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fuzzydemolitionsquad · 4 years

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The tractor part three

A greater whipkillow flew high above the winding mountain road, its vee-shaped body held aloft by warm thermal updrafts. It followed the racy Sorosuub speeder for a few klicks– then, deciding that its occupants were too large to make a meal of–gracefully rolled toward the west and soared on. Zeb handled the winding two-lane with no trouble whatsoever. After all, he had cut his driving fangs on roads like this one when he was a kid no bigger than Puggles. Speaking of Puggles. He thought to himself. He checked his chrono and sighed. One agonizing hour of awkward silence had passed. Under normal circumstances, it was a blessing when Puggles was quiet but this silent treatment was driving Zeb mynock-shit crazy. He cleared his throat and pointed over his shoulder to the small back seat of the speeder where a plastoid packing crate sat. “So, I found the perfect parts for pa’s tractor.” There was a long pause, then- “Whoop-dee-diddley doo.” Puggles finally said, under his breath. “Actually,” Zeb continued. “I found a lot of good parts. Do you think pa would like a high performance tractor engine? Sure would make pa Lunxx jealous.” The little brown lasat sat up in his seat and tagged his cousin with a glossy-eyed stare. “ I cain’t believe yew! Yer jus gunna ferget what y said t’ me back there in thee city? Talk to me like nuttin' ever happened? Puggles ain’t got no feelin’s, huh? Tis a’right t’ tear him down. It ain’t like he’s a normal lasat anyway.” “Puggles, about what I said– “Hells, Zeb!” The big purple lasat was cut off. “I know I’m a drunk. I admit it. I ain’t never hid it from nobody. Not Jenni, not Ma nor Pa nor thee bounty hunters’ guild. Sure I got the thirst. I got the shakes right now thinking ‘bout my next cold one. It hurt a little when yew threw that in my face, but when yew called me disgustin, I don’t know’. . . Twas like a dagger in th’ heart. Like ol’ Puggles is so unpleasant and rotten and such that yew wanna un-relate yerself to him.” Zeb’s eyes widened. “No, no. You’re getting me wrong. I didn’t mean that at all. I was just mad.” “I could feel it, Zeb. Deep in my innards. I has t’ get it through my noggin that yew is all growed up and smart an’ stuff.” The little lasat knocked on his fuzzy head. “My brain ain’t like a citified brain. I cain’t keep up wit yew there. I unnerstand why yew hate me and hate me bee’in round yer friends. I’m a bigger shame t’ yew than yer no-good daddy.” Great big tears spilled down Puggles’ cheeks. Zeb pulled off the road onto the evergreen needle strewn shoulder. “Shows how little you know.” He grabbed Puggles and squeezed him tight. It wasn’t as much of a comforting hug as it was a need-to-be-comforted hug. “I love you, cousin. It's just. . . Well, it’s really me, not you. I have a lot of new friends, and I’m not gonna lie, sometimes I feel out of place in the city. In the academy. I doubt myself. I always wonder if I’m smart enough or strong enough or if I give off the right ‘warrior vibe’. Lasats make fun of my accent. Sometimes my superiors say I’m extremely talented . . . for a hayseed! What’s that supposed to mean? Am I impressing them or not? My grades speak for themselves, but what am I saying? Will lasats take me seriously? Am I Honor guard material or am I some sort of joke?” Puggles squirmed out of Zeb’s crushing grasp, grabbed his shoulders and looked at him. The purple lasat was panting. His eyes were bulging and his stress-scent was blooming. “They called you a hayseed? A karabastin’ hayseed?? What a bunch of . . . y’ know what? Kark them book-humpin’ tea drinkin’ art gallery attendin’ formal attire and what-have-you wearin’ assholes! I seed you study war strategies all day, straight thru suppertime and into thee night! Yew’ve climbed ironwood trees to the tippy-top and down in twenty seconds and bench pressed hammerhead calfs until they wuz full-grown bulls!! Yew is smart enough and strong enough and y’ has a right-impressive dignity. Ain't no lie Zeb. All yew gotta work on iz yer patience. Y’ cain

#Star wars fanfic #zeb Orrelios #Puggles Trodd #hope this all shows up #never had a prob with long stories before #cant find under cut?#why is my tumblr changed #shut up I'm not a boomer #hahahahahaha

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kattywhumpazz · 6 years

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The Galaxy’s Best Cub-sitters™️ Puggles and Mossy Trodd.

There’s a reason for the sad song lil’ Zeb. Now guzzle your 40 oz energy drink.

