Tuesday, October 25, 2005

When Padawans Attack

Now, I know when I was a padawan, I didna do anyting too stupid. I followed my master's instructions, played de bongos, drank a bit o' rum here and dere, but never too much, and occaisionally flipped out and tryed to kill random passers by wit' voodoo. Just kidden, mon (although, dere did be dat one time...). I certainly never went binge-drinken, mon. But jah know, we had a gang o' padawans down at de Nerf and Mynock dis evening, mon. Dey be drinken, and drinken, and some o' dem asked for some pretty funky booze dat even I didna know we be haven' here (in fact, I thought de stuff be illegal). Compared to some o' dis, a Tatooine Sunburn looks pretty tame, mon.

Now, while I be serven de drinks, I keep a big bottle o' rum wit' me. I take a swig every now and den, jah see. After dey'd had about ten glasses each, one o' de padawans pointed at me rum and said, "Tha'sh some pretty tame booze - hic - Quermian. Ish dat de besht you can - hic - do?"
I be willen, mon, to put up wit' characters like dis drinken through all hours o' de night - even padawans - so long as dey pay. But isulten me rum be goin' too far, mon! So I challenged him to a drinken' contest.

Brett loved it. He called de gamblers over from de illegal cas- er... from next door... to come and take bets. He served up de rum, and it began. If jah don't know a Quermian personally, mon, jah'd take one look at us and tink dat we can hold our liquor like a sieve holds water. But jah'd be wrong, mon. Quermians who've graduated from our bartender academies can drink half a gallon o' purefied vodka in one sitting. And I be no exception. I drunk dis kid under de table without breaken a sweat.

Den his friends got angry. One o' dem tried to tackle me. O' course, since I be dead, he went right through me. De flaw in his technique was dat one o' his padawan friends was standin' right behind me. It turned into a fist fight in seconds. Brett, dignified gentleman dat he be, joined in. As did most o' de other patrons. De Nerf and Mynock is a wreck now, so it be closed for a few days.

Monday, October 24, 2005

Back to work, mon



I be back on Coruscant. Quermia be a nice place, but it be very difficult for a jedi force-ghost to be getten a job dere, mon. Me job on Coruscant be great - I work at a bar-cum-illegal casino called de Nerf and Mynock, serven drinks, playen de bongos and occaisionally fillen' in as a bouncer when Big Harry de Dug be callen in sick, mon. Dis be a picture o' me at de bar. De oranges jah can see in de background on me left be for show - dey be not actually edible (in fact, dey got grenades hidden in dem, mon).

Me boss be called Brett. He be not bad (for a human) at maken rum, but a lot o' de time he be too busy. I tink he be involved wit' a smuggling ring or someting (don't tell anyone).

I got ta go now, mon, me shift starts in five minutes.

Saturday, October 22, 2005

Bongo Time: Finale

The Narrator: Having foiled E'etooi's hare-brained scheme and saved Quermia, Yarael Poof the deceased Rasta Jedi and his unlikely partner, the tea-loving, crumpet-munching Count Dooku return to the great stadium theatre where the annual Bongo Concerto is traditionally held. The Quermian MC is still nervously muttering and pacing back and forth.
Quermian MC: Oh, there jah be- be... be dat de-
Yarael: Yah, dis be it, mon. De recording of de bongo concerto. Jah can take it back and spread its music around Quermia now, mon.
Quermian MC: Tank jah, Master Poof. Tank jah so much... but wait - be dat Count Dooku?
Count Dooku: My reputation precedes me, does it? Spiffing!
Quermian MC: I thought, mon, dat jah be an evil minion o' de Dark Side o' Cuisine! I must have been wrong, mon, for now jah've helped bring our recording back to us! I be gonna put in a good word for jah restaurant at de Ministry o' Health, mon.
Count Dooku: Decisively spiffing, old chap. I am most obliged to you, good sir.
Yarael: Yah, yah, yah. Now, we got ta get on wit' dis, mon. De Quermian people been deprived o' dis music for too long!

