This is (loosely) based on a true story. DO NOT ATTEMPT THIS! I AM NOT
RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONSEQUENCES! I will review your story if you ask me
to in a review. See my profile for details.
I don't own them.
Fifteen year old Obi-Wan Kenobi was mad. Really mad. Really really mad. Really really really mad. Really really . . . I think you get the picture. Anyway, he was mad. Really -
Okay, I'll stop.
He was mad at everything. He was mad at his master for dragging him off to this toilet-bowl-of-the-galaxy world, mad at the Council for letting Qui- Gon take him along, mad at the planetary government for saying he had to attend school during the mission, and mad at some guy named George for the mullet he'd get in twenty years.
He couldn't even see the point. As a Jedi, he had received the best education possible by the age of 13. There was nothing the idiots here could teach him.
Finally, he heard the bell ring. Time to go off to his next "class," Galactic Politics. According to one of the other students, they were taking a pop quiz on the Jedi Order. Obi-Wan expected it to be laughably easy.
He pressed his way through the seething crowd, making his way to the lockers. He found his and entered the combination, jerking the handle up.
Nothing happened.
Cursing under his breath, Obi-Wan entered the numbers again. He pulled up the handle. . .
Nothing.
Frustrated, Obi-Wan began punching the numbers a third time. He felt a tap on his shoulder and whipped around.
"Hey, why are you trying to get into my locker?" A shrimpy kid stood behind Obi-Wan, popping his gum noisily.
"Sorry." Obi-Wan sheepishly looked up at the number. Sure enough, he was one locker to the left. He moved over and re-entered the combination. This time, he pulled as hard as he could, drawing on the Force to help him.
The locker opened with a clang, catapulting the Padawan backwards. He skidded to a stop on his rear, three feet away from the locker.
Obi-Wan got to his feet. /At least it's open,/ he thought, wrestling with a binder. "Get out, you, stupid-" he panted, yanking the folder so hard it shot out of the locker and hit him in the eye. The edge of the locker tore his hand, ripping off the skin.
Obi-Wan stared at the wound. "That's it," he said, whipping out his lightsaber. Ignoring the blood dripping onto the floor, he furiously attacked the locker. "I - have - fucking - had - it!" he screamed, reducing the locker to a pile of molten metal and paper.
Two hours later he was sitting next to his master in the speeder that would take him back to the spaceport. "So, you got expelled after three days," Qui-Gon commented.
"I'm very sorry, Master," Obi-Wan said, trying to hide his glee. Expulsion was probably the best thing that could have happened to him.
"I mean, you could have tried to stay in for another hour. That was all it would have taken for me to beat Yoda and win the pool."
Obi-Wan was stunned. "The pool?!?!?!?!?" he asked incredulously.
"The betting pool! Because you got kicked out, I lost 75 credits!"
Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon. "Council members and Jedi Masters gamble?"
"Of course we do!" Qui-Gon screamed, his face turning a funny shade of purple. "How else are we supposed to have fun?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. /You learn something new every day,/ he thought, figuring it was probably for the best if he didn't ask any more questions.
Well, thanks for reading this far. All reviews are welcome, even flames. Don't forget to click on that little box down in the lower left corner!
Happy Birthday Neko (ha ha you'll never get us to stop using that!)
I don't own them.
Fifteen year old Obi-Wan Kenobi was mad. Really mad. Really really mad. Really really really mad. Really really . . . I think you get the picture. Anyway, he was mad. Really -
Okay, I'll stop.
He was mad at everything. He was mad at his master for dragging him off to this toilet-bowl-of-the-galaxy world, mad at the Council for letting Qui- Gon take him along, mad at the planetary government for saying he had to attend school during the mission, and mad at some guy named George for the mullet he'd get in twenty years.
He couldn't even see the point. As a Jedi, he had received the best education possible by the age of 13. There was nothing the idiots here could teach him.
Finally, he heard the bell ring. Time to go off to his next "class," Galactic Politics. According to one of the other students, they were taking a pop quiz on the Jedi Order. Obi-Wan expected it to be laughably easy.
He pressed his way through the seething crowd, making his way to the lockers. He found his and entered the combination, jerking the handle up.
Nothing happened.
Cursing under his breath, Obi-Wan entered the numbers again. He pulled up the handle. . .
Nothing.
Frustrated, Obi-Wan began punching the numbers a third time. He felt a tap on his shoulder and whipped around.
"Hey, why are you trying to get into my locker?" A shrimpy kid stood behind Obi-Wan, popping his gum noisily.
"Sorry." Obi-Wan sheepishly looked up at the number. Sure enough, he was one locker to the left. He moved over and re-entered the combination. This time, he pulled as hard as he could, drawing on the Force to help him.
The locker opened with a clang, catapulting the Padawan backwards. He skidded to a stop on his rear, three feet away from the locker.
Obi-Wan got to his feet. /At least it's open,/ he thought, wrestling with a binder. "Get out, you, stupid-" he panted, yanking the folder so hard it shot out of the locker and hit him in the eye. The edge of the locker tore his hand, ripping off the skin.
Obi-Wan stared at the wound. "That's it," he said, whipping out his lightsaber. Ignoring the blood dripping onto the floor, he furiously attacked the locker. "I - have - fucking - had - it!" he screamed, reducing the locker to a pile of molten metal and paper.
Two hours later he was sitting next to his master in the speeder that would take him back to the spaceport. "So, you got expelled after three days," Qui-Gon commented.
"I'm very sorry, Master," Obi-Wan said, trying to hide his glee. Expulsion was probably the best thing that could have happened to him.
"I mean, you could have tried to stay in for another hour. That was all it would have taken for me to beat Yoda and win the pool."
Obi-Wan was stunned. "The pool?!?!?!?!?" he asked incredulously.
"The betting pool! Because you got kicked out, I lost 75 credits!"
Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon. "Council members and Jedi Masters gamble?"
"Of course we do!" Qui-Gon screamed, his face turning a funny shade of purple. "How else are we supposed to have fun?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. /You learn something new every day,/ he thought, figuring it was probably for the best if he didn't ask any more questions.
Well, thanks for reading this far. All reviews are welcome, even flames. Don't forget to click on that little box down in the lower left corner!
Happy Birthday Neko (ha ha you'll never get us to stop using that!)
