We open on Courscant, camera hovering above the city as speeders zoom by in all directions. The camera swoops down, down, down- past semi-respectable eating establishments, and lower. Finally, in the depths of the city, we fly in the doors of an extremely trashy looking bar. There are very few patrons, and all of them look very seedy. Some are passed out at their tables. We fly by the entrance and around a corner to the darkest recess of the bar.

Sitting at one of the stools is an extremely disheveled man in a dirty brown robe. His head is down on the counter, his unwashed shaggy brown hair the only thing visible of his head, which is mostly buried in his arm.

BARTENDER: (tapping the man on the shoulder) Hey, buddy.

There is no response.

BARTENDER: (grumbling) Lousy parasites, always passing out before they pay. (louder) Hey, buddy!

The drunken man stirs slightly. Slowly, he looks up through bloodshot eyes at the bartender. We see that it is OBI-WAN KENOBI, Jedi Knight, 37 years old.

BARTENDER: You gonna pay for that last round?

OBI-WAN: (speech slurred and slow) Ohhhh sure.

He reaches through the folds of his robe, fumbling to find the pouch on his belt that contains his credits. It takes him a considerable amount of time, and the BARTENDER rolls his eyes.

OBI-WAN: (setting a handful of credits on the table) Here, here you are. that's for the last and. (soft hiccup) . and another.

BARTENDER: Hey, no way, pal. You have any more and you're going to be out cold. I won't have bums passing out all over my place. Now scram.

He shoves half the credits back toward OBI-WAN, who stares at them quizzically for a moment.

OBI-WAN: (irritated) Look here now. that's not fair. I'm a man. of my word.

OBI-WAN leans forward as he says this, patting the BARTENDER on the arm to reassure him. The BARTENDER sneers and pulls away, repulsed.

BARTENDER: Right, and I'm a Jedi.

OBI-WAN: Ha! The BARTENDER flinches at the smell of OBI-WAN's alcohol-saturated breath.

OBI-WAN: Funny you should mention it. I, sir, aaam a Jedi.

BARTENDER: (cleaning up glasses) Uh-huh.

OBI-WAN: Yes, a Jedi. (tracing some invisible picture on the counter) . or at least I was..buuut now, I can't be sure.

The BARTENDER makes non-committal grunting noises, ignoring OBI-WAN's ramblings as he cleans up some more.

OBI-WAN: You see, my Anawan Padakin. Padawan Anakin.. Well, he seemed promising but now. Ohhh! Now he's gone over to be a Sith. (pounds fist on the counter) Can you believe that? . a Sith. of all things. I'd have been fine with maaaybe something like a floor mat weaver, but a SITH?! .alllll my fault, too.

OBI-WAN bangs his head on the counter a few times, then begins to try to drink from his empty glass, scrounging for one last drop. The BARTENDER slowly takes the glass away from him.

OBI-WAN: (angry) Hey! I was drinking that!

BARTENDER: Enough with it, now get out of here before I have to throw you out!

The BARTENDER walks around to the other side of the counter and stands menacingly over OBI-WAN, who looks up at him appraisingly, then laughs.

BARTENDER: (growling) You trying to get yourself killed?

OBI-WAN: (half-laughing) Oh no! It's just. just the notion of it. I have to laugh.

The BARTENDER obviously doesn't see anything funny. He draws back his right arm, and punches OBI-WAN, sending him falling off his stool onto the ground. For a moment, he just sits there. Then, he begins to laugh again. The BARTENDER snarls and reaches down, grabbing OBI-WAN by the collar of his robe, lifting him up, and pushing him roughly across the room into a wall. He then takes a few menacing steps toward OBI-WAN, when finally, the Jedi has enough presence of mind to ignite his lightsabre. In one not-so graceful movement, he cuts off the BARTENDER's arm.

BARTENDER: Ahhhhhh!!!

The BARTENDER keeps screaming in pain as he falls to the ground. The other patrons look at the situation, then at OBI-WAN, and quickly scatter. OBI- WAN switches off his lightsabre, clips it to his belt, and stumbles out the doorway. He trips on the curb and goes crashing to the ground, unconscious.


We see black and hear a loud, steady pounding sound. A crack of bright, glaring light filters in.

We cut to OBI-WAN KENOBI, lying on his bed back at the Jedi Temple. MASTER YODA is sitting next to him, giving him a stern look. OBI-WAN groans and rolls over, unaware of YODA's presence.

YODA: Master Kenobi.

The sound startles OBI-WAN, and he bolts upright. He then sees YODA, and groans again, having a bad feeling about this.

YODA: Know you how you came to this state?

OBI-WAN: (rubbing his temples) Master Yoda. I'm sorry..

YODA: Sorry, are you? Heh. If sorry you are, prove it you must.

OBI-WAN: Yes, Master, I truly am sorry for defying the Jedi Code.

YODA: More sorry for the results, you mean.

OBI-WAN: Well, of course for that. This is the worst bloody hangover I've ever had. (rubs temples some more, closing his eyes)

YODA: Humph! Master Obi-Wan, more sorry for what happens to others should you be than for what happens to yourself.

OBI-WAN: Others? What do you mean?

YODA: Recall, do you not, the events of the evening?

OBI-WAN: No, I mean, it's all kind of hazy.

OBI-WAN stares off at the wall, trying to remember. Then, everything seems to come back to him.

OBI-WAN: (quietly) Oh. That.

YODA: Approve of this behavior the Council does not.

OBI-WAN: (worried) The Council isn't thinking of. Oh, please Master Yoda-

YODA: Expel you the Council does not wish to do. Understand your circumstances, we do. Wish to help you.

OBI-WAN: Help? What sort of help?

YODA: A transport awaits. Take you away it will. Rest, you need, Obi-Wan. Recovery.

OBI-WAN: Recovery? What sort of recovery? Where is it? Where are you going?

YODA walks slowly out of the room without another word. OBI-WAN groans in pain and frustration. Using the Force, he turns off the light, lays down, and pulls a pillow over his head.


Inside a small, plain building, a group of scraggly-looking creatures of all species sits in a circle. They are all wearing nametags, and waiting for something.

The door opens, and in walks OBI-WAN KENOBI. He is looking a little better than the last time we saw him, and wearing a clean brown robe. He looks around the room nervously at the group. The LEADER stands and shakes his hand.

LEADER: Welcome to Alcoholics Anonymous. You must be the new member.

OBI-WAN: (sheepishly) Yes.

LEADER: Have a little trouble finding us did you?

OBI-WAN: A bit. I've only been to Tatooine a few times.

LEADER: Well, might as well get used to it. Might be here for a while.

OBI-WAN: (with a slight smile) Let's hope not.

The LEADER leads OBI-WAN over to an empty chair. Everyone in the group is staring at him, making him a bit uncomfortable.

LEADER: I'm Senk, by the way.

OBI-WAN: I'm Obi-Wan

GROUP: (monotone, in unison) Hi Obi-Wan.

SENK: Obi-Wan is it? Well, that won't do. We already have an Obi-Wan in our group! That could get very confusing.

OBI-WAN: Already have.?

SENK: That fella over there, he's named Obi-Wan.

SENK points to a strange frog-like creature who is nodding off in his chair.

SENK: We'll have to give you a new name. Uhhh, how about. Ben.

OBI-WAN: Um, sure that sounds fine.

SENK: Good, good. Ben it is then. Now then, tell us about your sorrows, son.

SENK sits down, leaving OBI-WAN the only one standing. All eyes are on him. He shifts his weight nervously and glances around the room. Clearing his throat, he finally speaks.

OBI-WAN: My name is Ben Kenobi. and I'm an alcoholic.