***
CHAPTER SEVEN: IT'S NOT MY FAULT!
***
Author's Note: I just had another bout of brainfreeze when I wrote the author/ Yoda thing in the last chapter so hold on a sec while I get some more Slurpee from 7-11. I figured another genius idea might come to mind. Or brain. BTW, if you have any suggestions for a reward/ immunity challenge, I'd gladly accept all. Don't forget to review!
***
At the Norub camp, it was a more calm setting when Jaina and Gavin started to ignore each other.
Well, that's exciting news.
Yeah right.
At the waterhole, the only one of two waterholes that gave off clean water, and the only waterhole Norub could drink from, Leia, Han and Chewbacca were trying to convince Bob (or Boba Fett, if you don't remember) to join them.
"Look, I'm sorry about all the scene-stealing thing, okay? But it's really not my fault George Lucas made you the bad guy!" Han said innocently.
"If you join us, you will be can be sure your are not going to be voted out like those who are against us," Leia remarked, like a true politician.
Chewbacca just stood there for support, waiting for Jaina to arrive.
"So what's in it for me?" Fett grilled them thoroughly. "Will it just delay my being voted off? What if Jabba and Darklighter are off and you must vote off someone else? Will that be me?"
Jaina arrived, but was unusually silent as she watched her parents attempting to convince a stubborn bounty hunter.
"Bob," Leia replied, accepting the floor from her husband. "It might be you, it might not be you. It all depends on what fate decides. One of us," she motioned toward her three companions, "might turn against another. We never know. For now, it will give you a guarantee that you will not be voted off as quickly as Jabba and Gavin might be."
Bob considered this for a moment. "How am I to know if I can trust you?"
"That's your call."
"It is?"
She nodded. "It's your decision, and we need your decision right now. What we're looking at is that you, Chewie, Han, Jaina and I will be in the Final Five. Only then can we wonder who would win immunity, and who would win this game."
"Why must I make my decision now?"
A long fart was heard nearby, then a stench so strong was released Han almost fainted were it not from his hand covering his nose. It was like REEEAAALLLLYYY long. If you don't believe me, I'll write down right here how long it was. It was like a "fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrttttttttttttttttttttttttt tttttttttttttttttt"!
It lasted four point seven standard minutes, according to the annoying C-3PO droid by my side who won't leave me alone.
"Oh dear! I am so elated that I was not equipped with scent-sensitive receptors!" he wailed.
"Shut up, Threepio." I flicked off his switch.
It must've been the longest fart in history.
The smelliest too. I am SO happy that I am the author and I do not need to suffer the stench. Apparently THEY weren't so lucky.
The cameraman wasn't either. He fainted, and the camera dropped to the ground and now you can only see feet, but with my superior author powers, I can manipulate anything in this story. MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I love saying that.
"WHO WAS THAT?" Bob shouted, directing the question to the air in front of him.
"I'll take care of it, okay?" I replied.
"Oh, it's the author."
"Yes it's the author, now shut up while I get Joe to the medics."
"You mean YOU farted?"
"NO! NOW SHUT UP, OKAY?"
"But who farted?"
"It wasn't me," I said. 'Now if you don't mind, Joe fainted and I have to get him to the CBS guys. Hold on."
With my awesomely superior author mind powers, which are even more powerful than Luke's, I lifted Joe off the ground, sent him to the CBS people, got another cameraman, and now you can see everyone clearly.
"All better?" I asked.
They all groaned in unison.
Bob spoke up. "I still want to know who farted!"
"I'll leave this argument to your folks."
So Bob started to grill everyone. "OKAY! Who farted! I did not suffer for five minutes—"
For some odd reason SOMEBODY turned Threepio on and put him in my fic, and interrupted my good argument that was just starting to boil.
"Master Fett," he said annoyingly, "It is not five minutes, but four- point-oh-seven-twenty-two standard minutes."
"Oh, shut up," Han complained loudly.
"But Master Han, I cannot 'shut up' because I am a droid. I may be 'shut down,' but I may not shut down myself."
And Threepio accidentally stepped on a very gross, disgusting, bug.
