DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
“I am just going to walk very, very slowly and gradually raise my voice to alert you of my presence so as not to cause you any undue stress.”
You lean back in your lounge chair out in the garden and say, “Don’t worry about it, I heard your voice out in the hall.”
Obi-Wan pulls a chair over from one of the tables. “Well, you are a mystery to me. Sometimes you look very intent and focused, as you did just now, but you are fully aware of your surroundings. Other times, you seem more relaxed, and then I end up taking a few years off of your life.” He sits down in the chair and continues, “Should I ever have a padawan, I will provide special teachings regarding obsessed, tormented writers…that is, if I ever figure you out.”
You look at him with a silly grin for a moment, surprised at his spontaneous chattiness. “Make that neurotic, obsessed, tormented, chocolate-craving, female writers.”
“Perhaps it is better left a mystery,” he says.
“A good choice,” you say.
“You could, of course, explain it to me,” he says.
“No can do,” you say.
His face drops slightly. “Why not?”
“Cuz I don’t get it either,” you say.
“I see.”
“Everyone else…I’ve got ‘em figured out. Me?” You wave your hand at him, “Fuhgettaboutit.”
He smiles and says, “You are feeling well?”
“Yes, I’m good. Just a little headache, but no big deal,” you say. “And yourself?”
“Oh, very well,” he says enthusiastically.
“Win the lotto or something?”
“Pardon?”
“Why so gleeful?”
“Ah,” he says. “I have something for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes,” he says with a grin. He reaches into a pouch on his belt and pulls out a piece of paper and begins to unfold it. “I made a list.”
“A list? What, you goin’ grocery shopping?”
“You told me to make a list of things I want to do. So here it is,” he says, handing it to you.
“Oh!” You take it from him and say, “I’m so proud of you.” You begin to look at it but then turn it down. “You probably don’t really want me to read it, though.”
“Of course I do. That’s why I made you a copy,” he says.
You giggle. “This…is my copy?”
“Yes. You initiated this activity. I thought you should have a copy,” he says.
“Oh…well…I’m flattered.” You start to look at it again and then stop. “There isn’t anything really embarrassing on here like Jell-O wrestling or a bug squashing fetish, is there?”
“Just read it,” he says a little impatiently.
“Alright.” You clear your throat and announce, “Number one—“
“Not so loud,” he says.
“Oh, sorry,” you say sheepishly. It is late morning, and there are most likely plenty of ears about. “Number one,” you whisper.
“Stop it.”
You chuckle. “Sorry, OK. Seriously now. Number one—“
“And these are in no particular order of preference,” he says.
“Alright, already. Number one….” You look down at the list and grin. “A birthday party. Now that we can do. Two days and counting.”
“Actually,” he says, “we can’t actually do that.”
“Why not?”
“We have to leave tomorrow morning,” he says.
“Oh. Well, we’ll just postpone it. Do it when you get back,” you say.
He gives you a lopsided grin and says, “Alright then.”
You give him a sideways glance, “You sure you haven’t been into the Prozac this morning?”
He wrinkles his brow in confusion and says, “Just continue, please.”
“Sure. Alright, number two….new clothes,” you say with a laugh.
“I thought it might be a good idea,” he says.
“What do Jedi’s wear besides those jammie things?”
“These are not pajamas!”
You put your hands up, “Alright, alright…don’t get testy.”
“Hence, my desire to buy new clothes. I do not socialize a great deal, but when I do it would be nice to have something else to wear….whatever that might be,” he says, sounding a little overwhelmed at the prospect.
“Go with black,” you say. “Can’t go wrong with black. Dressy, yet casual. Very slimming. Goes with everything. I’m a big fan of black.”
“Yes, I noticed,” he says. “Perhaps you should consider—“
“Hey, this is about you, remember?”
“Right,” he says. “Please, go on.”
“Number three…N-S-G. N-S-G?” You look up at him and see a slightly nervous expression on his face. “N-S-G??” His cheeks turn a pale shade of pink. “Ah-ha!!” You start to laugh and then lower your voice. “Naughty School Girl.”
“Well….” He shifts around in his chair. “You said to write everything down.”
“Yes…yes, I did. And, as Oprah says, the whole of creation begins with a thought. The thought forms a word – or in this case, the written word – and the word brings forth the action.”
“Yes…well…in any case….”
You nod. “It’s true. You are one step closer to your Naughty School Girl, just by writing her down.” His shut-up-and-keep-reading stare ushers you on. “Now, number four….” You start laughing before you can actually read it.
“What is so funny? You should not judge me,” he says. “Plenty of well-respected Jedi’s take art classes. In fact, they offer them at the Temple.”
“Hey, don’t get so defensive. I have nothing against art. Art is good. And artistic men are even better, but—“ You begin to laugh again.
“But what?”
“I dunno. I just have this image of a Jedi art class…with naked Klingon models or something,” you say with a giggle.
“What is a Klingon?”
“Oh right, wrong fandom. Sorry. Everything just sort of runs together in my brain. So, number five….the circus?”
“Yes,” he says.
“The circus?”
“I always wanted to go when I was a little boy. But that isn’t the sort of thing that young Jedi’s do. I happened to see an advertisement for one…next month, actually,” he says enthusiastically.
“The CIRCUS?!”
“Yes, the circus,” he says.
“Are you high?”
“I thought you were not supposed to judge me,” he says through clenched teeth. “And what is wrong with the circus?”
“What is wrong with it? All those animals locked up and parading around? It’s awful. And clowns!”
“I like clowns.”
“I hate them,” you say definitively.
He audibly gasps. “How can you say that? Clowns are funny and entertaining.”
“They are evil,” you say.
“They are not!”
“Yes, they are. Evil, twisted clowns. I hate them,” you say.
“Children love them. How could they be evil?”
