I have taken some liberties with the characters here, so in
advance, I beg forgiveness. --Chat Noir
Archive: M_A, anyone else-go for it
Category: Humor/parody
Rating: PG (Language, mainly)
Warnings or spoilers: no, don't think so
Summary: The teenaged Qui-Gon Jinn and Mace Windu embark on a
quest to find the perfect Birthday gift.
Feedback: gimme, gimme
Disclaimer: No intention was made here to do wrong to these
wonderful characters. It was an act of love, (and insanity).
Forgive me.
The jedi students began to slowly file out of the gym,
politely talking to one another as they passed their instructor
at the door. A tall, dark-skinned young man walked next to his
even taller, yet thinner companion. Both appeared to be around
sixteen or seventeen years old and displayed big, toothy grins
to their teacher.
"You showed great skill with your levitation today, Qui-Gon,"
the shorter boy complimented the taller through his clenched
teeth.
"Thank you, Mace," Qui-Gon replied between grinding molars.
"Though your abilities with mind manipulation are far more
impressive."
The two young jedi rounded a corner and immediately dropped
their sham smiles. They spun in sync, turning to face one
another with hot faces and bulging eyes.
"Qui-Gon, you little bastard! You deliberately used the force
to tickle me when I was concentrating on my mind trick
exercise," the darker boy shot out.
"Only because you put thoughts of Master Tibee naked in my
mind when I was trying to levitate those weights. And who are
you calling 'little' you dwarf asshole?" Qui-Gon threw back.
"I am normally sized. You are a freak. Besides, I was
referring to your prick," Mace returned.
"I'm going to kick your ass, shrimp," Qui-Gon's finger shook
in his adversary's face.
"Just try it, Gigantor," Mace knocked the offending digit
away.
"There is no try butt-wipe, only do," Qui-Gon reached for the
throat of his enemy. But before he could stretch his long
fingers around Mace's neck, he noticed the darker boy's jaw had
fallen open and his eyes widened in a look of shock.
Immediately Qui-Gon suspected their altercation had been
witnessed by a faculty member. Instantly his hands fell and he
swung his head in all directions at once searching for the
source of a forthcoming rebuke. But he saw no one. The hall was
empty except for himself and Mace Windu who was at that moment,
smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Shit, Qui!"
Mace burst at his attacker. "That reminds me! Do you realize
what tomorrow is? It is Master Yoda's birthday. We are expected
to go to his party and we never got him a gift." All thought of
the battle which was on the verge of breaking out only moments
before had been completely forgotten.
"Yes, we got him a gift," Qui-Gon stated calmly.
"No, we did not, butt-munch."
"Yes, we did dick-weed, we got it two weeks ago when they took
us on that field trip to Aldaraan."
"OK, Brainiac, what did we get?"
"Get, well we got, I know we got something, I think, I
mean..." Qui-Gon trailed off.
"See, stupid? I told you," Mace declared triumphantly. "We
were going to buy him something, but you decided we should
spend our credits on that stupid rock."
"It was force sensitive," the taller boy defended. "Besides,
you agreed to it. What are we going to do now? We don't have
enough money to get anything decent. And we have to get Yoda
something nice, especially since we accidentally broke those
precious mammals figurines of his."
"What to you mean, we? I am not the one who could not control
his humongous feet and tripped over Master Yoda's coffee table.
I am not the one whose big ass fell on top of his little
statues and squashed them all to littler pieces. Your feet,
your ass, your fault," Mace systematically retaliated.
"No, you're just the shit-head that tripped me in the first
place, that's all. And come to think of it, I don't believe I
ever paid you back for that," Qui-Gon blustered.
"You do not have that kind of funding, wimp," rebounded
Windu's taunt.
"I'm going to kick your ass, scum-ball" Qui-Gon promised,
lunging once more for Mace.
"You and what droid army, loser?" came the reply as Mace
lunged in turn for Qui-Gon.
The battle was joined. Qui-Gon's greater reach allowed him to
snake his arm around his foe's head. By holding the back of
Mace's neck in the crook of his elbow and grasping his hands
together, the taller boy was able to apply an effective
headlock. His control with the move was not practiced, however
and this allowed Mace to work his arm out and back far enough
that he could pound his fist into Qui-Gon's stomach with great
force. With a whoosh of air, Jinn instinctively released his
hold on Mace. The boy, free from the headlock, slammed his
shoulder into Qui-Gon's torso, grasping him around his
midsection. He mentally calculated what defensive moves Qui-Gon
might employ to escape. He did not, however, expect his
opponent to fight dirty. Reaching up over Mace's shoulder,
Qui-Gon grabbed the other boy's padawan ponytail and yanked
hard. A yowl of surprise escaped from Windu' mouth, a product
of both shock and pain. Mace was not a slow learner, however,
and before Qui-Gon could make another move, the dark boy
grabbed his adversary's braid and pulled it with equal
ferocity. The apprentices then drew back their legs, preparing
to give simultaneous kicks to the groin. Suddenly, both boys
found themselves grabbed by their respective collars and jerked
off their feet.
Standing above them were two jedi masters. They were not
pleased. The first one to speak was a humanoid alien with
yellow wrinkled skin and large drooping ears.
"What do you children think you are doing? Fighting? Here? A
jedi does not engage in pointless altercations. I can sense the
rage in you two. Anger leads to the dark side. Are you so
willing to gamble with the fate of your souls?" he asked
passionately.
The two boys answered in unison, "No, Master Tibee."
"I want the both of you to return to your rooms and meditate.
You will skip your dinner," Tibee instructed the two wayward
padawans.
Once again, the chorus, "Yes, Master Tibee."
The seemingly chastised boys schlepped down the hall. They had
gone only yards before Qui-Gon found he could no longer control
his enthusiasm. He grabbed Mace by the arm and spun him around.
"I've got the perfect idea!" he gushed.
"What are you talking about?" Mace asked.
