Giraffe + Jedi =...

Psychoanalysis: Part 6

2005-12-31T04:35:00.000-08:00

I floated through de wall inta Palpatine's office, at 11:55 p.m., December 31 in de year 2005999999. I be invisible, and de old coot be at his desk scrawling his signature on a bunch o' forms. I readied me force-explosion power and glanced about de room for targets. Den...
Palpatine: I know you're there, Jedi.
Yarael: Wha- No jah don't, mon! I figured dere be some other Jedi in de room what I didn't know about. But dat theory do be kinda fishy...
Palpatine: *sighs* Yes, I do. Your connection to the ether will not hide you from me, Poof.
Yarael: But... jah be no Jedi, mon! Jah be just a politi-
Palpatine: *raises eybrow* Just a policitian? Den I got de shock o' me afterlife - literally. Palps pointed his fingers at me and let fly wit' a burst o' Force Lightning!
Palpatine: I'm sorry, did I startle you?
Yarael: Force lightnin' be a darkside power! One o' de strongest ones! Dat kind o' trick takes years o' built up hate an' anger ta master... Jah be a... a...
Palpatine: A Sith Lord?
Yarael: A Sith Lord? Well, I was gonna say jah be an overburdened postal worker, but- Wait. A Sith Lord? Oh, I be in trouble now, don't I?
Palpatine: *stands up and walks around his desk* Yes, you are. I can't let you leave now. You know what I am; there are only two ways out for you. One is as my apprentice. The other... He lit up his fingers wit' force lightning.
Yarael: Oh... I had ta take him by surprise. I tink he'd forgotten I can float through walls, mon.
Palpatine: Make your choice. I had an excellent candidate for my next apprentice picked out already - young Skywalker will make a fine Sith - but corrupting a force-ghost would be a remarkable achievement... once any force user reaches that stage of attainment, they are normally committed quite permanently to their own side of the force, whether Light or Dark. You would go down in the Sith Archives as the only ethereal Jedi ever to switch sides. Or I could obliterate your essence and scatter it so far throughout the ether that it would take you a billion years to come back to this plane. Either way is fine, really. Just hurry up about choosing; I have an appointment with my tailor. My newest pair of banana-yellow speedoes is riding up in my crotch a bit, and-
Yarael: Whoa! TOO much information, mon! I waved me arms around in a circle and used de force ta blow up anyting in de room dat not be insured. Den, under de smoke, I flew out de window and hurried back in de direction o' Steve's office.

Steve the Spider: So, how'd it go, bud?
Yarael: Jah don't want ta know. Do jah have a phone I can use, mon?
Steve the Spider: Sure, right over there. I ran over to de phone, switched on de little TV screen next ta it, and dialled de Jedi Temple. Yoda's face appeared.
Master Yoda: Yarael Poof? The middle of the night it is! Dreaming about Dolly I was. Important, this had better be.
Yarael: Oh, if jah only knew, mon! Chancellor Palpatine be a Sith Lord! I was just in his office, mon, and he threw force lightning at me! And worse, he said he be gonna make Ani his apprentice! Dis be bad juju, mon, I know it be.
Master Yoda: A Sith he is? Whoa. See through you I can-
Yarael: Everyone can see through me, mon.
Master Yoda: Interrupt me do not. See through you I can, see the future I can, see which card in the deck is the Ace of Clubs I can, see Dolly Parton I can if squint really hard I do, but see this coming I did not! Do something I must. Send all the Jedi Masters to the Senate this morning will I. And lead them myself, I will. Stopped, this treachery must be.
Yarael: Tank de spirits... Okay, bye, mon.
Steve the Spider: Whoa. I take it your mission didn't go as you expected? Still, you've exposed Palpatine as a Sith Lord. If that's not revenge, I don't know what is.
Yarael: Yah... jah be right, mon. Me business in dis world be... over...
Steve the Spider: So, I suppose I can call this therapy session a great success. He turns away from me ta look at de view. I start ta fade away into de ether. Going...
Going...
Going...
POOF!
Steve the Spider: And now to discuss the unpleasant matter of paym- *he turns around, and slaps his forehead* Bugger.

Standing at a computer terminal, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine swaps some wires around, adjusts a dial, polishes the miniature T.V. screen, and takes off the lifelike Yoda puppet he is wearing on his left hand. He chuckles to himself.
Palpatine: "Dreaming about Dolly I was!" Hahaha... All too easy.

The End

Psychoanalysis: Part 5

2005-12-26T22:00:00.000-08:00

Suddenly, I be back in Steve de Spider's padded cell. I knew it still be de dream sequence, though, because I be one foot tall.
Steve de Spider: So, what have we learned?
Yarael: I don'na have ta hate de green riddle monkey, because it don't be his fault I be dead. I don'na need revenge on Jango Fett and Zam Wessel 'cause dey be dead already. I don'na need ta hunt down de Jedi Temple's gas station attendant because...well... I should'a been checken me starfighter's oil tank more often.
Steve de Spider: But you're still here, aren'tcha? There's probably one more thing we need ta find, I reckon. And you just found it. Look more carefully at the last bit.
Yarael: Me oil tank... o' course! Me mechanic should'a found dat, mon!
Steve de Spider: Do you remember who that mechanic was? Think, buddy.
Yarael: A toydarian... I tink 'is name be Obaja.
Steve de Spider: Which, by a great and astounding coincidence, is one of the aliases of the criminally incompetant Coruscant mechanic, Bojaa.
Yarael: I know dat name! I worked for 'im for a while after I died!
Steve de Spider: Exactly. You tipped the cops off about one of his more... insanely psychotic screwups, didn'tcha?
Yarael: I did, yah.
Steve de Spider: There's your revenge.
Yarael: Hey, mon! Dat be no fair! I died, he got left off wit' a warning!
Steve de Spider: Yes, and no. He got let off with a warning, yeah, but that meant that he *didn't* get let off after his next screwup. I think that was blowing up Jar Jar's air-con. Due to the massive radiation damage to the lower city in that suberb, he was sent to prison for twelve years.
Yarael: Ah, good enough.
I start shrinkin again... and stop at half a foot.
Steve de Spider: What is this, Zeno's paradox? How many "last resentments" are we going ta go through?
Yarael: Just de one, I tink.
Steve de Spider: Go on.
Yarael: Do jah remember me duel wit Jar Jar? Dat never got finished.
Steve de Spider: Well, I can't just bring him here to finish the-
Yarael: No, no. I want revenge on de dude who got de duel stopped. Chancellor Palpatine.
Steve de Spider: Eh? How-
Yarael: Long story short, he gave Jar Jar a bottle o' fake potion and Jawajuice had ta call de duel off due ta outside interference.
Steve de Spider: So, I suppose you going up to him invisibly and shouting Boo! is completely out of the question, then?
Yarael: Yah, mon. He needs someting special. Jah know, next year be de year 2006000000. A lot o' people be worried about dem six zeroes on de end, mon, cause dey tink dat de world be gonna end. De same bunch o' lunatics show up every time dere be a lot o' zeroes on de end o' de year. Perhaps if I can trick him inta tinken de world really *is* ending...

Psychoanalysis: Part 4

2005-12-23T04:03:00.000-08:00

Zam Wessel: One, two, three, HEAVE!
Yarael Poof: Hnrg!
Jango Fett: Hrrg!
Me memory o' everyting up ta dis bit was hazy, mon. But I could see dis part as clear as de nose on me- wait. Dere don't be no nose on me face. Well, it be a figure o' speech, jah know? Me and Jango be tryen ta move de box wit' dis weapon thingy in it. Zam was doin someting she called moral support. It did'na be worken, mon.
Yarael: Dis be hopeless! We can'na move dis ting!
Zam: Oh, come on! Think happy thoughts, and you can do it!
Jango: It's no use, Zam. Yarael, can you move it with the force?
Yarael: Hey, I know Yoda got dat whole "size matters not" ting going, but none o' de other Jedi believe a word o' it, mon. It be too damn heavy.
Zam: Well can't you try? You'll never do anything if you don't try!
Yarael: Fine, mon.
I waved all four o' me arms at it. I can remember focusin' me mind for dis. It was de last really big use o' de force I did before I died, mon. And it worked. De big box moved.
Jango: Impressive.
Zam: Whoohoo! You did it! Good work!
Yarael: Let's get dis ting out o' here, mon.
We were celebraten', mon, but we did'na know what did be comin' next. As we were headen' back to de ship, we were ambushed. De bandits got de box back, and decided ta use de weapon while dey still could. So dere did be only de one option left: fight our way to de self-destruct mechanism and blow de whole ship ta kingdom come.
Zam: Hmm... this big red button with "Self Destruct Sequence" printed on it looks like a likely choice.
Jango: You don't say.
Yarael: Well, press it and let's be getten' out o' here, mon!
Zam pressed de button and we ran back ta our starfighters. But dere did be a problem. My fighter was out o' gas. And I'd just had it filled up at de temple dat morning, mon! Zam and Jango got out, I did'na, mon. De spaceship went kablammo, and-
Steve the Spider: Hold it, hold it. What's this flashback supposed to be showing us? I don't get it.
Yarael: I do, mon. De gas station attendant at de Jedi Temple. I did'na catch his name, mon. To dis day, I be convinced he swindled me, did'na give me de gas for me fighter. Because o' dat, I died.
Steve the Spider: So that oil leak there didn't have anything to do with it?
Yarael: What?
Steve the Spider: Right there, below the left engine. See? Left unchecked, that could run your whole tank dry in a matter of hours.
Yarael: ...oh.
I shrank down ta only a foot tall. If Steve be right, I be gonna leave for de ether pretty soon, mon.

