I didn't realize it had been so long since I published a chapter… sorry about that! Anyway, here's the next installment. Is that how you spell installment? I thought it was spelt "instalment", but my computer said that was wrong. Oh well, I'm probably wrong.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
After Anakin had bought something from Watto that he steadfastly refused to show Padmé, they traveled on foot to the address printed on the durasheet. The journey to Shmi Skywalker's new address took half an hour. During this time, Anakin cheerfully smoked some of the contents of the bag he had acquired from Watto. Grinning widely, he then completely ignored Padmé's lengthy anti-drug rant. He was still grinning when they reached an isolated property on the outskirts of Mos Eisley; there was a small dwelling, and a few generators which provided the home with water and power. Beyond these, there was only a vast expanse of sand.
The house was unfamiliar to Anakin; whoever his mother's new employers were, he had never met them.
As they approached the house, a man in a hoverchair emerged from the entrance. One of his legs was completely missing, the other swaddled in bandages. Padmé gasped, and Anakin struggled to arrange his face into a more sympathetic expression.
'Hello,' the man said politely, ignoring the way Anakin and Padmé were staring at his missing limbs. 'I'm Cliegg Lars.'
Cliegg held out a hand for Anakin to shake. Regaining his manic grin, Anakin bounded forwards and vigorously shook the old man's hand. Much to everyone's shock, when Anakin took his hand away, Cliegg's arm came away with it. Unfazed, Anakin returned the artificial arm to its owner, who did not appear pleased. There was an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Anakin decided to make a little small talk.
'So, did you see the footy scores last night?'
Cliegg and Padmé both gave him bewildered looks. Anakin shrugged. 'The Jedi never taught us how to talk to everyday people. They were mostly concerned with teaching us how to levitate and fight stuff. Or, at least,' he said, frowning thoughtfully, 'I think so. I wasn't really listening a lot of the time.'
No-one was particularly surprised by this announcement.
'Hey, I'm sorry I pulled your leg off,' Anakin added, completely failing to look apologetic.
'It was his arm, Anakin,' Padmé sighed. 'And anyway, you're supposed to be looking for your mother.'
'Oh, yeah. I'm here to see Shmi Skywalker.'
Cliegg's face crumpled with sorrow, and he drooped in his chair. 'Shmi is my wife.'
Anakin started. The idea of his mother marrying someone was very odd, especially since Shmi had always warned him not to trust men. That was why Anakin had decided against being gay, after all. Or had that been after he accidentally kissed Obi-Wan when he was blind drunk one night?
While Anakin tried to remember his motivations in becoming straight, Cliegg began to recount a sad tale. 'Several weeks ago, a band of hippies came through the area. They lured her away with their talk of a better future.' The old farmer shook his head, tears glittering in his eyes. 'Stupid tree-huggers!'
All homosexuality-related thoughts were driven from Anakin's mind by his deep-seated hatred of hippies. This dated back to his childhood, when a small group of hippies had cornered him in the marketplace, demanding he sign a petition to save the Great Red Tatooine Pine. Young Anakin had run screaming through the streets until his mother chased the hippies away with a rolling pin.
'I'll go after her,' Anakin resolved, already unearthing the hippie-slaughtering plans he had been hatching since childhood. Ignoring Padmé's half-hearted protests, he ran into Cliegg's house, almost bowling over a young girl who was working in the kitchen.
Padmé shook her head, exasperated. This time, she was going to have to stop the foolish Jedi, or someone was going to get hurt. Sure enough, Anakin soon ran out of the house carrying two machine guns, a grenade and pesticide.
'For God's sake, they're hippies, not terrorists!' Cliegg snapped.
'You can never be too prepared,' Anakin said wisely. 'Now, for the getaway vehicle.'
Anakin conducted a quick search of the house and yard, but found nothing he could use for this purpose. Discouraged, he walked back to Cliegg and Padmé, and his eyes fell on the farmer's hoverchair.