"Yoda's present, moron," he was answered. Qui-Gon was grinning
as he continued, "Master Tibee gave me the idea. Gambling! We
each have a few credits, not enough to get something good, but
if we pool them we could go to one of the gambling
establishments and win more with it."
Mace looked at his companion aghast. "Do you realize what you
are saying? How many rules that would be breaking?"
"Yes," replied Qui-Gon with unconcern. "We would have to leave
the temple without permission, go to a forbidden location,
engage in frowned upon activities and probably break curfew,"
Windu pointed out.
His fellow apprentice nodded his head and agreed, "That sounds
about right."
"Are you insane?" Mace yowled. "How are we going to explain to
our masters where we are going? They will never let us in the
casino anyway, we are too young. And besides, what if we lose
the only money we do have?"
"First, we'll just tell our masters we're staying overnight
with each other like we did that time we snuck out to see the
Max Rebo concert. It's not like it's not true or anything. As
to getting into the casino, you can use your mind trick on the
bouncers to let us in. And as far as the winning goes, we'll
pick some game that involves a moving object, say dice
throwing, and I can manipulate the outcome with my levitation
skills."
Mace found Qui-Gon's rationalizations for the completely
irrational strangely rational. It frightened him. "OK, I am
with you so far, but the mind whammy can only get us in the
door. There could be hundreds of beings in that casino and I
cannot affect them all. Our appearances are a dead giveaway to
our being jedi, what with our padawan haircuts. The management
might suspect we are manipulating the force to rig the games.
We need disguises. Preferably with wigs or hats or something."
Qui-Gon was secretly pleased at his friend's easy conversion
to his way of thinking. It had never been too difficult to talk
Mace into doing something stupid with him. "We could use some
of the costumes left over from last year's production of
Padawan on the Roof," he suggested.
Minutes later, the two apprentices were surrounded by piles of
clothing in the jedi temple's small theater. Qui-Gon stepped
over a pile of discarded hats and shoes to view his appearance
in one of the tall mirrors mounted on the wall. He turned to
his partner in crime who sat on the floor struggling with a
pair of lace-up sandals. "Well, I'm good to go. No one would
ever guess I was a jedi in this get-up," he declared, turning
his backside towards the reflecting glass and swiveling his
neck for a better look.
"No respectable jedi would have such bad taste. What possessed
you to wear leather pants? You are far too thin for those
breeches. Your legs look like long toothpicks. And that wig!
Wear one of the shorter ones. No one will believe you could
have hair that long at your age, although it does at least
cover up your ridiculous skinny ass," Mace commented sourly.
"What? You're full of it. Just because you chose to wear those
boring, old-man robes, doesn't mean I shouldn't look a little
more daring. We are going to a casino, after all," Qui-Gon
defended.
"These robes are dignified. We want to garner respect at the
casino, not business. You look like a prostitute."
"That's it. I'm going to kick your ass!" yelled Qui-Gon,
leaping over a pile of clothes towards Mace. The dark man
jumped up quickly and assumed a defensive stance. Just as they
joined in a wrestling clutch, Qui-Gon cried out in pain.
"What is it?" asked Mace worriedly. "What did I do?"
"These damn pants! I've got such a wedgie," whined Qui-Gon
pathetically.
Mace laughed raucously. "What do you expect when you
practically painted them on? Now quit your bitching and help me
find a wig, " he commented unsympathetically.
The two apprentices dug through the boxes of fake hair, but
found very little which would look realistic on the head of
someone with Mace's coloring.
"It looks like you're going to have to go with this one, dude.
None of the others is believable," said Qui-Gon, handing his
friend a shoulder length black wig made entirely of tiny
braids.
"Ew. Not that one. It has corn rows," derided Mace, his nose
and lip curled in a disgusted sneer.
"So put it on and we'll undo the braids," Qui-Gon helped.
"That will take forever. There are a million of them and it is
getting late," replied Mace.
"So we'll use the force dumb-ass, " Qui-Gon advised, setting
the coif onto Mace's skull. "There. Now concentrate." Both
padawans closed their eyes and began taking measured breaths.
Almost in unison they raised their hands and slowly braids
began floating in the air. Almost imperceptibly at first they
began to unwind. Quickly the movements began to increase.
Faster and faster the rows became undone until at last, none
remained. The two young men slumped down onto the floor.
"I know Master Yoda says 'size matters not,' but that was a
lot of braids and I am beat," Mace offered tiredly.
"Well, we've still got a long night ahead of us, Mace,"
Qui-Gon said and glanced at his friend. "I think you need to
adjust your wig. It's lopsided," he observed critically.
Windu pushed himself off the linoleum and plodded towards the
mirror. Upon seeing his reflection, he turned to his friend,
"Qui, I cannot go out like this! Now I have got all these
stupid waves. It looks awful. Do something."
Qui-Gon let out an explosive sigh. "You're such a whiney-ass.
Hang on, I saw a brush somewhere," he replied. After fetching
the grooming tool, the taller boy stood behind Mace and gripped
his shoulders. "Now hold still," he said and began to pull the
brush through the dark waves. After a few moments he grunted
seriously.
"What? What is it?" Mace asked in alarm. Since Qui-Gon had
begun in the back, Mace could not see the results of his
efforts.
"Well, it's just that it's getting kind of frizzy now," Jinn
explained.
"So, brush it some more. Make it flat," encouraged Mace.
"OK," replied Qui-Gon, spinning his subject around so he no
longer faced the reflecting glass, but was looking at him.
"This could get rough. Hold on to the wig and prepare
yourself." Mace nodded stoically in reply and anchored his
headdress. Qui-Gon began harshly dragging the brush over the
black tresses. It seemed however, that no matter how hard he
stroked or how fast, the hair got fuller and fuller. At last,
arms aching, he gave up.
"I'm sorry, Mace," he panted, "it's just not working. You'll
have to wear it as is."