#star wars aliens #legends characters #Puggles Trodd #lasats #swamp shack #zeb orrelios #stoned #munchies #moon pie

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moonstarturtle · 7 years

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Some Kallus-centric sketches

#agent kallus #garazeb orrelios #puggles trodd #star wars rebels #lasat oc #artmine

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fuzzydemolitionsquad · 4 years

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AAAAHHHH! I JUST BOUGHT A PUGGLESBACCA!!!

#concept Chewbacca #Funko pop #my favorite lil' brown lasat #he'll go great with my Zebs #Puggles Trodd #he's even little like Puggles #aww so cugly

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fuzzydemolitionsquad · 5 years

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The tractor part two

Zeb cruised down the main street of Snag Toe, a not-so-bustling metropolis that was only a skip and a hop away from the Trodd family farm. Puggles lay back in his reclined seat, picking his nose and flicking his findings into the wind.

“I told you to STOP DOING THAT!” Zeb popped his cousin across the chops with the back of his hand. “If one of those gets on me I’m gonna choke you out!”

Puggles cackled. He sat up in his seat and watched a jumble-shrub blow across the road. There were no vehicles hovering by the curbs or krauntaun mounts tugging at their hitching posts. Everything was quiet. A lone drifter clad in beaten leather fueled his speeder bike at a dark fuel station. He turned onto the street without looking in the opposite direction and headed for Transitway Nineteen East. A solitary bantha in a paddock across the road lowed plaintively as she watched him go, her long tongue stretched out in his direction of travel. All the shops–including Gurvis’s Tractor and Farm Supply– were closed. The windows of the shops were concealed by plate-metal shades, like the eyelids of sleeping lasats.

“Welp, looks like evrry’thang is closed.”

“It’s only an hour and a half to mid-sun!” Zeb said.

Puggles scratched his hairy chin. “Wunner if this has sumthin to do wit the elly-mentry school carnival? Old Gurvis volunteers fer the milk bottle toss erry year, an Mizz Clapp, y’ know, the sundry shop owner, sells tickets. Yup, pract’ly the whole damn town gets involved.”

Zeb palmed his face. “ WHY didn’t you mention this BEFORE?”

“I unno. Jus’ slipped m’ mind. Oh well. Guess we has to go back home.”

“No. No, I promised pa I’d help him fix the tractor today.”

Puggles sighed. He lit a cigarette and took a drag. “Well if you insist. We kin turn left at thee stop and head on over to Needlesap. They got a tractor parts store there too.”

Zeb thought for a moment.

“Nuh-uh. Needlesap has all those crazies who were released from the mental hospital. Oh. Heh. Sorry Puggles, no offense. Besides, it’s where all the Lunxx boys hang out. I don’t feel like saving your scrawny tail today.”

“Save mah tail? Shheeeoot. . . I kin hold my own with them blinked-milk-suckin’ moon-calfs.”

Zeb laughed. “Whatever you say, Puggles.” The big purple lasat stretched his arms over the steering yoke and rest his head on them. His ear twitched.

“What iz yew doin’? Gettin’ sum shut-eye’?”

“No. I’m thinking, and. . . I think I have an idea. How long has it been since you’ve visited the capital?”

“Amethyst City?”

“No. The other capital.” Duh.” “Of course Amethyst City!”

Puggles’ brown face twisted. “I’d rather suck on the business end of a lightsaber! Or scrawl m’ name acrost a Mandy-lorry-an’s helm! Hells, I’d rather go skinny-dippin’ wid a love-sick dianoga than go to thee blasted capital!”

“So you really don’t wanna go?”

“No!” Why would I? Place is fulla ijits. Dandy lads an’ snooty gals and polly-tish-ans and such.”

“There’s lots of nice lasats too.”

I heard there wuz staurmtroopers there. An’ guards all a’suited in red.”

“Well, yes, but that was over two dust seasons ago.” Zeb said, a small crease forming over his brow. “The Empire wants fealty.That’s why the Emperor has sent envoys over the last couple years. Same thing happened when the Separatists and the Republic were vying for our support. Lasan isn’t interested in any political affiliation other than its own.”

“White and red. Bone and blood.” Puggles intoned.”That’s what Mossy said. Bone and blood.”

Zeb rolled his eyes. “ I think Mossy’s been eating too many toadstools.”

“Mebbe so. But he’s a witch’s son. Sometimes he has the mindsight. You member that.”

Zeb’s eyes shifted to the floorboard of the speeder. He looked at his feet. His prehensile toes kneaded the warm, plastoid-sheathed metal. Puggles’ worries were his as well, though he would never admit it.

“Capital’s two hours away. We better get going. I want to get pa’s tractor up and running today so he can get an early start tomorrow morning.”

