Luke, C-3PO and R2-D2 walk into the Mos Eisley Cantina. The Bartender stops them.

Bartender: Hey! We don't serve their kind here!

Luke: What?

Bartender: Your droids. They'll have to wait outside.

C-3PO and RD-D2 turn to leave.

Bartender: Oh, sorry, the short one can stay. Just not the shiny, prissy one.

Luke: I'm sorry?

Bartender: The effeminate one with the lisp. We don't serve his kind here.

C-3PO: Apologies, sir, it's a British accent. If it offends you, I can certainly…

Luke cuts him off.

Luke: What are you trying to say, buddy?


Luke: Oh, this is so Mos Eisley. You'll tolerate a guy with a thousand eyes or a bulging phlegm sack, but the moment a robot wants to express his love with a robot of the same sex you freak out.

C-3PO: Excuse me, but I'm not gay.

Bartender: The droid chose an alternative lifestyle, he can choose an alternative establishment.

Luke: Wow, it is so not a choice. He didn't ask to be programmed this way.

C-3PO: I'm not gay!

R2-D2 whistles and beeps.

Luke: What did he say?

C-3PO: Nothing!

R2-D2 projects a very explicit hologram of C-3PO and another robot. Everyone, Luke included, recoils in disgust.

C-3PO: I was in robot college. It was one time!

Bartender: I can't believe you're defending that.

Luke: That is a… perfectly natural… act of engineering between two consenting… You know what? We're just going to find another cantina. Happy now?

C-3PO: You try telling the difference between a male and female moisture vaporator!

Luke leads the two droids out. The bar watches them go.

Han: Who the fuck were those guys?

Chewie shrugs.