Series: The Storyteller (12/?)
Pairing: Q/O
Category: Humor, Adventure, AU
Rating: PG
Archive: MA
Warnings: Beware! (sits grinning like a maniac while fondling
beloved plushies) Here be music, singing and no dancing!
Spoilers: None
Summary: Where have all the Kwowburgers gone? The Mighty
Qui-Gon and his Obi-Wan will surely find out!
Feedback: Is always appreciated! Pos or neg!
Disclaimer: These characters are not now, nor ever have been,
mine. I have not earned, nor ever will earn, a cent from using
them.
Note: Although this Story can be read without singing, if you
would like to sing, I have listed the tunes used. These
all come (mostly) from my childhood and are quite common (or
used to be!) in the U.S., so I apologize if some are
unfamiliar. But you can always make up your own tune... [g]
I'm An Old Cowhand
Polly Wolly Doodle
She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain
Home On the Range
Billy Boy
Let's Call the Whole Thing Off
B-I-N-G-O
The Man From La Mancha
The Night Has a Thousand Eyes
Alouette
The Battle of New Orleans
Overture
Deep in the heart of the Garden of Generous Flexibility, a
group of Young Ones sat, staring at each other with tiny
worried frowns all over their tried-and-true faces. In their
midst was...A Padd...
[You think it's ready?]
[Well... I don't know. I think it's ready...but...]
[The songy part is pretty good, don't you think?]
[Yeah. Yeah. That part's okay. And the rest...]
[Yeah, the rest...]
[Hey, look! There's the Storyteller. Let's let him see it!]
Yes, indeed. Tacking across the wind came the Storyteller. And
with a whoosh and a whirl of cloak, he settled gently at the
base of the Norla tree and observed the tense faces before him.
Two very fine brows were raised in question.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then...
[Umm...We had this assignment from Master Gurdil...]
[Yeah... To write a H'Opperetta, about our favorite
characters. You know, with songs and stuff...]
[Yeah. And we're done but we don't know if it's...ummm...you
wanna read it?]
The Storyteller had fond memories of Master Gurdil. At the
least, he'd been an unforgettable instructor, lecturing a mile
a minute, tentacles flying, multi-pads speckling the floor with
tiny clicks as they whirled him to and fro. And there was that
time he lost one of his eyeballs...
(snork)...Well. (cough) Well, let's see.
And the Storyteller scanned the Padd placed in his waiting
hands.
Who did you chose to...What?!
[Well...(defensive looks)...they are our favorite
characters...]
Yes, but...
[And we got the details from the archives...]
Yes, but...
[Please! (blink, smile, blink-blink)]
The Look bestowed upon the Young Ones was Mighty Stern.
All Right. But This Better Be Good...
He Read On...
Act I
Our scene is the Great Jedi Temple, Restday, Midhour.
Canteen Number Fourteen is open and serving. Business is
brisk!
Suddenly, there is a commotion at the door. The word spreads:
it's Little Green Yoda!
Sure enough, here he comes. All the lads and lasses gather
round the doorway as he enters, singing in his memorable
warble, obviously heading for the counter and his Famous Kwow
Burger and Shake:
"A Kwowpoke I aaaam,
With a steady haaaand.
Prove to you, I maaaay,
Eat the most, I caaaan.
Put the meat, you must, on a Great Big Bun.
Sink my teeth, I will, through the middle and hum.
And the lovely juice, down my chin, will run.
Eating my own, my waa-aay.
Eating my own, my waaaay."
But today, something extraordinary happens. Today, there
is...No Kwow Burger!
"Weskit! Arrived, I have! Ready to eat, I am! Mmmm! Yes!"
"Well, uh, Master... How about some...Blaaht Salad? Very
nice."
"No. Born yesterday, were you? My Kwow Burger. Now."
"Wouldn't you rather have...umm...some Skilge Puddin'? Yeah!"
"Deaf, are you? No Blaaht Salad. No Skilge Puddink. Only Kwow
Burger. Now!"
"Yeah...umm. Yeah. I know...how about a nice juicy bit'a Nork
Steak? Fresh in today!"
"Empty, your brainbox is? Read, you will, my wrinkled little
lips! No Blaaht Salad! No Skilge Puddink! No Nork Steak! Only!
Kwow Burger!"
Little Green Yoda is almost beside himself with annoyance. And
as the Padawans, Knights and Masters gather around in comfort
and sympathy, he pours out his frustration by lamenting:
"To the Rec I went,
Lovely food to eat.
