Tales of a Galactic Busboy: Episode IV
Title: Tales of a Galactic Busboy
Episode IV: A Lost Hope
Authors: kaladhwen, darthishtar, jainadurron, kateydidnt, Gardener, and Noelie
based on a concept and character created by Gardener, cross-posted with permission
Fandom: Star Wars, Episode IV
Rating: PG... though there is mention of body parts. ;)
Genre: humor, angst? I dunno
Summary: Episode IV: A New Hope. Mos Eisley Cantina. "I am a busboy...like my father before me."
Author's Notes: This was the first writing collaboration of the Provo FanForce after we watched the Original Trilogy as a series of monthly activities. Gardener made some comment about the busboy that would have to clean up that severed arm... and it took off from there. It took us a few months to write this, and then even longer for me to remember to cross-post it here, as we posted it on the JCF last September. The Star Wars Robot Chicken spoofs reminded me of our fic and I remembered I needed to post it here. Ha.
Tales of a Galactic Busboy
Episode IV: A New Hope
You don't know me. You've never seen me.
But I hate you. All of you.
You're the guy who passed out after drinking too much hrashi. You're the thing that vomited all over the bar. You're the girl who never gave me a tip. And you're the one who leaves body parts around like they're candy wrappers.
But you, Luke Skywalker, you're the worst! There's nowhere in the Galaxy that's far enough away from you, and believe me, I've tried!
Mos Eisley was good to me. I had a speeder. I had a girl who would only spit on me every other day. We had a thing going. I finally got a job where I didn't have to scrape bantha poodoo.
And then you came along. You and that crazy old hermit of yours. Who knew a whiny teenager with a really bad haircut could cause so much trouble?
You see, after you and that crazy guy with the lightsaber came in, things just went from bad to worse. There I was, quietly serving drinks and minding my own business, when suddenly, there's an arm on the floor. And blood everywhere.
Technically, body parts on the floor aren't an unusual occurrence. But do you know how hard it is to get blood off sandstone tile?
Heck, even bodies aren't that weird. Not ten minutes later, I had to drag that thug, Greedo, out-who, by the way, owed me a cut of his winnings. I gave him a hot tip on a podrace with the Hutts, and what does he do, he stiffs me. No pun intended.
That's the bad. It was a shame and all, but I've never had a severed arm get me fired before. With you, Skywalker, it was different. Before I knew what was happening, stormtroopers were swarming all over the place and they arrested me. For not reporting a Jedi sighting. And some rancor spit about "tampering with evidence"!
I'm a busboy, for the love of water! How was I supposed to know that body part was any different than the others?!
So, when barkeep over there got threatened with being shut down, he blamed me. That's gratitude for ya! Now I'll never get a reference! Suns know I need it. After all, there are only so many ways you can pad "body disposal" on your resume. Imperial detention doesn't look too good, either.
Anyway, they realized I had nothing for them. You gotta understand, arms, legs, flagella, entrails...they all look the same to me. So I got five months on Kessel for following orders from my boss. And when I finally got out of there, a "rehabilitated citizen," I had a flag on my record.
Did I mention I got a flag on my permanent record? You're to blame for it all.
Anyway, I finally got out of Imperial lockup, and not only do I have a flag on my permanent record, but the first thing I see is your holopic plastered on the Galaxy's Most Wanted list. And the underground thinks you're some kind of "hero." They wouldn't think that if they knew what I knew. Do you know how many jobs you destroyed with that one shot?? They still had listings! I could have gotten a job working maintenance on the garbage disposal unit!
I was finally able to land a job with Cloud City Catering. Let's just say they didn't care about my record. Mr. Calrissian's not too picky about the background check. It's been a good couple years. I got a promotion, and I just purchased a refurbished airspeeder. There's even some girl here that likes to spit on me, and I think we're reaching an understanding.
Anyway, I gotta run, we've got a big dinner order, some Imperial big wig -- classified identity. That just screams bad tipper.
