Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Mr. Lucas. I'm
only funnin' with 'em.
Feedback: Yeas, Nays and "Keep-your-day-jobs" welcome at
Sithlawyer@aol.com
Summary: Master Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi face one of their most
perilous missions- a day at the mall.
"Concentrate. Feel the force. Flow through you it does. Calm
you must be. At peace," as I recite the litany, Obi-Wan shakes
off the remainder of his tension. He nods to each of my
statements, slowly rolling his shoulders and stretching his
back muscles. I sense him send out his awareness to his
surroundings. He is ready. "It is time, Obi-Wan," I tell him.
The apprentice nods to me once more, a serious look upon his
youthful features. Slowly and purposefully, he turns away from
me. He raises his arms and pushes back the long brown sleeves
of his jedi robe. He links his fingers and rotates his palms
until his knuckles yell in protest, cracking their displeasure
at being flexed. The blonde head swivels and looks down into my
eyes. "I am ready for the trial, Master Yoda," he says with
grim determination.
I acknowledge him with a jerk of my head and reach into the
folds of my cloak. Pulling out a round metal disk I move closer
to stand next to Obi-Wan's leg. I carefully place the disk into
a slot on the device setting in front of us. At that moment,
Obi-Wan takes up his battle stance. His hands fly to the
mechanical controls before him. A clock begins chiming off the
seconds. 30, 29, 28... Obi Wan is furiously working the buttons
and knobs in his hands. Sweat begins to form on his temple and
above his lip. Although I long to lend him my advice, I know
this is a journey the apprentice must take alone. 19, 18, 17...
The boy is running out of time, but he does not panic. I am
pleased with his ability to remain calm and employ the force in
his endeavors. 3, 2, 1. Obi-Wan smashes his palm down onto a
large red button just as the buzzer sounds. From overhead a
click and whine of machinery heralds the approach of a dropping
claw. A three-pronged metal pincer floats past Obi-Wan's head
and buries itself in the pile of fur and cloth in front of his
face. Eagerly the padawan and I mark its progress. Tenderly the
claw grasps onto a fluffy representation of an ewok. Obi-Wan is
unable to stifle an excited intake of breath. I am patient,
however, I have seen this situation played out many times and
know the outcome is never certain. As if reading my negative
thoughts, the pincer suddenly releases its burden, letting the
small furry toy drop back into the pile before shooting off
towards the ceiling once more.
"Aww.." moans Obi-Wan.
"Told you I did that claw machines always rigged are," I
remind him.
"I know," he sadly replies "but that stuffed ewok was right on
top. It looked so easy."
"A lesson there is here for you, young apprentice," I tell
Obi-Wan.
"I think I know it, Master. Looks can be deceiving and what
looks easy rarely is?" he answers.
"No," I reply. "Loan you should not a quarter to padawans
wanting to play stupid claw games."
Obi-Wan smiles at me and places his hand on my shoulder as we
exit the arcade. As we move back out into the mall he address
me. "How about if I repay you with a smoothie, Master Yoda?
There's an Orange Julius right over there."
"A good idea that is young one. On this bench I will sit and
wait." The youngster moves off as I sit myself on a piece of
furniture so uncomfortable it must have been purchased used
from a torture chamber. Just as my hindquarters have been
pinched to the point of numbness, Obi-Wan returns with our
beverages.
"I forgot to ask what kind you wanted, so I just got the
flavor of the day. It's called Tatooine twister. It's quite
good," he tells me handing over a cup with a long, protruding
straw. "Thank you again for coming to the mall with me, Master
Yoda," he continues. "I know you usually like to shop at home
on the Holovid Shopping Network, so I know it took a lot to
drag you here. I really value your assistance in finding a
birthday gift for Master Qui-Gon, he's not an easy person to
shop for."
"Considering that I have been, Obi-Wan. Think you perhaps a
sweater to give him?" I ask.
"Well, I was hoping to get something a little more personal.
But it's a good place to start."
I pry my butt from the slatted bench seat and Obi-Wan and I
begin to cruise the mall. We pass dozens of shops, but most
seem to be selling clothing aimed at anorexic young females.
