OBI-WAN THE MURDERER

My name is Owen Lars, moisture farmer extraordinaire. My step-brother, Anakin Skywalker, was betrayed and murdered by his mentor, Obi-wan Kenobi. I know this because Watto told me. This blog site is intended to raise awareness in the greater Mos Eisley area that this criminal is at large, living in our community, and what I, and hopefully others who care, plan to do about it.

20050618

The big meeting

No one showed up for the meeting. Not even my "pal" Watto, who promised on our friendship he'd not only come, but be responsible for the snacks and refreshments as well. I took the day off from farming so I could prepare the Powerpoint presentation, complete with graphs, projection data, and a very specific cost breakdown. I re-arranged the living room furniture to accomodate about 114 guests, in case word of mouth about the meeting spread like wildfire, and droves of local residents arrived unexpectedly. But that wasn't the case. Because I had spotlessly cleaned the house, I made Beru and the baby wait outside all day, so they wouldn't mess anything up. This may have aggravated the baby's sunburn. Oh, well, I figured it was worth it if we could rid ourselves of Kenobi once and for all. It wasn't until half past 4 that I realized no one was coming. I was furious! I literally felt the blood boil inside my angry arteries. I was so pissed I could have thrown Obi-wan in lava! I went outside and began kicking everything I could find, even the old speeder I got up on blocks. I immediately went back to the cantina to curse some lifeforms out. Everyone was still there, as if they had never left. When asked why they didn't show up, or even call, some said they forgot, others said they thought it was another day, and some insisted they never spoke to me about it! Unbelievable! Bib Fortuna suggested we move the meeting to a different time, but I wasn't having it. The meeting was gonna be now! With Shevo's permission, I re-arranged the bar and sectioned off an area in the back where we could have privacy. Because many at the meeting were 3 sheets to the sandstorm, many bad, impossible, and ludicrous suggestions were made. One bozo suggested that we drown Obi-wan. In what? We live on a planet almost completely void of water! Idiots! Taking over the meeting from my inept colleagues, I declared that Obi-wan needs to be sent a "message," and that we should abduct him in the dead of night dressed like sandpeople. A few folks seemed on board, until an ugly dwarf-like thing asked the most obnoxious question I ever heard. He wanted to know why we wanted to get rid of Obi-wan so badly. After telling him the tale of the violent death of my brother and friend Anakin, and that Obi-wan is a renegade Jedi wanted by the republic, he still seemed unconvinced. In fact, he didn't even believe me! He asked me where I got my information, and I told him Watto. At that point everyone started laughing, saying I shouldn't listen to anything that winged-freak says. At that point, no one was on board any more. They didn't even believe that Obi-wan WAS Obi-wan, they kept saying he was just a really cool guy named Ben. Being surrounded by this many imbeciles at one time was too much! I promised the crowd of desert-trash that I would prove to them that he was a Jedi. I told them I would sneak into his house and steal his laser sword. The crowd agreed that if Ben Kenobi possesses such a weapon, they would believe me and help me run him out of town. I drove home with a lot on my mind. How would I get into Obi-wan's house without him sensing me with his dark Jedi powers? I couldn't send R2, as that was a complete disaster the last time. The droid probably beeped and whistled the whole way to Obi-wan's, and that's how he got caught. After pondering long and hard, I came up with the ultimate plan. I would send the droid first, as a distraction, and when that killer comes to my house to return him, I'll sneak in and take the weapon. I must admit, I'm one cunning genious. They don't call me the queen of the desert for nothing. My plan goes into effect tonight, and then we'll be rid of the monster! Life is good!

20050617

Circle the wagons, boys!

