write a note-compartment item 1 - enter title manually 0 - skip // 1 // SUBMIT DATA // The Sarlacc Should Eat Itself and Choke! // SUBMIT DATA assign a number to the note-compartment item? 1 - enter number manually 0 assign number automatically // 0 // SUBMIT DATA enter text On the third day of her visit, Aunt Lumia aka SARLACC OF XYQUINE got sick. And she blamed us for it and said that the lunch at Old Berrsia was a deliberate plan to poison her and ruin her vacation. WHAT. WHAT. JUST WHAT. She said that I was immature for suggesting a popular restaurant in the first place and that they should cook a new batch of stew for each visitor. Uh, they might do that and poison-checking, which she claims is STANDARD on Xyquine for Their Majesties and important Government and Army officials, but not in a heritage restaurant. WHAT DOES SHE EXPECT? And why does she think that I would harm her? She’s unbearable when healthy, nobody in their progress-loving mind would want to deal with her when she’s sick. Did she come here to put us down, break us even further and torture us? She did, however, accept to have lunch with us, at our apartment, because it was raining outside. I made a point that her tours would have been ruined by the rain and she did ignored that remark. Mom made her coogaflower and ground bantha casserole with DoTal brand string cheese. I am surprised that the grouchette-comradette had nothing against it and that she did not say that Xyquine cheeses are superior to about every single thing on Sacorria. Then she had a walk around the place – she said that it’s not good that our windows are facing North, that we should always put the lid down on the ‘fresher because our “balance of the Force according to the lost teachings of the Aing-Tii monks depends on healthy surroundings”. After that, she left something on the seat and it was definitely not water. I think we have different ideas on things such as health and cleanliness. I thought that I would have the time to sit down and write a long report on what I did at the pond during the week and draw the Scalefish and compare them to those in Mammon Hoole’s “Life of the Animals”. I also wanted to try and write my first datacode from that book Gredda conveniently included in the datapad’s plastoid carrybag. At least show my name on the screen or something. Or make a roleplaying game with Brave Little Banthas, Ebe got me hooked on that again and was surprised that Jan and I were mad about it in basic school. Just…ANYTHING OTHER THAN DEALING WITH LUMIA. But I was not lucky. Lumia wanted me to accompany her for a walk and a visit to that “Celestial-chanelling Drall healer”. Of course, we had to head all the way to SoSacc, to dad’s old neighbourhood. I told her that his parents and Aunt Iris used to live there and she nonchalantly asked me if Iris was dead, too. No, she is perfectly alive and we are not telling her that you’re around because we do not want one more person to suffer from you, you…old Hutt! The Celestial-chanelling Drall healer looked fishy to me…and mind you, I work with fish and my dad loved to fish, so I have a fish-sense, or something. His name was Foggo and he claimed that he was paralysed from waist down and that he managed to overcome it. I asked him how, he said that he was assaulted by a vicious green non-sentient piece of scum back when he lived in FedDub. I said that I was sorry to hear that and Lumia told me to shut up, then she apologised and said that younglings should not be talking that much. I was then told to remain in the lobby, while she went to the healer’s chamber – looked just like another plain Drall-cave to me, by the way – strip to her undergarments and lie on the special bend for chanelling the energies of the Architects of the Galaxy. I CALL POODOO. But hey, at least I did not get to see her in her undergarments. That would have been worse than the Battle of Yavin. She meeped and yelped a couple of times – apparently, this Foggo who healed his own bones by these VERY COSMIC POWERS was helping her get her joints in the right place. He peeked out from behind the curtain a couple of times and winked to me, then signalled that Aunt Lumia was a bit of a wermo. TELL ME SOMETHING I DON’T KNOW. Now…his legs didn’t look very natural to me. The fur was kind of synthetic and the toenails were too shiny. I still think that he’s a scammer, but at the same time, I don’t feel sorry that he scammed Lumia….if he did, that is. We walked through the parks leading to CenSac for good two hours after this session and Lumia did not seem to mind that it had started raining. She talked about typical Xyquine desserts and I said that Progressina’s Jam & Spoon, the little patisserie-tapcaf located on the banks of Aruglia serves all kinds of great things. She said that the two of us should definitely go there for a treat and asked me if I agree. I nodded. One hour later, we were back at her hotel and I did not think it was appropriate to mention that she promised to raise my blood sugar levels and all. After all, she’s pure carbosyrup. She then went on and on about her husband, Lichen Lucé, a natural-born Naboo who hates Naboo and would never go there. He said that the Naboo were hypocrites. Then he talked about the Blockade of thirty-whatever years ago and explained how the Emperor, then the planet’s senator back on Coruscant, did not handle things right, because he didn’t have the Declaration of New Order available. I asked her what does she mean, she said that all the Gungans and Neimoidians should have been disposed of. That would have prevented the Clone Wars and then-Republic soldiers like her Lichen would not have witnessed the horrors back on the “barbaric” word of Neimoidia where the Neimoidians ate their pilot alive. Minutes later, she talked about her pet avians, Zuwe and Duwe. I asked her what kind of names were those and she said that beings who speak Pak Pak say “funny things like that”. Then she vocalised it as “zuzuzuzuzuzuzu weeeeee dududududududududu weeeeee”. There are times when I question the Tarkin Doctrine, really. Sure, some species are inferior, but this is too