The Storyteller Reappears OR The Joy of Jedi

by MJ (bonarbridge@hotmail.com)

Series: The Storyteller

Pairing: Q/O

Category: Humor, Adventure, AU

Rating: PG

Archive: MA

Warnings: None

Spoilers: None

Summary: The crazed Spice Thief threatens the Very Lives of Our Favorite Jedi

Feedback: Always and forever!

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns and provides. We love and slash. No monies are made by we.

Note: It's anybody's guess, what this is. So open your teeth and let it fizz...

Deep, deep in the Temple garden sat the Storyteller, robe all brown and perfect on the green, green grass. Around him were eager faces, eager ears, eager wiggles, ready for Courageous Narrative and Amazing Plot.

He spoke:

Don't you people have something else to do?

[No.]

Well...why not?

[We'd rather be here, listening to weird stories.]

...Weird...stories...

[Ya got any more?]

...(glare)...As a matter of fact, I've got one that might make you decide never to come back...

[...(grin)...No way!]

(sigh)...I thought not...

Our Story begins:

The Magnificent Jedi Temple stood like an elegant beacon, shining in the night sky of Coruscant. All was quiet. All was peace. Corridors dark and shadowed lay in wait for the busy world of the morrow's activities. In the Communal Kitchen, jolly cooks began the preparation for another day of busy meals for busy Jedi, all of them with hungry bodies and chompy teeth.

Bistobell Nazzak, Specialty Chef of the highest order, bustled his way around the bright room, dodging chopping tables and 2nd chefs, as he hurried to the spice cabinet. He was serving Losha Pikelletti at lunch. This was an extremely tricky dish requiring patience, finesse and 72 different spices. Chef Bistobell whistled softly as he slid open the first of many drawers in the large cabinet. ( Oh ho, oh ho ho ho. And won'ting Master Leklin being surprised. He does so loving his Pikelletti.)

But what?...

But where?...

The nearest 2nd chef happened to look up just in time to avoid the little flying drawer that sailed past his head on its way across the room. Dripping ladle in hand, he watched as Chef Bistobell Nazzak, Chef of all Chefs, flung box after tiny box in all directions.

"I am killing the one didding this!"

Fooooooom! Clannnggg!

"I am chopping up his fingers and boiling them with mincing sliggers until he noesn't seeing his own handbone!

Fooooooom! Splakkk!

"I am taking his tongue and sitting in it until no thing can come between us!"

Foooooom! Pronnggg! Tinkle-tinkle.

2nd Chef Jumma figured it was way past time to Panic.

AWAKE! FEAR! FIRE! FOES! AWAKE!

The ancient Jedi Call to Arms!

Everyone out of bed! Everyone put some clothes on!

Man the Life...! Well, no...umm...

Man your Sabers! Call out the Force!

The Bleary Jedi Council sat shaking in their comfy chairs, quilts all a'quiver.

Where are they?

Shouldn't they be here by now?

Worry, you should not. (sigh) Come, they will...

And it was so. For there, in the dawn's early light, two figures appeared. Their Salvation, their Heroes. Galloping at full speed into the room.

"Masters, We Come!" Arms akimbo, they surveyed the circle of shivering blankets.

"The Sneaky Thief of Seasonings shall not destroy your din-din! We are on the scent e'en now!"

They struck Jedi Pose No. 7, Level 12, known to awed creche-babes as the Little Teapot.

"The Dreaded Chef Horner has Copped his last Condiment! Hopped his last Herb!"

They poured.

"He has Pfeppered his last Pfie!"

The eyes above the quilt rims began to water.

"Padawan!"

The Handy Apprentice stood to Attention and slammed his fist to his chest. "Master!"

"Break out the Spoons!" Qui-Gon's voice dropped to a Profound Whisper. "Chef Gorner has Tasted his Last.Tart..."

Master and Apprentice bowed elegantly from the waist, their movement a delight to the eye.

The Council held its collective breath.

Please...Let them just...go...

Oh, damn...