Mace turned to gaze upon his visage. He let out an involuntary
squeak. "What did you do? I have the biggest 'fro on the
planet!" The young man began pushing on the edges of his
hairdo, vainly trying to compress its diameter.
"Oh, it's not that bad," said Qui-Gon nonchalantly. "We'll put
some barrettes on the sides to keep it out of your face and
it'll be wizard."
Mace groaned, but being the more levelheaded of the two,
realized with time being of the essence, that his vanity would
have to be ignored. He let Qui-Gon put the pins in his hair,
but refused to look at the result. He concentrated instead on
calculating whether or not his large 'do would fit through the
doorway.
Once they had returned the costume shop to a semblance of
order, the two padawans swiftly hurried down the darkened
halls, avoiding witnesses by scouring the path ahead of them
with their jedi senses. After several near-discoveries, the
young men reached the entrance to the academy. As it had been
on the several other occasions they had snuck out of the
temple, the doorway was unguarded. The first time they had
found this very strange, but then Mace had realized it was not
patrolled because no one ever broke the rules and left without
permission. Qui-Gon had found that idea hysterically funny.
Whatever the reasoning, the lack of a guard served them well
and they slyly exited the temple.
One block away the two apprentices boarded a public transport
headed for the casinos. They seated themselves toward the rear
of the vehicle, Mace accidentally thumping several passengers
with his coiffure on the walk down the aisle.
"You know, Mace, I've been thinking," Qui-Gon mused after they
had ridden a distance, "what do you think we should get Master
Yoda with our winnings?"
"I have already figured that out. Think about it. What does a
jedi master need most?" Mace grinned conspiratorially.
"Uh, lightsaber batteries?"
"No butt-brain. Think! OK, look. They always have to wear
those robes. And those robes have really big sleeves. So they
are probably always getting in the way, see?" Mace explained.
"Yeah! Like when they're reaching across the table, they
probably drag in their food," declared Qui-Gon, having mastered
the concept.
"Exactly!" praised Mace, who was about to continue his
explanation when he was interrupted by his cohort.
"Or when they go to the bathroom and their sleeves drag in the
stool when they try to wipe," Qui-Gon chimed triumphantly.
"Yes, Yes, now listen, dammit. As I was saying. We need to get
something to help alleviate this problem. I suggest cufflinks.
It is perfect," Windu finished.
"Cufflinks, the perfect gift for a jedi master! Good idea. Do
you think maybe we should get them engraved with his initials
or something?" Qui-Gon asked.
Mace rested his chin on his hand and thought for a second
before replying, "No, I do not think so. We merely want to
curry favor, not obviously kiss his ass."
Qui-Gon nodded his head sagely in agreement. Suddenly the
transport jerked to a halt and a tinny voice screeched over the
intercom. "Last stop, Jabba's Palace Casino and Resort," it
intoned. The boys left the vehicle and approached the bouncers.
Mace took a moment to center himself before shaking his fingers
at the doormen. A moment's concentration and the two rebellious
padawans were inside the door.
Walking quickly away from the stunned bouncers, Mace and
Qui-Gon stopped at the top of a small staircase to take in the
view. The casino was packed with all manner of creatures. The
panoply of people was intoxicating to the young apprentices.
Mace nudged his companion with his shoulder. "Look at the
redhead by the bar, Qui," he spoke lowly as though she could
hear from a distance of fifty feet. "She is out of this
quadrant."
"You like her?" asked Qui-Gon somewhat depreciatingly. "So go
up and say 'Hi' if you like her so much." Although his friend's
tone was somewhat derisive, Mace did not seem to notice. "Do
not be stupid. I cannot just walk up to her and start talking.
We have not been introduced," he defended.
"I can take care of that," announced Qui-Gon with what could
only be described as a 'shit-eating' grin. With that he began
to wave his arms in the air until the redhead turned to look at
him. At that point, however, Mace, his face burning, turned his
back to her with his head in his hands. His friend then began
gesturing down at him and at the redhead alternately. "Dude,
stand up," Qui-Gon demanded, "she's looking over here and she's
interested."
Mace's curiosity overcame his distress and he glanced toward
his paramour. She was indeed eyeballing him intently. He smiled
and waved. She smiled and beckoned him to her table. His
embarrassment was forgotten, replaced instead by teen-age
bravado. " Well I guess she cannot resist the grace of Mace, "
he swaggered.
Qui-Gon began to snort laughter. "What is that, your stud
motto?" "Screw you Qui-Gon, I'm going over there to get lucky,"
retorted Mace.
"Yeah, here's an opening line for you, stud-miester. 'Mace
Windu, do you do, too?'" the tall boy laughed.
"You are not funny, Qui-Gon," Mace sneered.
"Oh, wait, here's a better motto for you Romeo; 'Mace Windu-
Can't use a contraction, but ready for action'," Qui-Gon
howled.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean? I am out of here,"
Mace retorted, tossing several pounds of hair purposely behind
his shoulder with a 'hmph.'
Qui-Gon watched his friend stride towards his conquest, long
robes flowing from waist to ankle. He pretended to study a map
of the casino while secretly observing Mace's conversation. He
didn't have much time to spy before the dark-skinned man
returned, looking sullen. "What happened? What did she say?" he
asked animatedly.
"I don't want to talk about it," Mace glowered.
Qui-Gon noticed the redhead talking and smiling with a friend
who was now pointing towards Mace's back. "Oh, come on. Tell
me," he urged.
"She was not interested once she found out what I was," he
confided in a half-whisper.
"What, A jedi?"
"No, brainless, a man. With these robes, this hair and
standing clear over here, she thought I was a woman," he spat.
Qui-Gon began to roll with laughter.
"That is it. I am going to get some tokens. We are not here to
play games. Well, we are here to play games but not that kind,"
Mace stated. When Qui-Gon did not stop laughing, Windu threw up
his arms and started to leave.