Psychoanalysis: Part 3

2005-12-18T21:20:00.000-08:00

I was flyin through de filthy, polluted smog o' Coruscant's lower-middle atmosphere. I was followin' a Jedi Starfighter, piloted by a Quermian. Me. Dis be a dream sequence, mon, so I be watching past events unfold. I be talken on de commlink ta someone else, and I zoomed in ta listen properly.
Yarael: Dis be Jedi Master Yarael Poof, mon. How jah be doin?
Jango Fett: Skip the pleasantries, Poof.
Zam Wessel: Well, we're not going to get anywhere with an attitude like that, are we? I think someone needs a nice cup of hot cocoa!
Jango: Er... please, no. Hello, Yarael, it's nice to meet you.
Zam: That's better.
Deir starfighters drew up next ta mine, and Zam waved at me, flashing a huge grin and brandishing a big smiley-face ribbon. Jango did be mercifully unadorned.
Jango Fett: Right, let's get down to business. The bandits we're after have acquired... through us... a powerful weapon that could destroy Coruscant if it is used.
Zam: Those mean old bandits didn't tell us about that when we stole it for them. Now they won't give it back. She pouted.
Yarael: I heard all dat from Yoda, mon. What jah plan ta do about it?
Jango: We have maps of their ship with us. We recorded everything we could while we were there.
Zam: Conscientious bounty hunters at all times, that's us!
Jango: So, we have a fair idea of where this artifact is probably being stored. Our plan is for us to disable as many guards as we can, while you sneak in there and steal it.
Yarael: How big do it be, mon?
Jango: How big?
Yarael: I need ta know if I can carry it.
Jango: Oh. Um.
Zam: I hate to go saying 'I told you so' Jango, but I told you so! Never mind, everybody makes mistakes.
Jango: Come to think of it, this item needs a fairly powerful hovertrolley. Without one, we'll probably all need to be carrying it.
Steve the Spider: Freeze.
De scene froze in place, de starfighters hanging in de air, motionless.
Steve the Spider: So, whaddaya think?
Yarael: Jango and Zam... dat stupid plan o' deirs almost got me killed, mon.
Steve the Spider: Almost?
Yarael: We'll get to dat later, I tink. Won't we, mon? I never really forgave dem, jah know.
Steve the Spider: So maybe you wanted ta get back at them, don't ya think? But they're both dead now, aren't they? Jango died in the battle on Geonosis, killed by Mace Windu. And before that, he killed Zam Wessel himself.
Yarael: Yah... I remember dat, mon. It be hard ta imagine dat bimbo goin' after Senator Amidala. But dey both be dead. Dey paid de price for deir shoddy plans, didn't dey? Dey would'a been better off wit' me, I tink. I would'na killed dem, mon.
Den I shrunk, suddenly, down ta two feet tall.
Steve the Spider: And there goes another blob of resentment. There must be only one or two more to go. Come on, Yarael.
Yarael: Righto, mon.

Psychoanalysis: Part 2

2005-12-12T23:41:00.000-08:00

Wit' me eyes closed, I drifted into de dream world. Slowly, images took shape in the greyish smoke all around me. I was floaten in de council chamber. I was also standen in de middle o' de council chamber. Dis be de memory o' my briefing before me final mission, mon.
Yoda: Go you must to recover this artifact. Grave danger we are all in if allowed to keep it these bandits are. Capable of destroying Coruscant with its power, this item is. If get it back you cannot, delay the attack you must, until get back from Naboo, Jar Jar does. If going to die are we, at least take him with us we can!
Yarael: Why do I got ta go, mon? Dis really gonna be messen' wit' de younglings' bongo practise. Where I be gonna find a substitute teacher?
Mace: Look, man, bongos aren't important. While you're away, I'll fill in for your classes and teach the younglings to be pretty!
Yarael: Damn. Now dey gonna be bald and shiny when I be comen' back.
Yoda: Listen to me you must, mmm? Important this is! Attention I crave!
Yarael: What it be now, mon?
Yoda: The bounty hunters who stole this artifact and gave this to the bandits in the first place, Jango Fett and Zam Wessel are. However, know they did not that used to destroy the planet it could be. Since know they now do, agreed to help us retrieve it they have.
Ki-Adi-Mundi: Very sporting of them, wouldn't you agree?
Yarael: So, I got ta find dese bounty hunters and, wit' dere help, steal back dis wierd bad-juju ting so dat de bandits can'na destroy Coruscant wit' it? All in a day's work, mon. In fact, it be so easy dat jah could probably send someone else. Like Obi. I waved me hand in Yoda's direction at dis bit, mon. Jah will send Obi-Wan on dis mission, mon.
Yoda: Send Kenobi on this mission I wi- Wait! Use mind-tricks on me, you must not! Cheating it is! Going are you, and final this is!
Yarael: Hmph. Fine.
Everyone left de council chambers. Den, Steve de Spider appeared.
Steve the Spider: So, whaddaya think of that? Now that you've seen this flashback, do you think maybe you know what your unfinished business is?
Dream-Yarael: Yoda... dat little green riddle monkey. He could have sent any jedi, mon, but he insisted on choosing me.
Steve the Spider: So d'ya think you stayed behind to get revenge on Yoda?
Dream-Yarael: Maybe...
Steve the Spider: But Yoda didn't know you were going to die. He sent ya on the mission, yeah, but it's not really his *fault*, is it? Besides, he's a good customer, man.
Dream-Yarael: Jah be right. And I kept sayen' how easy de mission was gonna be... Jah can't really blame him for not tinking I was gonna die dere.
Den, suddenly, I got smaller. Wit' me enormous neck, I be almost seven feet tall normally. Now I be only five feet tall all of a sudden.
Dream-Yarael: What in de name o' voodoo just happened?
Steve the Spider: It's symbolic. This is a dream sequence, you know? So the symbolism runs rampant. When I met my old buddy Yoda in a dream sequence on Tatooine, I got smaller and smaller as he got less and less afraid of me.
Dream-Yarael: So... I be getten' less afraid o' meself?
Steve the Spider (rolling all eight of his eyes): No. One of the reasons you had for staying behind as a force-ghost doesn't exist anymore, and part of your presence in the physical world disappeared with it, you know what I'm saying?
Dream-Yarael: Eh... no.
Steve the Spider: Well, outside this flashback, you'll still be the same size. But here, you'll keep getting smaller as we find and eliminate your reasons to stay behind. Eventually, you'll shrink down to the size of an atom and just pop into the ether, right? You've gotta still have reasons to be here, so let's go and find them, buddy!

Psychoanalysis: Part 1

2005-12-11T00:21:00.000-08:00

"Okay," said Steve de Spider. "I wantcha to think about why you're here."
"Eh... because jah gang o' hired thugs knocked me out and-"
"No, not *here*, here, I mean here, like, as opposed to *there*, you know what I'm saying?"
"No."
"The *ether*! Why d'ya think you haven't passed on, why are ya a force ghost? You're dead, buddy, you've ceased to be, you're an ex-Quermian!"
"Well, dey don't got no bongos in de ether, mon, as far as I know. Not rum either."
"That can't be all. You must have some kind of reason to stay, not just a reason not to go."
"I don't be followin' jah, mon."
"Unfinished business, Yarael, buddy. Unfinished business. That's what all youse force-ghosts have. Qui stuck around ta watch the show - well, as far as the end of Episode III, anyway - and maybe help out a bit to stop the dark side from getting the upper hand, you know? But you, you were never interested in the bigger issues. So why'd ya stay?"
"Episode III?"
"Uh... never mind. Just fuhgedaboudit. No, really, it's a very boring story."
"Yah, yah, whatever, mon." Steve de Spider wiped his forehead with his third left arm.
"Phew, that was close, almost caused a space-time anomaly... Uh, anyway, Yarael, buddy, I think your unfinished business has something to do with your final mission. It didn't go well, did it? Who was with you then? Zam Wessel and Jango Fett, huh? I'm right, aren't I? Tell me I'm right."
"How'd jah know dat, mon?"
"Listen, Yarael old buddy old pal, I know every little thing aboutcha. I used ta live in the three rings of fear, man. I was omniscient. But enough about me, hey? I want you to think back to your last mission. Just close your eyes, meditate, and remember."
"Okay, mon..." I sat down, shut me eyes, and started ta remember...

My Analyst Told Me, Mon

2005-12-04T20:56:00.000-08:00

De door of de padded cell opened slowly. And in walked a spider. Yah, one o' dem tings wit' eight legs, mon. Except dat dis one be five foot six. It held out its hand for me ta shake.
"The name's Steve, buddy, Steve the Spider, licensed therapist. How are ya?"
I ran over de people who I might have told about me jailbreak plan, mon. Brett, Jar Jar, Yoda- wait. Yoda. He was getten councilling for Bob de Bantha. He told Bob's therapist?

