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.


The Landa incident

I had my second blind date today. She wasn’t extremely hot, but she wasn’t horribly ugly, either, so I went out with her with the idea that once I found a hotter girl I’d drop her like a sack of breakfast metals. I agreed to meet her in the Mos Eisely town square at noon. I spied on her from a distance, and once I was satisfied that she wasn’t a nasty pig, I approached her. Her name was Landa.

Landa was pretty cool, I guess. Her uncle was a moisture farmer who died in a tragic farming accident several years ago. Right before that, Dad had helped him fix a moisture vaporator that was shorting out. The next day, that same vaporator shocked him to death. Dad’s no electrician. We spent hours talking about moisture, condensation, and the like. She really knew her stuff. The date was going really well, so I decided to take her home and show her the place.

When we first pulled up to the homestead, Carl greeted us. He had been outside working in the twin suns, and was shirtless and covered in sweat. His ripped muscles were accentuated from the light bouncing off his wet upper body. He looked like the cover of a racy men’s calendar. I prayed that Landa wouldn’t see him, but it was too late. Not only did she see him, but the tramp couldn’t stop staring at him. Angered, I told Carl to find something to do in the workshop, and directed the harlot inside the house.

While we were sitting on the couch, I used one of my famous Lars tricks; I pretended to stretch, and when I had finished, I cleverly landed my arm around her. First base! She seemed receptive to this, so I held her hand. Second base! Before I knew it, I was blowing in her ear really hard, and she didn’t fight it. Third base, we’re getting closer! Finally, I sucked up all my courage and began kissing her. Home run!!!!

We kissed for a long time, and all was going well, until Padme walked in, that is. Landa must have seen the deranged Padme clone-dog from the corner of her eye, because she began screaming like a banshee. I tried to explain that there was nothing to be afraid of, that Padme was nothing more than a weird-looking dog-thing, but that didn’t help calm her hysteria. I knew that the only device that could help me now was the truth.

I sat Landa down and explained to her that I always had the hots for my dead sister-in-law, so I hired a pilot to exhume her body and cut off her head in order to clone her, but in my haste to have a fully-grown Padme, I insisted on a risky growth-acceleration process that left her mutated and deformed. By the dreadful way Landa was staring at me, I immediately regretted using the truth. Disgusted, she got up to leave.

Unfortunately, Padme mistook this for aggression, and began to bite Landa’s ankle really hard. The screams could have woken the dead! I tried pulling Padme off of her, but it was useless. It was Carl who finally pulled them apart. Landa’s ankle was dripping in blood, so Carl decided to take her to the hospital. He asked for the keys to my speeder, but I told him that my insurance doesn’t allow for another driver. Without missing a beat, Carl picked Landa up and began running to the hospital. I hope he realizes that it’s fifty miles away.

It’s just before bed, and Carl still hasn’t returned. By the way, that insurance thing was a lie; everyone knows my insurance policy lapsed ages ago! I just didn’t want to waste the gas. I wonder if Landa will ever make out with me again. She probably will; I’m a great kisser.

Lars- out!


Blind date

I had my first blind date today. Her name was Canda, and I was supposed to pick her up at 3:00 P.M. The only problem I had was that she lived in a suburb near Mos Eisely, and I had no transportation to speak of. I contemplated this problem over a bowl of victory sausage. I read the paper while eating my breakfast, as usual, and stopped short at a very interesting ad for the local Goodwill. It seems that aside from clothing and household items, they also give away vehicles to the needy and destitute. That’s me!

I immediately gathered up my tax documents and headed to the local Goodwill office. They did, indeed, have several vehicles available, and after they perused my tax information and were satisfied that I was poor enough, they offered me a nifty little speeder for pennies on the credit. I was beside myself with excitement. They explained that the speeder was donated to charity by one Obi-Wan Kenobi. Oh, great! Now I’m using that murderer’s hand-me-downs!

I almost stopped the deal right there, but then the guy told me that Mr. Kenobi requested the speeder be given to someone truly needy, who would use it for good and noble purposes. Oh, really? I assume by good and noble he doesn’t mean driving it to the cantina and picking up women of questionable reputations. My buying this speeder would be the ultimate slap in his face! I explained to the salesperson that I needed the speeder to drive my paraplegic brother to physical therapy three times a week, and he was satisfied with this purpose. Wasted, Obi-Wan!

Rummaging through the glove compartment, I happened across Obi-Wan’s Jedi Temple security card. A lot of good that’s going to do him now, being a wanted man, and all. In fact, I think I heard that the Emperor converted the old Jedi Temple into a 24-hour fitness club for some of his high-ranking officers. Either way, I now had a speeder, and when I have the time, I’ll pimp it out to attract the ladies’ attention. For now, the only lady on my radar was Canda. Man, I hope that she’s hotter than Beru.

Not wanting to burden myself with bathing, I instead doused myself with cheap cologne. I grabbed the cleanest set of robes from the hamper and got dressed. Heading out to Canda’s house, I imagined that she was a knock-out beauty queen who would instantly fall in love with me. There was absolutely no reason to think it could go any other way!

I found her house and knocked on the door. A gorgeous blond greeted me, and my heart leapt in my chest. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Canda, but her younger sister, Brook. She invited me in and told me that Canda was on her way down. I was alive with anticipation. I mean, if Brook is her sister, then Canda must be hot, too. Right?