He wailed so loudly that I went to my start bar and put the mute on.
*author humming*
*Sound On* Han, Chewbacca, Leia, Jaina and Bob were covering their ears. Poor contestants.
Like I care.
"SHUT HIM UP! SOMEONE!" Leia shouted.
Jaina was nearest, so she immediately jumped on him and flicked his switch.
"Thank you," her father said, relaxing.
"I still want to know who farted." Bob complained again.
"Sorry," Chewbacca growled, just low enough for everyone to hear.
"Chewie!" Han scolded. "Don't you EVER do that again, particularly when I'm less than ten feet away from you!"
"They could sue us, you know." Leia said quietly.
"Who would?" Jaina questioned.
Now, with five people to control, it would be much easier if I did it like this, so here it is.
Leia: CBS.
Bob: Why?
Han: Yeah? Who would sue someone who farted?
Jaina: CBS.
Chewbacca: Why?
Leia: For making one of their camerapeople faint.
Han: They'd better not sue ME!
Bob: I wasn't the one who farted either!
Chewbacca: Wasn't MY fault I ate my rotten tortilla!
Jaina: Eew.
Leia: When did you start saying that?
Jaina: Just now.
Han: Where'd you get it?
Jaina: How would I know?
Bob: Maybe the author did it.
Author: Or the butler.
Han: When did YOU get in the conversation?
Author: Hey, I'M the author here! I can do ANYTHING I want.
Han: Fine.
Leia: That's not the issue here. We're talking about why CBS would sure Chewie.
Chewbacca: Me? Why me?
Bob: We just told you, Wookiee. YOUR FART made a cameraperson faint.
Han: Yeah. Bad move.
Chewbacca: But…
Jaina: And just think. What if Gavin and Jabba hear about this? They'd taunt you at every Tribal Council there is.
Leia: Unless THEY get voted out first.
Jaina: *sarcastically* Yeah, great idea Mom, vote them off first. Like that's the first time I've heard that.
Leia: Well, is it?
Jaina: Mom! We were already planning it in the first place!
Bob: That's why you got me here.
Leia: Oh, yeah.
Han: So, Bob, you gonna take the offer?
Bob: Well, I've got to, if I want to save my skin in this little game.
Jaina: I sure do.
Bob: Save my skin?
Jaina: No, MY skin! As in, I want to win this!
Bob: Well, how would I know?
Jaina: I don't know, maybe if you used you BRAIN!
Bob: I…
Leia: Enough!
Bob: Fine. I'll take your offer.
Jaina: Then you've got to trust us.
Bob: I'll try to.
Han: You've got to make the decision now.
Bob: I just did.
Han: To trust us, I mean. *in undertone* Idiot.
Bob: I heard that!
Leia: I SAID ENOUGH!
Han: He started it.
Bob: Did not!
Han: Did too!
Leia: Someone shut them up.
Bob: Did not!
***
At the Samburrow camp, it was slightly different.
I said slightly, folks.
Jacen and Anakin were at their arguments again.
"Look, Anakin, you said you wouldn't care if I said yes or no…"
"Jace—"
"Don't interrupt me! You voted for me at the first Council. Give me ONE good reason why I don't have the right to vote YOU off, huh? It's because of you and your gang that I now have six votes against me!"
"Hey! Don't blame me! I got my own problems. You're one of them!"
"Me?" Jacen scoffed. "Me! Right! You know what, if we weren't in this stupid game and if the stupid author hadn't…"
"I heard that!" I yelled.
"Sorry." Jacen continued. "Anyway, if we weren't playing this game, you'd be dead, remember?"
"Well, it isn't my fault Troy Denning killed me!"
"Right, and it's mine?"
"I wish I could say yes."
"Fine. Then let's call it even."
"Deal."
The shook hands just as Vader came out. "Hi, kids," he said.
"Hi, Mr. Skywalker," they both said in unison.
"Have I killed THAT many Jedi that my own grandkids won't even call me their grandfather?"
"Yes," Jacen grumbled.
"Oh."