"Wait a minute," Qui-Gon panted, trying to control his
hysteria, "what do you mean tokens?" "They take credits from
all over the galaxy here, but to make the gambling easier, they
exchange them all for tokens first, numb-nuts, that way they do
not have to worry about exchange rates at the tables," Mace
explained.
"Oh, want me to go with you?" asked Qui-Gon pulling his
credits out of an inside pocket of the spandex shirt he wore
and handing them over.
"No, you stay here and scope for a game we can manipulate,"
Mace advised and then set off for the exchange counter. Qui-Gon
moved through the casino observing the games of chance. Some of
them seemed terribly complicated and the young man began to
doubt the practicality of his great scheme. His leather pants,
long wig and the stuffy environs of the resort all served to
increase Qui-Gon's internal temperature. He started to sweat
profusely. As he continued to plod between one gaming table
after another he noticed he was feeling very warm and dizzy.
Just as he thought his parched throat and spinning head could
take no more, he noticed a waiter moving through the crowd with
a tray of beverages. Qui-Gon lurched unsteadily towards the
steward. He had only a few credits left that he had saved for
the transport home. But Qui-Gon weighed the idea of walking
back to the academy against the idea of his master receiving a
call that his padawan had passed out in a gambling dive and
decided to flag down a drink.
"How much?" he asked the waiter when the man had approached
him.
"They're complimentary, sir," the man replied, handing Qui-Gon
a large tumbler full of purple liquid.
"Free?" the apprentice clarified.
"Yes, sir. All beverages are on the house here at Jabba's
Palace," the waiter quoted policy.
"How neighborly," Qui-Gon noted, as another wave of dizziness
assaulted him. He put the glass to his lips and quickly tossed
back its contents. "Thank you," he sighed, setting the empty
vessel back on the tray. The drink did not taste too good, but
as fast as he had swallowed it, it was not completely
unpleasant. Qui-Gon did feel slightly cooler from the cold
liquid and admiringly eyed the remaining glasses on the tray.
"You may have as many as you like, sir. They're
complimentary," the waiter encouraged him.
"I am rather thirsty," Qui-Gon reasoned grabbing another
tumbler. "I should get one for my friend, too," he thought
magnanimously, snatching a second glass.
The waiter moved on and Qui-Gon greedily sucked down the
contents of both drinks. He reasoned that Mace would not
hesitate to give him his if he were to know of the distress the
heat was giving him. And besides, he was taking too damn long,
anyway. Qui-Gon tried to look for his friend, but realized that
he had managed to wander far from the token exchange counter.
At least he thought he was. He wasn't really sure of his own
location at that moment. His head was becoming even fuzzier. He
spied another waiter darting between tables with a tray of
drinks. He made off with two more glasses, this time of a
pinkish liquid different from the last batch. He downed his
prizes in thirsty gulps and tried to regain his focus. The cool
drinks didn't help his spinning head, so he set off to find
Mace, or at least another waiter.
Qui-Gon began to fear his health was truly in decline as he
staggered across the casino floor. He was losing motor control.
His feet pointedly refused to obey his brain's commands. He
tried getting his legs to heed his mental wishes, but they too
remained steadfastly opposed. His knees as well were in a state
of anarchy. With this complete lack of mental direction,
Qui-Gon's limbs began to lurch wildly of their own volition.
Desperately he tried to exert what small measure of influence
he had over them and steer himself towards a series of tables
directly ahead of him. With small jerks, large stumbles and an
embarrassing careen into a wookie's backside, Qui-Gon managed
to attain the safety of a table.
The dizzy apprentice threw himself behind the table onto a
vinyl seating-bench. He began to scoot himself towards the
center of the booth. The noises his leather-clad butt made on
the seat reminded him of bodily functions and he broke down
into helpless peals of laughter. He didn't know why it was so
funny, but he couldn't stop giggling. He wiped his eyes only to
discover a waitress standing in front of him with yet another
tray.
"Would you like a drink, sir?" she asked. "It's
complimentary."
Qui-Gon grinned broadly, "'Course it iz," he slurred. "Gimme
two pleez. Thankuveramush."
The padawan's throat had become terribly dry during his bout
of laughter. He took the snifters of green liquor and glugged
them heartily. His throat stopped aching, but he noticed his
eyesight beginning to play tricks on him. He thought, perhaps
his strange illness had begun to affect his optical nerves.
Something was obviously wrong because standing in front of him
were two dark skinned women with large protruding hairy helmets
on their heads speaking with Mace Windu's voice.
"Are you listening to me, Qui-Gon? What the hell are you doing
in the lounge anyway? We do not have time to take in a show.
Did you or did you not find a suitable game?" the Mace-ladies
demanded.
At that moment, a waiter walked past Qui-Gon's table. He
flopped his hand at the man, noticing peripherally that his
disease had now moved upward to his arms. The man bearing the
tray moved forward and the apprentice snagged a glass in each
hand, clanking them unsteadily onto the table.
"I don't think we want those, Qui," the first puffy headed
Mace-lady said, sitting down next to Qui-Gon.
"Iz OK. Iz complamenary," Jinn slobbered.
"Shit! You definitely do not need that," declared Mace,
pulling the glasses easily from his friend's palsied grip and
placing them at the edge of the table.
"Buht, iz so hot in here, Mays," Qui-Gon drunkenly
rationalized. "An my hed iz dizzy."
"Well, more alcohol certainly will not help that. How many of
these have you had?" he asked.
"Dunno."
"Well, that is definitely too many. I will get some coffee.
Hopefully that is complimentary, too." Mace scootched out of
the booth and the butt-on-vinyl sound set Qui-Gon guffawing
again.