“I hated them when I was a kid, and I hate them now,” you say.
“Alright, NORMAL children love them. Evil,” he huffs. “You don’t know the first thing about evil.”
“Ha! Bring it on, baby. You aint seen true evil til you’ve been face-to-face with a clown…that psycho makeup and hair like the flames of hell,” you say.
Obi-Wan shakes his head. “You are beyond hope.”
“Yeah, whatever,” you say.
“Well, you can cross that one off the list if you don’t like it,” he says.
“This isn’t about what I like, silly. This is your list,” you say.
“Well…I’m not going to the circus by myself,” he says.
“What? Scared of the clowns?” You laugh at the look he gives you. “This doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
“Of course it does,” he says. “This list was your idea.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to participate in all of these. Trust me, there are plenty of girls here who would love to go to the circus with you,” you say.
“No, that’s alright,” he says.
“Oh, now don’t be like that,” you say.
“Like what?”
“All moody just because I hate clowns,” you say.
“I am not being moody,” he says. “I just thought you might like to participate, that’s all. And ‘hate’ is a strong word.”
“Hey, I’m doing the birthday party. Give me some credit,” you say.
“Yes, I know. Let’s just drop this, shall we?”
“And I do hate them. Hate. H-A-T-E.”
“The next one, please,” he says.
“Fine,” you say, looking back at the list. “Number six….Temple Ball. Alright, I’m getting disturbing visuals from those words. Please explain it quickly.”
“It is a party,” he says scoldingly. “It is an annual event. Local and foreign dignitaries are invited. The Temple gets to show off the Jedi, the politicians get to show off their titles. But it is mainly a social event hosted by the Temple. We are all required to attend and be on our best behavior.”
“To show that you’re with-it kind of people,” you say. “Boring, with-it kind of people.”
“Something like that, yes,” he says.
“And you wrote it down because….”
“Because I need a date,” he says.
You laugh out loud. “Somehow, I don’t think that will be a problem for you.” You suddenly stop laughing at his serious expression. “Ooohh noooo!” You shake your head with enthusiasm. “No, no, no.”
“It could be fun,” he says.
“No friggin’ way.”
“Why not?”
“Obi-Wan, this is me you’re talking to. Do I look like the kind of person who hangs out with foreign delegations?”
“That’s why I think it would be fun,” he says with a smirk.
“No way. I have all the fun I can handle embarrassing myself in front of the locals. I don’t need to become a galactic embarrassment,” you say.
“Pleeeeease,” he says.
You laugh at his whining. “No.”
“The thing is such a dreadfully boring occasion. I can’t take a normal woman because she will inevitably become giddy,” he says.
“So you’d rather take a mutant freak woman like me who will think it is all very stupid,” you say.
He laughs. “You are not a MUTANT freak.”
“Oh, well in that case….”
“It’s just that these parties are a very big deal. Cocktails, nice dinner, dancing…. And women always think it means more than it is,” he says.
“I’m not EVEN going there,” you say.
“Just say you’ll think about it,” he says.
“I have nothing to wear to a fancy soiree,” you say.
“You could wear that dress you wore at the party,” he says.
“Let me rephrase: Are you drunk?”
“What was wrong with that dress?”
You drop your head into your hands. “You men are so clueless about fashion. That was a smutty, tarty dress.”
“Oh,” he says.
“And besides…I threw up in that dress. Bad association,” you say.
“Ah. I understand,” he says. He sighs and leans back in his chair. “Well, I suppose I could find somebody else to go with me to the party…and to the circus….” His happy face disappears, and he stares at the ground, sighing again.
“Nice try…especially the pout. If I were a normal woman, you’d really have me going,” you say.
He looks up quickly, “Fine.” Then he smiles. “But you can’t blame me for trying.”
“No, I suppose not. But I’m sure there are other women you could ask…Jedi friends of yours, perhaps.”
“Tried that already,” he says with a guilty grin.
You laugh. “So I was your last shot, eh? Well, don’t worry about it. Something will work out.”
“Yes, maybe I will get lucky and somebody will blow up a planet or some such thing,” he says.
Your eyes grow wide. “I can’t believe you just said that!”
“Neither can I,” he says. “You see how much you have corrupted me?”
“Well, my work here is done,” you say, standing up from your chair. “But seriously, this is a very good list. What made you decide to write all this down?”
He stands and follows you toward the door. “Well…. Considering recent events, I….” his voice trails off.
“Yeah, I understand. Life is short. Gotta make sure you live it a little,” you say. He responds only with a nod and reaches forward as you approach the door to open it for you. “Hey,” you say, turning around suddenly, “I have an idea.”
“What is it?”
“Well, seeing as our plans were thwarted yesterday…and considering that the weather dorks have finally gotten their heads on straight and given us a nice day…and that you’re leaving tomorrow….”
“It sounds good already,” he says.
“Let’s try the carnival again,” you say.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, why not? Better yet, let’s do it later…if you can do that.”
“Yes, I can do that,” he says.
“Great. Say we go for dinner? Then we’ll get to see all the cool lights and stuff after dark,” you say.
“I don’t know,” he says. “Are you sure that you’re up to it?”
“Yeah, no problem,” you say. “It’ll be fun.”
“Yes, I think so,” he says. “I have a some errands to run, but I’ll be back in a few hours then?”
“I’ll be here. Take your time,” you say as you walk with him to the front door.
He turns to you quickly and says, “You are going to keep that list to yourself, correct?”
“Oh…well, I was gonna post it on the bulletin board in the kitchen since people are wondering what to get you for your birthday,” you say.
Obi-Wan shifts on his feet and looks around for the right response.
“Kidding!” He gives you THAT look, and you say, “I am being nice. Bye,” you say and scurry away before he has a chance to scold you.