In the fallout from the Lucasian frenzies unleashed recently by Attack of the Clones, there was a most accurate observation made by a Darthophile in Arizona, who said, “George could show us a film of Obi Wan Kenobi mowing his lawn, and we’d pay to see it.”
Hey! Might be a good opener for the next flick. We see Mace Windu (Sam Jackson’s Jedi) pulling up in some space age hover-hog to Anakin Skywalker’s place. Immediately, a grim look appears on Mace’s face, and we see why. Anakin’s yard is fraught with shab; the lawn is all shaggy and there are big weeds taking over the beds of sacred Quogasethium bushes. Mace is troubled.
He approaches the door and walks in. Jedis never have to knock when visiting a brother. Immediately, Mace spots more trouble. In the kitchen sink are big stacks of beautiful Zangtupulan plates, encrusted with the stale remains of Urantian pizza and half-eaten Glorvang chips. Next to the sink, the countertop is filled with empty bottles of Blatz. This is not good. The fastest way to the dark side is the dreaded Voho Lingaboo Juzar (The Path of the Sloppy Juicer), and Mace can now feel that the dark side is faintly present.
“Anakin? Are you here?” The reply is a low moan coming from the den, where Anakin is lying on the Condoleeza hover-couch. Anakin raises his head. “Hey Mace,” he says weakly. “What’s goin’ on?”
“I wanted to check on you, Anakin. I sensed you were in distress, that you are in conflict with the Force. Would you like to talk?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, Mace. Let’s talk. What’s wrong?”
“Your lawn, for one thing. It is unruly in a way that reveals troubling internal bogosity. It needs to be rectified, and quickly.”
“The curses of Tambibblesnip upon the lawn! I don’t want to ever mow the lawn again! I hate the lawn! May it rot in the icy caves of Tralfamadore!”
This violent outburst stuns Mace, but he presses on. “Anakin,” he says slowly and clearly, “your lawn needs to be mowed.”
“Great buckets of beetle juice, Mace! Yard work sucks! Do you hear me?! I’m done doing yard work … forever!”
Mace responds softly, but firmly. “Anakin, your lawn needs to be mowed.” Pause. “Now.” The young Jedi, realizing his power is no match for Mace’s, petulantly heads for the garage.
And as he trims his lawn, Anakin seethes with a furious hatred, a hatred that convinces him, once and for all, to embrace the dark side of the Force. “I shall blow up whole planets with my Death Star and have light saber fights with my own children just to quell my rage,” vows the young and somewhat woozy Jedi. “I will do so in the name of Voho Lingaboo Juzar!”
Meanwhile, a concerned Mace thinks to himself while he rinses the filthy dishes, “I TOLD Yoda not to let this punk in the club!”