"So what jah want wit' me, mon? Did jah arrange for all de prison guards ta be Toydarian, so I could'na use me force-powers on dem?"
"Yeah, I admit it, that was me. Ya see, Yoda told me 'bout you, and I'm writing a thesis on the psychology of Force-Ghosts. What with there not being many Force-Ghosts ta go around..."
"So jah be gonna study me, do dat be it?"
"Nah, not exactly. I wanna cure you."
"Eh?"
"Cure you of being a force-ghost, ya know what I'm saying? Send you on to the ether, and all that jazz. So how's that sound?"
"I be a force-ghost because I want ta be here, mon. I be gonna leave now." I went ta float though de wall.
"Are ya sure about that, buddy? You know, your last mission didn't go well, did it? Yeah, I've read your file. Do you think you chose ta be a force-ghost?" I stopped.
"I just... floated back ta Coruscant. I did'na tink about it, mon. It just seemed like de only choice."
"Hmm. Look, just stay a while and here me out, Yarael, old buddy old pal. It can't hurt, ya know what I'm talkin' about?"

Ah... what de heck?

Freedom... not for me, though

2005-12-01T01:49:00.000-08:00

Everyting went according to plan, mon... up to de point where we start executing de plan. Me lightsabre's battery fizzled while I be cuttin' through de wall. I been meanin' ta get dat replaced for... eh... six months or so. I be kinda surprised it lasted dis long. O' course, I had Bob de Bantha ta fall back on (Yoda was only too glad ta get rid o' 'im for a few hours, mon - dey be doing some kinda wierd group therapy ting).
I pointed 'im away from de wall, took cover, put on me heavy-duty leather gloves, and shouted "Pickle, mon!"
Turns out Bob de Bantha be damn good artillery, for a blind, nervous bantha wit' a severe gas problem.

Meanwhile, in de prison, Jar Jar's potatoes turned out ta be infected wit' some kind o' blight, so de kitchen staff threw dem out. Never put jah plan's fate in de hands o' a Gungan who hates jah. So, de prisoners never got me bolt-cutters. Dey managed to break out o' their cells, though. Turns out one o' dem had a relative wit' connections in Uncle Jinn & JJ's brownie corporation, and had 'is own plans for escapen. His family sent 'im a package o' spiced brownies, and dey gave 'im super-strength! He broke de bars and set all de prisoners free!

But den, as I was about to use me mind tricks on de guards... I realised dat dey all be toydarians. Just perfect. It be like someone knew I be coming! Dey surrounded me and captured me, mon! Dat be no fair! I be outnumbered ten to one, and I did'na have time ta shout "pickle"! De good knews be dat all o' Brett's smuggler friends snuck out through de hole what Bob blew in de wall. De bad news be dat I be locked up in a padded room, awaiting... psychiatric treatment?

What disturbs me be dat all de prison guards were force-immune. It can'na be a coincidence dat all o' dem were toydarian. No way. Someone must have known... but who did I tell about me plan?
Brett... but he be de one who put me up to it in de first place.
Jar Jar... he sent me blighted potatoes, but he don't have de scheming mind or de connections for dis, mon.
Yoda... I had ta borrow Bob from him, yah? But who could he have told? Obi? Ani? Mace?
I tink I be gonna find out soon...

Breakout

2005-11-28T01:53:00.000-08:00

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.

Too Easy, Mon

2005-11-26T01:12:00.000-08:00

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.

Jailbreak

2005-11-20T20:38:00.000-08:00

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...
BZZT! OUCH!
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.

De Slammer, Mon

2005-11-17T12:32:00.000-08:00

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?

Jus' Crazy, Mon

2005-11-12T02:09:00.000-08:00

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?

For Fun and Profit... but mostly fun

2005-11-09T11:55:00.000-08:00

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.

Voodoo 101

2005-11-06T01:47:00.000-08:00

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?

An Odd Request

2005-11-03T01:48:00.000-08:00

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.

When Padawans Attack

2005-10-25T20:58:00.000-07:00

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.

Back to work, mon

2005-10-24T01:48:00.000-07:00

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.

Bongo Time: Finale

2005-10-22T02:06:00.000-07:00

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.

Bongo Time: Part 9

2005-10-19T01:59:00.000-07:00

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!

Bongo Time: Part 8

2005-10-17T21:58:00.000-07:00

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...

Bongo Time: Part 7

2005-10-15T02:59:00.000-07:00

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.

Bongo Time: Part 6

2005-10-13T19:22:00.000-07:00

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...

Bongo Time: Part 5

2005-10-11T21:04:00.000-07:00

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!

Bongo Time: Part 4

2005-10-10T21:42:00.000-07:00

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...

Bongo Time: Part 3

2005-10-08T04:38:00.000-07:00

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.

Bongo Time: Part 2

2005-10-06T21:29:00.000-07:00

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.

Bongo Time: Part 1

2005-10-04T23:05:00.000-07:00

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.

Dis be de happiest moment of my life

2005-10-03T21:06:00.000-07:00

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?

De Tings Jah Hear

2005-09-30T00:15:00.000-07:00

Last night, I be serving drinks at de Nerf and Mynock, mon. And jah know who I saw? Obi-Wan! Now, dis wouldn't ordinarily be too surprisen to me, but jah see, dere was a big wrestling match on dat night - a heavyweight championship. Not only dat, but it be a grudge match too - de challenger had insulted de champion's hairstyle. Now, I did'na be knowen what could make Obi miss a heavyweight championship match, but it had ta be important. So, I asked him. Obi swallowed his bottle o' beer, asked for another, and den told me.

If I wrote down here what Obi said, mon, jah would'na be able to read it. But jah see, Obi's problem was dat Aayla had dumped him. De reason he did'na be watchen de wrestlen match be because he and Aayla had been going to go dere on a date, and it be hurten his soul, mon.

He said a lot o' tings about how bad his life be, mon. I told him dat he'd get over it and dat Aayla might even come back to him if he be nice.
I be very glad I don't be haven' any bones, mon, 'cause if I did, Obi's bear-hugs would crush 'em.

Rum

2005-09-26T22:34:00.000-07:00

Let me tell jah a little someting about de best drink in de whole universe, mon.

Rum be invented on Kessel, back in de early days o' de Republic. De spice miners be dissolven de spice in ethanol to maken what be de forerunner o' modern Quermian rum. After enjoyen centuries o' local popularity on Kessel, rum was imported to Quermia. Dis may have been de single event dat most shaped Quermian history from dat point on, mon.

Rums be made in different ways and have different flavours on different planets. De Kessel rums be de best, mon, since de spice miners still use de original recipies (and ingredients...). Dey have a nice golden color. Dark brown rums be from Quermia, where we be includen de juices o' some of our native plants, like sugarcane. Clear rums be from Corellia, and these don't be very good in my opinion since de taste is a little boring to me, but a lot o' work still be goin' into maken dem and many people be liken' dem.

Rum smugglin' be a great business to invest in, mon. My boss, Brett, be haven' a lot o' money invested in illegally shippen' Kessel rum to Coruscant. I be haven' at least twice as much. Some captains like to drain de rum off when dey reach Coruscant to get de spice back out. Dis be sacrilege to a great drink, mon.

Now, if jah want to get drunk, jah know what to pick.
(Kids under 16, talk to jah parents about it first, mon)

Jedi Psych Test

2005-09-21T23:39:00.000-07:00

Master Yoda be instituten' a psychological exam for all de Jedi. Well, I'm not saying I'm gonna come crawling back to dem, mon (I'm NOT, honest), but I thought I should give it a try.

1. When I find a cheeto on de floor, I do de happy dance, mon. Jah would do de same ting if jah knew Obi - any cheeto dat be on de floor is a cheeto dat he ain't gonna be eaten if I have anyting to say about it.

2. Skin care? I be dead, mon. But even when I was alive, I didn't see de point. I like me skin de way it be, mon - leathery and infested wit'... never mind.

3. Professional wrestling? Hey, mon, I love de stuff. But it be fake. Maybe it don't be *supposed* to be fake, but ever since I took ta usen' voodoo on de contestants as a hobby, it might as well be, mon.

4. Well, if jah name jah feminine side, jah goin' too far. I tink Mace's is called Dorothy.

5. If I wake up wit' de sniffles, I go much further dan Legionaire's disease. I ain't meant to have a nose, mon, and if I wake up one morning and have a nose, den I be worried.

6. I ain't never seen Ernest Goes to Camp, but any movie dat Obi likes must be pretty silly.

7. My arpits be some o' de finest musical instruments in history, mon. De bongos may outshine dem, but dey still be great.

8. And I know I don't be crazy because... Well, how could a crazy person understand dat rum be de best drink in de universe, mon?

I be hopen' I pa- eh... I mean, I don't be caren' if I pass, because de Jedi be stupid anyway.

Late Hours

2005-09-20T23:44:00.000-07:00

I been asked why de Nerf and Mynock closes at twelve, mon. I found de answer last night, and I still be fighten off a hangover. It be closen *officially* at midnight. From midnight till three, it be an illegal casino. Well, I had hoped ta have a job dat be on de right side o' de law, but hey, a guy needs a bit o' fun in his (after)life, mon!

