Saga - ST Uncle Greedo's Breakfast Waffles

Set in the New Republic on Hosnian Prime.
This is really just mucking about with a silly little idea. Nothing too deep.
I'll add a new chapter every few days.

Oh, and thanks @Gamiel for sparking an idea....
Fanfic Writer's Desk: Your Place for Writing Discussion, Questions, and Advice

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“And here we are, Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls. Our tour bus is now over The Rabalista. The very center of Republic City. Look at all the lights. Wow. Isn’t it beautiful? Look over there. That hologram of Alexa Vermillion In Hosnia Tonight Show is almost a full mile high. Anyone got tickets to the show? Well done. They’re not easy to come by. I’d go closer but the radiation makes tour bus a little shaky, and I wouldn’t want any of you to fall out now. It’s a long way down.

And there, where the Six Grand Boulevards all meet, is the statue of the Great Mon Mothma. May The Force Be With Her, eh? Thank you for saving us all, my lady. The statue took five years to erect and stands over 100 feet high.

Hey kid, careful with that ice cream. Don’t go dropping it on the crowds.

So they say that on any given night, there are around a hundred thousand people down there. Going to flicks and the stage shows. Anyone seeing the Gungan Water Follies? I hear it’s a hoot. While you’re at it, get a bite at Uncle Greedo’s famous Breakfast Waffles. Down there folks. See that big orange sign? Yum-ee. Great waffles, if you can get in.

And there, right below us, can you see them? Look kids! Ewoks from the Endor Adventures cartoons! All your favourites. Bikbok, Wick-cha, and, uh, the other one. Just a warning to Mums and Dads, take pictures, but don’t let ‘em touch your kids. Those hairy suits haven’t been washed in years. They got bugs, you know? Bugs. Filthy animals.

And ooooh. Is that General Grievous? Scary, isn’t he kids? Still chasing after them Jedi, I bet. Just take care around them actors, mum and dad. They can get pushy asking for tips. Five credits for a picture, okay? Don’t let ‘em rip you off.

Whoah, that’s some lightning there! A thunderstorms on it’s way. Anyway, we’ll be landing momentarily. Put on your ponchos if you’re gonna walk about.

Kid! Hey! Watch that ice cream! Uh. There it goes...”

 

A blob of orange ice cream landed with a splot on General Grievous’ shoulder. He arched his back to look up at the passing tourist airbus, and waved his plastic lightsabers

“CURSE YOU KENOBI! *cough* *cough*” he roared, playing one of his standard sound clips.
As the tour bus flew away, the droid clunked over to a waste bin and shuffled about with one of his usually hidden extra limbs for a used napkin, and wiped the sticky mess off his shoulder.
“No respect.” he grumbled in a deep static distorted voice. That stuff would get into his shoulder ball-joints. Such a bugger to clean out.

A young couple walked past, wide eyes, looking at the advertising lights. The man eagerly pointing his holorecorder at the spectacle around them.
“It’s Grievous! Hunny! Stand next to him!”
“Prepare to Meet Your Doom!” Grievous roared, and posed with lightsabers spread dramatically. The young man had snapped pictures of his beau who put on mock expressions of fear with a little smiling scream and holding her hands to the side of her face.
After a few snaps, Grievous “Ten credits, human.”
“Ten?” it sounded like a lot.
*cough* *cough* General Grievous hunched down his imposing seven foot heavy metal frame, and held out a hand.
The man fished a ten credit chip out of his pocket, and then the couple was off into the crowd, only to be quickly accosted by giant Ewoks.

---

Once upon a time, in another mechanical life, General Grievous had been an Industrial Assembly Line Droid. He assembled washing machines, hologram entertainment units, speeders chassis. Whatever the company was selling at that moment. And as with all Industrial Droids, he had a good collection of arms. A welder, a rivetter, a couple of panel grippers, a fine screwdriver and a hammer for whacking things into place. But as all droids do, he eventually wore out and became obsolete, and was thrown on a scrap heap, and powered down, and died.

