Disclaimer: Oh, why bother, you know I don't own Star Wars…or do I?
The Adventures of Captain Eyhole, Master Yoda, and Shathead
Chapter 1 – The Sac
It was a cold summer day, when three old adventurers were out stargazing. On this very clear night, which happened to include a lot of rain, they were all contemplating what had become of their nemesis, Horny Evil Puck, a rather rotund individual, who constantly came up with nonsensical plans of galactic domination.
"Personally, I think he's retreated in the outer fringes of our great galaxy, Fartifica, to work on his feces-expelling, monkey-navigated donuts plan," said Shathead, who at that moment happened to be eating Riceroni.
"Put down that delicious and affordable product, the San Francisco treat, you must! Laced with drugs, it must be! Why, if I…"
At this point, Master Yoda, who had been speaking, began to stare into space and mumble incoherently about "Space Pepsi."
"Uh, Yoda?" Captain Eyhole began tentatively. "Are you all right?"
Yoda, who was now conversing fluently with a tree, paid him no mind.
"Anyway," Shathead continued, clearly used to these bouts of drug-induced madness, and still eating the Riceroni, "we must plan for the eventuality of…"
He trailed off as Yoda started to twitch madly on the ground while flatulating repeatedly. Finally, he managed to tear his eyes away from the strangely captivating sight, and saw a small figure approaching, which looked like a certain small cylindrical object they knew all too well…
Captain Eyhole immediately jumped into action. Picking up the still-farting, now unconscious Jedi, he chucked the foul smelling body at the incoming enemy.
It did not take long for the gas to take effect. The figure stumbled to a stop, then fell to the ground, coughing. It was not until they heard muffled cries of, "Cleek…cleek," that they realized their mistake.
"Clock of Justice!" they cried in unison, and rushed forward to help their overwhelmed friend.
The stench was so bad that neither Eyhole nor Shathead could come within 10 feet of their companions. Eventually, using an elaborate contraption of Graham crackers, hoola hoops, and sharpened toothbrushes, they managed to extract Clock of Justice from the twisted pile of arms, legs, and flatulation.
Still reeling from the onslaught of smells, Clock of Justice managed a weak, "Cleeeeeeek…" before collapsing on the ground.
The next morning, Eyhole, Shathead and Yoda were all asleep in a shelter, with Yoda still occasionally mumbling about Jabba and Space Pepsi. Suddenly, however, Clock of Justice rushed in, disturbing their peaceful slumber, with a loud cry of, "CLEEK, CLEEK!"
"What's that?" Eyhole asked, "Horny Evil Puck has come up with another plan for galactic domination, this time involving pizzas, ninchucks, and evil weasels, and we have to go to the planet of Ica Crema to stop him or everything will fall into his evil clutches? What are we waiting for? Are you ready, Yoda?"
Yoda, who apparently hadn't taken in a word of this, stumbled around drunkenly, and shot force lightning at passing squirrels.
Shaking his head, Shathead replied, "We have to go now. Every second we waste old Pucky could be gathering more pizza, buying more ninchucks, and infesting more weasels. We must hurry." Looking slightly hopeful, he added, "Plus, there might be Ice Cream on the way."
"Why do I feel frightened that the galaxy's fate will be decided by me, a clock, a delusional Jedi Master, and a guy name Shathead?"
At this point, Yoda, who was staring almost reverently at his fingertips, decided to shoot off a burst of lightning. As he lay there unconscious, Eyhole decided he was better off not knowing the answer.
* * *
As Captain Eyhole brought down his ship, the Millennium Phoker, he wondered what he had done to deserve his lot in life. To go to Ica Crema, they first had to come up with a cover identity, since the planet was under the control of Horny Evil Puck and his Umpires. And of course, the identity he got stuck with had to be the cross dressing, ninja mutant-freak, who happened to have an affection for pink.
Of all the things in the galaxy he hated, pink had to rank as the foremost.
The others were much more lucky. Yoda, with his small, green, frog-like stature, was acting as the group's pet, Shathead was a strange, duck-shaped alien who had formed a cult based on a block of wood, and Clock of Justice was a…well, clock.
