The Foldalorian

Chapter One: The Mysterious Class Pet 

By Superfolder SLS 

 

Prelude (again)
It’s I, the Mandafoldian, also known as Charlie Keating, yet again. Call me the Mandafoldian, or my newer bounty hunter name. You’re a stranger, and I prefer it remains that way. Be formal around me, alright? Alright.

It’s been two years since sixth grade, 2017, and the year of the Edu-Fun empire’s destruction. The school was pretty much saved, and the McQuarrie Middle crew lived good lives from then on, and it continued way after their middle school years ended—but that story’s not mine, and you definitely wanna hear mine. 

Anyhow, presently there’s a really big bounty on the market—for an unknown target. The Fold Republic is offering a really big reward for it: rare origami instructions. 

Let me just say, it’s hard to get instructions for origami around this school nowadays. Some people really exaggerate these times, though. Sure, they managed to move all known instructions and even traces of an origami Yoda’s existence off the whole Internet, but most of the other stuff people say the Fold Republic did is false—which is real bad. 

Listen up here: if one empire falls, and then a worse one rises, and most of the stuff it promises to restore never happens or gets done really slowly, you have chaos. Completely and utter chaos. 

In this chaos, bounty hunters rise. 

Including me. The Foldalorian. 

It’s time for a makeover (not in a girlish way). 

 

The Girl 

Every bounty hunter in the McQuarrie Middle School Official Bounty Hunting Guild knew about the new mystery asset, but no one knew who or what it was. To get coordinates for where the asset was located in the school, though, papa Foldalorian over here needed to go on a side bounty hunting mission. 

First, though, a nice drink with my friend, whose name will remain unknown for goodness sake. It seems like that Lomax kid (now in 10th grade) would just allow people’s names in his case files, with or without their permission. 

“The Mandafoldian!” one of the students said as I entered the cafeteria. 

“Woah, woah, guys, I have a new name now,” I announced. “The Foldalorian. Don’t tell the big guys, though.” 

Everyone laughed, and some nodded. 

I walked over to the lunch line, and told Lunchman Jeff my order. “Also, chocolate milk. Two straws. No carrots, please. One plum. Can I have some of that sloppy-looking mac and cheese, ooooohhhh! Some chicken, too. Thanks.” 

I sat down, across from my friend. 

“Hey, Ch—I mean, Foldalorian,” she greeted me.

“Hey, C—I mean, uh, Weapon-Master.” 

She giggled.

 “What? Everyone calls me that? Why can’t I call you something that you’re known f—” 

She got serious. “Listen, dude. I have a bit of information on the asset. Apparently slimy, carries a whole bunch of information relating to the Fold Republic, and pink. You can’t touch it, or else it’ll die. They don’t want it to get into the right hands, too—get it, because they’re corrupt—and everyone, of course, knows they’ll pay handsomely with something you and others really want: origami instructions. Of course, they’re not origami Yoda instructions. If they give that away to basically anyone, balance would be restored, right?” 

I nodded. 

“Well, that’s it,” she said, finished with her talk. “Oh, two straws? That’s, um, interesting. I like it.” 

I blushed. Maybe it was a bit too revealing, because right after, she said, “Listen, man, we’re just friends, and one of us happens to provide the other weapons.” 

She took the other straw out. Her straw. 

I started to feel sad, but then she gave me a couple pieces of rock candy. “Use it wisely. Put it in your Nerf blaster, and hurry! Hurry! Before the Fold Republic comes on a patrol!” 

I took them and left, saddened. 

 

New Intel On The Asset (which turned out to be pretty lame…) 

I was on the desert planet known as Maseec, in a cantina located in the small providence of Ruum. Just joking, I was in the music room. A big, hollow opera space. 

All the seats were empty, and no one was even practicing music when I was in there. No wonder their performances are always so bad. Except for Zack Martin and his small gang of troublemakers and people who actually DO know karate. Just joking, all they know is how to push someone’s head into a wall. They’re dumb. 

Now, I wasn’t looking for Zack Martin, and definitely didn’t wanna get into trouble with him. But! I had to deal with him and his friends, I guess…I stepped closer… 

“Hey, aren’t you that Mandafoldian kid?” Zack said. 

“Yeah. I, uh, I’m looking for my boss. Leader of the McQuarrie Guild of…um…I’m just looking for Jerry. Can you get me to him…?” 

Zack stared cold and hard at me. Well, you’re probably wondering, “FOLDALORIAN, WHY IS ZACK STILL IN MCQUARRIE?” The answer is, he’s been in eight grade for three years. He’s especially dumb, let me just say that. Or else I’d have to get into a long speech about it. 

