If I were a Jedi

I haven’t thought much of what would it be of me, if I were a Jedi.

But –

if I were…

I would wear a dark grey tunic with a black robe on top. I would make black the new black on the Jedi Community. I would be so dark and mysterious, Sith Lords will reunite one time to question their current attire, “Should we change to — white and grey, perhaps?” they’d say.

My light saber would be purple — obviously- because I would also master some of the dark arts of the Sith following the steps of the all respected black Master Windu. And also because red are dicks and super out off style with the flow of the universe.

I would only take my light-saber out as last resort in confrontations, though. I won’t be like all those Jedis who turn the light-saber on every-fucking-time the enemy dwells his plasma gun in front of them. No. I would be really patient and deeply in control with myself to avoid taking it out in front of any living organism. Ya’ know why? Because I’d know that the second my light saber is out, things would go extremely south — like immediately.

If, however, I didn’t find the scenario on my mind where the helmet Mandalorian stubborn man wasn’t going to put his plasma gun down after several Jedi’s went all “Please we mean no harm” on him, then — then I would extend my hand mid-waist into the air. Brought the saber to me. And *Pssshhew*, purple would light the room bitches. And man I’d tell you…I would be precise. I would be quick. And I would be effective. No ten swings to take out an enemy. No. It would be two premeditated slashes. One to bounce his plasma shot thrown at me, and a two to slice his hand off. Because I’m a man of peace — ya’ know. And *Ewsshp* light saber off.

I would raise the fucker up with the force, look him into the eyes to show mercy, and *wham* throw him into the wall. Jedi pals would still have their blue-ish and green-ish lightsabers up staring at what just had happened like the little bitches they are. “Gentlemen, please secure the area and strand the man,” I’d say as I’d walk outside the room with a focused mind upon the next duty on the agenda.

People would question how I got to become that cold guy i was. But the mysterious, full-focused, effective attitude didn’t come from nowhere. No. I would have a background story so deep and so dark, you could even make a prequel movie out it:

As a little boy, I would’ve decide to give my whole life to the Jedi Council’s demand. I would offer myself to the missions most Padawan’s Jedi’s wouldn’t like to go to: probably in the outer rim of the galaxy, where the most villain-est and vicious creators dwell in. Everything because I wouldn’t like to become one of those spoiled brat Jedi’s who are more “look at me I’m a Jedi” and less brains and saving life-forms. No. I would go over there without questions asked, and turn from super innocent smiling-all-the-time-preppy-boy to super things-are-fucked-up-in-the-universe, in no time. I would see horrifying things that’d made me question the peaceful weak ways of the light side. And I would also see super serene things that would also made me question the cold hateful ways of the dark side. I would loose some limbs on the way. Maybe a hand. Maybe a whole leg. To get them all replaced with mechanical robotic extensions. I would end so fucked up in mind and body and spirit, I’d have to learn to meditate to control the fears and monsters laying inside of me. Like 4am wake-up nightmares, twice in the night. Those kinda’ fears and monsters.

But after a few years of constant fucked-up missions, I would be called back to the Jedi Temple, because finally transformation camp is over.

Now, back at home I would be one of those disturbed-quiet Jedi’s who keeps to himself but are a living library of empirical experiences. Wise as a motherfucker. Knowing how to bargain with space pirates, deal with merc’s, and looking up-front into the red-eyes any Sith Lord that comes along. Other Jedi’s would panic like “Oh my god what do to do now” when seeing those kinda’ enemies at the door. Not me. Nope. I would be like “You again, motherfucker?” Because I’ve dealt with them before. Many times. And bigger in size.

I would become one of those good guys, evil doers would think like “Yeah, he’s capable of doing that”. And yeah, I would be.

In due time I would slay so many Siths, fucked up so many war-planet-structures, and saved so many lives, that eventually they’d make me the Jedi Master as I always was meant to be, with a seat in the the Jedi Council, as I always was meant to have.