The Narrator: The Quermian MC connects up the golden microphone and silver tape recorder to a huge set of speakers, and sets them playing. The delicious music of a thousand (or thereabouts) bongos playing floods the capital city of Quermia, and there is much rejoicing, and so on and so forth. Soon after, Yarael and Dooku go their separate ways - one to the Nerf and Mynock Bar on Coruscant to get back to serving drinks, the other to his sinister master's sinister abode in a sinister part of a sinister planet, to get back to his sinister work. In a sinister manner. Meanwhile, E'etooi still lives, and is returning to his Tatooine trailor park to continue stuffing roadkill... and plotting his next move in the galaxy-spanning celestial chess game...
Yarael: What be wit' de fancy chess metaphor, mon? It just be sounding stuffy, jah know.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Bongo Time: Part 9

The Narrator: Yarael lights up his ghostly lightsabre and charges at the cables holding the golden tape recorder. Dooku moves to keep E'etooi busy in the meantime, but the deranged Jawa doesn't try to stop his spectral opposite. Dooku looks the Dark Chef in the eye, trying to guage his thoughts. Suddenly, he guesses what is happening.
Count Dooku: I say, old chap! Do look out!
Yarael: Look out for what, m-
The Narrator: Yarael smashes violently into the shield protecting the contraption. E'etooi laughs his trademark maniacal laugh.
E'etooi: You cannot stop me! I will emerge victorious! Heeheeheehawhawhaw!
Count Dooku: Will you be quiet, my good fellow? This is outrageously... ridiculously... SILLY!
The Narrator: As Dooku and E'etooi engage in miscellaneous idle banter, Yarael composes himself. He removes a collapsible bongo set from within his robe and sets it up. Then he assembles his BongMaster 3000 from the pieces in various pockets.
E'etooi: Oh, so you could beat me with the force, could you? The power of the Dark Side of Cuisine is far more powerful than- what is he doing?
Yarael: Dis be de end o' jah vile schemes, E'etooi! Take dis, mon!
The Narrator: He begins furiously playing his bongos at impossble speed. The BongMaster 3000 starts to resonate and amplify the vibrations of eveything around it.
E'etooi: What the-?
Dooku: What in Serenno are you doing, old chap?
The Narrator: Above them, the huge speakerphones begin to crackle in protest.
E'etooi: Uh oh... Get me out of here!
The Narrator: Tuppaware Tuppaware Binks somersaults down from the rafters, grabs him and leaps back up towards the roof, blowing a hole in it with boomas on the way.
Tup Tup: Seein' yousa later, kids!
Dooku: Kids? I'll have you know, madam, I am over-
The Narrator: The immense sound system implodes, and the shield flickers and dies. Yarael stops playing his bongos.
Yarael: I thought dat might work, mon. De BongMaster 3000 ain't never failed me yet. Now, let's grab de tape and get out o' here!

