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.


Mr. Whitesun; in the garage; with a shotgun

I finally escaped after an entire week. Malnourished and weak from all the brutality I endured, I knew if I didn’t leave the Tusken camp soon I would die. I got my chance early this morning when one of the Tusken broads came into my prison hut. She was seventeen months pregnant and about to give birth. She asked me if I had seen the village doctor, and I respectfully told her that I hadn’t; seeing as how I’m a tortured prisoner locked in a dark hut. She said that when she awoke with labor pains, everyone in the camp was gone; most likely on a hunting trip or antiquing.

I realized if I was going to escape, it had to be now. In my weak state, I stumbled for the door she had left open. She screamed for me to stop, saying that I had to help deliver her baby. I slowly turned and stared at the poor woman. She was crying (I think), and that made something stir in my heart. A strange voice inside of me told me that I knew what I had to do for this needy soul. In an act of total kindness, I socked the fat broad in the kisser, knocking her to the floor, and then repeatedly kicked her in the gut. It felt good to get even with these savages.

Making my way out of the hut, I immediately fell blind to the power of the twin Tatooine suns. I crawled through the burning sand in the direction farthest away from the screaming woman. Still weak, hungry, and broken, I crawled for hours, hoping I would bump into one of the houses in Beru’s neighborhood. That’s exactly what happened. I was fortunate enough that the homeowner was a doctor. Although I couldn’t see him, he sounded like a very nice man. He cleaned up my wounds, bathed me, and fed me. He gave me some prescription eye drops that would help me regain my sight.

I woke up later in a very comfortable bed and was astonished that I could see perfectly. It was obvious these people had money, judging by the room I was in. It was a kid’s room that contained more gadgets than my entire house! The name, “Greedo,” was painted in fancy letters on the wall. Wow, Greedo sure lives the good life.

I made my way downstairs to thank the doctor. They were in the middle of dinner, and as I approached the table, I almost went #2 in my undergarments! They were a family of Rodians! Filthy Rodians! The SOB put his filthy Rodian hands all over me when he nursed me back to health and never once said he was a Rodian! The rage of a thousand volcanoes erupted inside me, and I went off!

I called those filthy scumbags every name in the book, and even invented a few more. I cursed their family name and told them if I ever see their boy, Greedo, in public, I’d shoot him dead. Further, if I ever see him in the cantina, I’ll shoot him under the table, completely unprovoked, and no amount of special effects will be able to change that! The family was completely speechless, so I smashed a bunch of their furniture and left.

I walked several blocks to Beru’s house. When I got there, no one was home, or so I thought. I noticed that the garage door was slightly ajar, and since I’ve lost a bunch of weight this week, I was able to slip under the door. My intention was to get some shut-eye on the garage floor until Beru got home. I was startled when Mr. Whitesun raced into the garage via the house. He wielded a shotgun-blaster and pointed the barrels at my face.

I pleaded with him, telling him it was me, Owen, and that I was only there to tell Beru something important about Luke’s father. Mr. Whitesun, who never liked me, had a crazy look in his eye. Maybe he saw this as an opportunity to get rid of me once and for all. After all, I did break into his house, and he has every right to use deadly force to defend his…

My thought was interrupted when Mr. Whitesun squeezed the trigger. The shotgun blast caught me square in the face, sending pieces of bone and skin flying all over the garage. My body hit the ground violently, and when my heart stopped beating, I knew I was dead. Goodbye, puffed pork.

Lars- out!


A little bit of torture


Pronunciation: 'bE-ti[ng]
Function: noun
1 : an act of striking with repeated blows so as to injure or damage; also : the injury or damage thus inflicted


Inflected Form(s): beat; beat·en 'bE-t&n/; or beat; beat·ing
transitive senses
1 : to strike repeatedly: a : to hit repeatedly so as to inflict pain -- often used with up b : to walk on : Tread c : to strike directly against forcefully and repeatedly : dash against d : to flap or thrash at vigorously e : to strike at in order to rouse game; also : to range over in or as if in quest of game

These are the dictionary definitions, as I understand them, for what I’ve been experiencing since I was taken hostage by Tusken Raiders last Thursday. They escorted me in shackles to their village just outside of Mos Viggo and locked me in a hut. I haven’t had time to write since my capture because I was busy getting bashed, battered, belted, bludgeoned, buffeted, bung (up), clubbed, drubbed, flogged, hammered, hided, laced, lambasted, licked, mauled, pelted, pommeled, pounded, pummeled, thrashed, thumped, walloped, whaled, whipped, assailed, attacked, boxed, busted, caned, chopped, clobbered, clouted, cracked, cudgeled, cuffed, hit, horsewhipped, knocked, lashed, laid on, pasted, punched, slapped, smacked, smashed, socked, spanked, swatted, swiped, thwacked, whacked, gored, lacerated, wounded, maimed, mangled, and mutilated.

All in all, it’s been a bad few days. On top of all of that, from my small prison window I had a clear view of the neighborhood where the Whitesuns live. On Sunday I spotted Beru coming down her driveway to meet a man. I thought he was with the electric company, but when I saw them kissing passionately, I figured I was wrong. How the heck could Beru move on so fast?! What is she, some sort of floozy? Besides that, she’s not even that attractive; how did she find a man just like that? Or- maybe I find her even MORE attractive now. Hmmm-

Earlier today he was out there again, and they kissed as they greeted. I was starting to get sick of this crap. As soon as I get out of this prison I’m going to march right up to this clown and bravely hire somebody to beat him up really bad. Maybe I could convince one of the Raiders; they’re kind of good at it. Speaking of that, I got to go. They should be here any minute for my nightly torture. How I wish I was back in that bantha’s butt!

Lars- out!