put captain solo in the cargo hold

Yesterday morning, as I was outside trimming the basil plant and furthering my tendency toward total domesticity, my neighbor, Tim, walked out his front door. Now, for the record, I have seen Tim walk out his front door on a number of occasions, and have never felt the need to document his departure. However, on this day, when Tim locked his front door and plodded down the stairs, he did so with purpose. Because when Timmy left for work (or whatever people like Tim do) that day, he was not one of us...the ever-yawnable by-products of humanity, travelling en masse to work, to school, to death, to blahblahblah...

No. Tim lives.

...as a man who dresses up as a Star Wars character. You see, on that fateful day, upon hearing Tim's door close, I glanced up just in time to see a God-given miracle...a man carrying a Boba Fett helmet and a duffel bag full of bounty-hunting, Han Solo chasing awesomeness.

Tim rules.

ps...upon further review, I have decided that the helmet and accompanying outfit belong to Jango Fett, Boba's pathetic, headless father/clonethingy. All cred is gone. Tim sucks.