My boss, Brett, be sayen dat dis be where we be maken' de real profit, but sometimes he be needen' a Force-adept to calm down some o' de worst brawls - dat be why he be concerned about how I be a Jedi. Well, de good ting about being a Force-ghost is dat there be a piece o' jah CV walkin' around wit' jah. O' course, I could tell jah about de disadvantages.

But anyway, dis job got a lot more to it dan be meeten' de eye. Brett be sayen' dat a lot o' people who be embarassed to go see a shrink be comen' to their bartender first. *Shrugs* I don't got a degree in psychology, but as long as dey don't pay me, I don't be seein' how de professionalism part matters immensely.

And de last part o' me job - dis bit, I love - is dat Brett be too stingy to hire a band for entertainment. So I get to play de bongos! My top two arms for serving drinks, de other pair for playing de music - I tink dis could work out well.

Last Orders, Mon

2005-09-19T17:49:00.000-07:00

After painful experiences in telepolls, street magic, and cashier duty, I be haven' a good job, mon! Today, I be floaten' past de Jedi temple. To tell jah de truth, I were about to swallow my pride and beg for a job dere. But I were saved at de last minute from a life o' servitude (and probably a lot o' horrible chores as well).

"Hey there! You've got the look of a dead Jedi about you!" Well, if jah say so.
"I haven't been dead all dat long, mon." I be taken a look at dis guy - he be a smallish human wit' short, light brown hair and wearen' a "leather" jacket dat look like it be made o' de skins o' several different diseased animals. But hey, since when do I be caren' about how jah dress, mon?
"That doesn't matter, I was just making conversation. Are you up for a job?"
"How'd jah know dat, mon?"
"Oh, just the little rosette on your robe that says 'Desperate for work'." I be hiden' de rosette hurriedly.
"So, jah got a vacancy, mon?"
"Depends. Ever wanted to be a bartender?"
"Well, I be tryen' everyting else..." and I really didn't want to be beggen' de council for my job back at a janitor's salary. He be tellen me dat his name be Brett, and told me to meet him at de bar at five.

So, I be meeten' him dat night at de bar, de Nerf and Mynock. Dis may well be de perfect job for me, mon. I get to look at bottles o' rum all evening, stay up all night and sleep till de next afternoon. Sadly, Brett found out I be haven' a blog. So, now I got to advertise here.
*enter advertising mode*
So come on down to de Nerf and Mynock, mon. Open from five till midnight!

Another day, another job, next please.

2005-09-18T22:20:00.000-07:00

I be approached in de street today by a smiling Toydarian (a rare ting in itself, mon), who be asken me to take a job at his hardware store. I didn't be knowen why he chose me, but I took de job anyway. Jah be a moron, Yarael, mon...
De hardware store, Bojaa's Junk and Stuff, be one o' de most disgusting cesspools of poor hygeine and malpractice I ever be seein', mon. But it be a job. I was made de cashier dere.

De first customer be looken for a wrench. So simple... Bojaa spent ten minutes rooting through a pile of rusted metal at de back o' de shop, picked out a piece o' corroded iron, and bent it into a wrench shape. De customer was a Mon Calimari, and his skin be quite weak. De sharp corners o' de wrench are not tings dat amphibious creatures should be handling, mon. It did not be a deep or big cut, but Bojaa tried to dress de wound. It would have been kinder not to - de poor guy had to go to hospital when de cut was infected. Dis shop be full o' virulent oozes.

Den, we had a Dug here. Now, Dugs be mean and nasty as a rule, but even so, he did not be desrven it, mon. He be wanten a plasma cell. Bojaa be tellen him dat we not be haven any plasma cells here. But we did, mon, dere was one on de shelf right behind him, and de Dug pointed dis out. Bojaa picken up de cell, and handen it over. After de Dug left, Bojaa washed his hands and explained dat de cell had a leak, and he didn't be wanten to have plasma all over his hands. I be sayen dat maybe he shouldn't have sold a leaky cell.
"Hey, it ain't going to hurt nobody unless he sticks in in a speeder, eh?"
De next minute, an ambulance be comen past de shop, and we heard somebody talken about an exploden speeder.

...
I resigned (but not before tippen de police off).

Street Magic

2005-09-15T22:26:00.000-07:00

Remind me not to be taken Fluke Starbucker's advice ever again, mon.

Dis mornin', I went to downtown Coruscant to try and be getten some credits doin' magic on de streets. My first efforts were painful, mon. Floating in de middle of a skyway with cars flyin' right through jah do not be a good way to spend jah mornin'. After a while, I be deciden to try on de sidewalk rather dan de middle of de road.

So, I start usen de Force to impress people. Dat not be lasten long though - a Jedi came along and say dat I be infringen on copywright laws. Copywright. I be a Jedi, and I not be rememberen any copywright! Oh... unless he meant *dat* copywright law dat started de whole millennia-long feud between de Jedi and de Sith... Dat one.

Anyway, I got to doin' some sleight-of-hand tricks. Quermians got four arms - we be out o' everyone else's league! I can do de "which cup is de pea under" trick wit' seven cups if I be concentraten hard enough! De problem be, I be too good for me own good. I be drawen spectators from two blocks away, and de other street magic performers don't be jammin' to dat.

Dey started tryen to muscle in on me crowds. Den, I had to break out de real magic: voodoo. Unfortunately, there be some law or other about magically assaulting citizens of Coruscant...

Well, dat career be over with now. Although, I did get to use Fluke's favorite trick: My disappearen act. POOF!

Finden A Niche

2005-09-13T21:49:00.000-07:00

Now dat I be back in de swing o' tings, I got to find someting to be doin' wit' me time, mon. De Jedi temple threw me out - they've been looking for an excuse for damn near thirty years now - so I can't get a job wit' dem. Today, I be tryin' to get a job at de Coruscant telephone polling offices. De job be to ring people up on de phones and be asken dem who dey be voten for in de next senatorial elections. It be a boring job, but I got to have someting to get paid for, mon, or I be running out of rum pretty soon. First, I be assigned to Naboo. It be seemin pointless - I don't tink Senator Amidala be likely to get voted out anytime soon - but *apparently* someone got ta do it.

Dis job be goin' badly. So what if I be usen de force to change peoples' opinions? Distorting de statistics - bah! If I want ta *convince* one person in every hundred to vote for - say - Yoda as de Naboo Senator, den I tink it should be part o' de compensation for such a boring job, eh mon? De statisticians not be seeing it my way, and I be fired after one day.

Where to go next?

At Peace... Almost - Epilogue

2005-09-11T21:16:00.000-07:00

Back on Coruscant, Yarael finally recieved the meditation training from Qui-Gon Jinn he had been desperate for since the beginning of the saga. He can now interact at will with the physical world, play his bongo drums, and drink his rum.

Jawajuice, now pleasantly in control of the brownie market, has already turned thousands of teenagers back to the Light Side of Cuisine, and is contemplating the release of a new extra-strong flavor called the "E'etooi" - warning: side effects may include nausea, vomiting, dizziness, hallucinations and/or schitzophrenia.

Jar Jar has come to terms at last with the usefulness and validity of voodoo as a form of magic, but sees no reason to turn from traditional Gungan shamanism as of yet.

Qui-Gon and Count Dooku, reunited at last, tried to plan a comeback tour of the galaxy, and although they were thwarted by Dooku's sinister master, their music remains immortal.

Meanwhile, in the cold of space...
A lone escape pod hurtles through the frozen infinity of stars, driven by no more than the lack of friction in the void. In the pod, a shadowy figure plots his revenge...
E'etooi: All shall suffer for my downfall... SUFFER!

The End... for now.

At Peace... Almost - Finale

2005-09-11T01:46:00.000-07:00

Rooku McDooku's warehouse has been obliterated along with the secret recipies for his fast food (but General Grievous is all right, thanks for asking), and his space station has been crippled, but one task remains...
Jawajuice's space buggy flies in through the hangar of the slowly decaying Darth Star (tm), smashing against the walls more than a few times. Yarael and Jawajuice emerge, to find Jawajuice's amoral (and crazy) uncle E'etooi waiting for them...

