Life Lessons at the Sith Academy, Part XXIII
by Siubhan
siubhan@siubhan.com
[Read Siubhan's author bio]

Blame Milk and Cheese and lack of feedback on my latest serious story for this one.

"Maul! Turn off that video ga... That's not a video game."

"Er, no, Master."

"I do believe that would be the PowerPuff Girls."

Maul squirmed. "I only watch because Buttercup kicks ass."

"I myself am a Bubbles fan," Sidious said as he gingerly settled on the sofa next to Maul.

"I keep waiting for Buttercup to rise up and slay Blossom," Maul grumbled. "She'd be a way better leader."

"Yes, well, when the Sith rule the galaxy, I'll be sure to commission that episode for you. Oh look! It's 'Him'! I adore 'Him'!"

"I'm partial to Mojo Jojo myself."

"How about Princess?"

"Nope, Rowdy Ruff Boys."

Master and apprentice spent the remainder of the half hour enjoying the PowerPuff Girls before the horror that was Johnny Bravo came on and forced them to turn off the television. "Well, it's been swell, Master," Maul said as he ushered Sidious to the door.

"Yes, we must do this again some...wait a minute. I came here for a reason, Maul."

Damn! "Yes, my Master. What is thy bidding?"

"It's the Jedi again, Maul. They've gotten the damned fool idea in their heads that they should host nonviolent rugby tournaments."

Maul blinked. "Nonviolent rugby? Isn't that an oxymoron?"

"I know. It's an abomination to the sport, and I want you to stop it. Their exhibition game is tomorrow night. Make sure it doesn't happen. Think of this as an opportunity to practice your cursing."

"I curse all the fucking time."

"No you ninny, I mean cursing. Like 'a pox upon your firstborn.' Think Biblical." At Maul's blank stare, he sighed, "You do remember Hebrew School and the Torah, yes?"

"Oh! Cursing! Got it. No problem."

"Ta!"

"Whatever."

As the door closed behind Sidious, Maul wondered just what the hell it was that prompted him to even give a rat's ass about rugby in the first place.

And then his door was kicked in.

"I cannot fucking believe it!!!" Obi-Wan fumed, clad in a dirty rugby uniform.

Bingo, Maul thought. Muddy grappling padawans.

"Nonviolent rugby! Nonviolent rugby?!? Shite, you might as well play fucking tiddlywinks!!" Grabbing Maul roughly by the forearms, Obi-Wan frothed, "Violence is what rugby's all about!!!"

Ooooh, baby! Maul thought as the felt the drool building up in his mouth.

"Rugby's all that keeps me sane!!!!!!" Obi-Wan howled, shaking Maul so hard that all the furniture in the living room bounced. "They're gonna make me play in a fucking exhibition game. A fucking exhibition game! And do you know what the name of my team is going to be?"

Maul shook his head helplessly. The anger rolling off Obi-Wan was so intoxicating that he'd lost the ability to string together coherent thoughts, never mind speak.

"THE PEACENIK PADAWANS!!!!!!!!" Car alarms started going off in the garage.

Oooooooooooh baby! The drool spilled over onto Maul's bare feet.

Obi-Wan was oblivious, consumed as he was by his own rage, but then blinked and shook his head as a small plastic ball rolled across his feet. "Fluffi-Wan?" he said, picking up the hamster ball. "How the hell did you get out of your cage and in there?"

Maul turned and glared at My Apprentice. When are you going to eat that fucking rodent?

I'm trying! I'm trying! she seethed back.

Obi-Wan cradled the hamster ball to his chest, looking fairly dazed. "Anyhow," he calmly continued, "if I don't participate, I'll get a failing grade in phys ed. So I guess metaphorically speaking, I'm fucked."

"Put the hamster down and we can make it literal," Maul purred.

"Hunh? Oh, yeah, let me just go put him back in the habitrail."

"Excellent. But first, why don't you tell me all the details of tomorrow's game..."

***

The next morning, Maul woke up with a smile and looked down at Obi-Wan's gently snoring body. Stage one complete. Pulled groin muscle for star player. Right, time for stage two.

***

A precaffeinated Maul adjusted his shit-brown cap to cover his horns, tugged down on his ill-fitting shit-brown shorts, and strode in to the uniform shop. "OOPS, here to pick up the rugby uniforms for the Jedi Temple," he growled.

The balding fat guy in the too-small tank top scratched his bare belly and said, "Yeah, I got da Peacenik Padawans all set, but the Nice Knights ain't done yet."

"I'll take what you have," Maul grinned.

Once all the boxes were in the OOPS hovercar, Maul turned and said, "Oh yeah, hang on a second. Ahem." He drew himself up to his full height and pointed dramatically. "A plague upon your cattle! May your fields lie fallow and your streams run dry!"

The balding fat guy shrugged. "Yeah, whatevah."

Plop! Maul looked down at the ground next to his shit-brown sneakers at the large green frog which appeared to have fallen out of the sky. Hmmmm.

***

After dumping the uniforms in the abandoned Old Coruscant Zoo in sublevel six, Maul ditched the OOPS uniform, made a quick pit stop at Kinky's Copy Shop, then headed for the Jedi Temple Stadium. Time for the remaining mayhem.

First, he made a beeline to the coaches' area and replaced the new violence-free rugby rules with mimeographed copies of the Jedi Tomb Raider instruction booklet. Knowing the Jedi, they were going to wait until the last second to actually read the fucking manual. Flushing the rulebooks down the coaches' toilet, he raised his arms and incanted, "May your jock straps chafe and your athlete's foot be fruitful and multiply!"

