Author: Mar'E Glim
Rating: G
Summary: Obi-Wan goes on a diplomatic mission to Strawberryland.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Star Wars Characters!
Archive: Umm, soon-to-be part of Glimmer Girl's Disc-O-Rama.  Anyone else
crazy enough to want it, please ask!
Feedback: Love it as long as you don't slam me!
JediGlim@aol.com

Note:  /.../ means thoughts.

******************************************************************************
*******************
A distinctly bright light poured in through the windows, a cheerful, dancing
light that danced through the windows, dancing its way into Obi-Wan's bleary
eyes.  Stretching contentedly, he pondered staying in bed a little longer. 
His master was not in their chambers, he had left while it was still dark to
attend the peace treaty workshop.  Qui-Gon always enjoyed the icebreakers at
the beginnings of those things. 

/I could just stay here, and claim I had been meditating, the sabre drills
can wait, right?/

As if to admonish Obi-Wan, the commlink sounded, jolting thoughts of a lazy
day right out of his mind.  Tripping over his boots and cloak on the way out
of the bedroom, Obi-Wan made his way over to the annoying piece of reality.

"Hello?  Master Yoda?"

"Still in bed, you are?  To the dark side, laziness leads, Padawan Kenobi.  A
short mission for you I have.  To the planet Glukos go.  A data pad with
information I send you.  Hmmm, starting the next group activity is.  Master
Windu calling is."

Staring at the empty commlink, Obi-Wan wondered if maybe those icebreakers
included something stronger to drink than tea.   However, he didn't have too
much time to ponder the effects of grapefruit juice and vodka on Yoda as the
door chime sounded and once again he was thrust back into the present.  He
padded over to the door, and ran his hands through his hair, attempting to
look presentable.

"Here you go, Padawan, your orders for the mission to Glukos.  You ought to
wear something more than drawstring pants, though.  You know, I believe
drawstring pants lead to the dark side …."

"Oh, but I just...nevermind.  Thank you Master Fozzie, I'll get right on it."

/Sith, how do I get into these things?/

The trip to Glukos was short, although not entertaining.  Obi-Wan went
alone--no need for a pilot on such a minor mission.  The datapad from Yoda
simply informed him that the inhabitants requested a Jedi to take care of a
minor dispute, and that even an assistant would do.   Something having to do
with pies, if he remembered correctly.

As Obi-Wan stepped out of the transport, his senses were bombarded.  He was
overwhelmed by the pinkness of the place.  It seemed like it even smelled and
tasted pink, like frosting.   All of a sudden, a dozen rather short, perky,
little humanoid type creatures were grasping his rode, chattering on and on
about the contest, and some Purple Pieman.  Confused for a moment, and
vaguely disturbed by the high ratio of beings with freckles, Obi-Wan thought
it best to take control of the situation.  But first he'd have to kneel down.

/I wonder if these little creatures are all this tiny, even smaller than
Yoda, and much cuter...I wonder if cuteness leads to the dark side?/

"Help us Obi-Wan Kenobi! The pie contest is almost over! You have to sit on
the judges' bench, or no one except the Purple Pieman will have a chance! And
we all baked a pie, even the Smurfs who live in the next village over!!!!"

A little girl with bright red hair smiled up at Obi-Wan.  From her nametag he
saw she was classed Strawberry Shortcake.  Maybe she was the one who
contacted the Jedi at Coruscant.

Dragged by all these little happy (or relatively, he'd never seen such
happiness amidst such crisis) beings, Obi-Wan made his way to the pie contest.

"Here we are, Padawan Kenobi!  Look, everyone, another judge for the contest!"

Amidst the cheering, Obi-Wan noticed that a huge banner was proclaiming the
7th annual Pie Contest, sponsored and judged by Purple China Star, Tm, "The
Premiere Chinese take-out service on Glukos."  He sighed; the table he was
supposed to sit at and judge a pie contest was rather small. 

