Title: Artistic Liscense (1/?)
Author: metapix
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Parody of slash and pre-TPM fanfic in general. A special behind-the-scenes look at how fics are created.
Feedback: YES!! It's imperative. Ask me why later.
Archive: Tell me first, mmkay?







"So...Where are we starting again?"

"We could start on the planet itself or explain that later."

"Yes, yes. Let's, uh, take it from the Jedi council and then go from there then."

"All right! You heard the man people; take your positions please."

**********

Obi-Wan and Qui Gon sat stiffly to Mace Windu's lecture. He was explaining their mission to them detail by excruciating detail, and Obi-Wan was having a difficult time just staying awake.

**********

"Wait a minute, wait a minute...So Obi-Wan Kenobi, extensively trained in the Jedi arts of control and comprehension, cannot seem to muster any interest in a prep meeting that could end up saving his life?!"

"Well...you see sir...technically he isn't a knight yet, right? And in this story, he's only...where's that sheet...uh...he's only...23. Well, that's a bit old. Do you want to change it...?"

"Oh, nevermind...no one will notice anyway. Let's just move on, shall we?"

"Okay people, great job so far! Let's carry on!"

**********

Obi Wan stifled a yawn as Qui Gon jabbed him angrily in the ribs.

"Pay attention, Padawan!" he hissed.

"...and the people of Endabon view our involvement as inappropriate, claiming the Federation is policing the galaxy where it has no right. We have tried explaining to them that their dispute with the Fanians *does* involve us, since they are...Obi-wan, are you feeling flushed?"

"Sorry Mas-ow! Uh, Master Windu, I haven't been feeling the best this morning. You were talking about land use rights between the colonies?"

"Yes..." he smiled thoughtfully, "about ten minutes ago..."

"Oh, uh," Obi-Wan spluttered, "could you, uh, go over that part again?"

"Mmm, I've said enough. Your master can fill you in."

Obi-Wan stared at the floor as Windu rose to leave, mentally kicking himself for his inattentiveness.

**********

"Now, is that a force kick or just a-"

"Figure of speech sir. Can't we go on?"

"I still think he's a bit old for this sort of stupidity...I've changed my mind-Make him fourteen!"

"Right sir. New Obi-Wan, fourteen years old! Hurry if you want to eat lunch!"

**********

"Master, what's going on now? What's the mission about?"

"If I told you, *young* padawan, you wouldn't learn your lesson." He smiled, content with his reasoning, and checked that all the instruments were in order.

**********

"Cut, cut! This is absurd! *I'm* not content with his reasoning!"

"But, it has a humorous quality, don't you think sir?"

"Well...perhaps to an extent, but logic dictates-"

"If you don't mind my saying so, logic rarely plays a key role in most PWP fics. Consider it a suspense builder."

"Fine, fine! Let's just get on with it."

**********

"Master, *what* *is* the mission about?" Obi-Wan tried feebly for about the hundredth time.

"Honestly padawan! We're just settling a simple trade dispute. Sound familiar? If you listened half as hard as you complained you'd know that!"

"Well, that meeting was very long for such a simple matter. Why did Master Windu drone on like that?"

"Nevermind it...we're approaching Finias. Phota Menzar will be greeting us."

**********

"Wait! Now who's *this* person?"

"Arbitrary character. This is quasi Obi POV. We don't really know-a ruler or something."

"But this is blatant inattentiveness to detail!"

"But it's irrelevant to the story's final conclusion...can't we just go on?"

"Well, as long as there are results soon...I'm the director, you know."

"Yes, your lordship."

**********

"Greetings, ambassadors! Welcome to Finias, the galaxy's largest producer of carnal spice."

Obi-Wan nearly blanched in horror and embarrassment. How could his master have surprised him like this?

"Yes, until recently, I've been told. This title is now jeopardized by the Endians, I understand?" Qui Gon queried, shooting Obi-Wan a scathing look.

"Unfortunately..." replied Menzar carefully. "In truth, I fear hostile tactics could be employed to usurp us of our rightful mines. Do you have any plans for the negotiations?"

"Some, but please, my padawan and I need rest at the moment."

**********

"Just a moment, I apologize, but I can't restrain myself anymore. What the hell is "carnal spice" and is it cannon?"

"It's an...aphrodisiac of sorts, not strictly cannon no but what with all the EU flying about these days, who's to say what's legitimate and what's not? Not George Lucas, so it's up to us to define and-"

"I stopped listening at aphrodisiac. This is supposed to be a mission story-What happened to the mission?!"

"Don't worry, it's there, waiting to be resolved while other things develop...Places people!"

**********

"How inconsiderate of me!" He signaled a scantily clad serving girl, hwo led them to their quarters.

"Everything should be in order," she said, leading them through the spatious entryway. "There is a comlink to the servants and several bottles of spice if the urge should strike." She left them quickly with a wink, not waiting for explanations.

"Nice room," Obi-Wan tried, breaking the tension that had been mounting. He looked around, noting the solitary sleep couch and, in the 'fresher unit, an ostenstious bathtub easily accomodating three or more. He swallowed at the possibilities.

"I'm getting some sleep padawan," Qui Gon sid, following his gaze with longing. "You should do the same."

They both looked at the single sleep couch; Obi-Wan blushed a deep crimson, hiding his desire.

"That's all right...I, uh, would rather take a walk, I think," he said, quickly stepping out the door before his master could speak. *His* master. Master. He smiled to himself.

Outside, the sun shone brightly in Obi-Wan's eyes. He didn't really want to walk, so he went to the gardens nearby as he dreamily envisioned Qui Gon's rough hands. He saw them, felt them drift down his chest to his waist where they would grip his throbbing-

**********

"Cut! No! Sorry, this cannot go on! This is vile...this is, this is illegal!"

"Sir, you're acting hysterical. It's a slashfic for God's sake, what do you expect?"

"What?! Where's the script? Why wasn't I told this was slash?! '...grabbed his quivering buttocks in an attempt to pry them...' This is foul! He's only fourteen, and that ogreous old goat is past 50! I could get ina lot of trouble for this!"

"With all due respect, you *did* insist on that point. Shall we change the age *again*?"

"More like the story...yes! Yes! At *least* 23. And tone it down! The devil's probably having a heyday!"

"........FINE!!! OkAY people, we're going to *ruin* the *whole* story to make prudish pricks such as our friend here keep their stomachs in check!!"

"Er...yes...let's, uh, continue on then, shall we?"

**********

-lightsaber. Obi-Wan looked down at his belt, where the hilt was twitching erratically. "Low frequency," he muttered, quickly switching it off.

"Have you settled in all right?" said a voice, startling Obi-Wan. It was the scantily clad serving girl from earlier. "Have you enjoyed any of our wares yet?"

"Oh, um...The room's quite nice, though a cot would be useful," he said, feigning a smile. "Drugs are strictly against the code, however, though my master is nearly obsessed with getting me drunk on missions. He claims I'm too uptight." He smiled for real this time. Tight indeed, he thought.

"Would you like to see the embassy?" asked the girl, not really paying attention.

Obi-Wan nodded, tired of looking at the ducks and sensing there was something whe wanted to show him.

TBC?