Then people at the temple would look at me in awe-respect as they saw me passing by through the lonely alleys of the Jedi temple on the Courascant planet. They would know I am a Master who protects peace and progress no matter what, with a deep dark fucked-up history behind. They would also know I’d don’t like to socialize, but when I do, I’d be super cool and super wise and mega cynical about every problem anyone tells me about. Because deep down I’d known those aren’t real problems. I had real problems before and, those weren’t it. Nonetheless, I’d treat everyone with the most utter respect and kindness and advice well on all their current tribulations. And then — then I’d stop socializing, wish them “to go with the force”, and head back to my independent-lonely state of mind. And as I would leave, I would hear whispers of amazement, the callings of my name in the corridors of the Temple. The name of one of the most bad-asses Jedi’s who has ever existed in the Jedi history. A name with a hyphen in between something like: Asylo-Templaris.

Master Asylo-Templaris.

After proper time of doing what awesome Masters do: giving advice to the young ones, walking silently in the corridors of the temple, leading men into battle against the enemies of peace and progress, and developing strategic planning worth my value in the seat of the Jedi Council, I would decide to confront my loneliness and head to the next stepping stone of a Jedi’s bucket list: to have a Padawan.

He would be a blue Twi’lek boy from the planet Ryloth. He would be the skinniest underdog there was in the Jedi kindergarten school. I mean, like the guy is so skinny everyone would think he needs to have a sandwich everytime. But what he doesn’t have in muscle and fat he would have in heart. He would have a heart so unique he would naturally come with concepts of being fair, fighting for what’s right, having the best of the morals and all that shit nobody has and society always ignores.

He would first come to me as an insecure boy questioning why any Master would have picked him from the rest to be his Padawan. And specially why a renowned Jedi Master like super awesome mysterious Asylo-Templaris would. Chill, boy, chill. Those are expected questions to have from any insecure boy with no self-esteem who was been bullied just too much at Jedi-school for being too skinny and for wearing some dorky glasses or some stupid shit stupid fat kids bully on. But I wouldn’t mind him coming to me like this. No. Because learning how to stand for yourself, and fighting back to stupid fat kids it’s pretty easy to do and pretty easy to teach. But fighting for the “little man” like he has always done, and choosing what’s right over what’s easy, that — that takes some serious courage and some big balls sacrifice. And this boy would have that. And nobody would have notice it before because people are dipshits and they focus on what’s superficial like “what’s he’s wearing, eww” or “look at his figure, O-M-G”. But not me. Nope. I’d focus on what’s within. What really matters. And that’s why I’ve picked him over anyone else…

I guess I can thank the force for that.

We’d build great trust among us as we go along. He would have the openness to tell me about his attachment with other galactic gals, not because I support attachments as the council strictly opposes to, but because I know if he doesn’t trust me, some Dark Sith Lord will come all persuasive on his ass and say some blasphemy shit like “Join the Dark Side and you can have all the love from those girls who don’t love you back”. Yeah, total bullshit, man. Then he’d go and be filled with hate because the Jedi’s don’t let him have that particular girlfriend he wants, and his eyes would turn dark yellowish-red and he’d go totally berserk and probably murder half a dozen planets before I’d have to put him down. So, no. There will be trust among us and I would explain to him why it requires a big fucking sacrifice to choose the Jedi path over anything and anyone. And specially about how chicks can make you do some stupid shit like murdering Jedi infants, or worst: murdering your Master — yeah I wouldn’t want that. So, no. There will be a big trust amongst us, and I would be next to him no matter what because he would be like a son to me. Shit, I would even stand right there next to him if he’d ask me to be the best man at his secret wedding at some nice Villa in Naboo marrying some hot senator lady — no questions asked. Not only because he becomes an easy target for a Sith Lord to take him to his side all-trained and ready. Nope. But because I would know, we would have built properly his moral structure to choose wisely what’s best for life in the universe, over what’s best for him in his life.