The drunken padawan tried to grab the drinks Mace had moved
out of arms reach. But since he could not judge the distance
with any accuracy, he only succeeded in slapping one of them,
sending it flyintop. Qui-Gon's pupils were dilated
and fixed on the stage. Mace looked over to see where his
friend was staring. He almost dropped the cup of coffee from
his hand as he exclaimed, "Holy poodoo!" The apprentice quickly
sat down and began to intently watch the production. He found
himself fixating on one human female in particular who wore
only a skimpy bikini bottom and two tasseled pasties on her
ample breasts. His trance was slightly broken by Qui-Gon's
voice.
"'E's bootiful," he managed to say around his numb tongue.
"Who, the brunette with the titty twisters?" Mace asked, never
removing his eyes from the show.
"No tha MC," Qui-Gon clarified.
"Emcee?" Mace wondered scanning the stage. Finally his eyes
rested on a man holding a microphone and gesturing towards the
dancers. "You mean that blonde guy?!?" he asked, shocked.
"'E's soo bootiful," Qui-Gon drooled, mesmerized.
"You have definitely had too much to drink, my friend," Mace
declared. He then grabbed Qui-Gon by the back of his head,
turning his face away from the revue. Mace placed the cup of
coffee to the taller boy's lips and commanded him to drink.
Qui-Gon did as he was told, but immediately returned to his
scrutiny of the lounge lizard.
Windu decided more drastic action would be required to sober
his friend. "Come on Qui, I think we need to try a jedi healing
trance on you, and this is not the place to do it." He began to
squeak out of the booth making farting noises as he went. The
sound distracted Qui-Gon from his lustful reverie and set him
giggling. Mace looked around the bar and noticed a refresher
station in the corner and thought it would serve as a quieter
location to try the meditation. "Come on, buddy," he
encouraged, "we are going to the restroom."
"Don haffa go," protested Qui-Gon, reluctant to leave before
the end of the performance.
"Too bad, you drunken nerf-herder, we are going," Mace was
firm. To accentuate his point he began pulling at Qui-Gon who
in turn clutched onto the edge of the table and wrapped his
legs around its support column. After a few moments of
fruitless yanking, the sober padawan changed tactics. He
stopped tugging on his companion and began to concentrate. Mace
sent out a thought to Qui-Gon. He told him his bladder was full
and he needed to use the bathroom.
Instantly, Qui-Gon moaned and squeezed his legs together, "I'm
gonna wet myselv," he squealed. Throwing both hands down to his
crotch in a protective gesture, the intoxicated jedi flew out
of the booth and towards the restroom. Mace trailed him making
apologies to everyone Qui-Gon bumped, elbowed and steam-rolled
in his mad dash to relieve himself. Reaching the facility a few
moments behind his friend, Windu entered to find Qui-Gon nearly
sobbing by a urinal.
"Mace, help me," he cried coherently, "I can't work the
fastener on these stupid pants."
"Hey, you sound better," observed Mace.
"I think it was the mind trick, it helped me focus. But screw
that, help me out here. I'm not used to this kind of fastener,
I can't undo it," Qui-Gon begged.
"Undress yourself you big baby. You were the idiot who got
himself drunk, you figure it out. It is only a pair of pants,
how hard can it be?" he replied haughtily.
"The breeches we wear at the temple don't have metal fasteners
and I think this one's stuck. This is the first time I've ever
worn leather pants before, you know," Qui-Gon desperately
reasoned. His anxious fingers pulled fruitlessly at the zipping
mechanism. "Besides, if I piss myself you're going to have to
walk around with me and my stench for the rest of the evening,
asshole"
Mace didn't care for that last thought and caved in. He shoved
Qui-Gon's trembling hands out of the way and began trying to
work the zipper. At that moment, the door opened and another
casino patron walked in. Taking in the scene of the two
padawans and their activities, the man's eyebrows shot skyward.
Mace was instantly embarrassed and tried to explain, "It's his
first time. I'm trying to help him," he chimed. The man nodded
knowingly and retreated out the door. Qui-Gon began to laugh.
Unfortunately, this only served to increase the pressure on his
bladder. As he sucked his breath in for air however, his tight
pants shifted and Mace was able to work the fastener free.
After Qui-Gon had blissfully relieved himself, the two
apprentices knelt to meditate and erased the remaining effects
of the alcohol. They exited the restroom and upon leaving the
lounge, passed the man who had walked in on their battle with
the zipper. He winked and smiled. Mace blushed and walked
faster.
The padawans reentered the main gaming area and began to search
for a target. As he glanced around, Mace caught sight of a
chronometer. He stopped dead in his tracks and dropped his head
into his hands.
Qui-Gon noticed his friend's distress and looked at him
questioningly. "What's wrong, dude?" he asked.
"Look at what time it is! All the shops are closed. Even if we
won enough money, we could not buy Yoda's cufflinks anyway. Not
to mention we broke curfew," Mace began, working himself up.
"This is all your fault you pantywaist. You could not hold your
liquor and now we are up shit creek. This has all been a waste.
You are such a fuck-up," he declared sticking his face is
Qui-Gon's.
The taller boy glared down at Mace and defended himself. "You
were the one that had to go skirt-chasing the moment we got
here. Don't blame all this on me. I got drunk on accident.
You've let yourself be led around by your dick from the moment
we got here. Not that it got you anywhere, you're such a
pathetic loser," Qui-Gon shouted.
"You are the loser. Big stud muffin, cannot even undo his own
pants. Maybe we should have brought your mommy along so she
could help you. Maybe even wipe your ass for you. Does your
master have to change your diaper for you, Qui-Gon?" Mace
sizzled.
"I'm going to kick your ass," Jinn cried, fresh out of
retorts. Simultaneously both boys threw up their fists and
began gesturing at one another. Qui-Gon was momentarily
distracted by a flash of gold hitting his eye. Instinctively
his sight followed the beam and as he realized its source, he
dropped his guard. Pointing a finger past Mace's shoulder he
yelled, "Look!" But not before his compatriot took a swing and
knocked him in the jaw. "Ow!" he yelped, pressing his hand to
his chin. Mace was ignoring him, instead looking in the
direction that Qui-Gon had been pointing.
