A briefing on Potato's history: Darth Shmi reviewed asked about my OC character I will try to explain the origins of Potato. Number one, it's a potato. Don't ask me why, I don't know if me or my sister invented Potato, but it's here. Number two, its Anakin's rival.
History of the spud: Potato, a baked spud, from the planet Owthisishot, is Mace Windu's main apprentice. The baked spuds are a race of giant potatoes that communicate through radio waves. In order to amplify the sounds of these waves they wear tin foil hats.
Forget all that, just know the Potato is Anakin's arch nemesis. He hates it, and it's about to be given its trials, and will become a Jedi before him.
Oh and because some of that written below may make you think I'm a druggy, I just want to let you know I'm not… I scare myself writing this stuff. The closest thing I've been to taking drugs was a little 'buzz' I got from some laughing gas. So don't be scared and get turned off… It's only pasta after all.
That having been said, Anakin may continue now. Listen to his tale of woe and be mortified by its outcome. ( And don't forget to laugh, you know laughter helps you lose weight? I bet some of you are on the floor already : )
Chapter Seven: The Nose Knows
So Master walks in carrying the plate of pink noodles. I couldn't take my eyes off them… So what if they were pink and tasted like old gym socks it didn't matter. Obi Wan made his way to our table and frowned.
"I was the last one in line again; all they had left was noodles. Why do they give us food that no creature in its right mind would eat?!"
I eyed the pasta longingly, suddenly feeling that peanut butter and banana was the most revolting sandwich in the universe.
Master sat down and raised a fork to his mouth. He sniffed the pink stands, his face twisted in disgust. "I can't eat this!" He roared against, "I think it's molded."
Mace shook his head. "No, orange is its natural color. If you heat it up it's not so bad."
All this time my hand had been creeping closer and closer to Master's plate. I got ready to pounce when Obi Wan picked up his tray and moved towards the Microwave. Curses.
I watched hypnotized, as the pasta went in. I needed noodles… I wanted noodles.. I would have sold myself to the Sith for some noodles. No one who hasn't been addicted to something can understand the uncontrollable urges, or the willing want I felt. When the plate started to heat up, and I could smell the intoxicating aroma of the noodles, I had to use all my power not to drool.
I could tell Potato and Mace were staring at me, wondering what my problem was. I wonder the same thing about them… How could they not long for pasta? It was pink pasta, but I only loved it all the more for its radiance.
Peep, went the small oven, announcing to all that its task was complete. Master moved to open the door and I had to brace myself for the heavenly aroma that penetrated the room.
The noodles and all their wonderful pinkness, dripped tantalizing moisture onto the bottom of the plate. Master wrinkled his face, and held the pasta as far away from his nose as possible.
Potato peeped franticly as the smell wafted his way, and Mace pinched his nose. But to me, to me, the aroma of the noodles was heaven and paradise all wrapped up in one.
Master took his seat and somewhat jokingly asked, "Anyone what to switch meals?"
"I do." I muttered unable to come to terms with what was happening. Obi Wan actually wanted to give up those perfect, tasty looking noodles.
"Obi Wan, I'm afraid your since of humor is rubbing off on your Padawan." Mace said not so happily, his voice winy from holding his beak. ( I'm sick of using the word Nose ) "The last thing the order needs is another cheesy joker." Everyone agrees, Master tells the dumbest, most nonsensical, jokes ever.
"I'm not joking, I'd like to switch meals, if that's alright with you Master." Okay so maybe I was respectful then, but I would have done anything to get that Pasta.
Obi Wan exchanged a look with Mace, one like he's-going-to-make-a-fool-out-of-us-again. "Alright Anakin. I'll give you the pasta, what did you bring for lunch. Please don't tell me its pastrami and whipped cream again." Potato beeped in amusement.
I cared not what he said, only what he was about to give me. "I already finished my sandwich, I have a donut, chips, and a chicken salad left." Master groaned bitterly, but he made the change.
Noodles, sweet beautiful noodles, pink wanting noodles. My hands shook violently, as I raised the fork to my mouth, made the necessary force powers and ate it.
I felt as if my life was fine, everything was going well. I took another bite and it felt like bubbles of force were all around me. Multicolored and circular. My hand stretched out, and I tried to pop one, but it remained whole and darted out of the way. I smiled at it.
An eerie feeling creeping up my spine told me I was being watched. I faced the occupants at the table; each of them was looking at me. Mace was frowning, Potato was laughing, and Master's mouth hung limply open and a clump of chicken salad fell back into the bowl. I grinned back at all of them. They were good guys, if you can look past their annoying self's.
Another fork full of pasta came to my mouth. I swallowed it hastily. I would tell you what it tastes like, but I forgot. It was good enough for me to eat the whole plate in under ten minuets.
Bubbles of force bounced over the table and drifted along lazily. I smiled as one landed on the top of Master's head. And reached up to pop it. It darted beyond my grasp and hid behind Potato. "Come back here," I called after it, "you can't hide from me, bubble thing." I leapt upon it, and the bubble split in two. I laughed, overcome by happiness and triumph.
