Mondays with Dooku: Reflections

Oh my, does it ever feel good to be free. That’s correct. Due to the remarkable legal abilities of Jo Jo, our barrister, we have managed to prove our innocence and escape that hell hole of a prison once and for all. Who knew dead monkeyboys were so well versed in the law?

But you need not listen to my prattlings, all can be read about it here, and quite well done too, if I may say so.

And after finishing up some…eh …loose ends, shall we say, Qui Gon and I are back at his fine penthouse domicile once more. All though, there are still some sticky matters for him to clean up yet. The most prominent one is the fact that their brownie making abilities are halted until a new spice permit could be acquired. This, of course, can not transpire until both Qui Gon and J.J. are present, and at present the jawa is still locked in the Big Brother house. So until then…no more brownies.

Very discouraging for them…but very profitable for myself. McDooku’s is doing a stupendous business and profits are through the roof. I hate to be benefiting from my old padawan’s misfortune…but I am a card carrying Sith Lord after all.

Now unfortunately, my time in prison has left me in a bit of a disheveled state. With no proper grooming instruments or adequate clothes I have seemed to have let myself go, as they say. …As you can see here in this picture the day I was released.

Now the first thing you might say is, “Oh Dooku, what has happened to that fine head of hair of yours?” Well you would be surprised to know that this isn’t the first time I have had a rather…how should I say…bad hair day. It seems looking through old yearbooks of mine of my school days of youth I have had even worse hair. Would you like to see what I looked like then? I must tell you now, it’s none too pleasant.

I still don’t quite understand what I was voted for, but oh well.

Prison has also made me a bit…testy, it seems. And I fear it is high time to do a bit of Jedi smiting. But with so many Jedi running around these days, I’m having a bit of trouble deciding who I should go after?

Should I go and smite…

Obi-Wan Kenobi? After all, he’s British and his arrogant manner is rather peeving. But I’m not sure if it would be a fair fight. He has let himself go these days and besides, I would hate to get Cheeto stains on my cape.

Mace Windu? Here’s another easy mark. All I need to do is throw some force lightning in his face and he will cry like a babe. For those of you who are unaware, force lightning dries out the skin oh so terribly and produced deep wrinkles.

Ki-Mundy? Or ol moon head as we once called him. He is getting on in years and I swear his chin is getting to be the size of a small speeder. A rather easy mark I must say.

Anakin Skywalker? Now here’s a beastly chap. Almost makes me wish he were on the dark side. A lot of anger in this one. But unfortunately a lot of arrogance too. And one sith lord with arrogance is all I can handle. And besides, he should be smited simply for the fact that he doesn’t even speak proper Queen’s English.

Or there is always Master Yoda? We have yet to conclusively determine just who the better of us is. And I hear he is soaking his bunions for the next few days. This would be an excellent time for a surprise attack on the old chap.

Oh well, I’ll have another cup of tea and mull it over for now.

Cheerio!

Guest Poster-Dooku: An Urgent Message

(Continued from here)

Hello again. Dooku here.

I know what you’re thinking. This isen’t Monday. Why in the world would this handsome chap be writing in his weekly post twice in one week?

Normally I wouldn’t. The prison guards keep us quite busy with activities like baton dodgeball and surprise strip searches, but there does seem to be a bit of an emergency that has cropped up.

As you know, my padawan Qui-Gon and I got ourselves in a bit of trouble with the law, thus the unfortunate room accommodations. Qui-Gon himself seems to be in even more dire straights, having his ghost like particles stuffed in a security box with the only mode of conversation being his incessant tapping. Normally I would free the ol chap, but the lock-down box is…well…locked. Not even the use of the force will allow me to open it up. Pity.

It seems our only mode of rescue lies in retrieving the spice permit that the jawa keeps on his person. Unfortunately, I am stuck here in prison and can’t go to meet Master J.J.

I’ve tried contacting my master, Sidious, but it seems he’s been locked in budget meetings all week. You would think he was trying to avoid me or something.

