That's No Moon, That's a Bowling Ball by Jessica Korte and Madelyn Loadsman
Senior Fan Fiction Entry
That’s No Moon. That’s a Bowling Ball!
A Star Wars FanFiction by Jessica Korte (aka DragonRidingSorceress) and Madelyn Loadsman (aka maddymouse).
Summary: Take your bowling ball. Strike the pins down with it. Now, give it a name! (Yes, the title is a Ben Kenobi quote… kind of.)
Disclaimer: We own nothing except the original, crazy idea. Everything else belongs to others – mainly Geoge Lucas & Tripod, but there's others in here as well. Yes, we do know it’s sad to make send-ups of send-ups, but we can’t help it. It’s fun!
Disclaimer: We own nothing except the original, crazy idea. Everything else belongs to others – mainly Geoge Lucas & Tripod, but there's others in here as well. Yes, we do know it’s sad to make send-ups of send-ups, but we can’t help it. It’s fun!
===
Chapter One: The Letters
Padme, with a woman’s instincts and excellent hearing, called from the shower, “Ani, dear, can you get the mail?”
Anakin got up from the couch, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. Why isn’t she a Jedi? She’s got the hearing. The postman only just came!” He wandered over to the door, and picked up the huge stack of letters. “Bill, bill, senate stuff, senate, blackmail, fanmail, blackmail, stalker, bill, invitation, bill – invitation?”
Anakin dumped the other letters, and carefully opened the invitation.
Rip!
“Hey, Padme! You’re invited to a bowling party! Hey, it says take a friend! I’m your friend! At least, I get friendly with you. Can I come?”
“No. I don’t want to have to deal with a cranky, evil Jedi when I kick your butt.”
“Is that a challenge? Hey, look! It says 2 games for $12! Shoe hire & food included! Can we go? Please? Please-please-please?”
“Why did I marry you? You’re such a child!”
“I’m five years younger than you. What do you expect? So, can I come?”
“Oh, alright. I give up!”
Anakin got up from the couch, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. Why isn’t she a Jedi? She’s got the hearing. The postman only just came!” He wandered over to the door, and picked up the huge stack of letters. “Bill, bill, senate stuff, senate, blackmail, fanmail, blackmail, stalker, bill, invitation, bill – invitation?”
Anakin dumped the other letters, and carefully opened the invitation.
Rip!
“Hey, Padme! You’re invited to a bowling party! Hey, it says take a friend! I’m your friend! At least, I get friendly with you. Can I come?”
“No. I don’t want to have to deal with a cranky, evil Jedi when I kick your butt.”
“Is that a challenge? Hey, look! It says 2 games for $12! Shoe hire & food included! Can we go? Please? Please-please-please?”
“Why did I marry you? You’re such a child!”
“I’m five years younger than you. What do you expect? So, can I come?”
“Oh, alright. I give up!”
===
Obi-Wan rolled out of bed when the knocking didn’t go away. “Coming, coming! Hold your banthas!”
He had fallen asleep fully dressed, so he just shoved his feet into his ug-boots.
He opened the door to see a Clone Trooper. “What now?”
The Clone held out an envelope. “Your mail, sir.”
“Oh, ok. Come on in.”
Obi-Wan turned and went inside. The Clone, still holding the letter, followed, hitting his head on the door frame as he entered.
“Mind the door!” called Obi-Wan over his shoulder.
The Clone stared at Obi-Wan. Was he… surely not… but yes, he was wearing pink, high-heeled ug-boots. Obi-Wan, opening the letter, which had mysteriously appeared in his hand, (we’re not quite sure how) saw the stare.
“Yoda tried to talk me out of buying these. I’m not sure why. I think they make me look taller. What do you think?”
“Um…”
But Obi-Wan wasn’t paying attention to the Clone. He was reading his invitation. “Bowling? I’ve never been bowling before. It says bring a friend. Damn, I don’t have any friends. Hey, Clone, do you wanna come bowling?”
The Clone looked him up and down, grateful for the helmet covering his horrified expression. “Is that an order… sir?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to make it, but yes. You have to come bowling with me.”
“Yes, sir!” he saluted, thinking ‘Curse this obedience thing!’