Monday, October 17, 2005

Bongo Time: Part 8

The Narrator: Having just escaped from the clutches of Tuppaware Tuppaware Binks, our heroes Yarael and Dooku inevitably begin to wonder about the source of her inexplicable immunity to their force powers...
Yarael: Well... perhaps she be a Toydarian in disguise, mon.
Count Dooku: I do not believe so, my good fellow. It would be rather hard, I conjecture, to hide the wings.
Yarael: Good point. What be able to block de force?
Count Dooku: Eh... well... there's ysalamiri, I suppose.
Yarael: What be day?
Count Dooku: Funny little creatures from Mirkyr, the natural prey of a force-sensitive predator called a vornskr. Due to the force powers attributed to the vornskrs, ysalamiri have evolved the rather spiffing ability to create force-null bubbles around themselves.
Yarael: Dat can't be it, mon. Be letten' me see...
The Narrator: He raises his hand experimentally to move some undescribed objects about the room with the force.
Yarael: I can use my force-power now, so it can't be dat dere be ysalamiri hidden in de area. And she can't have been carrying one wit' her, can she, mon?
Count Dooku: Probably not, I suppose.
Yarael: We be haven' to worry about dis another time den, mon. Come on, we got to get de tape back.
The Narrator: He goes to a door on the other side of the room, and floats through (he's a Jedi spirit, remember?). Dooku follows him in a somewhat more mundane fashion.
Yarael: How big be dis place, mon? It be only a warehou- Wow.
The Narrator: Yarael is staring up at a set of gigantic speakers, connected through a series of flickering fibre-optic cables to the coveted golden microphone and silver tape recorder.
Yarael: Dere dey be, mon! But what be all dis?
E'etooi (emerging from the shadows): Heeheeheeheeheehaw!!! This is the advanced sound system I will use to broadcast the doctored bongo music over all of Quermia!
Yarael: What jah be doin' someting stupid like dat for, mon?
Count Dooku: "Doctored" music?
E'etooi: Yes, Darth Tyrannus, doctored music. Soon I will have completed the subliminal messages to lay over the original sound, and all Quermians who hear it will be forced to obey my every whim! Soon, this planet - so long a stronghold of good, healthy eating, will devour nothing but McDooku's products!
Count Dooku: You are wrong, Darth Chipzandburgaz. I still own McDooku's, and as you well know, it is taking a turn for the spiffing, old chap.
E'etooi: Do you, now? All this will be rectified, in time. But for now, let us sit back and watch my machine finish compiling the music...
Yarael: Jah be a fool, E'etooi! I be goin' ta stop dis now, mon!
The Narrator: Yarael charges for the tape recorder, hoping to unplug it before the recording can be corrupted beyond repair...

Saturday, October 15, 2005

Bongo Time: Part 7

The Narrator: When we last saw them, Yarael Poof and Count Dooku were facing off against Jar Jar Binks's psychotic grandmother, Tuppaware Tuppaware Binks. Each is armed with a lightsabre, while Tup Tup has only a pair of nunchucks. They charge at their adversary, expecting to slice both her and her weapon to ribbons within seconds. They are sadly disappointed - their lightsabres fizzle and die.
Yarael: What be goin' on here, mon? Me lightsabre don't be cuttin' through her nunchucks!
Tup Tup: Yousa tinken mesa stupid? Mesa nunchucks issen made of cortosis! Yousa lightsabres noah worken against themsa!
Count Dooku: Oh. Dearie me.
Yarael: Maybe so, mon, but can jah ignore dis?
The Narrator: Yarael thrusts a palm at Tup Tup to produce a force-push. Again, he is stymied.
Count Dooku: What's going on here, chaps?
Tup Tup: Yousa force powers will noah worken on mesa!
The Narrator: Dooku experimentally spreads his fingers out and points them at his adversary. However, he fails to produce a single spark of force lightning.
Yarael: Uh oh.
The Narrator: Yarael and Dooku look at each other, then at Tup Tup, who spins her nunchucks again in a menacing fashion. They look back at each other, then run away.
Yarael: Dis be bad, mon! Very very bad!
Count Dooku: Yes, yes, old chap, now less talking and more running!

The Narrator: Meanwhile, in the Quermian Health Dept Warehouse...

Quermian Official: I be sorry, Mr E'etooi, mon, but tests have shown dat McDooku's meals contain, on average, 43% cholesterol, 38% sugar and 69% saturated fats - dat be 150%! I did not tink dat be possible, but it be very bad, mon!
E'etooi: Well, I think you're just going to have to live with it.
Quermian Official: I won't be letten dis kind of... of filth onto my homeworld, mon. Get jah stale bantha burgers out of my sight!
E'etooi: So be it...
The Narrator: He leaves the room. Seconds later, a squad of battle droids surrounds the Quermian Official with blasters ready.
E'etooi (V/O): Let's see if we can't be a little more persuasive... Muwhahahaha!