I'm so upset right now I could tear the wings off a mynock and eat his entrails. After a long day of toiling in the desert for the few meager drops of moisture that I managed to collect, Beru told me she needed to go into town and buy some formula for the baby. At first, I was miffed that she didn't plan ahead, but soon changed my tune when I realized I was almost out of space-snuff. Her being in town would save me a trip, as I'd have her pick up the snuff. The only place in Mos Eisely that sells my brand of snuff, a more generic brand, is just about the roughest place in the entire spaceport. I'M even afraid to walk in there-in the daytime, even. But who could harm Beru, she's so sweet. So I gave her a few credits and sent her on her merry way. She suggested that the baby, who hadn't yet had a nap, should stay home with me, but I told her no. The baby seems to have it in for me, I'm telling you, and the last thing I need is some one-on-one time with him. So she ended up taking him to Mos Eisely. I was in a pretty decent mood when Beru returned, but it wouldn't last long. It seems she ran into my arch-nemesis Obi-wan at the fabric store. It seems he's the new toast of the town! Beru tells me that all the women are talking about our newest resident; how handsome he is, how well-mannered he is, and how good he smells. How good he smells? He walks around in 115 degree heat in heavy robes and he still manages to smell good? What a jerk! The ladies seem really smitten on him, given the fact that he's new and mysterious. But that's all he has, I tell you, just the mystique. It'll wear off soon enough. After hearing all of Beru's tales, I decided that Obi-wan isn't only MY problem, but everybody's problem. It affects everyone in the greater Mos Eisley area. At this point I had a revelation! Strength in numbers. There had to be other like-minded residents who didn't care for this crazy wizard, and would like him to vanish forever. At that point, I knew exactly what I had to do. I would round up everyone I could to aid me in my quest. I figured I should start tonight. The cantina's as good a place as any to find allies. I drove there without haste, telling Beru I was having a heart attack and needed to see a doctor immediately. When I got to the cantina, I couldn't find a parking spot. Now, I know that on a Friday night parking can be difficult, but this was absolutely ridiculous. I finally had to pay ten credits to have a shifty-looking Tusken park my speeder in a very ominous part of town. The streets reaked of sewer. I finally made it on foot to the cantina. They charge cover on weekends, but I expected that. I was able to sneak in without paying, like I usually do, by making a scene in front of the customers that there still wasn't a handicapped ramp installed for my poor, crippled father, so he could enjoy the club just the same as any 2-legged species. Trying to avoid a lawsuit and negative publicity in the press, They always let me in. This time was no different. Once inside, I noticed a lot of familiar faces. I approached each and every one of them, in hopes that they would join my cause. They all promised me they'd be at my house at 3:00 tomorrow for a meeting in which we'd discuss what to do with the wretched Obi-wan. I grew more excited by the minute. By the time I left, I was quite confident that most of the people I spoke with would be there, except for Sebulba the dug, as he had a big podrace in Mos Espa the next day. I found my speeder and drove home to find everyone asleep, even dad. Thank the maker! I needed a little quiet time to reflect on things, and plan the important meeting scheduled for tomorrow. I know they'll all be here, I just know it. I better get some sleep, however, I can't fail this time. By this time tomorrow, Obi-wan Kenobi will be but a memory! What a beautiful thought.

Lars- out!

