17 September, 2005

Cheeto Haze

Recently, I've been busy. I've been fighting dead Jedi Masters and whacked out Jawa, trying to understand certain stereotypical Hutt, and teaching the wisdom of the Nuteye Knights. None of this compelling adventure could prepare me for my greatest challenge yet; facing my former Padawan.
After me and JJ's swinging bachelor pad was, like, ruined by a certain fuzzy Sith Lord and 'remodeled,' and I use that term with much sarcasm, by the FOOF'ers, we had to find a place to crash. Seeing my room all, like, trashed was, like, a real bring down. I was just lucky to be able to save my plants. I've left my babies to Yoda to tend to. He's green. He should be able to handle my menagerie.
I told JJ that Obi would put us up for sure. He'd listen to his Master. That is, he would have, if he'd, like, been able to hear me.
We packed up whatever we needed (poncho, Funyuns, some choice vinyl, brownies, and some... other... stuff...). You can actually smell Obi's flat from down the hall. It's that smell that, well, like, have you ever dropped a Cheeto on the ground and left it or a few days? Then you go back and eat it? It smelled just like what you ralph up after that, man. And frog for some reason.
We stood there, cargo in tow, with bells on, well, bell = cowbell. JJ knocked.
There was this shuffling sound, beer bottles clinking, frogs croaking, belching, scratching, and crunching over the sound of wrestling on the telly.
The door opened.
I was, like, not ready for that. I thought for a split second that there was a Gamorean guard there, instead of my former Padawan. My brain shut down for a moment. I just, like, stood there and blinked. "Obi-Wan?"
He was probably nearing, like, 300 pounds. His red hair was more orange and his skin was covered in a greasy orange sheen. Even his tighty whities were an off-orange, and it looked as though the stubborn understains were the only thing that held them together. The only way that I knew this was in fat Obi-Wan and not some galoot or lummox, was Obi's eyes. They were glazed over and bloodshot, sure, but it was Obi, man.
He ran a greasy hand over his orange beard, a puff of Cheeto dust wafted out. With a puzzled look, he glanced left and right. "...duh, huh?"
"Down here, Obi." JJ had a hand clapped to his face, in a futile gesture to filter out some of the orange powder than began to settle on his cloak.
"Well, kiss mah grits! JJ! How you doin', you ol' JawaJuice?" Obviously, Obi-Wan had been far too much Mama's Family. His glazed eyes brightened and he held out a sticky hand. It, like glowed neon lava-lamp lava orange.
JJ, like, shuddered, visibly. He touched a finger to the centre of Obi's palm, but was suddenly swept up into a big bear hug. He was pressed against the grimy rolls of lard at Obi's belly, which was, like, gag worthy, man. When Obi let go, JJ slid down his front, adhering to the funk coating Obi's body.
I helped JJ to regain his bearings and used a bit of the Force to stop him from melfing.
"What can ah do fer ya'?" I caught a glance of Obi's teeth and a trickle of terror ran through me. They were that of the Sith. Sith teeth, only orange.
"We, like, need a place to stay, man." My bell jingled as I spoke.
"JJ," Obi said, eyes wide, "I don't want to be alarmin' ya', but there's a disembodied poncho with a cowbell behind ya'."
"That's Qu- Wait. You can't see him. Oh, no. No. This is some horrid situation comedy and I am just about sick of playing the sidekick." JJ turned to me, his Jawa eyes looking glowy and miffed. "He can't see you. That means I get to play narrator to some big bumbling oaf and the dead. This is not my idea for a good weekend, buddy."
That was a bummer. "That's a bummer, man," I said, as it was a bummer. "We don't have much choice. I don't, like, have any bread, man. It's either this or Motel 66."
"Isn't that where those Jedi were backstabbed by an army of clones and slaughtered?"
Obi looked confused. The shell of filth on his mustache visibly cracked, "What?!"
JJ turned to him. "Sorry. Me and Qui need a place to stay."
"Master Qui-Gon? He ain't here. Just you and that scary floatin' poncho."
I reached out with a touch of the Living Force and tapped Obi-Wan's mind. "Obi. Man. Like, we need your help..."
I was interrupted by a voice. "We're sorry, the Jedi you are trying to reach *burp* Obi-W,Wan Kenobi is no longer in tune with the Force. Please try back later."
I sighed. "Oh man, he can't see or, like, hear me."
JJ asked Obi, "You really can't see Qui-Gon behind me?"
Obi shook his head. "Qui-Gon ain't here. All I see is that floating poncho and the bell. That sure is a nifty trick there, JJ."
"All right, Obi-Wan," JJ said, running his hand over his face, "Qui-Gon is here with me. What can we say to convince you of that?"
"Call him Oafy-Wan." That was Obi's nickname when he was growing up.
JJ did so. "Oafy-Wan."
Obi smiled. "Huh huh. Git 'er done! Everybody calls me Oafy-Wan! I even gets junk mail to that there name."
JJ glanced over at me, looking shocked and more than a little, like, majorly miffed.
So what would Obi remember? Something that was just between the two of us. "Tell him that I used to sing Golden Slumbers to him whenever he had a bad dream." Yeah, I did that, man. When he was just a little Padawan, he used to have these awful night terrors. He'd wake up screaming almost every night. He'd only calm down and fall back to sleep when I sang to him.
"You sang to him? This is a crap sitcom, I swear! The studio audience should be going 'aww' right now then to be followed by a one line zinger by yours truly! Not gonna happen!"
Obi tensed a bit and gave a the Rock eyebrow quirk. "Uh, he did sing to me."
JJ shook his head. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Golden Slumbers, I know. I'm thinking Motel 66 will be better than enduring this and we haven't stepped foot in the door."
"Golden Slumbers..." Obi stood still, lost. He shook his head.
"Yes. Can we come in? I really need to use the little Jawa's room."
Obi snapped out of it and a sudden smile broke over his Cheeto covered features. He looked like a near naked, grimy, orange Saa'nta Clus, the jolly old holiday gift Master. "C'mon in! I gots Cheetos and beer and wrasslin'!"
Well, at the first glance, I knew what I'd be doing for the next few days. I vowed to clean every inch of Obi's flat, bit by bit.
After GWOotOfWitG Wresting ended, somewhere after 2 am, JJ had retired to his sink. Obi was asleep on the couch, one orange hand clutching the remote, the other in an empty bag of Cheetos. I was given to option to sleep in the pantry, but as it was filled with cases of Ol' Mos Eisley beer and bags of Cheetos, I passed on that. Thanks, but, like, no thanks, man..
He started dreaming, in that kicking, mumbling, drooling sort of way.
I was able to make out something along the lines of, "Mace as Happy McBurgerbra is a sin against nature," "I wanna drink from the fire hose," and something about Anakin's pop album. It had been a long time since I'd seen it, but I knew Obi was starting into a night terror.
By using a bit of the Living Force into a Mind Trick, I linked into Obi's head. What a mess. There was Cheeto dust in his thoughts, but it was darker, like Cheeto dust that was in the shade, or something.
Once there was a way to get back homeward
Once there was a way to get back home
Sleep little Jedi do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby
Golden Slumbers fill your eyes
Smiles awake when you rise
Sleep little Jedi do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby

