Growing up ain’t easy, no sirree. Boy, it pains me even now to recall just how hard it was. Memories still tugging away at the heart-strings. All so long ago and far far away.

The Dark Side, Han Solo and Me.

I was just on the cusp of that painfully awkward age
When sweet dreams turn strange and hormones rage,
When I went off to bed my sleep was thin and fleeting,
Boy, those crazy fever dreams would take some beating.

One night I drank down my cup of warm Ovaltine,
Settled into my Star Wars sheets, crisp and clean,
Safe and sound in my bed, tucked up nice and warm
I slept, dreams wandering towards the female form.

I woke with a sudden start, bolt upright I shot,
I was panting, burning hot, and in quite a spot,
My Luke Skywalker PJs now fitted rather snugly,
The reason, once it appeared, was pretty ugly.

I could only conclude that either time is a thief
Or I’d fainted for a moment, sublimely brief,
But once I was roused from my involuntary nap
I spied an issue that embarrasses many a young chap.

Past Mother dear in the kitchen I tried to scamper
With sheets and PJs hid deep in the laundry hamper,
Mama sweetly enquired what I had spilt on the quilt,
Gazing into my eyes, seeing two mute revelations of guilt.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, I swiftly let mine fall,
She picked up the phone, went into the hall, made a call,
Spoke to Papa in the hushed tones reserved for disaster,
Hung up, promptly called on assistance from the Pastor.

He told me of the sin of Onan, of strong willpower,
Of the cool soothing benefits of a long cold shower,
To stay pure of mind, ignore the lure of the Devils daughter;
But my sinful thoughts couldn’t be washed away by Holy Water.

The good Pastor tried, oh by God he tried
To act as my mentor and my spiritual guide,
He strongly advised me to seek comfort in prayer
And to toss out my poster of gold bikini clad Princess Leia.

He pulled out the Good Book, he quoted chapter and verse-
Old Testaments about plucking thine eye out- and worse-
God knows, growing boys are plagued by growing glands
But did the Pastor have to slip in the old tale of hairy hands?

All this noble talk came to naught,
I’d go to bed tense and overwrought,
Even if I fell asleep untouched by shame
In my dreams Leia beckoned, and I came.

My belief in divine retribution faded day by day,
I preferred to live and believe in a galaxy far far away,
As my developing mind and body grew and evolved
I decided if we’re made in His image- problem solved.

Still, as I soaped up behind the streaming shower door
For a hot and steamy best part of an hour- or more-
I wondered if the down sprouting under my arms
Might start to gravitate down to my palms.

With a face overrun with acne and suppurating pimply sores
No pretty girls would face me, so I withdrew into Star Wars,
For three years I held Princess Leia close, to my heart,
Reimagining Star Wars with me playing the Hand Solo part.

One day I passed the Pastor and he stopped and said
‘Have you been good?’ and I felt my face burning red,
All that sage advice He had offered that I’d not taken-
He turned away, leaving the hand I’d proffered unshaken.

I was slipping down the Dark Side of a slippery slope,
I’d long lost the Pastors faith but just when I’d lost hope
Sweet Charity took pity on me, made me, her latest rookie,
Otherwise it was chop off my right hand or become a Wookiee.

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