Life Lessons at the Sith Academy, Part II
by Siubhan
[Read Siubhan's author bio]

Disclaimer: Lucasfilms owns the boys, much to my dismay. What's been done to them is copyright 1999 by Siubhan. This cannot be archived anywhere without my express permission.

Thanks to Rachel, Andy, and Wolfine for the job suggestions.

"My young apprentice, now that you have a driver's license, the time has come for you to get a job. As you know, this is an unpaid apprenticeship, so if you want spending money, you'll have to earn it."

"It would be nice to have the money to complete my tattoo," Maul agreed. He really was looking forward to having the tattoo cover his whole body so he wouldn't look like a dork at the beach. "Where shall I apply?"

"I want you to take menial jobs at substandard wages," Sidious said with a sneer.

"But Master, I have skills! I could take a real job. Be a stockbroker! Use the Force to manipulate the stock market and make billions!"

"No, my young apprentice. I need you to work in the service industry so you can further hone your anger and hatred for a wide variety of beings. Here, I've already filled out an application for you at Burger King. You have an interview in an hour."


"Have you ever worked in food service before?"


"Good, you can start immediately. Here's your uniform, and don't forget to wear this horn net. We wouldn't want one of your horns popping off into the french fryer!"

Maul grumbled and headed for the men's room to change.


"Yeah, I'd like a cheeseburger, well done, and a chocolate shake to go."

Maul sneered across the counter and waved his hand. "You want fries with that."

"I want fries with that."

"And onion rings."

"And onion rings too."

"And a slice of apple pie."

"I don't know if I can eat all that."

"Give in to the Dark Side! Feed your hunger! Let your emotions rule you!"

"You make a damn good argument. Sure, add the apple pie."

"That'll be 6 Republic credits. Here you go."

"Hey, I wanted this well done!"


"Much better. Thanks!"

Maul merely muttered dark curses under his breath and went back to refill the shake machine. At a nearby table, Obi-Wan plopped down a tray full of food. "Here you are, Master Qui-Gon."

"I didn't order three Whoppers."

"The man at the counter was very persuasive."


Maul stood near the front of the Gap, folding the t-shirts into maddeningly complex patterns before putting them on the display. He was styling in his khakis and red and black striped crew shirt. Standing back to survey his handiwork, he smiled evilly. The only way to unfold these shirts would be to invoke the powers of the Dark Side.

"Nice job on the shirts, Maul," his manager said. "Hey, can you go back and watch the dressing room for ten minutes? Marla's on her break."

"Yes, my manager."

Maul took his responsibilities as dressing room guard very seriously. Within three minutes, he was already performing a body cavity search on someone who came out with only four items, but her tag said she had five. After the manager intervened, Maul settled back to wait out the rest of his shift.

A voice from the dressing room called out, "Can I get some advice?"

Maul snarled and walked in to the customer's cubicle.

Obi-Wan zipped up a pair of Gap jeans and asked, "How do these look on me?"

"They make your ass look fat," Maul replied.

"Fat? Me?"

"Maybe you should lay off the Whoppers."


"Yes, may I speak to Mister Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"This is he."

"Hello Mister Kenobi, my name is Darth Maul and I'm calling from American Express. We'd like to send you a credit card. All I need to do is confirm your current address."

"I don't need a credit card."

"We'll send it to you at no obligation. Your account will only be activated once you use the card. So, do you still reside at the Jedi Temple?"

"I told you, I don't need a credit card. The Jedi Temple pays all my expenses."

"I understand, Mister Kenobi, but what if you decided to take a fling on the Dark Side?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, dancing girls, whores, gambling. American Express will cover that, but the Jedi Temple won't."

"But I'd never..."

"Surely a young man like you has needs, Mister Kenobi. American Express can pay for them."

"Will it pay for dancing boys?"

"Most certainly!"

"Well, okay then."



"Ah finally. That was a long line," Qui-Gon said as he plopped his apprentice's paperwork down on the counter. "We'd like to take a driving test."

Maul looked down at the papers, then said, "That's the wrong form."

"You're kidding."

"We don't joke at the DMV. What you need to do is get in that line," Maul said, pointing at a fairly short line, "then fill out form 27B/6, then get at the end of that line there," Maul finished, pointing at a line that wrapped around the building three times.

"But I'll never be tested before you close!" Obi-Wan whined.

"I'm sorry, those are the rules," Maul said with an evil smile.

Qui-Gon looked him dead in the eye, waved his hand, and said, "That won't be necessary. This form will do."