Out of NOWHERE, C-3PO appeared again. OKAY, WHO IS TAMPERING WITH MY FIC HERE, HUH?
"Actually, Master Vader," Threepio started, "the approximate number of Jedi you have killed is two-thousand-eighty-one-point-oh-six."
"Thank you, Threepio," Anakin said.
"And the odds that your grandchildren would not call you 'grandfather' is twenty-eight-point-forty-nine in seven-thousand-six- hundred-twenty-eight-point-two."
"THANK YOU THREEPIO!" Anakin said loudly.
"Why, you're quite weelllcumm…" Mara shut him off.
"Thanks, Aunt Mara." Jacen said softly.
"You see that?" Vader threw his arms in the air. "All I want to be called his granddad, or grandpa, or grandfather, or Pappy, and all you call me is Darth Vader, Mr. Skywalker, and you can call the woman who tried to kill my son 'aunt!'"
"But she IS our aunt," Jacen clarified.
"I KNOW THAT!" Obviously a lot of people know a lot of things in this fic. "Can't you just call me granddad? Or grandpa Vader?"
"Because you're a bad guy."
"Yeah, but I turned to the Light Side."
"Then you died."
"Are you trying to say that I'm a dead guy?"
"I couldn't have said it better myself."
"Why you…"
Jacen stepped back and smiled. "Sorry, I'm your grandson, remember? And you can't hurt me."
"There's no rule saying I can't."
"So?"
"That means I can hurt you."
"No you can't. I'm your grandson."
"I know that! That's the entire reason why I asked you to call me Grandfather, at least!"
"All right, GRANDFATHER." (That was supposed to be in italic, but this stupid computer… AAAARRRRGGGGHHH!)
"There. That wasn't so bad, was it, Jacen?"
"No."
"That's all there is to it!"
"So?"
"I mean, there's no problem in calling me grandfather."
"No. Who said that?"
"No one! I just—"
"Then why'd you imply that there was a problem at all?"
"Because—"
"Because what?"
"STOP INTERRUPTING MY WHEN I'M TALKING!"
"It's not my fault, it's the author's. She's writing this fic."
"This is very pointless."
"Well, maybe she WANTS it to be pointless."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning this is a pointless fan fic."
"And we are all pointless characters here?"
"Probably." Jacen shrugged.
Anakin joined the conversation. "Why's grandpa asking all the questions?"
"You just asked one right there," Vader answered.
"Yeah," Jacen continued, "is that counted?"
"You asked a question there." Anakin pointed out.
"So? What's the problem with asking a question?"
"There's another one."
"I know that. Answer my question."
"Shouldn't you state that as a question?"
"You just asked another question."
"I wanted you to answer it."
"Why must I?"
"This is the answer to your question. There."
"That wasn't an answer."
"What was it, then?"
"It was a declarative sentence."
"Ask an interrogative one."
"How would I know these people's English?" Jacen asked again.
"You just said it."
"Said what?"
"There's another question."
"Just answer the stupid question!"
"Why do you say 'stupid' a lot?" Anakin responded.
"I dunno. How do we tell the difference between an interrogative and declarative sentence anyway?"
"Why are you so interested in English all of a sudden?"
"That was an interrogative sentence, wasn't it?"
"That one was."
"And that was a declarative."
"How'd you know?"
"It's just in my head right now."
"You're too much of an intellectual." Anakin remarked.
"Did you know I just added some more lint to my belly button lint collection?"
"My brain hurts."
"Wasn't my fault!" Jacen responded.
***
Jeft was watching this on his trailer TV—imagine, his OWN trailer! And the guy isn't satisfied!—with amusement.
A big fart, a small deal, a pointless conversation about belly button lint. This was even more fun than he had expected.
Then George Lucas walked in. (HOW DID LUCAS GET IN HERE?)
'Hi, Jeft," George greeted him.
"Hi, Mr. Lucas."
"Oh, please, call me George." He took a seat.
"Okay."
"Have you seen Yoda?"
"Nope."
"He wasn't a contestant?"
"Naw. Who do ya think'll win?"
"I don't know. I mean, who knows these people?"
"You're supposed to."