Until he was reborn! Suddenly awake with a surge of energy in a dustly, rusty warehouse, His joints rebored and oiled, his limbs were modified with permanently affixed lightsabers. His body was covered with pieces of tin plate painted that distinctive bone white, and under his chest plate was implanted a decorative red heart shaped lamp that gently throbbed. The whole renovation was capped with a costume General Grievous Skull mask placed over his optical sensors. Not a perfect reproduction, but good enough for the job.

And then General Grievous was sent off to make a few credits for his owner in The Rabalista.
He loved his new life.

---

A rumble of thunder bounced around the skyscrapers, barely heard above the noise of the buskers and hawkers and tourists. Grievous walked around his territory in front of the stone feet of Mon Mothma, posing his flashing plastic lightsabers with excited wide eyed tourists from Outer Ring planets, and taking credit chips in gratitude. Nearby a posse of three giant Ewoks did their own pantomime dances and poses for the holo-cameras, while umbrella’d carts sold nuts and pies and fizzy drinks.

The crush of people rich and poor of all species, here experiencing the wonders of the center of the capital of the New Republic.

Uncle Greedo rolled on by. He was an advertising astromech with a large green plastic, and not particularly realistic, Rodian head bolted on top of it’s dome. He had been fitted out with a good collection of hologram projectors shining off around him. Above its head floated a large flickering orange arrow that always pointed to Uncle Greedo’s Famous Breakfast Waffles Restaurant, which was located on the northern edge of The Rabalista, and smaller holograms of anthropomorphic waffles with their cartoon arms and legs, danced along behind him. All the while that jingle we all know so well played out of the green Rodian snout.

♬Uncle Greedo’s.
So Much Fun!
Uncle Greedo’s
Every One!
Uncle Greedo’s
Fill Your Tum!
Uncle Greedo’s
Yum Yum Yum! ♬

Another flash of lightning in the sky. Grievous could see the clouds rolling in, but there was enough time to make a few more credits before the rain scared everyone away.
“Here we go.”

“RWARR! You cannot escape Jedi!” he roared melodramatically, turning heads.
Unfortunately there was no one in Jedi costume nearby, but the Naked Stormtrooper helpfully stepped up to play the game. Wearing an old Imperial Empire trooper helmet, a pair of red underpants, and a healthy set of tanned muscles, he came running in swinging his guitar. “Take that you evil fiend!”

“Gah! You will die!” and the two put on a little mock battle. Plastic lightsabers versus a sticker laden acoustic guitar. General Grievous threw in a few acrobatic spins of sabers, while the Naked Stormtrooper would turn and strum a few chords to the growing audience before returning to swing at the feared villain.

Finally a swing of the guitar sent the General flying back with arms flailing against a light pole, defeated. The Naked Stormtrooper turned to the audience and sang a few lines of “General Grievous, You Don’t Scare Me”, as the crowd clapped along, and gave a bow. “Thank-you! Thank-you! If you liked our performance, then please show your gratitude with a chip or two.” and waved a hand at the plate before him.

“Do the Crab!” a child yelled, referring to that six legged scuttle General Grievous would do in the drama whenever he escaped. But this Grievous couldn’t do that. Something missed in his modifications.
After a few moments the kids sneered. “Ha! What a Fake.” and with that the crowd stopped dropping in their chips.

A scowl grew on Stormie’s face, “Hey! Come on guys! We gave you a good show!”

That was when the drums started beating.
Brrr-rum-tika-tika Brrr-rum-brr-rum… It echoed out of a speaker somewhere within General Grievous’ chest.
The General stood his imposing full seven foot tall, his arms and four lightsabers pointing high and low, left and right.
Brrr-aaap, tika-tika Brr-aaap....
The complex beat blasted out, and the General got into the groove. Lightsabers strobed and span as he twisted his body around on it’s industrial ball joints. Feeling that Assembly Line rhythm.

