TITLE: A Trip To Wal-Mart
AUTHOR: Katrin
RATING: PG
PAIRING: Wedge/Iella
SUMMARY: Iella's pregnant. Wedge tries to help.
DISCLAIMER: None of 'em are mine, unfortunately. Please don't sue me, anyone.
RESPONSE TO CHALLENGE: Must be at least 500 words and not more than 2000 words, in Wedge's POV, include chocolate, a reference to Wal-Mart, and the line "Pretty, what do we blow up first?".
BLATANT PLUG: www.angelfire.com/scifi/faceandphanan
ARCHIVE: My site, if I get around to putting it up, and WAAS
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I was bored. I wrote. Enjoy. Or don't, but both you and I will like it if you do.

So there I was, hunched over my desk, doing my paperwork without Ackbar having to yell at me for the first time in… well, for the first time, when my seven-months pregnant wife barges into my office, grabs my arm, hauls me to my feet, and practically yells, “Wedge, you have to go to the mall!”

“What?” I yelped – her nails were digging into me.

“You have to go to the mall, Wedge. I need chocolate. More specifically, I need a chocolate and mustard sandwich on rye. We have rye bread. We have mustard. We don’t have chocolate. Go buy me chocolate,” she demanded.

I love Iella. She’s my wife, and she means more to me than anything else. But, damn, can she be pushy!

So, of course, I had to go. If Iella’s pregnancy taught me one thing, it’s DON’T argue with your pregnant wife. It’s a bad idea all around. She’ll probably yell at you, and if she doesn’t, she’ll probably cry. Not a good thing.

Another thing I’ve learned is, don’t go to the mall alone. It’s a frightening, frightening place. Dogfights don’t scare me, but shopping does. Hey, I’m human. I’m allowed to have fears. After all, Tycho’s scared of clow—um, let’s not go there.

So I called up my good friend Janson. He still owes me one from that whole Lieutenant Kettch fiasco… and I can blackmail him. After he’d, uh, carefully considered his options, he decided that going with me was probably in his best interests.

And that’s the series of events that brought Janson and me to Wal-Mart. Yes, there’s a Wal-Mart on Coruscant. It’s one of the most pervasive corporations in the universe; almost to the level of Coke or McDonalds.

We walked into the store – well, I walked; Janson swaggered. The moment we were inside we stopped short. It was … the epitome of what I thought a shopping mall should be. The epitome of my greatest fear.

Janson felt the same thing I did. His mouth dropped, and then he whispered, “Pretty, what do we blow up first?”

I had to concur. It was so… garish. The colours were bright and overwhelming, and everywhere you looked were people in blue aprons with large smiles pasted on their faces. They were like zombies, almost. I think I might have shivered. “Let’s just find some chocolate and get out,” I hissed to Janson.

He nodded, almost in a daze. “Where’s the chocolate?” he asked in a whisper.

I glanced around. There was none in my eyeshot. It seemed we’d either have to look around, or ask one of the blue-aproned-zombies. As loath as I was to spend any more time there than was absolutely necessary, anything was preferable to talking to one of them.

“Do we split up or look together?” I asked back.

“I’m your wing,” Janson replied.

So there we were, wandering somewhat aimlessly in search of chocolate in the dreaded Wal-Mart when I heard a female voice behind me say, “Isn’t that Wedge Antilles?”

And I looked back. Stars help me, I actually looked back.

Janson, the dummy, looked back, too. “It is Wedge Antilles!” screamed another female. “And that’s Wes Janson!”

Janson and I exchanged a glance, then started running.

I have to admit, I’m afraid of pilot groupies. Those women (and some men) that have a thing for any and all pilots… they scare me almost as much as shopping does. So I ran Perhaps it was the cowardly thing to do, but it was also the thing that kept my underwear from being torn off me.

And of course, it was then we spotted the chocolate.

“Wedge, grab it!” Janson yelled at me over the sound of the mob pursuing us.

I snatched up a bag without breaking my stride. I then dug through the pockets of my trousers – yes, occasionally I wear things other than orange flightsuits – and pulled out some credits. I had no idea how much it was, but I threw it at the nearest of the blue aprons. “Have a nice day, sir!” he called after me.

Janson and I made it to the hovercar barely ahead of the mob. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” I yelled as he got into the driver’s seat.

And somehow the Force was with us enough to get us home. “Thanks for the lift, Janson,” I called as I got out of the hovercar.

“Wedge, I am never going anywhere with you again!” he yelled back as he sped off.

So I got inside. “I got your chocolate, Iella,” I said wearily.

“Huh? Oh, thanks, honey, but I found some. Now would you mind getting me some pickled beets?”

I sighed. “Of course, honey.”

Maybe Hobbie would be willing to go to Safeway with me…