•••

Joe was just about to reach for his current favorite bottle of something strong when he was struck behind the knees. Since he hadn't actually reached the booze yet, Joe was able to catch himself on a nearby chair and land softly in it instead of on the floor.

"Who the fuck're you?" He growled at what looked to be a dehydrated muppet. "Nevermind. WHAT the fuck are you?"

The thing bobbed its head, a smirk appearing on its face. In one hand was the staff that hit Joe's legs; in the other was a small cloth bag. The bag matched the thing's clothes--a sackcloth tunic of sorts. "Master Yoda, I am. Ignore me, you should not."

"Or what, you'll attack my knees again?" Joe snarled, standing back up. "How the hell did you get in here? And where'd you get that costume?"

"Costume?" Yoda queried, looking up at Joe. "I am as I am. Your hair is more the costume, yes?"

"At least I have hair," Joe muttered. "You've got a four-hair combover that's not covering... look, are you moldy? Looking kinda wrinkly and...green." Joe found himself reminded of soggy, ancient pizza crust. And Pipe's toes after a really long concert.

The diminutive creature appeared to frown. "When seven hundred years old you reach, look this good you will not!"

Joe rolled his eyes. "When seven hundred years old I reach, dead I will be, dumbass; I'm not looking to make forty. Look, was there something you needed, or can I go ahead and kick your ass?"

This time Yoda chuckled. "Best me, you cannot."

"Wanna bet?" /Fucking short people with their goddamned inferiority complexes./

"Wagers lay not on the path of the Jedi," Yoda began, ignoring Joe's bored yawn, "But the Jedi path, away from it I have wandered. The path of Amway forbids not such endeavors. So, young Joe... Spar we shall!"

"You gonna shut up, or talk me to death?" Joe asked absently. "Coz if it's talking, I'm getting drunk now."

"If my ass you kick, the victor you shall be. If it is I who top you, mine your ass is," Yoda finished. Joe waved his assent and reached over to smack the shit out of the strange, short dude.

•••

Billy looked up from tuning his guitar just in time to see Joe walk gingerly onto the stage. The man looked exhausted and sore, like he'd been ridden hard and put away wet. "Fun night?" He asked, smirking around a pick.

"Fuck you," Joe spat, reaching for the bottle of something or another Billy kept in his guitar case. Billy was going to keep after Joe, but Pipe stepped out of the shadows.

"Eh, Joe? Some short bald dude stopped by an hour ago," Pipe said, wincing at the obvious pain on Joe's face as their lead singer tried to sit down. "Left this for you," He added, holding out a huge, suspiciously phallic-shaped and cloth-covered object.

Joe glared at the proffered cloth bag as though it might bite him. When Billy began to show an interest in it, however, Joe took the thing and stalked off, swearing under his breath. Every few steps, the man shifted and twitched.

Billy and Pipe somehow managed to wait til Joe was gone before falling on their asses laughing.

Back in the shadows, Yoda smirked.