Post by Blithian on Dec 12, 2011 11:44:57 GMT -5
Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, on the tiny planet of Tatooine, there lived, if indeed a ‘droid can be spoken of as living, a young sales ‘droid, or “drummer,” named RFD-2. His, if indeed a ‘droid can be spoken of as being male or female, erstwhile partner in sales was another ‘droid, who was called FMN-8, who was a true android (RFD-2 was not a true android, but more closely resembled a large canister vacuum than a person) and spoke many languages, which was extremely handy on a multi special, multiracial, multilingual planet like Tatooine.
One day, while they were far out in the vast desert of Tatooine, selling beads, blankets, and guns to the ferocious Tuskens, or Sand People, they heard a rumor from some Jawas that a great warrior had recently been born on their planet. According to the story, the child would become a great Jedi Knight and would help restore freedom to all the creatures of the galaxy.
“Come with us,” the Jawas jabbered to the two ‘droids in their native tongue, “We want to get on the good side of the great legendary warrior and his family, so we’re going to bring lots of gaudy and cheap gifts for him, and generally kiss up so when he comes to power, he’ll be on good terms with us.” This sounded like good politics to RFD-2 and FMN-8, so they gathered up some cheap gifts of their own and followed the Jawas’ gigantic ATV across the desert as it made for the nearest town, Mos Espa.
Jabba the Hutt, while dining on creatures even more repulsive then himself in his great desert castle, also heard the rumor of the recent birth of a great warrior, and being the great crime-lord of Tatooine, sent out his spies to search the planet for any news of this child. He instructed his lieutenant, Bib Fortuna, to bring the child to him as soon as it could be found. A Jedi Knight would make a powerful “enforcer” in Jabba’s crime family and the Great Slug vowed he would raise this child to do his bidding.
As it happened, this was the year of the Great Galactic Census, and all the inhabited planets of the galaxy were instructed to list the names of all individuals of any race more intelligent than a doorstop. To accomplish this, officials were sent to all the major cities on each planet, and all the inhabitants were ordered by the Emperor to travel to the nearest city to register for the census.
On such a mission, traveling to the port city of Mos Espa, was the Lars family, Owen and Beru, with their adopted infant son Luke. They were poor-but-honest farmers, with a barely profitable underground ranch a hundred kliks from the nearest paved road. Only a few months earlier, Owen’s brother, the aging Jedi known as Obi-Wan, or sometimes, Ben Kenobi, had given them the infant Luke to raise as their own, in secret.
Now, as they approached the famous port city of Mos Espa, they saw that the streets were so crowded with the influx of creatures from all over that only those riding giant saurapods could negotiate their way through the city with any ease, and that only because the saurapods stepped on and crushed anything smaller and unfortunate enough to be in their paths. Since Owen and Beru, with little Luke, only had an aging and sway-backed snarg (a small camel-like creature with no hump) to carry their belongings, they had to be especially careful to avoid the moving tree-trunks the huge saurapods had for legs and feet.
At last they arrived at Mos Espa’s famous Mon Ticarlo Casino and Hotel, but were told there were no suites available for low-life farm trash. Other fancy digs gave similar responses to the grungy family of back-country rubes. Even the not-so-fancy places turned them down flat, as the city was full of visitors in for the census. Eventually they found themselves outside the infamous Mos Eisley Cantina, in which all the meanest, toughest, crookedest space captains in the galaxy seemed to congregate for drinks, fights, gambling, illegal deals, smuggling, and a few minutes of sincere love and devotion. Even here, they were told to go around to the back.
At long last, they curled up for the night amid piles of old boxes, barrels, and garbage in back of the cantina.