“Land a’ muddlin’. Fine. Let’s git a move on.”

The big city filled Puggles with a combination of loathing and excitement.

There was nary a field nor hollow nor tree to be seen, save the topiary monstrosities growing from large bronzium planter boxes lining the streets.

Massive domes and tall conical buildings competed with one another for space, corrupting the natural skyline of purple mountains beyond. Sheer crystal sidewalks tinged lavender and green fronted a myriad of shops for blocks and blocks on end. Lasats in colorful attire bustled about like bees in a hive, their servant droids walking behind them, shopping wagons in tow..

Zeb entered a round-about on one busy street. In the middle was a statue of a heroic-looking female. Her quadranium arm was raised, a large bo-rifle in her grip. The sun glinted off her tattered uniform and one bared breast.

Puggles' eyes widened three sizes. “Did yew see that? Her tiddy is showin’! Whoo-wee. . . and it’s a nice un’!

“Be respectful, Puggles. That’s Shaddis Rrochious. She was a highly-skilled warrior and martyr who perished in the barbarian wars.”

“A warrior huh? Sheeeoot, she could shock me wid that ‘lectric rifle any time.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her spirit that when I’m in temple. Oh, and by the way, there’s a great statue of Firuz in front of the Warrior Council building. We should bring Jenni next time. I’m sure she would admire the bulge in his-

“All right all right. Point taken.” Puggles turned and looked back. “I’m sorry Miss Shaddis! Please ‘cept a Southern boy’s humble ‘pology!”

They continued on down the street. Colorful, high-definition holograms flashed in the fancier shop windows, advertising the wares inside. The colors danced across the hood of Zeb’s speeder. Puggles’ whistled through his teeth.

“I ain’t been here since I wuz a lil’ sapling. Don't ‘member any of this crap.”

“Are you sure you could see over the dashboard?” Zeb threw back his head and laughed.

“Go fuck yerself.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” The big lasat covered his mouth with his hand and snickered.

Puggles hmmmf’ed. “I’ve been off planet and I never seen a sinners paradise like dis.”

“You keep on bounty hunting and I’m sure you will. Maybe you’ll get lucky and be offered a job in Coruscant.”

“ Lucky. Oh yeah, sure. Thee lower levels of Coruscant iz a killers’ paradise.”

Puggles changed the subject.“Where is we going t’ git the doodad for pa’s tractor?”

Zeb smiled proudly. “Just so happens I have access to the parts depot near the guards barracks.”

Puggles went silent, as if he was in a trance. He blinked his eyes. A wicked smile unfurled across his face.

“That means yew has access t’ the munitions depot too. Don’t yew?”

Zeb’s hands shifted nervously on the steering yoke.

“N-no. Of course not. I’m not authorized to go in there.”

“Yew iz lying cuzz. I kin always tell. Yer nose gits all pink and twitchy. Course It don’t happen much, since yew is such an honest soul.”

“As opposed to you.”

“Yep, as ‘posed t’ me.” Puggles raised and lowered his brows in quick succession. Goading his younger cousin.

Zeb stopped at a signal. Three attractive older females with fantastically coiffed hair crossed the street in front of him. All three were walking tiny, white-furred oorvarks with gemstone encrusted collars.They waved and lowered their eyelids in a flirtatious manner. When they were out of ear-shot Zeb turned to face Puggles and grabbed up the front of his shirt.

“Let’s get one thing straight. . . CUZZ. This isn’t a fireworks buying expedition. There’ll be no bombs, no thermal detonators, no percussion grenades, no flares, no flash-bangers , no detonite, and no rocket launchers! NOTHING!”

Puggles pulled back and brushed off the front of his old flannel shirt.

“ Of all thee in-dig-nitties! I swear Zebediah, military life has made yew as ornery as a croaker eel!! I just wanted a little sooveneer.”

“I’ll buy you a tee-shirt.”

Puggles mumbled under his breath. How dare his little cousin treat him like some kind of infant cub! He had half a mind to throw a fit, one that would embarrass Zeb to his core.

The speeder approached a busy establishment named the Tooth and Claw. It looked warm and inviting with its polished wood balistrades and stairs. A brawny male wearing the same type of skin-suit that Zeb wore had another male in a tight headlock out front. The trapped male didn’t seem distressed in any way. He laughed as he went to his knees and flipped his assailant over his shoulder. Both lasats stood up and patted each other on the back then lifted their huge ale mugs from a small table to the side of the stairs. Puggles clapped his hands and licked his parched lips.

“It’s a bar Zeb! Pull over! I could really use a beer!”

