“Master?”
“Yes, Padawan?”
“Can
we go somewhere that has real silverware today?” the two
Jedi had been on Earth three days, and Anakin still had not mastered the use of
chopsticks.
“Have
no fear, Padawan,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “Scotland has no
chopsticks.”
“What do they have?”
Obi-Wan smirked. “You don’t want to know.”
Anakin shrugged. He knew he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of his Master when he was in a playful mood like this. Instead of trying, he simply sat backand waited for Obi-Wan to land the ship.
As per usual, they rented a room first, then changed from their Jedi garb into traditional Scottish attire.
… … ..
“Master, I am NOT
wearing a skirt.”
“Don’t be
ridiculous, Anakin.” Its called a kilt, and its what all men here wear,” the
elder Jedi commented, looking down at his own rather hairy legs.
“But don’t the
stripes mean something?”
“Its called a
Tartan, Padawan, and it’s a symbol of a person’s clan, among other
things.”
“What’s this one
for?”
“The MacGregor
clan. Now put it on.” End of discussion.
Anakin obeyed.
Ten minutes later,
they were entering the restaurant and ordering. Or rather, Obi-Wan ordered.
When the food came, Anakin dug in without question. “This
is good,” he mumbled around a mouthful of food. “What is
it?”
Obi-Wan, not eating,
laughed.
“Haggis.”
“What’s that?”
Instead of answering
out loud, the Master sent the ingredients to his Padawan through their bond.
Anakin was okay until he was told what the lining was.
Slowly, the color drained from his face and was replaced with a sickly green tone. And he bolted from the room.
/Lesson number one,” Obi-Wan sent to his sick apprentice, /find out what it is BEFORE you eat it./