Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi walks the thin line between good and
evil as he faces off against those most heinous of darkside
adversaries; the Bureaucracy.
Feedback: please feed the need; Sithlawyer@aol.com
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They are the
property of George Lucas. Any resemblance of the bureaucrats to
persons real or living is meant to be noticed and slanderous
characterizations are not only implied but down right intended
Obi-Wan Kenobi walked lightly down the halls of the Jedi
Academy. He had just completed his first week of classes in the
new term and all in all, things were looking pretty bright.
Several months earlier the young apprentice had received a
letter from the Republic government that he was eligible to
receive several grants and awards that he could apply to his
Jedi Academy tuition fees. With the money he was getting from
the government, Obi-Wan was able to quit his despicable
part-time job. In fact, he had only hours earlier gone to his
former boss at the Galactic Burger Shack and told him,
respectfully, to stuff it. Still feeling elated by the thought
of never flipping another burger, the padawan's steps grew even
bouncier as he neared his quarters. His thoughts began to
center on his career as a jedi. Now that he had more time to
devote to his studies, Obi-Wan was certain he would be ready to
take his trials even sooner than he had first anticipated.
Shifting the backpack on his shoulder, he realized he could
even be a full knight within two years, tops. Unable to repress
a gleeful smile, a beaming Obi-Wan rounded the last corner
before reaching the hallway lodging his room.
Slowing slightly, the apprentice peered quizzically down the
hall. It appeared that one of his neighbors was moving out.
They had piled a large heap of their belongings out into the
passageway. Obi-Wan was at a loss to think which of his fellow
students could possibly be leaving. As he made his way down
towards his room, his smile drooped and his stomach started to
turn. He began to recognize the things in the hallway as being
his own. Once he was upon the mass of personal items he
realized someone had effectively taken his entire quarters and
emptied it unceremoniously into the hallway. They had thrown
out all of his furniture, clothes, knickknacks and even the
contents of his refrigerator into one giant ball outside his
door.
Obi-Wan carefully climbed over the broken remains of a lamp,
dodged a gallon of ice cream which was furiously melting all
over his tunics and CD collection and stretched his arm far
enough to reach across an overturned sofa to place his palm on
the door lock. Nothing happened. He tried again. And again.
Desperately, Obi-Wan began to slap his hand on the palm lock
trying to gain entrance to his room. Futilely he attempted to
employ the force to wrench open the door, but still it would
not move.
At last, the padawan changed tactics. He decided to phone his
master, Qui-Gon Jinn to see if he had any information regarding
why he had been kicked out. He knew it couldn't be a failure to
pay the rooming fee, because that was always deducted
automatically from his government loan disbursement check.
Obi-Wan knocked on the door of his nearest neighbor, intending
to ask to borrow a comm-link. He cursed himself for not
thinking to take his with him that morning. He knew attempting
to find it in the giant pile that had been his quarters would
be impossible. Unfortunately, no one was home at his neighbor's
and he had to move to the next door and knock again. Sadly, no
one seemed to be home in any of the domiciles he checked, so
once again Obi-Wan changed strategies.
Taking the nearest stairwell, Obi-Wan descended three flights
to the Jedi Academy Residence Halls administration desk. He
pushed the buzzer marked with a "Ring for Service" sign and
politely waited. As he was standing at the counter anticipating
help, he watched amusedly as a troop of jawas scuttled into the
main doorway. Although he was still put out from his mysterious
eviction, his good nature overcame his dour circumstances and
he began to chuckle lightly. His eyes followed the tiny aliens
as they bumped and careened into one another in an attempt to
maneuver several large repulser lifts into the residence hall
lobby. He was feeling much better about his own mishap after
watching the jawas and their equipment squash into an elevator.
Once again regaining his smile, he was pleased further to hear
the voice of the hall manager who had finally arrived at his
summons.
"Yeah, watta ya want?" the gruff sound grated on Obi-Wan's
ears.
Smiling deferentially at the large, bearded figure, the
padawan pleaded his case. "Excuse me, ma'am," he began sweetly,
"but there seems to have been some kind of mix-up with my
quarters. Apparently someone accidentally locked me out of my
room."
"Ah, you must be Kenobi," replied the dorm matron, the
cigarette dangling from her lips accentuating her every
syllable. "Nope, no mistake. I got the eviction order right
here. Mover droids showed up around noon and took care of your
stuff."
"I don't understand," Obi-Wan complained. "Why am I being
evicted?"
"Says here 'nonpayment of room and board fees.'"
"There's been some mistake," Obi-Wan calmly reasoned. "My
payments are all paid automatically through my Galactic
Stafford Loan."
The large woman shook her head sadly at the padawan, ashes
from her cigarette fanning around her in a semicircle. "Sorry,
kid. There's nothing I can do. Orders is orders. Maybe you
should go talk to the Financial Aid Office or see what your
master can do."
"Yes, of course," Obi-Wan said, his head spinning slightly.
"May I use your comm to make a call?"
"No students allowed to use official Academy comm-links.
There's a campus comm down the hall."
The apprentice thanked the matron and headed off towards the
direction in which she had pointed. He failed to notice the
jawas exiting the elevator, their lifts piled high with
familiar belongings.
Obi-Wan entered the booth marked "Public Comm" only to find
that someone had stolen the mouthpiece to the unit rendering it
useless for placing calls. He was also somewhat shocked to
discover that his name had been etched into the wall of the
booth with a sharp instrument below the words 'for a good time
call.' The young man decided to postpone calling Qui-Gon for
the moment to concentrate on cleaning up the mess of belongings
he had left upstairs.
Standing in front of the elevator, Obi-Wan was in the perfect
position to hold the door open for a jawa who was having
trouble exiting as he struggled under the weight of a very
heavy box.
Upstairs, the elevator doors slid open and Obi-Wan was pleased
to see the figure of his good friend Bant. She flipped an
appendage in greeting at him and spoke in a bubbly, Calamarian
voice. "Obi-Wan, I was just at your quarters looking for you.
Why didn't you tell me you were moving?" she asked him,
sounding somewhat hurt.
"Because I didn't know I was," he replied and then proceeded
to tell her of his predicament.
"Then you didn't hire those jawa movers?" Bant asked him.
"You mean the droids," Obi-Wan corrected.
"No," she insisted. "I mean the jawas I just saw hauling all
your stuff down the elevator."
