Warnings: Well, if you're really a TPM fan who takes
your characters very seriously, then: Yes! Beware!
Spoilers: Not a one.
Summary: Our guys take on a scourge of the space lanes.
Feedback: I should jolly well think so!
Disclaimer: Dear Mr. Lucas, the characters are yours, the
vision is mine. You have all profits, I sit and pine.
Note: For full Enjoyment, please read Aloud with Great Feeling.
Our Story begins:
Come, young ones. Come gather round me. I have a story to tell.
A story of adventure. A story of danger. (His voice dropped.) A
story that will curl your hair.
[Are there princesses?]
No. Now, where was I?
[You were curling your hair]
All people within the sound of my voice are to be
silent...(keen eyes outstared young faces).
That's better. (Sound of readjusted robes.)
My story is Legend. My story is not Canon. (His voice hushed.)
My story is about the Mighty Qui-Gon Jinn and his Handy
Apprentice, Obi- Wan Kenobi!
[Golly!]
Let us begin...
The great Qui-Gon Jinn stood in front of the Jedi Council, his
posture reeking of confidence: feet spread, arms akimbo, fists
resting on lean hips. Robe falling in perfect creases. With
pointed chin, he looked his defiance at the array of beings
before him.
"You call yourselves Jedi." On his lips were the bare bones of
a sneer. "You are not fit to fill your robes." He snorted.
"Hell's backside, you are not fit to wear them!"
Dropping his arms in a graceful move, he pointed one fetching
finger and, slowly turning, looked each creature in the eye
and/or eyes.
"Hear my words, oh ye of stagnant brains. The time is coming
when our floors will shake, our walls will crack." His voice
dropped to a whisper. "Our very bread will mold beyond
recovery."
He turned back to face Masters Yoda and Windu, his voice strong
and confident. The voice of a hero. "My bags are packed, I'm
ready to leave you. One more time, let me warn you. The old
ways now, they don't mean a thing." The council was humming
along. Giving one last look around, he left them, his back
straight, shoulders up, hips giving one last wiggle.
The council had been warned. They knew that their fate, and the
fate of the galaxy, lay once again in the hands of the great
Qui-Gon Jinn. And His Handy Apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi.
"Obi-Wan. Pack our bags."
"They're already packed, Master."
"I see." The figure was glancing in the wall mirror, inspecting
for teeth-thingies.
"Socks?" "Yes, Master."
"Toothpaste?" "Yes, Master."
"All the underwear?" "Yes, Master."
Qui-Gon sucked through his teeth once.
"Lube?" A smile fizzed through the air. "Yesss...Master."
They exchanged the look of heroes.
"Then let us go, my fine Apprentice."
And they went.
To Goshalldarn. A slime pit. A Bogahive of scum and villainy,
lower on the nastiness scale than pudu. Of any species.
Goshalldarn. The home of their prey. The home of Awful Ned, the
most dire doer of dastardly deeds in the whole of twenty
systems.
Goshalldarn. Blggh.
The Jedi hid their tiny ship (3 rooms, one bed, one shower.
Well- used bed, well-used shower.) in a small canyon near the
main city of Duush, a mean city of scum and villainy...(ahem)
It was their mission, bold and dangerous, to take down this
Outlaw and his gang, this plunderer of the spaceways. He had
grown too bold and too dangerous and people were
starting to complain.
This would be the perfect time to strike. It was Awful Ned's
Nameday, the craziest day of his year. He would be excited. He
would be boosey. He would be unable to recognize much of
anything except food, drink, food and booze.
Or money.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had money. Lots. And no, don't ask where
from.
They also had a plan. A heroic plan. A plan of such brilliance,
it even knocked Yoda for a loop.
The two Jedi hurried across the moonlit lawns, furtively
seeking cover as they made their way around the perimeter of
the outlaw compound. All was going precisely according to plan.
"Master." The voice was a loud whisper in the dark. "Wait up.
I've got a wad of crap on my boot."
Qui-Gon slowed and turned. "Obi-Wan. Be mindful of your path.
It can lead to...yawp!" There was a muffled splash as Qui-Gon
fell backwards into the roasting pit full of Awful Ned's
Nameday feast of butchered Sorbo and drawn Nasba blood.
"Master!" Obi -Wan hissed. "Hold on, I'll save you!"
"All right, Padawan." The voice was a little weak, but the
undaunted spirit still sounded through the reply. "Hurry,
Obi-Wan. It's all yucky...and gooey..." There was a moment of
silence as the Handy Apprentice let down a safety rope.
"Padawan?...umm...I'm sinking?"
Fifteen minutes later, none the worse for wear, they reached
the main celebration. It was rediculously easy to overcome the
guards. Using finely honed Jedi skills, Qui-Gon casually
strolled up to each victim and engaged them in idle seduction,
while Obi-Wan snuck up behind and whomped them with a haunch of
Sorbo. Foolproof and deadly.
And now, they stood before their goal: the stronghold of Awful
Ned, the worst being to hit the galaxy since Peeky the Bold and
Irreverent. It was now or never. Using Frown No. 3, they Force-
whammied the main doors. As Corvamite splintered in several
directions, the gasping crowd of baddies saw a
beautiful...um...a frightening vision: two Powerful!Jedi stood
framed in the busted doorway, Light shining from every pore,
Goodness and Virtue radiating to all corners of the room. Every
alleged crook in their vicinity thought it was a crying shame
that they both had to slip on the very bottom step.
Awful Ned stood in front of the party crashers, eyeing them
intently though his one steady orb. He spat. Pah! Jedi scum.
Staggering carefully, he circled his captives, then came to a
stop just inches away from Obi-Wan's nose. And leered. He
growled his words out, slick with venom.
"Wanna feel me up, little boy? Ha, ha, ha, hahaha!" He
hiccuped. "I'm bad!"
Ah, yes. Time for a really quick change of plan.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan looked around at the outlaws. Then, each
other. Looking back at Awful Ned, they took a couple of deep
breaths, centered, smiled charmingly and said, "Gotta go!"
Whipping out light sabers with lightening speed, they soon cut
a wide swath through the cream of the bad guys. All Awful Ned
could do was stare, leaning just a little to the left, as he
watched his hand- picked gang go down the tubes.
The tiny ship was speeding toward Coruscant, its passengers
safe, mission accomplished. Somewhat.
Qui-Gon stood, clad only in beige skimpies, watching Obi-Wan
slowly undress. He loved this part. The purple briefs fit just
right. Mighty Qui-Gon moved.
Obi-Wan felt the heat prickle his skin as his Master came up
behind him.
"Padawan."
"Yes, Master."
"You seem to have a wedgie. Would you like me to...um...fix
it?"
The Handy Apprentice smiled. "Well, Master, to every hero his
just reward." He stepped back as Qui-Gon's hand...
Ahem. Okay, young ones, that's it. Time to go away.
[Wait, wait! What happened next?]
Nothing...I'm busy now.
[But...]
Shoo. I have a bunch of appointments.
[mumble, mumble, mumble]
Okay. If you're here tomorrow, same time...Well. Who
knows?
And the Storyteller walked back through the garden, his figure
bright in the afternoon sun.
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