Yarael: Jah gonna pay for all de teenagers jah gave heart diseases, E'etooi.
Jawajuice: We'll take him together. You go in slowly on the left-
Yarael (running at E'etooi and igniting his lightsabre): I be taken him now, mon!
Jawajuice: No, Yarael!
Predictably, Yarael's lightsabre drops through his hand.
Yarael: Uh-oh.
E'etooi takes a stale bantha burger from inside his Jawa robe and lobs it at Yarael. It smacks the deceased Jedi in the face and knocks him down.
E'etooi: Whoa. That one was really stale. As you can see, my deep-frying powers are far beyond yours.
Jawajuice: Uh... yeah. That could be a problem.
They fight, throwing brownies and burgers at each other. E'etooi's bantha burgers are stale and sometimes mouldy, but Jawajuice... well, he must have some advantage, since he doesn't lose immediately. However, he is soon struck in the face by a particularly rancid piece of deep-fried fatty meat. E'etooi comes close to deliver the finishing blow...
E'etooi: They never told you what happened to your father, did they?
Jawajuice: Eh? What?
E'etooi: Jawajuice... I am your father.
Jawajuice: Uh... That doesn't make any sense. You're my uncle.
E'etooi: I'm crazy, okay, bear with me.
As the Jawas argue, Yarael gets back on his ethereal feet and prepares a voodoo curse to strike E'etooi down. However, the evil (and crazy) Jawa notices. He knocks out Jawajuice with a swift punch, then turns to Yarael.
E'etooi: Brave of you, witch doctor. I would have thought you'd learnt your lesson.
Yarael: Lesson? What lesson jah be talken about, mon?
He attempts to thrust a pin through his voodoo doll, but E'etooi knocks him unconscious again with an extra-large pack of fries, then makes for his escape ship nearby. However, just as he is about to leave...
Jar Jar: Stoppen right dere.
E'etooi: Jar Jar Binks.
Jar Jar: E'etooi Mab'oo'tini'oobitt'ta'eetooni.
E'etooi: You have interfered with my plans for the last time.
He holds out his right hand and attempts to clog Jar Jar's arteries with saturated fat. The gungan is unmoved.
Jar Jar: Yousa hassen becomen muy powerful, E'etooi, but mesa sensen der deep-fried side in yousa.
E'etooi: I am more powerful than any cook... Even Jawajuice.
He gestures to his nephew's unconscious form.
Jar Jar: Words can noah settlen thissen. Wesa fighten!
He leaps into the air, hurling explosive potions and boomas in all directions. E'etooi counters with several volleys of stale bantha burgers, but is overwhelmed.
Jar Jar: Yousa hassen fighten well, old friend.
E'etooi: This is just the beginning.
He breaks out of the fight and runs for his ship. He just manages to get in before Jar Jar's boomas start bursting against the closed door. As the ship takes off, Qui-Gon enters from the brig, Count Dooku in tow.
Jar Jar: Hesa issen getten away!
Count Dooku: Care for one last song, Quiggy old chap?
Qui-Gon's eyes fill with tears.
Qui-Gon: Like, any time, buddy!
They both pull massive guitars from behind their backs and begin playing one of their greatest hits from back in the good old days: Some Jedi to Love. Out in space, E'etooi's ship begins to buckle.
E'etooi: Uh-oh.
The escape craft implodes under the force of the reighteous music, taking E'etooi with it... Or did it?

To be continued...

At Peace... Almost - Part 9

2005-09-10T01:10:00.000-07:00

Back on Serenno, Jar Jar finishes his mixture of Hutt slime and Fambaa spit, and sloshes it around Yarael's chalk pentagram on the ground. Yarael, meanwhile, completes the tricky task of weaving a wicker model of the Darth Star (tm). Jawajuice's space buggy lands beside the ritual circle, and the Jawa and the Jedi emerge.

Jawajuice: Mission accomplished!
Yarael: Well, what did jah get?
Jawajuice: Paint.
Yarael: Paint?
Qui-Gon: To be fair, it was, like, damn expensive paint.
Yarael: Oh, fine, fine.
He rushes over to scrape some from the side of the space buggy.
Jar Jar: Hey! Yousa ready?
Yarael: Yah, mon. Now-
Three droid starfighters dive out of the sky, guns blazing.
General Grievous: You didn't think I'd *aaah-kooahfah!* let you destroy the Darth Star (tm), did you? Attack!
Yarael: Uh oh.
Qui-Gon draws his lightsabre and starts delfecting blaster bolts, Jar Jar flings boomas with lamentable accuracy, and Jawajuice stands around looking concerned.
Yarael: Hey! Jar Jar! Jah gonna do more harm dan good, mon! Give JJ de boomas and come help me here!
Jar Jar: Noah way! Mesa noah gonna helpen wit' der voodoo!
He takes out Jawajuice with a poorly-aimed booma.
Jar Jar: Er... Maybe issen a better idea, after all.
He joins Yarael and starts chanting.
Qui-Gon: Uh... make this quick!
He destroys one of the smaller starfighters with a deflected shot, then sends one spiralling into the ground with a well-aimed Force blast.
General Grievous: Hah! Nice shot, but you won't beat - *cough**hack**a-koofh**k'oah**k'oah**k'oah*...
He continues coughing for so long that he loses control of the fighter and crashes into McDooku's warehouse, destroying it.
Qui-Gon (rolls eyes): Get an inhaler, man...
Yarael: It be done, mon! Now, let's see how de Darth Star (tm) stands up to dis!
He picks up the voodoo doll and rams a pin through it.

Up in space, the main engines of the Darth Star (tm) suddenly and mysteriously fizzle out and explode, leaving the space station adrift.

At Peace... Almost - Part 8

2005-09-07T22:11:00.000-07:00

Yarael, with a little grudging assistance from Jar Jar, has prepared his ritual for the construction of his voodoo doll of the Darth Star (tm). High above, Jawajuice and Qui-Gon endeavor to acquire a piece of the battle station for the spell...

Qui-Gon: Like, bummer! The Darth Star (tm) doesn't have the original aerial! Count Dooku must have ripped it off!
Jawajuice: We'll have to aim for something else... How about the new aerial?
Qui-Gon: No way! That's, like, a customized transmitter - I reckon it can recieve signals from halfway across the galaxy. Count Dooku would notice if we took it out - it'd be even worse than scratching the paintwork.
Jawajuice: Hmm... the paintwork...
Qui-Gon: I've got a bad feeling about this...
Jawajuice starts flicking switches left and right, revving up the custom Space Buggy and pushing it well beyond the recommended safety levels for fuel intake.
Jawajuice: Here goes nothing! You'd better hold onto something, Qui!
Qui-Gon rolls his eyes.
Qui-Gon: "Hold onto something"? I haven't been able to hold onto anything, like, since I died.
Jawajuice: Forget it, then. Let's go!
He takes his foot off the brake pedal, and the buggy rockets forward towards the Darth Star (tm).
Qui-Gon: Oh, we're gonna die... Well, you're gonna die...
Jawajuice: I think not! Whoohoo!
Turning a fraction of a degree to the left, the buggy cannons past the side of the Darth Star (tm) and scrapes the side, taking some of the incredibly expensive vacuum-resistant paint with it.
Jawajuice: Great! We've got it! Let's get back to Jar Jar and Yarael.
Qui-Gon: I hear you there, man.

Now armed with a vital (aesthetically speaking) piece of the Darth Star (tm), Jawajuice and Qui-Gon head back to Yarael's impromptu ritual circle. But will Jawajuice's obsessive (and crazy) uncle E'etooi let his nephew and his nephew's ghostly partner get away with scratching the paintwork...?

At Peace... Almost - Part 7

2005-09-06T21:59:00.000-07:00

In orbit around the planet, Jawajuice's vile (and crazy) uncle E'etooi docks with Rooku McDooku's space station, the Darth Star (tm), in his pogo-powered space buggy. Count Dooku meets him in the docking area.

Count Dooku: Darth Chipzandburgaz, simply smashing to see you again old boy, eh what? Here on business, old chap? Would you like a spot of tea and-
E'etooi: Spare me your ramblings, fool. I'm taking command of McDoooku's!
Count Dooku: What? But... Oh, that's just not cricket!
He ignites his lightsabre. E'etooi holds out his hand.
E'etooi: Feel the pain of obesity!
Count Dooku: Oof!
E'etooi: High cholesterol!
Count Dooku: Urg!
E'etooi: And arteries choked with unsaturated fat!
Count Dooku: Oof-
He throws up on the floor, convulsing.
E'etooi (addressing the droids): Take him away and lock him in the brig. It's time for me to take over and destroy Uncle Jinn & JJ's once and for all...

Meanwhile, on Serenno...

Yarael: I got a bit o' E'etooi's hair before he left. Dis voodoo doll will show jah where he be hidin. I can't be usen it for regular voodoo, but it be starten' to glowin' brighter de closer it gets to E'etooi.
Jar Jar: Hmph. Mesa could have doin better.
Qui-Gon: So, like, where is the little guy?
Yarael: He be in orbit around de planet. He must be on McDooku's space station.
Jawajuice: My little space buggy can't take on the Darth Star! That thing's huge!
Yarael: Jah don't be needin' to. I can be makin' a voodoo doll o' de space station!
Jar Jar: Yousa noah can doin' voodoo on a spaceship! Stupid.
Yarael: Jah be knowin' noting, mon. Jus' jah be watchin' me.
Jar Jar: Hmph.
Qui-Gon: Don't you need, like, a piece of the station?
Yarael: Well, jah space buggy must have some weapons. Jus' shoot of a piece and bring it back to me - someting no one be noticin'.
Jawajuice: I'll knock off the radio aerial. No one uses them anyway - you need custom ones to get good reception.
Yarael: Right, mon. Let's be movin' den!

At Peace... Almost - Part 6

2005-09-04T22:21:00.000-07:00

After listening to E'etooi's disturbing (and crazy) soliloquy, we return to our heroes (that's Yarael, Jawajuice, Qui-Gon and Jar Jar - but if you need to be reminded, then go back and read everything again) as they head for Serenno at maximum warp in Jawajuice's space buggy. Oh, and Yarael happens to be trying to kill the others.