“Oh, I don’t know Puggles. You’ve been drinking a lot lately.”

“What iz yew, mah ma?”

“No. I just worry about you that’s all. Besides, we don’t have time.”

“We have time fer one beer!”

Zeb knew if he didn’t give in, his cousin would continue to harp about the weapons depot. He listened to the crowd inside the establishment. Clinking glass and raucous laughter spilled out the doorway. The laughing turned to cheering. It was the toeball finals, and Zeb knew that some of his mates were inside. He looked at Puggles who was practically salivating.

“Okay. First of all, here in the Capital, it’s called a pub. Second, ONE beer. Then we leave. I think I should warn you. There are some first-year honor guards in there. Like me. They get pretty rowdy. Especially when they’re watching sports.”

“I hate sports.”

“Yeeeah, maybe don’t mention that.”

Zeb parked the speeder around back. He and Puggles stretched their legs and headed for the front door. As soon as they entered the pub, a whole table of green skin-suited males jumped up, whooping and hollering.

“Hey it’s good old Orrelios! ”

“The Zebster!”

“What’s up Zebby?”

“Come over here mate! The Shocktown Royals are knocking the stripes off the Burrndock Howlers!!”

Zeb waved. Puggles was off like a rocket before his cousin could make introductions. He jumped up onto the bar’s foot-rail–squeezing between two big graybeards smoking their pipes–and banged on the wood planked bar.

“ Anyone here? Someone pour me a cold one! No foam now, ye hear?”

The tender stepped out of the shadow. She was almost eight feet tall and as wide as the two graybeards combined. Her hair was an enormous blue bush and her chin was as square as a box. A dark mole stood out on her right lower cheek like a bullet wound. The cobalt stripes on her impressive biceps were as wide as one of Puggles’ legs. A fat cigar dangled from her lower lip.

“Didja say something, love?” She said in a surprisingly pleasant voice.

Puggles stared up at her boulder-sized breasts and lava-hued eyes and let out a gasp of genuine admiration. He fluffed out his jaw fringes.

“Great Bearded One! If yew ain’t the most stunning creature of thee female sex I’ve seen in this blasted city! Howz about yew pour me a cold one an we kin step out back for a spell.”

Panicking, Zeb and two of his mates rushed the bar. ‘Tiny Teeks’ the bartender picked up a heavy glass mug. She looked like she was planning to smash Puggles’ in the mouth.

“I don’t like blokes funnin’ with me, Short-shanks!” She said.

“I ain’t funnin’ you Big Blue! I likes what I sees!”

The square-jawed female looked at Zeb, who had a pleading look in his eyes. She put down the mug. “Orrelios, ye came in with this little squirt. Is he for real?”

“Unfortunately he is. He fancies himself a ladies-male. He’s my uhh. . well you see, he ah..that is, me and him are. . .

“Cousins, Teeks!” One of Zeb’s squadmates–a few-years older male named Gron– shouted. “That’s Zebby’s hill-trekker cousin! The one he’s always talking about.”

“Well I’ll be a korsa’s dewlap.” Teeks said with a snicker. “Don't see the family resemblance.”

“Hit cain’t be seen on thee outside gorgeous. Our fam’ly’ semblance iz our love-makin' talents. Iddent that right, Zebadiah? Us Trodds iz natural born kit-magnets!”

“Oh Gods and Ancestors . . .” Zeb blushed while his friends fell on the floor laughing. He wanted nothing more than to shrink down to the size of a flea and disappear into a crack in the wall.

“Puggles, would you shut your-

Zeb didn’t finish his sentence. Horns blared from the holovid player speaker. They were proceeded by the roars of a couple thousand spectators. Lasats in the pub went wild. Teeks jumped up and down and clapped her hands. “GOOOOAAAAAAALLL!!! Oi, did ya see it boyos? Xaniboor’s ball flew into the net faster than a mynock flying out of th’ inferno! GO ROYALS!!”

Teeks picked up Puggles like a rag doll and kissed him on the lips. Then she dropped him and poured him a beer. “There’s more where that came from, love! No no, put away your credits! I’m buying. I don’t know about your special talents, but you sure as dust are a good luck charm!”

“What about me, Teeks?” A dark-faced, yellow-furred guard asked in a whining tone. “I’m your best customer!”

The big female frowned. “Squints, I wouldn’t piss in ye pocket if ye was dying’ of thirst. I heard what y’ said about me! That me arse is bigger than any of the arses in the Capital Zoo.”

“That wasn’t me! It was Bear.”

“Sure, sure. And I’m th’ bleedin’ Queen!”