And, by golly, not some noodles, did I siiiing.
Though waited, I did,
For my special treat,
Not a Kwow Burger did they briiiing.
Never do (Never do!), never do (Never do!).
Never do, this will, I saaaay.
Oh, bring to me, my Burger he must,
Or throw him out, I maaaay."
In a fit of frustration and hungar pangs, Little Green Yoda
whacks the nearest shin in sight, which happens to belong to
the Mighty Qui- Gon Jinn, who has been leading the chorus.
Ears pointing straight back, the Diminuitive Master glares at
his former Padawan:
"Your fault, this is!" Whack!
"Master..."
"Know not how, I do! But find out, I shall!" Whack!
"Master!" Whack! "Ow...Wait! Find out, I will...I mean...I
will find out where your Yummy Meat has gone, or my name is not
The Mighty Qui-Gon Jinn!"
Whack! "Go immediately, you should. See, I do not, your moving
feet!" Whack!
The Fortitudinous Jinn jogs surreptitiously to the far side of
the room, shouting:
"Never fear, Master Dear! We will get to the bottom of this
Catastrophe. Just you wait and see!"
Hauling his Delicate Padawan out of a Large Decorative Urn,
from whence he has been taking notes, the Mighty Jinn
high-tails it to the Space Dock, unplugs his trusty Triumph,
schlupps the Plucky Padawan's derrier into the pilot's seat,
and heads for V'Jinyer Prime, the home of the Best Kwow Meat
This Side of Civilized Space!
"Oh, we are goin' to V'Jinyer, here we go!
Yes, we are goin' to V'Jinyer, where, we know...that they are
Meaner on V'Jinyer and they're likely just to skin yer.
But we're goin' to V'Jinyer, here we go!"
Act II
V'Jinyer Prime! The Home of Kwows and Kwow Meat!
V'Jinyer Prime! Rough, tough, shoot'em up country! Where a man
ain't a man till he's worn his Prinkbutt chaps inside out and
kissed his first Kwow...
V'Jinyer Prime! Home of the Rowdiest Family ever in the
history of Economics...the Biggehattes of Barn Ponderony!
The Turgid Triumph lands in the huge Space Port and Feedlot on
the outskirts of the notorious main city of D'Dudge.
Before long, Jedi Charisma and Genteel Republic Credits supply
them with the necessary information: there's a boycott on Meat
for the civilized portion of the Galaxy and the Biggehattes are
behind it!
Hiring two hronks, the local means of four-legged
transportation, the Brave Master and his Stout-Hearted Sidekick
set out for Barn Ponderony, where Bonjie Biggehatte and his
three sons reign supreme!
Oh, give us a Barn and some Kwows with huge horns
And we'll make all the money we caaan.
Spread the word far and near that you better steer clear,
'Cause our guns ca-annot be outraaan.
Baaaarn, Barn Ponderooon-y.
The ex-pensive place we call hoooome-y
Where never is heard or ever inferred
That we've got the Greedy Syndrooome-y.
Act III
Barn Ponderony! The biggest spread on the entire planet of
V'Jinyer!
Barn Ponderony! Home of Bonjie Biggehatte, Head of the
Biggehatte Family, producers of the best Kwow Meat this side of
Force Heaven!
Barn Ponderony! Sure Trouble!
The Dauntless Jedi, after mile upon mile of pasture, grass,
lowing Kwows, and hronk farts finally reach the Gates to the
Biggehatte spread.
And standing there, hands on hips, grinning from ear to
pendulous ear, is Big Bonjie. What a sight he is! Four foot
tall and just as big around, dressed all in leather from his
four-foot neck to his four-inch high heel boots. Face
fluttering with glee, he tugs on the white pigtails falling
haphazardly from under the four-foot tall Hatte perched upon
his bulbous head.
Ranged behind him are his three sons.
Argule Bighatte. Shock of purple hair on top of a seven foot
hide. Spatulate hands just itching to pull the trigger.
Hapless Bighatte. Orange eyebrows whirling in a rotund face.
Double the dimensions of Big Bonjie.
And Little Wuzzy. Two-inch thick spectacles on big yellow
eyes. Four-foot one tall. One-foot four wide.
With wicked grins swaddling their faces, the Biggehatte
Brothers look the Jedi Comrades up and down. Then, deep
sopranos sounding loud and clear, they observe to Big Bonjie:
"Ohh, what have we here, Peepaw dear, Peepaw dear.
Ohh, what have we here, Darlin' Peepaw?"