Zack and his friends cornered me like stormtroopers as I walked to the back of the rows and rows of seats with them—and then I saw someone. About Zack’s age when he was actually in eighth grade, so basically, my age. It wasn’t my boss, Jerry, who is the leader of the guild. It was a mysterious client. 

“Cha—Foldalorian, I’ve heard that you’re the best in the school. D. Struction’s gone. Campbell’s gone, at least the evil version of him. No more bounty hunters…but you. Oh, and a few guys with origami IG units. And then maybe another one or two guys without origami IG units—but let’s get back to the topic at hand. There’s this target who carries very important—um—stuff to the Fold Republic, and we need you to get it for us. He’s smily, pink, and is worth rare origami instructions. If you get me the asset, I’ll pay you up with those instructions. Promise, though, to never, ever, ever show it to anyone. Ever.” 

I nodded. 

“I’ll give you a bit of new information on it, too,” he said. 

I got excited. “Do tell, do tell, do tell!” I said, literally jumping up and down. 

“Only the age, though. Aaaaaand I’ll give you a modified compass, both free and from us at the Fold Republic, that leads directly in the asset’s direction, wherever you go.” 

My jaw dropped. “C’mon, can you at least describe the uh? Yeah, yeah, probably a very sloppy eater, emits a lot of saliva, and very pink. I get it. Please, though…more?” 

“No,” the client replied. I was gonna say something else, but he cut me off. “It’s 15.” 

I looked confused. “It can’t be Zack, right? I know that he’s 15, but he’s really pasty, not at all a pink color, skin tone-wise—” 

“We’ve got you cornered, dude, four to one,” Zack commented in an aggressive voice. 

I pulled out my Nerf N-Strike model jolt blaster, which was full of pulled-off bits and chunks of that hard rock candy stuff; sweet to eat but hard to the stomach—both if you actually do eat it and if someone throws it at you via Nerf blaster. “Well, Mr. Martin, I can bring you in hot…or cold,” I said. “No, seriously. If you wanna get shot with rock candy, do you want me to fill the blaster up with chilled water, or just no water at all?” 

He smiled. “Thanks for asking. I’d like chilled, if you’re wondering.” 

His face turned into a huge scowl again. “NOW BE MY DEAD MEAT!” 

I was actually a bit scared—I backed away. The client gave Zack some type of signal, and he backed away. 

“You have all of lunchtime to get the job done, Foldalorian. Now go. The bell’s about to ring.” 

 

Biology Class, A.K.A. Driving School For Eighth Grade Bounty Hunters 

The class right before lunch. Biology. As I entered the room, it was completely empty. The teacher, Mr. Ridneor (nobody knows his last name), was seemingly waiting for me, sitting on a student’s desk. 

“Uh…Mr. Ridneor…where is everyone?” I asked. 

“Well, Charles Ridneor Keating, they’re all viewing a play by the sixth graders. Alice in Wonderland. Y’know, that Claire girl made a pretty believable Alice.” 

I thought of…her…no, I gotta focus. I really gotta focus. 

“I left a few minutes ago from the music room to come here,” he explained. “Before you go there, you need to learn some things…like, say, how to drive one of the school’s old, old transportation carts.” 

“You mean those repurposed golf carts that date back to, like, forty years ago?” I asked, obviously confused. 

“Yeah, if you’re gonna crash the play, you’re gonna to learn quickly on how to drive one of those rickety things—you could fall off at any second.” 

I raised an eyebrow. Did the client lie? Sure, he’s Fold Republic, but surely he wouldn’t lie about me having to find it the class period time after my only chance ever would’ve been gone, right? 

“Okay, then. C’mon, let’s start riding.” 

————————————————— 

I turned on the cart. It was really old and dusty. As the engine turned on, a foul smell emitted from it. 

“Is that rust?” I asked. 

“Yep,” Mr. Ridneor replied. “Now just…steer. We’ll only be here for a couple more minutes, I bet. You’re handling that wheel really well.” 

I started driving around the hall. Oh my gosh, that smell. 

“There’s still that smelly cloud of rust following the golf cart. Is that normal?” I asked him. 

He responded, “Yeah. It’s been doing that since I was hired here, like, seven years ago. Maybe six.” 

I shrugged. I was fine with it. 

“I think you’re ready,” he said. “Go now. Crash that play.” 

I smiled. As I started to drive… 

He laughed. “Okay, but first, Charlie—er, Foldalorian, I’ve heard—you’ll need a disguise. Here’s a Boba Fett mask. Used to be mine, actually. This school used to be obsessed with Star Wars anyways, with or without origami.” 

