Storyteller, My Storyteller OR Jedi In the Deep

by MJ (bonarbridge@hotmail.com)

Series: The Storyteller (10/?)
Pairing: Q/O
Category: Humor, Adventure, AU
Rating: PG
Archive: MA
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None

Summary: The most famous Buccaneer in the Galaxy has targeted Coruscant! Oh my!

Feedback: Lovely, lovely feedback! A writer's salt and pepper!

Disclaimer: The lads parodied within belong to Mr. G. Lucas. I borrow, translate, tidy up, and put back, all without making a cent.

Note: Perhaps if you wear your little sister's Pirate Hat, this will make more sense...

There was laughter in the Garden of Generous Flexibility. Laughter and the sound of voices yelling and screaming in their appreciation of Life and their ability to Live It Fully.

[Okay, okay! My team, over here! Let's show those pirates what's what!]

[Ablast, me harpies! This is Pirate Smerg of the Good Ship Periwinkle! Hand over all your vallables or we cut off your necks! Ha haaa!]

[Never in a bazillion years, Smerg! We're the good guys and we'll...]

[Hey! Hey! Look! It's the Storyteller! Come on!]

Pirates and good ships forgotten, the thundering herd of Young Ones galloped toward the familiar figure just now sitting down under the Norla tree. Within moments, he was effectively surrounded.

In the blossoming silence, eager faces stared volumns as the Storyteller adjusted his robe to perfection, just so, then took one quick look around.

And why, pray tell, were you screaming your silly heads off? (gently lifted brows)

[We were playing The Jedi and The Pirates! And the pirates were winning!]

[What?! No you weren't! We had our Sabers all ready to go...!]

[Oh, yeah? You just wait until we...]

Stop! Pirates? Ha! Pirates?! (deeply drawn breath) You don't know the first thing about pirates! I could tell you about pirates! Ha!...Ha!!! Pirates!

And the Storyteller paused, breathing hard, eyes distant, the hint of a smile crossing his face.

[...How about now?...]

(blink)...What...?

[Pirates! You know...the ones we don't know the first thing about... (innocents looks)...]

The Storyteller eyed them, one and all, and shook his head.

...Young upstarts...In my day, sass was not tolerated!...

[grin]

The Storyteller lightly pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

I had planned on rereading Murgler's Ode On a Brog Cutlet, but...I suspect it will have to wait.

And his voice hushed as he leaned forward, the sudden glint in his eye a Warning of Things to Come...

Listen, my Young Ones, and you shall Hear of the Marvelous Fight with the Buccaneer On the planet of Coruscant. And still alive are they who could tell from 9 to 5 of the Day that the Jedi defined 'Play By Ear'...

Aaaaaargh...

Our Story begins here, on Coruscant, Jewel of the Spaceways:

Dawn...

Up above, ships were humming their little humming songs, while down below, the populace were doing the wakey-wake. And within the Magnificent Jedi Temple, sleepy-heads and lay-abouts were yawning and stretching joyous little bods, naked and sweaty under cool...

...ummm...

Okay...Ships were humming...

The Dozey Jedi Council took a few precious moments to dunk Chocci- biddies into their Kahffe, while reading the morning post.

Ahh...request there is for Jedi Ceremony this afternoon. Opening they are a new Quikki-Marte one block over. Easy now it will be to procure ephemeral comestibles, hmmmm?

There were murmurs of approval all round as carefree digits happily dunked away.

Never realizing.

Never suspecting.

Death lurched mere parsecs from their frosted fingers.

And little mounds of powdered sugar tell no tales.

Somewhere...else,...not nearly far enough away...

The humongous pirate barge, The Bold Bucket, lolled ponderously in space, ports ablaze, torpedoes charged, make-up mirrors ready.

Cap'n Jum Bou-Zhwah stood on the bridge, surveying the crew. They were ready for battle. Aaaargh. His one good eye took in the busy scene before him, his bad one ogled the Slithian to his left. Nice...

Stepping athwart the poop, he let out a yell. "Shipboy!" His bellow shook the tiny knobs on the consoles. "Clean this up! I've got my new boots on! Aaargh..."

Patting the cute little puft of hair right above his forehead, he struck pose Seventeen: Address the Crew.

"Crew!" Heads popped up, chairs swivelled. "It's time for Action!" He cocked one arm, finger pointed beyonderly. "Ain't no stupid Jedi gonna tell us Bad Guys what to do, no more!" He banged his pudgy fist on the bridge rail and squeezed his eyes, just a bit. "I aim to take all I can get. Wherever it is. And whoever's got it!" His jig of glee carried him across the bridge walk. "Are you with me?"

The yowls, grunts and howls pretty well made this a Yes.

Time to kick some Jedi Butt.