As the Intrepid figures rose, they were grinning.

Their grins were Confident. Their grins were Irresistible. Their grins were downright Scary...

Such Lovely teeth...

Master and Apprentice promptly whipped out Boodlesacks, tongued the mouthpieces, sucked air, and blew like Banthas...

Nwaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Waaa eeeeh waaa oooo, Waaa eeeeh waaa oooo, Wee-wee-wee-wee weeee, Wee-wee-wee-wee weeee!

Puffing and blowing, they jogged slow-time across the floor and out the Grand Doorway, clearing every sinus in the vicinity.

Little Green Yoda realized he was now sitting on his head.

But that was okay.

He was fine.

Really...

The Mighty Qui-Gon and his Handy Apprentice were Power-Walking toward the Temple Concourse, baggage carts towering to the rear like lurking Bungwhales. Behind them, bandaides seemed to be the order of the day.

"My Padawan, did you remember our reading matter? It would never do to lag behind in our continuing studies." He did a gentle triple salchow, clicked his heels and bounced back into the Power Walk.

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan continued to toss Passa petals in large handfuls slightly ahead of their path. "If you recall, right before the Trials At Naboo, we had started Where There's a Jedi, There's a Way." His mid-air cartwheel was Perfection. "I also thought we might start A Jedi In the Hand Is A Gripping Experience." Grinning, he wrinkled his pert little nose. Paint chips fluttered lightly from the ceiling.

The innocent little Passa petals falling at their feet skittered at the sound of Qui-Gon's voice. "I dare say, oh Padawan Mine, that Study Hall will prove quite instructive."

It's not often that one sees the Jedi Power-Polka performed with such Perfection.

Little Jok Gorner sat in his corner, reading of Jedi Pie.

Yummy, juicy, chunky Jedi Pie.

Savory with bonions, swirtsbulbs and gickery.

Oooooo...yes. Speecy-Spicy Jedi Pie.

A blob of drool splattered the page. That's alright...Just wipe it riiiight off. There.

He flipped the well-thumbed cookbook shut. It was one of a kind. Unique. All in his own spidery handwriting. Recipes created and tested by himself. And all but one were delicious. All but one were scrumptious. All but one had satisfactory endings.

He still needed to test...Jedi Pie.

The little Jedi VBV Gadabout made short work of the parsecs covered in the search for the Dreaded Spice Snitcher. From Oobloe to Deema III, from Bopoola Prime to Kan Koo, they searched. Closer and closer they came to the Spice Thief's hideout. And then, they heard of the infamous Wizard Man, the One Who Knew It All.

His home was on a backwater planet, his house, a wobbly set of sticks stuck under a tree. He spent his days in contemplation, his thoughts on the vagaries of Life and Fate. When they found him, he was worrying a large gristle with his one tooth.

Seated across the fire, the wizened old figure smiled and pointed a thin finger.

"I know you..." His voice snapped and crackled, as his eyes took them in. "You're Gnurl Plodt and his daughter, Bramid."

...No...

The little Jedi VBV Gadabout backtracked just a bit.

To Blahmon, where they found the real Wizard Man, a fat little heap sitting under a striped brella with a lap full of Bezo haunch.

"Chef Gorner? Yeh, yeh...go over tew Morga IV. Little git's gotta beeg cooker-place, lotsa chimblies and smokes. Yew ken smack'im wun fur me, boys."

And so they would!

Morga IV!

Yes! Morga IV! Not III! Not VI! Not XIII! Not! Important!

The home of Little Jok Gorner, Spice Thief of the Galaxy. Soon to be Bloaty Jok Gorner, the home of Jedi Pie!

Come on, you wicky little rags! My knives are sharp! My oven is hot! My pastry is ready, ready, ready!

Two Intrepid Jedi were skulking behind the lone tree overlooking the lopsided pile that was the Cookery. Plans were Laid and Ready. Jedi Skills honed with years of experience laughed in the face of possible danger.

Ha!

Clanggg! Thud...

