Dear George Lucas,
Hi. How are you? We are fine. More or less. How would you like to come to our house for dinner? What’s your favorite regular non-famous person kind of food? I bet I could make it. Really, come for dinner. I have someone that I want you to meet.
My six year old son, Snags, loves your Star Wars movies. Loves, LOVES, LOVES, LURVES them. No, it’s true! I swear! I would NOT kid you about something like that. This love, it’s SERIOUS. So serious he has taken your movies, all 40 bajillion of them, and expanded them in his mind to include the SCENES YOU NEVER FILMED. He describes them to me in great never ending detail day after day after day after day. “Mom,” he says, “let me tell you something…”
Every sentence starts with, “And then Luke…” or “So then the Emperor…” or “But Darth Vader, he…” and I am sorry but I. CAN’T. TAKE. IT. ANYMORE!
“No!” I tell Snags, “That’s enough. No more talk about Star Wars tonight. Talk about something else. Anything else.”
And my son, he’s six, right? So he’s testing out his smart-mouthedness and he responds with “Well, I like dogs. I could talk about dogs but then I would talk about dogs so much that you would get tired of hearing about dogs and so then I’d I just have to talk about Star Wars so I’ll just go ahead and talk about Star Wars now. So then the Emperor…”
And so, I’d like to invite you to our house for dinner. Nothing fancy. Just bring yourself. And oh, I don’t know, a tape recorder. Snags has HOURS, DAYS, MONTHS, YEARS worth of new Star Wars ideas for you. And I notice you haven’t made a new Star Wars movie in like, a few years at least. So you must be looking for SOMETHING to do.
So come to my house, have dinner, listen to my son go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on… You’ll get a good meal and fodder for your next movie out of the deal.
So call me. Tell me what day would be good for you and I’ll get cooking.