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pronkerDear Diary, after yesterday's invasive ordeal, I am content to laze about. After all, don't I deserve it? I'll get bored, you say? Let that be a challenge.
Somehow it's afternoon. The cleaning droid's disinfectant odor has faded from this morning's spill on the tiles, the phlebotomist who, I suspect, has pointed teeth and hangs upside down in her quarters at night has come and gone, and now I find sport in cranking my bed into geometric patterns and Aurebesh characters. There, a push of this button to raise the head and then that one to raise the knees and I make this thing into a fairly decent Aurek. And there's the wastebasket, Diary, watch me wad these paper handkerchiefs and lob them across the room in this underhand shot! Life is full, don't you think so?
It's early evening and I'm running out of diversions, just like you said, Diary. I know, I'll ring for the healer on duty and make book on how long they take to arrive ---
"Hello there! Needing a good read, are ye?"
It's the news vendor! Kind of her to stop in, her not even being Jedi. I think her function is outsourced, but fortunately my Councilmember duties do not include supervision of such things.
"Yes, well. Um. Well, yes. Thank you. What do you have?"
She has wrinkles on top of her wrinkles, but her hands are steady as the Temple's foundation. She rummages in her bag, punches up the latest editions of the holonews on one padd, flicks to the latest vids on MyTube on another, and opens a link to thousands of picture puzzles and word puzzles on the third. I arrange them on the coverlet in front of me, their strobing flashes drawing me in.
"Got L'levalc's latest?"
"Oh, ye do go for the loquacious sort of prose, don't ye? Here ye be."
Even the padd seems heavy as she pushes it onto my lap. Yes, L'levalc's tome is just what I need. He's gotten me through other stays in this evil place. "I'll take all these, thank you very much." I don't even have to ask for what she is certain to add next.
Sure enough, she flops into the plastoid chair, allowing her bag of knowledge to drop heavily to the floor. "Number Sixteen 'ad another relapse last night, they got 'er under oxygen, it probably won't be long now." She scratches the side of her bulbous nose. "I see where the bed is empty in Twenty-Seven. I guess that means one less Galaxapolitan for this floor."
I consider these developments glumly when a sprightly new voice intrudes into my room. Diary, Senator Padmé Amidala can be my companion in an accident any time.
"Come in, Lance, set up the tray over next to the bed. Pietro, light the candles." An influx of smartly uniformed folk swarm about my bed and I share a puzzled glance with Newsvendor. She smiles, winks one eye the color of a blackcurrant at me, and excuses herself. Senator Amidala bows her out the door, and I can only guess at the gossip that the garrulous old lady passes along. But never mind.
"Senator -- "
"Padmé, please. I think when two people's vehicles get as intimate as ours did on Nicandra Boulevard equates to a first name basis, Master Jedi."
"Obi-Wan."
"Yes. Obi-Wan."
"What's all this? I smell terratta strips!" The two smiling young men retire to a far corner of the room, tuning up instruments before playing a soft accompaniment to the elegant meal.
"With glockaw sauce, your favorite, Anakin told me." She arranges herself on the hard seat. "Please, enjoy yourself. Everything's been checked out with the staff and you're safe to eat it. I wouldn't want to trigger any allergies. Anakin told me you have those, too."
The terratta strip is delicious. "Anakin talks too much."
"Sometimes." She is adept as I am at turning conversations into innocuous corners. "I'm so sorry about the accident --- "
"No need to apologize, Padmé. I am a law-abiding being, and when your vehicle tried to occupy the space my vehicle already occupied, I obeyed the law of gravity and kept right on going."
Her laugh is welcome, oh so welcome, in this place. But where are my manners? "Have some?" Diary, terratta strips are made to be eaten with fingers, so why am I feeling gauche dangling one before her parted pink lips?
"Mmmmmm. Tasty. No, just one, I've already eaten." Along with the string duet, she fills the room with Senatorial goings on, the latest trends in women's styles, the way that the fireworks display on Naboo for its Festival of Light emblazons the heavens, and by the end of the meal, I feel better than in days.
Dear Diary, my advice to anybody planning an accident is to have it with Amidala.