Finally I notice an establishment that has tasteful displays of
folded apparel neatly placed on wooden tables.
"There, padawan. Looks appealing does that place," I inform my
charge. As we stop and look in the window, several young people
primly dressed in cotton slacks and shirts busy themselves
tidying the clothing piles. I begin to move through the doorway
of the store but stop as I notice Obi-Wan is not following.
"Why dawdle do you, Padawan?" I ask.
"I don't think we'll find anything for Qui-Gon in there,
Master. Let's just keep looking,," he says to me. I can sense
he is not being entirely truthful. I also sense fear and
trepidation emanating from the apprentice.
"Sense you a danger here, Obi-Wan?" I query.
"No, it's not that."
"Feel you a disturbance in the force?" I ask.
"Nope, can't say that I do."
"Anticipate do you their prices are too high?" I press.
"Not really, no."
"Then your fanny you will move. Faces his fears does a jedi,
Obi-Wan," I admonish.
The boy acquiesces and we step over the threshold of the shop.
The moment we are inside we are besieged by hordes of khaki
wearing sales people. They are all very talkative and seem very
eager to please. I find this a refreshing change from the
majority of retail establishments in the republic. I decide to
let them assist us in our search. "Tell me you can where to
find sweaters?" I ask one of the smiling young people.
The young man looks at me indifferently and wags a finger
towards the opposite side of the store. "Over there," he
grudgingly responds, returning to smiling at Obi-Wan.
I watch as a female clerk begins to run her hands over
Obi-Wan's arms and seductively breathes at him, "You'd look
smashing in one of our denim button downs."
The padawan is looking decidedly uncomfortable with her
ministrations, so I attempt to distract her. "Girl, help me you
will to select a sweater," I tell her.
She flashes me a hateful glare, but removes her paws from
Obi-Wan long enough to point towards another section in the
store. Through clenched teeth she spits, "They're over there,
old man."
Meanwhile, a third clerk has positioned himself next to
Obi-Wan, pushing the female aside. He is placing his arm around
the young padawan's shoulders and is trying to lead him away
from the others. "No, darling, what you need is something more
daring, wild. You need to show off that fabulous body of yours.
Who picked out these frumpy tunics? Your grandpa, there?"
Once more I have to step between the clerk and my jedi
student. But it seems no matter how many I distract there are
always more to take their places. Finally when a large hairy
wookie wearing chinos and a pastel polo shirt begins to ruffle
Obi-Wan's hair, I decide enough is enough.
With a loud crack and a snap-hiss, I ignite my lightsaber. The
blade illuminates my features and accentuates them in a way
that makes me appear very frightening despite my size. "Away
you will back from the padawan!" I command. I put the power of
the force behind my voice and hurl it towards the overheated
sales clerks. Rapidly they begin to shrink away from Obi-Wan
and the awesome specter of a jedi master unleashed. Obi-Wan
moves to stand behind me as we back out the door.
"Dude, your grandpa is a little tense," offers one of the
khaki wearers to our retreating backs.
"Right you were to fear that place, Obi-Wan. Much danger there
was," I tell the young man as we continue to walk past rows of
storefronts.
"Oh, yes. Master Qui-Gon won't even let me walk on that side
of the mall let alone actually allow me to go in The Gap," he
affirms.
Eventually we approach a large anchor store with a lighted
sign declaring "SEARS." There are two sets of escalators
leading up to two entrances set on either side of the store.
One half of the storefront is painted white, the other black.
"Which entry way to take shall we, Padawan?" I ask my
companion.
"I don't know Master. Do you want to take the white escalator
or the black?"
"What have they on the black side, Obi-Wan?"
"I don't know," he replies. "I've never tried the darker side
of Sears. We could go up the black escalator and find out."
"No, young one. Once you start down the dark path, forever
will it dominate your destiny," I advise.
"Of course, you're right. It's better to keep our options
open. We'll go to the lighter side of Sears and if we can't
find anything there, then we'll turn to the dark side," Obi-Wan
declares.