And Biggehatte's big bass bellows confidingly to the offspring
of his loins.
"They are Jedi from P.C., who are irritating me.
But I don't think they'll cause us any bother."
And now, it's time for some Biggehatte hospitality. One by
one, the Brothers make known their Profound Intelligence.
"Look at them dresses they's wearin', Peepaw!"
"Hey, Peepaw, is they Womens?"
"Yeah, Peepaw, the little one's purty!"
The laughter spurting back and forth is as nasty as can be.
Even the Kwows are starting to snigger.
The Mighty Qui-Gon Jinn decides the time is ripe for
discussion and/or persuasion.
"We have come to investigate the Meat Boycott you Greedy
Bas...um...Kwowpokes have started against your regular
customers. So...what gives?"
He glances fondly at The Handy Apprentice, who observes:
"Likewise."
Big Bonjie is no fool. He's lots of other things, but not
that. So, he explains.
"Money is my Life. The Dark Side of the Galaxy offers Oodles
more than you guys. So, guess what? Kiss your Meaty Parts
good-bye!" His body bulges with laughter. "And don't think you
can change our minds, cause we're Bigge, Badde and Meaner than
Mean. Ha!"
This is Serious!
But the Mighty Qui-Gon is Ready! And the Warning Jingle sounds
loud and clear!
"You say 'don't wanna'.
We say 'you gotta'.
You say 'ain't gonna'.
We say 'too badda'.
Wanna, gotta, gonna, badda.
Let's make the whole thing work."
The Perky Padawan takes up where his Dear Master leaves off:
"You say 'can't make me'.
We say 'we betch'a'.
You say 'can't take me'.
We say we'll fetch ya
One round the ankles and one round the backbone.
So let's make the whole thing work."
For maybe 5 seconds, the Biggehattes simply stand there, eyes
popped wide open, tears streaming down their droopy jowls. Then
they grab each other and fall in a heap, whoops of hysterical
laughter ringing through the Sarge Brush and causing a modicum
of consarn amongst the Kwows lined up on the far side of the
fence, carefully chewing their cow juice.
The Mighty Jinn lifts one daringly sculpted eyebrow.
The Handy Apprentice tosses a crinkly smile in his general
direction.
And Biggehatte has the Last Word. He pulls out a really huge
weapon.
"Now, Gennilmen, this here Shootin' Arne is a Winbacker
Carbeen Re- Peeter which I have built myself. You better clear
out'a D'Dudge by sundown. And I do feel this suggestion is one
you should take real strong-like. Becaaauuuuussse..."
This is, of course, a shameless cue for the Brothers and, as a
peppy tune peeks through the Sarge brush, they commence:
"Bonjie Bigghatte has a gun and
BANGO is its name-o.
B-A-N-G-(bang!)
B-A-N-G-(kapow!)
B-A-N-G-(click...) (dang-it!)
And BANGO is its name-o!
BANGO!"
Ka-boom! Ka-boom! Ka-pow! Three firein' Arnes pinpoint the
last period of the song.
"Peepaw, can we kill'em now? Hee heeeee! I bet they pop!"
"No, no, Dear Son of my body. We'll give them until sundown.
Then...we'll make'em pop!"
Oh, how they laugh then.
So, hronks farting a farewell, the Jedi ride back to D'Dudge
to plan their Strategy.
The Je-di
Have a thousand guuuys,
Yes, a thousand guuuys to make you seeee
That yoouuu are the Enemyyy.
So remember, if you use the Dark Side unwisely,
Je-diiii have a thousand guuuys.
Act IV
Sundown! Deadline of Danger and Duty!
Sundown! No time to Turn Back the Clock!
Sundown! 8:32 Jedi Central Standard and counting!
The Main Street of D'Dudge stands silent and ready. All too
soon, a showdown to beat all showdowns will take place here and
only one side, Dark or Light, will remain standing. Who will it
be?
Suddenly, two figures appear, walking slow and steady down the
middle of the dusty thoroughfare, sturdy bodies reeking of
skill and honity. Master and Apprentice are ready!
They approach the rendezvous point and stop, steeled for
Action!
And there, posed on the porch of the Shiny Toes Sippin'
Parlor, is Bonjie Biggehatte himself, fringely vest all spangly
with fresh sequins, fuzzy Kwowpoke hat velcroed firmly in
place.
He is really a sight.
And, as the background music slowly rises to a dangerous
level, his deep bass-type voice palpitates the air:
"It Is
I, Bonjie Biggehatte, of Barn Ponderony. I'll
Make it real easy to diiiieee. Let me
Show you the way to your choice of The Big One. You
Don't even need a nice tiiieee.
