Title: Everyone Needs a Hobby
Author: Apprentice D
Rated: PG
Category: Humor, Parody
Spoilers: None
Archive: Jedi-Apprentice
Summary: 15 year old Obi-Wan has a problem. Yoda to the rescue!
Disclaimer: Only visiting your universe, George. Even if I did try to take
credit for it, nobody would believe me!
Feedback: Absolutely!
********
Obi-Wan sat on the steps of the Temple, thoughtfully strumming his guitar. To his right sat his friend and fellow Padawan Kev Naroop, tapping his fingers against his guitar, and on his left sat Zel Tash, banging a tambourine against his knee. They were in a pickle and Obi-Wan reflected that it was all his Master's fault.
"You are too serious, Obi-Wan," he often chided him. "It's not healthy to be so focused on the Force at your age. You need a hobby."
So, Obi-Wan had taken up the guitar. Found that he liked it and was good at it. He had gone on to form a small band with three of his Padawan friends. They had occasionally been requested to play at minor Temple functions. It was after one of these appearances that they had been approached by a businessman from the city. He complimented them on their talent and encouraged them to enter a monthly talent contest at his club. The group had declined at first, insisting it would go against the Jedi Code to perform for any gain. But, somehow, Master Yoda had learned of the offer and encouraged the band to accept.
"Good publicity, it will be," he insisted. "Aloof, people see us. 'Too good to mingle with the rest of us,' they say. Change their minds, this will."
"Well, if you're sure...," Obi-Wan began.
"Keep the credits, of course, you cannot," Yoda continued.
"That's only if we win," Obi-Wan reminded him.
The Jedi Master waved his walking stick in the air. "Talented, you are. Win, you will. Donate the money to the library in Coruscant, you must."
"Of course, Master Yoda."
That had been two weeks ago. The band had practiced daily and the Padawans grew more confident with each day. Then, on the morning of the contest, their drummer, Jal-Y-Serre, had collapsed at morning meal.
"Bha'nussian Fever," the healer had declared. Caused by a bite from the Bha'nussia Bug. She would be fine with a few days rest. But unable to perform with the band that evening.
And so, the three band members sat on the steps, unsure how they could perform without their talented drummer, who was to be featured in a climactic solo that was sure to bring the house to it's feet. Deep in their own thoughts, they did not notice the approach of the venerable Jedi Master. Yoga cleared his throat and tapped Obi-Wan's foot with his stick.
"Master Yoda!"
All three Padawans jumped to their feet.
"Sit down, young ones."
They sat.
"Sense your thoughts, I do. Responsible, I feel. A solution, I offer."
They all leaned in closer to hear the solution of the revered Jedi.
**************************************************************************
Qui-Gon Jinn and Mace Windu made their way into the club. "Quite a
turnout," observed Mace. "I hope we can get a decent seat."
"Not to worry," Qui-Gon responded. "I had a table reserved for us in the front. I want Obi-Wan to know that I'm here to support the band. He seemed a little nervous when he left today."
"That reminds me," Mace said, as he sat down at the round table with the reserved sign, "what are they doing about a drummer? I heard about Jal-Y's illness."
Qui-Gon was busy signaling for the wait-droid. "I'm not sure. I did ask Obi-Wan but his answer didn't make much sense. Something about the ways of the Force being mysterious, indeed." The wait-droid arrived and the two men began to place their orders.
*************************************************************************
Backstage, the Padawans were unloading their equipment. Obi-Wan was
rolling the drumset through the door. Sitting on top of the snare drum was
the diminutive Jedi Master Yoda. A rather stout man, wearing a badge that
read Stage Manager and carrying a datapad, stopped them.
"Name of your group?" he asked.
"The Jedis-in-Training," responded Obi-Wan.
The man eyed them up and down. "Oh, yeah? In training for what?" The man snorted as he laughed at his own joke.
"To be Jedi Knights," Zel volunteered.
"Right, I forgot you guys have no sense of humor."
Yoda spoke up. "We do. Just no humor do we sense in you remark."
The Stage Manager glared at them. "Which one of you is workin' the green puppet? OWWWW!" He rubbed his arm where Yoda's walking stick had landed a stinging blow.
"Respect, you should show. A drummer, not a puppet, I am."
The Stage Manager backed up a few steps. "Aren't you a little.....short.....for a drummer?" he asked sarcastically.
"Size matters not!" snapped the Jedi Master.
"You better hope not, Shorty," was his amused response. Yoda jumped off the drum and began to wave his stick in a menacing fashion. The Stage Manager took a few more steps in retreat.
"Oh, stop, Mac."
Everyone turned to see a petite young lady approaching them. She walked directly in the path of Yoda and stopped. She had a pink feather boa draped around her neck.
"I think he's kinda cute."
"Hmmmmmph. Listen to her, you should. Perceptive, she is." Yoda extended a clawed hand to his admirer. Yoda, I am," he said. "And your name is...?"
"Belle. Of Bester and Belle. Professional fire-eaters."
