I have half a mind to just let my fingers travel around the keyboard aimlessly and let loose strings and strings of unintelligible words.
Bloody hell. If Chewy can do it and attract such an avalanche of responses, maybe I can, too.
When a wookie has got more things to say than you do…
Gosh, what do you make of that?
Well, actually, that is somewhat… understandable. In a way.
Why – I, too, would ponder how to fix my laser gun (“Ngggakd lajfaklsjdfad…?”) – and failing which, maybe I would just grudgingly accept Han Solo’s advice to get the new Bulging Blaster 3106 (“Rhhhhhhhhhhggaaajaptttttt kdjafkja! Knni! Knni! Knni!”).
And, should the need for it arises: discuss matters of the, uhm, heart, with Leia (“Adjnn lakdf jdnnnngga warrrgghhh. Boooooo.”), out by the freshwater lake, overlooking the Alderaan mountains and spying a wandering nerf or two.
Alternately, I can pen a poem wookie-style, like:
akldsjf kjdkf nnoo nnoo nnoo!
Iuwkr nnfffghhka’s Luke,
kdjksai knni, knni, knni!”
Yeah, Luke is an idiot, but he is fine! Fine! Fine!