Let's just hope they don't do background checks on the waiters.
Episode IV: A Lost Hope
Authors: kaladhwen, darthishtar, jainadurron, kateydidnt, Gardener, and Noelie
based on a concept and character created by Gardener, cross-posted with permission
Fandom: Star Wars, Episode IV
Rating: PG... though there is mention of body parts. ;)
Genre: humor, angst? I dunno
Summary: Episode IV: A New Hope. Mos Eisley Cantina. "I am a busboy...like my father before me."
Author's Notes: This was the first writing collaboration of the Provo FanForce after we watched the Original Trilogy as a series of monthly activities. Gardener made some comment about the busboy that would have to clean up that severed arm... and it took off from there. It took us a few months to write this, and then even longer for me to remember to cross-post it here, as we posted it on the JCF last September. The Star Wars Robot Chicken spoofs reminded me of our fic and I remembered I needed to post it here. Ha.
Tales of a Galactic Busboy
Episode IV: A New Hope
You don't know me. You've never seen me.
But I hate you. All of you.
You're the guy who passed out after drinking too much hrashi. You're the thing that vomited all over the bar. You're the girl who never gave me a tip. And you're the one who leaves body parts around like they're candy wrappers.
But you, Luke Skywalker, you're the worst! There's nowhere in the Galaxy that's far enough away from you, and believe me, I've tried!
Mos Eisley was good to me. I had a speeder. I had a girl who would only spit on me every other day. We had a thing going. I finally got a job where I didn't have to scrape bantha poodoo.
And then you came along. You and that crazy old hermit of yours. Who knew a whiny teenager with a really bad haircut could cause so much trouble?
You see, after you and that crazy guy with the lightsaber came in, things just went from bad to worse. There I was, quietly serving drinks and minding my own business, when suddenly, there's an arm on the floor. And blood everywhere.
Technically, body parts on the floor aren't an unusual occurrence. But do you know how hard it is to get blood off sandstone tile?
Heck, even bodies aren't that weird. Not ten minutes later, I had to drag that thug, Greedo, out-who, by the way, owed me a cut of his winnings. I gave him a hot tip on a podrace with the Hutts, and what does he do, he stiffs me. No pun intended.
That's the bad. It was a shame and all, but I've never had a severed arm get me fired before. With you, Skywalker, it was different. Before I knew what was happening, stormtroopers were swarming all over the place and they arrested me. For not reporting a Jedi sighting. And some rancor spit about "tampering with evidence"!
I'm a busboy, for the love of water! How was I supposed to know that body part was any different than the others?!
So, when barkeep over there got threatened with being shut down, he blamed me. That's gratitude for ya! Now I'll never get a reference! Suns know I need it. After all, there are only so many ways you can pad "body disposal" on your resume. Imperial detention doesn't look too good, either.
Anyway, they realized I had nothing for them. You gotta understand, arms, legs, flagella, entrails...they all look the same to me. So I got five months on Kessel for following orders from my boss. And when I finally got out of there, a "rehabilitated citizen," I had a flag on my record.
Did I mention I got a flag on my permanent record? You're to blame for it all.
Anyway, I finally got out of Imperial lockup, and not only do I have a flag on my permanent record, but the first thing I see is your holopic plastered on the Galaxy's Most Wanted list. And the underground thinks you're some kind of "hero." They wouldn't think that if they knew what I knew. Do you know how many jobs you destroyed with that one shot?? They still had listings! I could have gotten a job working maintenance on the garbage disposal unit!
I was finally able to land a job with Cloud City Catering. Let's just say they didn't care about my record. Mr. Calrissian's not too picky about the background check. It's been a good couple years. I got a promotion, and I just purchased a refurbished airspeeder. There's even some girl here that likes to spit on me, and I think we're reaching an understanding.
Anyway, I gotta run, we've got a big dinner order, some Imperial big wig -- classified identity. That just screams bad tipper.
Let's just hope they don't do background checks on the waiters.