They landed in docking bay 13, and walked down the ramp of their ship. Leaving the bay, they were met face to face with a customs official.
"Identifications," the tall, balding man demanded, clearly bored out of his mind.
Giving them a quick glance, barely even noting their names, he cleared them for passage. Shathead, however, had an objection.
"Uh, sir, aren't you required by law to say each person's name into that computer there, for the record?"
Grumbling, the man complied until he reached Captain Eyhole.
"Uh, Fa Q.- er, that is to say, Mr. Eyho- oh, just pass," he mumbled, clearly flustered.
Shathead, who seemed to be taking a perverse pleasure in this, insisted.
"Sir," he said in a surprised voice, "it's the law."
"Er, yes, uh, very well then. Captain Fa Q. Eyhole," he mumbled in a low voice.
"What was that, I didn't catch it," Shathead said, still grinning.
"Fa Q. Eyhole," he said a bit louder.
"A little louder."
"FA Q. EYHOLE!" the official screamed.
"What!" Eyhole said in a shocked and indignant tone. "I'm going to report you for foul language! Good day to you, sir!" He stalked off, clearly fuming.
Once they got out of earshot, they burst out laughing.
"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Eyhole asked between fits of laughter.
Shathead, who was now rolling on the ground, nearly in tears, couldn't answer.
* * *
The next day, the four travelers planned to meet their contact, who was a mole inside Puck's operations. Their point of contact was a dark abandoned alleyway, with a tall brick wall blocking the end of it. As they reached it, they saw that it was called "Ambush Avenue," and the walls seemed to be stained with an inordinate amount of blood. They walked down it, only to find a large, rodent like creature standing there, pointing a blaster at them.
Totally oblivious to these alarming signs, Shathead continued on, and waved at the figure.
"How are you? Lovely weather, isn't it? Are you waiting for someone?"
A low hiss emitted from the figure. "Yesss…yesss I am." The creature seemed to emphasize "S" sounds.
"Really? So were we. What a coincidence! Are you the mole?" Shathead continued.
"I am here give you a messssage."
"It's funny, cause when you said mole, we thought you meant a mole as in spy. But here you are, an actual mole."
"And to kill you."
"That's a pretty clever use of word play, but you best be careful. The planetary government wouldn't look too kindly on false advertisement. People will start to think you'll spy for them. Now if you – MESSAGE!? What kind of message? I think that you should tell us what it – KILL US?! Now wait just a minute here!
The mole blinked, apparently stunned at Shathead's stupidity. Then, he jumped into action, lunging at Eyhole.
Before he could reach him however, Yoda yelled, "DUCK, you must!"
Everyone hit the ground, including Shathead, who got to his knees, and started calling, "Here, ducky ducky ducky."
Meanwhile, a second assassin had appeared in the alleyway, and without pausing, shot at the three companions. Thanks to Yoda's warning, the bolt traveled straight over their heads, and struck the mole. He collapsed, a gaping hole where his chest has been.
Yoda then leapt up and made quick work of the mole's partner: One burst of explosive flatulence, and the hairy alien collapsed to the ground, futilely trying to covering his nose.
Unfortunately, the oppressive smell had reached all the other companions, and all the occupants of the alley collapsed.
Shathead, however, wasn't in the alley anymore.
His continued belief that there was a duck nearby, and his subsequent desire to eat said duck, had led him out of the alleyway, into the street. Upon returning, disappointed and duck-less, he saw his collapsed companions. Shrugging, he too collapsed on the ground, instantly asleep and snoring.
* * *
Captain Eyhole woke up, and was momentarily confused because he couldn't see anything, and couldn't remember under what circumstances he had gone to sleep in. Suddenly, the events of the alleyway rushed back to him, which explained why he had fallen asleep, but not his inability to see. Wondering if Yoda's stench had somehow blinded him, he tried to get a sense of his surroundings. He could feel a body up against him that he assumed was Shathead, and a small cylinder jabbing into his side told him Clock of Justice was still here. Now where was…
A soft "phfft" escaped from behind him, a horrible scent wafted up to his nose.
