least that’s what the doctors said.

 

And his mother, Nana the Hutt.  She was nine thousand years old and looked twice that.   She was so wrinkled no one knew quite where her face was.

 

Finally there was Jabba’s son, Jabba Junior, a chip off the old blob.  He had his head down and hadn’t said a word.  “JJ, what’s wrong?” asked Jabba.

“Nothin’,” grunted Jabba Junior.

“Nothing’s wrong?  That’s great!” said Jabba the Hutt.  “Let’s eat!”

 

Jabba’s wife cleared her throat meaningfully.

“I mean, let’s do parenting,” said Jabba.  “What’s the matter, son?”

“The kids at school called me a name,” said Jabba Junior.

Jenna the Hutt said, “Well, you tell those boys ‘Laser guns can melt my buns, but names will never hurt me.’”

“True! I’ve melted many buns with laser guns!  Let’s eat!” said Jabba.  He was starving.

Debbi and Bobbi asked in unison, “What name did they call you?”

Jabba Junior was quiet for a moment, then muttered, “Slobbo the Hutt.”

“Slobbo the Hutt?” cried his father.  He let out a hearty laugh.  “Glop glopglopglopglop!”

 

 

Jenna gave Jabba a look that froze him like carbonite.

Jabba the Hutt feared nothing in this universe except his wife.  He knew he had to say something fatherly, and fast!

“Son, tomorrow I’m going to visit that boy’s home and sell his parents into bondage.”

“No, Jabba,” said his wife.

“I mean, I’m going to talk to his parents and then blow up their whole planet.”

“No, Jabba.”

 

Jabba the Hutt was all out of good ideas.  So he decided to try being honest.  “Son, you won’t believe this, but when I was your age… I used to be fat.”

“No!” gasped Debbi and Bobbi in unison.

“It’s true,” said Nana the Hutt.  “He looked like SySnootles swallowed the Death Star.”

“Thank you, Mother,” said Jabba tightly.

 

“The kids at school called me names too,” Jabba the Hutt went on.

“What kind of names?” asked Jabba Junior.

Jabba the Hutt’s lip quivered.  “They called me… Blubber the Butt.”

The whole family burst into laughter.

“Silence!” roared Jabba.  He slammed the table so hard the wood splintered and everybody’s milk spilled.

 

“Anyhoo…” Jabba continued, “To prove I wasn’t a loser, the next day I summoned up all my courage and asked the prettiest girl in school to the dance.”

“What happened?” asked the son.

“She said yes,” smiled Jabba. “And then I married her.  We had two beautiful girls and the best-looking boy in the star system.”

Jabba Junior smiled. Jabba the Hutt tousled his son’s hair, or would have if he had any hair.

 

 

 

Mrs. The Hutt brought out a steaming platter of roast Ewok.

“Parenting complete!” said Jabba.  “Now food!”

“Uh uhuh,” said his wife.  “You know what comes first.”

Jabba the Hutt sighed.  The family joined hands, or flippers, or whatever they were, as Jabba said:

“Thank you Dark Side, thank you Sith

For the people we are with.

Thank you for this lovely meal

Crush the rebels, make them squeal.”

“Amen,” said the family.

 

 

Everyone dug in–arms and teeth and bones flew everywhere.  The room echoed with chomping and burps and much worse noises.  And when they finished eating, eight seconds later, Nana the Hutt was gone.

“Oh no.  We ate Grandma, “ said Jabba Junior.

“It’s Uncle Frank all over again,” moaned Jabba Senior.

Just then his Nana the Hutt shuffled into the room.

“Had to take a pill,” she said.

 

Mr. and Mrs. Jabba the Hutt settled into bed.  Jabba said, “I better get some sleep.  Big day tomorrow. Gotta buy a whole new floating palace.”

“Floating palace salesmen,” spat Jenna the Hutt.  “Worst scum in the universe.”

“And after that, I have to pick up a new servant girl.  And buy about thirty feet of servant girl chain.”

“Jab, honey,” said his wife, “Maybe if you paid those girls a decent wage, they wouldn’t try to strangle you all the time.”

Jabba kissed her cheek.  “You must be the smartest woman in the galaxy.”

“I’m not that smart.  I married you.”

“WHAT?” roared Jabba the Hutt angrily.  He thought about freezing his wife in carbonite.  But then he realized it was just a joke.

“Glop glopglopglop!” he laughed.  “Glop glopglopglop!”

 

by Mike Reiss

Mike Reiss

Mike Reiss has been writing/producing for ‘The Simpsons’ for three decades and is a 4X Emmy winner. In his spare time, he’s visited 134 countries, including Iran, Iraq, North Korea, and the North Pole. Hear all about it on his very funny and reasonably true travel comedy podcast ‘What Am I Doing Here? with Mike Reiss’.