"A wise plan that is, apprentice," I praise him as we set off
towards the electric stairway.
The escalator is moving at an alarming rate. Metal steps are
materializing out of the floor and flying steeply towards the
towering entrance at speeds fast enough to propel a passenger
into hyperspace. I hesitate stepping onto the mechanical death
trap and Obi-Wan senses my reluctance.
"Here, Master Yoda," he calmly tells me while placing one hand
on my back and another under my elbow, "I'll help you." He
waits a few heartbeats while I settle myself and then just as a
step appears from beneath the floor he shouts, "Now!" As one
our feet move onto the quickly moving platform. Obi-Wan does
not release his hold on me and as I peer over my shoulder at
the vertical drop that is rapidly growing beneath us, I am
grateful.
Eventually we reach the top of the escalator and step off the
moving stairway. Suddenly I realize the machine has grabbed
hold of the edge of my cloak. I call out to Obi-Wan who
immediately dives for the garment. The padawan is pulling
mightily at my hem, but he is unable to dislodge the fabric
from the jaws of the escalator that is continuing to chew my
robe, millimeter by millimeter. Furiously I begin to smack the
metal monster with my cane, but to no avail. As I continue to
rain blows upon the stairway's mechanical body, Obi-Wan has
braced himself to keep the beast from sucking me down. The
apprentice is sprawled on the floor, legs akimbo with one foot
on each side of the escalator. I can see the tension of his
struggle in his clenched jaw and straining leg muscles.
Unfortunately, Obi-Wan's position at the summit of the stairway
is blocking the other beings who were behind us on the trip
upward. The shoppers are beginning to pile up at the top of the
escalator, some desperately trying to jump over the straining
padawan and others trying to move back down the stairs even as
they continue to be propelled forward. Obi-Wan's arms are
shaking from effort now and I realize my cane cannot loosen the
teeth of the monster. I send out a command to the apprentice,
"Obi-Wan use the force!"
Suddenly I feel Obi-Wan's mind explode in a wave of power.
Screeching metal and crackling fuses drown out the shouts of
the mass of beings being lumped together at the top of the
escalator. The entire stairway gives a mighty lurch and my
cloak hem flies free. Then with a shudder, the mechanical
horror regains its momentum and starts moving again, but even
faster. People are being dumped at the top of the platform
quicker than they can remove themselves. Obi-Wan grabs me and
rolls to the side of the escalator even as I erect a barrier of
force power around us to keep flying shoppers from crushing us.
As we dust ourselves off and I examine the damage to my
garment, Obi-Wan spies a store directory. "Master Yoda, it says
here that men's sweaters are on the fourth floor," he informs
me.
"The elevator we will take, Obi-Wan," I insist.
Several minutes later we are looking through racks of sweaters
when I see one that catches my eye. "Look you here, Obi-Wan.
Like this do you?" I ask the padawan.
"I don't know," he hedges. "It's kind of boring."
"Wear it around his shoulders could Qui-Gon. Very jaunty."
"I suppose..."
"Good color for him it is. Matches his eyes it does," I
encourage.
"That's true, but I'm still not certain. It's just not
personal enough, I guess."
"Monogrammed you could have it. Put Q G J on the lapel, yes?"
I entice.
"Do they do that here?" he asks.
"Find out I will," I offer and head off to find a clerk. I am
hoping I will gather information to the positive and we can
escape this dreadful mall. I vow to never leave the temple
again and do all my shopping from HSN. At last I discover a
salesman or rather salesboy. The clerk looks to be only just
past puberty and is almost painfully skinny. He is standing
behind a counter with a vapid look on his face.
"Tell me you can if monogramming you do?" I ask him.
"Huh?" he replies stupidly, making his large protruding adam's
apple bob up and down.
"Monogramming do you do?" I repeat.
"I can't understand you sir. Do you speak basic?" This last
part he spits out very slowly, making his adam's apple dance
hypnotically.
"Basic I am speaking. Listening you are not. Monogramming do
you or not do?" I affirm.