He had fallen asleep fully dressed, so he just shoved his feet into his ug-boots.
He opened the door to see a Clone Trooper. “What now?”
The Clone held out an envelope. “Your mail, sir.”
“Oh, ok. Come on in.”
Obi-Wan turned and went inside. The Clone, still holding the letter, followed, hitting his head on the door frame as he entered.
“Mind the door!” called Obi-Wan over his shoulder.
The Clone stared at Obi-Wan. Was he… surely not… but yes, he was wearing pink, high-heeled ug-boots. Obi-Wan, opening the letter, which had mysteriously appeared in his hand, (we’re not quite sure how) saw the stare.
“Yoda tried to talk me out of buying these. I’m not sure why. I think they make me look taller. What do you think?”
“Um…”
But Obi-Wan wasn’t paying attention to the Clone. He was reading his invitation. “Bowling? I’ve never been bowling before. It says bring a friend. Damn, I don’t have any friends. Hey, Clone, do you wanna come bowling?”
The Clone looked him up and down, grateful for the helmet covering his horrified expression. “Is that an order… sir?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to make it, but yes. You have to come bowling with me.”
“Yes, sir!” he saluted, thinking ‘Curse this obedience thing!’
===
Meanwhile…
Hey, it’s the “Meanwhile Guy” I like you. You’re handy.
Yeah, thanks. Anyway, meanwhile…
In the council chambers, an argument was raging.
“Make fun of my height, do not!” Yoda admonished sternly.
“You don’t have any height to make fun of.” Ki-Adi told him sourly.
“Yes, Yoda,” said Yarael Poof. The Quermian Jedi Master was the tallest member of the Council. “It’s because of you we all have to sit on these tiny chairs. We’re not all midgits, you know! I get a neck-ache after every meeting. I need a lot of support, you know.”
“Your cake hole shut, Master Poofta.”
“Poof, not Poofta!”
“Who’s a poofta?” asked Mace, entering the room.
“The one with the pink lightsabre,” muttered Saesee Tiin.
“What did you say?”
Hey, it’s the “Meanwhile Guy” I like you. You’re handy.
Yeah, thanks. Anyway, meanwhile…
In the council chambers, an argument was raging.
“Make fun of my height, do not!” Yoda admonished sternly.
“You don’t have any height to make fun of.” Ki-Adi told him sourly.
“Yes, Yoda,” said Yarael Poof. The Quermian Jedi Master was the tallest member of the Council. “It’s because of you we all have to sit on these tiny chairs. We’re not all midgits, you know! I get a neck-ache after every meeting. I need a lot of support, you know.”
“Your cake hole shut, Master Poofta.”
“Poof, not Poofta!”
“Who’s a poofta?” asked Mace, entering the room.
“The one with the pink lightsabre,” muttered Saesee Tiin.
“What did you say?”
“Saesee’s right, you know. It is kinda suss that you’ve got a pink lightsabre. I mean, it would be alright if you were a chick, but I mean, seriously – a bald black guy with a pink lightsabre?” pointed out Depa Billaba.
“IT’S PURPLE!” shouted Mace.
“Know where this argument goes, we do,” said Yoda. “Your fault it is we have short chairs. Not mine. So, there, Poofta! Afford replacements we cannot. A budget we have, you know!” Then he saw the letter in Mace’s hand. “Ooh! Letter! Gimme gimme gimme!” he reached out with his clawed green hands.
Mace held the letter out of Yoda’s reach – about three feet off the ground. “Come on! Jump, boy, jump! You can get it!”
Yoda gave Mace a hostile glare. “Regret, at times like this, that a Darksider I am not. At least pink undies I do not wear.”
Everyone was staring at Yoda – and trying desperately not to look at Mace. There were very loud whispers of “…like his lightsabre…?”
“How did you know – Oh, crap. Here!” He thrust the letter at Yoda. Yoda, grinning ecstatically, opened the letter carefully.
Rip!
“To go bowling I have been invited. Take a friend I must. Hm. How about it, baldy?”
“As long as no one puts my head in the waxer again. That was annoying.”
===
Anakin ‘snuck’ back into his appartment. He opened the door, walked in – and slipped on a letter.
“Aargh!” he shouted. “It’s a Sith assasination attempt! Oh, wait, it’s just a letter. Hey! A letter!”
