I had a dream about you. You were the general of a vast army, and you bragged that you had the loyalty of your men. And I was the proud owner of a million clones, and I thought you were silly, because there is no loyalty greater than to oneself. Still, you decided to give the command to fire upon my men, and as you can understand, I took it quite personally. So I swarmed you and stung you like a million men dressed in bee costumes, which I’ll have you know was very expensive to rent.