"I am sorry sir, but we do not have a translator droid on the
premises. Please try to speak slowly and distinctly and I will
try to help you." His adam's apple is bouncing around furiously
now and I barely resist the urge to rip it from the brat's
throat.
"Speaking slowly I am. Only I asked you a question. Letters
with stitches do you put on sweaters?" My voice has risen
several levels now, but is not quite a shout.
"I am sorry sir, I still cannot understand you perhaps if you
could use sign language or gestures?" he offers.
I give him a gesture and toss the sweater at his empty head
before storming off to find Obi-Wan.
When I find the apprentice, he immediately senses my
displeasure. "Is something wrong, Master?" he asks, concerned.
"Would you like to go to Hickory Farms and get some free
samples?" he suggests brightly.
With that idea I let go of my rage and hate. Free munchies are
always good for banishing the dark side.
After we have filled our bellies with assorted cheeses and
crackers, Obi-Wan and I begin to make our way once more down
the main corridor of the mall. The padawan stops suddenly and
gestures toward a store with bright blinking lights and a heavy
black drape over the doorway. A neon sign proclaims "Tattoos R
Us." Obi-Wan places his elbow in one hand while the other cups
his chin. His voice makes an inquiring grunt that sends chills
up my spine.
"Hey," he muses, "I could get a tattoo. One with Qui-Gon's
name on it. Maybe a lightsaber that says 'Qui-Gon you light up
my life.' What do you think, Master Yoda?"
Inwardly I cringe, but I know if I show my displeasure it will
only prompt him to decide favorably on the tattoo. Young people
are notorious for disobeying the advice of their elders when it
comes to matters like this. Even a well-trained and disciplined
padawan such as Obi-Wan is not immune when tattoos are at
issue.
"An interesting idea that is Obi-Wan. Where think you to put
the tattoo?" I ask, trying to remain calm.
"Well, I'm not sure. Maybe- Good Heavens!" Obi-Wan's musings
turn into a shocked cry and I swing my head around to see what
has elicited this response from him. My eyes rest on a dark
figure emerging from the doorway of the tattoo shop. Pushing
aside the drape a young man with his face completely covered in
red and black tattoos steps out into the mall, snarling at
passersby with brown, pointed teeth. I find my opening.
"See those horns do you Obi-Wan?" I ask the still staring
apprentice.
"Yes," he gurgles, captivated.
"A side effect they are of the tattoo process," I lie.
"Really?" he asks, disbelieving.
"Rare occurrence that is, but happens it does. Teeth it can
affect as well," I deceive. "Such a present I think Qui-Gon
would not like, yes?"
"No, me either. I don't think I want to risk that."
"Very wise, padawn. Perhaps instead a gift you could find in
that store?" I point to an establishment called The Stone
Gallery. The shop's window proclaims "From pebbles to boulders,
we've got what you need." An additional red banner has been
slung over the doorway reading "Sale! Get Your Rocks Half Off!
Today Only!"
Distracted from the tattoo parlor, Obi-Wan begins to head for
the rock shop. "What an excellent idea, Master Yoda," he tells
me. "And look, there's a Hallmark store across the way. You
could see if they have any new Precious Mammals figurines in
yet." His plan is a good one and we go our separate ways.
Inside the store, I make a beeline for my favorite display. My
latest copy of Precious Mammal Collector described the newest
line and I eagerly seek out one item that particularly caught
my fancy. As I gaze up into the glass case, I see the figurine
I admired from the magazine article. A salesgirl notices me
looking at the piece and offers to take it out of the case for
me. As I hold the tiny ceramic figurine, I note the picture in
the periodical did not do it justice. It is more beautiful than
I could have imagined. But I sigh and hand it back to the clerk
for her to replace in the display. Being a jedi master may
bring respect and admiration, but it doesn't pull down much of
a paycheck. As I exit the card shop I see Obi-Wan entering.
"Did they have the new collection in yet, Master Yoda?" he
asks cheerfully.
