In the waterfall meditation garden of the Jedi Temple, a rare occurrence has just occurred: Masters Yoda and Windu had been struck completely speechless. For in front of them, twenty-year-old senior padawan Obi Wan Kenobi and his master, the fifty one year old highly respected Master Qui-Gon Jinn, were currently sprawled out on the grass in their formal robes, not meditating, not even having an in-depth discussion about, perhaps, the formal negotiations they were supposed to be in. Oh, no. They were currently marking tallies on pieces of flimsy and arguing over whom the Force hated the most.

Specifically, they were devising a points system so they could determine whom the Force hated the most.

"Alright, so, injuries first. One point for each broken wrist, ankle, finger, toe, or minor fracture. Two points for large breaks, or ones that went un-healed at least one week due to lack of proper healers. Two points for each concussion. What shall we do for blaster shots? Those vary."

"True... Ah, maybe one point for each week spent in the healer's ward because of one, and half a point for ones that got taken care of in less than a week."

"Sure, that sounds fair. Let me think…burns. How about one point for each degree of the burn?"

"Alright, but what size shall we consider a burn? They can cover you from head to foot or be no bigger than a pin prick…"

"True…so, let's say a square half-foot is a burn. If it's smaller than that, we can just add up the degree points and give half for it."

"Fair enough. And basic torture?"



Both Jedi jumped slightly and turned. "Master Yoda?" Obi-Wan said uncertainly. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes!" The little master snapped. "Very wrong, something is! Wrinkling and dirtying your best formal robes, you are, while in negotiations you should be! Why there are you not!"

Qui-Gon shrugged. "We didn't really see the point, Master Yoda." He replied. "If we go, we'll either be blown up, threatened, kidnapped, memory wiped, shot at, yelled at, or we'll screw up through misguided good intentions and end up being reprimanded, yelled at, sent on a dastardly mission resulting in loss of life/limb/sanity, etc, or start a chain of cataclysmic events that will change the world as we know it. So we decided to just stay here and enjoy ourselves for a bit."

"But that happens to you anyway!" Mace protested. "We're Jedi. It's what we're trained to handle."

"Yeah." Agreed Obi-Wan. "But the Force hates us. It happens to us far more often than to any other Jedi."

"We're sick of it." Qui-Gon agreed. "It's starting to be where it's not worth going, even if it does result in us being able to say that we tried and having long, sentimental talks after waking from comas."

"So instead, you decided to just stay here and argue over who the Force hates more?" Master Windu asked.

"Pretty much."

"Using a points system?"

"Can you think of a better way?"

He pretended to think. "Hmm… Maybe you could just meditate for a bit and ask it?"

"Nah." Obi Wan shook his head. "We tried that. It simply said that there was no emotion and asked us why the hell we weren't in place for its ambush."

Mace blinked uncertainly. Obi's face was rather straight, so he couldn't tell if he was joking or not. So he did the safe thing and changed the subject. "So…who does the Force hate more so far?"

"We haven't started tallying points yet." Qui Gon replied. "Would you like to sit down with us? The Force might not hate you as much as us, but it might be fun to see how much it does."

He shrugged. "Sure. But I get an extra five points for having to put up with the damn council all day, every day."

"Alright." They agreed.

"Wait!" Yoda barked.

They looked at him.

"Join you, I will." He said. "Seven-hundred and fifty more years worth of the Force's bull, I have had to deal with. Beat the pants off of you, I can."

"Ha!" laughed Obi-Wan. "As much crap as I've had to put up with? Even your extra years won't defeat me!"

"See about that, we will." Yoda replied cryptically. "Begin, we will!"