Realization hit the apprentice like a falling taun-taun. With
a cry of despair he hurled himself down the hallway toward his
former home. Once he got to his doorway, however, he saw only
two jawas, both diligently picking up the last pieces of his
belongings and loading them into a milk crate. The sight of the
howling, running jedi spooked the scavengers and dropping the
crate, they scampered past him. Flying into the elevator, they
began frantically pushing the door control. A second too late
to stop the elevator, Obi-Wan scooped up the box and dashed for
the stairwell. After descending to the lobby, he saw the last
jawa scuttling out the doorway. Breathlessly, he flew to the
exit but upon opening the door, was sickened to see a large
sandcrawler beating a hasty retreat down the spacelane.
Obi-Wan returned to the site of his former abode where Bant
had just finished gathering the remainder of his things. They
placed them inside the sadly empty crate. The apprentice took
stock of his meager possessions. He had his textbooks, laptop
and gym shoes in his backpack along with his lightsaber, thank
the Force. The pair began to take inventory of what remained of
Obi-Wan's apartment. Bant reached into the crate and drew out a
few pair of underwear, a towel, assorted letters and bills, an
old pair of sandals, a lava lamp, a can of nerf stew, a holo of
Master Qui-Gon and two dirty magazines. Obi-Wan's findings were
not any more encouraging. He fished into the crate only to find
his old padawan league baseball shirt, a fork and three spoons,
a leather collar and leash, a pair of Bermuda shorts (red), a
stalk of broccoli and two pairs of tube socks. It was not
encouraging.
Bant offered Obi-Wan a place to stay. But since her room was
modified for the maximum comfort of a Calamarian and Obi-Wan
could only hold his breath for so long underwater, he set off,
crate in tow, for Qui-Gon's quarters.
The padawan was relieved to find his master at home. He
stacked the pathetic remainder of his belongings in a corner
and related his woeful tail to Qui-Gon. The jedi, always the
stoic, didn't seem at all shocked by the traumatizing events
which had plagued Obi-Wan. The younger man envied his patience.
He was, however, quite put out by his master's next comments.
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, but I'm afraid you can't stay here,"
Qui-Gon calmly told him.
"Now, Padawan, you know I want to help you as much as I can,
but you must look at the implications of what you're asking.
I'm your master, it wouldn't be seemly for you to stay in my
quarters," Qui-Gon reasoned.
"I've stayed here plenty of times in the past. You never
worried about it before."
"But what you're talking about here is not an overnight visit.
You're proposing an extended stay. The other padawans might
think you're being given special favors," the master replied.
"Special favors! Is that what you call it? Well, I hope you're
not expecting me to be giving you any favors, special or
otherwise tonight, buddy," Obi-Wan huffed.
Qui-Gon placed his hands on his hips and looked at his
apprentice sternly. "I know you have been through a very trying
experience, Obi-Wan, but that is no excuse to become insolent,"
he told him reprovingly. "If I let you stay here, I could be
subject to review by the council's ethics board. You wouldn't
want me to risk losing my tenure, would you?"
"Of course not, Master. I'm sorry," the apprentice apologized.
"I shouldn't have been so selfish."
The taller man placed his hand reassuringly on Obi-Wan's
shoulder. "That's all right, Padawan. I'll contact Master Yoda
and see if he won't let you bunk with him for a few days." He
began steering Obi-Wan towards his pile of belongings. "In the
meantime, you might want to go over to the Financial Aid Office
and get this straightened out." Qui-Gon handed the milk crate
and backpack to his apprentice. With a push towards the door he
charged Obi-Wan with a last piece of advice. "I'm sure you can
get this all straightened out, just remember to use your jedi
training."
With that last cryptic remark, Obi-Wan was on his way to the
administration wing of the temple, all the while wondering what
his training had to do with a little paperwork snafu.
By the time the padawan reached the financial aid office, he
realized he had seriously underestimated his predicament.
Obi-Wan placed himself at the end of the line of students
waiting for assistance. The young apprentice knew he was in
trouble when he realized he couldn't even see the aid office
from where he was standing. The line of desperate applicants
stretched out the office door, down the hallway, around the
corner, down two flights of stairs and out into the Coruscant
street. It did not look promising. Obi-Wan tried to strike up a
conversation with the student in front of him, but the young
woman merely stared back at him with a vacant, glassy-eyed
stare. He waited patiently for forty-five minutes, slowly
inching his way forward. Suddenly he was struck by a moving
wave of sound. A loud groaning began up towards the front of
the line and systematically worked its way back to where he
stood. Obi-Wan felt a shiver of fear when suddenly, the girl in
front of him rolled her head and joined the chorus, moaning a
pathetic "Nooooo."
"What?" he asked her concerned. "What is it? What's the
matter?"
She turned her hollow eyes on him with a perplexed look.
"Don't you know?"
"No. I've never been here before. What is it?" he asked again.
Slowly shaking her head the young woman replied, "They've
closed the office for the day."
"Oh well," said Obi-Wan lightly, "I guess I'll take care of
everything tomorrow."
The girl looked at him amazed for several seconds before
breaking out into raucous laughter. When Obi-Wan screwed his
face up at her in a puzzled manner, she began laughing even
louder. Still giggling hysterically, she walked off, leaving a
confused padawan contemplating his next move.
Yoda welcomed the youngster very cordially, and having
expected him, even made up a small guest room for the
apprentice. Although Obi-Wan was very grateful for the jedi
master's hospitality, he was having difficulty with the living
arrangements. All of Yoda's furniture was proportionally sized
for the short being. Obi-Wan could handle his legs being too
long for the chairs and the sofa, he didn't mind ducking under
the door jams and using smaller utensils really wasn't much of
a hardship. But the young man was definitely too tall for
Yoda's fresher unit and the tiny bed was impossibly small for
him to sleep in. Even so, Obi-Wan could have dealt with any of
these things easily. It was something else which drove him to
distraction. He quickly learned of Yoda's passion for the
Galactic Wrestling Federation. The jedi had his holovid turned
onto GWF wrestling all hours of the day and night. And he liked
it loud. Thunderously loud. Obi-Wan realized persons of Yoda's
advanced years often suffered from hearing loss and so he never
made an issue of the annoyance. He did think it oddly
coincidental that the times that Yoda wanted to watch were
always at the same time Obi-Wan had to study. The apprentice
simply spent more time at the library in order to do his
homework. Of course, that was when Yoda developed his penchant
for late night viewing.
