Monday, November 28, 2005


Okay, mon. I be formulaten a plan as I type dis. Dere be seven o' Brett's pals in dis prison, all doin time for smuggling spice and tings, jah know, de stuff dat makes life on Coruscant interesting. I be gonna get some heavy-duty laser bolt-cutters into dem hidden inside de food. I got a contact on de inside, mon - Jar Jar Binks spent some time running a bunch o' potato companies a while back, and he can get de tools hidden in de prison's potato supply. Den, at de scheduled time, Brett's pals can all break out o' de cells. I'll use me lightsabre to be cutting a hole in de exterior wall, mon. Den, I'll use me mind tricks to befuddle de guards. Mind tricks don't work on de guard dogs, but I know someting dat does - I'm gonna borrow Master Yoda's pet bantha, Bob. Dogs got extra-sensitive noses, so all I got ta do is send Bob in, say "pickles", and... heh heh heh...

Once de guards be confused and de dogs all be unconscious, it be a simple matter for me to escort de targets out o' de prison without any o' de other prisoners escaping.

Note to self: Hide noseplugs for Brett's pals in de potatoes as well.

Saturday, November 26, 2005

Too Easy, Mon

I be out. All it took were a few Mind Tricks, and those be me speciality, mon. I just had to wave me hand at de guards and say "Hakuna matata, mon" and dey let me out. Jah know, I kinda have to worry about de security o' dese prisons, though. Dere be all kinds o' heinous criminals in dere - arsonists, counterfitters, separatists, a couple o' Brett's chums. Now, I realise I be a jedi, mon, but if I can get out o' dere so easily, de prisoners could go AWOL at any moment. As a jedi, I feel I got ta try and sort dis out somehow. We *do* keep de peace, jah know. It's sort of our job. Master Yoda spends most o' his time giving people Force-Wedgies, Obi drinks too much beer to be any use for anyting, Mace just stares at his reflection, de narcissistic git, and none o' dem got any taste in music! Dey be deaf to de bongos, mon. So I got ta do my duty and fix up dis prison.

O' course, Brett don't like de idea much. A lot o' his smuggling partners- er... I mean... law-abiding citizens who got involved in terrible misunderstandings... be stuck in dere. So, here be de plan. I'll organize a prison break for all o' Brett's buddies, to keep him happy. Den, once I got dem out, I be gonna devote all me spare time to stopping de really dangerous criminals from escapin' dat place.

Sure, it seems like a strange plan. But hey, I got no bones, four arms, noses in me hands and a neck like a giraffe. Wit' all dat, a strange plan be nothing out o' de ordinary.

Sunday, November 20, 2005


Okay, mon. I suppose I could just turn ethereal and stroll right through de walls, den catch a bus and be halfway to Korriban before anyone even notices I be gone, but where be de challenge in dat, mon? Now, let me see... I don't got me lightsabre, so cutting through de bars be out o' de question. Dere be a guard wit' de keys outside de cell, asleep (aren't dey always, mon?). So, I just be usen' de Force to grab de keys...
Come on, mon! Dat be no fair! Dere be some kinda force feedback ting around de cell, so I can't grab de keys dat way without being zapped. Okay, so, Plan B.

I can be sticken me head through de bars...
Ow, why do me head got to be so big and bulbous? Eeerrrrk... dere, I done it.
Den usen' me long prehensile neck to get right next to de guard's ear...
Shouten "BOO!" to scare 'im off... BOO!
Heh heh, he looks like he just seen a ghost, mon. Well, technically, he has, I suppose. Just drop de keys and run, mon. Dat's it.
Now I just got to grab de keys in my teeth...
An' den ush dem to unlock m' schell.
I be free, now, mon! Now I got ta get out o' de prison. Shouldn't be hard, dese Coruscant State Prisons be fallen' apart most o' de time.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

De Slammer, Mon

I be getten' one phone call, so I be usen it to dictate dis blog entry to one o' de customers at de Nerf and Mynock. What? I got ta keep jah all updated! To tink I'd be maken me fiftieth post from in jail...

I should explain how I got here, yah?
Well, Brett took his life-size slot machine voodoo doll down to a casino. I came too, 'cause I wanted to watch. Tryen' ta use voodoo to fiddle wit' gambling odds like dis be a very wierd idea, but I be interested to see how it would work out. De problem be, it did work fairly well. Not well enough for Brett to be maken himself a millionaire overnight, but fairly well. O' course, people started staring at de replica o' a slot machine he be dragging around. De casino bosses got suspicious, and a few guards came down to interrogate us.

"Can we see your voodoo licence?" dey asked. Den, Brett reached into my coat pocket and took out MY voodoo licence! De guards took one look at de picture o' a Quermian face on de front, looked at Brett, looked at me, looked at Brett again, and den said,
"Everything seems to be in order."
Den Brett ran as fast as he could in de other direction. O' course, den I be stuck dere wit' no voodoo licence. So now I be stuck here in jail, still wit' no voodoo licence. How I be gonna get out o' here?

Saturday, November 12, 2005

Jus' Crazy, Mon

Last night, Brett did barely be in de bar at all, mon. Dat be odd, 'cause usually he be drinkin' and playin' cards and chattin' up de girls. But last night, he be up in his rooms above de bar de whole time. Even when de illegal casino opene- eh... even when de bar closed, he didn't come to help... uh... clean up. Normally, he does, jah see. Help clean up. Noting illegal about dat, mon.

