Seventeen Anakin Skywalker hated cleaning his room. Come on, a Jedi Padawan wasting away his valuable time cleaning his room? True enough though, he couldn't even take a step within his room without stepping on something, but surely that wasn't reason enough to submit him to this torture? He had said the same to his master, who had then responded:

"What about the smell, then?"

Anakin had to admit that he had a point there. His room did have a faint aroma (contrary to Obi-Wan's opinion) of something rotting. Come to think of it, Anakin had lost a anchovies sandwich in his room a few months ago...

He sighed. His room was a disaster zone, worse then some of the war-torn planets that he had visited. Clothes strewn everywhere, holo-pads and holo-movies buried amongst them. He supposed that he really would have to clean it this time.

Anakin headed over to his radio, and set it to Coruscant's number one station: 106.5 Intergalactic pop. He then quickly set himself to tidying up his room, tossing clothes and objects into two different piles: clean and dirty.

He had been doing this for about an hour he heard the announcer, a Gungan named Ricko, name the next song. Anakin smiled with pleasure. This was one of his favorite songs.

Dropping the armful of clothes in his arms, he pranced over to the centre of his room and started to move to the music, singing along as well:

"I feel pretty, Oh so pretty..."


Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was walking through the corridors of the Jedi Temple with his close friend, Siri Tachi. They were planning on heading over to Obi-Wan and Anakin's quarters to have lunch, and to check and see if the Obi-Wan's young apprentice was having any luck with his room.

"Was it really that bad?" asked Siri as they walked.

Obi-Wan grinned at her, his blue eyes lighting up. "You couldn't pay me to sleep in that room overnight."

Siri considered this, and soon replied. "Well, it can't be as bad as Ferus' room used to be." she said, addressing her former Padawan, now knight Ferus Olin.

Her friend just stared at her.

"Wow. That bad, hunh?"

Obi-Wan nodded, as they drew closer to his quarters.


The mop head came off pretty easily, Anakin noted as he swung it off of its handle and placed it onto his head. He glanced into a nearby mirror, smiling as he went by. The blond hair suited him.

He turned up the music, and using the hilt of his lighsaber as his microphone, he continued to move around the room, singing and dancing with his master's old teddy bear.


Music could be heard through the walls of his and Anakin's quarters, albeit it muffled and unintelligible. The rhythm, however, was decisively pop.

Siri laughed. "Your padawan sure likes his music loud." she said to Obi-Wan, smiling.

He frowned back at her. "Not funny, Siri." he stated, before stepping through the threshold. The music began to pound at him, rising several notches since they had entered.

Lyrics floated by, although Obi-Wan was too upset to hear them. Siri could though, and recognized them from a famous Inner Rim play called 'West Rim Story'.

"ANAKIN!" Obi-Wan yelled out, opening the door to his apprentice's room, Siri close behind. What they saw shocked them both into disbelief.

Anakin Skywalker was dancing around in his room, mop head used as a wig, lightsaber as a microphone and Obi-Wan's cooking apron as a dress. But Obi-Wan also quickly identified Anakin's dancing partner.

"Mr. Squiggles!" he cried out, before fainting and being caught in the waiting arms of Siri Tachi.

Anakin quickly pulled the mop off of his head and ripped off the apron. Looking sheepishly over at Siri, who, after putting Obi-Wan down on the ground had doubled over into laughter, Anakin turned a bright shade of lavender.

After Siri had recovered enough to speak, she asked Anakin (between girlish giggles), what the hell he had been doing.

"I just like that song." he answered sheepishly.

And that was that.