"Fire-eaters? You mean, you really eat fire?" Obi-Wan asked.
"That's right, honey," she replied, turning her attention to the rest of the band. "Hey, nice costumes," she admired.
"Oh, they're not costumes," Kev replied, "they're more like uniforms."
"Is that so?", interjected Mac. "Look, I got a show to put together. Belle, if you don't sign in, you won't be doin' your act here tonight."
"Okay," Belle giggled. "Bye, boys. Bye, cutie. She waved her feather boa under Yoda's chin as she turned to leave. "Good luck tonight."
"There is no luck, only the Force," Yoda called after her. "May the Force be with you. AAAAAHCHOOOOO!"
Obi-Wan cast a concerned glance at the small Jedi. "Are you allergic to feathers, Master?" he asked.
"Certainly not," Yoda responded. "Drafty, it is, back here." He glared at the Stage Manager's back as he resumed his perch on top of the drum.
**************************************************************************
The lights in the club dimmed and the Master of Ceremonies took the stage.
"Good evening, Gentlebeings, and welcome to the show. We have a special
treat for you tonight. To start the evening's entertainment, we're honored
to present to you, straight from the Jedi Temple, the Jedis-in Training!"
The crowd applauded politely and the curtains parted to the opening chords of the guitars. Obi-Wan stepped up to the microphone and began to sing. He faltered slightly when he caught sight of his Master at one of the tables. Qui-Gon hadn't mentioned that he was planning to attend the performance. He glanced over at his friends, they appeared to be relaxed, and Obi-Wan decided to follow their lead. He only hoped that Master Yoda could keep the beat going.
Front and center, the two Jedi Masters sipped their drinks and settled back to enjoy the show. "You know, it's odd," Mace observed, "I hear the drums but I don't see a drummer."
"Well, there's a beat coming from somewhere," Qui-Gon noted. "Probably a recording."
Behind the drum set, Master Yoda, oldest and wisest living Jedi, sat on the floor and rhythmically beat his cane against the bass drum. "Boring, this is," he thought, "should not have agreed to cut out the drum solo." Maintaining a peripheral sense of what was going on, he entered into a light meditative state.
To the side of the stage, Belle and Bester were practicing their act. Belle watched as Bester thrust the flaming stick down his throat and then withdrew the extinguished prop with a flourish.
"TA-DA!" She extended her arms to emphasize the accomplished feat and flung her feather boa into her partner's face.
"AAAAAHCHOOOOO!"
The sneeze sent a cinder flying onto the stage where it landed on the hem of Yoda's robe.
The song was drawing to a close and the Jedi behind the drums slowly began to remove himself from the meditative state he had created. As total awareness returned to him, he twitched his nose. "Something strange, I smell," he thought, "what is it?" Looking around, he saw a small tendril of smoke rising from the floor.
"YAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"
The audience saw what appeared, at first, to be a small green rocket shoot straight up in the air from behind the drums. When it landed on top of the drums, they realized it was a living being. Yoda was hopping up and down on top of the snare drum, yelling, "FIRE!" He hopped from drum to drum, crashing into cymbals and beating at the drumhead with his walking stick. The three other band members were frozen in place, much like Gantazelles, when caught in the lights of approaching speeders. Qui-Gon half rose from his seat and then sat back down. He looked at Mace, who only shook his head and said, "See it I do, believe it, I do not."
Yoda had managed to remove his robe and was beating it frantically against the drums. Finally, his energy spent, he fell into the cymbals with one final CRASH and rolled onto the floor.
There was a stunned silence for all of five seconds and then the audience went wild. They began clapping and cheering, "More! More!"
Obi-Wan, Kel and Zev ran to the side of their fallen drummer. "Master Yoda, that was smokin'!" Zev said admiringly.
"Smelled it, too, did you?" Yoda asked. He became aware of the reaction of the crowd. Waving the Padawans and their offers of assistance aside he rose from the floor and bowed to the audience. It was several minutes before the room quieted down.
***********************************************************************
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon stood in the Main Hall of the Temple. There, in a
Force-enclosed case, sat the trophy that had been awarded to the First Prize
winners of the Talent Show.
"You did well, my Padawan," Qui-Gon said. "It was truly a performance to remember. I'll never forget the sight of Yoda flying through the air..."
The tapping of a walking stick stopped Qui-Gon mid-sentence.
"Master Yoda," Qui-Gon greeted. "We were just discussing last night's performance."
"Heard you, I did," replied the older Jedi.
"We couldn't have done it without you, Master Yoda," Obi-Wan said sincerely. It was true. All anyone had talked about for the rest of the evening was the spectacular ending to the band's performance.
"Realize that, do you?" The small Jedi Master tugged on Obi-Wan's sleeve and started pulling him down the hallway.
"Oh, yes, Master, you were the highlight of the show," Obi-Wan replied.
"Talk to you about that, I must. Now, about our next gig..."
Their voices trailed away as they turned the corner.
THE END
This was posted on January 15, 2001.
© 2000 heather.lively@ns.sympatico.ca
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