The Naked Stormtrooper gave out a loud “Woo! Come on, give it up for The General, folks!”, and strummed some chords to the beat and sang.
♬♩Spaceships melting in the dead of night, and the Superstars circle round the Super Massive… ♩♬

Uncle Greedo rolled around behind the scene, getting in a bit of quality advertising. His hologram waffles pulled out cute little cartoon blasters and fired swirling multicolored blaster bolts into the air.

Now a crowd was really growing, crushing in a circle around the performers, cheering them on, clapping to the beat, getting into the mood. But then a few drops of water splattered on the pavement. People started looking up. A crash of thunder, and the sky abruptly dumped down the rain. With some squeals, the crowd ran for shelter.

“Ahh well.” and General Grievous clicked off the music and shut down his lightsabers. The show was over.

 

The crowd gone, General Grievous bent down and picked out the handful of credits from the plate and handed some to Naked Stormie. With another rumble of thunder, the rain picked up an extra notch and the mascots ran to the covered stalls below Mon’s left big toe.

They pulled together a few plastic chairs, water dripping on them through gaps in the canvas.
“Chai anyone?” asked Grievous, Naked Stormie put up hand, and the Ewoks pulled off their heads revealing long faced Abednedo heads with little face tentacles dangling. “Hai!” they nodded.
Sagotarb, the head Ewok, lit up a cig smelling of whatever herb Abednedos enjoyed.

Grievous walked over to a stall to order.

Uncle Greedo turned off his arrow signage and put his waffles into Playful Puppy mode. The little holographic waffles pranced and rolled about each other.

A bit of downtime was good.

They sat, circled on their stackable plastic chairs, cradling their chai to warm their hands and waited for the rain to die down.
“Aren’t you getting cold walking around like that?” asked Grievous.
Stormie took a sip. “It’s getting a bit nippy, isn’t it. But the girls love the pecs, ya know?”
He held up an arm and flexed a bicep.
“Uh. You meatbags and your sex games. So messy.” The splat of ice cream on his shoulder still bothered Grievous and he twisted trying to clean it out with a paper napkin..
“Anyway, I know a guy who’s got a Wookie suit.” said Stormie, “I’d be warm in that. Just got to convince him to lend it to me.”

“NO WOOKIE!” declared Sagotarb, pulling the cig out of his mouth and flicking it.
“Pardon?” Stormie and Grievous both looked at the new entrant to their conversation.

“You no Wookie! We are Wookie!”
“Hey, no, you’re Ewoks. Completely different.”
Sagotarb looked at his fellow Abednedo-Ewoks, “Hey! Noslep. Get the Wookie hat.” and the two of the exchanged some chatter in their native Abednedese. Noslep dug into a canvas bag and pulled out an orange furred Wookie costume head and put it over his head.

“Oh come on. It doesn’t even match the rest of the costume.” laughed Stormie.
“Mmmff. Wrrragh”. Noslep attempted a muffled Wookie roar.
“RAAARRRGGH!”, and Grievous blasted at full volume a recording he had in memory. Uncle Greedo’s waffles threw their hands in the air in cartoony terror.
A startled passer-by into dropping her bag of fries. “Sorry ma’am.”

“Anyway, you can’t play guitar in a Wookie costume. That’s the best bit of your act. I tell you what. I need a Jedi. Someone to fight. And then you can show your pretty face to the girls. You could do a bit of a Jedi strip tease if you want. First the belt, then slip out of the robe, then wave around your lightsaber…. What do you say? You keep warm and we team up for the best act on the Rabalista.”

Stormie looked at Grievous, thinking. “You need your paint touched up there.” and pointed to a scratched bare metal spot on his cheek. “Maybe. Let me think about it.”

“Good! Jedi and Wookie fight General Grievous, yes?” Sagotarb interjected.
“YOU WILL ALL DIE! *cough* *cough*” Grievous played a clip. “Sure. Wookies, Ewoks, whatever you’ve got. We’ll give them a show they’ll come across the Galaxy to see.”

And somewhere in that decision, the rain had stopped.