Jar Jar: Goin faster! Goin faster!
Jawajuice (frantically pushing random buttons): Didn't you read the intro? We're already going at maximum warp!
Qui-Gon: This thing needs, like, some extra-special fuel.
He takes a case of Uncle Jinn & JJ's spiced brownies from inside his robe.
Qui-Gon: This'll do it!
He runs to the furnace at the back of the ship and drops in the brownies. The space buggy doubles in speed and rushes on towards Serenno.
Qui-Gon: Radical, man!
Yarael is left behind, floating in space and trying to catch up.

Five minutes later, in the lobby of Rooku McDooku's warehouse on Serenno...

Jawajuice: Look at this place... There's so much Dark Side power in these crates of burgers...
Qui-Gon: Hey, who's that?
E'etooi: Mwahahahaha! Buhuwhahahahaha! You've stumbled right into my trap!
Jawajuice: Uncle E'etooi! I knew it! I'm not sure how I knew it, but I did, trust me.
Jar Jar looks around.
Jar Jar: Wassen issen thissen trap? Mesa noah seein a trap.
E'etooi: Well... admittedly, there isn't a trap here *yet*. But if you wait a little while, I'll set one up for you.
Jawajuice: Oh no you don't!
E'etooi: Oh yes I do! Yarael, destroy them!
Yarael floats down through the ceiling and ignites his lightsabre.
Jar Jar: Ulp.
Yarael: Now jah be dyin'!
Qui-Gon: That's, like, totally not cool, man. Eat brownie!
He lobs a brownie at Yarael.
E'etooi: That won't work, fools! He needs *really* healthy food to bring him back to the Light Side of Cuisine!
Qui-Gon: Hmm... Luckily, I have just the thing.
He reaches into his robe.
Jar Jar: Issen thassen...?
Qui-Gon: A head of lettuce! Here you go, Poof!
The head of lettuce sails through the air towards Yarael and bursts, scattering leaves everywhere.
Yarael: Wha- Tanks for dat, mon. I be all right now.
E'etooi: Nooooo!
Jawajuice: Wait, wait, wait. Why did you have a head of lettuce with you?
Qui-Gon (shrugs): It moved the plot forward.
E'etooi: You may have taken my slave from me, but you'll never win! The time has come for me to stage my grand takeover of McDooku's! Hahahahaha!
He pulls a pogo stick from behind his back, bounces a few times to gain speed, then bounces right through the roof, smashing wood and plastic as he goes.
Yarael: We got to be followin' him, mon!
Jawajuice: Well...
Yarael: Oh, come on, mon! Jah got to save jah brownie company!
Jawajuice: I suppose...

As E'etooi bounces to freedom on his pogo stick, Yarael and co. prepare to save the galaxy from the evil of deep-fried fast food...

At Peace... Almost - Part 5

2005-09-04T01:06:00.000-07:00

Deep in the shadowy warehouse of Rooku McDooku's Serenno branch office, Jawajuice's crazy uncle E'etooi soliloquises to a box of stale bantha burgers about how he became so evil, why he wants revenge on his sane nephew, and why he wants to take over McDooku's...

E'etooi: You know, box of stale bantha burgers, they thought I was happy. Happy in that dusty trailor park - what? Yes, everything *is* dusty on Tatooine, but that's not the point, my dear box of stale bantha burgers. Where was I? Ah yes. My clan actually thought I was happy in that trailor park, surrounded by cigarette butts and squashed cans of soft drink and joints of Kessel Spice, with nothing and no one to keep me company but a few pieces of roadkill, whom I befriended and worked my taxidermic arts upon. Nothing and no one...
He glares at the ceiling for a few seconds, then loses interest and looks back to the box of stale bantha burgers, apparently his only friend in the world.
E'etooi: Until, box of stale bantha burgers, someone came to me. Hidden in my trailor park sanctum, I was sought out by a man who sundered apart my roadkill taxidermy collection with blasts of force-lightning. Murder most foul...
E'etooi's eyes burn with rage as he remembers this event.
E'etooi: That was my first meeting with Count Dooku. You won't need them anymore, he said, sweeping aside my poor friends... And then, for some strange reason, he offered me a job here. I can only assume that he came to my trailor park to do this in the first place. I suppose my taxidermy was not to his oh-so-refined tastes. What's that, box o stale bantha burgers? Why do I want Jawajuice to suffer? I want my whole clan to suffer! Would it have been too difficult to find me a decent retirement home? For the rest of his family, the grief of his passing will be punishment enough. But Jawajuice himself... the one who made the choice to leave me in that trailor park - too cheap to even pay for me to stay in a mental hospital - must die. And of course, killing Qui-Gon Jinn will make it much easier to take over their brownie company. But I have talked for too long, box of stale bantha burgers. It is time for me to put my great plans into motion!
He takes a bantha burger from the box and leaves the room, munching thoughtfully.

At Peace... Almost - Part 4

2005-09-03T02:55:00.000-07:00

Meanwhile, back at Jawajuice's apartment...

Qui-Gon: Man, I hope Yarael's, like, okay. It'd be a real bummer if he, like, died. Again.
Jawajuice: You worry too much, Quiggy old pal. In fact, I think that's Yarael right there.
He points out the window at a ghostly figure with a ridiculously long neck wafting at breakneck speed (yes, *wafting*) towards the apartment. Yarael moves through the wall effortlessly.
Qui-Gon: Great, you're back! How'd it go?
Yarael: Jah be de enemies of de master... jah must be exterminated...
Jawajuice: What? What's going on? And doesn't your speech usually show up in teal, not grey?
Qui-Gon: Uh... little buddy, I think something's, like, wrong with the poof-meister. Look at his waistline.
Jawajuice (gasps): He's so fat! Only one thing can make someone get that unhealthy so fast... Yarael has turned to the Dark Side of Cuisine!
Yarael turns to Jawajuice.
Yarael: Master... I see jah be here to make sure I be doin' it right. Don' worry, be happy. I be goin' ethereal on his ass!
Jawajuice: Eh? What are you talking about?
Yarael ignites his lightsabre and runs at Qui-Gon Jinn.
Qui-Gon: JJ! Did you, like, set me up? After all we've been through?
Jawajuice: Of course not!
Qui-Gon ignites his own sabre and springs into mortal combat (or immortal combat, rather) with Yarael. Yarael quickly gains the upper hand, however, just as all seems lost...
Jar Jar Binks: Hi-yah!
The Gungan frog-thing bursts through the door and starts hurling boomas at Yarael. Very few of them actually reach their intended target, instead doing untold damage to Jawajuice's apartment. The jawa winces, checks his insurance policy, then relaxes noticably.
Yarael: Ooh, I be rememberen jah, shaman! Jah be wanten' a rematch now?
Jar Jar Binks: Er... maybe some other time. Come on! Wesa mussen getten out of here!
Jawajuice: I hear you there, freaky frog-thing!
Qui-Gon: Right behind you!
Jar Jar Binks: Here! Catch, yousa tricksy voodoo Jedi!
He lobs a glass bottle at Yarael, then runs out, followed by Jawajuice and Qui-Gon.
Jawajuice: Uh... Jar Jar, just what was that glass bottle?
Jar Jar Binks: Issen a genie bottle - itsa will catchen Yarael inside itsa! Wait -
He checks his bag, then pulls out another bottle.
Jar Jar Binks: Wait... *thissen* issen der genie bottle... so whatsa wassen der -
The apartment violently explodes behind them. Jawajuice checks his insurance policy once again, then breathes a sigh of relief.
Jawajuice: So, how'd you know we were in trouble?
Jar Jar Binks: Yousa wassen in trouble? Mesa wassen noah knowen thassen.
Qui-Gon: Then why did you, like, burst in and start attacking poofy?
Jar Jar Binks: Mesa noah liken himsa berry much.
Jawajuice: Never mind. The important thing is that we find out what happened to Yarael on Serenno. And, through some implausible plot hole, I somehow know that my crazy uncle E'etooi is involved somehow...

At Peace... Almost - Part 3

2005-09-02T04:03:00.000-07:00

Inside Rooku McDooku's warehouse on Serenno, Yarael Poof is presented to the Branch Manager by General Grievous, looking left and right for an opportunity to steal or destroy the secret recipies for McDooku's dark-side-tainted fatty meals...

General Grievous: Here you *ah-k'oahch**hack* are, sir. This spirit Jedi was trying to get in and inspect the warehouse for giant bugs.
The Branch Manager, cloaked in shadow, waves his hand and mutters. Yarael strains to hear, but can't make it out.
General Grievous: But sir - *cough**aaah-KOOFHA* Yes, sir.
General Grievous turns and leaves the room, already shouting at his pit droids. The Branch Manager steps forward out of the shadows, showing himself to be...

Jawajuice's crazy uncle E'etooi!

