Darth Supremis stood in the hanger, a twisted smile on his face. As the Millennium Falcon landed, he remembered the friends he betrayed, the power of the dark side surging through his veins. The door opened and Buffy hopped out.

“I’ve been expecting you,” he said.

“Really?” Buffy played dumb. “Can you tell me how to get to the Death Star? I’ve got dinner reservations, a blind date with some guy named Luke.”

She batted her eyes. He noticed her lack of bra (Roland’s plan hinged on her playing it loose).

“Ensign Borat, search the ship. Give them no quarter. Right this way, darling. I know a place with the best tauntaun steak this side of Endor.”

“Very nice!” Ensign Borat advised his boss, “Ask how much? You heard him, gypsies, search the sheep.”

“It’s empty.”

Ensign Borat had about seven seconds to be confused.

The Millenium Falcon exploded, the explosion causing a domino effect of intensifying explosions. Borat was the only survivor.

The initial phase of the plan had gone off without a hitch.