 

Our little band of mascots picked up their bags, and Grievous gave a nod of thanks to the Chai stall owner. The crowds were steadily emerging for the shops and restaurants. The streets getting busy again.

As they wandered back to their usual spot, they were confronted by a new act setting up shop.

The new act consisted of two, apparently genuine, old B1 Battledroids. Antiques from over half a century ago that had been lovingly restored paced about, rehearsing their lines.
“Roger Roger”
“Halt! You are under arrest!”
And in front of them, practicing swipes with a pair of lightsabers, was another General Grievous.

Sagotarb waved his Ewok costume head angrily, “Out! Out! This is our place! You go now!”
The Ewoks stormed forwards full of anger and pushed at the Battledroids, “Out! Out!”

Our Grievous lumbered forwards, back hunched over, deep green cape wet and clinging to his back. His normally hidden industrial gripper arms out forwards, with two flat prongs ready to crush.
“You! You dressed up Protocol Droid!”, the word Protocol was spat out with particular disdain. “Get out of my spot! I will kick your scrawny metal ass!”

“Fight! Fight!” some kids were watching the confrontation.
“Grievous versus Grievous! Fight!”
The crowd built around them, taking pictures.

Neither Grievous could resist putting on a show, their emotions already high. They charged at each other, plastic lightsabers whooshing with sound effects turned up to full volume.

They clashed and span and posed face to face. Plastic costume mask staring into plastic costume mask.
“This is MY busking spot. Leave, or I will crush you!”
“I have been sent here by Count Dooku himself! I will not yield!”

“Oh don’t get me into this” muttered an old white bearded man dressed in black, a brown cape and carrying the obligatory plastic lightsaber.

Beside them the Battledroids and Ewoks were shoving each other, neither quite brave enough to take it up into actual punching.

“PH-WEEEEEEE!” a whistle.
“Okay guys, break it up. Enough. Enough.” It was the cops.
A man in blue uniform carrying an actual, dangerous, energy baton stepped up to them, putting hands on the two Grievous shoulders.

“This guy is trying to muscle into my spot! No good greasy Protocol Droid..”
“Hey! Hey! And you three! Ewoks! Come on Sagotarb. Do I gotta arrest you guys again?”
The Ewoks stopped their shoving, well, Sago gave one last push at a droid face to prove that he had won the fight.

The Protocol Grievous bent and picked up a piece of paper from his tip bowl.
“I have every right to be here. Look! It’s all legal.”
He handed the paper to the Policeman.
“See? I have a Permit.”

The policeman looked at our Industrial Grievous. “Well? Where’s yours?”
He had been defeated by paperwork.
The droid waved his lightsabers at the sky.
“ARRRGH!!!! KENOBI!!!”

---

IG-88 let out a harsh electronic screech.
“All Humans! Must Die!” he screamed, firing his blasters into the air.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this!” cried out Han Solo as he rushed in with his own blasters firing off harmless holographic bolts. Remember that old holovid series “Renegade Solo” from a few years back?

The two of them put on a show that involved martial arts kicks and dramatic jumps and spins. IG-88 doing that torso spin trick where he suddenly faced backwards to Han’s surprise. That always got a laugh.
Finally Han sent a well placed kick into IG-88’s face, and with a whir-whir-whir sound effect IG-88 powered down and fell to the floor.

“Take that, you Metalic Monster.” and the crowd cheered.

Then the beats started up.
Boom-chacka-boom. Boom-chacka-boom.
IG-88 got to his feet. “Heeeeey ladies! Welcome to the Galactically Famous, the one and only, beware of imitations… Han Solo Striptease Spectacular!”

The crowd went wild. Some had travelled actual Parsecs to see this Han do his thing.
As the music thumped away, Han swivelled his hips provocatively and slipped one arm out of his vest, and then sexily, the other.

Uncle Greedo rolled on by, his waffles wiggling their little cartoon butts.

 

What a spoof/parody of theme parks and tour bus "lectures." Holographic waffles, Ewoks and Wookiee costumed characters and even a Han Solo in the mix