The Narrator: Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Yarael and Dooku come across a stairwell at a four-way intersection somewhere in the warehouse's meandering corridors.
Yarael: We can hide down here, mon! Come on!
The Narrator: Our heroes rush down the stairs and through a doorway, just in time to elude Tup Tup, who glares about for a few seconds at the intersection and then stalks down the wrong corridor.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

Bongo Time: Part 6

The Narrator: Yarael and Count Dooku are soon brought face to face with a sinister Gungan jailor (well, as sinister as any Gungan can be expected to be) - evidently one of Tup Tup's minions. The battle droids escorting them leave the room.
Gungan Jailor: Well, now you under mesa tender care. Getten in der cell, now!
Yarael (waving his hand): Jah don't need to imprison us, mon. Jah can take off our handcuffs and get in de cell jahself.
Gungan Jailor: Mesa noah needen to imprisonen yousa. Mesa can taken off yousa handcuffs and getten in der cell mesaself.
Count Dooku: Well, I must say, subjugating his mind was a little like using a nuclear warhead to split open a crumpet.
Yarael: Well, mon, it worked, didn't it?
The Narrator: The Gungan jailor carries out Yarael's instructions, then promptly falls asleep in the cell. Yarael and Count Dooku leave the room hurry down the hall in search of the precious recording of the Bongo Concerto.
Yarael: So, what could E'etooi be doin' here, mon?
Count Dooku: He said he was trying to infiltrate the Quermian health department... I was here to negotiate with them so I could open a branch of McDooku's on Quermia...
Yarael: Jah won't be openen' jah fatty fast-food stores on my homeworld if I got anything to do about it, mon.
Count Dooku: Oh, McDooku's has grown considerably more appreciative of proper health regulations since our last meeting, old chap. Regardless, that absolute bounder E'etooi - or Darth Chipzandburgaz as he is known to the Sith - must be here because he hasn't given up trying to take over my chain of fast food stores! He wants to take McDooku's for himself, and bring it even further into unreputability than it had previously been accustomed to! The cheek!
Yarael: But why do Jar Jar's granny be here, mon?
Tup Tup: Mesa tinken yousa finden dat mesa master issen on der winning team - and mesa intenden to be as well.
The Narrator: They spin around. Tupaware Tupaware Binks is standing behind them.
Yarael: Jah be a fool if jah tink jah can beat both of us, mon.
Count Dooku: I concur.
Tup Tup (laughing): Yousa hassen noah idea of mesa power. En garde!
The Narrator: She produces a pair of nunchuks and flourishes them at her opponents. Yarael and Dooku look at each other, then ignite their lightsabres...

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

Bongo Time: Part 5

The Narrator: Following a tip from a mysterious stranger (whom Fluke Starbucker believes to be Dustin Hoffman), Yarael Poof and Count Dooku enter the imposing doors of a warehouse belonging to the Quermian Health Department...
Yarael: Oh, put a sock in it, mon!
Count Dooku: I say, this place seems rather empty, wouldn't you agree?
Yarael: Yah, mon. Dis be suspicious...
The Narrator: If I might make a suggestion-
Yarael: Shut up.
Count Dooku: Do be quiet.
The Narrator: But-
Yarael: Not a word, mon!
The Narrator: I just wanted to say that there are a large group of battle droids behind you. *Ahem* Where was I? At last heeding the narrator's timely warning, Yarael spins round and flicks on his lightsabre. Dooku follows suit, with more than a little unnecessary twirling and flourishing. The battle droids open fire, and the two ex-Jedi deflect several shots back at the battalion.
Sinister voice from above: Enough!
The Narrator: A small figure in a rumpled brown cloak drops from the ceiling to land lightly on the floor, revealing itself to be...
Yarael and Count Dooku: Jawajuice's crazy uncle E'etooi?
E'etooi: Yes, I'm back, and hungry for revenge! You two ruined me, and since I happened to be on Quermia trying to infiltrate their dastardly health department, I thought I might as well take a slice of vengeful pie... Sieze them!
The Narrator: He appears to address the command to a piece of stuffed roadkill slung over his shoulder.
Another sinister voice from above: Uh... mesa doin thassen for yousa, master.
The Narrator: A frog-like humanoid drops from above to land gracefully beside the deranged Jawa.
Yarael: Who de heck be jah, mon?
Tup Tup: Mesa Jar Jar Binks's grandmother, Tupaware Tupaware Binks!
Yarael: Never heard o' jah.
The Narrator: Struggling to keep her rage under control, Tup Tup approaches our heroes and binds them both in woolly pink straight-jumpers.
E'etooi: Take them away!

