Aboard the Millennium Falcon

         I came home from the office around nine thirty that night. I opened the door to my apartment and took off my rain soaked overcoat and threw it on the coat rack by the door. The hardwood floor creaked as I walked along the foyer into my kitchen, the heels of my shoes clicking with each step. I hated the getup that I had to wear to work every day, the suit and tie, the uncomfortable shoes, my hair combed into a precise, professional style. I really wish I could just let go once, go into work in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, wearing tennis shoes with my hair in a shambles. That would be the day. But right now I was concerned with getting something to eat.
         I always considered myself to be something like Han Solo, roguish scoundrel that lived alone and depended on nobody except himself and perhaps one or two friends. That's why my dog's name is Lando, you know, after Lando Calrizzean, the guy Han won the Falcon off of. I would have named him Chewie, but I mean come on how many people name their dog Chewie? Too damn many, that's right. And honestly, I always pictured Lando to be the kind of dog that was there to do more than just fix the hyper drive when I needed him to, someone I could really count on in a pinch. That was my dog, a big old scoundrel of a bull mastiff.
         He greeted me as I walked in the door of my apartment, wagging his tail a bit. I patted him on the head, and he immediately turned and walked into the kitchen.
         "Work was a bitch today," I said. "Honestly Lando, I don't know how much longer I can put up with this crap, people constantly screwing me over, dumping their shit work on me. I'm really not sure how much more I can take of it."
         Lando turned and looked up at me with his big brown eyes as if he understood exactly what I was talking about. He walked over to his food bowl and nudged it towards me with his nose, telling me exactly what he wanted from me.
         "Alright you big lug, here you go," I said as I opened up the pantry and filled his bowl full of food. "Not like you need it though, fatass."
         Lando cocked to the side and looked at me, then stuck his nose in the bowl and proceeded to scarf down his food. I walked back across the kitchen towards the fridge, grabbed some ham and salami out and made myself a sandwich. I grabbed a beer out as well and walked over to my living room to unwind.
         I turned on the TV and walked over to my rack of DVD's-my best friends, and grabbed the one that knew me best, the one with whom I was closest, the one that made me most whole. The Empire Strikes Back.
A warm glow began to go through my body, flowing with pleasant warmth. It grew in intensity until it was a fire, consuming my entire being. My arms began to bulge with an increase in muscle mass and my jaw became squarer. I looked down to find my suit was now a brown vest and white shirt covered by winter gear.  I was no longer sitting in my crummy apartment in the middle of the city. I was Han Solo, my couch, a Ton-Ton, and my apartment, the planet Hoth.
         I couldn't find Luke, and that was a problem. I had been looking for that kid for hours, and he just wasn't there. So I turned around, and went back to the Rebel Base. Two hours later, I had been betrayed by my best friend, and was standing on a platform, about to be frozen in carbonite to be sent to Jabba the Hut, staring down at the most beautiful woman I have ever known.
         "I love you," she says.
         "I know."