Obi-Wan had little time to consider the implications of this,
however. He was far too busy learning just what it was that
made the girl in the line laugh at him. After several days of
waiting in the financial aid line without ever making it far
enough to see a counselor, he realized the humor of his naive
statement. It seemed to him that every time he got close enough
that he was certain to be waited on, he would have to leave to
attend a class. It was horribly frustrating. After talking to
fellow students that he met during his wait, he learned that he
would have to skip a class or two if he ever wanted to see the
front of the line. Obi-Wan rubbed the crick in his back that
was a product of Yoda's bed. He considered his lack of
clothing; he was forced to wash his jedi tunics every night
since he had no others and had worn the same outfit for the
past week. He then calculatedly made the decision to forego
class for the opportunity to straighten out his financial
situation.
Although the line appeared shorter the next morning when
Obi-Wan arrived, it seemed to be moving slower than ever. He
was prepared to skip an exobiology class and had already spoken
to Qui-Gon about possibly missing meditation training and
lightsaber practice. His strategy paid off, however and he was
actually able to see one of the financial aid counselors.
"What was your name again?" the thin man behind the counter
asked him.
"Kenobi. K-e-n-o-b-i. Obi-Wan. O-b-i-dash-W-a-n," he informed
him helpfully.
"Nope. You're not in the system. Sorry." The clerk turned his
head to the students desperately waiting in line. "Next!" he
called to them. Quickly the student at the front dashed over.
"Wait!" cried Obi-Wan. "What do you mean, 'I'm not in the
system?'"
The clerked glared at Obi-Wan as though he was surprised the
young man was still there. "We have no record of you in the
computer system, so we can't help you," he said, exasperated.
The eager student who had rushed up to the counter was trying
to shove Obi-Wan aside. Clutching at the edge of the counter,
the apprentice pushed him back and screamed through the glass
window. "Wait! Wait! How do I get in the system again?"
"Go to the Digital Computer Lab," the man supplied, just as
Obi-Wan was hurled away from the desk by his fellow student's
thrusting hip and jabbing elbow.
Four hours later, Obi-Wan found himself at the front of the
line at the Jedi Academy Computing Center. The clerk behind the
desk he stood in front of was pointedly ignoring him. He didn't
understand the woman's attitude. Obviously, it was her function
to help people who came to the lab, in fact, she had been
assisting students all day long. He had seen them one by one
approach her counter, waiting patiently until she decided to
acknowledge them. There was no pattern to the length of wait
that the clerk imposed. Obi-Wan had used his jedi skills of
observation to carefully catalog the woman's movements. There
was no logic to it, he decided finally. Students were ignored
for anywhere from 30 seconds to fifteen minutes. If they
attempted to speak or assert their causes, the plaintiffs were
shushed or waved into silence. Further protest only extended
their wait. Obi-Wan was perplexed by the reasoning behind the
clerk's actions. In between customers she did nothing. No
organizing files or filling out forms, those were all tediously
executed in the presence of each student. She didn't even spend
time on personal pursuits such as speaking on the comm. Or
doing her nails. The woman simply sat staring at the blank
computer screen. Obi-Wan decided that either the woman was
playing a very sophisticated and evil power game or else she
was mentally ill. In either event, he concluded, she was
perfectly suited for her job.
At last the clerk decided to acknowledge him and Obi-Wan
supplied her with the details of his problem. Nails clacking on
the keypad in front of her, the woman gave the young man the
first bit of good news he had heard in days. "Yes, I can take
care of that. No problem. Do you have your jedi I.D. card?"
Obi-Wan proffered the requested item. "O.K. It will only take a
. . . uh oh," the woman sadly said.
"Uh oh? What do you mean, 'uh oh,'" Obi-Wan asked with
trepidation.
"The system just crashed again. Sorry. This happens all the
time. Why don't you come back later and see if it's working
again," she supplied.
"But I've already waited in line half the day!" Obi-Wan cried.
"I've missed all my classes and I haven't eaten for hours. I
can't spend all my time here."
The padawan was amazed to discover that apparently either his
whine or his sad face were pathetic enough to break though the
clerical indifference of the computer clerk. "All right, all
right," she sighed. "Here. Take this number and call back to
see if the system is up yet." Obi-Wan snatched the piece of
paper with the scrawled comm. frequency on it and thanked the
woman profusely.
Later that day and for most of the next, Obi-Wan attempted to
contact the computer lab. On the few occasions that someone
actually answered the comm., he was invariably put on hold. The
length of time he waited with the comm-link pressed to his ear
ranged anywhere from two minutes to two hours, which was, he
determined, the cutoff limit for the automatic call system and
the point at which he was always disconnected and forced to
redial. Obi-Wan returned to the computer lab and took his place
in line again.
After several days of waiting, Obi-Wan began to despair. He
had finally been able to get his jedi student info put back
into the computer system, but his war with the financial aid
office raged on. The latest obstacle his tormentor chose to
throw at him was a classic diversionary tactic. Each trip to
the aid office invariably ended in his being sent to another
office in a different area of the temple. Obi-Wan now had to
juggle his waiting in line with his travel time to all the
exotic locales that the aid office could concoct sending him
to. Unfortunately, this activity was seriously cutting into his
study time, pushing back the number of hours he had available
for sleeping. The weary and stressed apprentice found his
schoolwork was being affected. Not only was he missing classes
in his attempt to straighten out his dilemma, but he was also
frequently unprepared for his assignments and occasionally he
fell asleep during lectures. The padawan had been living with
Master Yoda for almost three weeks and the living arrangements
at the jedi master's quarters were not helping Obi-Wan's
predicament. His latest sleepless evening was the result of an
all-night wrestling party wherein half the jedi council had
joined his green host in yelling, cheering and drinking beer in
front of the holovid. Obi-Wan was convinced his luck was cursed
when the special pay-per-view match just happened to take place
on the night before his first Hyperdrive Mechanics test. The
apprentice figured he still had time to make up his grades, but
not if he continued to live with his boisterous roommate.
It was with a heavy heart then and a tired body that Obi-Wan
returned to Galactic Burger to beg for his job back. He hoped
with the small paycheck he would receive from flipping nerf
burgers, he could get his own place. Unfortunately, even that
dubious comfort was denied him. The boss was all too happy to
inform his former employee that he had been replaced. "Yeah, "
he sneered gleefully at the crestfallen jedi. "I got two jawas
working now for less than I had to pay for just the one of you.
They work harder, too," he added contemptuously. "Always
running around doing something. Not like you lazy jedi. Think
you're too good for food service," he spat.