/I have a bad feeling about this./

*******************
As Obi-Wan stood gazing at the rather minute judges' bench, one of the other
cute little humanoids rushed up to his escort.  The situation seemed to
demand privacy, and gods, Obi-Wan certainly learned some element of diplomacy
from all those missions with Qui-Gon.  He took a few steps back and let the
situation develop without interruption.

"Oh, Blueberry Muffin! Thank goodness you are here! Are your pies still
safe?" Strawberry Shortcake asked her bluish (but not bluish) little pal.

"My pies are fine, they are in their special pie cozies that I made last
night.  But, Strawberry, is that a Jedi? Is he really supposed to help us?" 
Blueberry asked, with a tinge of uncertainty in her ever sweet voice.

"Of course he'll help us, he has a lighsaber!"

Blueberry stood blinking at her friend, unsure what the effect of a
lightsaber would be on a blueberry pie.  Finally, she answered, "But just
look at him! He looks nothing like Yoda, how can he be a Jedi?  He's so, tall
…"

"Well, you are right, he doesn't exactly look like a Jedi, and he is tall,
but Yoda, we can trust him!  Remember, he did send us that subscription to
Martha Stewart Living last Christmas.  And your cottage does indeed look
better with those new accessories he sent you from Big K."

"True, and I do love macrame … But it just seems tallness leads to the dark
side, I mean, the only tall person we even know is the Purple Pieman."

"Jeepers! That's true, it does seem that short people are closer to the light
side … But I do think we can trust Padawan Kenobi, he was Yoda's choice, you
see.  Come on, let's get back to the pie contest!!!"

Obi-Wan spent a few minutes musing on how the bench would hold up underneath
him and quickly realised that an icicle had more of a chance in the seventh
sith hell.

/I could stand, yeah, stand and loom, how reassuring to these little people. 
Hmm, that's a LOT of pie.  More than twenty Republic credits' worth, indeed. 
Ouch!  Oh, sith, I knew I'd eventually walk into something!  Everything here
is so short.  I bet shortness leads to the dark side.  Heck, I bet the light
side eventually just leads to the dark side…/

"Padawan Kenobi?  Are you ok?"  Strawberry ran over to where Obi-Wan had
wandered, concerned for him and for her house.  She had recently been able to
acquire a stylish new living room set from House Lady Home Furnishings, and
having assistant Jedi knocking her house about was not the way to keep three
piece suites in good (MOOP, that is, mint out of package) condition.

"What? Oh, erm, yes, fine, fine, just, umm, admiring your village, and the
environs, yes…"

/So much for Jedi eloquence./

"Well, come on! Let's go take a look at all those yummerific pies! Oh, and be
careful, don't tread on any Smurfs, they wouldn't like that… OK, here you go,
take a seat by the Pieman here, he's tall just like you!"

/Tall? Is everyone here obsessed with height?  He's a sithly looking
character, well, he would be if his legs were a bit closer together.  That
can't be beneficial at all times…/

*********************************************************************
When we last saw our hero, he was in the midst of a heated pie contest (for
we all know that warm pie is much tastier than cold pie)…

/Man, my butt hurts, I knew this seat was going to be too small!  Gods, I'll
have arthritis before Qui-Gon at this rate …Oh, are we back already? /

"So, tell me, young Jedi, how fond are you of pie?"

Obi-Wan turned aside cautiously to face the Purple Pieman, for he knew that
if he turned completely he would either fall out of his seat or topple the
bench, table and its burden of pies.  The man sitting across from him
practically sneered the question and stared at Obi-Wan and twiddled his
moustache until the padawan answered.  And said padawan stared right on back,
for what else could he do?  Besides concentrate on the living force…

"We Jedi don't get much of a chance to eat desserts, they are rather a rarity
on Coruscant.  However, the few times that I have had the pleasure of pie for
dessert, I did rather like it.  Especially pun'kin, a traditional Harvest Day
treat, even my master likes it, although his own attempts at making it
usually fail."

