AFESS: A Night at the Cantina

Action Figures Each Sold Separately is stories based on scenarios from 80s toy commercials. This story is about Responsibility

Hey First Check out the YouTube link for the toy commercial then enjoy the story! It’s all part of the fun!

http://youtu.be/fkjs14kDHYY

                                 A Night at the Cantina

“Naga Maroo.”

Han Solo turned to the slender headed Ithorian and furrowed his brow.  “What?”

“Naga Maroo” the Ithorian said again.

When  the smuggler’s face turned he could get the full effect of the foul stench emanating from the alien’s mouth.  It was a combination of the swill the Catina’s bartender was serving tonight, vomit, and for a moment Han could smell the sweet smell of regret.  Of course he wasn’t sure if that was coming from the alien or from himself.  

“Slow down Hammerhead you’re drunk.”

The Ithorian staggered back and growled.  “I am not.” he managed in the basic tongue.  “Naga Maroo, means.” his long slender face fell.   He pondered for a moment and then shook his head. “No you’re right, I am drunk.”  he took another drink.  ‘Hey you know it hurts my feelings when you call me Hammerhead.”

“It’s your name right?”

“No it’s not my name.  It’s the same if I called Pruneface.”

“Well I never.” cried out a Dressellian as he stood from the bar.  His face was round and well prunish, and apparently it was a rough spot for him.  ‘I thought this cantina would be at least more tolerant.”

“No, no, no.” Hammerhead tried to defend himself and pointing at Han. “I was saying if I was calling him Pruneface.”

The Dressellian shook his head.  “Maybe you shouldn’t call anyone names.” he said as he walked out of the bar.

Hammerhead was flabbergasted.  “That was my point.”

Han chuckled at that and reached to pay his bar tab.  He had his fill for the night, and needed to get back to the Falcon.  Maybe Chewbacca had finished calling his wife back on Kashyyyk, and hopefully this time he wasn’t crying.

 Han didn’t understand the Wookie culture, he was glad he had saved Chewbacca from slavery but didn’t realize he was going to have weepy Wookie hanging out with him.  Have you ever smelled a  Wookie when it was wet?  That was a smell that lingers, you never get out of your nostrils.  Han shuddered at how much of his operating cost went to air fresheners.  Though he did like the smell of Alderaanian Pine.

Hammerhead slapped Han on the back, and looked at the bar tender.  “Shots, line them up!”

Han shook his head. “No buddy, I’m out for the night.  Got an early morning, got some cargo to get to core.”

Hammerhead shook his head.  “No!  Now!”

Han rolled his eyes.  “No I have to go.”

The Ithorian stood up, and his bar stool tumbled to the ground. He meant business, his nostrils flared and his body posture was such that Han knew if he didn’t accept the challenge, something was about to go down.

Han looked to the tender and they exchanged knowing glances.  Han turned his full attention to the Ithorian.  “You win Hammerhead.”

The Ithorian took the first shot, Han then took his.  The Ithorian took another, Han took his second.  When the Ithorian took his third, he wobbled but didn’t fall.  Han smiled and knew he had him as he pounded his third shot.  Hammerhead could barely see straight, Han had to help his hand to the shot glass and finally the Ithorian drank.  He carefully placed the glass on the bar top, gave Han a salute, and collapsed onto the floor.

“Got you Hammerhead!” Han laughed.  He grinned at the bartender. “Hammerhead has got my tab tonight.” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit chip.  “This is for you, thanks for the water.”

The tender caught the measly one credit tip.  He smiled and nodded, but what he wanted to say was ‘You’re welcome and now enjoy sitting on the space toilet.” he sure didn’t trust the water from Tatooine.  It was made of the moisture that he could imagine came from Bantha farts.  Of course he would be the first to admit he was no scientist, he went to college and got himself a fancy bar tending degree.  Sometimes he would long for those lost college days.   It was the best two weeks correspondence course of his life.

Han walked over the Ithorian’s body and was headed out the door when Greedo walked in.  Han sighed.  “I told you not to follow me Greedo!”

Greedo pulled out his pistol and ushered Han to a nearby table.  “You owe us money Han Solo!”

“For what?”

“You got my sister pregnant.”

“I did not, Rodian’s and Humans can’t have children, it is impossible.”

“Still you owe us money.”

“For what?”

“You broke my sister’s heart. You don’t understand how much a therapist costs here on Tatooine.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

Greedo aimed the pistol directly at the smuggler.  “I believe it does.”

A laser blast flew from under the table blasting Greedo.  He collapsed to the floor, rolled over revealed a black, smoldering hole in his chest.  It was clear this would be Greedo’s last shakedown.

Han stood up and holstered his blaster.  ‘You’re not going to collect this time.”

He turned to see the whole Catina looking at him.  Human and strange alien alike just staring at him if they had jaws, they were dropped.  Han blinked, he thought these things just happened in bars. You know drunken Ithorians, dead Rodians, it’s a party right?  He could tell that maybe this wasn’t going so well for him.  Maybe murder was a real thing in Tatooine?  Han had to come up with something quick.

“Didn’t pay his tab!”

Once the bar patrons heard this they reached into their pockets and started bombarding the bartender.    Han slipped out during the chaos, glanced back once more and smiled.  “What a weird place.”