The Icing on The Cake

By Jemmiah

So you want to know why I've managed to find myself in the infirmary, yet again?

You want to know for what reason my blood has been spilled? In what cause I have sacrificed myself? Why I find I have been, for want of a better description, skewered like a piece of meat on an open spit? Why, for true love, supposedly. Inasmuch as Jedi are allowed to have true loves (but more on that later).

My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi and I'm a cripple-aholic. I'm twenty two years of age and I have had more perforations than a colander: all part of my duty as a supposedly noble and daring Jedi Padawan, or so I used to think. Nowadays I've come to the conclusion that the force is out to get me any way it can…

However, this is irrelevant. You wish to hear my current tale of woe and misery, don't you?

Let's just say it began with a kiss. Or to be more precise several kisses, it being Jemmy's seventeenth birthday. My master was sent away on a mission without me, which probably means he will also be missing limbs and appendages on his return, and unusual as this turn of events was I couldn't help but rejoice (at my master being away, not the idea of his missing limbs).

You see, this gave myself and a few others the chance to try and think up something slightly special for Jemmy's birthday celebration. We knew that after last year's party we would really have to do something spectacular to surpass it: frankly the image of Master Windu drunk on pain killer wearing only an oven glove will stay with me for the rest of my days…anyway, I digress. Jay Abran appointed himself head of entertainment and good ideas, which as I pointed out were not a likely combination of words when coupled with his own name. This mild insult didn't remotely deter Jay, just as I had feared: he threw himself headlong into the challenge with his usual gusto and energy.

Simeon said he would order the cake. Zac said he would write a special poem to mark the occasion. I said I would just go off and cry in a corner somewhere…

Jemmy's a popular person. I mean yes, I am slightly biased seeing as how I'm her…well, her…her everything really. I've been her friend, her confidant, her brother and her lover. Actually, the last two sound rather bad together, don't they? No matter: the fact is that people seem to like her even if she's not aware of the fact. This is the first birthday she will have marked since we became something more than friends, and I was determined to make sure that the day was one that would live long in people's memories.

We managed to achieve this aim but perhaps not in the manner one would have hoped for.

Suffice it to say that when the entertainment and catering officers put their heads together to combine their wonderful ideas I knew that something was going to go hideously wrong - probably for me. Simeon's cake duly arrived: it was almost as big as Jemmy's Wookiee friend Flint! Although Jemmy is frequently to be heard boasting that 'big is best', I really thought in this instance she would spend the whole afternoon complaining about the amount of weight she would put on trying to polish the thing off! Whilst it was a spectacle to behold with its seven large platformed tiers and its piped pink icing there was a part of me thinking that Simeon had gone for the biggest cake imaginable so that he could have the majority share of it (call me suspicious if you want). That was when Jay told me that the cake was actually hollow apart from the top two layers, and that the surprise was to be found in the middle.

Apparently that surprise was to be me.

Abran's master plan was to have me jump out of the cake at a pre-arranged moment and give Jemmy a huge surprise. I think he wanted me to wear a feather boa but I told him there was a Hutt in hell's chance. Besides, I've developed an allergy to Tooni feathers after last year's debacle. Whilst the idea held a certain amount of appeal I felt fairly confident that even if Jemmy appreciated the grandiose sentiment she would probably scream with shock on seeing some madman jump out of a cake and accost her. Well, come to think of it I had no immediate plans to accost her…I was planning on leaving that until much later when we were private.

Against my better judgement and ignoring my innate force warnings I agreed, like the fool that I am.

There was quite a crowd there. Rela, Spider, Jemmy's friend Verity. Most of the padawans seemed to be male, for some reason. I remember thinking that somewhat odd at the time. I'm sure Jemmy was slightly puzzled as to my absence in proceedings and I remained certain that she would deduce that something was going on. The things one does in the name of devotion!

Outside the room I got in the cake and Jay and Simeon wheeled me in.

That was the point at which everything started going badly, if I might be so bold as to speculate. As plans go ours was a no-hoper from the start! Simeon was supposed to stamp his feet loudly so as to alert me when it was safe to jump out of the cake, but inside I couldn't hear a thing! Even the force doesn't seem to work beneath several thick layers of sponge and fondant icing! So, there I was; crouched inside waiting for a cue that never came.

Now, this is the bit that I really dislike.

Don't get me wrong: I adore Jemmy. You're not really supposed to form attachments to people when you are Jedi, but any attachment I had for her was formed years ago, before we even met, I sometimes think. In truth I find it easier to forgive her little misdemeanours than perhaps I should. I would do almost anything she asked of me…well, within reason (the last jelly worm in the packet is mine no matter who I'm sharing them with). That's why when people refer to being 'struck by the dart of love' I prefer it not to be in the literal sense. One minute I'm sitting in this cake dressed rather tastelessly as a parcel (I told you Jay's ideas weren't to be trusted) complete with red ribbons and all the trim, and the next I feel this almighty pain in my thigh!

I think I might have screamed. I can't really remember: I was too busy trying to work out why I had been stabbed in the leg.

It turned out that Jemmiah, in her enthusiasm for Simeon's gift, had picked up a huge knife and started to cut the cake…or rather stab it randomly in the side. I suppose it's lucky she didn't start any lower down, or else it might not have been my leg in bandages this time…

The one good thing I took away from the ghastly affair was not being around to hear Zac's poetry being read out to the tasteless masses assembled in the guest reception room. I think they had already been suitably entertained by my little escapade. I'm sure I saw Jay and Ned laughing as I was stretchered away by An-Paj for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the space of a month. Even the fruit jelly Tanni was hiding his mirth behind was wobbling with laughter. At least Rela and Jemmy had the grace to look concerned as the healers untied my ribbons. However, as soon as they realised I was going to be fine they went back to their cake!

Would it be ungentlemanly of me if I hope they get fat?

And Simeon? What of he? What of our resident healer, who helped to stem the blood flowing from my wound? My friend who, like all healers, gives the impression of finding amusement in other people's suffering even when I know it not to be the case? He spent the rest of the day walking around the infirmary with a smile wider than a Hutt at an 'eat-all-you-want for 20 credits' restaurant. Eventually I could stand his infernal cheerfulness no longer. I asked him if he thought my spilled blood had been the highlight of the party.

He replied no.

But it had been the icing on the cake.