20050616

Shmi's corpse

I fell asleep in my space-cot this afternoon, due to the stress of being viciously and innocently attacked by the Tatooine ghetto trash known as the Tusken Raiders. What scum they are, even their names suck. I mean, what kind of name is Raider, really. Why in the force would that be someone's name? Friggin' weirdos! I wish they'd all collapse from heat-stroke or awkwardly fall on a long-forgotten landmine from the infamous Suufi Desert Wars, and have their flesh and sinew torn a-frickin'-asunder and strewn about the desert surface like flower garlands in a typically beautiful Theed autumn. Basically, I wish they'd all die. I hate their clans and banthas with their expensive hoof-rims, rims, mind-you, that are usually worth more than the bantha, itself. But that's not what I feel like conversing about tonight. I awoke at 7:30 this evening, still recovering from my battle-wounds, and went up to the surface to see what was going on. Thankfully, the baby was already in bed, and Beru was reading/watching a holo-book about parenting. Dad, however, was once again passed out on Shmi's grave, but this time his hands had managed to dig almost two feet into the ground. My heart skipped a beat as I noticed this. He gets in these moods to dig the woman up, but doesn't realize that it's all in vain. He's so stupid, he doesn't know that her remains are no longer down there. Shortly after we buried her, I discovered a great way to make our farming more efficient, but it involved running vapor-lines through the very place where Shmi's casket resided. Of the thousands of acres of desert we own, it was this very location, Shmi's rest-site, that I needed to clear for my latest project. So I did what anybody would have done in the situation, I dug up her remains. Luckily for me, Beru had taken dad to his therapist appointment that afternoon for dreams he recently had, dreams involving tortured wives and lazy sons, as he put it, so I was alone (this is well before that imposing child and murdering neighbor entered my life- back when times were good.)It just so happened that my pal Watto was in town while I dug the heavy box up, and he happened upon me during the critical lifting stage, where I finally got the heavy piece of crap to the surface. Upon seeing the casket, Watto began scratching his chin, a sign that there was money to be made. He explained to me that the coffin's metal was rare, and at high demand at the moment, and that he could turn around and sell it for a quick profit. I quickly agreed, selling him the box and its contents, without thinking twice. I mean, if he wants this trash, and I won't have to re-bury it somewhere else, how could I lose? What an idiot he is! Days later I found out that he sold the metal to the leading recycler in the area, and that the pay-off was quite handsome. I got a nice cut, as did Watto, and we were all happy. As far as Shmi's remains go, that's up to the recycling company. What they did with her was up to them, but I hope they were honorable enough to do the right thing with her skeletal remains. I'm sure they did, they've been in business a long while, and not because they're shifty. But I need not worry. Dad, in his present gimpish stage, couldn't dig deep enough with his bare hands to discover his darling slave woman missing, and even if he did, I'd most likely find a way to pin the blame on Beru, or better yet, on the baby. Either way, I'm gold. You know, earlier I felt a bit down, but I'm starting to think that things are starting to look up. It's about time, don't you think?

Lars- out!

Beaten senseless


I was out until 4:00 in the morning. When I woke, I didn't know where I was. It was a nice hotel room, and on the nightstand was a phone number for someone named George C. Scott, whoever that is. It was past 11, and the hotel employees were beating down the door, as I was supposed to clear out already. With a monstrous headache, I collected my belongings and hit the streets. At first I couldn't find my speeder, but then realized it was still at the garage. It was a short walk, and I picked it up. On the way out of the city, I got into a fender-bender with an Ithorian driving a swoop bike. The driver wasn't badly hurt, but did require some hospitalization. The speeder only suffered a few scratches. The worst part is that my insurance had lapsed, as I had missed a good deal of payments, and the cop charged me with some misdemeanors. Just great! Now I gotta appear in court at the end of the month. Thinking my day couldn't possibly get worse, I headed home. Driving through the vast wasteland known as the Dune Sea, I caught glimpse of several figures grouped together in the horizon. Upon closer inspection, I realized they were sandpeople. How I hate those vile creatures with a white-hot passion. There was about 6 of them, and they seemed to be unarmed. Probably the same ones who tortured and killed Shmi. I was already in a foul mood, so I felt it would be fun to mess with them. When the speeder got close to them, they began fleeing in different directions. I picked one especially frail, definitely unarmed Tusken and tried to run him down. He scampered for cover in a rocky area, but I pursued nonetheless. He managed to wedge himself in between a tall rock formation, and I probably shouldn't have followed, as the speeder got stuck in the rocks. I tried in vain to dislodge it by putting it in reverse, and realized I'd have to manually push it. As soon as I exited the vehicle, he jumped me. Then the others joined. They took turns pummeling my flesh with their fists, then kicked me in the face and other places violently. They also poked my eyes, pulled my hair, cut me, ripped my clothes, tossed me against sharp rocks, twisted my spine, pinched me, stepped on me, beat me with sticks, insulted me, rubbed my face in the sand, put me in a headlock, choked me, and punched me in the butt. This went on for quite a while. But that's how those savages are, they'll just attack you like that unprovoked. Anyway, I came-to some time later, alone, bloodied, and with my speeder still stuck. With the little energy I had, I pushed it clear of the rocks and sped home. When I got back to the farm, everyone was outside waiting for me. Beru was frantic and dad was visibly upset, asking where I had been. Upon seeing my many bruises and lacerations, however, their moods changed. I told them I was attacked by the Raiders last night on my way home from the garage. I wove a wonderful tale of how they tied me up and tortured me all night, and how I managed to escape and kill all my captors, including the women and children. They felt sorry for me, cleaned up my wounds, told me how much they love me, and told me to rest. Dad said he'd finish the day's farming, something he never does. Worked out pretty sweet, actually. I'll probably just chill in bed the rest of the day. Thanks, sandpeople.