"Oh."
"Well, do you?"
"Not exactly, no."
"BUT YOU CREATED THEM!"
"Jeez, you have a short temper."
"We're talking about you here, not me."
"Who said we were talking about me?"
"No one. It just came up."
"Things like this don't come up, out of the blue."
"Well, I guess they do in a fan fic."
"Seems to me it's pretty pointless."
"What is?"
"This fic," George answered. 'Don't you want a new job?"
"Yeah, I do. Desperately."
'Great! I'll cast you as… Anakin Skywalker!"
"Jeff Probst look-alike as a young Darth Vader? Won't work."
"Good point."
C-3PO appeared. AGAIN! WHO'S BEEN PLAYING AROUND WITH THIS FIC WHILE I'M NOT LOOKING?! "Master Jeft," he started, "You could have a plastic surgeon enhance your face to look like Hayden Christensen, instead of Jeff Probst, sir."
"I don't want it."
"Threepio?" George questioned.
"Yes… Oh! Master George! I have been waiting over a century to meet you! Allow me to introduce myself. I am C-3PO, human cybor—"
"I know, Threepio. I created you."
"Yes, sir! I—" Jeft shut him off.
"Sorry for the interruption, George.
"Hey," I said, making Jeft jump. "Why don't we let George pick who's gonna be voted out next!"
"I dunno," Jeft replied, "it's your fic."
"Okay! Mr. Lucas, who you want voted out?"
"I always didn't like Jabba the Hutt," George Lucas replied.
"Okay, Jeft! It's your job to tell them."
"Who? Me?"
"YES, YOU! WHAT'RE YOU THINKING?"
"Nothing. Jeez, I'm going. I'm going."
Can you believe this? I just had a conversation with George Lucas. Well, most of it was with Jeft, but who cares? I got to talk to George Lucas!
Yeah right."
***
Okay, so that's the end of this chapter. Hope you liked it! I was pretty bored so I made everyone have pointless conversations. What do yea think? Chapter Eight is not long behind. REVIEW THIS, PLEASE!
***
CHAPTER SEVEN: IT'S NOT MY FAULT!
***
Author's Note: I just had another bout of brainfreeze when I wrote the author/ Yoda thing in the last chapter so hold on a sec while I get some more Slurpee from 7-11. I figured another genius idea might come to mind. Or brain. BTW, if you have any suggestions for a reward/ immunity challenge, I'd gladly accept all. Don't forget to review!
***
At the Norub camp, it was a more calm setting when Jaina and Gavin started to ignore each other.
Well, that's exciting news.
Yeah right.
At the waterhole, the only one of two waterholes that gave off clean water, and the only waterhole Norub could drink from, Leia, Han and Chewbacca were trying to convince Bob (or Boba Fett, if you don't remember) to join them.
"Look, I'm sorry about all the scene-stealing thing, okay? But it's really not my fault George Lucas made you the bad guy!" Han said innocently.
"If you join us, you will be can be sure your are not going to be voted out like those who are against us," Leia remarked, like a true politician.
Chewbacca just stood there for support, waiting for Jaina to arrive.
"So what's in it for me?" Fett grilled them thoroughly. "Will it just delay my being voted off? What if Jabba and Darklighter are off and you must vote off someone else? Will that be me?"
Jaina arrived, but was unusually silent as she watched her parents attempting to convince a stubborn bounty hunter.
"Bob," Leia replied, accepting the floor from her husband. "It might be you, it might not be you. It all depends on what fate decides. One of us," she motioned toward her three companions, "might turn against another. We never know. For now, it will give you a guarantee that you will not be voted off as quickly as Jabba and Gavin might be."
Bob considered this for a moment. "How am I to know if I can trust you?"
"That's your call."
"It is?"
She nodded. "It's your decision, and we need your decision right now. What we're looking at is that you, Chewie, Han, Jaina and I will be in the Final Five. Only then can we wonder who would win immunity, and who would win this game."
"Why must I make my decision now?"
