The chaotic cacophony was getting louder and louder. “Leia hates your guts! Leia hates your guts!”

“Just ignore them, honey,” Buffy advised.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones,” Darth Supremis said, “BUT I’LL BE DAMNED IF WORDS WILL EVER HURT ME ! Ensign Borat!”

“Yes sirs!”

“Get the Brotherhood of Mutants, NOW !”

“Sirs yes sirs!” Borat said, scrambling to locate the dangerous and, in his opinion, unsavory band of mutants.

“Honey, you really ought to look into some therapy. I know a great therapist. She works with Tony Soprano.”

The rush of anger subsided. “You think I need therapy? I mean, you just met me.”

“Oh, come on now Luke. It’s obvious we’re soulmates. One: Leia is your sister, you perv. Two: you clearly have daddy issues. Three: the workers have a point. You rule with an iron fist. Most employers fire the incompetent workers; you kill them. They wouldn’t make nearly as many mistakes if you’d stop micromanaging their lives.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” he said, miserably.