Long ago, in a city far, far away on the west coast, George grumpily rolled out of bed, nearly tripping over his dog Woofie, who was busy chewing on a slipper. Woofie was always chewing something.
Stumbling downstairs, George started breakfast. The stout tea kettle whistled a warning as he struggled to cut through a big block of cheese. “I’ll bet a laser could cut through this in a second,” he thought.
He dressed in his usual black shirt, pants and boots, along with his helmet, before riding his scooter to work. His heavy breathing fogged his visor, and the sun reflecting off the foggy visor made it look like there were two suns in the sky. Riding to work on a road that had recently been re-paved, he thought to himself that the ride was so smooth it was almost like his scooter was riding on air, without touching the pavement.
Looking to his left, he saw workers were almost finished with the new theatre-in-the-round on Alderon Way. Two workers with welding torches were fooling around, waving the torches, pretending to swordfight.
As he turned onto Alliance Avenue, he was forced off the road by a guy driving a Ford Falcon.
He finally arrived at the office of his agent, Luke Han.
“Any ideas for a movie?” Luke asked.
“Nah,” George replied.
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Six years later, he came up with Star Wars. The rest is history.