'Can I borrow your chair?' Anakin asked. However, Cliegg was swiftly removed from the seat before he could protest.
'Anakin!' Padmé scolded. 'You can't steal a sick man's chair!'
The young Jedi apprentice laughed scornfully. 'Oh, Padmé, how naïve you are! He's obviously faking!'
'I don't have any legs!' Cliegg yelled, from where he was sprawled on the ground. 'What's 'faking' about that?'
Ignoring him completely, Anakin pulled the lever of the chair and began to hover away. Padmé watched him float away from the farm, shaking her head. The chair was moving so slowly that she could quite easily have caught up with Anakin; but, she reasoned, it would be far more fun just to let him go and see what happened.
Before long, the twin suns of Tatooine had set, and the moon had appeared in the sky as Anakin hovered across the sand dunes. For hours, he found nothing, but around midnight a makeshift campsite appeared on the horizon. There were several dirty, patched tents set up in a circle, and a Kombi van painted with a rainbow pattern was parked nearby. Thick clouds of herbal smoke were rising from the centre of the site. Anakin followed the smoke, remembering the old Jedi saying: where there is herbal smoke, there are hippies. Or was that where there's smoke, there's a fire? As he had already revealed, Anakin had not really paid attention to his lessons.
It wasn't difficult for the Jedi to sneak into the campsite, as any noise he made was masked by the voices of the hippies, who were singing songs about love and peace. Anakin could sense the familiar presence of his mother emanating from the largest tent. He cut a hole in the fabric with his lightsaber and slipped inside.
Immediately, his nose was assaulted by the disgusting odor of an acrid smoke which filled the tent. When Anakin's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he gasped in shock. Shmi Skywalker was lying on a low camp bed, smoking a long pipe.
'Mum! What are you doing?'
Shmi looked up, struggling to focus her eyes on Anakin. 'My son! How lovely to see you, after all these years!'
She started to wail an ancient song of welcome, but Anakin quickly interrupted her. He had already been subjected to far too much of his mother's terrible singing when he was a child.
'What are you smoking?' he spluttered, coughing.
'It's weed, babe,' Shmi told him, holding out her pipe. 'Here, try some. It's, like, so calming, man.'
Anakin snatched the pipe from her hands. How dare those hippies besmirch my mother's innocence? he thought furiously, conveniently forgetting his own penchant for smoking illegal substances.
'We're leaving now,' he snapped, dragging his mother to her feet.
'I can't leave!' Shmi argued. 'Me and the other dudes are on our way to a folk music festival.'
Folk music? Anakin thought with dread. This just keeps getting worse and worse.
'What have these bastards done to my mum?' he snarled. 'I'll kill them!'
Forgetting that Obi-Wan had once warned him not to mess with hippies, Anakin tore out of the tent and leaped towards them, igniting his lightsaber. The hippies shrieked and scattered, dropping their bongs in their haste.
'Dude! That's, like, totally harsh, man!' yelled one, as Anakin chased him around the fire.
'Please put on my gravestone that I died with a bong in my hand and a Bob Dylan song in my heart,' requested another before she was finally silenced.
Leaving all the slaughtered hippies in a heap around the smoking fire, Anakin returned to the tent and dragged his mother outside. There he encountered an unforeseen problem; since Shmi refused to leave her guitar behind, they couldn't travel back to the farm on the hoverchair. Eventually, Anakin was forced to shove Shmi and her guitar into the back of the Kombi van. In the early hours of the morning, they finally skidded away from the campsite, Anakin swearing angrily in the driver's seat.
It is a little-known fact that the events of this night led to the prohibition of hippies years later, during the reign of Darth Vader. Most of Vader's inferiors simply assumed that this prohibition must have been due to his distaste for drugs such as marijuana. They were, of course, completely mistaken.
:D I can totally imagine Vader sitting in that meditation chamber thing he has, smoking some weed. Although he wouldn't want to ruin his lungs anymore I guess. Anywayyy, next chapter will be up soon!
