Owen Skywalker: So, Ben, what brings you into town?
Ben Kenobi: Just mailing a letter.
Owen: Yeah, I'm just here to get a replacement part for a condenser.
Ben: [nods]
Owen: I hope I brought enough money. I forgot about that darn Imperial import tariff.
Ben: Well, if you ever need help solving the Imperial problem, you know where to find me. I'd lov--
Owen: [warily] Now hold on, you know I didn't mean that. Look, I know what you're trying to do. But leave me out of it, ok? And leave little Luke out of it too. He's ten years old now, and I'm trying to give him a solid future.
Ben: Sorry. Of course. I didn't mean to push.
Owen: Oh, it's alright. Look, I'll see you around, ok?
Ben: Yeah, see you around.
[A month passes]
Ben: Good day.
Owen's Father's Cousin's Former Roommate: Hello. Uh... Ben Kenobi, isn't it?
Ben: Right. Ah, here it is. I came into town for a copy of the Mos Eisley Times. Hmm.. J-Lo's marriage is on the rocks? Sheesh, this is what passes for news these days? That settles it. I'm not reading this trash anymore.
OFCFR: Yeah, the paper's really gone downhill.
Ben: [Sighs, nods] I guess there's no longer any reason for me to even come into town.
[awkward pause]
OFCFR: Hey, I was at the general store the other day, and I couldn't help but overhear you talking to Owen. I didn't mean to eavesdrop and I didn't really understand what y'all were talking about, but I gather ...
Ben: Yes?
OFCFR: Well, you're some kind of expert in troubleshooting Imperial problems, aren't you?
Ben: Well, sort of. I mean, not really, but yeah, I've been around. Actually, I've been dying to do something about the Imperial problem.
OFCFR: I gotta do something. I mean, if I keep waiting, it'll just get worse, won't it?
Ben: [aside] That's the spirit! Maybe people are finally
waking up and getting ready to throw off the chains of oppression! [aloud] Yes, it will. Delaying a problem only makes it worse.
OFCFR: Maybe you can help me.
Ben: [getting excited] How can I be of service?
OFCFR: I need help filling out my Imperial tax return. I just don't understand schedule 3524-D and how I'm supposed to report my outworld grain sales on form 6-F and ...
Ben isn't listening to the details. He remains expressionless, but behind those eyes is frustration, rage, and despair.
OFCFR: ... don't even know where to find form 2345-q! And if I don't file by Thursday, the penalties will just keep piling up. You used to have some kind of government job, didn't you? So you know about this stuff. Ben Kenobi, you're my only hope. Can you help me?
Ben: [soliloquy] So it has come to this. Does this fellow have any idea what he is asking of me? Doesn't he understand that it hurts me to even think about this nonsense? If I help him, doesn't he realize that it would be going against my principles and by helping him with his tax forms, I would be legitimizing the Empire?
Good grief, I have never filled out an Imperial tax form in my fucking life. I GOT OUT OF THE SYSTEM, DAMMIT! Why does this idiot think I moved out to the middle of nowhere, into a cave? I have paid a price and had to make some minor personal sacrifices, but the reward is that I got distance from this crap. I became a free man!
I'm not even going to look at this fool's tax forms. I wouldn't dirty my hands with that toilet paper!! I ought to slap his face! How dare he ask for my help with .. this. Of all things, THIS!?!
Please, anything but this. You shouldn't have to pay extra tax on your offworld grain sales. The situation you're in, is not normal! That's not what being a farmer is about; it's not why you became a farmer in the first place. Ask for my help with anything else. I'll stand in the hot Tattoine sun all day helping you pull weeds. Imperial tax forms!
And yet.. how could he know? This is a remote planet, and it's not like this damned Mos Eisley Times keeps people informed. And it's not like I go around telling everyone. If I were to launch into a sermon every time someone mentioned anything Imperial, I'd just get a reputation as a weirdo.
Look at him. He's feeling pain and fear. He really does need help. He's a farmer, not really a fool. I was wrong to think of him like that, and I can't expect everyone to join in my damn fool idealistic crusade.
And if tell him that I actually have less experience with Imperial tax forms than even the most common layman, he won't believe me. He'll think I'm just weaseling out. And the truth is, I did major in accounting back in my academy days, and I helped a lot of friends fill out their old republic tax forms. I have a lot of general experience. I don't know if any of it will apply, but maybe some of it will. And I'm a reasonably intelligent person. Lots of other people are able to make sense of Imperial taxes, so there's no reason I won't be able to.
I just don't want to.
But he needs my help. What kind of complete asshole would I be, if I let my hatred of the Empire, overrule my compassion? I'd be as bad as Palpatine himself.
Ben: [aloud] Of course I'll help you, friend.
You'll never understand why I hesitated. But ok, old Sloppy will come over and look at your spyware/virus problem. I don't know if I can really help, but I'll try.