Obi-Wan was too exhausted and depressed to formulate a reply
and considering the source, did not feel the need to defend his
honor. Instead, he simply turned and left the burger shack. He
was pleased, however, when on his way out, he noticed two jawas
hurriedly loading the food and cooking supplies they were
pilfering from the kitchen into a sand crawler. "Yep," he
observed, "always doing something." He continued walking.
The next day, Obi-Wan met Bant for lunch. She was gracious
enough to pay and Obi-Wan promised when he got his loan money
he would return the favor. The Calamarian had been very
supportive to Obi-Wan throughout his ordeal, but had felt
helpless because she could not aid her friend any more than she
had. But having found a solution to that frustration, she was
especially excited to see her classmate on this particular
occasion.
"Obi-Wan," she exclaimed as soon as they had sat down to eat.
"I have the perfect idea for you. Look." Bant pushed a flyer
onto the table in front of Obi-Wan. The page read: "Roommate
needed. Rent cheap." There was an address and comm. number
listed, but nothing more.
"Well, it's certainly succinct," Obi-Wan offered.
"I've already called for you," Bant gurgled happily. "I told
him you didn't have money now, but were going to receive a
financial aid check soon. He said he didn't mind waiting and
that you could probably work out an arrangement. He seemed very
nice over the comm. Such a beautiful voice, too. He wants you
to come over tonight so you can look at the place." Obi-Wan
wasn't sure exactly how Calamarians smiled, but he was certain
that whatever the expression on Bant's face may have looked
like to a human, to another of her species, it was probably the
broadest of smiles. Although he was dubious, he couldn't hurt
her feelings and agreed to go. She clapped her fins together in
glee. "I'm so happy Obi-Wan. I'm glad I could finally do
something to help," she bubbled.
The pair got up to leave, Bant to go to class and Obi-Wan to
resume his place in line at the aid office. "Oh, by the way,"
he asked as they were about to part ways, "what's this guy's
name?"
Bant scratched her skull and concentrated. "Dirk? Yes, Dirk I
think. Dirk Mall."
Later that evening, Obi-Wan knocked on the door of Dirk's
apartment. Loud voices were blaring from a holovid and pouring
through the door. The padawan pounded his fist on the portal
loudly and was answered with a swish of air as it opened.
Obi-Wan wasn't sure what hit him first. The physical wall of
sound from the holovid, no longer muted by the door, or the
sight of Dirk. Considering the respective travel velocities of
sound and light, he decided his shock was definitely the result
of seeing Dirk. No, he decided, science had nothing to do with
it. It was all about scary as hell. Yep. And his potential new
roommate had a heaping dose of that. "Um, Hi," he choked. "I'm
Obi-Wan. Are you Dirk Mall?" he asked.
"No," the deep soft voice replied. Instantly the padawan's
initial fear subsided. It was all he could do to repress a sigh
of relief, until the figure at the door continued. "I'm Maul,
Darth Maul. You're my new roommate." Obi-Wan felt his stomach
sink.
"Ah, yes, well, about that. . ." he stammered, gazing at the
horned and tattooed man. He didn't have time to finish his
excuses before he was grabbed by the arm and pulled into the
apartment.
"I will show you to your room," breathed Obi-Wan's host. The
young jedi had to admit that despite his frightening
appearance, his "roomie" did have a very pleasant voice. It was
velvety and almost hypnotic. The padawan followed Maul through
the messy apartment. The dark lord opened a door and gestured
to Obi-Wan. "Here," was all he said.
Obi-Wan peered through the portal into a small room. "Is this
a walk in closet?" he asked, remarking on its size.
Maul frowned at him. "No, this is your room," he told Obi-Wan.
"The closet is over here." He walked over to a sliding panel
and pulled it back. The shelves and floor were completely
filled with little boxes and half the hanging space was
occupied by black robes. Maul pointed to the piles of boxes.
"These are my Xena figurines. You will not disturb them. These
clothes must stay here as I have run out of closet space in my
room," Maul informed.
Obi-Wan was not concerned about the amount of space to hang
his clothes, after all, he really only had one set of tunics
anyway, but other aspects of the apartment disturbed him.
"What's that?" he asked, gesturing to a blue mass lying on the
floor.
"Ah," replied Maul in that voice of his, "that is your bed."
At Obi-Wan's confused look, he explained. "It is an inflatable
mattress. The foot pump is in the closet."
"Oh," replied Obi-Wan. He took in the rest of the tiny room.
There were two bookshelves aligning the walls, each packed full
of strange tomes and sleazy magazines. Next to the limp
mattress there was a low coffee table with a cushion in front
of it which Obi-Wan assumed was meant to be a desk. The only
other thing in the room was dirt. Lots of dirt. Obi-Wan
searched his mind rapidly for an excuse to back out of the deal
Bant set up for him. Before he could come up with anything
plausible, Maul addressed him.
"I will show you the kitchen," he said, turning and walking
away. Obi-Wan followed. The sight of the galley area almost
threw the padawan into shock. Piles of dirty dishes were
stacked everywhere. Counters and appliances were covered in an
indescribable muck. Obi-Wan pinched his nose from the stench.
"You will purchase your own food and not eat mine," Maul told
him.
"Not a problem," Obi-Wan said sincerely.
Maul swept his gaze over the apprentice, making Obi-Wan very
nervous. "Now we will discuss our deal for your delayed rent
payment," Maul's voice suggestively toned. Obi-Wan began to
feel the effects of his "fight or flight" instincts. "You will
perform for me certain duties," Maul continued. Obi-Wan began
to bolt. "These include cleaning and other menial housekeeping
chores." The padawan stopped his escape attempt.
"Housekeeping? You mean you want me to clean?" he repeated.
Maul looked at him wearily. "I believe I have made that
perfectly clear. You will also do dishes and wash my laundry.
Cooking is not required. We will consider it an interest
payment on your forthcoming rent check."
Obi-Wan considered. Granted the place was a sty, but it
wouldn't take much to fix. Obi-Wan didn't mind having a little
extra laundry and Maul's furniture was standard size,
inflatable mattress notwithstanding, this joint had to be more
comfortable than Yoda's. There was only one thing standing in
the way of Obi-Wan signing the lease.
"So Dirk," he asked, "do you like wrestling?"