20050615

Shut up, everyone!



They're all driving me to my breaking point. After the grueling day of work I experienced today, the last thing I needed was to have Beru and pops busting my spheres. But that's what they did. I worked until sunsset, driven by an inexplicable desire to collect at least 3/4 of a bucket of pure water, and I don't mean water with sand and crap floating in it, but pure H2 frickin' O. And guess what, I did just that! But when I got home, my heroic tale fell on deaf ears, as Beru was busy attending to "the creator's gift to mothers," and daddy-one-leg was way too preoccupied with feeling sorry for himself, a feeling that he must be desperately trying to accustom himself to, as humble and selfless as he is. This was the mood at dinnertime, and I must tell you, I lost my appetite. So I explained to them I had to travel to Anchorhead to get the speeder fixed, due to its alignment problem. They all readily bought it, and I was on my merry way. The truth was that the speeder's alignment was way off, but it was no emergency by any means. I just really needed to get away. I drove to Mos Eisely and stopped at the nearest garage that was closest to a bar. This was still before sunsdown, so after a couple of powerful drinks, I decided it would be a good idea to walk around the city afoot. After a while, as if by destiny's enticement, I happened upon an old folk's home in the center of the city. Out of sheer curiosity, I stumbled inside. I then met the most delightful woman, a changeling named George C. Scott. She was the curator of the nursing home/museum know as Al-Ta_PPP=oo/ity Oaks. What a tremendous place! I frickin' loved it! I immediately had visions, daydreams, hallucinations, flashbacks(?), and premonitions of this place, but why I didn't know. Symotaniously, I had a bad attack of the gas, for whatever that's worth. Anyway, George C. Scott and I started talking about dad, and how badly he needs to live here, either that or suffer a tragic fate at the hands of a loved one, such as a son, or said son's girlfriend, if said son could convince the lass without said lass being wise...In other words...How much will it cost? The wheelin' and dealin' was interesting, and after several back-and-forths, we settled on a seemingly cost-effective and fair price. But to be honest, I may have had too many drinks by that point, and desired to resume negotiations the following morning. Being so late, George C. Scott agreed, and I put myself up in the swankiest hotel on the strip, under the impression that Patton would pick up the tab. Part of me felt bad, knowing that Beru was at home dealing with the obviously unpleasant Luke, a spoiled child who can't wait to grow up and despise his under-achieving uncle for not amounting to an even close proximity of what his dad may have been, given the opportunity. But that's neither here nor there. And in the meanwhile the baby has what seems to be pretty severe skin boils due to a recent sun-burning incident, an incident I think Beru played a major part in. Shame on her. Oh, well, I'm loving my room. I figure Beru's frantic with worry right now, but dad's probably passed out by now. It all equalizes at the end, doesn't it? I'll definitely stick around tonight, check out the nightlife and what-not. Beru's gonna be pissed tomorrow, I think. But it's all for the greater good. I think.

I don't just think................I know!

Lars- out!

