Thursday, September 08, 2005

This ol' Hole

Time to get this ol place in order.

I haven’t had much time to clean up the pad since that crazed Sith ewok trashed it. What a mess. I would have liked to fix it up myself. We Jawas are pretty good with our hands. –And no, not just picking pockets either. But with my hosting demands and a snack empire to control, I just don’t have the time.

So I got my local Coruscant Yellow Pages and let my stubby fingers to the walking. Who would have thought there were so many redecorating contactors? So I did what most people do; closed my flashlight eyes and picked.

…I think that may have been a mistake.

It wasn’t until late in the evening that the F.O.O.F. Redecorating Inc. people came. Let me tell you, they didn’t exactly inspire confidence.









Their names were Frick and Frack. I didn’t bother to ask which one was which, but they assured me they would fix up the apartment good as new.

They started in the bedroom where they immediately connected the pluming pipes to the lava lamps. Needless to say, those floating globules will never be the same. Next they rewired the toilet to a Clapper™. I suppose I could see some advantages to that. But then they tore down the wall from the kitchen to the study and hung a towel over the hole. This was quickly followed by another hole from the living room straight to the outside. They then took my severed bed and stapled it to the wall where they proceeded to delicately hang tensile over it.

By the time they made the blender into a bidet, I had to stop them.

“What are you doing?” I yelled at them. “This place is a mess. How is this helping?”

I must have startled them because they just stared at me like frozen hamsters. “Okay! What’s the deal here? Are you guys really redecorators?”

“Oh sure! Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, sure, ya, ya, uh-hu, sure, yup, ya, absolutely.”

“………really?”

“…………no. Not really. We were purposely wasting your time.”

“Then why does your add say you’re redecorators?”

“It doesn’t. It says F.O.O.F. Recruiters Inc.”

Hastily I flipped open the yellow pages and took a second gander. Sure enough, that’s what it said. I think I need new lenses for my eyes. “So…what are you guys then? What’s F.O.O.F.”

“Why, that’s our organization,” replied Frack.

“We’re the ‘Followers Of Ol’ Fluke’. Can’t you tell by our nifty blast helmets?”

“y-you mean…Fluke Starbucker?”

“You’re darn-tootin! He’s got a huge following. And whoever doesn’t want to follow in his fancy footsteps…well, we come around and try to recruit them into our club. So you wanna join up?”

I smack my head in disbelief.

“Oooo! Look, Frick! He already knows the secret handshake! All right, buddy, you’re in!”

Great! The place looks worse than it started…but at least I got this cool plastic F.O.O.F. secret decoder ring.

7 comments:

Master Yoda said...

Next time, call Boba Vee'la from This Old Hutt, you should.

Qui-Gon Jinn said...

no...
oh sweet force, no...
Not my LAVA LAMPS!!
They didn't trash, like, the vinyl, did they?
QGJ

flu said...

8-O

*whisper* omg please don't tell 'em where I live. */whisper*

...and HEY, is that MY secret decoder ring?!? Gimme!

Those losers.

Jo Jo The Monkeyboy's Ghost said...

Howya doin' Bwauth?

That sounds almost exactly like my place, just put a tire swing in the bedroom!

jedisiri said...

losers.*nod* TOO bad.

Leia said...

Posers.

Fluke, you should start your own cult.

Jo Jo The Monkeyboy's Ghost said...

Howya doin' buauth!

Thanks for the swell car, little monkey buddy!

It sure is sweet!

Get it? Hoo hoo hoo ha ha hah hah!