Puggles puffed out his chest and walked jauntily toward the table where Zeb had re-seated himself. Noticing that there was no chair available for him, he dragged one from the next table over and shoved it between Zeb and another young male. The soldiers were talking–more like gossiping–about what seemed like a very serious incident.

“. . .so she snuck out, again, and met Lorrbskr in the priest’s gardens.”

“I don’t believe that.” Zeb said, shaking his head. “Lorrbskr’s got a good career ahead of him. His whole family is military. He could be General some day.”

Squints made a funny sound with his nose.“You know how the Princess is. Always flirting. Always sneaking out. Getting blokes into trouble is a sport for her.”

“But, her guards. How does she keep giving them the slip?”

“She’s as slick as snot, that one.”

“ Lorrbskr's going before a review committee. Karabast, I wouldn’t want to be in his shin guards.”

Zeb sat back and took a drink of his ale. He burped against his fist.

“You guys are jumping to conclusions. He was probably at the temple to pray for his sick mother. The Princess saw him from her window, climbed out and comforted him. You gotta admit her life has to be pretty boring. She’s not allowed to have a suitor, can’t go anywhere without a chaperone. Hells, the Queen probably picks out her wardrobe and food and everything.”

Puggles rolled his eyes.

“Yew fellers iz thee most borin’ stiffs I’ve ever met. Gossiping like a flock a’ hens. I’m gonna go play spinner darts.”

“You do that.” Zeb growled.

The little lasat ditched his chair and padded up to the bar. Teeks had a cold one waiting for him.

“Ye really should have some of the stout. It’ll hit ye in a most pleasant way.” She said, winking one orange eye.

“Darlin’, if beer was meant t’ be warm ittid be served in a soup bowl.”

Zeb watched Squints shuffle a nudie sabbacc deck.

“You in?” The yellow and brown lasat grinned.

“Sorry, no. We can only stay for a little while. Gotta get a part for my adoptive father’s tractor then drive back to Needlesap County before it gets dark.”

“No pressure mate. Hey uh, Zebby, me and the boys were meaning to ask you something.”

The other young guards turned away from the toeball game and stared at Zeb.

“What?”

“You know Captain Zanku is going to retire soon. Do you think you might try to claim his position?”

The purple lasat widened his eyes. He visibly swallowed. “ Me? Captain? I dunno. I mean I’ve thought about it. Maybe years down the road.”

“Come on. You'd make a great one! Right boys? That would be wiz! You as our Captain!”

Everyone nodded in excited agreement.

“Mnnn. The trials though. I’d have to get in top shape. Physically and mentally.”

“What are you talking about? You’re already there! Strong as a gnapstrup and sharp as a dirk. You passed your first trials with flying colors. Hells, you know more about military history than Zanku himself.”

Zeb put his hand behind his head and rubbed his neck. “Yeah. He made me regret correcting him on the dates of The Battle of Kisgothi.”

“Latrine duty sucks nodge-gobs doesn’t it?”

“Sure as shit does!”

The two lasats laughed until tears came to their eyes.

Gron slapped Zeb on the shoulder. “You got my vote, Orrelios. Karabast, you’ve got all our votes.” He raised his mug and the others at the table did the same.

Everyone in the pub clapped their hands over their ears when an ear-splitting shriek sounded high above the din. A surge of ugly, gray-green smoke boiled out of the back room. Puggles Trodd bolted through the smoke, his ears flat and his eyes enormous.

“Zeb! Let’s go!!” He screeched as he bounded across table-tops.

“Puggles? Is- is that one of your smoke screamers?”

“Stop wid thee questions and run!” Puggles shouted drunkenly.

“Why?”

“Y’ know a big dude wid a gray cape and a green bo-rifle?

“Yeah. That’s our Captain.”

“Well, I hit him in thee forehead wit a dart. Right smack tween th’ eyes. Don’ worry, he’s still kickin’.’”

Zeb’s eye twitched. As his friends ran for the door, he grabbed Puggles, threw him over his shoulder and sprinted outside. He tossed the little lasat into his speeder’s passenger seat and leapt into his own. The engines roared to life. Zeb floored the accelerator, fishtailing, then careening out into the street. He banged on the steering yoke.

“I knew it. I knew something like this would happen!” He turned in his seat and watched pub patrons spill out onto the sidewalk, coughing and clutching their pained ears. He hoped beyond hope that his friends would keep Puggles’ identity a secret.

“That’s it. We’re getting the part and we’re out of here! I am never taking you to the Capital again as long as I live!”

Puggles crossed his arms and grumped.

“Suits me jus’ fine. I nebber wanted t’ come here in the first place. Stupid dart. Spinner must’a been warped.”

