Joe knew the time would come. He saved and

Joe knew the time would come. He saved and invested so that he could generate a variety of more beautiful clones. They shared his mind, but despite their beauty and appreciation,

each one had an uncontrolled hunger for world domination. To make it possible, Joes clones eventually started getting their own clones, and those clones their own clones, etc.

& so on ad finitum.Joes clones each harbored the same wish for world domination as the original Joe & hindered one another in their goal. Joe watched the clones futile fighting

and finally turned to Lucas and said, "This sucks man." Joe was only the janitor at Sky Walker ranch, but he'd had it. These lame, bloodless clone battles sucked, like work sucks.

The janitor demanded a starring role in Lucas's next movie. He even auditioned on the spot, wielding his mop like a light saber. George granted his wish, making him the star of

"Don't worry pal" his agent drawled, throwing an arm comfortably over his broad shoulders, bringing his slicked head of hair unnervingly close. "You were born to play a mailman, it

seems." He chuckled as he flicked a gob of Brill Creme off of his shoulder. Antoine's spirit sagged lower than his eighty-year-old father's jowls. "What now," he wondered, as he

gave his dad the latest issue of "Popular Mechanics." His octogenarian dad was up to something in the garage because he could see a strange light emitting from the window at night.

Conflicted, he turned away. If only he would have lingered just a few moments more he might have noticed the fresh blood stain peeking out from under his dad's rug.