He opened it carefully.
Rip!
“Another invitation! For me! Yay! I’m important!”
He got out his comm link. “Padme, Padme… now, which number was she… I know it’s one of these things…” He began reciting the speed dial buttons. “1 was Mom… 2 was Dex’s Diner… 3 was the dry cleaners… 4 was Obi-Wan… 5 was Padme... or was itPalpatine? Hang on, I think Padme's 6. Let's try it...” He pressed number 6.
“Hello, this is Chancellor Palpatine.”
‘Damn, wrong number,’ though Anakin. “Um, hi, Palpatine.”
“Anakin Skywalker! My favourite Jedi! What can I do you for?”
“Sorry, I was actually trying to get Pad- someone else, about bowling.”
“Bowling? I love bowling! Drinks all around! Can I come?”
“Um, yeah, sure. It says I can take a friend.”
“Oh, Anakin! I never knew you cared!”
“Um, sure. See you.”
He hit the button that ended the conversation. “That was… awkward. Hm, I guess that means Padme’s number 5.” He hit the button.
“Hey, Padme!”
“Anakin! What the hell do you think your doing!”
"Sorry, Padme! I just wanted to tell you: I’m important! I’ve got an invitation of my own! I don’t need to come with you! You’ll have to find someone else to go with you!”
“Oh? And who are you taking?”
“Er… Palpatine.”
“Palpatine? You invited the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic to go bowling!”
“Actually, he invited himself.”
“You mean you called him first? Before me?”
“Er, I hit the 6 instead of the 5.”
“Oh, ok. Wait! I’m number 5 on your speed-dial? Who’s before me?”
“Er…”
Just then, a voice was heard in the background. “Senator? Senator? Yousa here?”
“I’m on the comm, Jar Jar!”
“Whosa yousa talking to?" The Gungan peered at the comm link "Ani! Mesa so happy to see you!”
“Um, I’ve gotta go. See yas!” Anakin hung up.
With a sigh, Padme turned to Jar Jar. “I’m probably going to regret this later, but – can you bowl?”
Rip!
“Another invitation! For me! Yay! I’m important!”
He got out his comm link. “Padme, Padme… now, which number was she… I know it’s one of these things…” He began reciting the speed dial buttons. “1 was Mom… 2 was Dex’s Diner… 3 was the dry cleaners… 4 was Obi-Wan… 5 was Padme... or was itPalpatine? Hang on, I think Padme's 6. Let's try it...” He pressed number 6.
“Hello, this is Chancellor Palpatine.”
‘Damn, wrong number,’ though Anakin. “Um, hi, Palpatine.”
“Anakin Skywalker! My favourite Jedi! What can I do you for?”
“Sorry, I was actually trying to get Pad- someone else, about bowling.”
“Bowling? I love bowling! Drinks all around! Can I come?”
“Um, yeah, sure. It says I can take a friend.”
“Oh, Anakin! I never knew you cared!”
“Um, sure. See you.”
He hit the button that ended the conversation. “That was… awkward. Hm, I guess that means Padme’s number 5.” He hit the button.
“Hey, Padme!”
“Anakin! What the hell do you think your doing!”
"Sorry, Padme! I just wanted to tell you: I’m important! I’ve got an invitation of my own! I don’t need to come with you! You’ll have to find someone else to go with you!”
“Oh? And who are you taking?”
“Er… Palpatine.”
“Palpatine? You invited the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic to go bowling!”
“Actually, he invited himself.”
“You mean you called him first? Before me?”
“Er, I hit the 6 instead of the 5.”
“Oh, ok. Wait! I’m number 5 on your speed-dial? Who’s before me?”
“Er…”
Just then, a voice was heard in the background. “Senator? Senator? Yousa here?”
“I’m on the comm, Jar Jar!”
“Whosa yousa talking to?" The Gungan peered at the comm link "Ani! Mesa so happy to see you!”
“Um, I’ve gotta go. See yas!” Anakin hung up.
With a sigh, Padme turned to Jar Jar. “I’m probably going to regret this later, but – can you bowl?”
===
Here’s a link to chapter 2: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2796345/2/
posted by Jess @ 12:38 PM
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