Aware that her words would carry great historical significance, Leia pondered over what she should deliver to her adoring public below.
“Perhaps something from Shakespeare,” she thought, arriving at Mark Antony’s famous oratory from Julius Caesar. She would, of course, add her own flair.
“Felines, Meowmans, Countrycats, lend me your ears,” she bellowed from her dais. “I come to bury litter, not to graze it!”
Corny? To be sure, and it didn’t really make any sense. But she was confident it crystallized the moment. However, before she could continue, a loyal subject spoke up from below.
“Leia! Get down from there,” she clapped, shooing as she shouted. “You know better than that!”
The deposed pussycat did as ordered, quickly and without pause. Upon her retreat, she stared daggers at her coup-starting servitor while softly offering her requiem.
“Et tu, human?”
Oh, judgement. Thou art indeed fled to brutish beasts.
Oh, the perils of leadership!
She’s a natural born leader… but it does have it’s pitfalls.
Leia is still Empress of this household!
Ron…you’re still “pursing” your dreams.