…Yoda.
"The Sac," the small, froglike creature spoke softly, leaving the Captain confused.
"What?" he asked.
"The Sac," Yoda repeated. "The Sac surrounds us…binds us…"
Now Shathead, apparently awake, spoke up. "This Sac…is it some kind of mystical energy force that specially trained individuals can use to read minds, see the future, and lift objects into the air?"
"No," Yoda replied, "we're in one."
"Oh."
There was a ripping sound, and suddenly all four travelers fell to the ground, and with the sudden noontime light that followed came a flash of understanding for Captain Eyhole. They had been in some kind of bag, which explained the darkness and the slight swaying motion he had been feeling. But who had been carrying them?
His question was answered when a sagely old voice spoke from above them.
Standing above the four of them was a tall, dark-haired man. He appeared quite strong, yet something about him suggested that he didn't need any physical strength. A bit of grey creeping into his temples suggested he had experience to back up his strength, physical or otherwise. Finally, he had a growth on his neck that strangely resembled a Buick.
"Good afternoon. I would say that I have been wondering when our paths would cross, but that is not true. Through the Sac, I have foreseen our meeting, and my part in the events of yesterday."
Stunned by this extraordinary pronouncement, and the man's the car-like bulge it took Captain Eyhole a few seconds to realize what this man was saying.
Finally, he regained his voice. "Yesterday? Where we out that long?"
The man, whoever he was, blinked, and then smiled. "Yes…stench, can be a powerful ally."
"Right," Eyhole said dryly. "I'll keep that in mind. Who are you, anyway?'
"The name that you would be most familiar with, the name that you would be most…comfortable with, is Steer Cofax. However, I consider names to be below me."
Steer Cofax?
"The Steer Cofax? The 'Man with the Car-Scar?' The 'Not-so-Steely Wheely?' The 'Steering Wheel?'"
The man, Steer Cofax, looked extremely annoyed. He sniffed, and said, "Yes, if you prefer my more colorful nicknames."
"I've always wanted to meet you, Car-Scar. How did you get that thing, anyway? I heard ol' Steen Paton got the better of you."
"Why is it that none of my nicknames for Paton stick?" Steer mused, idly. "No-Spleen Steen? Fat Pat?" He shook his head. "In any case, yes, if you must know, my rival did get the best of me that day, and stuck me with this…growth, if you will. In doing so he hurt me in a way that no physical injury could do. He took my credibility, and my reputation, and I intend to have full payback for those crimes. Now, I believe you," pointing at Shathead, "have been meaning to ask me what the Sac is for quite some time now."
Shathead looked shocked, and then nodded.
"The Sac is a mystical energy force," Steer began without preamble. "Specially trained individuals are able to use it to read minds, see into the future, and lift objects into the air. Your friend Yoda here is a master of the Sac."
Everyone looked at Yoda, shocked. The small creature nodded, sighing.
"True this is. When stoned I am not, use the Sac, I can. But in levitation and mind reading, my talents lay not. Very rare, my skill is. Hear the Background Music, I can."
"The Background Music?" Shathead asked, confused.
Now Steer spoke again. "Yes. As strange as it may seem, some scientists believe that creatures from distant galaxies are watching us for their amusement. Therefore, it makes sense that these creatures would want music to fit their 'plays.' Someone as skilled as Yoda is able to hear this music, and decipher what it may mean."
"So he can read the future?" Eyhole asked excitedly.
"Yes and no."
"Do you ever give a straight answer?" Shathead interrupted.
Steer smiled, shook his head, and continued. "In certain situations, yes, Yoda can interpret the music with enough clarity to understand what may happen next. What he did in the alley was an example of this. He heard the 'bad-guy-is-sneaking-up-on-the-good-guys-so-it's-time-to-duck' music. In certain situations, however, when the 'playmakers' want suspense, they use little or no music, making it difficult for Yoda to read."
Just then, Shathead spoke up. "One question."
Steer smiled. "Go ahead," he said, and they all waited with anticipation as to what thought Shathead's brain had deemed important enough to speak aloud.
"What happened to the duck?"