“The only thing that’s warped is you!” Zeb snarled, so venomously it made Puggles start.

“How much did you have to drink back there? Hmm? Five, six?”

“ Seven. I din’ pay for them if that’s what’s eatin’ ya. I still has all my money.”

“Karabast! I don’t care about the blasted money!”

Puggles slammed his small fist on the dash. “Honestly Zeb, I cain’t fer the life a’ me figger you out. Why is yew is so bowed up?”

Zeb chewed his lip. His anger swelled anew.

“ Because you’re a disgusting alcoholic and you refuse to see it!”

There came an uncomfortable silence. The gentle thrum of the speeder’s engine sounded like a roar in Zeb’s ears.

Shocked and hurt, Puggles turned over in his seat. His body was slumped against the door and his ears were drooping. A minute went by before he spoke. His voice was devoid of emotion.

“Yew jus’ keep on beein’ perfect Zeb. Show us pathetic losers what it’s like t’ be a livin’ god.”

Yeeeah, hopefully it will take me less than sixteen weeks to put up part three.

#Zeb Orrelios fan story #Puggles trodd #slice of life #star wars rebels related-ish #lasat #honor guards

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fuzzydemolitionsquad · 5 years

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Oh this is the night , it’s a beautiful night, and we call it bella notte. .

Look at the skies, they have stars in their eyes, on this lovely bella notte...

WHAT YOU THOUGHT THIS FUCKER WAS GONE FER GOOD?

#Lady and the tramp #puggles trodd #p'sketti #how romantic

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fuzzydemolitionsquad · 5 years

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The Tractor

Part 1

A rusty GNK droid plodded across the farmstead’s dirt yard, its pace much slower than its maker had programmed it to be.

It was morning. The sun had just peeked over the humped ridges of evergreen trees in the distance. The air was already beginning to warm and the humidity was high.

The GNK tried to ignore the condensation building on its circuit boards. It made a deep gonking groan and tilted its boxy body toward the sky. How dreary it was to waddle around a farm, looking for something in need of power.

Why couldn’t I have been a spaceship, a sleek X-wing, or a roaring TIE? The sky beckoned. The GNK moaned sadly .

Its dream suddenly ceased to be when a circuit in its electronic brain crackled. Sense of duty restored, the GNK marched toward a shed containing the chooken brooder. There, behind a wall of woven wire, a passel of fuzzy, powder-blue chicks snuggled together. The cord to their heater box had come loose, pulled out by a pesky varmint who chewed it to a fray . The GNK plugged a pronged service arm into the box and powered down to fifty-percent so that it could rest.

And dream.

Pa Trodd stepped out of the farmhouse’s door and stood on the porch drinking his morning caf. He snapped his suspenders and looked at the large and formidable anooba laying upside down on her back and staring back at him.

“ Whadda yew say ol’ Gracie. . . wanna hep me till that quarter acre fer ma’s garden?”

Gracie’s tail thumped the porch’s wood planking so hard it raised a ferocious cloud of dust. The anooba stood up and stretched and trotted over to where pa was standing.

“Dat’s my girl.” The lasat thumped her side and scratched her ears.”When we done ahl gives ya a nice big soup bone anna plate a kalgow jowls for breakfast. Howzzat sound?”

The anooba's brushy black and tan mane quivered. Pa stepped off the porch, slapped his thigh and whistled. Gracie galloped to his side, her tongue lolling and her great jaws clacking. She gently took his wrist into her mouth and followed him to the barn where the old tractor sat.

Zeb Orrelios opened his eyes, stared up at the ceiling and smiled. He was back home.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love the barracks at the academy–on the contrary–all of his best mates were there. He chuckled as he thought of serious Geezer who–didn’t look like it– but had connections to the owners of every dive cantina and strip parlor in the Capitol.

Zeb checked his chrono on the nightstand and jumped out of bed. The delicious aroma of bacon and maize-bread, fried eggs and beans tugged at his nostrils like a farmer leading a hammerhead bull by the nose-ring. Being away on leave meant ma’s home cooking and lots of it. It wasn’t uncommon for Zeb to put on fifteen or twenty pounds during his stays with his family. Of course, it was all converted to muscle. Zeb thought of the academy. If it was one thing he didn’t like there, it was Private Rrazchow’s breakfast special, a plate of jellied meat chunks floating in greasy gravy and served on a couple pieces of stone-dry bread. Zeb and his mates affectionately referred to the entree as ‘dung on a raft.’

Zeb looked into the full length mirror and couldn’t help but smile. His stripes were growing a deeper purple, a nice contrast to the pale lavender of his base coat. His beard was darker too, and a lot thicker than it was the last time he was home.