I then came to mind a brilliant notion. Someone, actually. Someone who knows this jawa and would be very amiable to meeting with him secretly and retrieving said permit. Someone with devotion and skills of stealth. Someone who would work quite cheaply.

The F.O.O.F. men!!!

I made a quick call and they were all too eager to take up the cause. I made sure they understood the need to be undercover and use subtlety. They assured me that they would not attract attention.

Eh…I’m beginning to have my doubts.

Frack: Don’t worry, Count. We’ll sneak in that house, find J.J. and get the papers like the wind.

Frick: I’m a pirate. Arrrg!

(To be continued in F.O.O.F. this weekend)

Mondays with Dooku: Doing Time

Good day.

Well, actually it isn’t so good. In fact, it’s downright awful. I can’t talk long either. As you can see, I’m in prison. Now you may ask yourself, is it because I lead the separatist movement against senate? Is it because I am a Sith lord? Oh no. None of those things. It seems some one dispatched the local authorities on Qui-Gon and myself for possession of spiced brownies without a permit…or at least one that was readily available. It seems Master J.J. has the permit but he’s locked up in the Big Brother house. Or so I am lead to believe. It’s all rather confusing to me, actually.

Now I am stuck here, incarcerated with my old padawan, and forced to eat what barely passes for edible food while spending day after mindless day locked in a room that somehow is also my toilet. Uh…how revolting.

But I decided to try and make the best of it. While Qui-gon is trying to procure an attorney, I thought I would try to sell my story to the local papers. Unfortunately, by the looks of the first installment, it does seem like they some what missed the mark a bit.

I mean really. All that is is just scandalous journalistic fluff. They’ve totally revamped my story to make it look all tawdry.

Well, I’m being told by the guard that I have to hang up now. Hopefully by next week I’ll be out of this horrific place.

Well…ta-ta for now. I need to get back to my cell. My cell mate gets a bit anxious for some reason if I’m gone for too long.

Mondays with Dooku: The Fine Art of Chess and Smiting Yoda

Good morning all. It seems that I have been keeping myself quite busy familiarizing myself with my old songs. Quite exhilarating, I must say. But it appears there is some ‘unfinished business’ I must attend to before I can fully devote my time to my music. That unfinished business? Why Yoda, of course.

It seems our last battle ended a bit prematurely without a clear winner. I intend to remedy that now.

I sallied forth a challenge to the old Jedi Master and would you know it, he agreed. This time it was my turn to name the conditions of battle and seeing my opportunity, I made for my advantage.

The battle will be decided like civilized people…over a game of chess.

The moment I declared my intentions, I could see Master Yoda begin to sweat. And with good reason. The little guy has not a shred of chess skill...or patients in him. With my superior chess knowhow, I will break his will.

Oddly, he accepted without delay.

We met at the local Howard Johnsons and set up the board. Master Yoda arrived late as usual.

“What’s the matter, ol chap? Were you having cold feet?”

“Cold feet, I do not have. For my bantha, a parking space I had to find. Parked in the handicap zone, finally I did. Because of my bunions, allowed am I.”

“Yes well, enough of the chit-chat, old chap. It is time that I give you the crushing defeat you so richly deserve.”

“Your butt-cheeks, the only thing you will be crushing, when serve you your defeat, I do.”

And so the contest began. It wasn’t long before I had cleared off half of his pieces including his queen. The Jedi Master was a worse chess player than I thought. This was almost too easy. Of course that didn’t stop me from cornering his king.

“Ahhh…I think I have you in two more moves, my old friend. Are you sure you don’t want to give up now and avoid any further public humiliation?”

“Give up, I will not. Almost have you, I do.”

I looked at the board stunned. “I…don’t see how that is possible, Master Yoda. You only have a knight and two pawns while I have almost all my pieces left. Your king is hopelessly cornered. I’m afraid you are in a bit of a pickle, old chum.”

“What the-?”

It was that damnable bantha just on the other side of the wall. Curse my luck!

Oh, the stench!