Obi-Wan wistfully recalled the peaceful Harvest Day meal, and the nice big
table they ate it at…However, he also noticed that the Purple Pieman had long
since walked away, and that for the last few sentences he had been talking to
himself.

"Padawan Kenobi!!! Are you OK?"  Strawberry Shortcake examined her guest
carefully.  He looked a little odd, and he was just talking to himself...Must
be all that beige he wore, she thought.  She'd get him a pink ribbon for that
little braid of his, which ought to cheer him up.

"Oh, fine, fine, just channeling the Force, it gets, um, lonely if I don't do
that once in a while, you know."

So, not only does he need pink, he really needs to get out more, Strawberry
thought.  However, smiling brightly, she decided it was time to put the Jedi
to work.

"OK,  Padawan Kenobi, let's get the contest rolling! Now, all you have to do
is taste a little of all the pies, and then make sure everyone gets a prize!"

/Everyone?  Doesn't that defeat the purpose of the contest?  And how many
pies do I have to taste?   Good thing I don't have to walk home./

"Of course, Strawberry Shortcake, if that is all you require of me, I shall
do as you bid.  Yet, may I ask why the Pieman is not up to the task? He is,
after all, THE Pieman …"

"Because he threatened to take all the prizes and pies for himself!! Its just
so much more fun when EVERYBODY wins!!!"

So, dozens of pies were brought before our young Jedi knight in training, who
did his best to remember that this too was a lesson.  Prizes were given for
the sweetest pie, the biggest pie, the happiest pie, the flattest pie, the
most colorful pie, the most beautiful crust on a pie, and many other un-pie
like awards, like the award for the pie that was shaped most like a mushroom,
a prize claimed for the fifth year in a row by Vanity Smurf, who proudly wore
his ribbon, very impressed with the fine pastel hues.  Of course, it was a
little hard to find some place for the huge chicken pot pie made by Lady
Lovely Locks, but in the end she was content to take the prize for most main
course like pie and go home.

Finally, evening came and it was time for the little happy humanoids and
those blue things (Obi-Wan could never figure out what they were, but they
had some vocabulary handicap) to go off to sleep.  They bid farewell to the
kind Jedi who gave them all those nice prizes and wandered off each to his
own little home. 



Qui-Gon Jinn walked down the corridor to the living quarters he shared with
his apprentice that evening, feeling a bit tired from the day's activities,
but content with himself for actually staying the whole time and not sneaking
off for a beer with Mace Windu when Master Yoda was telling them all how he
singlehandedly levitated a cargoship carrying live Banthas.  He shuffled up
to the door, palmed it open and looked for Obi-Wan as he dumped his stuff
onto the table.  His padawan was on the couch, sleeping with a datapad next
to him.  Upon closer examination, he saw that the padawan's braid was tied
with a bright pink ribbon and the young man smelt of faintly of sugar. 
Confectioner's sugar, he decided.  What had that boy gotten into this time?

/Obi-Wan?  Can you wake up long enough to move off the couch?/

He brushed the padawan's mind lightly, just enough to get him up.

"Oh, hmm, Master."  Yawning, the younger man looked up at his Master, smiled
and then lay back down.  "Nope, I don't think I can get up.  I am dreadfully
full.   How was your day?  Did you do the ice breakers like you wanted?" 
Yawning again he settled himself more comfortably into the couch cushions.

"You are impossible, Obi-Wan.  Of course we did the ice-breakers.  I even got
a tee shirt and pencil for attending the workshop.  One would never think
that peace treaty negotiation could be so...fulfilling."

Looking over at the drowsy padawan, he got up off the couch to make tea.  One
just can't drink enough tea, especially if one doesn't want a hangover the
next day after all the, well, yes, ice breakers, shall we say.

"Master?"

"Padawan?"

"Can I have the tee shirt?"

"Fine, if you really want it.  I'm sure you'll look charming wearing a bright
turquoise tee shirt, and you'll match with Yoda on dress down days."

"Thank you!! And Master?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan?"

"Did you know that pies may very well be of the Dark side?"

END