"What?" he asked, searching the room. "There," Qui-Gon pointed
again, rubbing his jaw line mournfully. "That guy with the
pinstripe suit and fedora. He's wearing cufflinks."
Mace picked the subject from the crowd and turned to face his
coconspirator. "So what? You want to mug him or something?" The
darker boy's opinions of his friend's plans were steadily going
downhill and he was expecting the worst.
"No, dingleberry," Qui-Gon sneered, "we can get him into a
game of chance and make him bet his cufflinks and lose them to
us."
"Now I think I must be drunk, because that actually made sense
to me," Mace replied somewhat hesitantly.
"Come on, let's follow him and see where he goes," Qui-Gon
planned.
The padawans stealthily tailed the gambler through the casino.
At one point he stopped outside a door near the lounge where
the jedi had taken in the burlesque. The portal opened and the
female that Mace had so reverently admired emerged, though this
time with more clothing. "Hey, look Qui," he nudged his friend,
"it is that woman with the pasties."
Qui-Gon looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Who?" he asked.
"Never mind," said Mace disgustedly, "you were too drunk to
notice. Come on, they are leaving."
The two young men continued to follow the pair until they
stopped at a gaming table. Both jedi were relieved to see the
activity the dancer and her friend had chosen to play was one
that they could manipulate. The game appeared to consist of a
large wheel that had slots marked with various numbers and
symbols on them. The wheel was spun around and a small ball was
dropped in its center. Beings were placing bets on which
particular slot the ball would land in when the wheel stopped
spinning.
Mace sidled up to Qui-Gon. "Think you can direct the motion of
that ball, Qui?" he asked.
"Yeah, but not if I have to do the betting, too. I'll need to
concentrate," he replied.
"OK, I can handle that, but how do we get him to bet his
cufflinks?" Mace queried.
"Well, if we can win enough times and get a big pot, and make
him lose enough, we might be able to manipulate him into
putting them up out of desperation," Qui-Gon reasoned.
"Well," Mace stated determinedly, "we can only try."
"'There is no try, only do'" Qui-Gon quoted.
"Then let us do it," promised Mace. The padawans hit each
other's fists on each of their own and jerked their heads in a
nod before turning and approaching the table. They observed how
the man in the striped suit liked to bet before placing their
tokens on different symbols. Qui-Gon stood quietly focused,
moving the small ball to wherever his partner placed money.
Mace put smaller bets on different numbers, but Qui-Gon always
moved the sphere to the slot where he had placed the greatest
number of credits. In this way they avoided suspicion while
still amassing a large deal of tokens.
Qui-Gon's brow began to sweat and Mace knew he had to make his
move soon before his friend tired. He surreptitiously watched
the man and his dancer friend. At the beginning of the game the
woman had fawned all over the man, clinging to him tighter than
Qui-Gon's pants. However, Mace noticed, once the gambler had
begun to lose, she started distancing herself from him. Now
that the cuff-linked man had only a small pile of tokens in
front of him, the dancer stood at his side, her shoulder barely
touching his. He decided the time was ripe to change the
stakes.
"It looks like you have hit on a steak of bad luck there,
friend," Mace addressed the gambler.
"Mind your own business, twerp," the man rebutted with an evil
look.
"Just making small talk, friend. I was merely noticing that
with so little money left, you could hardly show this lovely
lady the good time she deserves tonight," he spoke slyly. The
woman raised her eyebrow at him, plainly interested in his
intentions.
"That's between her and me. Fuck off," spat the pinstripe
wearing gambler.
"Well, I am simply saying that I am in a much better position
to offer this young woman an evening befitting her great beauty
than you are friend. If she would be willing to have herself
lavishly spoiled, that is," he winked at the dancer.
"I might be interested," she hedged.
The gambler became infuriated. "I hope you realize I'm gonna
cave your puffy head in, boy," he challenged, eyes popping out
of their sockets.
Mace remained calm, "Well, you could try, of course, but I
suggest a more civilized solution." The man cocked his head
warily at the young jedi and Mace continued. "One final bet,
winner takes the whole pot. All my substantial pile of tokens
verses your few and the girl. Oh, and throw in your cufflinks
for good measure," he added.
"What? You can't bet me," the woman protested loudly, amazed.
"OK, you're on, frizzy," the gambler ignored her. He pulled
off the cufflinks and threw them on the table. "Place your
bet," he commanded.
Mace picked a number at random, confident in Qui-Gon's skill.
The gaming technician spun the wheel and the beings around the
table held their breath waiting for it to stop. At last, with
his friend's mental prodding, the ball came to rest in Mace's
slot. The gambler's face fell. He looked stricken.
"Wait, one more bet," he pleaded. "These are the keys to my
speeder. She's a classic. A genuine Mercenaries Benz. I'll bet
her against your pot. Nobody has that kind of luck. In fact I
think if you win one more time, I'll have to call security to
check you out for tampering devices."
Mace knew the man was calculatedly trapping him. He had no
choice but to go along with the bet. The young apprentice was
certain that if he refused the wager, the gambler would call
security anyway, and they would still be discovered. They had
to lose. Mace looked at Qui-Gon and knew he had come to the
same conclusion. The padawan shoved his pile of tokens onto a
number, but seemingly at the last moment, pulled out the
cufflinks. "I think I'll keep these as a souvenir, just in case
my luck changes," he mentioned as an aside. The boy reasoned
that while they might not be able to exit the casino rich, at
least they could leave with a gift for Yoda. Mace pulled out
the empty drawstring pouch he had kept his credits in and
dropped the jewelry inside. He then tucked it into a pocket of
his robes.
The attendant dropped the ball into the wheel and set it
rotating. Qui-Gon at first thought was happy to leave the
outcome of the game to chance. He realized at the last moment
that if he did so and the pinstripe man lost, he would probably
also lose the small control he had on his temper. After the way
Mace had goaded him into betting his cufflinks, Qui-Gon feared
he might try to retaliate against the two padawans. He decided
to manipulate the ball so that the gambler would win.