Several weeks later a bone-weary and frustrated Obi-Wan found
himself holding his customary place in line at the financial
aid office. He reached the front position and a woman gestured
to him to come to her station. Obi-Wan stepped up to the
counter and noticed it was covered in a multitude of small ewok
figurines. There were also magnets, coffee cups, and crocheted
dolls, all in some way bearing a likeness of a furry ewok.
Obi-Wan choked back a retch and explained his problem to the
woman smiling at him from amongst the ewok display.
"Oh, Honey, that's no problem at all," she told him.
Obi-Wan was taken aback. "It's not?"
"Oh, no, Sweetie. I can take care of that right now. What was
your jedi I.D. number again?"
Obi-Wan's heart leapt. He loved this woman. He loved her
ridiculous little figurines. He loved life!
As the woman typed his information in, Obi-Wan noticed a man
walk up to stand behind her. He held a satchel and was looking
at his watch. Suddenly he spoke. "O.K. Gert. Shifts up. My
turn."
Gert looked at the ewok clock in front of her. "Oh, my! So it
is," she said. She looked then at Obi-Wan. "Sorry, Dear, but
I'm only part-time. Boba here takes the other half of my shift.
He'll finish helping you." She then bent over and lifted up a
shoebox. Methodically she began placing the pieces of her ewok
shrine inside, carefully bubble-wrapping the breakable pieces.
Obi-Wan watched her with increasing frustration. To be so close
and be thwarted. Well, he thought, Boba could finish up what
Gert had started easily enough.
Eventually, Gert finished her packing and bid Obi-Wan a
farewell. The young apprentice began to plead his case to Boba
who slid into Gert's vacated chair.
"Can you wait a minute, here?" the man asked Obi-Wan testily.
"I'd like a moment to settle in, if that's all right with you,
I mean." Obi-Wan was fairly certain from the tone of Boba's
voice he didn't really want an answer. Then as the padawan
looked on in horror, the clerk withdrew a shoebox out of his
satchel. He began pulling out his own menagerie of strange
little figures and arranging them in front of his workspace.
These weren't cute little ewoks, however. Obi-Wan repressed a
shudder as Boba pulled out one sick little sculpture after
another. There were representations of maimed beings, mutilated
creatures and even a cross-stitched calendar with a headless
wookie on it. Obi-Wan repeated to himself, "There is no fear,
only financial aid." It wasn't helping.
Finally, his box emptied, Boba addressed the padawan who told
him his situation and Gert's offer of assistance. "Oh, that old
bag," Boba spat derisively. "She doesn't know what she's doing.
You'll just have to be patient and wait. Your check will arrive
soon enough."
"Soon enough!" Obi-Wan burst. "I've been waiting half the
semester already! I've got a stack of bills as tall as Yoda
that I can't pay. Strange women call me at five in the morning
demanding payment. I'm sleeping on an inflatable mattress with
a hole in it and waking up on the hardwood every morning. I
have to study on the floor and I don't think my back will ever
be straight again. And best of all, for these wonderful living
arrangements, I have to do housework for the darkside. I eat
nothing but ration packs and spagetti-o's and for sith's sake,
I've only got one set of tunics and they're practically
threadbare because I have to wash them every day. Of course
that's no big problem since my roommate, the clotheshorse, goes
through so many outfits I have to do laundry constantly to keep
up with him. But that's only when I can find the time in
between cleaning up after him and his goth friends and all
their beer and pizza guzzling pig-fests. Not that any of that
interferes with my studying, mind you, because I spend all of
my time at this force-forsaken place standing in line, so I
never make it to most of my classes to even know if I'm missing
an assignment. And since I'm so behind in my studies, my master
thinks it best I 'devote my weekend hours to catching-up.'
Which although terribly prudent, also accounts for the fact
that I haven't had sex in almost ten weeks. Not that that
matters either since I'm so exhausted I couldn't feel my dick
if a mynock were chewing on it. But, hey! I'll just be patient.
I'll be a good little fucking jedi and stick some patience up
my ass. How 'bout that? Eh? That what you want?"
Obi-Wan's eyes were wild and his breathing rapid. The line of
students that had been desperately pressing forward hoping to
be waited on began backing away from the hysterical padawn.
Boba, however, was unaffected.
"Next," he casually called. Obi-Wan ran screaming from the
room.
A short time later, Obi-Wan entered the classroom and took his
seat next to Bant. "Any money today?" she asked him. That
phrase had some time ago replaced 'hi' as her standard
greeting. Obi-Wan shook his head and shrugged.
The students grew silent as Mace Windu walked into the room
and took his place behind the podium. Obi-Wan was really hoping
Windu would be in a good mood today. The jedi master's
Intergalactic Law class was extremely difficult and today
Obi-Wan was completely unprepared for it.
Windu steepled his fingers and spoke. "I believe today we will
begin with a hypo." Inwardly, Obi-Wan groaned. He hated
hypothetical questions. They were always so convoluted and
ridiculous. They really had no bearing in reality.
"Let us assume you are the young ruler of a planet called, oh,
Faboo," Mace paced up and down on the dais. "Your planet
entered into an agreement with a trade federation. There was a
dispute over certain rights of trade stemming from this
agreement. Now, the other party has blockaded your trade routes
and is attempting to coerce you into signing yet another
agreement with them. What would you do?" Windu began to scan
the room for a victim. Obi-Wan willed himself into
invisibility. It didn't work. "Mister Kenobi. Enlighten us,"
Windu said.
Obi-Wan straightened up from where he had been slumped down in
his seat. "Um, well, I think I'd seek help from the Republic,"
he answered.
"Yes, yes, good," Mace replied. "How?"
Obi-Wan grew confident. "Uh, well I guess I would appeal to
the Senate."
Windu stopped pacing and put his hands on his hips. "And what
could possibly be your reasoning for that, Mr. Kenobi?" he
asked. Obi-Wan spirits began to dip.
"Um, because the courts are too slow?" he tried.
Windu passed a hand over his eyes and sighed. "People, people,
how many times do we have to go over this?" He looked
patronizingly at Obi-Wan, whose face was as red as jawa's eyes.
"This is a question of a trade dispute, Mr. Kenobi. Disputes
over contracts are arbitrated in the courts. This is basic,
people. The courts represent the judicial branch of the
Republic. The Senate is the legislative branch. Courts,
judicial. Senate, legislative. Repeat that with me." The class
intoned a reply and Obi-Wan's embarrassment grew with each
word.