Meanwhile, inside the cantina, a slight altercation between a couple of Rodian smugglers and a Devaronian methane addict was evolving into a mass brawl, as Snivvians, Morserians, and assorted Humanoids joined in the fray, and various limbs and appendages began cluttering up the already messy floor. One such appendage was the large hydrogen sac of a Gnemesian copilot now serving as a floor mat. Being lighter than air, this glowing phosphorescent globe floated out through a blast-hole in a wall and slowly rose straight up into the night until it reached a point of atmospheric balance several hundred feet directly over the cantina, just above the surface winds and below the higher currents. And there it hung, like a glowing star, visible for twenty kliks around.
Out in the desert, several travelers became suddenly aware of this curious phenomena, including the Jawas in their 50-foot-tall ATV, the two ‘droids, RFD-2 and FMN-8, and a group of pig-faced Gamorrean guards on patrol outside Jabba the Hutt’s palace. The Jawas and the ‘droids took it as some sort of divine indicator of the location of the newborn Jedi. The Gamorreans just took it as something to investigate before reporting to their master, Jabba the Hutt. All three groups began heading directly toward the glowing star-like item in the sky, which meant they were all heading directly toward Mos Espa and, more particularly, the Mos Eisley Cantina.
Back in the storage area beneath the cantina, Owen Lars, with his wife Beru and adopted infant son, Luke, were awakened from a sound sleep by subtle noises. They opened their unbelieving eyes to find they were entirely surrounded by a mixed host of creatures, all shushing each other to be quiet.
Owen jumped to his feet and grabbed a nearby fragment of wood with which to defend himself and his family. “Who - who are you?” he stammered, “What do you want?”
“We are here to honor the newborn Jedi,” proclaimed the rat-faced leader of a dozen Rodians. “We have gifts,” added a particularly repulsive Snivvian, proving his point by shoving a leather box toward the family. “Yes, gifts for the young Jedi!” chimed in a chorus of voices ranging from ear-splitting shrieks to basso-profundoid rumblings.
Before Owen or Beru could protest, a sizable pile of gifts began to grow before them. There was a jewelry box full of beautiful aggies, glassies, and steelies; there was another box which apparently held dozens of magic little moons, stars, and clovers guarded by the spirit of a leprechaun; and a leather bag filled to the brim with lead slugs the exact size and weight of the Tatooine bicentennial quarter.
Following the glowing globe in the sky and the two-foot deep tracks of the Jawa’s ATV, RFD-2 and FMN-8 had at last entered the city and were making their way toward the Mos Eisley Cantina. Ahead of them were teeming throngs, some wearing steaming thongs, also making their way toward the place in which they were supposed to find the newborn Jedi Knight.
The Jawas had to abandon their massive ATV at the city gates as it was much too large to negotiate the streets of the city, and, moreover, its huge treads had gotten curiously clogged with the remains of a bunch of Gamorrean guardsmen. Now they were pushing and shoving their way through the crowd, trying to get to the Jedi’s family. At last they were able to present the family with three ten-year-old, hopelessly-out-of-date computers with single-digit software, and an entertainment ‘droid made of the finest plastic and apparently called “Hasbro.”
The surprised little family of desert farmers was surrounded by hundreds of gifts of all shapes and sizes, and they were as pleased as they were puzzled. At first they had assumed the gift-givers had merely confused them with some other, more worthy family, but as the pile of offerings immensified, they began to realize that all the goodies really were for them.
At long last it was the ‘droids’ turn, so they stepped forward. Suddenly they realized that the gifts they had brought were insignificant compared to some of those already topping the pile. “We have nothing worthy of the newborn Jedi,” wept FMN-8, dropping his packages to the ground, and RFD-2 whistled and hooted his affirmation, dropping his own gifts. “I know what,” he beeped and hooted, “We can sing a great song of praise - well, I can whistle and toot and you can translate!” “Brilliant idea,” lauded FMN-8, “Let’s sing together now!”
The unbelievable cacophony of strange sounds, ranging from the “chrrrrrrrrrrrrk” of fingernails on a blackboard, to the deafening roars of a dozen krayt dragons afflicted with violent diarrhea, sent every creature cursed with ears fleeing in panic from the city, all, that is, except the two ‘droids, who now stood alone in the midst of a huge cloud of dust caused by the hasty retreat of everything else.