The monster came by last night



What a crazy day yesterday turned out to be. After the debacle with the power, I was far too stressed to begin farming, but it still needed to get done, so I sent Beru out. She complained that she needed to watch the baby, but I wasn't going to fall for that one. I told her to drag him along behind her in a large bucket or something. Besides, he could use the suns, he's far too pale. Finally with some time on my hands, I decided to focus my attention on my "Jedi" problem. I started tinkering with R2, programming him with more specific spy instructions. Meanwhile, dad kept pestering me to take him into town, as he was fresh out of "man cream." I'm still not sure exactly what that is, and I don't want to know. But the truth was I was too busy with R2 to take him. He kept shouting directly into my left ear until I threw my tools down in a torrent of rage. Beru was just getting back from her day's labor, so I told her to take dad to the store. She said she couldn't, as the baby was badly sun-burned. I told her to leave the baby with me, and while she was out she could buy some baby-bacta skin care lotion. So they left, but that painfully-burned nephew of mine wouldn't stop crying. It was driving me crazy! I had to finally leave him alone in the house, as I went out to see the droid off on its second mission. This time it wouldn't fail, or so I thought. About 15 minutes later, I was in the living room enjoying a delicious snack when I heard a knock at the door. Who in blazes could it be? I peered through the blinds, and was shocked to see Obi-wan standing there with R2. I immediately dropped to the floor, staying out of view of the window. Obi-wan knocked again, a forceful knock that complimented the intense beating of my heart. What does he want? Did he catch my droid in the act? I kept wishing he'd go away, but with the baby still crying so loud, he had to know someone was home. I bravely crawled over to the baby and put my hand over its mouth to muffle its howling. Obi-wan never knocked again. I waited a good while to make sure he was gone. Peering through the blinds yet again, I saw only the droid on the front porch. Upon opening the door, I noticed a note on the astromech's head. It read, "Thought this droid might belong to you, I found it on my property. He probably got lost." It was signed, "Your new neighbor, Ben Kenobi." What a jerk. He ever tries coming to my house again, I'll take my shiny silver blasters (see above) and blast him to the other side of the force! Anyway, shortly after that Beru returned, applied ointment to the baby, and turned in early. Dad went to his room and cried for several hours. Why, I don't know. I poured a drink and contemplated my next move. The droid has proven himself useless. But the problem still remains. My brother's killer is still out there, living a full life while Anakin, cut down in his prime, is but a memory in my heart. My mind has gone blank. Perhaps my readers will assist me with any ideas they may have regarding the disposal of said adversary from my life. Perhaps comments will be left under this post that will aid me in my endeavor. I can't even think in this house. Dad, stop crying! Anyway, I got a decent night's rest after all. I got a lot of farming today, but no fresh ideas. I wish Obi-wan would just move away or die. I'm really depressed. I hope the rest of the day goes better.

Lars- out!

20050614

Waking to yet another nightmare

Our electric service got disconnected today. I was going to sleep in, since I stayed up late with that dumb droid, but was instead awoken by a very miffed Beru. Now, I'm not really good in the mornings, and I especially don't want to awake to bad news, so I kind of chewed her head off. I probably shouldn't have, but oh, well. I immediately went to dad's room, since this is all his fault. He was still sleeping, so I shouted at him until he came out of his bacta-indused coma. Dad's a lot like me, and he didn't appreciate the wake up and the bad news, so we got into a huge argument. It was a real bad scene. The only levity of the situation came when he tried to kick me with his missing leg. Anyway, once we all calmed down, I asked dad why he didn't pay the power bill. He said something about getting a due date extention, but if that's true, why was Tatooine Power here as soon as the suns came up? But blaming eachother wouldn't help, we had an entire farm down and no moisture was being collected. So I asked dad how much money he had. He said none. Unbelievable! Where did the money go? I was so angry I could've broken something valuable! So we got into another huge shouting match. The baby was crying, Beru was screaming in the background, it was bad. After like an hour I realized this wasn't helping. So I did the only thing I knew to do. I hopped in the speeder and made the long voyage to Mos Espa to see if Watto could "float" me some credits until we sell our next load of water. Watto and I have been good friends since he sold Shmi to us, all those years back. I knew he'd help me out, which he did, but then he started talking about paying him back plus the vig! Some friend. I told him never to ask me for anything ever again! During the drive home, I contemplated the day's events, the migrane I had, and how much I hated Obi-wan. My mind kept going back to that electric bill. How could it have been so high last month? I even called Tatooine Power to find out, but all they do when you call is give you power saver tips, like I don't already know them. I'll tell you what it is, dad charges his blasted glider-chair every night. Some days when he sleeps all day, he leaves it plugged in. It's crazy. I'm gonna have to start turning the power off at night when I go to bed. He's just gonna have to charge the chair for a couple of hours during the day, that's it. Anyway, Tatooine Power took their sweet time coming back to turn the power on. They said there's a reconnection fee that we'll see on our next bill, which is due in like 10 days, I might add. Son of a...

