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.


Jawa gumbo and new ink

I got home this morning via public transportation. Beru came running out of the homestead; frantically going off about how worried she was that I didn’t come home last night. I gave her a credit and told her to call someone who cares (I later took it back from her; credits don’t grow in the sand, after all). I went to my room and made plans for my new girlfriend’s arrival. I decided not to kick Beru to the curb until my Padme clone arrives, just in case. She won’t get a lot of notice to move out, but because I’m a good guy, I’ll give her a couple of hours to clear her stuff out. That’s how I am; considerate.

It occurred to me that the new Padme may want to raise Luke, as she’s his real mother. That will totally suck for me, but I’d probably allow it, anyway. As for Beru, she’ll just have to find another baby to raise, if she wants, that is. If not, I’ll take her to court and drag her and the Whitesuns’ names through the tabloid press. I’ll make sure they have all the good dirt on Beru: how she did #2 that one time, and how her breath sometimes smells in the morning. I’m sure the muckrakers would have a field day with the eye booger she had last May. If Beru wants a fight, she better realize what a dirty opponent I can be!

Dad made dinner tonight. He prepared a new meal, one he called, “Jawa gumbo.” At first, I was skeptical, due to its name, but I realized it couldn’t have been Jawa meat, and tried it. It was out of this world! After tasting it, it was obvious it was made with space-chicken. Dad groaned like an animal as he ate his portion. He really liked it! Beru got sick after dinner and threw up in the toilet. I told her not to flush, as it’s a waste of water.

Later, once she felt better, Beru decided to take the baby to the park. She asked me if I’d like to come along. I held up my first three fingers and told her to, “read between the lines”. Once she had left, I used the opportunity to examine the pain on my back. All day I’ve had this horrible pain, and couldn’t explain it. Looking at it in the mirror, I was shocked to find a fresh tattoo which simply read, “Naughty by nature”. What the heck? I must have gotten so drunk last night that I didn’t remember getting the tat. Oh, well, it looked pretty cool.

I immediately cut a hole in the back of my robes so that my new tat would show. Now when people see me, they’ll know who’s cool.

Lars- out!


It has begun!

I woke up at sunsrise and got ready for Watto to pick me up. I was so excited; I even took a shower to mark the occasion. In exchange for a ride to Mos Espa, I had to promise the little winged freak to treat him to a pod race in the afternoon. With the high price of fuel right now, I think I got the better end of the deal. He showed up as promised, and we headed off, Padme head in tote. I showed him the grotesque head a few times, pleased with how badly it scared him. Once we almost crashed when I threw it on his lap. Boy, did he freak out!

We drove straight to Kun La’s home. The cloner was doing a little gardening outside, and I immediately presented him with the head. He plucked a single strand of hair from the head, and told me to keep the rest. Great, what am I going to do with a severed human head? I chucked it haphazardly into the street just as a steamroller was driving past. The sound of the skull crushing was awesome.

Kun La led us into his basement workshop. He had obviously been busy, cloning everything from vegetables to pencils. He was even attempting to clone himself. I couldn’t even look at the freaky little zygote. He inserted the strand of hair into a glass sleeve and fed it into a machine. We went into his business office, and he accepted my down payment. After signing all the necessary waivers and paperwork, we were in business. I asked him when I could pick up my new girlfriend.

He told me to come back in nine years.

Um- EXCUSE ME? Nine years, are you crazy? He explained that with his growth enhancer, my Padme clone would be about eighteen years old in nine years, and that it would be unethical to turn her over to me any younger than that. None of this was explained to me before! I was about to grab the cloner’s skinny little neck and choke the life out of him when he proposed something else.

He said that he was working on a radical new super-growth enhancer, one that could give me an eighteen year old Padme in less than a week, but that it was highly experimental, and the results could be precarious. Apparently, experiments like these are what got our “mad scientist” banished from Kamino. I told him I didn’t care how unstable the experiment is; I want it done. Grudgingly, he agreed, but told me I would have to forfeit my warranty, and that it would cost more. I had to reach deep inside my robes and give him the money I was going to use at the pod race. But, oh well, it’s worth it.

We shook hands, and Kun La said he would call when my girlfriend reaches adulthood. Watto suggested we go straight to the stadium, as the race was about to start. I told him I no longer had any money. In anger, he punched me in the butt and left without me. I guess I’ll be staying in Mos Espa tonight. I wonder if there’s a cantina nearby.

Lars- out!