"Yes, young one, finally arrived they have," I answer with a
heavy heart. Obi-Wan's feelings of concern ripple through the
force.
"Don't you want to get any Master? I know you have been
waiting months for them to come out."
"Money I cannot spare after my new speeder bike I have
purchased, Obi-Wan. Patience a jedi must have and control," I
remind him sadly.
The young man nods his head knowingly and we exit the store. I
look up at him and ask "Find you did not a suitable rock?"
"No," he replies, "I didn't notice that any of them seemed
particularly force sensitive or anything."
"Pretty ones there were, though?"
"Oh yes. There were some that were quite beautiful."
"Buy one you should. The difference Qui-Gon would not know," I
urge.
"Master Yoda! I couldn't lie about something like that.
Besides he would know, he could feel there was no force aura
around it," Obi-Wan replies, shocked.
"Tell him I would that I felt the force in it. Dispute me he
would not."
"Well, maybe as a last resort. If we can't find something
better."
I resign myself to more shopping and as I scan the shop fronts
for a gift idea I am suddenly stopped in my tracks by the
presence of a man who has forced himself into our path. The man
flashes us a greasy smile and reaches out and begins pumping
Obi-Wan's hand furiously.
"Hello citizens! I'm Senator Palpatine and I'm running for
reelection. Here take one of my brochures. How do you stand on
the issue of trade franchises? Well I stand there, too. Here
take one of my buttons. You are registered to vote aren't you?"
As the politician continues to schmooze Obi-Wan I begin to
sense a disturbance in the force. Something cold. Evil. There
is a presence of the dark side here. I can feel it. As I am
fond of saying, the dark side is difficult to pinpoint
sometimes, but I resign myself to tracking it down. I close my
eyes and stretch out my feelings. I detect the threads of hate
and anger winding their way through this part of the mall. I
decide to follow one and see where it leads. The tendril of
dark energy winds its way around the center of the courtyard we
are in, snaking past the customer service booth where it
becomes stronger and moving between the shoppers. Finally, I
discover its beginning place. I open my eyes to see my target.
Directly in front of my face is Senator Palpatine, still
shaking Obi-Wan's hand and handing him campaign paraphernalia.
I have found the source of the evil. Directly behind the
congressman's head is a sign reading "Mc Donald's." I shudder.
Truly a darker bastion of evil does not exist in this universe
or any other. Now I know why the dark side was so strong here.
I grab Obi-Wan's cloak and pull him away from the loathsome
burger stand.
The young apprentice's arms are now full of leaflets,
brochures, bumper stickers and posters and he has several pins
stuck into his tunic displaying slogans. As we pass a trash
receptacle, Obi-Wan divests himself of the campaign material
and we continue our journey.
As the padawan and I traverse the mall, I amuse myself with
watching the amazing spectacle of beings passing by me. Obi-Wan
and I take turns pointing out to each other the more colorful
ones. I giggle as the apprentice makes a rude comment about the
hair color of a female. He laughs in turn when I make reference
to the tightness of her pants and the relative size of her
posterior. We continue to walk and mall snipe in this manner
until we pass a store twinkling with beautiful, crystal lights.
Obi-Wan and I are unable to refrain from gasping at the sight.
We find ourselves being drawn in by the sparkling beacon.
Only after we enter the shop do I regain my senses enough to
know we have been trapped. The lure of the jewelry store is
like the sweet, soulful song of a siren and Obi-Wan and I have
been captured like lonely sailors. The young apprentice is
working his way along the glass cases, his breath leaving foggy
evidence of his passing. After several circuits of the
establishment, he stops at one particular spot and gestures for
me to join him.
"Look, Master Yoda, isn't it exquisite?" he asks pointing to a
small hair tie. "Wouldn't that look good in Qui-Gon's hair?"
I stand on the tips of my toes and peer into the case. I spy
the item in question, a delicate barrette covered in blue
corusca gems. I must admit it would indeed set off the color of
Qui-Gon's hair very nicely and I tell Obi-Wan so. I worry
however, at the cost of the item. I don't have long to ponder
that question before a saleswoman approaches us.