He calmed and fell back asleep.
Things just got too serious in my head. I needed some alone time, so I slipped outside to meditate. And eat like a pound of brownies.


At 3:12 pm, Blogger JawaJuice said...

Thanks for clarifying the situation, QGJ. You’re the best! I know I didn’t go into much detail myself…it’s just that that first day there kinda freaked me out. You’re all heart, Mr. Jinn. I’m glad to call you my partner…and my friend.

Oh, and also…
I was interrupted by a voice. "We're sorry, the Jedi you are trying to reach *burp* Obi-W,Wan Kenobi is no longer in tune with the Force. Please try back later."
Had me spewing my morning coffee in fits of laughter.
…eh…that’s a good thing, by the way.

At 3:41 pm, Blogger Shannon said...

I could send some handmaidens over to help clean. They're good with that sort of thing. And one of them thinks Obi-Wan is kinda cute {shudder}.

At 4:13 pm, Blogger JawaJuice said...

Maybe I will stick around a while longer.

At 4:56 am, Blogger Qui-Gon Jinn said...

Uh, like, Padme, do any of your, like, handmaidens have Haz-Mat training?

At 5:59 am, Blogger jedisiri said...

wow...i think you better fire the girl,padme.she's kinda..er..have problem mentally.*nod*

At 10:27 pm, Blogger Leia said...

Ooh! Take his Cheetos away!

At 5:13 am, Blogger Captain Typho said...

Please don't send the handmaidens over there, Padmé. They always complain to me first before they complain to you.

At 10:49 pm, Blogger Adi Gallia said...

Oh my god, I didn't realize Obi-Wan was so far gone. That must have been a huge shock. I feel for you. I freaked out when I saw Siri with purple streaks in her hair during that Gothic time she went through after she was promoted to a Knight. But no longer in tune with the force is even more devestating.

At 1:15 am, Blogger Anakin Skywalker said...

Bein in there is like feelin a million voices suddenly cryin out in terror an then suddenly farting.


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