Not Exactly Dagobah, But…

Stovohobo stumbled through the caves just outside of the bombed-out city, breath coming in ragged clouds as he descended deeper. Drips of water echoed around the cavern, plip-plopping off the stalactites and stalagmites.

Suddenly, a small sound came from a cave to the left. Almost like humming.

“Hmm hm hm hmmm…heady feeling i are – am…” a small, throaty voice said.

Stovohobo cautiously tread along the damp rocks, clutching the stitch in his side. He had escaped from the earlier attack on their camp (see beginning of series!), and fled to the hills. He hoped Elsha and the others were doing okay.

“Hmm…ah! A visitor we have, I spleen – er, see!”

Stovohobo held his breath.

“No, come, come. We have much to teach.” Stovo rounded the corner to see a diminutive green figure in a small robe. A lightsaber was in one hand and a staff doubling as a bong in the other.

“Ah, Stovehobgoblin…I’ve been – ” sniff ” – expecting you. Come now, and I will teach you the ways of the Farce.”

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