Kenobinator to the Rescue

I was mindin his own business today when, thanks to my super-hearing ability, a cry of distress was heard. Someone was in trouble, an it was up to none other than the Kenobinator to solve the problem! I fled to the scene where the crime was takin' place.



"Harvey! And Freakface! What y'all doin with them sabers?"

"It's Jempa, sir." Freakface said, "And he stole my-"

"Nuh-uh, it's mine! I bought it myself!"

"Oh yeah, Harvturd?"

"Yeah, Freakface! It's mine!"

I stepped in again. "I saw an argument like this on TV once." They stopped. "These ladies were fightin over a baby, I think. So they go to a guy who goes 'why don't you cut it in half so both'yall get a piece?' Both'a you got lightsabers, so-"

"No!" They cried out in unison.

"That'll ruin it!" Jempa cried.

"Yeah, you crazy bum." Harvey agreed.

"How 'bout you play 'Eeny meeny miney mo?'"

"That's not fair!" Harvey protested, "It's mine, and I'm not losing it to some stupid game."

"You can't lose it 'cause it was never yours in the first place!"

"Well what 'zaclly are you arguin over?" I shouted over them. They both pointed to a shelf.



"And both 'yall are sayin you had one?" They nodded. "Oh that's right. I saw Mace on his way to the shower with some rubber ducky he'd founded lyin somewheres."

Without sayin another word, the both a them put back their sabers an' dashed upstairs. I done somethin right. The Kenobinator always does.

The answer to all the riddles OR Cheetoland

I ain't no detective, but I'm startin to see who these clues are pointin' at. I found the third clue on a rug Barriss keeps at her door.




















Cheetos... beer... and spotted fur.

There's only one guy who this could belong to. The Cheetos feller with the sunglasses!

I got a big ol poster of him hangin on the wall of my room. I ran to it right aways an stood in fronta it. I closed my eyes and thought bout it real hard, like reachin into the Force, but to the Cheetos side.

I swung my body back an forth, while swingin my arms the opposite way like those things on a grandfather clock. I could feel the Force, pullin me in. The words "doo dee doo, we can too" escaped my mouth right before my head started spinnin' wildly.

When I opened my eyes, it felt like I done fallded off a jungle gym. The firs thing I saw was orange. An right in fronta me was...



"Hey man! Ya found me!"

"Yessir, Mr... uh..."

"Chester Cheetah, just call me Chester."

"Chester. I was lookin fer Mace’s scalp-wax, you see-"

In his hands was the bottle of Mace's wax I'd been lookin for all along. "I see you've found mah clues, cat. That's knarly... to the MAX. Say, before ya go, how's about chillin with me?"

"Okay, I guess."

We sat back on his neon purple inflatable chairs and he tossed me a beer. We discussed some mighty deep stuff. Finally, I glanced at my Mighty Morphin Power Rangers watch. The fat, short hand was getting mighty close to "11," which meant lunchtime was just 'round the corner. I got up.

"Dangit, I should be goin now."

"Sure thang, tiger."

"You'll still be here when I come back... won't you?"

"No matta where you at, I'll be right here in your heart, dig?"

I nodded. In fronta us was a big painting of my room. I concentrated.

"One thang b'fore ya go," he started - Iw's beginnin to fade, but I heard him just the same: "You dangerrously cheesay."

The Second Clue

I got out my dry-erase marker (they won’t allow me no crayons) an drew a picture of the bag of Cheetos in my handy dandy notebook. I went on lookin. There hadta be more clues to who stoleded Mace’s scalpin’ wax. I looked under his pillow, inside his perty pink lampshade, behind his bookshelf, even behind every single one’o his books. Nothin.

I could hear Harvey in another room down the hall, shoutin, “I swear, I didn’t take your stupid scalp glue!” Tsk, tsk, tsk, that Mace Windu, pickin on the young’ns like the way Anni picks his nose.

“Quit scarin’ the young’ns, Mace!” I shouted at him, “Else, one’a them days they’ll start a little peoples’ revolution!”

“I know what I’m doing! You gonna help me or not?” I heard him yell back.