"Plark!" The First Mate leapt nimbly up on the railing, angles at attention, and saluted.

"Indisputably, Cap'n!"

Bou-Zwah glanced at the for'ard view screen and gracefully pointed. "Set a course for Yonder, Plark. We're huntin' Jedi! Aaaaaarrrgh!"

Meanwhile, in a ring of comfy chairs...

The gentle strains of Liss Pakall's Band of Distal Repute settled comfortingly over the beings munching away in the Awesome Council Chamber. Such Peace. Such Serenity. Such Good Pals...

Master Yoda, kindly pass me one more...

BANG! Booooommmmmm! Craaassshh!

Damn! Twelve demitasse cups went the way of the wind, twelve bibs scurried under twelve robes, and a multitude of digits were hurriedly tongued for traces of powdered sugar.

Now...everybody smile...

"Masters!" The Mighty Qui-Gon Jinn strode briskly forward, Potent Glance sweeping the room...and stopped. "Oooooo,"...sniff, sniff... "Chocci-biddies!" The Lovely Master crouched low and proceeded to sniff Great Sniffs of Hunger and Desire. "Chocci- biddies, my Padawan!"

The Handy Apprentice smiled fondly. [Master...]

[...?...]

[Don't you remember? We've got Chocci-biddies...for Later...]

Qui-Gon turned and saw the Look deep within the Perfect Padawan's eyes and the Force staggered for just a moment...

Yeeeesss....

The Absolute Jinn spun and clapped his hands once, rubbing briskly. "Now, where were we..."

Not a single cell moved in a single comfy chair.

"Oh, yes, I remember..." One fist shot into the air. "Pirates, Masters! Rascals, cads and rogues! You'll hear it from the people everywhere!" His whirling arm approached light speed. "And they're on their way to Coruscant, our Jewel of Jewels! E'en as we speak, their ragged craft approaches and Just! What! Are! You! Going! To! Do!" He hiccuped and swayed a bit, hyper-ventilating, as Obi-Wan gathered up stray exclamation points.

Fanning himself with a voluminous sleeve, The Mighty Qui-Gon hiccuped once more, gave his forefinger a suck and tested the breeze.

"Nor'east, Masters. They be a'comin' on the mornin' tide...grrrrrr..."

"Master, that's...Aaaaargh..."

"Ah, yes, of course, Padawan Mine. Thank you...Aaaaarrrrgh!" Whipping out his Trusty Saber, he shoooomed it in a circle around his head, cleverly trimming the Perky Padawan's buzz in passing.

"We leave at Dawn, my Masters!..." Quick glance at wrist. "...Noon! We leave at Noon, my Masters!" He whirled a 360, Saber cutting a swath through madly scrambling air molecules. "Aaaaaargh...Ha haaaa!"

Before the Cringing Council had time to twitch, the Perky Padawan whipped out his Collapsible Fuddlemer and launched into that ancient dance ditty, 'Oh, Lay Me Down, My Master'.

Now, it is said that the Thermionic Hornpipe is a Very Demanding Kata, but Our Quantum Qui-Gon could enact every nuance. Perfectly. With Obi-Wan hammering the Fuddlemer strings with gusto to spare, the Dexterous Master hoiked his robe and stung the air with the kind of kicks, skips, and twirls that only an Expert could handle.

All around the room, twelve frazzled beings attempted to discover How Deep Is My Chair, in order to ascertain How Safe Is My Body.

Whomp-di whomp-ditty whomp-di-whomp!

Beautiful. To some...

Ka-prong, ka-prong, ka-pringitty prong!

Exquisite. To a few...

Clomp ka-whap, clonkitty whirl!

Necessary, perhaps, to Master Gunacle, the quite elderly Specialist in Fairly Unknown and Bizarre Etiquette. The Thermionic Hornpipe is, after all, essential mainly to the Whattes of Psion IV and as they're practically extinct...well...

With one last slide down the Imaginary Rope, a blood- curdling 'halloooo', and a boot-puckering click of heels, the Agile Master came to a Blistering Stop.

As the Indispensible Obi-Wan folded and stashed the Fuddlemer, Master Jinn saluted with dexterous Pomp. "We Go, We Go, to Save the Day!" Then, with a skip and a jump, he hupped onto the Perfect Padawan's back, pointed vaguely toward the remains of the door and remarked, "Engage!"

And, in a clap of thunder, they were gone!

Little Green Yoda quietly cleared his throat. Become easier, it will, as time goes on...

Eleven beings of various persuasions stared holes in his little green carcass.

Ah. Even I, sometimes wrong, can be...

Meanwhile, mere sentences away...

Onward and onward came the pirate barge!

Onward...

Sideways...

Upsidedown...

But, pretty much...Onward!