much. Once I was finally able to go home, my happiness didn’t last that long. The cover on my light speeder did not activate, the sensors kriffed up and the seat was soaked with rain. I got soaking wet, but at least I could take a nice ride and avoid the arrogant landcar owners that don’t like seeing lightspeeders in higher lanes. I did what I always do when I feel bad – hovered over the very confluence of the Seven Rivers for a while and looked in the water. And just then, I had this stupid fantasy that is way too Empress! For my taste – there was no Porky, there was no Jax, there was somebody quite unlike either – neither portly, nor muscular, rather frail-looking and sporting a full mane of beautiful hair. He had a huge smile like Jax and seemed kind of absent-minded like Porky, but he was listening to me and he wanted to take a look at what I wrote. He had eyes which were – gosh, this is not progressive – like mine. This greenish brown kind. And he was not short like Jax, either. But not really tall to begin with. Like…normal, I guess? Around 175 cm. The ideal height for Humans as advised by the Imperial Doctrine, but not the Book of Law, which says that men under 180 cm tall are too short. And we…kissed. On the lips. Is this because I once kissed the viewscreen when Jax was on or because Porky kissed me only twice and smelled of chyntuck chutney the second time around? I think Tendra and Zana are a bad influence. I am starting to fantasize about these Prince-on-white-equines types. And I don’t want a prince of any kind. Princes equal monarchy and monarchies are not progressive enough. Cue: Lumia and her constant talk of Xyquine II’s alleged progress. Cha, as Kutuya would say…cha, I am totally listening, except that I’m a droid and my circuits have all jammed. Anyway…maybe my subconscious-whatever is smarter than me. Had I thought of Jax, MY REPULSORLIFT WOULD FAIL and I would have drowned in seven kriffin’ rivers at once. SEVEN. Not that the number seven means anything anywhere else than on Sacorria. Grannos have their obsession with fours, or so Great Aunt Larax told us. I asked Porky to get me a book on that from Estainia, but of course, he didn’t. When I realised that I had four – what a coincidence and irony – missed comms from mom, I hurried home and almost hit a semi-working Saygo Triad a couple of blocks from home. The pilot, an elderly Selonian male was humming instead of talking, I apologised, sped up and disappeared as fast as I could have. Mom was angry, but at the same time, she was glad that I didn’t blast at Lumia. I was close, and I did say so. It turned out that she did. They had a long holocomm err, battle after my visit and I could see that mom was crying – she told Lumia about dad’s day of death and how insulting that gift was, she said that I was not allowed to wear colours other than orange until I am done with lyceum and university studies and said that it’s not fair to change plans like that. She accused Lumia of not being able to keep up with own promises and Lumia remained colder than the Grotlo Cap. Mom played me a recording of that and I…I wanted to smash the holocomm! Sure, mom is mom, but when she says we’ll go for dessert, we go. When she pays for lunch, she does. And we have far less credits than Lumia! Glad I have this datapad to just push bad things out of the airlock. And weird things, like that prince-pateesa. Mom would not like me to use spacers’ lingo. Mom would probably call me uneducated for writing Xyquine and not Xyquine II. BUT SHE CANNOT SEE THIS. If I want, I will call it Rearsine XVII and SHE WON’T BE ABLE TO TELL ME THAT I MENTION REARS TOO MUCH. Now, what would she have to say against that, anyway? Dad used to comment on rear-ends of every single being on the viewscreen and mock men with large rears or no rears at all. There was this one time where he said that one could play dejarik on Pretty Dadanna’s lower back!!! Perhaps he and I should have had our own viewscreen show, since I feel like my whole life is a romdram, anyway. Let’s try that. Hello, audience. Nah, just kriffin around with you, progaway! // SUBMIT DATA Footnotes Spoiler Coogaflower and ground bantha casserole with cheese are fanon, so is DoTal brand string cheese and Xyquine cheeses. Aing-Tii monks are absolutely canon. Lumia's belief, however, is based on Feng Shui and a partial parody of it, and is therefore, yeah, fanon. Mammon Hoole’s “Life of the Animals” would be a GFFA equivalent to Alfred Brehm’s book. Datacode - Code snippet. Fanon. Carrybag - Carrying pouch. Fanon. If you have read the epilogue of Letters Never Sent, you should be familiar with Foggo and aware of the extent of his injuries. Progressina’s Jam & Spoon is a little patisserie tapcaf on the banks of Aruglia, about 1-2 km away from the Seven Rivers Confluence. Carbosyrup is canon. Pak Pak is the official language on Neimodia and in their "purse worlds" Zuwenda! means Surrender! in Pak Pak. Zuwe and duwe mean nothing. Lichen is a kriffslider as much as his wife is. Cha - Yes in Drallish, or at least Sacorrian Drallish. Fanon. Lightspeeder is a cheep Saygo vehicle made out of recycled landspeeders (or "landcars" in Sacorrian slang), an equivalent to our bicycle. It can be used as - like its name says - a very light speeder, carrying max. two beings, or, in some models, the repulsorlift technology can be turned off, the aerodynamic parts can be tucked in and it can function like an exercise device. Think of it as a bicycle with superpowers. Chyntuck chutney was created by Chyntuck as a Wookiee food to be used in her 'verse and it's mentioned in her fanon entry here. I can imagine it to be...EXTREMELY oniony? Garlicky? Definitely not for an "average" Human digestive system. And Doria is a wuss, much like me. Vagranite obsession with the number 4 is related to their Neo-Pagan beliefs and will be elaborated on. Fanon. Saygo Triad is one of Saygo models. Grotlo Cap would be Sacorria's Southern Pole. Fanon. Pateesa is a Huttese word, meaning "dear", "friend" and such. Canon. The very end of this entry is very meta and you won't figure it out, so don't even bother.