Lars- out!

Blasted droids!

You won't EVEN believe this! I've been waiting all day for my R2 unit to return, counting the hours for a chance for it to escape undetected. After I finally concluded my day's harvest, there was still no sign of the infernal metal menace. So I grabbed my electrobinoculars and headed to the south ridge for a peek at Obi-wan's place. Hoping to see a sign of my droid returning, I was instead shocked to catch a glimpse at his mailbox, which until now was plain and unadorned. But to my complete chagrine, it now displayed a very prominant name plate on it's face. The shocking element was that the name on the box was clearly and distinctly labeled, "Ben Kenobi." Who the heck is BEN Kenobi? I know Obi-wan, but who's Ben? It didn't take me long to figure it out, given the fact that he's a wanted man. So he adopted an alias, is that it? And that's supposed to fool us? I don't think so, Ben! Well, anyway, that's the least of it. After waiting for that droid on pins and needles, he finally returned at 6:56 P.M. I wanted to punch the inanimate chunk of debris in the temple, but anatomically it seemed futile. After "conversing" with the crap pile, I discovered that it waited until Obi-wan left the house before it came back home with its information. The only good part was that the droid was sure to have about 12 hours of tape that I could sift through tonight. Seemingly endless footage of possible incriminating evidence against our warlock friend. I couldn't wait to replay the droid-cam. My mouth salivated at the very prospect. Or was I just hungry? No, it was the droid-cam thing. I could've used a small snack, though. So the holo-message starts, but only, there's no video. In fact, the view is obstructed DURING THE ENTIRE THING! It seems that my genius astromech droid, programmed to cover himself in camoflauge in Obi-wan's house, buried himself in a pile of old Jedi robes, but in the process also covered up the bloody camera lens! Unbelievable, ain't it? I was going to post a photo of what I saw in Obi-wan's house, but it would've been a blank bloody photo. That's what I stared at for hours, hoping the garment would slip and fall off R2, just so I could see something inside the cretin's lair. But no, I ended up with no video whatsoever. All I got was some very distorted audio. Those Jedi cloaks are frickin' thick. In some parts, I swear I heard Obi-wan humming a famous republic battle theme, but it may have just been him gargling, it's pretty unclear. I've spent the last 6 hours trying to find something of use here, but I'm about to give up. Dang it!!!!!! Droids suck. They're just not intelligent like we. Forget it! I'm going to bed. I'm so pissed.

Lars- out!

