Unforseen Consequences

The food has been very restless lately. The events I am going to relate have made me spend some time thinking about actions and consequences. Sometimes, one of our actions can set off a chain of events that will carry on further than we at first anticipated.

I have received a few interesting visits these days. A few days ago, some floating box threw down a sacrificial Jawa at me. It was rather unexpected, and very welcome. It struggled frantically, as they always do, but made its way down my maw very cleanly.

There were cheers coming from the box, and one of its occupants made a curious comment:

“Wait for it, this is gonna be the easiest million credits we’ve ever made!”

Credits. I became familiar with the concept of money a long time ago. The idea of some token with which the food exchanged junk with one another seemed rather amusing. Ever since, I’ve been wondering what the going rate of a dozen Jawas could be.

Well, for some reason the food thought their actions would bring them a considerable sum of money, so I concluded that reversing the roles would possibly make me receive it; after that, it’d be a matter of finding a suitable food that would barter for the goods I wanted. So, with that in mind, I spat the Jawa back at the box, and the whole lot of them (Jawa, box, and its occupants) went up in flames as the thermal detonators they had attached to the Jawa exploded.

I never got the million credits, however.

The day after, some other food came and gave me a barrage of blaster shots, trying to kill me apparently. They sting like crazy though, so I was rather irritated, to the point that I half-burrowed while only leaving a couple of limp, useless tentacles behind.

“I think it’s dead.”

They shot some more at my tentacles, but I couldn’t move them.

“It’s not moving. Let’s go get its head, the bounty is ours!”

Now that made no sense. Or rather, it did from a food-thinking point of view, but not from that of an intelligent being. There was a price on my head. But here’s the killer: I don’t have a head.

Regardless, I couldn’t move the tentacles… because I wanted the food to take the bait and come closer. After they did, I got their heads and laid quietly on the sand, letting it soothe the stinging burns of their blasters. How uncivilized of them.

And the day after that, some other food came and doused me with some liquid and set it on fire. It was surprisingly hot, very relaxing. It seemed like a very useful kind of liquid to have, so I tested its use by lashing out with my tentacles to splash the food that had doused me with it. The results were mighty amusing.

I have to grudgingly admit that the food can be quite creative sometimes. Not very smart, but creative nonetheless.

After that last flaming one, the food left me alone for good. Or so I thought, until yesterday a curious visitor came. I heard the conversation between it and its companion as they came closer, walking slowly on the sand.

“I’m telling you, it don’t matter none how high you set the bounty, noone’s coming back to mess with this thing after what’s happened with the other bounty hunters!”

“I will not rest until that thing is dead! You hear me? Dead!”

“Whatever made you think that…”

“It ate my friends! I told them they were being stupid with all this cult of the Sarlacc thing, but they wouldn’t listen, and that monster ate them all!”

“Yer friends were those nutcase cultists? They had it comi…”

Their conversation was interrupted by a quick series of blaster shots that silenced the latter food. Interesting, apparently there were still some of my “followers” out in the wild. I thought I just had to wait and…

“You hear me you bloody monster? I’m gonna blow you to bits! You can’t reach here can you? But I can reach you!”

This food at least possessed some powers of observation, it was standing beyond the reach of my tentacles and too far for me to collapse the walls of my home to trap it. Only one thing to do. I searched my stomach and, with a loud rumble, spat a ball of food composed of some of my former “followers,” making it land just at the edge of my reach.

The fresh food gasped audibly but did not get any closer. I gargled and spat another, same distance. It started cursing me, but didn’t get any closer. I tried a few more times.

The food was in quite a state by then, but still maintained its distance. You may think that I was just wasting food trying to lure in the new prey.

But you would be wrong.

See, the primary purpose was not just to lure in the new food. True, it would have been an acceptable outcome, but ultimately the problem was that I was just too full.

No, not too full to eat more.

A Sarlacc is never too full for a new meal. If a Sarlacc tells you that, he’s just gunning for you to become his next meal, as fast as possible.

Then again, that is what a Sarlacc always aims for, by definition.

Going back to the issue at hand, the problem was that I was too full to properly maneuver under the sand. My body is much larger than most foods realize, since they do not get to see it buried under the sand. But when there is enough room, I can simply squash myself down to disturb the sand on the surface.

Disturb as in collapse. A larger collapse than most foods get to see.

A collapse large enough to trap the fresh food, and recover the partly digested ones. It was a most touching reunion party inside my stomach.

So, as I was saying in the beginning, I do not think the food predicted that the ultimate consequence of its actions would be to spend the next millennium inside my stomach.

They never do.

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