CHOOSE THE FORCE. CHOOSE A JOB. CHOOSE THE DARK SIDE. CHOOSE THE COUNCIL. CHOOSE A FLUBBING BIG LIGHTSABER. CHOOSE PROTOCOL DROIDS, HOLOPROJECTORS, AND R2 UNITS. CHOOSE WATTO, TATOOINE, AND ALDERAAN. CHOOSE FIXED-INTEREST CREDIT PAYMENTS TO SEBULBA. CHOOSE A CORELLIAN FREIGHTER THAT DID THE KESSEL RUN IN LESS THAN 12 PARSECS. CHOOSE A WOOKIEE. CHOOSE SITTING IN JABBA'S THRONE ROOM, WATCHING MIND-NUMBING DANCERS, STUFFING GREEN CHUBAS INTO YOUR MOUTH. CHOOSE ROTTING AWAY AT THE END OF IT ALL, DISAPPEARING INTO THIN AIR, NOTHING MORE THAN AN EMBARRASSMENT TO THE WHINY KID YOU TRAINED ON THE WAY TO ALDERAAN. CHOOSE YOUR DESTINY. CHOOSE THE FORCE. BUT WHY WOULD I WANT TO DO A THING LIKE THAT? I CHOSE NOT TO CHOOSE THE DARK SIDE. I CHOSE SOMETHING ELSE. AND THE REASONS? THERE ARE NO REASONS. WHO NEEDS REASONS WHEN YOU'VE GOT A LIGHTSABER?