Finally Mace resumed his place behind the podium and shuffled
his notes. "OK, people," he said, "let us move on." Obi-Wan
breathed a sigh of relief. "Turn to the first case for today,"
Mace instructed. His request was followed by a chorus of noise
as the students flopped open their textbooks. "OK, Solo v.
Calrissian. This is an action brought by one Solo to have a
contract enforced by which he was to have been given one space
vessel by name of the Millennium Falcon contingent upon his
winning a game of sabaac. Who would like to tell us about this
case?"
Limbs flew towards the air, waving frantically. Obi-Wan's was
not among them. He was desperately trying to find the case in
his book. He hadn't read it, but he at least wanted to follow
along. He glanced at Bant's book for the page number. He tried
to find it in his own copy, but couldn't. Oddly, that page was
missing. Then he realized why. The adjoining page had writing
on it describing various food and household items. The words
had been partially obliterated by a large x scratched across
the page. Maul had used his textbook to write out his grocery
list, then ripped the pages out to take to the store with him.
Although he had left half of the case in the book, albeit with
the first draft of the list scrawled on it, Obi-Wan couldn't
make out any of the words because Dirk had written his list
with a Sharpie marker. That bastard, Obi-Wan thought, a pencil
wasn't good enough for him. His murderous thoughts were
interrupted as he realized Master Windu was calling his name.
"I'm sorry?" he stammered.
"I said, can you tell us the facts of the case, Mr. Kenobi?"
Mace repeated.
Obi-Wan swallowed. "Uh, um, I don't have that page, Sir. The
sith lord I'm living with must have took it," he offered. He
was about to continue his apology when he realized every head
in the room had turned to stare at him. Windu's eyes were wide
and his brows were raised so high, they looked poised to take
flight.
"Mr. Kenobi," Mace asked slowly, "did I hear you correctly?
Did you just say you were living with a sith lord?"
Obi-Wan realized his mistake and tried desperately to
backpedal. "Uh. Um, No. No, of course not. Ha. Oh, dear me, no.
Not a sith lord. No, Um. A sick whore. Yes, that's it! That's
what I meant to say. Sick whore. I'm, in fact, living with a
sick whore. You know, slutty, got a fever, little drainage, the
usual."
Windu looked at him dubiously. "Well, Mr. Kenobi, perhaps
tomorrow you can spend less time with your diseased trollop and
more time preparing for class." With that he called on another
student and Obi-Wan slunk back into his chair.
Several mornings later, Obi-Wan found himself once again
standing in line. This time, however he was not at the
financial aid office, but rather the Jedi Student Services
office. He had been sent here under the belief that his
Republic aid check had arrived, and was being held for him. The
padawan had felt only a glimmer of hope at hearing this. At one
time, he would have whooped for joy to know he was so close to
getting his money. But his experiences of late had jaded
Obi-Wan and he no longer saw the bright side of everything. All
he could think of when directed to the new office was that the
location of the battle may have changed, but the face of the
enemy was the same and the war raged on.
He was completely correct. After waiting in line long enough
for his face to grow stubble, Obi-Wan was able to approach the
counter. "Yeah," he began reciting. "Kenobi. K-e-n-o-b-i. Jedi
ID number is 246-63-3825. You gotta check for me?"
He leaned heavily on the counter, desperately trying to keep
his eyes open. He hadn't slept in three days. That morning he
had taken his Force Philosophy midterm and since he had been so
behind in his studies, it required several all-nighters for him
to attempt to cover the material. What was worse, he had to
spend a good portion of that study time at the laundry-mat
trying to catch up with Dirk's dirty clothes. Obi-Wan had made
sure that every piece of black clothing had been cleaned,
pressed and neatly put away before he left that morning. He
also made sure every micron of the apartment was spotless. He
was bound and determined that when he returned home tonight, he
would go directly to bed and do nothing but sleep.
The short blue figure behind the glass flapped his wings
furiously as he regarded Obi-Wan. "Sorry. That's a not been
processed yet. You gone to have to wait," he told the jedi.
"Processed? What exactly does it take to process it? The
financial aid office says it was registered as being received
here yesterday. So fly back and get it, already." Obi-Wan's
sleep deprivation was making him decidedly testy.
The potbellied clerk buzzed about peevishly. "Processing's not
a easy you know. We can't a drop everything whenever a check a
comes in. We will a mail it to you." The blue creature narrowed
his large eyes at Obi-Wan. "You jedi always thinkin' you gonna
get somethin' for nothin'. Waving you hands around like that
and makin' commands," he shouted.
Obi-Wan was too tired to be riled, and could only manage a
pathetic indignation. "I wasn't waving anything. Look, I
need that money. My next tuition installment payment is
due tomorrow. It's not going to kill you to flap your little
blue ass back behind the counter and look through the inbox for
a check marked Kenobi."
The clerk huffed at him and flew close enough to Obi-Wan's
face that his breath blew steam patterns on the glass
separating them. "It's not a my job a to look. Even if it was,
I wouldn't do it. You stinking jedi make me sick. And I saw you
try to waggle your fingers at me with you're a stupid jedi mind
trick."
Obi-Wan pressed his nose up against his side of the glass
partition making himself look rather pig-like. "You think I
been wagging my fingers at you buddy? Here! Here's a finger for
you," Obi-Wan told him though clenched teeth as he flipped the
clerk the bird. "Thanks for all your help," he yelled,
exiting the room.
Outside the office, Obi-Wan took several deep breaths. He had
never been so close to the dark side before. It was
frightening, but his experiences of late had been building to
the point when his temper was always on edge. For years, his
training had included lectures and lessons on the dark side of
the force, but until now, Obi-Wan had never truly felt it. The
administrative wing of the Temple was rife with it. Obi-Wan
feared it would infect him too, before it was all over.
With those dark thoughts Obi-Wan headed back to his apartment,
seeking sleep. His roommate met him at the entrance to his
apartment building. "Hello Dirk," he greeted Maul.
Dirk rolled his eyes and refrained from yelling 'that's Darth'
for the hundredth time. Instead he handed him a telecomm pad.
"I was just heading to the financial aid office to look for
you. This arrived a few chronos ago," he told Obi-Wan.
The padawan looked at the missive. It read: "Payment overdue
stop. Repossession of collateral to take place today stop.
Please have kidney standing by for retrieval crew stop. Love,
Republic Collection Agency stop."
"Aiyy!" Obi-Wan was in shock. "What do I do?" He was so
stunned, he didn't realize he was asking the advice of a sith
lord.