Monday, October 10, 2005

Bongo Time: Part 4

The Narrator: Late that night, at Yarael's rented apartment on Quermia, he and Count Dooku discuss how to track down the nefarious theif...
Count Dooku: But, old chap, the counterpoint of the third bongo's beat simply must harmonize with that of the second, eh what?
Yarael: No, mon, it don't be dat important as long as de first and second harmonize.
The Narrator: *Ahem* Yes, they are discussing how to track down the nefarious theif... When suddenly, the phone rings! Yarael springs into action and picks up the phone.
Yarael: Who be dis, mon?
Voice on the phone: Mesa- *Ahem* I am a... friend to yousa- er... you. I have information about the theft of the bongo concerto tape that might interest you... come to the corner of Jammin' Lane and Rum Avenue at midnight... Don't be late...
The Narrator: *Gasp* A mysterious phone call, requesting a meeting with our plucky heroes!
Yarael: Jah be callin' me plucky? I be cool, mon.
Count Dooku: And I am civilized.
Yarael: Well, I suppose we got to go, mon. It be close to midnight.

***Twenty-five minutes later, at the corner of Jammin' Lane and Rum Avenue***

The Narrator: Approaching the corner, Yarael and Dooku look around suspiciously.
Yarael: I be seein' nobody, mon.
Count Dooku: Indeed... wait - there!
The Narrator: He points at a shadowy figure hiding behind a lamp post.
Count Dooku: You there - I say, do show yourself, old chap.
Shadowy Figure: So, yousa - damn - you have come, then?
Yarael: Yah, mon, now we want to hear jah information.
Shadowy Figure: Very well. The one who stole your recording devices, and the tape with them, is hiding in the warehouse behind the Quermian Health Department office. Go there, and yousa- you will find what you seek.
Yarael: But who be jah, mon? Who be de theif?
The Narrator: The shadowy figure dashes around the corner. Count Dooku gives chase, but fails to catch up. So now, the two reighteous servants of justice are left with only one lead - the warehouse named by their shadowy informer...

Saturday, October 08, 2005

Bongo Time: Part 3

Hey, mon. Dis be a terrible tragedy - de tapes dat de bongo music be recorded on be de greatest o' treasures in Quermia. De bongo concerts be sacred rituals - to try and re-record one would be blasphemy o' de highest order. De only choice be to track down de theif and snatch de tapes back. De good news be, I got help. From an... unexpected direction...

This is simply outrageous, chaps. I was taking a refreshing soujourn on Quermia, and happened to pass by the grand hall where I heard the splendid sound of those bongos. However, I was late for tea and crumpets with someone from the Quermian health department, so I decided I would listen to the whole proceeding when the recording was released. Imagine, if you will, my dismay when I was informed that the only recording had been misappropriated by a villianous rapscallion of malificent intent!

He means a really nasty theif, mon.

Quite. So it is that Yarael and I have put aside our cullinary differences to join in the absolutely spiffing cause of musical reighteousness, eh what!

I never thought I'd see de day when I'd be worken wit' Count Dooku, but as retired rock musicians go, he be pretty appreciative o' de music o' de bongos, so what de heck.