“Was it something I said?” asked RFD-2 innocently.....
-0-
One day, while they were far out in the vast desert of Tatooine, selling beads, blankets, and guns to the ferocious Tuskens, or Sand People, they heard a rumor from some Jawas that a great warrior had recently been born on their planet. According to the story, the child would become a great Jedi Knight and would help restore freedom to all the creatures of the galaxy.
“Come with us,” the Jawas jabbered to the two ‘droids in their native tongue, “We want to get on the good side of the great legendary warrior and his family, so we’re going to bring lots of gaudy and cheap gifts for him, and generally kiss up so when he comes to power, he’ll be on good terms with us.” This sounded like good politics to RFD-2 and FMN-8, so they gathered up some cheap gifts of their own and followed the Jawas’ gigantic ATV across the desert as it made for the nearest town, Mos Espa.
Jabba the Hutt, while dining on creatures even more repulsive then himself in his great desert castle, also heard the rumor of the recent birth of a great warrior, and being the great crime-lord of Tatooine, sent out his spies to search the planet for any news of this child. He instructed his lieutenant, Bib Fortuna, to bring the child to him as soon as it could be found. A Jedi Knight would make a powerful “enforcer” in Jabba’s crime family and the Great Slug vowed he would raise this child to do his bidding.
As it happened, this was the year of the Great Galactic Census, and all the inhabited planets of the galaxy were instructed to list the names of all individuals of any race more intelligent than a doorstop. To accomplish this, officials were sent to all the major cities on each planet, and all the inhabitants were ordered by the Emperor to travel to the nearest city to register for the census.
On such a mission, traveling to the port city of Mos Espa, was the Lars family, Owen and Beru, with their adopted infant son Luke. They were poor-but-honest farmers, with a barely profitable underground ranch a hundred kliks from the nearest paved road. Only a few months earlier, Owen’s brother, the aging Jedi known as Obi-Wan, or sometimes, Ben Kenobi, had given them the infant Luke to raise as their own, in secret.
Now, as they approached the famous port city of Mos Espa, they saw that the streets were so crowded with the influx of creatures from all over that only those riding giant saurapods could negotiate their way through the city with any ease, and that only because the saurapods stepped on and crushed anything smaller and unfortunate enough to be in their paths. Since Owen and Beru, with little Luke, only had an aging and sway-backed snarg (a small camel-like creature with no hump) to carry their belongings, they had to be especially careful to avoid the moving tree-trunks the huge saurapods had for legs and feet.
At last they arrived at Mos Espa’s famous Mon Ticarlo Casino and Hotel, but were told there were no suites available for low-life farm trash. Other fancy digs gave similar responses to the grungy family of back-country rubes. Even the not-so-fancy places turned them down flat, as the city was full of visitors in for the census. Eventually they found themselves outside the infamous Mos Eisley Cantina, in which all the meanest, toughest, crookedest space captains in the galaxy seemed to congregate for drinks, fights, gambling, illegal deals, smuggling, and a few minutes of sincere love and devotion. Even here, they were told to go around to the back.
At long last, they curled up for the night amid piles of old boxes, barrels, and garbage in back of the cantina.
Meanwhile, inside the cantina, a slight altercation between a couple of Rodian smugglers and a Devaronian methane addict was evolving into a mass brawl, as Snivvians, Morserians, and assorted Humanoids joined in the fray, and various limbs and appendages began cluttering up the already messy floor. One such appendage was the large hydrogen sac of a Gnemesian copilot now serving as a floor mat. Being lighter than air, this glowing phosphorescent globe floated out through a blast-hole in a wall and slowly rose straight up into the night until it reached a point of atmospheric balance several hundred feet directly over the cantina, just above the surface winds and below the higher currents. And there it hung, like a glowing star, visible for twenty kliks around.