Two woozy Jedi were hanging by their feet next to a very ripe samato, listening to a hairy voice chanting in the distance.

"Mix one up, mix one down,
Mix one with the shin bone round.
Mix one high, mix one low,
Mix one with the last elbow."

Chop, chop, chop. Scrape, scrape, scrape.

"Turn one here, turn one there,
Turn one short to make him rare.
Turn one fast, turn one neat,
Turn one over and then let's eat!"

Skippety-skippety skip, Little Jok came capering over to gaze up at his pie fillings. " Just a little more, my dainties! My pastry is ready, the oven is hot and soon, you will fill up my tum!"

Humming to himself, he went merrily back to his chopping block, oblivious to what was happening behind him.

Silly Jok. Did he think he could keep a Jedi down? Ummm, up? Did he think he could whack a Jedi and walk away?! Did he think Jedi are made of Goota feathers?!!

Oh No Ho Ho Hoooo!

Back and forth, back and forth, slowly gaining momentum, Our Jedi swung by their tootsies, gathering the Famous Force around their very bodies. Little Jok Gorner was in for the Fricassee of his Life!

Kapluzzzzz! Pooooossssshhh!

Thunk! Thunk! Watch out, Jokky-boy! This food's got legs!

Sabers a'blaze, The Mighty Qui-Gon and His Perfect Padawan came stalking across the Wicked Kitchen, the Dastardly Chef locked in their sights.

Little Jok Gorner turned around and, grinning a snakey sort of grin, reached out to push a teeny weeny button on the wall.

Poing! In a flash of color, the room was filled with flying veggies. Ducking bonions and feppies, eggbuds and gickery, the Plucky Pair fought their way toward the huge pie plate waiting in front of the stove. It was filled to the brim with thick, sticky pastry. And in the center stood Chef Gorner, maniacal laughter simmering through his every pore.

"Jedi, Jedi, roast and boil! Jedi, Jedi, stew and broil!" He danced and strutted, waving his Big Baster to and fro, laughing non-stop.

Slicing and dicing their way forward, veggie fragments littering the floors and walls, our Heroic Duo reached the Prodigious Pie Plate, where a slowly growing mound of chopped veggies was rising. Slashing and whacking, Jedi sabers met veggie innards as the pile in the pan began to cover the Mad Chef, until it quite reached the top of his shoulders. Surrounded by pulp and pastry, he turned deranged eyes on Master and Apprentice and opened his mouth for one last ditty.

Goooosh!

Somato one, Gorner zero.

The oblate moon peered gently through the tall, open window, somewhere in the towering bulk of the Universally Famous and Awesome Jedi Temple.

"Master." Sip.

"Yes, my Obi-Wan." Slurp.

"Are Passa Berries addictive?" Lick. Sip. Lick.

"Now why would you ask that, Padawan Mine?" Sip. Gargle.

"Well, there seems to be a rather large supply in our pantry." Slurp. Nibble. "Boxes and boxes." Nip.

"Ah, yes." Lick. Nibble. "I am conducting a long range experiment, my Padawan." Suck. Sip. Snork. "How does the consumption of Passa berries affect stamina..." Lick. Slobber. "...in certain...endeavors..." Nibble. Bite.

Our dear oblate moon decided to visit the backside of an interested cloud.

"And what conclusion..." Gnaw. Suck. "...have you come to, my Qui- Gon?" Bite. Suck. Gobble.

Drool. Slurp. "Pass me that basket of experimental comestibles, my Obi-Wan..." Suck. Gulp. "...and I will detail my every conclusion..."

The Storyteller breathed a moment and looked at his hands. They only shook a little.

[Is this another fit?]

...What?...

[You know...One of those falling down things.]

...Falling down...?...No! Go away...

[Wait! Can we have some pie?]

...?...

[Like Our Heroes...]

...!...(Sith...)...Go to the kitchens! Go away!

[Yay! See ya!]

Maybe!...Maybe...Right now I'll just...

Thud!

Fall over...

The End