Unfortunately, the wheel had stopped by the time he made his
decision and refocused his energies. When he touched the nearly
still ball with his mind, it moved sideways in a gravity
defying hop to land in an adjacent slot. Luckily, the whoops of
glee bursting forth from the winners covered the slight faux
pas.
Mace put on a face that appeared suitably disappointed. He
nodded his head in acknowledgment to his adversary who greedily
grabbed for Mace's tokens. "A game well played, my friend," he
declared with phony respect. "But I fear this is the end of my
gambling for now. Good night." Mace attempted to turn with a
rakish swish and enforce his professional gambler persona, but
his large wig threw him off balance and he only succeeded in
stumbling backwards and sitting in the lap of the gaming
attendant. "Thank you for a well job done, young man," he told
the attendant in a superior voice as he removed himself from
his lap. Qui-Gon stood staring at him with a perplexed look on
his face, trying to decide whether or not to acknowledge that
he knew him.
Mace decided on a quick retreat. He began to stride
purposefully towards the casino exit that seemed, in his
terribly embarrassed state, to be miles away. Qui-Gon followed
on his friend's heels until he felt himself shoved aside from
behind. The dancing girl had unwrapped herself from her
gambling conquest long enough to grab Mace's arm.
"Hey wait," she told him when he had spun to see who clutched
him. "Thanks for offering to show me a good time, kid." The
woman smiled at Mace and then snaked her arms around him in a
gentle embrace. She kissed his dark cheek and whispered, "It
would have been nice." With that she left and returned to her
partner who stood viewing the exchange with hands on hips and
angry eyes.
Qui-Gon grabbed his stunned friend by the shoulders and spun
the unmoving man to face the exit. He placed his hand on Mace's
back and began propelling towards the door. "Come on lover-boy,
we'd better get out of here, before her boyfriend decides to
get Bothan on your ass," Jinn advised.
The jedi made their way through the casino without incident,
but were brought up short at the exit by a patrol of security
officers who were questioning all patrons who were leaving the
establishment.
"Oh crap," moaned Mace, "now what do we do? Do you suppose
they are looking for us?"
"Why would they be? No one knew what we were doing. Let's just
go along for now. If they give us any shit, you smack 'em with
the mind whammy," Qui-Gon proposed.
The apprentices strode towards the door and were hailed by a
security woman. She approached them with a holo in her hand.
"Excuse me sirs, have you seen this woman recently?" she asked
shoving the holo in their faces.
"Sith, Mace!" Qui-Gon exclaimed. "That's your girlfriend!"
"Girlfriend, sir?" the cop asked suspiciously.
"She is not my girlfriend, ma'am," Mace replied as
respectfully as possible. "I did 'talk' to her though." The
blush that rose in his cheeks convinced the security guard he
was being truthful. "What has she done that you are looking for
her, if I might ask?" he did, in fact, ask.
"This woman is a known con-person and pickpocket. She is
believed to be working incognito here as dancer and stealing
patron's winnings," she informed him.
"Pickpocket!" both boys cried in unison. Mace began to
frantically pat himself searching for the bag that held Yoda's
cufflinks. With a relieved sigh, he pulled the bag from his
tunic and smiled. "That was close," he understated. Qui-Gon
nodded and the two apprentices then related their experiences
with the con-woman to the officer. They described what she and
her pinstriped mark were wearing, where they had last seen her
and then watched as the patrol went forth to apprehend her.
The ride home was uneventful and the two padawans had no
trouble reentering the academy dormitory either. They decided
to sleep for what remained of the night in the theater so their
masters would continue to believe they were staying with one
another.
When the next day dawned, the boys went their separate ways to
clean up. They met for lessons and training, but had no
opportunity to discuss the adventure of the previous night.
They had no time to relax at all, in fact, until later that
evening at Yoda's birthday party.
A long line of masters, knights and apprentices had bestowed
Yoda with numerous presents and well-wishes. When it came time
for Mace and Qui-Gon to step forward and offer their gift, they
did so with beaming smiles. Although they had not had time to
wrap the cufflinks, the small pouch in which Mace had placed
them passed easily as a gift bag. The boys were convinced their
present would be the best one Yoda received.
"We decided to get you something practical, Master Yoda,"
brown-nosed Qui-Gon.
"It is something every Jedi Master needs," Mace sucked up.
Yoda looked at them inquiringly and undid the drawstring on
the pouch. He pulled the bag open and peeked inside. One of his
eyebrows raised knowingly and he thrust his tiny fingers into
the opening. He pulled out a pair of glittery small cups with
long tassels attached. Mace and Qui-Gon gaped. The pickpocket
had switched their cufflinks with her pasties.
The two padawans were at first so stunned at the sight before
them that they did not notice the dozens of jedi looking at
them and Yoda alternately; shaking heads, rolling eyes and
throwing up questioning hands. When they finally realized they
were the focus of some truly speculative scrutiny, their faces
began to burn. The boys began to squirm, looking for any excuse
to bolt from the room and the humiliating scene.
Yoda contemplated his gift pasties with a furrowed brow. He
released a quizzical grunt and placing one titty-twirler in
each hand, began to spin the tassels. Snickers and giggles
began to flit about the room, deepening the chagrin of the
gift-givers. Mace buried his face in his hands. Qui-Gon willed
himself into invisibility. Yoda stopped playing with his new
toys and laid the pasties on the table.
A big mouth padawan at the end of the table remarked snidely,
"Oh, yeah very practical. No doubt they'll be added to jedi
standard issue equipment along with the G-strings and ten-inch
heels." The party guests, desperate for emotional release after
stifling their reactions to the gift, now burst into booming,
raucous laughter. Mace moaned through his fingers like a dying
hound dog. Qui-Gon cursed his inability to turn invisible and
concentrated instead on trying not to cry. The two boys felt
they had been the butt of a galaxy wide joke. Everything they
had gone through at the casino to get Yoda's cufflinks seemed
like a farce. All their efforts had resulted in was their
complete and total humiliation.