Anyway, dis mornin' I went upstairs to see what he be up to, mon. I found him puttin' de finishin' touches on a life-size model o' a slot machine. De back was open, so jah could see all de switches and buttons and tings inside. It must'a taken him all night to make it, mon. I asked him what it be for.

He say he be gonna use voodoo ta rig de slots at a local casino (dis one be prefectly legal, not like our- eh... I mean... not like de one down de road). It be an insane, plan, mon. Utterly bizarre. De spirits don't usually interfere wit' stuff like dis, mon. It would be easier to put some good juju on jahself for luck. Dis plan be completly out o' whack, mon. Brett be off his rocker.

Why didn'a I tink o' dis, mon?

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

For Fun and Profit... but mostly fun

I got Brett ta make a voodoo doll today, mon. I should have realized when he gave it such a long neck... And den he asked for a bit o' me shirt... He laughed like crazy. I didn't see what be so funny.

He is so going ta get it, mon!

See, what he don't know be dat voodoo dolls can be used for more dan simple pain (although dat be a lot o' fun if jah target deserves it). I got a voodoo doll o' Brett here dat be for just such an emergency. Never let it be said dat I ain't prepared, mon. He be in de bar right now, chatten up some Twi'Lek. She don't look ta be enjoyen it much, so I'll just give de legs on dis doll a jerk... And he jumps up on de table!

Can can, can jah do de can can... Dance, Brett, dance! De look on his face be priceless, mon.

Maybe a spirited Irish jig... Or a waltz? Or even a tapdance? Or all three at once? Heeheeheeheehaha!

He'll tink twice before he pulls a trick like dat again, I can tell jah dat, mon.

Sunday, November 06, 2005

Voodoo 101

The Narrator: It is early afternoon at the Nerf and Mynock in downtown Coruscant. The nerf and mynock in question died of malnutrition (oh, alright, Brett forgot to feed them) several years ago, however they still live on in spirit. But not quite so vividly as Yarael Poof's spirit, which is even now beginning his boss's education in the noble Quermian art of voodoo...
Yarael: Hey! Would jah shut up, mon! *To Brett* I met dis guy on me trip to Quermia, and I ain't been able ta get rid o' 'im since, mon.
The Narrator: But I'm supposed to stick with you! I'm The Narrator, it's my job!
Yarael: Listen Mister Narrator, mon, I got along fine before I met jah!
The Narrator: Well, that was before you started having epic adventures and saving planets from the tyranny of evil fast-food chains! Right now, you should be helping Jar Jar Binks to fight *your* archnemesis!
Yarael: I be busy, mon. Maybe later.
Brett: Hey, guys, can we just get on with the voodoo?
Yarael: Yah, mon. Now, first jah got ta learn to feel de spirits. Close jah eyes...
The Narrator: Brett follows his instructions. Yarael hurries back into the Nerf and Mynock to grab some rum.
Brett: I don't feel any different!
Yarael (shouting from inside): Just keep concentraten', mon!
The Narrator: Yarael starts gulping down rum.
Brett: Shouldn't I do something else other than close my eyes and concentrate?
Yarael: Hakuna matata, mon. Trust me, I got... uh... thousands o' years o' experience!
Brett: You aren't *that* old, Yarael! There are people at the bar who knew you when you were alive!
The Narrator: Yarael mutters something about time flowing differently in the ether, then trails off and gets back to drinking. Soon, he finishes his third bottle of rum, and, satisfied, goes back to join Brett.
Yarael: Do jah feel de spirits around jah yet, mon?
Brett: No... no, not yet...
The Narrator: Suddenly, Yarael's ethereal stomach trembles.
Yarael: Uh-oh...
The Narrator: After trying to hold it in for a few seconds, Yarael unleashes a huge burp that shatters windows in nearby buildings.
Brett: Woah! Yeah, I feel the spirits now. Very strong ones too. What have you been drinking?

Thursday, November 03, 2005

An Odd Request

Okay, I be cuttin' to de chase, mon. Me boss be wantin' me to teach him voodoo.

Brett be tinken he could really use it. But jah know, voodoo be more dan sticken pins into dolls and watchen jah arch-nemesis squirm in pain... Although, dat do be de most fun part. Voodoo be a mindset, mon. Lots o' people would agree wit' me and say dat de mindset be "crazy". I prefer de term "differently sane". Incidentally, I don't be a "dead force-ghost", I be a "metabolically challenged individual sustained by a quasi-religious energy field". Anyway, mon, voodoo be a lot like de force in many ways. And Brett be about as force-sensitive as a peanut (I be generalizing, o' course - dat peanut in de bowl on de counter looks like it could pull off a mind trick).

Voodoo, much as I be haten' to admit it, be a lot like de shamanistic stuff what dat Gungan, Jar Jar, be getten' up to in his spare time. If jah not be force-sensitive, it takes either dedication or a lot o' skill wit' cooking ta pull it off. Just as Brett don't be force-sensitive, de last time he stuck wit' someting for more dan five minutes was when he won de Nerf and Mynock eight years ago in a Sabacc game, and de last time he tried ta cook (he was maken' *toast*, mon), he wiped out an entire species on Ithor. Don't be asken'.

So, effectively, what I be sayen is dat dere be no hope for him learnen' anyting like voodoo. But I be gonna try anyway! What? I can never resist a challenge, mon.