Just wave your swee-tie bye-byyyyeee. "
Big Bonjie makes a flying scoot, covering nearly five inches
in his battle fervor. With a resounding Plop!, he faces the
Stoic Jedi, then beckons, grinning with excess gloat, to his
three dreadful sons, lolling in the shadows of the Parlor
alley.
One by one, they clod forward.
Argule Bigghatte. Number One son. Resplendent in Alabaster
jods and boots of the finest Carnival Glass.
Hapliss Bigghatte. Number Two son. Rotundo Profundo in Yellow
Boa and Carbomite Derby.
And Little Wuzzy. Number Three son. Dazzling in Kwow-Hair
Chaps and Volcano Bouffant.
Grinning lips and sparkling teeth make one thing perfectly
clear...
It is now...sundown!
A deadly silence grips the very air. And then the soft and
deadly chant of Jedi On the Hunt sounds clearly through the
skittering molecules:
"See our Sabers.
See our Mighty Sabers.
They can hurt you in
Very many waaaays.
They can separate your knee
Give your bum the one-two-three.
Separate knee (separate knee),
Missing bum (missing bum),
Ohhhhhhhh....
See our Sabers.
See our Itchy Sabers.
They can hurt you in
Ve-ry man-y waaaaays."
Passing a tiny smirk back and forth, the Great Master and his
Handy Sidekick wait calmly for the Biggehattes to make their
move...
All is silent for, like, three seconds. Then...
The shooting starts!
Four Carbeen Re-peeters bite the air with zipping death!
Pooosh! Wheeeeng! Kappoowww!
The Biggehattes are throwing everything they got at the
Wonderful Master and his Dearest Buddy.
But Look! Not a bolt or zap can strike them! Our Jedi Heroes
are waving their Trusty Sabers with so much Dash and Fervidness
that the bolts and blasts are thrown far away from their very
bodies! And mostly back at the Biggehattes! Hooray!
Blam! Bazooie! Sploingg! Poosshh! Bonjie Biggehatte and his
sons are pushed all the way out of town, dancing now to a Jedi
tune, clothes in smoking shreds. Within a matter of moments,
they have turned tail and got the heck out of D'Dudge.
Once again, the day is saved by The Mighty Qui-Gon Jinn and
His Handy Apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi!
And Little Green Yoda gets his Kwowburgers again, as Brart and
Bette du Radicall, long lost cousins of the Biggehattes, take
over Barn Ponderoney.
And they all live happily ever after.
Yes, they do!
From Canteen Fourteen we took a little ship
To a planet called V'Jinyer, just a little bitty trip.
We took along our Sabers and we settled in our seats,
To find the dirty Kwowpokes who had stolen all the Meat.
Our Sabers lit, we saw the Enemy was commin'.
They wasn't quite as happy as they was a while ago.
We blocked their fire 'til their outfits were a'smokin'
And they turned their wicked hides around and gave up on the
show.
Well, they ran through the wires
And they ran through the pastures
And they ran through the boggies where a Kwowpoke wouldn't go.
They ran so fast that the Jedi couldn't catch'em.
And they're prob'ly still a'runnin' 'cause we'll never holler
'Whoa!'
Hrup! Hroop! Hrip! Hroar! Power Off! Hrip! Hroar!
Hrup! Hroop! Hrip! Hroar!...
Curtain Call
The Storyteller blinked slightly glazed eyes once...twice.
Coughed gently. Took a deep breath...
[You think it's okay to leave out the last bits?]
...?...Last bits...?
[Yeah, you know. Stuff like licking and doozing and all
that...]
...?!...Yes! No! (general waving of hands in the air) That's
just...just...kind of...ummm...
[...(raised eyebrows above curious looks)...]
...just, uhh...oh, you know...umm...
[...stuff?...]
...Yes. ... Stuff.
The Storyteller shot a glare at the young faces around him.
And you know that Master Gurdil only likes pertinent
...Stuff. Now, here's your Padd. Go see if you passed...
[Well, you just be sure and come see us in the Great Hall next
Rest Day.]
...?...What?
[Yeah! If we pass, we get to perform it!]
And as a multitude of feet pounded away across the garden, the
Storyteller sat frozen for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he lay
back on the soft grass.
Watch out, Master Gurdil, wherever you are...
And the sound of muffled chuckling sifted through the
whispering leaves of the Norla tree.
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