Plop! Plop!

He looked down in puzzlement at the two bullfrogs at his feet, then up at the ceiling. Hmm. That was odd. Maul shrugged, then headed for the band room. He snatched up all the copies of the Jedi Temple Fight Song and replaced it with the sheet music for "Smells Like Teen Spirit." After ripping the Jedi sheet music into confetti, he pointed his finger and bellowed, "May your spit valves clog and your percussionists be stricken with carpal tunnel syndrome!"

Plop! Plop! Plopplopplop!

Maul stared in amazement at the frogs overflowing from one of the sousaphones in the corner. He was starting to sense a pattern.

Next stop, the Nice Knight's locker room. Aha, there was the keg of GatorGrog. Maul reached into his pocket, pulled out the vial of speed, and spiked the keg. Heh heh. Let's see them be try to be nonviolent with that much amphetamines coursing through their veins! Then he went into the lockers and snipped the cleats off of each and every pair of shoes. Cackling to himself, he started to head back out, but then shook his head, turned around, raised his arms above his head and howled, "May your eyeballs spin in their sockets and, uh, your shins cramp painfully!"

Ploppety plop plop! Kerplop! Plopplop!

By this point, Maul was no longer surprised.

After repeating his cleat-snipping in the Peacenik Padawans' dressing room, Maul wandered down to the control room below the field. "Rugby, baseball, badminton, curling, nude lacrosse, Republic Wrestling Federation, monster trucks...aha! Hockey!" Maul flipped the giant switch labeled, "Warning! Retract astroturf before activating." Ignoring the klaxons, Maul trotted back up the stairs and grinned evilly at the now icy slick playing field. Putting his hands on his hips and proudly puffing his chest out, he roared, "May your...um...yaks lie down with your Ewoks and...er...squash them!"

He didn't even stay to count how many frogs appeared at that.

On his way out of the stadium, he ran into the arriving referees, grinned congenially, and said, "As the official representative of the Jedi Nonviolent Sporting Committee, let me buy you men a drink! Have any of you tried the Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster?"

***

"Maul," Sidious groused from the stands. "Despite all your fine efforts, the game appears to be going on. Mind you, I do like the fact that it's become a game of shirts vs. skins. And thank you for letting the skins be the padawans. However, you did fail me, so there is the matter of punishment to attend to..."

"Wait, Master! I have not failed you."

"Maul, the marching band is about to slide off the field, the players are about to slide on to it despite the fact that the Nice Knights are so hopped up that they're practically vibrating out of their skin, and Yoda has taken over as referee since the official referees are too drunk to stand. True, it is fun watching the coaches arguing over which team is supposed to field Darth Lara Croft, but since she doesn't actually exist, what more is there for you to do?"

Maul grinned as the players skidded cleatlessly across the slowly-thawing field, then as Yoda raised the whistle to his lips, he stood up, arms outstretched, and bellowed, "A PLAGUE OF FROGS RAIN DOWN UPON THEE!!!"

And lo, it was so.

Sidious sat open-mouthed for a long moment before retrieving a parasol from the depths of his senatorial robe and popping it open. Frogs bounced harmlessly off of it as he turned to Maul and asked, "Frogs?"

Maul, wearing his best shit-eating grin and a couple of frogs, said, "Yep. Frogs."

"Why frogs?"

"They're Biblical, aren't they?"

"Well, yes, I suppose, but...couldn't you have picked something more effective and violent like locusts or asps?"

"Sorry, Master. I just got frogs."

"How did you figure this new 'talent' out?"

Maul shrugged. "It just came to me."

"I cannot believe this. Frogs. How un-Sithly."

"But look! It worked!" Maul protested as he gestured to the field.

"Hmm, yes, they have stopped the game since the field is now too frog-infested to actually play."

"And Yoda is hip-deep in them."

"He's also smiling. I don't think he's wearing any pants under his robes."

"And look, Qui-Gon is licking them."

Sidious chuckled. "Oh my, I suppose the charitable thing would be to tell him that licking toads is what gets you high, not frogs. And your boyfriend looks rather pissed."

"He's not my boyfriend...oooh, yeah." Maul sat back glassy-eyed, absorbing the anger buzz.

"Frogs," Sidious groused. "Why not a rain of yaks? Yaks are Biblical. Aren't they?"

Obi-Wan limped into the stands, practically frothing at the mouth. "Frogs!!! Fucking frogs!!!"

"You're welcome," Maul drooled.

"Well, at least you didn't have to corrupt the sport of rugby, my dear son," Sidious beamed.

"Yeah, that's something, I suppose," Obi-Wan groused, plucking a frog out of his shorts. "Gah, it's fucking Biblical out there!"

Maul turned to Sidious and crossed his arms.

"Oh fine," Sidious sighed dramatically. "You win this one. Go boys, get out of this frog-infested hellhole! Have fun! Be young! I'm just going to go see if any of the other padawans need comforting."

"Biblical, eh?" Maul grinned as he grabbed Obi-Wan by the wrist and dragged him out of the stadium. "So how about I turn your rod into an asp?"

"What?"

"Wait, no, your asp into a rod..."

"What the hell are you talking about, Maul?"

"Wanna fuck?"

"Oh! Yeah!"

END

(5/17/00)

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