“Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”
“Ohhh, I wish I had a credit for every time someone told me that.”
“No really. I need your help,” I pleaded. I could tell I was getting to him. My screeching little voice was working wonders on his hangover. “You’re the only Jedi I know who might stand a chance against this evil Ewok!”
“What about Master Windu?” Padmé suggested.
A moment passed as we all in turn looked at each other.
“BWAAAHAAAAHAAAHAAAHAAAHAAA!!!!!”
“Okay, seriously. There’s no one else. We need your help,” I pleaded once more.
“Very well. Give me a moment to clean up and put on a new robe.” Master Kenobi then hobbled into the bathroom where we soon heard violent retching in a toilet bowl for at least half an hour.
Padmé and myself had to wait in that flop house he calls a home with nothing to amuse ourselves with except Obi-Wan’s extensive collection of wrestling magazines. We both decided that it would be safer to watch the mold grow on the carpet in the corner.
When Master Kenobi finally emerged though, he was a new man.
"Wow, Obi…You clean up nicely.” Padmé said all cheery like.
“Well I am a rather highly respected Jedi Master.” His voice was deep and confident as he inspected his nails nonchalantly. Now it was my turn to find the toilet.
First stop was my apartment. We made it there pretty quick-like…even though Obi-Wan drives like a granny. Once there Master Kenobi drew his lightsaber and carefully inspected the rooms. Except for the trashed bedroom, everything else was fine. No Darth Wuv.
“Well, what ever happened…the little tikes gone now,” Kenobi declared confidently.
“Thanks for your amazing Jedi perception. I never would have guessed.”
“Hey, what are these videotapes over there…”
“Ahhhh, they’re nothing, Padmé. Just some old…eh…home movies and all. Anyway don’t you think we should be looking for clues.”
“No.” Obi-Wan stated. “I think it might be wiser if we searched your apartment for clues.” He then took out his official Scooby-do magnifying glass and started to poke about. I was beginning to wonder if Master Windu might not have been a bad choice.
Then suddenly Obi-Wan stooped down. “Ah HA!!!”
“What is it? What did you find? A clue?”
“No. An old Cheeto.” That could only mean one thing.”
“W-What?”
Munch…munch… “hmmm…it’s stale. So that means it must have been from your old homecoming party.”
This was getting us far. “Master Kenobi, I know you’re a big time Jedi Master and all…”
“Why thank you. I like to think so.” He checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
“But wouldn’t it be wiser to find out where this Darth Wuv came from? Who trained him? And more importantly why he wants to kill me?”
“And like, what’s with that prophecy he told our little J.J. What’s a Mad’da Ghast-Garr anyway?” Padmé piped in. I guess she felt she had to say something that sounded important.
“Hmmmm…” Obi-Wan stroked his beard. I could still see a few minute orange crumbs falling out. “I’ve never heard of undead Garrs before. Perhaps we should head over to the Jedi Temple Library. I’m sure they’ll have something good to look at.”
“Ah…you do know that like, they don’t have any comic books there, right?”
Obi-Wan gave Padmé a horrified look then quickly tried to hide it. “Right. Right. I knew that. We’re here to help J.J., remember. Let’s get over there quickly.”
“Shotgun!” Padmé yelled.
Great. I’m in the trunk again.
…To be continued.
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