If you want to stand any chance of getting a seat, you'd better get down to the cinema immediately - the idiots are already lining up outside!
Hurry! Hurry! Star Wars time! Hurry!
You reflect upon what a cool song it is.
People are assaulting one another with plastic light sabres, and chewing up Star Wars trading cards and spitting them out onto their clenched fists. Amid the crowd, you think you see Carrie Fisher biting a man's neck open, and shouting something about sex and drugs that sounds upon first hearing as if it might be a wittily outrageous comment, but upon reflection just seem to be the hollow ravings of a demented attention-seeker.
It's chaos, and contrary to almost everything you believed Star Wars stood for.
"Hunh?" you say, powerfully. "Who are you?"
"Who I am don't matter," barks the man in the bush. "What's important is that I want to help you."
"Then why did you tell me your name?" you ask.
"FML," he replies.
"Hello?" you shout, your voice echoing into the gloom.
"Hello-hello-hello!" replies the echo.
"Piss!" you shout.
"Piss-piss-piss!" replies the echo, hilariously. You laugh solidly for eighteen minutes.
"What the...?!?" you stammer. "George Lucas?!"
"Yes, I am George Lucas, the creator of Star Wars - and you, sir or madam, are in my home!"
"But... this isn't Skywalker Ranch."
"It is these days. Ever since I sold everything I owned to Disney. I even sold them an old pair of espadrilles I had. Nowadays, I drink water out of a puddle, and have to go poo-poo in a corner. I actually love it."
"Wait!" cries Lucas. "What are you even doing here?"
"Well, I was trying to get in line for The Force Awakens..."
Lucas suddenly clears his throat, and twitches, at the mention of the new Star Wars movie.
"Then this guy in a bush - "
"Ah, him," says Lucas to himself, knowingly.
"Well, he said he knew where I could see The Force Awakens before anyone else."
"No!" bellows Lucas. "Not The Force Awakens. The new Star Wars movie. The REAL new Star Wars movie."
"But I thought - "
"Lemme ask you something," says Lucas. "How would you feel if someone drew a picture of a lewd thing with a cartoon face, and signed it with your name?"
"But you sold your rights to Star Wars for a lot of - "
"Like you've never done anything rash when you've been on the vodka Red Bulls!" snaps Lucas. "You want the new Star Wars movie? The real new Star Wars movie? I'll give it to you."
"Green?" you ask. "Wasn't the Star Wars logo always yellow?"
"Stop interrupting me! So we get the green logo - it has always been green - then the words come up: Episode VII - uh - subtitle: Episode VIII..."
"What? Your version of Star Wars Episode VII is called Episode VIII?"
"Yes," replies Lucas, swallowing his words a little. "It makes perfect sense in the context of the movie."
"But what happens when the actual Episode VIII comes out?" you ask. "Won't it get confusing?"
"No," mumbles Lucas. "I don't know! Who cares?"
"I care - "
"Just shut up!" instructs Lucas, fixing you with a terrifying stare. "Then we get the opening crawl. That's the bit where all the green words fly into the distance..."
You bite your tongue so hard it almost bleeds.
"I haven't written all of it yet, but it goes something like - uh - 'Once upon a time, Luke Skywalker and Hand Solo were, uh, they were in a big space fight. Like, lots of spaceships everywhere. And Princess Leia gets captured - they're all, you know, 30 years older now by the way - and so Hand and Lucas - I mean, Luke - they, uh, they go rescue her in the Millennium Falcon, and - oh yeah, Hand's best friend Chewbacca the Wookiee is there, and the two robots, and ..' Hold on. I need to do a poo poo."
Lucas shuffles off into a corner, removes his trousers and underwear, tossing them across the warehouse. He squats down behind a low wall, and begins to defecate, watching you the entire time, as he grunts, and strains, and goes red in the face - like when a baby does it.
Tentatively, you head over to retrieve the trousers. As you turn to give them to Lucas, he's standing right behind you.
"Boo!" he says, a moment or two too late to startle you. He begins dancing around, naked from the waist down, chanting: "I really scared you! I really scared you!"
"You didn't scare me," you insist.
"I did, and you just don't want to admit it," huffs Lucas. "Now do you want to hear about this movie or not?"
"Depends," you reply. "Are you going to get dressed again?"
"No," he says, convincingly. "Never again."
"Didn't the movies traditionally begin in space, with a spaceship?"
"I said spaceship," he snaps.
"No you - "
"I did," he insists. "And this big spaceship is on fire! It's burning out of control!"
"There's no oxygen in space," you say.
"Your point being what?" Lucas asks.
"Fire can't burn without oxygen."
"You know what else can't burn without oxygen?" Lucas asks. "You! Interrupt me one more time and I'll burn your arms clean off your torso and make you eat the ash."
"S-sorry," you stammer, in response to his weird threat.
"Actually, no - wait - what he says is 'Shouldn't we put out the fire, because somebody might see it, like Darth Vader or somebody?'. Yeah. Yeah! That's good. I'm not explaining it very well.
"But anyway, they decide to try and put out the fire, in case it attracts Darth Vader, but they're not quick enough. There's a big whooshing noise, and Darth Vader appears!"
"And he's laughing so hard that his helmet keeps opening and closing, like the top of a bin lid. Like, 'snap-snap-snap', open and close, open and close, in time with his laugh. It probably sounds a bit weird, but how I see it in my head, with CGI, it's gonna be a really eerie moment."
"Plus, Hand always shoots first in this movie. He just goes around shooting people. Blam! Blam! Just randomly shooting anyone and everyone. Walks into a shop: 'How can I help you, sir?'. BLAM! Goes to buy a new space car: 'What sort of car are you looking for, sir?'. BLAM! Sits down in a restaurant: 'Can I get you a drink, monsieur?'. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
"This new Star Wars will be right back to basics you see, except with Darth Vader's helmet opening and closing every time he laughs, now that the technology allows me to do that. That's why he never laughed in the original movies, because we could never work out a way to make his helmet snap open and closed in time with it.
"And yeah, well, I guess that's about it. The end. So what do you think of the new Star Wars movie?"
You fumble for something to say, lost for words, as Lucas looks at you desperately, hopefully. Out of sheer compassion, you tell him: "It was good."
"Yes!" cries Lucas, punching the air, and giving repeated victory salutes, just inches from your face. "I knew I've still got it!
"Yep," you squeak, trying not to give away that it was one of the most awful experiences of your life.
"I guess you'd like a goodie bag," Lucas says.
"It's fine," you reply, backing towards the door. "I've got a doctor's appointment and really should be going."
But Lucas follows you.
"Here you go," says Lucas as he hands you a filthy holdall, which he quickly stuffs his trousers and underwear into. "Remember not to tell anyone where you got this."
You nod him a farewell, and he nods in return, but as you start heading off, Lucas follows. You pick up your pace, and Lucas speeds up. You break into a run, and Lucas runs after you, albeit with his arms at his side, and his chin against his chest, the exertion causing him to grunt and snuffle like a pig.
Eventually, you get some distance between you both - evidently, Lucas is not as young and spry as he used to be.
You look back over your shoulder, and the last you ever see of the Star Wars creator is him sat, spread-eagled on the sidewalk, shouting through his heavy, staccato breaths: "May the Force be with you...!"