Death and mayhem

After almost two weeks, I finally heard from Gab Bacruk. The pilot who was supposed to be here last week with Padme’s head called me to tell me that he was on his way, and that his mission was successful. I almost soiled my undergarments in excitement. When he finally arrived, we ventured off to the privacy of my room to talk.

He imparted to me the most sordid and exciting tale. Apparently, he spent several days trying to locate Padme’s final resting place. He hung out in many of Naboo’s finer bars and public forums soliciting information. He said he met a strange Gungan named Jar Jar Binks who wouldn’t stop talking about the senator, and about the very sad funeral. The only problem was that Gab couldn’t understand a word he said, and Gab had to hang out with the strange beast for several days in order to discern his dialect. Once he cracked the language code, the Gungan led him to Padme’s grave.

Once he started digging, the creature went crazy, and tried to stop him. Jar Jar screamed so loudly that he was waking up the nearby residents, so Gab had no choice but to stab the dumb animal in the heart with his rusty shovel. Apparently, it took a long time for Jar Jar to die. He moaned in pain incessantly as Gab dug up the grave. After a while, Gab had enough, and grabbed hold of Jar Jar’s mouth. He pulled his mandibles apart until his jaw broke, and then cut out his tongue with dad’s saw. Unbelievably, the creature still wasn’t dead, so Gab finally sawed off his head.

Alone at last, Gab finished digging up the casket. He forced open the lid, revealing Padme’s corpse, and proceeded to saw off its head. He said the body was quite decomposed, due to the lack of embalmment, and the head separated easily from the body. After he accomplished his dastardly deed, he put Jar Jar’s body in the casket, and reburied it. He did, however, keep Jar Jar’s head for a souvenir.

Without further ado, Gab opened up the ominous container he was toting to reveal the head of my future girlfriend. I’ll admit that the sight wasn’t pretty. She looked like a giant raisin with hair. I asked Gab why her hair was filled with wilted flower petals, and he told me it was some kind of burial tradition. He also showed me his Jar Jar head, explaining that he was going to mount it over his fireplace.

After spending several hours picking the petals out of Padme’s hair, I couldn’t resist showing the severed head to the baby. Luke seemed scared of his mother’s face, and began crying. This attracted Beru’s attention, so I ran to my room so she wouldn’t know what I was up to. Tomorrow I’ll deliver the head to Kun La for cloning. My life seems to be right on track. But I guess I deserve that because I’m a good person.

Lars- out!


Tatooine Day

Today was Tatooine Day, a day set aside by the sand-hugging environmentalists to celebrate the beauty and majesty of Mother Tatooine. Give me a break. Usually I like to spend this day driving around and throwing un-biodegradable trash out of my speeder, but since I sold my speeder, I decided to simply scatter Styrofoam waste all over Obi-wan’s yard.

The loser spent most of the day at the Mos Eisley paper drive, collecting old newspapers for recycling purposes. He sat outside a tractor trailer in a chaste lounge, reminding everyone to “plant a tree.” What the heck is a tree? Wait until he gets home and sees the mess I made while he was gone. The look on his face will be precious. Owen wins, again!

Entering the kitchen, I discovered Beru washing out old cans and plastic milk jugs. At first, I thought she was doing it so I could have some extra snuff-spit receptacles, but was shocked to learn that they were donations for the recycling caravan. Mos Eisley County commissioned the Jawas to use their sand crawlers as temporary collection vehicles, and the Jawas were paid to drive to each residence and pick up glass, metal, aluminum, plastic, and paper. But I will be damned if this house is going to participate!

Angrily, I set all the plastic containers on fire. This seemed like a good idea at the time, but in practice left a lot to be desired. The fire quickly got out of control, and the fumes of the melted plastic forced us all outside. Dad was on the toilet at the time, and he had to vacate the bathroom mid-wipe. He still smelled of feces when he got outside, and I reminded him that he was nasty, vile old man.

The fire died down, but the smell was so bad we couldn’t go back inside. Just then, the recycling sand crawler rolled up on us. Two Jawas got out, asking if we had any donations. I told them to piss off. Strangely, dad began grunting like someone possessed while in the presence of the Jawas. He told them that he had some donations for them, and led them to his workshop. Dad’s such a traitor; giving in to the left like that!

We were able to re-enter the house after a couple of hours. Dad and the Jawas never returned from the workshop. Man, he must have a ton of donations! He emerged later, covered in ketchup. He said the Jawas sold him their sand crawler, and that I need to go dump it in a creek. Dumbfounded, two questions ran wild in my mind. #1: Where is he getting all this ketchup from, and #2: What’s a creek?

Lars- out!