“You’re a wussy!”

“Shut up and help me find it, man!”

“I know you are but what am I?”

“Keep looking!”

“I know you are but what am I?”

Silence

“Yes! I win!” I told myself. It’s important not to say it out loud when you win, else the other guy starts yellin again. When that happens, no one wins, and you gotta keep yellin ‘till they stop again. That’s what’s called a trick. No one beats the Kenobinator at screamin wars. But all that yellin was makin my throat go dry. So I went down to the secret cellar to get me some booze.











Gawshdangit, it’s the second clue!

The Mystrey of the Missin Wax

I was stickin Cheetos in my beard when Mace walked in, huffin and puffin like the big bad wolf.

"Obi-Wan! Did you steal my scalping wax?"

"Pshaw. Why'd I want yer stupid products in the firs' place?"

Which is true. It looks like coconut jelly, smells like coconut jelly, but it ain't coconut jelly. It don't taste good at all.

"Well someone better find it, before I start growin stubble. Think you can help me, brotha?"

"Sure thang."

He left, prob'ly knockin on more doors, botherin people while they're doin their own businesses. I got out mah magnifyin' glass an started lookin fer clues.

The firs' one I found was in Mace's room, around where the crime took place.


















What would a bag of Cheetos be doin' on Mace's bed?

The Liberrian

"Put those books back where they belong!" She yelled at me.

"Ma'am, please. I'm goin on a very important mission here. Someone could be dead."

Her eyes sud'nly widened. "What location are you searching for?"

"TV Land. Ever herduv it?" She looked puzzled.

"No, I don't believe I have. Is this 'Teevyland' a real place?"

"Ayuh. I gotta go find muh friend there."

"And is this place of yours... imaginary... by any chance?"

"I sure wish it was, but it ain't. The Chosen One tole me."

"Oh. Well I can try searching through the archives. Tell me more about this place."

"Well, it's got campgrounds, a jail, a big ole cannon, ana baskittball team.

"Is that all?"

"Ma'am, this is a matter b'tween life an death. Quickly, we migh'nt got much time!"

She led me to a big blue machiney thing and turned it on. She did some kinda wierd gobbledegook on it where she pressed some colorful buttons and switches and it started flashin' lights. Perty soon there was pitchers showin up an everythin. After a few minits, she stopped.

"I'm sorry Mister, but there doesn't seem to be anything in the archives about or referring to 'Teevyland.'"

"Well that's very strange. You sure the archives ain't wrong?"

"I'm confident our archives are very accurate and up-to-date." She eyed me suspicurously. "Are you suggesting there's a problem with them?"

"Well there's got to be. My friend lives in this place."

"You know, Mr. . . ."

"Worrel. Muh name's Mr. Worrel." I tole her. I still dunno why I gave her that name instead'a my own.

"Mr. Worrel, a lot of padawans come in here and like to play jokes on the staff here. They lead us on wild goose-chases then walk away laughing."

"Why, that's horrable!"

"Yes, it is. And I certainly wouldn't like being played a joke on right now."

"Me neither, Missus. That don't sound very fun."

"No it wouldn't. So tell me. Who is this friend of yours?"

I thought fer a minute. "Ernest P. Worrell"

She smiled meanly, but also like she figgered out where this TV Land was. "So he's related to you?"

"Naw, Ma'am. I dunno what you're talkin bout, but we are not relations."

"Have you seen him on television?"

"Tell a... whuwhu?"

"Television? You know, TV?"

"Oh. Oh yeah! I sees him all the time! An Rocky an Mister Bean an Elvis live there too. You know where it is now?"

"Yes. Yes I do."

She took me to the door and pushed me out. She then closed the door in fronta my face and went away somewheres.

"Hello?" I shouted through the crack. "Think you can show me wheri'tis?"

No answer.

"Perty please?"

Silence.

"Perty please with a cherry on top?"

I waited but she didn't come. It musta been an hour when I gave up an left. If I see Mace, I'm tellin him exactly that this libarry place of his sucks. It's nothin but a big waste-a time. At this rate, I'll never find poor Ernest.