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.

20051117

No butt cheeks...Who knew?

After the cops picked up all the pieces of Carl off the bathroom floor, the hunt for the killer was on. The police finally made an arrest yesterday. It seems our kindly old neighbor, Mrs. Southersby, was hiding her true nature from everyone. The filth found it odd that the nice old grandmother who attended our party couldn’t remember where she was at the time of the murder. No alibi. Open and shut case. And by the way, Granny, the old, “I lost my senility pills trick” just isn’t going to fly in the face of Tatooine justice.

With that out of the way, we could concentrate on our newest problem: Danto Starmonger. Apparently, he was partners with Carl and now claims that the business they started is his, and his alone. I asserted that because Carl was my property, his belongings are mine, but that SOB Judge Tempest saw it differently. He said that because I was in a coma for so long, I lost my legal rights to my slave, and he was thereby emancipated. Tempest always had it in for me because I appeared before him numerous times on DUI charges. I will, of course, appeal.

For the meantime, however, all of our income has stopped. I begged Dad to go look for a job, but he told me to go to hell. Because the enormous house is legally Beru’s, I convinced her to sell it, as we couldn’t even afford the electric bill. So we put the mansion up on the market and it sold right away. We even had a yard sale and sold all the furniture. Now we were rich, but homeless.

Dad suggested that we go back to moisture farming, since it’s all we knew. We shacked up in a hotel and perused the classifieds, hoping to find a great farm up for sale, but alas, there was none. It was hard to read with Beru and Luke crying and wailing for their lost kin, so Dad and I decided to move it to the cantina for a drink(s). It was the first time Dad had walked in there since he murdered all those people in there all those years ago. It seemed everyone had forgotten about it. All except Sheevo, the bartender, who still works there to this day (he wasn‘t working the day of the massacre). He kept giving Dad the death stare and Dad flipped him off. Later he spit in Dad’s drink before serving it to him. I didn’t tell Dad.

Dad got drunk and started confessing to me that he was the infamous Jawa serial killer, and that he killed Carl because he thought he was a Jawa. I didn’t know where all this nonsense was coming from. I told him to join us all in reality. He became angry when I didn’t believe me, and dragged me outside to the back alley. He grabbed the closest Jawa and proceeded to choke him to death. Then he turned him over, pulled up his robe, and began eating its buttocks. I was shocked! Jawas don’t have any butt cheeks! Just one big mass of black flesh without a crack. How do they poo?

After Dad finished consuming the creature’s backside, he asked me if I believed him, now. I told Dad that it was pretty sick to kill a Jawa just so I’d believe that he was the serial killer. He simply went too far this time. It just proves that he’s as immature as ever. Besides, everyone knows that Mrs. Southersby is the killer. I wish Dad would just grow up, once and for all.

Lars- out!

20051113

Costume ball of terror!

Sorry I have not kept you all apprised of my life for the past couple of weeks. First off, I’ve been enjoying my newfound fortune, living the highlife like I never had before. But I also had a technical reason why I couldn’t write, and that’s that my space-computer crashed on me. I had Carl take it down to the Geek Squad at Best Buy, Tatooine, and they said it would be ready in a couple of days. They were apparently lying, however, as I still haven’t gotten it back. It finally occurred to me yesterday that I’m now rich, so why not just go buy another space-computer? And so I did.

Dad and I have become quite comfortable in Beru and Carl’s house. Because of Dad’s handicap, he has an entire wing of the house all to himself, with a pretty young nurse to see to his every need. She quit after four days, and we’re currently interviewing for a replacement. Things are going pretty smoothly in the house, except that little Luke’s got quite a mouth on him. He likes to talk back to me occasionally, saying things like, “You’re not my REAL uncle; I don’t have to listen to you!” One of these days I’m going to backhand him right in the mouth!

Everything was cool in the house, for the most part, until I decided to throw an extravagant costume ball last night at my stately manor. I thought it would be a lot of fun; little did I know it would result in tragedy and bloodshed (I guess I should’ve, though). We invited about 600 of the Mos Eisely elite, and everyone arrived in stunning costumes. I decided to go as an Anchorhead moisture farmer; all I did was wear my old clothes. Beru dressed as Queen Amidala of Naboo, and I never wanted her more in my life. Luke dressed as the Emperor, whatever that’s about! Dad refused to dress up at all, claiming it was stupid and retarded. I told him that he was retarded, and we tussled on the ground for thirty-seven minutes.

All the guests were having a great time until Carl emerged from his bedroom dressed as a Jawa. We all laughed at the sight of the really tall Jawa, but for some reason, Dad clammed up, and his mouth began salivating. He must be getting sick. Later in the evening, Carl went to the bathroom and never returned. Beru went to check on him, and when she opened the bathroom door, she began screaming bloody murder. Carl’s body and been torn asunder, his various body parts strewn around the room and blood painted on almost every wall. His decapitated head was sticking out of the toilet. After this, none of the guests wanted to use the bathroom. In fact, this whole episode pretty much killed the party. I was so mad at whoever did this. I bet it was Luke, that deranged little psycho!

The police had to come and investigate, you know, just another Lars crime scene. They immediately wanted to question Dad, but I told them he didn’t feel well, and must have gone to bed early. They thought it was funny that during the ten years Dad was in prison, no Jawas were murdered, but once he’s released, this happens. I swear, the police are so stupid! Carl wasn’t a Jawa, duh! As the police began questioning all the guests, I surveyed the scene. Carl was now dead, Beru was in complete shock, and Luke was crying. I couldn’t help to think that I was the true victim here, as my party was totally ruined!

Lars- out!