Captain Bou-Zhwah was said to be a madman, prone to fits, tempers and the unpredictable use of Pancake Make-up.

He was known as the Quirk of the Space Lanes.

Nobody got in the way of Cap'n Jum Bou-Zhwah...Nobody.

"Plark!"

The First Mate cartwheeled neatly across the Bridge, landing nimbly on one big toe. "Infringeably, Cap'n!"

"Where's my Pearlated Fine Tooth Comb? We're going in soon and I want to look my best!"

Aaaaargh...

Plark looked calmly into space, rolled one eye, and pointed underneath the Captain's Chair.

"Ha, haaa...!" Hands on cocked hips, Cap'n Bou-Zhwah chuckled. "Of course! What a silly I am."

Aaaargh...

The little puft of hair sat up and wiggled.

Meanwhile, in a cozy little Runabout, a mere whizzz from Action and Adventure...

"My Padawan, it is nearly time for departure!" The Commandsome Jinn waved a Graceful Hand. "The Checklist, if you please..."

"Yes, Master." Clearing his throat, Obi-Wan flipped to the first page of the Official Diplomatic Survival Manuel, Advanced Force Users Edition. "Multi-Phasic, Long Range, Wide Angle, Automatic Gigo- Blaster Cannon - Model Humongo Bust'em Mark III."

"Check!" And with a snap of his Seatbelt, the Intrepid Jinn stomped the accelerator. "Let's go whomp some Pirate Butt, Padawan!"

With a grind, one putt and a Mighty Varoom, the Turgid Triumph zoomed out of Docking Bay 42 on its Fateful Mission of Defense.

Jedi Everywhere were counting on them!

Meanwhile, a bit too close to the Jewel of the Spaceways...

Grin cocked jauntily on a face that screamed 'I use rouge', Cap'n Bou- Zhwah surveyed the shiny planet in his view screen.

"Looky there, Maties! Enough scrap metal to keep us in Nork Steaks and Plushies for life!" He threw a squint and pondered. "Not to mention Natural Tan Bronzer..."

Aaaaaargh...

"Plark!"

The First Mate made a perfect backflip, landing one-handed on the Science Console. "Injectibly, Cap'n!"

"Are the Blowton Torpedoes loaded?'

"Yup."

"How about the Blasers?"

"Yup."

"Where's my Piratical Top Hat?"

Plark slowly waggled his bottom once...twice...Then pointed with one graceful boot to the Footlocker marked 'Hat'.

Bou-Zhwah sniggered behind his cupped hand. "Guess I better remember where I put those ancient spectacles, eh, Plark?"

Waggle, waggle...

Then, Piratical Top Hat popped out and plopped on, Cap'n Jum gave the Crew one last squint.

"Is everybody ready?!"

Yup.

"Take her iiiiinnnnnnn!"

And with a roar and a lurch, the fearful Bold Bucket broke atmosphere above the Jewel of the Spaceways.

Aaaaaarrrrrgh!

Meanwhile, practically just around the corner...

Dada dum dada dum dada dum dum dum,
Dada dum, dada dum, dada dum dum dum!

A Fiery Ship!

Two Blasting Sabers!

A Bunch of Teeth!

It's The Honed Jedi!

Anti-Gravitator Pulsor Beams flashing all the colors of the spectrum, the Turgid Triumph came barreling through the atmosphere to perch not six feet from the blunt nose of the Pirate barge.

"Padawan, if you please..."

One supple swivel, one nimble flick of the switch and...

Da-da-da daaa daaa. Da-da-da daaaa da. Da-da-da daaaa da. Da-da-da daaaaa...

Squaawwwk! "Hello, hello. This is Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn broadcasting on Temple Band 621.3, The Big Saber. You are trespassing on Posted Territory. This is your only warning. Go away!" Squaawwwk!

The Handy Apprentice cut to the turntable and punched up "I've Got the Force to Hold Me Down" from Liss Pakall's Best of Hits, Vol. 17.

"Well, my Padawan, I expect that told 'em..."

Whoooooom! A bolt of Blaser fire put a serious dent in the little Jedi Runabout's port wing.

Master and Apprentice shared A Look...

Blllaaaaaammmmm!

...raised eyebrows...

Bbaaarrruuummmbbllle!

...an adrenalin spike...

"Evasive Action, Padawan!"

Obi-Wan's fingers flew over the controls and the little ship darted up and over the huge pirate barge, dodging a hail of Jammo Charges and Blowton fire. Darting right! Darting left!

Real edge-of-the-seat-type stuff!

Yeah!

"Plark!"

The First Mate let out a spanking yodel, slid through the railing in a daring somersault, and skidded to a belly-stop alongside Bou- Zhwah's gilded boots.

"Intermittently, Cap'n!"