"The boy's gone mad." Mace mumbled to Obi Wan, who was still having trouble keeping his lunch inside his mouth.
I smiled at Mace. "I'm not mad; I've never felt better in my life." I broke off in laughter. "See that bubble on Mace's head, Master? It makes him look like he still has hair." I broke down, unable to control myself, and not wanting to.
Bad move, Mace is very sensitive about his non-existent hair. Rumor has it that before his trail, Mace developed an awful case of head lice. To keep it from spreading the Jedi Council had it shaved off. That's the real reason why he's bald.
Now Mace was angry, but I didn't care. "That's funny, hu Master?"
"I don't see anything funny about it…" Obi Wan began.
"Boy," I said talking to Mace, "You should have heard the things Obi Wan said about you yesterday… He said-"
Master cut me off. "I think you need to calm down, Anakin. You're acting your shoe size again."
"Well let me tell you something," I called, hunkering down until I was at his level. "I know a secret about you that no body else knows." It began a chant, the same words were repeated over and over. Master paled.
By now there was no eating going on in the training field. All the Jedi and Padawan were gathered around our table. I had an audience. I smiled dumbly at all of them. The Jedi all frowned sternly, and most of the padawans were laughing.
"What's the secret?" Someone from the crowd asked.
Before I could tell them about Master having a crush on Shish Kabob, a voice silenced all noise in the field.
"Um, talking bad about your master, are you young Anakin?" Yoda pushed his way to the front of the herd.
My smile deepened. "I know a secret."
Seeing that I was incompetent, Yoda turned to Master. "Lost his mind, has he?"
"I really don't know, Master Yoda. He just started acting half crazed."
Yoda nodded understandingly, and moved over to me. He poked me with his cane, sniffed of me, and looked at my face. "Drunk is he." Mummers spread through the temple, Master winced as if he'd been struck. Oh yeah, and just so you should all know, a Jedi is forbidden to get drunk because like almost everything else, it leads to the dark side.
"Give him coffee, Obi Wan. Make him sober; re-teach him the laws of our ancestors regarding dirking." Yoda ordered.
Master nodded. Yoda turned to the crowd, "leave here all of us must, time to resume lessons it is." All the others began to slip away, until it was just me and master.
"I never understand you Anakin," Master muttered as he moved over to the coffee maker. "Sometimes I think you break the Jedi code purposefully."
"Oh lighten up, Master." I was happy, and I saw no reason why the rest of the universe shouldn't be.
As usual, Obi Wan ignored me. "Not only did you just disgrace me, and yourself in front of the whole temple, but you also disgraced Qui Gon. He believed in you to be a good Jedi, and you have provided him wrong." A chugging sounded as the coffee brewed.
"If you ask me, Master; you're the one who disgraced Qui Gon, you're not the best Master you know." The pasta was losing its effect.
Obi Wan poured some coffee into a mug. "A teacher should not be judged through his student's eyes." More fortune cookie ranting as usual. "Here drink this, and for force's sake get sober!"
"I hate coffee."
"There's a lot of things you hate, Anakin. Drink it."
I drank it, and felt the sense of anger and disappointment wash over me again. It was D-caf coffee.
Once I had finished three cups, Master deemed me 'sober', and we moved on to lessons. These weren't normal lessons, Yoda wanted me to re-learn the laws of drinking. Master brought down the big book of Jedi laws. There are to many laws if you ask me.
Obi Wan flipped through numerous pages of the giant book. "Here it is," He announced, "law 435644.6655. The Jedi Law regarding excessive drinking."
"This is stupid, Master." I called angrily, "I didn't drink anything."
Master frowned. "Being in denial will not help you, Anakin. It's best just to move on. Now you need to-"
"I didn't drink anything, and I'm not in denial. You were there the whole time Master. Don't you think you would have noticed if I drank anything?!"
"I was not there the whole time, I had to go get some lunch if you remember. And when I got back, that's when you started acting mad."
I sighed, as I have stated before, Master is very dense. "But it wasn't right after you came back, Master." I didn't want anyone thinking I was an alcoholic, I'd rather be known as a spaghetti eater than a drunkard.
"Yes it was, we switched lunches and that's when it started…You ate a bite of that pasta and… Good force! What's the council putting in their lunches nowadays?"
Another sigh, "Master, it's not what the council is putting in it. It's just Pasta."
"The council's pasta is off?"
"NO!" My overly dense Master, "Pasta is bad for me."
Something way far back in his brain clicked. A look of understanding came over his face, it was about time. "Noodles make you act like a loon!"
Well, I wouldn't go into all that was said then. It took me about two hours to get the message through to him. When he did finally understand training was over. My secret was out… I blame the pasta to this day, I was still under its influence when I told Obi Wan. Each day I curse myself for making that horrible mistake. But as usual, the worst was yet to come.