Thursday, October 06, 2005

Bongo Time: Part 2

The Narrator: After taking a shower and having his neck massaged at a nearby hotel, the deceased Jedi Master Yarael Poof enters the huge, circular hall where the Annual Bongo Concerto of Quermia is traditionally held. It is built like a stadium, the top rows of seats belonging to the spectators, the lower rows seating the bongo players, and in the center is the brilliant golden microphone and silver tape recorder that will keep the glorious music for all time...
Yarael: Hey, be quiet! Jah be throwen off my groove, mon!
The Narrator: Sorry.
Yarael: Dis be de most important day of my (after)life so far...
The Narrator *now whispering so that Yarael can't hear him*: Yarael floats across the stadium floor and rises up the the third row, which is already filling quickly, where there is a cushy seat with his name embroidered in gold - well, there has to be some way of distinguishing one player's seat from another! Almost trembling with anticipation, Yarael relaxes into the chair and places his expansive bongo set on his knees. The great hall is almost full, and the Quermian MC enters the hall.
Quermian MC: *Ahem* Roll call, mon!

*Twenty minutes later*

Quermian MC *stepping up to the tape recorder and switching it on*: Gentlemen, start jah bongos!
The Narrator: The assembled Quermians start playing their bongos. The rythmic percussion flows down the concentric rings of seats in waves of pure sonic reighteousness, and-
Yarael: Oh, shut up, mon!
The Narrator *sighing*: Yes, Master Yarael...
Yarael *without breaking his rhythm*: Can jah belive dis guy? I met him on de spaceliner, and he won't leave me alone!

*Three hours later*

The Narrator: The playing has gone on for hours, but the stalwart Quermians still bang their drums flawlessly. The Quermian MC steps back into the center.
Quermian MC *raising his arms to signal the end of the concert, then turning off the recorder: Well done to all of jah! Dat be a good one!
The Narrator: Suddenly...
Yarael: Do dere be someting jah should have mentioned earlier, mon?
Deranged voice from above: Heehahahahaha!
The Narrator: The lights go out, and the hall is engulfed in darkness. A few seconds later, the Quermian MC is lying, unconscious, on the floor, and... *gasp*!
Yarael: De tape recorder has been stolen, mon!
The Narrator: That's my line! Yes, the tape recorder, containing the only recording in the universe of the precious sound of the bongos has been stolen by some evil wrongdoer with a buff color like this! Who will get it back? This looks like a job for-
Yarael: De Quermian police force, mon.
The Narrator: Well, I was going to say Yarael Poof, but he clearly doesn't want to. I suppose some other Jedi will do, like, say, Obi-Wan K-
Yarael Poof: Alright, alright, I'll do it. Jah don't have to threaten to bring Obi here, mon.

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Bongo Time: Part 1

I be writen dis on de cruiser to Quermia. It be a great place, mon, wit' lots o' jungles. Me bongos be stowed safely in me bag.
I got de main percussion bongo, de light percussion bongo, de rapid tapping bongo, de bongo dat goes "twang", de echoing bongo, and dis here bongo with a squeaky plush toy inside. It don't do much, but if jah hit it just right it can make a pretty big squeaking noise.

And I also got me most prized possession, mon. De BongMaster 3000 - a carefully constructed bongo dat harmonizes, amplifies, reverberates and pasteurises any sound dat bounces of it, mon. It be de most valuable model o' bongo ever constructed. Only twenty-six and a half were ever made... And I got one o' dem! But enough o' dat, mon.

De other great ting about Quermia be dat we ain't never had no nasty fast food chains like McDooku's on our world. It be all clean and fat-free here. Well, polyunsaturated fat, anyway. We be one o' de healthiest planets in dis here galaxy, mon. It be a great tourist site - jah got to come visit, mon.

Monday, October 03, 2005

Dis be de happiest moment of my life

I been selected to play in de 2497th Quermian Annual Bongo Concerto! Dis be one o' de most prestigious honours a Quermian can be given, mon. Bongos be an important part o' our culture, and dis be de jewel in Quermia's cultural crown. De sound o' four hundred bongos playing at once be de ninth wonder o' de galaxy (de eighth, o' course, be Yoda's grammar). Dis also be de first time a dead Quermian been chosen to play, mon, which be a great honour in itself.

I got to pack my bongos and go home to Quermia, mon. De concerto be in three days time. I be leaven Obi behind Brett's bar while I be gone, mon - he loves his drink, so he be perfect for de job... right?