Obi-wan Kenobi shut the oven door carefully, and set his chrono to go off in 20 standard minutes. It was his Padawan, Anakin's tenth birthday and Obi-wan was backing a cake in his honor.

The newly minted Jedi Knight smiled with uncharacteristic greed as his eyes landed on the mixing bowl and spoon that were still covered in the remnants of the cake batter. At last he would enjoy the chocolately, gooey goodness of uncooked cake batter. In all of his twenty-six birthdays, he had never experienced it.

His first thirteen birthdays, the crèche master would bake a cake to honor a Youngling's birthday. And, of course, the Master would never dream of letting one of her Younglings near the possibly salmonella-tainted cake batter—the Force forbid such a thought! Obi-wan had only heard rumors this tasty treat from other, less rule-abiding Younglings.

On his fourteenth birthday, Obi-wan had thought he might get to at least sample this exotic delicacy—Qui-gon Jinn had seemed much more relaxed about bacteria than the crèche master had been. Obi-wan had hardly been able to pay attention in his classes that day as he anticipated tasting cake batter for the first time in his life.

After what seemed like a standard year, Obi-wan's last class had finally ended, and he had ran as fast as his ever-elongating legs would take him towards his and Qui-gon's quarters—nearly trampling over Master Yoda, and running straight into Master Windu as he did so. He got a milder than usual lector from the two Council members, as they cited his birthday and the cake and presents awaiting him as the reason for his unruliness.

When Obi-wan had arrived to their rooms, he had found a small mound of beautifully wrapped presents and a carefully prepared chocolate birthday cake awaiting him along with his Master—but much to his chagrin, all the mixing bowls and cooking utensils had been cleaned and just as carefully put away.

Obi-wan had expressed his heartfelt disappointment to his Master, who reminded him with an unreadable expression that as a Jedi, he must have patience.

Two standard months later, young Obi-wan had returned the favor by baking his Master a large cake. Though his clumsy fourteen-year-old body was unable to make the cake as beautiful as Qui-gon had made his, he felt it would taste just as yummy. As he carefully placed the cake pan in the oven, his hands nearly shook with anticipation—his Master was still asleep! He would soon revel in the gooey and delicious taste of cake batter! He had gotten a bit on his hands during the mixing and had licked it off. The small taste of it had only heightened Obi-wan's desire for the uncooked substance.

But as the fourteen-year-old Padawan had turned away from the oven, he had caught a glimpse of Qui-gon's not-yet graying brown hair and his ever-so-bizarre Gungan pajamas leaving the kitchen. In horror, Obi-wan had turned to the countertop where he had left the mixing bowling and spoon. With a cry of despair, he saw that they were gone, and knew it was highly unlikely his Master would return them before they were licked clean.

It had been this way every year of his thirteen-year-long apprenticeship with Qui-gon Jinn. Oh, Obi-wan tried to outsmart his Master each year. There had been several years when Obi-wan had tried skipping his two classes to try to commandeer the cake batter from Qui-gon, but somehow Yoda and Mace Windu had always intercepted him a few doors away from his and Qui-gon's quarters. Why exactly they always seemed to be hanging out in their wing of the Temple on Obi-wan's birthday had always been a mystery to him. But he didn't care—the cake batter was all that mattered!

With a manic grin, Obi-wan approached the bowl and spoon. In a moment that he would later ponder in mediation of his darker side, he thanked Darth Maul. Qui-gon was no longer here, and could not steal his precious cake batter! Obi-wan stuck out his tongue as he prepared to slide it slowly along the batter-covered metal spoon that slowly approached his mouth…

BUZZZZZZZZZ!!!

Obi-wan jumped about a meter into the air, the spoon falling out of his hand and into the bowl with a metal clang. He scowled. It had better not be Anakin—the boy was to be in his classes, birthday or no birthday! Besides, Anakin ate everything in sight, and Obi-wan had no illusion that even if Anakin had never heard of cake batter on the slime pit that was Tatooine, that it would nonetheless be gone in thirty seconds if he were to lay his greedy eyes on it.

Grumbling, Obi-wan made his way to the door of the apartment, and realized that it couldn't possibly be Anakin. For one thing, Anakin was quite capable of entering even if the door was locked, as it was his home as much as it was Obi-wan's. Second, it was not the presence of an undisciplined, ten-year-old Padawan that he sensed behind the door, but that of Grand Master Jedi Yoda and Jedi Master Mace Windu.

Obi-wan pushed the controls on the door and started to bow in a respectful greeting, but instead found himself sitting on his bottom on the floor of his own apartment. What the Sith…? Obi-wan thought. "Master Yoda…Master Windu…?" He asked, stretching out with the Force. It was them alright, and they were in…

THE KITCHEN!

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!" Obi-wan dashed back into the kitchen, and nearly burst into tears at the sight before him. Mace Windu had the mixing spoon in his hand, and was licking it with his eyes closed and blissful expression on his face. Yoda, on the other hand, had abandoned all semblance of Jedi dignity and had his face in the mixing bowl, licking it with great abandon.

"Master Yoda! Master Windu! Why?" Obi-wan nearly sobbed. "I was going to lick those! Master Qui-gon never let me before!"

Yoda looked up from the bowl, his face covered in dark brown goo. "Make cake on your birthday, your Padawan will. If quick, lick cake batter you will! Hehehe. Padawans we have not, make sacrifices for your elders, you must, as your Master before you did! Hehehe!"

Obi-wan moaned in despair. It would seem that Qui-gon had not enjoyed cake batter on Obi-wan's birthdays after all. These two insane Jedi Masters had apparently outsmarted Qui-gon each year as much as Qui-gon had outsmarted Obi-wan on his birthday. He sighed and turned to the small calendar that Anakin had hung in the kitchen—the pictures in it were a curious topic. Obi-wan could not fathom why Anakin would want a calendar featuring politicians of the Republic, but Anakin had told him in a rather sly tone that it had been all he could afford with the pocket money Obi-wan had provided him. He flipped the calendar from the current month—which curiously featured Queen Amidala—and turned to his own birth-month, which featured the now-disposed Chancellor Valorum. He sighed. Four months, and seventeen days. Anakin would not be tasting any cake batter until he got his own apprentice, that was for certain!

11 Years Later

Anakin Skywalker felt an excitement that rivaled the moments when he knew he would soon see Padmé. At last, he would find out what this whole cake batter thing was about. Padmé had told him of its glories, but had sadly never prepared a cake for his own birthday, as he had always seemed to be away when it came around. But now he had Ahsoka for his Padawan, and he would finally taste that which Obi-wan had been depriving him of all these years.

He grinned as he lifted the metal spoon towards his mouth, not intending to wait a single moment before tasting the gooey delight. He closed his eyes…

And ended up with a mouthful of his own fist. What the…?

He opened his eyes, and found a grinning Obi-wan standing at the door, happily licking Anakin's spoon. "Ha! At least Mace won't get any this time. Yoda's just disgusting though." Humming a cheerful little tune, Obi-wan left Anakin's quarters—but not before dodging a small, green alien.