"I insist this will never do! Where's my StaySure Pearlated Lip Gloss?"

Plark sprang a spring of amazing flexibility, in one so given to angles and points, and bestowed himself at the Cap'n's right shoulder, little pocket-makeup kit at the ready.

And zip, zip, sploosh! Ahhhhh....

"Now!" Bou-Zhwah minced with carefree abandon to the Weapons Officer console, leaned on one elbow, and whispered convincingly in the Nubian's hat. "Blow that frakkin' bastid to itsy, bitsy snarkin' bits!!"

The chase was on!

In a blast of power, the Turgid Triumph sped away at top speed, darting to and fro. It was a Classic Maneuver based on a Young Ones' game called Smack the Nabbit.

A really good Nabbit never got caught.

Jedi made really, really good Nabbits.

"Now it's time to ruuun, mmmm mm mm..." Bllaaam! Zip...
"Tried to have your fuuun, mmmm mm mm..." Frroooom! Scoot...
"Got the Jedi angry, mmmm mm mm..." Splack! Dodge...
"Better reconsider this fight..."

"Catch us if you ca-a-a-an..." Sweeeee!Wham...
"Catch us if you ca-a-a-an..." Crispy!Sizzle...
"Catch us if you ca-a-a-an..." Crackle!Babooie..
"Catch us if you can..."

Ah-Ooooga! Ah-Ooooga!

"Cap'n! Cap'n! Oh, my gosh, Cap'n!"

Looming up in the viewscreen was the biggest damn Constabulary Satellite possibly ever constructed. And every one of its little all-seeing eyes was focused on the Bold Bucket.

Off to the side, winking jolly headlights in a victory roll, was the Turgid Triumph!

Cap'n Bou-Zhwah sighed and let a small tear trickle artfully down one cheek as he popped open his All-Weather Compact and removed the tell- tale shine from his cute button nose.

"Is this it, Plark? No Nork steaks and Plushies? My plan to takeover the Jewel of the Spaceways shall never be?"

"Nope..." Plark offered a consoling SuperSofty Tishue and spoke with quiet inanity. "It's dead, Jum."

A gentle breeze, a night filled with stars, a quiet balconey, the zip and hum of a hundred craft and more flowing by overhead...

"As receptions go, Master, it could have been worse." Quiet chuckle. "They really did try."

Sound of clothing being removed. Perhaps a tunic...

"I agree, Padawan. I imagine it's been at least 70 years since the last one, when Master Marbret blew up that big tube-thing that sounded a little bit like a Nohr Whall. Never did figure out what it wanted..."

More sounds. Perhaps boots...

"I found the ShamWein quite interesting, Master. And someone worked very hard on those appetizers."

"Oh, yes, my Obi-Wan. I do enjoy a good glass of air with bubbles. And nothing hits the spot like bits of rubber on crackers..."

Another muffled chuckle. And more sounds. Maybe...leggings, sliding to the floor...

"A question, my Qui-Gon." The soft voice caressed the very air. "What could possibly be in that large serving platter so thoughtfully delivered by the Chef himself?"

The Masterly Jinn smiled a Particular Smile and lifted the large platter to his side.

"Well, Obi-Wan...this is Debona Cream and Trifle and it goes...here. And this is Double Ambrosia with Smork Sauce and it goes...here." He leaned back a moment to survey his handiwork. "This is Honeyed Semma Bread and it goes...here. This is Passa Berry Souffle and it goes...here." He laid a self-satisfied look upon the young man lying in front of him. "Aaaand...these...are...Chocci-biddies..." One by one, they were laid in a pattern only the Finest Masters know.

The Plucky Padawan's nose wrinkled in that special smile. "And now what...my, Qui-Gon?" That supple voice might have trembled just a bit...

"Well. Now..." Leaning forward very slowly, a warm gleam in his eyes, the Mighty Jinn explained, "I am going to help myself...to Smorgasboard...Obi-Wan..."

The group of Young Ones sat spellbound in the Garden of Generous Flexibility.

Before them, utterly silent, sat the Storyteller, slowly blinking as a gaudy flutterly waved its wings from upon his nose.

[Is that it?]

...(blink)...What?...

[About pirates. Is that it?]

...(blink)...Pirates?...(blink)...

[...(glare)...He's gone all woozy.]

[Yeah. And did you notice? He got all mushy about food again!]

[Yeah. So...you wanna play pirates?]

[Yeah! Come on, my team! Let's put ol' Smerg where he belongs!]

[Ha! Bet ya can't!]

So, with all the vim and vigor of youth, Pirates and Jedi again met on the Field of Battle.

And the Storyteller slowly rose, turned around, embraced and kissed the Norla tree, blinked once, then tottered off down the Central Path, muttering of Debona Cream and Passa Berries To Go...

The End.