Maul's expression grew dark and intense. "Are you trying to use the Jedi Mind Whammy on a Republic employee?"

"I would never dream..."

"Because as you know, using the Jedi Mind Whammy on a Republic employee is a crime that is punished by the full extent of Republic law."

"I didn't..."

"I would hate to have to call my supervisor."

"No trouble," Qui-Gon said, hands in the air in a conciliatory fashion. "I'll just get in that line and get the proper paperwork. Come, Obi-Wan."

"Have a nice day," Maul sneered.


Obi-Wan felt a tug on his sleeve as he walked through the mall.

"Excuse me, would you like a copy of Dianetics?" Darth Maul asked with a smile.

"Do you take American Express?"

"Why yes," Maul said with a glint in his eye.


Obi-Wan walked into Filene's with his nose buried in his copy of Dianetics. Suddenly, he was accosted by a burst of stinging scent. "What the...? This smells like wet whomp rat!"

"Polo for Men!" Maul said, holding up the bottle. "Only twenty Federation credits per bottle."


Tucking his copy of Dianetics into his satchel, Obi-Wan started to walk into Radio Shack to buy parts for his lightsaber. He'd dropped it in the tub again and it wouldn't start. But when he saw a strangely familiar red and black face standing behind the counter, he decided that maybe he could wait.


Okay, so he'd buy the parts at Sears. He wandered into the hardware department where he was promptly accosted by a salesman.

"Welcome to the Darker Side of Sears," Maul said, feral gleam in his eye. "Softer, more seductive it is, with power tools!"

"Um, do you have parts for a lightsaber?"

"Of course. Aisle seven."

"Do you take American Express?"

"Sorry, only Discover and the Sears card."



Well, there was no way around it. Obi-Wan wasn't getting parts for his lightsaber today. He went out to the front of the mall to catch the bus back to the Jedi Temple. If he hadn't gotten stuck in that horrible line at the DMV, he would have his license by now and would be able to drive himself. Damn Republic bureaucrats!

He got on the bus and the red and black tattooed driver snarled, "Exact change."

"But I only have a ten credit bill!"

"Exact change or get off the bus!"

"But the next bus doesn't come for three hours!"

"Not my problem."

"Look, just take the ten credit bill. Just take it."

Maul sneered at him, snatched the bill out of his hands, and jerked his head back, saying, "Sit down, kid."

Obi-Wan settled back in his seat and watched the buildings of Coruscant whiz by. They whizzed a little too quickly, actually. He looked up at the driver and watched him spew forth a steady stream of evil curses as he honked and wove his way through traffic like a madman.

Maul glared menacingly at the cars in his path. They were opponents...enemies. He had to vanquish them at all costs, and this bus gave him the mass to do it with style. Running a red light, he chortled in glee as he watched two cars smash into each other in his wake. With a vicious sideswipe, he knocked three cars out of his lane and into a nearby building. Ah yes, this was much better. Cars parted ahead of him, acknowledging the superiority of his Sith ways. This was good. Very good. As it should be.

Obi-Wan let loose a relieved sigh as he realized his stop was coming up and he could finally get off this crazy ride. He rang the bell and walked to the front of the bus.

Maul whizzed right by his stop.

"Hey, why didn't you stop?"

"Should'a rung the bell."

"But I did!"

"I didn't hear it."

"Fine, then let me off at the next stop."

"This is an express bus. The next stop's in an hour."



"You have done well, my apprentice."

"Thank you, my Master."

"Yes, I have a very thick stack of letters of complaint lodged against you from each of your jobs. Excellent work, indeed."

"It was a pleasure, my Master."

"And I'm glad to see you managed to complete your body tattoo with the money."

"As am I, although now I'm broke again."

"No matter. It is time for you to move on to a higher paying job now. One that will require ruthlessness, cruelty, and the utmost depths of evil."

"I am ready, my Master," Maul replied.


"Excuse me, but I think there's been some mistake," Obi-Wan said as he walked into the massive office and looked with trepidation at the back of the large leather chair.

"No, Mister Kenobi, there's been no mistake. Have a seat."

Obi-Wan settled nervously in the uncomfortable chair set out for him. "No, I really think there's been a mistake, Mister...?"

The chair turned around, and the black pin-striped suited occupant smiled and said, "Maul. Mister Maul. I need to talk to you about certain irregularities in your taxes over the past thirty four years."

"But I'm only twenty three, and I've never earned an income in all my life!" Obi-Wan cried indignantly.

"That is no concern to the IRS. Now, let us begin."



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