About a week ago, our friends asked Greg whether he would dress as a Star Wars character for their son’s birthday party. Greg thought that some of the other dads would also be in costume, so he quickly agreed to this arrangement. Plans morphed, and a few days ago, Greg learned that he would be the only one in costume. As Darth Vader. Did our friends choose him for his dark, mysterious air? Or because as a non-guild actor he would work for cheap? Perhaps both.
They dropped off the costume late Thursday night. I’m not sure about the anatomical status of the real Darth Vader, but this costume had been designed for a Ken doll. It was borderline obscene, particularly for the birthday party of a 5-year-old. Greg wriggled and tugged at the costume while my laughter turned into delirious sobbing.
Ever the good sport, Greg put on the costume for the party last night and then allowed a gang of preschoolers to lash and poke at him with inflatable light sabers.
The Jedi could not fell him.
Silly string brought his end.