IOIOIOIOIO
TBC
Part Four here
Somehow it's afternoon. The cleaning droid's disinfectant odor has faded from this morning's spill on the tiles, the phlebotomist who, I suspect, has pointed teeth and hangs upside down in her quarters at night has come and gone, and now I find sport in cranking my bed into geometric patterns and Aurebesh characters. There, a push of this button to raise the head and then that one to raise the knees and I make this thing into a fairly decent Aurek. And there's the wastebasket, Diary, watch me wad these paper handkerchiefs and lob them across the room in this underhand shot! Life is full, don't you think so?
It's early evening and I'm running out of diversions, just like you said, Diary. I know, I'll ring for the healer on duty and make book on how long they take to arrive ---
"Hello there! Needing a good read, are ye?"
It's the news vendor! Kind of her to stop in, her not even being Jedi. I think her function is outsourced, but fortunately my Councilmember duties do not include supervision of such things.
"Yes, well. Um. Well, yes. Thank you. What do you have?"
She has wrinkles on top of her wrinkles, but her hands are steady as the Temple's foundation. She rummages in her bag, punches up the latest editions of the holonews on one padd, flicks to the latest vids on MyTube on another, and opens a link to thousands of picture puzzles and word puzzles on the third. I arrange them on the coverlet in front of me, their strobing flashes drawing me in.
"Got L'levalc's latest?"
"Oh, ye do go for the loquacious sort of prose, don't ye? Here ye be."
Even the padd seems heavy as she pushes it onto my lap. Yes, L'levalc's tome is just what I need. He's gotten me through other stays in this evil place. "I'll take all these, thank you very much." I don't even have to ask for what she is certain to add next.
Sure enough, she flops into the plastoid chair, allowing her bag of knowledge to drop heavily to the floor. "Number Sixteen 'ad another relapse last night, they got 'er under oxygen, it probably won't be long now." She scratches the side of her bulbous nose. "I see where the bed is empty in Twenty-Seven. I guess that means one less Galaxapolitan for this floor."
I consider these developments glumly when a sprightly new voice intrudes into my room. Diary, Senator Padmé Amidala can be my companion in an accident any time.
"Come in, Lance, set up the tray over next to the bed. Pietro, light the candles." An influx of smartly uniformed folk swarm about my bed and I share a puzzled glance with Newsvendor. She smiles, winks one eye the color of a blackcurrant at me, and excuses herself. Senator Amidala bows her out the door, and I can only guess at the gossip that the garrulous old lady passes along. But never mind.
"Senator -- "
"Padmé, please. I think when two people's vehicles get as intimate as ours did on Nicandra Boulevard equates to a first name basis, Master Jedi."
"Obi-Wan."
"Yes. Obi-Wan."
"What's all this? I smell terratta strips!" The two smiling young men retire to a far corner of the room, tuning up instruments before playing a soft accompaniment to the elegant meal.
"With glockaw sauce, your favorite, Anakin told me." She arranges herself on the hard seat. "Please, enjoy yourself. Everything's been checked out with the staff and you're safe to eat it. I wouldn't want to trigger any allergies. Anakin told me you have those, too."
The terratta strip is delicious. "Anakin talks too much."
"Sometimes." She is adept as I am at turning conversations into innocuous corners. "I'm so sorry about the accident --- "
"No need to apologize, Padmé. I am a law-abiding being, and when your vehicle tried to occupy the space my vehicle already occupied, I obeyed the law of gravity and kept right on going."
Her laugh is welcome, oh so welcome, in this place. But where are my manners? "Have some?" Diary, terratta strips are made to be eaten with fingers, so why am I feeling gauche dangling one before her parted pink lips?
"Mmmmmm. Tasty. No, just one, I've already eaten." Along with the string duet, she fills the room with Senatorial goings on, the latest trends in women's styles, the way that the fireworks display on Naboo for its Festival of Light emblazons the heavens, and by the end of the meal, I feel better than in days.
Dear Diary, my advice to anybody planning an accident is to have it with Amidala.
IOIOIOIOIO
TBC
Part Four here
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Date: 2014-11-04 03:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-04 04:41 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-11-08 05:26 am (UTC)Aww, Padme cheered him up where Anakin couldn't... I'm liking this story better all the time ;) And LOL law of gravity! Go Obi-Wan, you charmer!
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Date: 2014-11-08 05:34 am (UTC)re: Gnats pt 3
Date: 2014-12-23 09:39 am (UTC)