"Hmm," Maul mused. "I may be able to help." He reached in the
folds of his robe and retrieved his wallet. Obi-Wan was even
more surprised at this display than the news his kidney was
going to be re-poed. He was chagrined to think he had judged
Maul so wrongly. Sure, he was an evil denizen of the darkside,
but he was actually willing to part with some scratch to help a
jedi in financial need. Maul pulled a white piece of paper out
of his billfold and gave it to Obi-Wan.
"What the hell is this?" Obi-Wan asked, annoyed that it wasn't
republic credits. He looked at the business card and read out
loud, "Galacton Bio-Services. What's the squash, Maul?" he
asked his roomie.
"This company will pay you money for your plasma. Cash. The
more you weigh, the more they pay you," he informed him.
Obi-Wan looked down at his muscular, yet slight frame and
sighed. "I'll never get paid enough to get my kidney back," he
moaned.
Once again Maul's eyes rolled to the top of his skull and he
issued a disgusted grunt. "Put rocks in your pockets you
idiot," he told him sharply, then turned and left for their
apartment.
Obi-Wan thought it best to head over to the donation center
immediately. Even though he was exhausted, he wasn't sure when
the repo man would be showing up to collect his kidney. He
didn't relish the idea of taking a nap only to wake up with
missing organs.
The young apprentice scanned the price per pound listing at
the plasma factory. He reasoned he could pay off the collection
agency if he weighed 328 pounds. He then retreated to the
parking lot and began cramming his pants with blocks of
concrete. His ruse was successful and the technicians who
weighed him clocked him at just under 375. Obi-Wan was pleased,
thinking he could use the extra few credits for a good meal and
a haircut. His padawan buzz was drooping in a rather
embarrassing manner.
He relaxed on a reclining couch while the technician prepared
his arm. Suddenly his comm. buzzed. He answered it to find Bant
on the other end of the line. "Obi-Wan," she gurgled, "I was
just calling to remind you not to forget your lightsaber
make-up exam this evening."
Obi-Wan had, of course, forgotten. He still had seven hours
before the exam, though he reasoned. Thank the Force make-ups
were always held in the evening. He could still run back to his
apartment and grab some sleep and his lightsaber, before he had
to be back at the temple. Obi-Wan's stomach began to knot. He
had to do well on this exam. He had missed the first test
standing in line at the financial aid office. He was also
terribly behind in his practice. He knew the other students he
would be facing off against had perfected moves that he had
never seen because he had skipped so many classes. Lightsaber
401 was his favorite course, and now here he was in fear of
failing it. He laid his head back on the couch as the wookie
nurse slid the needle in his arm and began draining fluid. The
rhythmic thrum of the machine separating the particles in his
body fluid began to hypnotize him. He was facing a very
important test that could seriously affect his becoming a
knight and all he could think of was sleep.
Four hours later, the technician was back and shaking him on
the shoulder. Obi-Wan was surprised the process had taken so
long. He got to his feet shakily, collected his money and
wobbled out of the door.
What Obi-Wan, in his sleep deprived state did not realize, was
that for each incremental increase in body weight, the donation
center did in fact pay more, but this was because they withdrew
proportionally larger amounts of plasma.
Upon exiting the facility, Obi-Wan was extremely light headed.
He was overcome with a wave of dizziness in the parking lot and
sank to his knees. Futilely he struggled to stand, but was too
weak and passed out. The jawas who found him and picked his
pockets of his recently acquired funds were kind enough to
notify the donation center of his predicament.
Obi-Wan lifted his eyelids to see the face of the wookie nurse
who had drained his blood. He growled to the technician who
moved towards the couch and began helping Obi-Wan stand.
"You're a jedi aren't you?" she asked.
"Uh, yeah," Obi-Wan replied trying to center himself.
The technician and the nurse nodded sagely at one another. "We
figured you must have been to have gotten so dizzy from the
donation," the tech told him. Obi-Wan, having realized his
deception regarding his weight was most likely the culprit,
thought it best not to disagree. The tech continued. "No
offense, but I've never seen a fat jedi before. Don't they have
some kind of standards?"
Obi-Wan affected an indignant posture. "The jedi do not
discriminate on ridiculous standards of appearance. Our ally is
the force and it is not so fickle as to choose who it moves
though on the basis of one's skin color, gender or the size of
one's thighs."
The wookie nurse barked a sincere apology, as did the
technician. "Gee, I'm sorry," she said truthfully. "We'd always
heard that size didn't matter, but I guess we never believed
it. I didn't mean to be disrespectful."
Feeling quite guilty, Obi-Wan reassured her. "Oh, that's all
right," he told them. "I shouldn't be so touchy. I'm just
really tired and I have a big lightsaber exam in less than
three hours and I'm still kind of dizzy and I have to pass it
and my whole career as a jedi could be at stake and there's a
repo man coming for my kidney and . ." He would have gone on
forever in his delirium if the tech hadn't stopped him.
"Hey," she interjected. "We can help!" When Obi-Wan looked at
her, puzzled, she explained. "Well, we don't just separate out
plasma from whole blood here. We also separate out
midichlorians. We could give you a booster shot of some to help
you overcome your fatigue." Upon seeing Obi-Wan's face brighten
considerably, she continued. "We can also get you a kidney to
give to the repo man."
"You do organ transplants here too?" Obi-Wan asked, taken
aback.
"No, no," she replied. "But Lewie here brought one for lunch."
The wookie howled in agreement.
Obi-Wan assented to the plan and allowed his new friends to
inject him with midichlorians. Once again however, he forgot to
consider the issue of his artificially increased weight. When
calculating the dosage of midichlorians to give him, the nurse
and the technician figured in his inflated mass. Thus, it was
that Obi-Wan headed home riding the biggest midichlorian high
of his life.
With a bloodstream coursing with midichlorians and a body so
in tune with the force, he thought he was hooked up to an
electric current, Obi-Wan entered his apartment. The flat which
only hours ago had been neat as a pin was now a sty. In the
center of that sty sat Maul and one of his goth pals, eating
nachos. Obi-Wan could see through the open door to Maul's room
that the sith had been trying on clothes again. A huge pile of
garments sat next to a hamper, waiting for Obi-Wan to clean
them. The padawn's frazzled nerves finally exploded and he
began to howl like a banshee.
Quickly he strode to his room, while Maul and his friend,
frozen in their eating binge, stared after him. When Obi-Wan
emerged from his tiny abode brandishing an ignited lightsaber,
Maul's friend ran out the door. Maul, however, was made of
sterner stuff. He flew across the room and grabbed his own
weapon. He too, ignited his blade and the two roommates
clashed.