"Would you like to look at something, sirs?" she asks
politely.
"Yes, please," answers Obi-Wan. "That hair tie, if you would.
Thank you."
The padawan gingerly takes the jewelry from the clerk and
holds it up to the light. We both find ourselves gasping
involuntarily at the breathtaking way it reflects the light.
The barrette is casting tiny blue-hued rainbows onto the
counter in front of us. Obi-Wan nervously swallows.
"Um, how much is it?" he timidly asks. I steel my self for the
response.
"Twenty-thousand republic dacterians," the clerk informs us.
"Twenty-thousand!" the apprentice and I choke out together.
Obi-Wan's hands begin to shake and I fear he will drop the item
and break it. "My soul I could not sell for that much money," I
declare. Obi-Wan gives back the jewelry, thanks the clerk and
we beat a hasty retreat.
Back out in the mall, Obi-Wan has hung his head and is looking
very dejected. I prod him to ascertain the source of his
dismay.
"Oh, Master Yoda, I just don't think I'll find anything decent
to give to Qui-Gon. I don't know where else to look," he sighs.
I realize it is time for me to go into full teacher mode.
"Forgot have you your lessons, Obi-Wan? Give up a jedi does
not. One with the force he is. Lets it guide him he does. Trust
in the force you must and your path it will show you," I advise
the young apprentice.
"You're right, of course, Master Yoda. I should have realized
that myself," he tells me somewhat chagrined. The padawan then
kneels down, assuming a pose for deep meditation. I sense him
center himself and settle his turbulent emotions. He becomes
peaceful, calm. He is deep into the jedi trance when slowly he
stands and begins to walk. His face is turned up as though he
is listening to a distant voice that is urging him towards it.
His pace quickens and I find myself unable to keep up with the
purposeful strides of the apprentice's long legs. Still only
semiconscious, he stops dead in his tracks and turns. Just as I
breathlessly hobble up to him, he awakens. We both look up to
the store's marquee, eager to see where the force has led us.
"Victoria's Secret," recites Obi-Wan gleefully. "I should have
thought of that before."
We enter the establishment and the apprentice begins to
rummage through racks of clothing. He examines various robes,
satin boxers and silky pajamas. He paws piles of briefs and
lacey stockings. He pauses briefly at a rack of nighties and I
send a plea to whatever deity might be listening that Obi-Wan
not choose the one with the feathers. Finally he holds up a
pair of knit boxer briefs for my opinion. "What do you think of
these, Master Yoda?" he asks.
"Functional they are, Padawan," I offer.
"Well, they look kind of dull, but they're really sexy on," he
assures me. I take his word for it.
"Then buy them you should, Obi-Wan," I advise.
"Well, I need to dig for the correct size," he says passing
off the underwear to me and turning to search the display
table.
"Look fine these do. His size these are, yes?" I inquire of
the apprentice.
"Oh my, no, Master! Those are big enough for a wookie," he
answers.
"Then large enough for your master they will be. Heard you
bragging to the other padawans about how big Qui-Gon was I
have." I can't help snickering as the apprentice's face turns
bright red. He sets down the underwear with an indignant huff
and moves to another area of the store. I follow him, amused at
his embarrassment. Suddenly he stops in front of a rack of
clothing.
"Oh, Master, look," he says, forgetting his peevishness and
pointing to the display of garments. Dangling from the metal
hangers are some very tasteful black pajamas. They are styled
very similarly to our jedi apparel. The tunic is loose-fitting,
wrapping in the front and tying with a simple sash. The deep
v-cut neckline promises the revelation of a respectful amount
of skin. The matching pants are also loose fitting and toped by
a simple drawstring closure. Very classy. "I think I've found
the perfect gift," Obi-Wan declares." I agree. We have a
winner!
Obi-Wan makes his purchase and we move back out into the mall.
I am very weary from the long day of shopping and my steps are
slower than they were when we first started our adventure.
Obi-Wan seems to realize this and he points towards an empty
bench. "Would you like to sit down and rest for a while, Master
Yoda?" he asks me. "I think I might run back down to that stone
shop and get a little something to go with these pajamas."