Unfortunately, all Jawas look the same to Yarael.
Yarael: Jawajuice? What jah be doin' here, mon?
E'etooi (momentarily taken aback, but quickly recovers): Uh... yes, it is I, Jawajuice! I've been working for Rooku McDooku all along, to produce cheap fatty fast food and turn billions of teenagers to the Dark Side of cuisine!
Yarael: But... why?
E'etooi: Well, isn't it obvious? If I can overthrow McDooku, *I'll* be the one in control of this whole enterprise! Then, I'll have control of all the light-siders who worship at the altar of Uncle Jinn & JJ, *and* all the dark-siders who devour McDooku's fatty food! But once I *really* control Uncle Jinn & JJ's, I'll shut the place down and use the revenue for McDooku's!
Yarael: Sorry, mon, I did'na catch de last bit.
E'etooi: Eh? Oh, never mind. So, now that you know what's going on, I want you to... uh... oh, I know: ASSASSINATE QUI-GON JINN!
Yarael: But, Qui-Gon's jah friend, mon! And I only be helpin' jah so I can get *his* help!
E'etooi: Oh. Well... ah... never mind, then. Perhaps you'd like to... uh... *sample* some of our dishes?
Yarael: But dem fast food dishes be of de Dark Side o' cuisine!
E'etooi: Perhaps you didn't hear me correctly, Yarael. Would you like to sample some of our dishes?
Yarael (eyes glaze over): Yah... I be liken to sample some of jah dishes...
E'etooi: Excellent... come this way...

Yarael, now under the influence of Jawajuice's nefarious (and crazy) uncle E'etooi, follows him into the shadows, to taste fatty, greasy fast food that has only been seen before in the nightmares of master chefs...

At Peace... Almost - Part 2

2005-09-01T04:34:00.000-07:00

Hours later, Yarael Poof floats through the wall of a spaceliner and hovers above the ground of Serenno.

Yarael: Dat be de last time I take Coruscant Spaceways, mon. Now, off to find Rooku McDooku's warehouse.
Yarael wafts gently downwards and lands, somewhat uncertainly, on the packed soil. He looks around.
Yarael: So... where be de warehouse, anyway?
He hears a voice from over a nearby hill.
General Grievous: Get those turrets *cough**ka-ough**hack* working, you lazy *koah-koah-koah* slime! Count Dooku wants this place to be inpenetrable to stop Uncle Jinn & JJ from getting in!
Yarael: Jackpot, mon.
He floats over the hill. General Grievous is standing amongst a gaggle of pit droids, who are hammering laser turrets together.
General Greivous: Hey! Who are y- *k'oah**k'oah**a-kooahk**cough**hack**ka-oah**k'ack**aaah-kooach*!
Yarael looks at his watch, or at least, he looks at the place his watch would be if it hadn't fallen through his spectral wrist.
Yarael: Jah be gonna do dis all day, mon?
General Grievous: *Ah-koah**hack* *Ahem* Where was I? You! What do you think you're doing here?
Yarael: Ah... well, mon, I was gonna... ah... inspect jah warehouse. For... bugs. Yah.
General Grievous: *Cough* Bugs?
Yarael: Ah... yah, mon. Really big ones.
He holds his arms out in front of him, to show just how big.
General Grievous: So, you're an inspector? Well, I'll show you what we do to inspectors!
General Grievous ignites all four of his lightsabres. In response, Yarael takes out his sabre from his robe - and it falls through his hand to the ground.
Yarael: Ah.
General Grievous charges, blades whirling. Yarael backs away and floats into the air, periodically releasing Force blasts towards the ground. General Grievous, unfazed, hurls three of his four lightsabres at Yarael.
Yarael: Argh!
The lightsabre blades pass through him without leaving a scratch. Yarael decides on a cunning ploy to break the stalemate, and falls to the ground.
General Grievous, unaware of his failure to injure Yarael, approaches.
General Grievous: So, *ah-k'oah**hack* what should I do with you now?
Yarael: Well, mon, jah could... ah... take me to your leader?
General Grievous: Your reverse psychology won't work on me. You only said that so I would let you go! But now, I'll do just that. Droids! Take him inside!
Yarael: Heh heh... the old "reversed-reverse-psychology" trick. Gets jah every time...

General Grievous's pit droids drag Yarael into the warehouse, to bring him face to face with the sinister branch manager of the Serenno warehouse...

At Peace... Almost - Part 1

2005-08-30T21:29:00.000-07:00

When last we left our hero, Yarael Poof had decided to seek out Master Qui-Gon Jinn to help him with some of the finer points of being a Force Ghost...

Scene 1: Qui-Gon's and Jawajuice's apartment.

Yarael: Mon, jah got to help me. I can't do any o' de tings what make life worth living!
Qui-Gon: I'd be, like, glad to help with -
Jawajuice: Not now, though. I need you here, to help prevent Count Dooku from making a hostile takeover of our brownie company and turning it into a chain of cheap fast food stores!
Yarael: What be more important, mon? Me wellbeing, or jah brownie company?
Qui-Gon: My little buddy has a point, Yarael. It's not just the brownies, it's, like, the principle of the thing. Count Dooku's fast food outlets will sell totally fatty food, that has, like, no Kessel spi- er... no *flavor* - and will, like, ruin planetary health standards. We've lost enough battles so far - Bantha King and Kentucky Fried Kaadu have drawn so many teenagers away from healthy foods. If McDooku's opens, there'll be, like, an obesity epidemic.
Yarael: I'll tell jah what, mon. I'll raid Rooku McDooku's warehouse and destroy de secret recipies for his cheap fast food, den jah can help me wit' de whole "being one wit' de living Force" ting.
Jawajuice: I suppose that could work. Come back here with absolute proof that you've done it, and not only will I loan you Qui-Gon, I'll give you a cut-price insurance policy.
Yarael: I'm dead, mon. What would I need jah insurance policy for?
Jawajuice: Well... I'll give you some discount brownies, then.
Qui-Gon: Would those be the brownies that, like, fell in the-
Jawajuice: Shhhh...

The deal is made, and Yarael floats through the ether towards Rooku McDooku's warehouse on Serenno...

Comin to terms wit' bein dead

2005-08-29T21:41:00.000-07:00

I be dead, and dere don't be much I can do about it, mon. I know I've been agonisen to jah about it for de past two days, but it be preyen on my mind a lot. Today, I made up my mind to list de good and bad points o' bein dead.

Bad Points

I can't drink me rum.
I can't play de bongos.
If I don't be concentraten hard, I fall through de floor.
I be dead. Das' de heart o' de matter. I don't be liken de whole idea.

Good Points

I don't be needen to eat no more - das' just an inconvenience.
I'm a Force-Ghost, so I be able to scare Yoda now. Jah should see de fun Qui-Gon has wit' him.

Sadly, I can't tink o' much else. But if I be finden a way to drink me rum and play me bongos wit' my ethereal hands, I can put up wit' de rest, I tink. Tomorrow, I be goin' to find dat Qui-Gon Jinn and be seein what advice he be havin'.

Second Day o' Bein' Dead

2005-08-28T22:55:00.000-07:00

... and I still be haten it. Dat Qui-Gon Jinn, he always be sayen dat bein' one wit' de livin' Force be great, but bein' dead really throws off me rhythm, mon, and I can't be jammin' to de Force properly. I tink I must'a done someting wrong in de whole "becomen' one wit' de Force" ting, 'cause he can pick tings up and stuff, and I can't even be playin' de bongos no more.

Now, I be out on de streets - tanks to de Jedi council - and I got to earn money, mon. A street-wise Jedi can get a lot o' money out o' con-men usually by usen' de Force, but today I had bad luck. See, de con-men have a union just like all de other industries. And dey have great dental! De Jedi dental plan... well, let's just say it be one o' de reasons I *almost* became a Sith. Anyway, dey not be liken it when de Jedi use de Force on dem. See, de con-man I spoke to had hidden his pea under de *fourth* cup, dat be hidden behind his back, and after I lost thirty credits to him I just used de Force to make de pea explode... It be a long story after dat, but now my picture be distributed to all de con-men in Coruscant. And dere be old people threatenen to sue me because dey can't see me now dat I'm transparent, mon, wit' dere bad eyes and all - dey walk right through me and get a taste o' de chill o' de grave...

Don' worry, be happy... Easier said dan done, mon.

Just Typical

2005-08-28T03:42:00.000-07:00

I leave for two days, mon, two measly days, and I come back DEAD! Dem High Council be having a lot to answer for now, mon. And dem bounty hunters who came wit' me be in perfect health. Yah, mon, Coruscant is safe from de forces of evil once again and all dat, but I'm DEAD! I can't play de bongos. I can't drink me rum. Heck, mon, I had to borrow Master Yoda's Stupid Intern to even type up dis post! And what's more, dey be kickin' me out o' de Jedi Temple! Someting about de government grants only paying for de administratin' costs o' *one* spirit Jedi at a time. Dey just be stingey, jah know.

So now, I be out on de street. And I can't play de bongos or drink me rum. Life be bad. No - I don't even be alive no more! Death be sucky.

Off I Go...

2005-08-24T23:46:00.000-07:00

Dem other Jedi be so lazy, mon. No sooner dan I get back from de duel wit' dat no-good Gungan, dey be giving me a new mission. I wasn't really listenin', mon, but it be someting about some weapon or other, and a threat to Coruscant, and blah blah blah. Come on, mon, Coruscant always be in danger dese days. Don' worry; be happy! And de "partners" I have to work wit', a couple o' bounty hunters o' some kind... what do dere names be... Jango Fett and Zam Wessel, das dem. Now, dis be boring. Even stayen here and teachen de younglings to play de bongos be more interesten dan dis, mon. But anyway, I got to be leaven now, mon, but dis won't take more dan a minute.