A long fart was heard nearby, then a stench so strong was released Han almost fainted were it not from his hand covering his nose. It was like REEEAAALLLLYYY long. If you don't believe me, I'll write down right here how long it was. It was like a "fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrttttttttttttttttttttttttt tttttttttttttttttt"!
It lasted four point seven standard minutes, according to the annoying C-3PO droid by my side who won't leave me alone.
"Oh dear! I am so elated that I was not equipped with scent-sensitive receptors!" he wailed.
"Shut up, Threepio." I flicked off his switch.
It must've been the longest fart in history.
The smelliest too. I am SO happy that I am the author and I do not need to suffer the stench. Apparently THEY weren't so lucky.
The cameraman wasn't either. He fainted, and the camera dropped to the ground and now you can only see feet, but with my superior author powers, I can manipulate anything in this story. MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I love saying that.
"WHO WAS THAT?" Bob shouted, directing the question to the air in front of him.
"I'll take care of it, okay?" I replied.
"Oh, it's the author."
"Yes it's the author, now shut up while I get Joe to the medics."
"You mean YOU farted?"
"NO! NOW SHUT UP, OKAY?"
"But who farted?"
"It wasn't me," I said. 'Now if you don't mind, Joe fainted and I have to get him to the CBS guys. Hold on."
With my awesomely superior author mind powers, which are even more powerful than Luke's, I lifted Joe off the ground, sent him to the CBS people, got another cameraman, and now you can see everyone clearly.
"All better?" I asked.
They all groaned in unison.
Bob spoke up. "I still want to know who farted!"
"I'll leave this argument to your folks."
So Bob started to grill everyone. "OKAY! Who farted! I did not suffer for five minutes—"
For some odd reason SOMEBODY turned Threepio on and put him in my fic, and interrupted my good argument that was just starting to boil.
"Master Fett," he said annoyingly, "It is not five minutes, but four- point-oh-seven-twenty-two standard minutes."
"Oh, shut up," Han complained loudly.
"But Master Han, I cannot 'shut up' because I am a droid. I may be 'shut down,' but I may not shut down myself."
And Threepio accidentally stepped on a very gross, disgusting, bug.
He wailed so loudly that I went to my start bar and put the mute on.
*author humming*
*Sound On* Han, Chewbacca, Leia, Jaina and Bob were covering their ears. Poor contestants.
Like I care.
"SHUT HIM UP! SOMEONE!" Leia shouted.
Jaina was nearest, so she immediately jumped on him and flicked his switch.
"Thank you," her father said, relaxing.
"I still want to know who farted." Bob complained again.
"Sorry," Chewbacca growled, just low enough for everyone to hear.
"Chewie!" Han scolded. "Don't you EVER do that again, particularly when I'm less than ten feet away from you!"
"They could sue us, you know." Leia said quietly.
"Who would?" Jaina questioned.
Now, with five people to control, it would be much easier if I did it like this, so here it is.
Leia: CBS.
Bob: Why?
Han: Yeah? Who would sue someone who farted?
Jaina: CBS.
Chewbacca: Why?
Leia: For making one of their camerapeople faint.
Han: They'd better not sue ME!
Bob: I wasn't the one who farted either!
Chewbacca: Wasn't MY fault I ate my rotten tortilla!
Jaina: Eew.
Leia: When did you start saying that?
Jaina: Just now.
Han: Where'd you get it?
Jaina: How would I know?
Bob: Maybe the author did it.
Author: Or the butler.
Han: When did YOU get in the conversation?
Author: Hey, I'M the author here! I can do ANYTHING I want.
Han: Fine.
Leia: That's not the issue here. We're talking about why CBS would sure Chewie.
Chewbacca: Me? Why me?
Bob: We just told you, Wookiee. YOUR FART made a cameraperson faint.
Han: Yeah. Bad move.
Chewbacca: But…
Jaina: And just think. What if Gavin and Jabba hear about this? They'd taunt you at every Tribal Council there is.
Leia: Unless THEY get voted out first.
Jaina: *sarcastically* Yeah, great idea Mom, vote them off first. Like that's the first time I've heard that.
Leia: Well, is it?
Jaina: Mom! We were already planning it in the first place!
