As Yoda sat on a tree stump, perfectly force-carved to complement his bony exterior and knobby joints, he realized that it had been five days in a row now that he had sat on this tree stump.
I couldn’t cut my hair (I’m no sheep) and I sure as hell couldn’t change my love of the Houston Astros.
Yoda sat atop the wreckage of his escape pod, still creaking from skidding into the murky swamp hours prior
Previously on... Episode 1: "The Landing"
Yoda had nothing with him other than the clothes on his back and the debris inside of the pod. There was no need for anything else. He had left his
“Hm,” Yoda grunted, considering the foyer, it’s openness, how exposed he was, and what he could do about it. “Hm,” he grunted again.
“Foresee this, I did not,” Yoda commiserated. But he knew what he had to do. He just didn’t know if he could do it.
The top of Yoda’s house looked like it had been splattered with molded yogurt. There was an allure to it. Like, had he intended to paint it this odd assortment of colors, he would be proud of it.