Out in the desert, several travelers became suddenly aware of this curious phenomena, including the Jawas in their 50-foot-tall ATV, the two ‘droids, RFD-2 and FMN-8, and a group of pig-faced Gamorrean guards on patrol outside Jabba the Hutt’s palace. The Jawas and the ‘droids took it as some sort of divine indicator of the location of the newborn Jedi. The Gamorreans just took it as something to investigate before reporting to their master, Jabba the Hutt. All three groups began heading directly toward the glowing star-like item in the sky, which meant they were all heading directly toward Mos Espa and, more particularly, the Mos Eisley Cantina.
Back in the storage area beneath the cantina, Owen Lars, with his wife Beru and adopted infant son, Luke, were awakened from a sound sleep by subtle noises. They opened their unbelieving eyes to find they were entirely surrounded by a mixed host of creatures, all shushing each other to be quiet.
Owen jumped to his feet and grabbed a nearby fragment of wood with which to defend himself and his family. “Who - who are you?” he stammered, “What do you want?”
“We are here to honor the newborn Jedi,” proclaimed the rat-faced leader of a dozen Rodians. “We have gifts,” added a particularly repulsive Snivvian, proving his point by shoving a leather box toward the family. “Yes, gifts for the young Jedi!” chimed in a chorus of voices ranging from ear-splitting shrieks to basso-profundoid rumblings.
Before Owen or Beru could protest, a sizable pile of gifts began to grow before them. There was a jewelry box full of beautiful aggies, glassies, and steelies; there was another box which apparently held dozens of magic little moons, stars, and clovers guarded by the spirit of a leprechaun; and a leather bag filled to the brim with lead slugs the exact size and weight of the Tatooine bicentennial quarter.
Following the glowing globe in the sky and the two-foot deep tracks of the Jawa’s ATV, RFD-2 and FMN-8 had at last entered the city and were making their way toward the Mos Eisley Cantina. Ahead of them were teeming throngs, some wearing steaming thongs, also making their way toward the place in which they were supposed to find the newborn Jedi Knight.
The Jawas had to abandon their massive ATV at the city gates as it was much too large to negotiate the streets of the city, and, moreover, its huge treads had gotten curiously clogged with the remains of a bunch of Gamorrean guardsmen. Now they were pushing and shoving their way through the crowd, trying to get to the Jedi’s family. At last they were able to present the family with three ten-year-old, hopelessly-out-of-date computers with single-digit software, and an entertainment ‘droid made of the finest plastic and apparently called “Hasbro.”
The surprised little family of desert farmers was surrounded by hundreds of gifts of all shapes and sizes, and they were as pleased as they were puzzled. At first they had assumed the gift-givers had merely confused them with some other, more worthy family, but as the pile of offerings immensified, they began to realize that all the goodies really were for them.
At long last it was the ‘droids’ turn, so they stepped forward. Suddenly they realized that the gifts they had brought were insignificant compared to some of those already topping the pile. “We have nothing worthy of the newborn Jedi,” wept FMN-8, dropping his packages to the ground, and RFD-2 whistled and hooted his affirmation, dropping his own gifts. “I know what,” he beeped and hooted, “We can sing a great song of praise - well, I can whistle and toot and you can translate!” “Brilliant idea,” lauded FMN-8, “Let’s sing together now!”
The unbelievable cacophony of strange sounds, ranging from the “chrrrrrrrrrrrrk” of fingernails on a blackboard, to the deafening roars of a dozen krayt dragons afflicted with violent diarrhea, sent every creature cursed with ears fleeing in panic from the city, all, that is, except the two ‘droids, who now stood alone in the midst of a huge cloud of dust caused by the hasty retreat of everything else.
“Was it something I said?” asked RFD-2 innocently.....
-0-
and 
all
time for me 
echoes, hope you all are doing well 