Bob: That's why you got me here.
Leia: Oh, yeah.
Han: So, Bob, you gonna take the offer?
Bob: Well, I've got to, if I want to save my skin in this little game.
Jaina: I sure do.
Bob: Save my skin?
Jaina: No, MY skin! As in, I want to win this!
Bob: Well, how would I know?
Jaina: I don't know, maybe if you used you BRAIN!
Bob: I…
Leia: Enough!
Bob: Fine. I'll take your offer.
Jaina: Then you've got to trust us.
Bob: I'll try to.
Han: You've got to make the decision now.
Bob: I just did.
Han: To trust us, I mean. *in undertone* Idiot.
Bob: I heard that!
Leia: I SAID ENOUGH!
Han: He started it.
Bob: Did not!
Han: Did too!
Leia: Someone shut them up.
Bob: Did not!
***
At the Samburrow camp, it was slightly different.
I said slightly, folks.
Jacen and Anakin were at their arguments again.
"Look, Anakin, you said you wouldn't care if I said yes or no…"
"Jace—"
"Don't interrupt me! You voted for me at the first Council. Give me ONE good reason why I don't have the right to vote YOU off, huh? It's because of you and your gang that I now have six votes against me!"
"Hey! Don't blame me! I got my own problems. You're one of them!"
"Me?" Jacen scoffed. "Me! Right! You know what, if we weren't in this stupid game and if the stupid author hadn't…"
"I heard that!" I yelled.
"Sorry." Jacen continued. "Anyway, if we weren't playing this game, you'd be dead, remember?"
"Well, it isn't my fault Troy Denning killed me!"
"Right, and it's mine?"
"I wish I could say yes."
"Fine. Then let's call it even."
"Deal."
The shook hands just as Vader came out. "Hi, kids," he said.
"Hi, Mr. Skywalker," they both said in unison.
"Have I killed THAT many Jedi that my own grandkids won't even call me their grandfather?"
"Yes," Jacen grumbled.
"Oh."
Out of NOWHERE, C-3PO appeared again. OKAY, WHO IS TAMPERING WITH MY FIC HERE, HUH?
"Actually, Master Vader," Threepio started, "the approximate number of Jedi you have killed is two-thousand-eighty-one-point-oh-six."
"Thank you, Threepio," Anakin said.
"And the odds that your grandchildren would not call you 'grandfather' is twenty-eight-point-forty-nine in seven-thousand-six- hundred-twenty-eight-point-two."
"THANK YOU THREEPIO!" Anakin said loudly.
"Why, you're quite weelllcumm…" Mara shut him off.
"Thanks, Aunt Mara." Jacen said softly.
"You see that?" Vader threw his arms in the air. "All I want to be called his granddad, or grandpa, or grandfather, or Pappy, and all you call me is Darth Vader, Mr. Skywalker, and you can call the woman who tried to kill my son 'aunt!'"
"But she IS our aunt," Jacen clarified.
"I KNOW THAT!" Obviously a lot of people know a lot of things in this fic. "Can't you just call me granddad? Or grandpa Vader?"
"Because you're a bad guy."
"Yeah, but I turned to the Light Side."
"Then you died."
"Are you trying to say that I'm a dead guy?"
"I couldn't have said it better myself."
"Why you…"
Jacen stepped back and smiled. "Sorry, I'm your grandson, remember? And you can't hurt me."
"There's no rule saying I can't."
"So?"
"That means I can hurt you."
"No you can't. I'm your grandson."
"I know that! That's the entire reason why I asked you to call me Grandfather, at least!"
"All right, GRANDFATHER." (That was supposed to be in italic, but this stupid computer… AAAARRRRGGGGHHH!)
"There. That wasn't so bad, was it, Jacen?"
"No."
"That's all there is to it!"
"So?"
"I mean, there's no problem in calling me grandfather."
"No. Who said that?"
"No one! I just—"
"Then why'd you imply that there was a problem at all?"
"Because—"
"Because what?"
"STOP INTERRUPTING MY WHEN I'M TALKING!"
"It's not my fault, it's the author's. She's writing this fic."
