This is it, the final chapter. There are some things I have to take care of, so here are the reviews:
Lgithbulby: Yes, you might go into Bobo withdrawal. Agh. I made all my friends go into withdrawal, too. Heh heh.
Moreta Lynx: Well, that's a rather interesting little skit you have there. Heh, Boba's about to get his big gun back. Where will you be then?
Infamous One: Heh heh, I know that you hate Bill. Well, I don't know if you're going to be happy with the ending, but...I don't know, worship it anyway. Lol. :D
First and foremost, I would like to thank TFKAK. Without her goading on my crazy ideas about a bloated Boba Fett and Maalox Max, there would be no story. In fact, if it weren't for her mishearing the words "Boba Fett" when I showed her a picture I drew of him, there would be no inspiration for this story.
Some other semi-beta readers include Momo (Bobo loves you! Thanks for letting me use your likeness), Skogurt, Paris (here's laughing at you), my evil sister, and Picard (Kirk pwns joo!)
Lastly, but certainly not the least, are my wonderful readers. I love you all, especially those who reviews! Unless you don't want me to LOVE you, in which case you are all very nice people and I feel privileged to be on the receiving end of your reviews.
STAY TUNED AFTER THE FEATURE PRESENTATION FOR A QUICK ANNOUNCEMENT.
P.S. Boba swears a lot in this chapter.
XVII. The Power of the Maalox
And now we find our hero drinking his troubles away in the Mos Eisley cantina, Bill as his chair. It wasn't tat he particularly cared for sitting on the bony Twi'lek's back, but he had to give an aura of authority, even if it was a drunken aura of authority.
It was too late for him now. Boba Fett was dead, as dead as one could be. He might as well resign himself to the fact that he wasn't going to be able to buy any Maalox Max from anyone in the entire galaxy. Even his old business associates, Palps and Vady, were dead and couldn't help him now.
"Bill, order me another glass of the red stuff."
"What, you mean the ketchup I squeezed out of my shirt?"
"Yeah that. Wait, I hear something." A low thrumming tone reached Fett's ear. "Ye. They're coming." He slurped up the last of his drink through the straw attached to his helmet, got off Bill, and ran outside. The 162,331 creatures were waiting.
"TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER, YOU DEVIL-SPAWNED BASTARDS!" Fett roared defiantly, spreading his arms wide and lifting his head to the glaring Tatooine sun.
"Um, ok." The beasts lifted him above the ground, taking him into the distance. Bill heard a final cry from Boba's tormented soul.
"Get back to the Fettmobile you little frinker!"
Sand. Tatooine had an awful lot of it, that much was certain, and it seemed that every grain of it on the entire planet was between Mos Eisley and the Pit of Carkoon. And these dumbass little frinkers couldn't even carry him properly.
"Loose up on the neck!"
"It's you own fault; you asked for this."
"Damn. Did you ever notice how funny that word is? Damn damn damn."
"Stop it or you shall be dropped from a thousand feet, to be eaten by the sand."
"Ha ha, then your precious master won't get his Maalox Max. Didn't think of that, didja, idjits?"
A collective sigh broke from the mouths of the devil spawn. "You will surely be eaten, you are far too impossible. The master likes his subjects submissive."
"Subject! I am NOT your frinkin' master's frinkin' subject! I--"
Fett stopped speaking to half gag up his lunch. They were at the Pit of Carkoon and the stench was unbearable/ Worse than Bill's bean farts.
"Ugh! You didn't tell me it was this bad!"
"Yes we did."
But that was so many chapters ago, dears.
"BOBA FETT! Have you brought me my Maalox Max?" The Sarlacc seemed a little on edge, which was understandable, seeing as it smelled like a very dirty sewer.
"Er...no. See, the thing is--"
"Shall we strip him, master?" The devil spawn grinned maniacally.
"Yes, but do so not in my presence."
"Wait, no!" Fett screamed as the devil spawn dove at him. "I don't want to rot in there with that stench for 1,000 years! I'll...give you some Maalox."
"I thought you had none!"
"I do. Look." Boba ripped off his helmet (revealing his stunning, chiseled features) and pulled out a small bottle from inside. "It's my private stash. I have to use it for myself, but...I can smell that you need it more." He unscrewed the lid and threw the contents into the pits.
"Thank you, Boba Fett. Already I can feel the effects of the Maalox Max. I am in your debt."
"Cool." Boba shoved his helmet on. "Now can I have my really big gun back?"
Ah, there was Bill, sitting by the Fettmobile like a good little Twi'lek slave. Boba had a bird's eye view of the twerp as the devil spawn flew him into Mos Eisley. They'd been...kind enough to offer him a ride. "We're going that way, anyway," they'd said. "The master has other minions, you know."
"Bill! I'm back!" Fett landed on the ground with a thud and shook his fist at the devil spawn as they flew off, snickering.
"Where'd you get the Maalox Max?" Bill asked incredulously.
"WHAT?! We've been running around the galaxy for Maalox Max and you HAD some?"
"Well, not using it has certain...side effects." Fett stood up. Bill fell over. He was laughing again.
"YOU'RE...BLOATED!" he gasped out. "Oh my gosh! You're so fat! It's...BOBO FAT!"
"Get on the Fettmobile. Now." Boba said through clenched teeth.
"Not! It's the Fatmobile! Ha ha ha ha, Bobo Fat..."
As we leave our favorite bloaty bounty hunter and drugged Twi'lek to get on the Fettmobile, we hear a loud clunk. Does anyone have a spare hundred credits I could borrow for a gravestone that says 'RIP Bill'?
NOW FOR THE PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT...
BOBO FAT 2!!!!!!!!!!
I am currently in the process of writing 'The Further Adventures of Bobo Fat"! No word on when it will be up, but that should give you something to look forward to, eh? From the author, vegemite.