"A good plan that is, Padawan. Your package you can leave
here. Watch it I will," I agree, pulling myself up onto the
rock-hard seat. Obi-Wan moves down the thoroughfare and I scan
my surroundings. Beings are walking past with their limbs full
of packages and screaming children. Their voices fill the
shopping center with dialects from dozens of different worlds.
So many disparate cultures and peoples brought together in a
spirit of gluttonous consumerism. It is truly inspiring.
Suddenly a shriek pierces the air and stirs me from my
musings. A tiny jawa is screeching and jumping up and down, his
robed arm pointing accusingly at the form of a fleeing human.
The man is carrying a handbag under his arm and looking back
over his shoulder fearfully. I realize he is a purse-snatcher.
As a jedi I have a responsibility to help maintain order and
peace in the galaxy. Taking that task to heart I focus the
power of the living force around me. Stretching out my hand I
propel a burst of force-energy towards a trash receptacle. As
the cylinder topples, it rolls into the path of the running
thief. The criminal is moving too fast to stop and suddenly his
feet are knocked out from underneath him. As his backside makes
contact with the floor, two armed security persons run up
towards the thief to take him into custody. I relax back onto
the bench, content with a job well done.
It is only moments later that Obi-Wan rejoins me carrying a
small package. "Here," he tells me simply, shoving the parcel
towards me.
"Find you a rock, Padawan?" I ask taking the paper bag from
him.
"Just open it," he replies.
I do as he asks, perplexed. As I withdraw my hand from the bag
and glance downward, my jaw drops. Carefully protected in
bubble wrap is the Precious Mammal figurine I wanted. I look up
at Obi-Wan curiously and see his broad smile beaming down at
me. "The sales girl told me which one you wanted. I thought you
deserved it for putting up with me today, Master," he says
softly. I find it difficult to speak and just smile stupidly.
Eagerly I remove the plastic covering and gaze at the statue.
It is a representation of a kneeling padawan. It's tiny
porcelain hands rest on one upraised knee in a respectful pose.
It has been painted with large blue doe eyes and a sandy brown
crewcut and braid.
"Reminded me of you it did," I tell Obi-Wan, trying not to
choke-up. "Thank you, young one."
"Well, you deserve it. So, are you ready to leave?" he says,
finally uttering the magic word. I rewrap my delicate prize and
we make our escape.
Out in the parking lot, we wander down one row of vehicles
after another, fruitlessly. I finally turn to the apprentice in
frustration. "Sure you are we parked in this lot, Obi-Wan?" I
ask.
"Yes, I'm positive. But your speeder bike is proving most
elusive," he replies, shifting our packages from one arm to the
other. "Try your signaling device again," he suggests. I
continue to press the button on my key chain to no avail. "I'm
certain we parked by this lamp post. I distinctly remember-
Hey! What's this?" The padawan breaks off and walks toward the
lighting pole. He reaches up to the post and removes a tiny
post-it data pad. "Uh-oh," he grimaces.
"What says it, Obi-Wan?" I inquire fearfully.
"It's from the mall parking patrol. It says your speeder's
been towed," he tells me, staring at the notice.
"Towed!" I cry, anticipating large impound fees.
"Well, I did warn you not to park in the handicapped space,"
Obi-Wan admonishes.
"Walk with a cane I do!" I retaliate.
"Yes, but I did tell you that without an official sticker you
were taking the risk this could happen."
I sigh. "Warned me you did. Listened I should have," I admit.
"Now a comm-call I must make." Reluctantly I fish in the folds
of my robe for my comm unit. As I pull out the signaling
device, Obi-Wan's hand closes over my own.
"Let me call for you, Master Yoda," he offers, taking the
communicator from me. I regard him gratefully as he punches in
a series of numbers. The call is put through and the young
apprentice brings the comm unit up to his mouth. "Um. Hello,"
he winces. "Master Windu? This is Obi-Wan. Uh, we have a little
problem..."
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