20050613

The last of the Jedi

What exactly happened with the Jedi? Being way out here in the Outer Rim, we don't always get the most accurate information about happenings in the galaxy. From what I was able to piece together from varied accounts was that the once-peaceful Jedi got greedy for power and tried to overthrow the republic. They attempted their coup during the chaos and confusion of the clone wars, but were thwarted in their plans to kill Supreme Chancellor Palpatine by the only good and loyal Jedi knight, my brother, Anakin. It seems the Jedi, led by a midget named Yoda, were caught with their hands in the cookie jar, so to speak. The republic then issued warrants for the arrest of all jedi. They're all being detained right now without bail. I've been hearing stories of Coruscant prison guards flushing Jedi books of wisdom down space toilets and making the Jedi prisoners walk around on all fours like banthas. That's too funny. The only two Jedi to escape were that Yoda guy and my infamous new neighbor, who's probably wanted for kidnapping as well. We're too far from the capitol to send a message, but when I meet a pilot who's going near Coruscant, I'm sending a message with him concerning the whereabouts of a certain local scofflaw named Obi-wan Kenobi. You know, I used to really admire the Jedi, I even applied for a job in the Jedi Council. After I met Anakin, when we found out Shmi was dead, I figured I had a way in. After all, it's not what you know, it's who you know. I figured it would be my lucky break. I remember how excited I was, dreaming of what it would be like living in the metropolis of Coruscant, with its many bars, fast speeders, and wild nightlife. I fantasized about going on exciting rescue missions in remote parts of the galaxy, swinging my laser sword to and fro, and doing awesome Jedi flips. I told Beru that our ship had finally come in, and to pack a bag. But word never came. At first I figured they just weren't hiring, but after about a year of nothing, I gave up hoping. I was very, very upset. But I'm over it now, in fact I'm happy they never hired me. I'd be sitting in prison with the rest of those traitors right now. Anyway, back to business. I'm still waiting on R2. I sent him over to Obi-wan's house last night after the murderer went to bed. You know it's funny, his lights go out at 9:00 sharp every night. I think if I brutally murdered my best friend I'd have a tough time sleeping, but that's me. Anyway, I removed R2's restraining bolt and programmed him to sneak into Obi-wan's abode, find a corner of the living room to hide in, and cover himself with newspapers or boxes or something. He should've begun recording at 7:00 this morning. When he gets back later we'll see what's what. I can't wait.

20050612

That baby

June 12-

That baby kept me up all night. He cries all the time. I had to go sleep near a noisy vaporator just to get some peace. Beru's not doing a very good job of keeping him quiet. I realize there's a learning curve for her here, being a new mother and all, but come on, it's been three days, already. The only reason I agreed to take in Anakin's child is so I'd have a future farmhand. But I'm thinking these first couple of years are gonna be tough. Oh, well, he'll pay for it later. I wanted to change his name to something tough like "Piston," but Beru won't have it, says we need to respect his mother's wishes and what-not. But we only know she named him Luke based on what Obi-wan said. How do we know he's not lying? He probably is. We don't even know how the mother died. Watto mentioned that Obi-wan most likely killed her. I wouldn't doubt it one bit. Probably cut off all of her limbs with his laser sword first. It's a miracle he didn't harm the baby. The savage. Anyway, last night we had some commotion here. I was getting dressed in my room, putting on a fresh new robe, when Beru walks in and asks me where I'm going. I reminded her that it was Saturday night, and that we always go to the cantina for "Salsa Saturday." She then had the nerve to tell me we can't hang out in bars anymore. I was dumbstruck! You know what her reason was? The baby! Apparently babies can't go to bars or something. So I called Shevo, he's the cantina bartender, and he said it's fine to bring babies, just not droids. So we went, but with much protest from Beru, I might add. When we got there we put Luke's car seat under our table for safety. All in all, it went fine, except for the occasional drink spilled on the baby's head, and once in a while being kicked by some alien's enlarged space boots. Some Rodian was staring at Beru so I called him outside. I was so furious I felt I would explode from the rage. But I'd had too much to drink, and my fighting style was sloppy. But I did smack him once in the antenna really hard. After that I got kicked out of the cantina for another incident, and Beru had to drive the landspeeder home. Dad was already crawling around on the grave when we got home. We just left him there. Anyway, that was yesterday. Today I got to collect about half a bucket of water, which should only take like 5 hours. After that I'm gonna send R2 out on his first "mission." I have to find a way to get the droid inside Obi-wan's house so he can record what's going on in there. I'll let you all know how it goes.

Lars- out!