So at first, people on the temple would respect this skinny lad because he would walk next to me and well, ya’ know — anyone wouldn’t even dare to think of bullying Master Templaris’ blue little Padawan. No. But as he grows older, buffer and stronger people would respect him for what he has become: a kind and just Jedi, and a deadly prodigy in the ways of dual hands lightsabers. He would become something as Steve Roger’s Captain America — but Jedi. Only he would be pretty good with the ladies too. To be precise, he would grow to be just like the role model I’ve always wanted him to be: as my good friend Master Kenobi; making my Padawan, the second blue-wielder Jedi I would deeply respect on the list. For their kindness. Their wisdom. And their awesome sense of humor.

As the years pass by between adventures and teachings, the time will come when I’d have to let go of my student, and see him build himself into one of the best Jedi Masters there is.

He will lead men into victories in battles in galaxies far far away, and he will deal with galactic tyrants to ruins. He will be so good, I will have so many spare time now, I would have the time and mind to fight in the place where the Jedis are the weakest: in Politics.

I would head to the Senate with Master Yoda — because high rank Jedi’s should participate in politics — to persuade the dipshit politicians of the Republic into voting for democracy, peace and progress and not clone armies and destruction — duh. And specially to protect democracy from gullible good-doers like fucking Senator Amidala to make the most fucking vicious Sith Lord in the galaxy, the Supreme fucking Chancellor of the whole fucking Republic!

Yeah that too.

Eventually I would become so good at Politics. I would spot the evil do-ers like Senator Palpatine (who is Darth Sidious — for those who don’t know) from miles, miles away. But I wouldn’t rat on him right away, nor point any fingers. No, no, no, no . I would use his cover-up and his strategy against him: I would make up fake plans, so he goes off and mis-leads his whole Separatist Army with fake information into empty battlefields, while the Jedis and the Republic Army are actually attacking their un-defended main bases. Then I would go like “I’m sorry your excellency, I thought we were doing that plan before, but things changed and, huh, we headed elsewhere on the last minute. The secret attack –however- was a huge success.” He would be so angry thinking I’m a dipshit, I would go like “I’m sorry for the change of plans you excellency, I’t wont happen again.” But it would. I would do this so many times he would try to take me out of the Jedi Council and the Senate for negligence and remarkable stupidity. And then, when he finally knows that I know who he truly is, then — I would head to his office and walk non-stop straight to him. “What brings you here Master Asylo-Templaris,” he’d say. But I won’t answer back. No. I would keep walking straight to him. Hand to air, mid-waist. Light-saber to hand. And *Pssshhew*. The fight will last five slashes. One, to pull out his red light-saber to stop mine from separating off his head — our light-sabers would meet *Tssshhh*. Two, to defend myself from his counter attack — *Tssshhh*. Three, I would do a one-eighty-degrees and protect myself with my saber on my back — *Tssshhh*. Four, I would do another one-eighty and go for his legs but he will block it downwards — *Tssshhh*. And then — then, five… I would use the most guarded secret I behold the most of my own: My light saber is a double-bladed light saber. Surprise, mother f— *Pshhh* I would cross his heart with the other side of my light-saber. And *Ewsshp* light-sabers off.

He would drop his weapon short on breath, and kneel down. I would throw his weapon to the other side of the room because you’re never to sure. And then I would help him lay down on the floor because I don’t hold anger or hate towards him. No. First, because the light side rules. And second, because I know behind every dipshit in the universe, there is a misguided soul that someone has made him the dipshit he is. Circumstances have made him a monster.

But as he lays down on the floor, with a hole in his chest, I’ll wait for his last breath to come, to give him the wisest and most encouraging words anyone can give to you… And also because I don’t want some Sith friend to find him almost dead, resurrect him, and then give him a black armor suit so he can go on and destroy the other half of the galaxy while he has a scary deep breath and a surround-sound voice. No. I will wait ‘till the motherfucker is really dead-as-a-stick to leave the room.

Ok, here it comes. The last breath. Now it’s time to say the words.

“May the force —be with you.”

And I’ll leave the room to the next task on the agenda.