Wrong! When the beast descended the staircase, my first instinct was to run, and run fast. She was a fat Bantha, and her butt was so wide, I doubted it could squeeze into my speeder. Her face was a bit alarming, as well. No beauty, whatsoever, just fat, several chins, and sloppily-applied makeup. There was no way I was going to be seen in public with this space-cow. I delicately informed Canda that I was very displeased with her looks, and that she was fat piece of hog. This type of honesty didn’t go over very well. As Brook beat me mercilessly, I asked her if she’d like to go out with me, instead. She never did answer, so I’ll take that as a definite maybe.

Lars- out!


Dirty newspaper

I awoke early today and went straight to the toilet, as usual. I was in the middle of my morning constitution when I heard a loud knock at the front door. I looked around for the toilet paper, but was dismayed to discover that we were all out. With all of this business with Dad, Beru, and Watto, I had neglected to re-stock our supplies. In extreme cases of emergency, I sometimes wipe with old newspapers, but they were in the supply closet. The knocking grew louder. I would have to do something, and quick.

Holding my robes up in a bunch in front of me, I came out of the bathroom and waddled to the closet. On my way back to the bathroom, I was shocked to see several men peering at me through my mangled blinds. Oh, man, I hope they didn’t see anything. I quickly wiped with the newspapers and stuffed them in the toilet. I then ran to the door to answer it.

The Mos Eisley Police greeted me with their badges, and I let them in. They had been here every day this week, looking for evidence that could implicate Dad as the Jawa serial killer. They couldn’t find anything as of yet, but that didn’t stop them from looking. They would always ask stupid questions, like why Dad had such an extensive collection of knives and swords, and I would ask them if they had ever seen Dad’s toenails. Then they would nosily inquire about my mutant Padme dog. They would usually grill me with these kinds of questions as I inhaled a bag of puffed pork, but seeing they weren’t going anywhere, would leave in frustration.

This time they brought along a rather cute female cop. I decided this was an opportunity to turn on the “Lars charm.” As she rummaged through Dad’s sock drawer, I asked her if it hurt when she fell from the sky. Without letting me finish, she told me to piss off. I then asked her if she’d like to grab a bite to eat when she got off of work. Coldly, she told me she doesn’t date guys who have poopy newspaper stuck to the back of their robes. I turned red as a slaughtered Jawa!

I immediately ran to the bathroom. Sure enough, an entire section of the paper was stuck to me with #2 all over it. I peeled it off, and was surprised to find the personals section. Even though I crashed and burned, it felt good to flirt with the female cop. Maybe I need to start dating again. With my fingernails, I removed all the #2 from the paper. When I couldn’t get it all, I licked the rest off and spit it in the sink. I eagerly perused all the personal ads. I found at least fifteen good leads.

When the cops left, I jumped on the phone. I spoke to a bunch of chicks, and agreed to meet some of them. Owen Lars will finally be a stud again. This may be just what I needed. One of the girls I called was actually a guy, and that really pissed me off. I told him if I ever saw him in the street, I would punch him in the butt. He told me to promise. What a freak!

Lars- out!


The truth shines in

It’s just now that I’m over the initial shock of it all, and I can finally document the latest developments. Five days ago, as the newspaper article suggested, Dad, Beru, and Watto were arrested after the bloody shoot-out with police. The reporter who wrote the article took a few liberties in his rendition of the story, however. It seems that in his hurry to get this major story out, he didn’t fact-check, and what was initially reported was greatly embellished.

For example, although Beru did, indeed, get caught making out with Dad in the cantina, she never picked up a blaster rifle and never fired a shot. She was released after two days in the clink and turned over to her parents once the prosecuting attorney’s office realized they had nothing on her. I spent the last few days in Mos Eisely trying to sort through this mess, and was present when Beru was released. Because her parents were giving me dagger-eyes, we went off to the park to talk.

I asked the villainous woman why she was in Mos Eisely last Thursday and why she was making out with my father. Beru explained to me that she was on her way to my homestead to grab a few things she left behind when she moved away, and she stopped to get gas in Mos Eisely. She bumped into Watto and Dad as they were heading into the cantina. They offered her a drink, and she obliged. She stated that Dad must have put something in her drink while she was in the bathroom, because she soon began feeling and acting very strange.

Before she knew it, Dad was kissing her and Watto was making a home movie of it. When she finally snapped out of it, she was surrounded by bloody corpses. She cried as she told me the story. Before leaving, Beru made it quite clear that she didn’t want to have anything to do with me or my family ever again. I wasn’t sure, but I could almost swear she flipped me the bird as she drove away in her parent’s speeder.

As for Dad and Watto, the prosecutor seemed to have a pretty air-tight case against them. I got to visit with Dad for five minutes behind blaster-proof glass. I didn’t even know what to say to him. What a scumbag he is; trying to steal my old girlfriend! All Dad would say was that he desperately needed some death sticks, and that I needed to sneak them to him somehow. Yeah, right!

In a quest for the truth, I asked him point-blank if he was the Jawa serial killer, and he told me he wasn’t. I believed him. I spent a couple of days looking for a defense attorney, but one found me. Jase Vulcan, regarded as the shrewdest defense lawyer on Tatooine, sought me out and offered to represent Dad. It seems Mr. Vulcan loves the spotlight, and this case was by far the biggest thing to hit the news in the last twenty years. With his representation, I think Dad has half a chance.

Watto, on the other hand, has a court-appointed attorney who is fresh out of law school. He’s so screwed.

Lars- out!