"This is very pointless."
"Well, maybe she WANTS it to be pointless."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning this is a pointless fan fic."
"And we are all pointless characters here?"
"Probably." Jacen shrugged.
Anakin joined the conversation. "Why's grandpa asking all the questions?"
"You just asked one right there," Vader answered.
"Yeah," Jacen continued, "is that counted?"
"You asked a question there." Anakin pointed out.
"So? What's the problem with asking a question?"
"There's another one."
"I know that. Answer my question."
"Shouldn't you state that as a question?"
"You just asked another question."
"I wanted you to answer it."
"Why must I?"
"This is the answer to your question. There."
"That wasn't an answer."
"What was it, then?"
"It was a declarative sentence."
"Ask an interrogative one."
"How would I know these people's English?" Jacen asked again.
"You just said it."
"Said what?"
"There's another question."
"Just answer the stupid question!"
"Why do you say 'stupid' a lot?" Anakin responded.
"I dunno. How do we tell the difference between an interrogative and declarative sentence anyway?"
"Why are you so interested in English all of a sudden?"
"That was an interrogative sentence, wasn't it?"
"That one was."
"And that was a declarative."
"How'd you know?"
"It's just in my head right now."
"You're too much of an intellectual." Anakin remarked.
"Did you know I just added some more lint to my belly button lint collection?"
"My brain hurts."
"Wasn't my fault!" Jacen responded.
***
Jeft was watching this on his trailer TV—imagine, his OWN trailer! And the guy isn't satisfied!—with amusement.
A big fart, a small deal, a pointless conversation about belly button lint. This was even more fun than he had expected.
Then George Lucas walked in. (HOW DID LUCAS GET IN HERE?)
'Hi, Jeft," George greeted him.
"Hi, Mr. Lucas."
"Oh, please, call me George." He took a seat.
"Okay."
"Have you seen Yoda?"
"Nope."
"He wasn't a contestant?"
"Naw. Who do ya think'll win?"
"I don't know. I mean, who knows these people?"
"You're supposed to."
"Oh."
"Well, do you?"
"Not exactly, no."
"BUT YOU CREATED THEM!"
"Jeez, you have a short temper."
"We're talking about you here, not me."
"Who said we were talking about me?"
"No one. It just came up."
"Things like this don't come up, out of the blue."
"Well, I guess they do in a fan fic."
"Seems to me it's pretty pointless."
"What is?"
"This fic," George answered. 'Don't you want a new job?"
"Yeah, I do. Desperately."
'Great! I'll cast you as… Anakin Skywalker!"
"Jeff Probst look-alike as a young Darth Vader? Won't work."
"Good point."
C-3PO appeared. AGAIN! WHO'S BEEN PLAYING AROUND WITH THIS FIC WHILE I'M NOT LOOKING?! "Master Jeft," he started, "You could have a plastic surgeon enhance your face to look like Hayden Christensen, instead of Jeff Probst, sir."
"I don't want it."
"Threepio?" George questioned.
"Yes… Oh! Master George! I have been waiting over a century to meet you! Allow me to introduce myself. I am C-3PO, human cybor—"
"I know, Threepio. I created you."
"Yes, sir! I—" Jeft shut him off.
"Sorry for the interruption, George.
"Hey," I said, making Jeft jump. "Why don't we let George pick who's gonna be voted out next!"
"I dunno," Jeft replied, "it's your fic."
"Okay! Mr. Lucas, who you want voted out?"
"I always didn't like Jabba the Hutt," George Lucas replied.
"Okay, Jeft! It's your job to tell them."
"Who? Me?"
"YES, YOU! WHAT'RE YOU THINKING?"
"Nothing. Jeez, I'm going. I'm going."
Can you believe this? I just had a conversation with George Lucas. Well, most of it was with Jeft, but who cares? I got to talk to George Lucas!
Yeah right."
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Okay, so that's the end of this chapter. Hope you liked it! I was pretty bored so I made everyone have pointless conversations. What do yea think? Chapter Eight is not long behind. REVIEW THIS, PLEASE!
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