Archive for art. star wars

Arts and Farts and Crafts: Stealing People

Posted in arts and farts and crafts, fiction, movies with tags , , , , on July 17, 2008 by hoagiefest 2020

Arts and Farts and Crafts is a weekly artistic challenge. Every Thursday, a new prompt will be posted here on Ugly Food for an Ugly Dude. Then, you will create some sort of media based on the prompt. Is it a rhyming couplet? A ten-page story? A photograph? A drawing? A recipe? Whatever you’d like. As long as your piece of art is a new creation and it’s vaguely inspired by the week’s prompt, it’s in!

To enter, post your entry on your blog. Then, e-mail me at with a link to your entry. I will then make a round-up post sharing your art on my website, as well as the requisite linkage.

This week’s theme?

Use a character (or characters) from a preexisting work of fiction.

Like all of my ideas, I didn’t actually sit around and think it up. For some strange reason, Lando Calrissian being sent to the high school guidance counselor actually popped into my head during the week. I’m not sure how “quality” this entry is. I wrote it quick (and I was so overwhelmed by the response to my pudding post that I spent a lot of time reading other people’s entries and trying to comment. I’m still not caught up in that regard. Anyway, here’s my lame and weird entry.

You’re A Good Man, Lando Calrissian

You’re young, handsome and debonair. You have an innate fashion sense. I like you. I really do. You show so much promise. That’s why I called you into my office today.

You’re throwing your life away, Lando Calrissian. You hang out with the bad crowds. You know the types. The ones who think they’re so strapping in their beat-up white shirts and black vests. Space pirates. The dregs of society. You always wanted something more out of life. You wanted to be a lawyer. You wanted to go into politics. Those dreams will disappear in a flurry of Sabbacc and blaster fire.

Do you really want to be a card player? Gambler? Scoundrel?

I believe in you. You could do great things. You could become a governor! A senator! Baron administrator of any city you desire! Instead, you’re going to end up a corpse in the depths of Coruscant. A lifeless corpse. I should know. I’m a guidance counselor.

All you have to do is take the fist step. Better your situation. Get into the Imperial Academy. Then, after that’s taken care of, worry about going to grad school; taking your LSATS. You have the knowledge and charisma to win at whatever you do, but if all you want to do is spice and death sticks…I’m sorry for getting choked up, but it’s just so disappointing to see great promise go to waste.

Don’t even worry so much about the LSATS at this point. Baby steps, Mr. Calrissian. I can tell you’ve been losing sleep, and frankly I have too. Go on the straight and narrow. You’ll be able to stop worrying so much. You still have a chance. You will still have a future, unless your planet is destroyed by global warming or a Death Star.

To get to sleep, my grandmother used to go through the senate supreme chancellors in her head. Took her mind off other things, activated the memory instead of the active brain, etc. She could do it chronologically, reverse-chronologically, alphabetically, and reverse-alphabetically. If that didn’t work, she moved on to the grand moffs (who presumably bored her to sleep).

I guess what I’m saying is, if your mind is racing, get it racing to something inconsequential and boring. That’s why counting banthas works, at any rate.

Also, what I’m saying is that Darth Vader will blow up your planet and eat your children.

Nichole also went the movie route, and I’m sure you’ll be able to tell what “character” she utilized. Here’s what she had to say: “Complete and utter crap. A character from Indiana Jones. Let me know if you can tell who. Did I mention that this was crap. Trash it, right away!” Sounds like she wants her entry on the Internet to me!

Hand-made from a small tannery in Louisiana. The best. Never faltering, always crackling. With energy.

The sound. *CRAAACCK* My one small pleasure.

This what I am. I was created to snap sharply, splitting air. To herd. To encourage submission of all wild beasts. Especially horses.

But this man. This odd, peculiar, chameleon is different. Asking not to submit great beasts (as small as I might be I am excellent at this), but to warn away those who would destroy the powerless. A Sidewinder, a rattler.

We threaten, guide, and then escape, evading short puffs of iron. A death defying waltz. Tap. Tap.

When I was created I expected my destiny to encourage great post carriages carrying vast treasures across the once great plains.

Instead, I sat unused, unacknowledged for years. Until one boy brought my destiny.

One boy that changed it all.

I have been to the end and back of this flat world. Pyramids. God. Aliens. Great treasures to tempt the saintly and knowledge to corrupt the incorruptible. He is neither. A scholar. And I have no desire to turn on him (as all eventually do). A weapon that is not…admiring a man dying from the disease of humanity. Then what will I be? What is left of old wrapped leather? A threat. A warning. Fading away in this world of machines.

Forgetting once that I was crafted by hand to become a conqueror. And yet I guide instead.

Next week’s theme is as follows:

If I hear one more “you are the wind beneath my wings” I’m going to vomit. Literally. All over the floor and hopefully on Miss Suzie’s shoes. She’s a curmudgeon of a woman. 4.’11”, 80, and nosey as hell. I’m hope it has chunks. My vomit. Slouching in my chair I eyeball the happy couple. My best friend and my ex-fiancée together for ever. And their wedding song.

You Had Me From Hello.

Said hello came when I finally arranged for my life long best friend to meet my fiancée.

I hope they choke on the wedding cake. Or possibly get a tin can stuck in the wedding car’s exhaust pipe. Karma happens.

Entries can be submitted in any medium. The end-date for submissions is Thursday July 24. Be sure to notify me at!