Jar Jar Binks vs Yarael Poof: Part 3

2005-08-22T21:48:00.000-07:00

Continued from Jar Jar's Blog...

Jar Jar: Bawk! Bawk! Buck-karck!
Yarael: Heh heh. I got jah now, mon!
He regains his composure after his sneezing fit and picks up the voodoo doll, before skewering it with his pin. Jar Jar is unnaffected.
Jawajuice: Huh? What?
He leafs through the instruction book of his DIY Voodoo kit.
Jawajuice: Oh, yeah, right. Since Jar Jar has changed his form, Yarael will need a whole new kaadu-shaped voodoo doll to attack him! A cunning strategy, Jar Jar.
Jar Jar: Bawk! Er... yeah. Bawk! Issen mesa... strategy. Issen noah an accidenty. Bawk! Buck-karck!
Yarael: Jah gonna pay for dat...
He crushes the gungan doll and starts remolding it into a kaadu shape.
Jawajuice: Is Jar Jar going to stand for this? No, he's picking up a potion bottle in his beak... dropping it... going for it again... ooh, he's trying to make a sort of pincer movement... he's got it!
Jar Jar crams the bottle into his mouth, then spits it towards Yarael. It lands on the marshmallows that Jar Jar accidentally created earlier, bounces a few times, and fails to burst.
Yarael: What jah gonna do now, mon?
Jar Jar: Er... Buckarck?
Jawajuice: Wait a minute; that bottle doesn't look like one of Jar Jar's! It's too fancy! Something's up here...
Jar Jar charges at Yarael and crushes the bottle beneath his feet, causing the potion's effects to come into play...

Continued on Jar Jar Binks's blog...

Jar Jar Binks vs Yarael Poof: Part 1

2005-08-22T02:38:00.000-07:00

Jawajuice: It's a lovely day down here at the edge of the dune sea, we've got sun, sand... more sun... sand... lots of sun... ooh! Look there! A rock! Eh... never mind. Jar Jar and Yarael, incensed by each others denouncements of their prefered brands of magic, have come to blows... we can see the contestants entering now...
Jar Jar enters from the left, Yarael from the right.
Jar Jar: Yousa gonna getten pasten, Poofy!
Yarael: We'll just see about dat, mon.
Jawajuice: 3, 2, 1, BEGIN!
The two shamans begin circling each other, looking for openings. Suddely, Yarael strikes, lunging forward with a knife and cutting a scrap of cloth from Jar Jar's robe.
Jar Jar: Hah! Yousa missen!
Yarael: No, I didn't.
He strikes again, this time cutting the frog-thing's skin and catching the piece before it drifts to the ground.
Jar Jar: OW!
Yarael: Hah! I got jah now!
Yarael quickly whips out a gungan-shaped voodoo doll and attaches the cloth and skin to the tiny mannakin.
Jawajuice: Ooh, it looks like Yarael has prepared a Jar Jar voodoo doll!
Yarael: Now jah goin' down, froggo!
He stabs the doll with a pin. Jar Jar falls to the ground.

Continued on Jar Jar Binks's blog...

Time to fight, mon.

2005-08-20T23:42:00.000-07:00

Dat Jar Jar Binks has it comin, mon. He tinks dat voodoo is inferior to his wierd Gungan mystic ways, and I don't be jammin' to dat. So tomorrow, we duel. At dawn, out in de dune sea on Tatooine, we gonna test out our magic against each other. It don't be a fight to de death, but only 'cause I don't want to be dodgin' a lawsuit. I don't be allowed to jam to de force in de duel, but dat don't be goin to save him, mon. I got a voodoo doll ready, and dat's all I be needin', mon.

Voodoo

2005-08-20T03:48:00.000-07:00

Voodoo is da ancient Quermian art of makin' bad stuff happen to other people by projectile acupuncture. Jah got ta make a model of da person, wit' a piece o' deir actual hair and clothing attached, and den stab dem wit' a special needle. Wherever jah stab dem, dey will suffer extreme pain. Now, if jah can jam to de music o' de Force, it gets interestin', mon. I like to make de needle blow up inside the doll - I can cause a heart attack at sixty paces, so watch it, mon! To make jah own voodoo doll, jah got ta make a body de same shape as jah enemy's body out o' straw. It has to look like jah target, mind. Snip some hair from jah enemy and glue it on de head, make some clothes dat look like dere usual outfits, den stab dem wit' a silver pin. When jah does so, jah must try to *believe* dat jah stabbin' de actual person.
I hope jah enjoy voodoo - de best form o' magic in de galaxy!

I miss Quermia...

2005-08-18T01:33:00.000-07:00

Ten tings dat jah might not know about us Quermians (and about me, mon).

1. We got no bones!
2. But to make up for it, we got two brains! Hear dat, Ki Adi Mundi? Jah always talkin' 'bout how jah got superior logic 'cause o' jah two brains, well I got dem too!
3. We got a nose in each hand, mon. We can smell someting by touch.
4. And since we got four arms, we got four noses! How cool is dat, mon?
5. We all got great skills wit' mind-control and telepathy (although, usin' de Force helps, mon). I bet I can read jah mind right now, mon. Jah tinken... dat jah want ta go and eat a sandwich. I suggest peanut butter, mon.
6. I got a cool Jedi power, too, mon. I can use de Force to make stuff blow up! Dat's why dey call me Poof, mon.
7. My favorite drink is rum. It should be jah favorite too, mon.
8. Eh... well, maybe I could only tink o' seven tings mon. But jah should be happy wit' dat.

Now, what jah got ta make sure of is dat jah never try to wrestle wit' a Quermian contortionist. No bones means dat I could probably strangle jah wit' me own neck! Besides dat, dere ain't a lot jah got to know, except dat we can do voodoo.

*picks up doll*
Now, who's dis, mon?
*stabs the doll with a needle*
*a blood-curdling scream is heard from the background*
Ah, I thought it looked like Plo Koon...

De Force

2005-08-16T22:34:00.000-07:00

Jah know, de Force is like a song. Usin' it is like jammin' to dat song. When you be jammin', jah got to let de music flow through you, just like de Force. It helps to have music too when you be usin' de Force, mon.
See, de other Jedi, dey don't jam to de music much. Except Qui-Gon and Dooku. Now dey did some reighteous jammin' in dere time. But den Quiggy died and Dooku left to join de Sith. *Sigh*. Now Yoda, he don't never do any o' dat jammin' stuff. Sure, he got de whole "don' worry, be happy" ting down right, but he don't get de whole point o' jammin'.
Obi Wan, he goes to far. I say "hakuna matata", not "kahuna potato", jah hear what I'm sayin', mon?
De less said about Mace Windu de better.
Dat Ki Adi Mundi, he don't got no idea how to stop worryin' and just be happy, mon. Dignity don't got noting to do wit' de Force, mon.
Now, A-Dawg (I do speak gangsta-ese, but I'm a bit rusty, so don't jah go askin' me to translate for jah) he got it down okay, but only de "don' worry" part. He got way to much angst, mon. Sand-people-killin' angst, yah.

See, all you Padawans out dere, jah got to jam to de Force, mon. I'll be jammin' here if jah ever need me, mon.

We be jammin'

2005-08-15T22:21:00.000-07:00

Most o' de Jedi have gone to de Survivor: Tatooine show to compete. I've been left here, wit' a few others. And dey made me take care o' Yoda's class o' Younglings. I's not good, mon. But I discovered der dat dem Younglings don't play any kind o' musical instrument. Dere education is bein' neglected!
So I taught dem all to play de bongos. Dey ain't up to de standard of a good Quermian bongo-ist, and never will be wi'out reconstructive surgery to give dem extra arms, but dey're not bad for first-timers. I've tried to teach Ki Adi Mundi and Plo Koon de bongos before, but jah know, dey just can't get de hang of it. De secret is "don' worry, be happy". Us Jedi get special anti-angst trainin', so jah'd tink dat dey'd be good a dat, mon. But no.

Now, I got to go and drink me some rum.

Bongos and me

2005-08-14T21:34:00.000-07:00

I's a little known fact about us Quermians dat we all have a passion for de bongo drums. De secret is dat we got four arms, mon. Bet jah did'na know dat, huh? We usually have four-sleeved shirts, but de tailors at de Jedi Temple did'na like it at all. Jah also probably did'na know dat all de Jedi robes are made de same. Yoda had to cut his down so much, he could make a whole new spare robe! Anyway, de bongos. I play dem alone, since de other Jedi just don't get how to use dem properly. Yoda's all "Use the force you must, and spend less time working on your four-handed motor skills you should."
Which don't jam wit' me, mon.
Quermians can play four bongos at once, if we're really good. Some of us can even play five, usen de head to hit de fifth bongo. Get six of us in one place, and jah've got jahself a symphony orchestra. I should organise one o' dem sometime.

A Bongo is also a type of submarine common in Gungan civilization. Since they have little or no capacity to be used as a percussion instrument, it is not suggested that you try to use them in symphony orchestras.

Dem Blogger's Department don' know a ting about it, mon.

Hey dere, mon

2005-08-14T12:44:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my blog, here, mon. Jah can come as often as jah want to listen to my bongos, or some jedi sage advice. But I've got ta go now, Survivor: Tatooine's on and I don't want to miss it.

Don' worry: be happy!