Summary: Breaking the fourth wall can be fun. So can making Garen and Siri behave badly at a funeral.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars concept; Lucasfilm does. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No credits have changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master of Anakin Skywalker, thirty-five, gorgeous, with long ginger hair, bearded and seemingly serene, lies motionless on the pyre. Dead of a blaster bolt to the heart, his friends have gathered around him in honor and grief.
Garen Muln stands by the body, and bows his head. "Oh, Obi-Wan, you damned fool. You should have ignored the girl and watched out for the bounty hunter instead."
Siri Tachi moves up to the mourning Knight, and putting all trepidation aside, pulls him into her comforting embrace. As his arms tighten around her waist in remorse and sadness, she says in a whisper, "Garen, what can we do? He's dead." Her eyes begin to fill with tears. "I'll miss him so much."
His strong arms pull her closer for a brief emotional hug but then he stands back, watching her face as he says, "Siri, I know this isn't the right time but I've always loved you. Now that Kenobi is gone, can you ever thinking about loving me, too?"
The joy in her eyes was amazing and then their bodies clashed in a passionate embrace. Hands groping, lips traveling over skin, tasting, marking territory as if the hunger that swept through them would eat them alive. Behind the two lovers, the pyre began to burn brightly and the smell of burning flesh permeates the room.
Coming up for air, Siri moans, "Garen, I've always loved you. I was just using Obi-Wan to make you jealous. Oh, Garen, kiss me. Love me."
As the flames of passion engulf the two Jedi Knights and the body of Obi-Wan Kenobi collapses into ash, Yoda looks at the writers in disgust. "Kill Obi-Wan you will not or suffer this fate of bad romance you will. Now, off with you and write happy, romantic things. Disgusting this is. Siri! Garen! Stop this you will..."