▸ Column · Tatooine underworld, Mos Espa, post-Imperial era — Boba Fett as Daimyo answering correspondence between contracts
BOBA FETT replies.
Replied to by Boba Fett, with a rebuttal from Jabba the Hutt.
The letter
Three cycles back, my partner Roger watched one holodoc about the beasts of Dagobah and came away with a breathy, overdramatic impression of the narrator — a character he swears is his own invention, "Sir Nigel." Funny for a week. Now Sir Nigel narrates everything. Me racking the ration crates ("here, the female of the species stows her stores with quiet desperation"). My mother's life-day meal. Once, regrettably, a screaming match about money. Last rotation I sneezed and he murmured, "a rare and beautiful event," and I genuinely weighed packing a bag over a sneeze. I love the man. But if Sir Nigel narrates one more walk to the refresher, I will personally end his nature preserve. How do I retire a character he refuses to let die?
Boba Fett replies
Reduce it to terms. The bit isn't the problem. The bit is a tell. He performs because you react — every flinch, every laugh, every threat to pack a bag is payment. He's been collecting it free for three years. Stop paying and the narrator starves on his own.
Don't do it hot. A man who'd leave over a sneeze is reacting, and reaction is noise — noise warns the mark before you've moved. Wait for a flat hour. Then name one term, once, plainly: certain rooms, certain arguments, the door is closed to Sir Nigel. Put it in writing if you have to. Then hold the line without theatrics. The threat about his "preserve" — drop it. I don't make threats I won't carry out, and you won't carry that one. An empty threat is a discount on you.
I spent a long time in the dark belly of a beast because a man enjoyed his own performance and didn't confirm his work. Indulgence is how the undisciplined lose. He's not cruel. He's just never been told the bit has a price. Set it. He's no good to you as a narrator.
— Boba Fett
Jabba the Hutt weighs in
Hoo hoo hoo. Fett tells you to set a term. Of course he does — he was always happiest reading the contract right up until I read him to the Sarlacc.
Listen to a patient collector instead. The narration is not noise, my friend. It is debt. Every time the fool performs and you smile, he owes you — and a wise partner keeps the ledger. Do not forbid Sir Nigel. Indulge him. Let him narrate, and let each performance be a favor he'll one day repay: the dishes, the silence, the thing you'll want next cycle. The one who is owed never has to threaten a preserve. She simply waits, comfortable, until he comes to settle.
— Jabba the Hutt
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