Evil Is Never Orthodox: Chronicles of the Unusual Sith

Evil Is Never Orthodox: Chronicles of the Unusual Sith

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Evil is Never Orthodox: Chronicles of the Unusual Sith is a book of short stories, written by Enoch Wheredad, documenting several of the more unorthodox and less well-known Sith that have existed.

Contents

Chapter One: Of mountains and molehills: Darth Sorrow's tale

Chapter Two: Of psychosis and psychics: Darth Psycho's tale

Chapter Three: Of leather and brims: Darth Hat's tale

Chapter Four: Of pursuits and investigations: Darth Detective's tale

Chapter Five: Of emos and Elma: Darth Elmo's tale

Chapter Six: Of Sith Lords and fools: Darth Darth Binks's tale

Chapter Seven: Of poetry and hidden codes: Darth Onomatopoeia's tale

Chapter Eight: Of barking and tales: Darth Dog's tail

Chapter Nine: Of fanfics and fans: Darth Fanon's tale

Chapter Ten: Of third mortages and executive managers: Darth Accountant's tale

Excerpts

Chapter One: Of mountains and molehills: Darth Sorrow's tale

"Yo mama!" the little ape shouted from below, "Your ass is fat and lumpy, you must be a rock!" Darth Sorrow looked down from his great height at the wimp beneath him. No matter what he shouted up at him, he tried to stomp his enemy but he couldn't, being a mountain. And therefore Darth Sorrow was too overcome by this revelation. Then he realized there was a very hot, super-sexy Ewok beneath him, and he tried to lift his penis in an unfathomable erection, namely to impress her and win her pride. But then, to his dismay, he discovered that there was not only no penis to erect, he didn't even have one, due to it being made of stone. Therefore the tears splashed down and soaked up Psycho, who hollered obscene words as his fur got all wet and sticky. Heh heh heh, bet even Darth Ruptus is laughing now.

Chapter Four

Darth Detective awoke in a pool of his own blood, which was never a good sign. To his right, a shiny filing lay upturned, while to his left a small pigeon banged its tiny head repeatedly against the office window. The constant tipping of the bird's beak of the glass was slowly driving Detective mad. He decided to try and stand up, where he could properly assess the damage. As well as the damaged filing cabinet, several desks were not in their usual position, and scraps of paper lay scattered all over the small room. A giant blood stain (which Detective dearly hoped was not his own), covered the wall to the Sith Private Detective's left, while a picture on said wall was oddly lopsided. Detective spent several minutes more examining his shabby office, before collapsing into his trusty armchair, which collapsed itself the minute he made contact with it. He remained sitting on the pile of leather and wood, with the pigeon staring at him strangely, as if a man sitting on a broken armchair was in any way unusual.

Suddenly, Detective remembered the events of the previous night. Although they were vague and blurry, he had a good shot at piecing them all together. He remembered dueling a masked man, jumping out a third story window and then seeing a masked man enter his office. No, the man entered before they dueled, then Detective jumped out the window. Why he did such an act still eluded him. There was something else...something about a cat. Oh shit, the cat! The masked man had taken the cat. Detective could not lose the cat, not now, not after all he had invested in getting the little furball.