He fuckin' hated their dumbass questions, he fuckin' hated how they were retards at using the Force, he fuckin' hated how they invariably deflected bolts fired at them directly at his fuckin' balls.
The council, in its infinite wisdom, had decided to appoint Master Windu as a teacher for the next three months, for what they deemed was inappropriate behavior becoming one of his stature. Said inappropriate behavior involving telling young Anakin Skywalker, "Kid, shut the fuck up and stop whinin' about your dumbass mom." Said whining (which was actually sobbing) had resulted from a bad dream, Anakin later reported, in which his mother was killed by sand people from his home planet of Tattooine.
XXXX
"Master Windu, harsh on young Skywalker, you were," Yoda had scolded him. "Said you threatened to tear his arms off, he did."
"Ah, that kid is full of shit," Mace had replied. "I said I'd tear his head off," he elaborated. "After which, I would shit down his goddamn neck."
Yoda then sighed and longed for his days as a padawan centuries ago, when he didn't have to deal with borderline psychotics like Master Windu and Oppo Rancisis. Not to mention the lunatic Qui-Gon Jinn, who hadn't even let death stop him from hounding Yoda about being mindful of the 'living Force'. "Master Windu, this dislike for children, unnerving it is. A true Jedi should embrace all forms of life."
"Go fuck a rancor, then," Mace had responded.
Yoda felt a headache coming on. They usually did whenever he talked more than a few minutes with Master Windu. "Master Windu, much suffering comes from the dark side, a path you may take if continue this abberant behavior, you do. Agree with me, the Council does."
"Oh, agree with you, the Council does? They can agree with my dick!"
Yoda banged his walking stick on the ground, his patience wearing thin. "Decided, we have, that you will teach younglings for three standard months."
Mace had done a double take. "Three fuckin' standard months? That's bullshit! I got better shit to do than change some dumbass younglings' diapers!"
"If decline the position you do, a more permanent one waiting for you at the Agricultural Corps is."
At the threat, Mace had shuddered. "I ain't talking to fucking plants for the rest of my fucking life. I did that shit for about two weeks when I was an apprentice. Remember that, Yoda?"
Yoda had nodded solemnly. In the end, they had removed the charred remains of the Jedi Temple's gardens and replaced them from the ground up. Windu was banned from the AgCorps ever since.
XXXX
And that was how Mace came to find himself wrangling younglings.
In Mace's mind, you couldn't teach younglings - they were filthy animals, and you couldn't teach filthy animals. You could wrangle an animal, though, and he did with great intensity.
When Yoda came in to check on Mace after his first fifteen minutes and discovered all the younglings bound and gagged with Mace nowhere in sight, he wondered why the Force he bothered to get out of bed some mornings. He tracked down Mace in his quarters, where he was surfing the Holonet for single Force-sensitive honeys. "Master Windu, dismissed your class early, have you?" Yoda inquired.
"Fuck yeah. This teaching shit's easier than I thought it would be."
Yoda grew stern. "Forbidden you are from tying up any students, Master Windu. Sets a bad example, it does."
Mace sighed and threw the datapad at the floor, where it shattered into a hundred pieces. "You little green fuckstick. You give me some bullshit punishment job, and then tell me how best to do it?"
"Open still is the spot in the Agricultural Corps."
Mace glared hard at Yoda, who wore the smug grin only a sentient approaching their thousandth birthday could bear. "Alright, goddamnit."
XXXX
Mace walked into the classroom of younglings for the second time in as many days, strutting in with a steely face. His gaze swept the student body, causing all the younglings to flinch. He smiled inwardly, proud of that accomplishment. "Greetings. My name is Master Windu, and today we'll be learning about...oh Christ," Windu muttered, upon seeing one of the younglings raise their hands. "What is it?"
The youngling stood up. "Master Windu, what's wrong with your skin?"
Mace's face screwed up for a moment as he struggled to understand the question. "What the fuck are you talking about? My skin? What the fuck is wrong with my skin?"
"It's...all brown and stuff."
"You mean my skin color? Have you never seen a black person before?" All the younglings shook their head. Mace snorted. "Figures. There's about five brothers in this whole goddamn galaxy."
"You have brothers?" the youngling asked.
"I DIDN'T SEE A HAND RAISED!" Mace screamed at the top of his lungs, using the Force to propel himself inches away from the junior Jedi. "YOU RAISE YOUR GODDAMN HAND IN THE FUTURE, YOU GOT THAT?" The youngling nodded, too busy sobbing in fear to answer. "That's fucking better." Mace strode back to his desk and leaned back in the chair. "Does anybody else have a stupid-ass question before we continue on with the lesson?"
Another youngling timidly raised her hand. Upon a nod from Mace, she stood and spoke. "Master Windu, why do you have a purple lightsaber? Everyone else has a blue one or a green one or a red one."
"It's so I can tell which one is me in big crowd scenes, and I can count all the motherfuckers I've killed."
"I heard..." She trailed off at Mace's glare, shooting her hand into the air almost hard enough to dislocate her shoulder. Mace nodded, placated. "I heard you got your crystal from a crystal being on Hurikane."
At that, Mace cracked a smile and laughed out loud. "Shit, you believe that dumbass shit? Yoda and that old cunt Jocasta Noob edit everything that goes into the Archives, even personal diaries and shit."
She raised her hand again. Upon Mace's nod, she spoke. "Then, where did you get your purple crystal?"
Mace leaned forward now, his brow furrowed in thought. "That was a long time ago, and it's a long-ass story. It all started...on the Planet of the Grapes."