The fight was furious. Each blow was accentuated by
accusations and name-calling. Cries of "Pig" and "Stuck-up
Jedi" filled the air. Obi-Wan blamed Maul's disorderliness on
his ancestors and Maul cited Obi-Wan's inability to remember
his name as a product of his upbringing. Finally, having had
enough play, Maul ignited the other end of his lightsaber. He
held the dual edged weapon at Obi-Wan threateningly.
"Whoa," breathed Obi-Wan. "Where in the Force did you get
that?" he asked.
Maul smiled smugly. "It's custom," he told his nemesis.
"Can I see it?" asked Obi-Wan.
"Well, I don't know," Maul hedged. "You'd probably hurt
yourself."
Obi-Wan looked at him, annoyed. "Oh, please. If you haven't
managed to kill yourself yet, I doubt I'll have a problem."
"Fine," returned Maul, handing him the weapon. "But don't
expect me to wipe your ass when you cut your arms off."
The padawan began hefting the double blade in several practice
swings. "Wizard," he exclaimed.
Maul was somewhat pleased with the effect his weapon had on
Obi-Wan and began offering him advice. "Be careful of the
follow though and don't step into a thrust like that. No, no.
Here, let me show you."
Shortly, Obi-Wan stepped through the door of the gymnasium. He
felt the eyes of his classmates staring at him. He couldn't
really blame them. Because his tunics had become damaged from
his fall in the parking lot and his pants were all stretched
out from his ladening them with rocks, he had been forced to
seek alternate apparel. Obi-Wan had donned his old padawan
league baseball shirt. Although he could still get it on, he
had worn it originally ten years ago and it was extremely
tight. Maul had convinced him that by showing his muscles in
that manner he could attract babes. Obi-Wan figured this was
probably just a ruse Dirk invented to avoid having to loan him
a shirt. The sith was kind enough to let him borrow a pair of
trousers, though coupled with the skin hugging t-shirt, the
baggy black pants looked rather odd. But Obi-Wan didn't care,
he was there for business.
Walking over to where he spied his friend Bant standing,
Obi-wan flashed her a broad smile. "That's the first time I've
seen your teeth in weeks, Obi-Wan," she told him. "Except when
you were gnashing them." The Calamarian had already taken and
passed her lightsaber test, and Obi-Wan was grateful she showed
up just to be his encouragement.
"Bant, Can I ask a favor of you?" Obi-Wan addressed her.
"Of course, Obi-Wan. What is it?" came her instant reply.
Obi-Wan pulled a roll of duct tape out of his gym bag. "I need
to borrow your lightsaber," he said simply.
At first it had elicited laughs from the other students. But
soon, the strange design of Obi-Wan's modified lightsaber began
to strike fear in the hearts of his opponents. One after
another, Obi-Wan's fellow students came up against him to spar.
And methodically he defeated them with the double bladed weapon
he had constructed with the two lightsabers and the duct tape.
He utilized the moves Maul had shown him and still riding his
midichlorian high, easily whipped the butts of all assembled.
When the test was over, the practice master granted him a high
score.
Obi-Wan powered down both blades and spoke with his friend.
"Bant, do you mind if I borrow your lightsaber a little
longer?" he asked.
"Of course not, Obi-Wan," she replied. "But don't you want to
go celebrate?"
"No. I've got an appointment with some bureaucrats I need to
keep," he answered cryptically. Saying nothing more, he
gathered his gym back and walked out the door.
One week later, Obi-Wan was happily unpacking his new
belongings and arranging them in his quarters. With the advent
of his loan money, occurring almost instantaneously upon his
arrival in the financial aid office with his new double
lightsaber, Obi-Wan had begun to acquire all the necessities of
life. He was just unwrapping his new mattress when the door
buzzer sounded.
Palming the lock, Obi-Wan slid the door panel to reveal
Qui-Gon and Master Yoda. He greeted them politely, and showed
them around his newly refurnished quarters. "Very Nice,
Padawan," Qui-Gon told him in approval. "You've weathered this
very well." Obi-Wan beamed.
"Why we are here that is," said Yoda. "Passed your first trial
you have."
Obi-Wan's eyes became saucer-like. "Excuse me?" he choked.
"Did you say I passed a trial?"
"Yes, Padawan," answered Qui-Gon. "This was your first trial.
The test of patience. You passed! Congratulations!"
"This was a test? But surely you didn't . . ." Obi-Wan trailed
off suspiciously.
"Yes, did we," Yoda smiled, pleased with himself. "All our
doing it was. Arranged everything did Qui-Gon and I. Postponed
your financial aid we did."
"You did this? You put me through that, that hell for
some stupid little test?" Obi-Wan's voice rose.
Qui-Gon rested a hand on his apprentice's shoulder. "Now
Obi-Wan, it wasn't just some 'little test.' It was one of your
trials. You're that much closer to being a knight now."
Although this revelation soothed Obi-Wan somewhat he was
unwilling to simply forget the horror he had been through. "But
it was awful. And you did it to me. How could you? Why didn't
you tell me?"
"Well, now, we couldn't could we?" Qui-Gon said. "If you tell
someone 'OK, it's time to take your trial for patience,' no
matter what happens, they won't be tempted to lose their
patience because they know it's a trial. The element of
surprise has to be there. If you think about it I'm sure you'll
understand why. Of course, most padawan's don't hold out as
long as you did. We've even had a few turn to the darkside who
were exposed to the financial aid scenario." Qui-Gon shuddered
with the memory.
Obi-Wan's psychic trauma from his battle with the
administration was still too recent for him to completely
accept his master's reasoning, but he knew soon that would
pass. "I'm sorry, Masters," he told the two jedi. "I shouldn't
have been so insolent. It's just, well, been rather trying."
Yoda bobbed his head in agreement. "Know this we do, young
one. Understand we do also. Leave you now we will." The jedi
began to head towards the door.
"Remember, Padawan. We are proud of you. You made it through
one of the most difficult trials without losing your patience.
You showed much skill," Qui-Gon told him as he left the
apartment. Obi-Wan waved good-bye and fervently hoped no one
would question the scorch marks adorning the counter at the
financial aid office.
The End
ps. I waited ten weeks for my loan check, did in fact live with
a sith and sleep on a deflated matress, and no, I didn't even
get credit for pasing any &*%# trial. chat.
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