“Looking good.” He pointed into the mirror with both index fingers and made a clicking sound with his tongue. Pulling on a pair of skivvies he grabbed his scrub brush and towel and headed to the wash room to pump water into the round wooden tub he had taken baths in when he was a child. It seemed so big back then, a veritable ocean. Now he couldn’t even stretch out his legs.

Ma Trodd served up plates of bacon, beans and bread then padded back to the stove to pick up a huge iron skillet full of sputtering eggs. She went around the table, neatly plopping two eggs on every plate.

Jax rolled his eyes and slammed his elbows down on the table. “Aww ma, yew know I like mah aigs on m’ beans! Now there’s yolk all over the maize-bread!”

“Land-a-muddlin’ Jax!” Ma put her furry hand on her hip. “Yew done act like I kilt yer best friend. They’s a lot worse thangs happ’nin in thee universe then aigs a’leakin’ on bread!”

“I’m sorry ma. Didn’t mean t’ get yew riled.”

“She’s not riled.” Sister Sal said, cutting a dainty slice of egg with the side of her fork. “She’s worried. Mizz Yogg was telling her about the Coruscant emperor. He’s got six more planets under his belt.”

Brother Muss wrinkled his snubby nose. “Huh? Whadda yew mean, sis?”

“He stole them. Not fair and not square.”

“How do you steal a planet?”

“With a lot of guns.” Puggles grunted through a mouthful of breakfast. Egg yolk glistened in his shaggy beard.

Sally nodded her head. “It’s true. Unfortunately.”

Ma’s yellow eyes flashed with fear. “ Some people is fightin’ back. Mercy. There might be another Clone Wars round thee corner.”

“Ain’t no Jedi left t’ fight um.” Brother Jimbo said, subdued, a sweating beer can held to his forehead. He hadn’t touched his breakfast. The hangover he was fighting demanded some hair-of the bantha first.

Sister Shoog changed the subject. “ I shore wish cuzzin Zeb could stay longer. He’s only got two more days, and he promised to take me to the fair.”

“Cuzzin Zeb never breaks his promises.” Said Muss.

“CuZzIn ZeB NEEEEEVER BreAKs his PrOmiSes. . . Puggles said in a wheedly, exaggerated voice, his face puckered like a dried korbapple.

“Did I hear my name?” Zeb said from the foot of the staircase. He hopped down and entered the kitchen.

Ma beamed. “ Bout’ time yew got up! Sit at the table. I’ll git yer vittles ready. Did you sleep well?”

“I slept like Firuz in his tomb.” Zeb said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of his breakfast. Maybe tomorrow ma would make her special spawffles and needle tree syrup. He was about to tuck his napkin into the front of his shirt when-

“Hey, did you all hear something?”

“ Like what?”

Like bellowing. Sounds like the Lunx’s bull got out of his pen again.”

There was a stamping of feet out on the porch. Older sister Hallie opened the front door and hurried inside. She set her basket of herbs on the table and started to pour herself a cup of caf.

“ Pa’s out in the field and he’s cussin’ up a dust storm. I mean, worse then usual.”

“ Ma clutched her apron. “Goodness child! D’yuh think he’s a’right?”

“I asked him, but he jus’ kept on a hollerin’ and carrying on. I think the tractor musta broke down or sumthin’.”

“Great an’ benev-lent Bearded One.” Ma groaned as she served Zeb his breakfast. “I’m gonna hear ‘bout this til thee end a’ days…Jimbo, Jax, go see what’s goin’ on, woudja dears?”

Jimbo looked up. His yellow-orange eyes were rimmed with red. “ Ma! I jus found out mah girl is courtin’ another he-male! I cain’t take pa’s bellyachin’ right now. I’m too e-moshan-lee com-pree-mized!”

Shoog rolled her eyes.

Ma looked at Jax, who panicked.

“I’m late for mah sparrin’ practice!” The blotch-coated lasat rose from his chair and threw his napkin on his plate.

“Now where’s mah boxin’ gloves at?” Jax ran from the kitchen.

Zeb forked his food between two pieces of maize-bread, making a giant to-go sandwich. He scooted his chair back and grabbed Puggles by his scrawny wrist.

“Let’s go help pa!”

“Help Pa? Is yew crazy? He’ll tie me into a Mon Calamari sailor knot fer intrudin’ on his bad mood!”

“ Not if we solve his problem.”

