Psychlotron XII was well-known as the premier negolath-mining planet in the entire galaxy. (Negolath, as you know, is a vital element in the powdered wig industry, which has gripped galactic fashion since the disembodied head of Joan Rivers wore one to the 1206th Oscars.)
The problem with negolath is that it is easily transmuted into an aerosol, is highly reactive and can cause a range of maladies such as having your face to slough off. In short, if not properly handled, negolath killed people, turned them into hideous skin-deprived ghouls, or even worse.
The Massively Helpful Insurance Company provided the health coverage for the miners who quarried the all-important negolath.
And there had been a massive aerosol event; thousands of miners and their families were dead, losing their facial features, or getting sick. The Massively Helpful Insurance Company was on the hook for billions of credits in health care, that is, until they called in Darth Jeremy, Dark Lord of Insurance Agents. It would take him weeks, but the powerful villain visited each policy holder in turn.
“So, how are you doing?” Darth Jeremy would ask.
“Well, Mr. Darth,” the miner would say, between hacking coughs, “the doctor says I’ve got the wig-lung.”
“No, you don’t have the wig-lung,” Darth Jeremy would say, waving his hand in front of the miner. “You are perfectly well.”
“I don’t have the wig-lung,” the miner would say, cough a bit, and then add, “I’m –” hack, hack,” –perfectly well.”
This worked on roughly half of the policy holders.
Instead of paying the other half, the Massively Helpful Insurance Company hired Darth Jeremy’s colleague, Darth Vitto, to deal with the rest of the claims.