I started taking a writing class yesterday that Kristine Backes is putting on here in Livingston, MT. If anyone wants to know more about it please let me know, she will be doing it many more times in the future. As one of my new years resolutions I’ve outlined several things that I can do on a daily basis; one is to write here in my blog and another is to look for continued educational opportunities like Kristine’s class. One of the prompts that she gave us was to choose a Star Wars character and write from their perspective – this is my story: A Hairy Star Wars.
His brush is always full of hair. The hairballs are atrocious and there isn’t a corner on the ship that doesn’t have at least ten. The other day I was spooked by one that rolled out behind me. I thought is was one of those eight legged rats that we’ve been trying to exterminate.
We were being chased, as does happen from time to time, and we hid in a large asteroid field. It’s a great place to disappear for awhile. Knowing that we needed to be quiet for at least a month or two he decided that this would be the perfect time to jetti. I’d never heard the term before but he told me it was what they called their shedding process.
In all the years we’ve been together I’d never realized how much of a mess the jetti process was. I asked him if it was kind of like when we jettisoned our cargo. He nodded like he does and smiled. I was not smiling back. I could practically watch it floating away from his body. It was all over the ships controls, the furniture, and under the glass gauges. How the hell does it even get there?
One early morning I woke up gagging and coughing. I hacked out a nasty hairball that was in the back of my throat. “That’s it.” I turned on my bunk light and saw fine hair particles floating in the air. Not going up or down just hanging. I waved at it with both hands and punched the door button. I stomped down the corridor to his door and banged hard six times.
“Chewy, get out here right now.” I was yelling. Nothing. I banged ten times with an added kick with my foot. “Damn it.” That hurt.
“Gugu,” I heard from behind the door.
“Nothing’s up. Get out here.”
“Gogu gugugu gooo.”
“We haven’t been discovered, but your hair is everywhere and I’m fed up. If you don’t clean this all up you’ll be hitching a ride with someone else.”
“Gagaa ahhhgug, ahh ga grra arr ga guuu.”
“You watch your tone buddy ol’ pal. I think I’m developing an allergy to your stinking hair.”
Chewy threw up his arms. Waves of fur floated all over the place. He blew the hair right into my face and gestured a rude wookie sign then slammed his fist into his door button. The door slid together, meeting in the middle with a distinct bang before I could get another word out. I yelled and so did he through the closed door. I waited, but he didn’t come out.
Three days later and eighteen receptacles later he finally emerged. I had the place almost cleaned up. His long shaggy hair was completely gone. He was covered with a short, thick layer that mostly covered him.
I was still mad and I could tell he was too by the way he moved around. I pointed to the stack of receptacles. He shrugged his shoulders and started to walk away from me. I stomped my foot. He turned and lifted his arms in the air like he was going to hammer down on my head. His under arms were completely bare.
I tried to hold it in but I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Chewy glared at me. I reached out to grab the tool cart to steady myself and misjudged the distance. I stumbled and hit my head hard against the utility door hatch.
Chewy started to laugh. It was my turn to glare up at him. He lifted his arms up and I started to laugh again.
“I don’t care about the mess. I’m sorry buddy.”