Pa raged. He pounded on the tractor’s hood and stamped the turf beneath his feet, turning it into a large patch of dark dirt. Gracie sat on her makeshift perch next to the tractor’s seat, grinning and panting, her tongue darting in and out of her mouth. Every time a fist came close she attempted to give it a sloppy kiss.

“ WHAT IN CONSARN-A-SHUN IZ WRONG WID YEW, YEH BLASTED CONTRAPTION!!!???”

“TAR-BUBBLIN’ LAZYBUMP SONNAVA JUGHEADED PLEASURE DROID!!!”

“ POCKMARKED’ PISSENGINE!!

“CHEAP PIECE A’ RUSTED RUIN!!”

“DROIDSON BATTERYDOOKER!!!”

“Do you kiss ma with that mouth?”

Rufus Trodd whirled around. He saw his beloved nephew standing there, smiling, his demeanor as calm as a boodle bug floating on the surface of a still pond.

“She would faint if she heard you cursing like that.”

Pa’s giant mitt batted at the air. “ Aww. Not now Zebidiah. I’m inna awful gaumy stew.”

Puggles stepped out from behind his brave younger cousin.

Looky here pa, I brang yeh a nice cold one! I thanked yew could use it.”

The mammoth lasat grabbed the offered six pack of beer, cracked each can open with machine-like speed and poured six streams of golden brew into his cavernous mouth. He wiped the stray foam from his mane and belched.

“Thanks son. Remind me not t’ call yew an ijit next time yew piss me off.”

Zeb approached the tractor. He ran his hands over three, still-warm engine cowls and sniffed the turbines and jet ports. “What’s going on with her?”

“She were running fine, then all of a sudden, she starts a’shaking and a sputterin’. Den the jets got all quiet-like. How did I blow up three engines? That tiller I’m towin' behind her don’t weigh that much. Hells, I towed a big ol’ howler-barr to thee taxidermist with dis here tractor. ”

Zeb scratched his head. “Was there any smoke?”

Pa thrust out his thick lower lip and tapped one of his fangs. “Now thet I think about it. . . not a hole lot. Jus’ a little puffin’ out from under thee hood.”

“Ah-ha. Pop the hood Puggles.”

The little lasat obeyed and the tractor’s boxy mouth opened with a ‘TUMP’ Zeb raised the hood, looked inside and saw the problem immediately.

“It’s not the engines, pa. It’s your injector cylinder. Are you running super-lean Kashyyk oil in her?”

“Shore as dust I am!”

“Well, it must be clogged with dirt. The guy you bought this from should have changed it before he sold it.”

Pa snorted. “Figures.”

Zeb changed the subject. He patted the old Agri-Hover. You know, inside, these tractors are almost identical to the inside of the tanks in the royal army. They really ARE well made. Let’s pull the injector and Puggles and I will go into town and get a new one.”

Pa looked resigned to his fate of plowing the field by himself. Why did he sell that good team of muley-tauns? They weren’t that long in the tooth.

“Payday’s not fer six more days. I don’ wanna ask ma t’ dip into her savings. She ain’t got that much anyway.”

Zeb grabbed Puggles by the ear and tugged him away’t so pa couldn’t hear.

“I have some extra pay this cycle.” He whispered.

“Must be nice.” Puggles' gold eyes flashed orange. “I cain’t even afford a lil’ teeny-eeny far-cracker or a pack a smokes.”

Zeb crossed his striped arms. “First of all, you shouldn’t be smoking. It’s bad for you. Second, you’re a liar. I know for a fact Hallie gave you credits for cleaning her shed. You put them in your. . . ahem, ‘detonite fund account.’”

The little lasat was incensed. He balled his bony fists and put them up, taking a fighting stance.

“I otta whup the green right outtta yer eyes yuh sucklin’-cub!! Of all thee indig-nitities! Called a larr by m’ little cuzzin!!!! Y’ain’t got the manners of that bitch anoobie over there! Come on, git yer dukes up!”

Zeb rolled his eyes and bit his lip. “ Not again.”

The young lasat was turning out to be a rather large and honorable soldier. One befitting of admiration and praise. How much longer was he going to allow his belligerent cousin to talk to him this way? Zeb sighed. A lasat couldn’t choose his family or the members within, but if he could have chosen, he would have picked what he already had, the hard-working and sometimes crude, spiritual, salt-of -Lasan Trodds.

“Alright you little a-hole. I’m sorry I called you a liar. Do you have any creds you can spare? Any at all?”

Puggles put his fists down. He retrieved a toothpick from his pocket and wedged it between his crooked incisors. He made a sucking sound with his teeth.

“Maybe. . .”

#Zeb Orrilios #star wars fanfic #rebels themed I guess #Puggles trodd #no he ain't dead

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