The diminutive jedi master looked pityingly at Mace and
Qui-Gon. He cleared his voice purposefully to silence the
chuckling. When he had everyone's attention, he spoke. "Yes,
indeed, most practical. Mammary gland covers. Keep out chill
they do, when cold it is. Very popular they are on my home
planet. So elaborate a pair, very rare is. Very thoughtful
gift. Very special. Hard to find things from my home are. Much
effort this shows. My thanks you have, padawans."
The snickers and murmurs in the room stopped. The apprentices
even thought they heard several grunts and aahs as the jedi
fell for Master Yoda's ruse. A few of the masters still looked
suspicious, but they remained kindly silent. The hearts of the
two padawans filled with appreciation for the green being who
had taken pity on them and rescued them from the depths of
despair.
Qui-Gon's right lip twisted up, attempting a smile of
gratitude but fighting the shock that had frozen his features.
"You're welcome, sir," he managed to stammer, bewildered. Mace
looked up from his hands, his wide eyes staring at Yoda. He
gratefully acknowledged the compassion of the elder jedi. "Yes,
very welcome, sir," he gave the heartfelt reply.
Yoda went on to the next gift as though nothing had happened.
EPILOGUE
Later that night, after the party had died down, Mace and
Qui-Gon wandered aimlessly into the lush, quiet gardens of the
temple. The two friends trekked through the greenery, tired but
happy from the evening's celebrations. At last Mace broke the
silence.
"Well, our grand scheme turned out to be something of a bust,
huh?" he said.
"Not entirely. We didn't get caught. That's always a plus,"
Qui-Gon answered him.
"You know Qui, there is something I have been meaning to ask
you about," Mace hedged. "Um, you know how when you were in the
lounge watching that show and you were drunk and all? Well, you
kept going on about how good looking the emcee was and he was,
well, a him. You see what I am saying? I mean it is just that,
well you were looking at a guy and..." he trailed off.
"You were looking at the girls," Qui-Gon finished for him.
Mace nodded as his companion continued to speak. "Yeah, I
noticed. You were kind of looking at them all night. But I
wasn't."
Mace sighed, relieved for the assist, but determined to plunge
forward. "About that, I just wanted to say that, well we are
friends, right?"
"The best."
"Well," Mace continued, "this will not change that one bit,
will it?"
Qui-Gon's eyes widened slightly in understanding and he moved
quickly to assuage Mace's fears. "No, of course not. We're
still the same people. So we're still friends. We're different
in other ways, but they don't matter either. You'll always be
my bud, Mace." The tall padawan hoped he had convinced him.
Mace was afraid Qui-Gon was putting up a brave front and felt
he should offer more support. "I just do not want you thinking
that because this truth is out between us that I will treat you
any differently. I know some people have a hard time accepting
this kind of thing about other people and they can be very
hurtful." Mace felt it best that Qui-Gon knew the reality of
the situation he might be facing.
Qui-Gon moved quickly to calm the fear he sensed in Mace.
"Look dude, you don't have to worry about that. I am and always
will be your friend. What kind of kinky weird stuff you do on
your own time is none of my business, but I will support your
doing it because you are my friend. I'll treat you just the
same as I always have, count on it."
Mace was perplexed. "But I meant about what people would say
to you, not me," he pointed out confusedly.
"Well, don't worry about that, either. If any body wants to
diss me for being your friend, they can go right ahead. I don't
care much for the opinions of the ignorant, anyhow." Qui-Gon
was pleased with that little speech.
"No, Qui, I mean because of what you are, not what I am," Mace
tried to steer the conversation back to where he thought he had
started it. He wanted Qui-Gon to know he supported his
lifestyle but his friend seemed to be twisting things.
"I'm not worried about that, either, buddy. If you start
hanging out with more of your type of people, I'll understand.
I just hope you won't abandon me altogether," Qui-Gon
explained.
"Well, of course I would not abandon you," Mace was quick to
reply. "What I am trying to say is that I do not want you to
get hurt because of this choice you have made in your life." He
felt this last statement finally expressed what he had been
trying to say.
"Look, any one tries to give you shit about what you are and
I'll kick their asses," Qui-Gon stated firmly. "If they try to
give me shit about being friends with someone like you, I'll do
it again."
"You'd do that?" asked a moved Mace. "I mean defend my honor
and all?"
"Hey, just because my friend has a freaky hang-up for girls
doesn't mean he isn't still my fiend. And I'll shove my foot up
the tailpipe of anyone that pisses with us," Qui-Gon declared.
He then put his arm around Mace's shoulder and began to walk
him back towards the dormitory. "Got that, pal?"
"Got it. And Qui-Gon? Thanks," Mace said softly, placing his
arm around his friend.
They walked in this comradely fashion for a while until
Qui-Gon broke their reverie. "I've known for a while, you
know," he claimed.
"Known what?" asked Mace.
"That you were the way you are," he said.
"You did not."
"Yes, I did."
"How?"
"Remember that time Yoda took us to Hooters?" Qui-Gon
answered. "You were drooling over the waitresses."
"I was not drooling," Mace rebutted.
"Yes, you were. Master Yoda was totally embarrassed. That's
why we left early. He lied about getting heartburn from the
chicken wings," Jinn goaded.
"You are making that up, you dweeb" Mace said hotly.
"Not even. Yoda ordered the jumbo margarita just so he'd have
a large enough container to collect all of your drool in,"
Qui-Gon pressed.
"I am going to kick your ass, you lying ass-wipe" promised
Mace.
"You and what droid army, butt-smudge?" replied Qui-Gon.
And somewhere in the galaxy a bell rang twice, ding ding, as
the bout commenced.
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