After I put my cheap Boba Fett Halloween mask on (it’s November, I was a little tired of people still hanging onto that holiday), I looked back. He waved goodbye as I left to crash the sixth grade McQuarrie Middle School production of Alice in a Wonderland, starring eighth grader Claire McKinnins as Alice, the titular character, and my love interest, frankly. 

I laughed after I left the hall, though. As I kept driving, I said aloud, “Why would a teacher wanna crash a play?” 

I guess some things are better left unanswered, you know? 

 

The Confidence I Needed… 

“Oh no, oh no, oh no!” I shouted as the cart accident flew out the doors of McQuarrie, due to my reckless driving. 

“You could fall off at any second…” Mr. Ridneor’s words echoed in my head—and then it actually happened. The seat jumped up a little, and I bounced off the cart onto a nearby patch of mud, face-first. Mask-first, should I say. As I wiped the visor off with a piece of tin foil I found right next to the mud patch, and then I saw part of my reflection in the tin foil. 

I flipped it off complete and saw my full face—I mean, mask. It was like Boba Fett’s mask still, but with brown instead of green. I felt something under it, though. I realized that it wasn’t just tin foil. 

I lifted the tin foil off, and underneath was…my old Mandalorian puppet? The Mandafoldian? 

It’s really snowy in our area. Like, starting in early October. It must’ve been preserved in this single mud patch for all those days, weeks, months, even years. I guess not all origami got shredded and stuff like that. It was basically my old origami finger puppet, still completely fine, probably protected by that tin foil. 

Thanks, tin foil. 

I got up. I was the Foldalorian, no doubt about it. I got back on the cart, and drove as fast as I could into the school. I went one way, then another way, until…ah, the music room door. Time to venture into the fierce desert planet of Maseec, into a small cantina in the tiny providence of Ruum. 

 

The Foldalorian and FoldG-11 in Wonderland 

“I’m the Cheshire Cat, the Che—” 

I drove in, with my brown Boba Fett mask, now Mandalorian-style. I saw the look of surprise on Claire’s face, my supplier of weapons, as I proceeded to drive up the stage and onto the main platform. 

“Aaaah!” she said, running away. The dude playing the Cheshire Cat ran away as well, escorting Claire away and helping her down the stairs with her big blue-and-white Alice dress. 

“Wait!” I heard someone say. It was familiar. I saw Mr. Ridneor, wearing a C-3PO mask, gunslinging…my Nerf blaster, with rock candy coming out of it as well? I touched my pocket. My blaster was gone. That scoundrel. 

Also, I saw a peek of an origami finger puppet in his pocket, tucked deep in—an origami IG-88. No, the Mandalorian just came out on that Disney+ thing. IG-11? Oof. 

“C-3PO’s holding a Nerf gun! Everybody, scatter!” I heard a student say, possibly the same one from the cafeteria who called me out as the Mandafoldian, my former bounty hunter identity. 

 

The Asset Revealed
By The Foldalorian (yes, now I’m doing those “by ___” things that Lomax used to do…) 

 

Note by The Foldalorian: This is a secret chapter. Lomax did these sometimes, right? It’s just, right now, I’m thinking about him and his friends a lot. You’ll see why very soon… 

 

The whole providence of Ruum, on the desert planet of Maseec, was fully evacuated. The plastic tree props in the background of the stage had fallen over. The guy playing the March Hare had left his mangy rabbit mask with a bad paper-mâché hat glued on behind. I kicked it to the side as FoldG-11, A.K.A. my biology teacher and new friend, Mr. Ridneor, were heading towards the back of the stage, where we had heard a strange bubbling noise. 

The golf cart was parked in the very front of the stage, and as we went to the back, we saw an aquarium tank. Probably filled with water, and with a filter and bubbler, by the sound of the, um, bubbling. It was covered in a soft, brown towel. We saw a small post-it note on the towel, reading, 

If you uncover it, it’ll bond to you forever. You think it’s worth something, but the love of this thing will be eternal, even after it’s eventually gone. It’s worth much more than a single piece of instructions. Enjoy it. —W.T.W.W.” 

How did the note know about my mission? Is this a setup? And lastly, who is W.T.W.W.? Hmm… 

I quickly took the brown towel off. 

“FoldG-11…I can call you that, right?” 

Mr. Ridneor nodded. “It’s actually OriG-11, but I think I like this new name.” 

“FoldG, the client said the asset was 15 years old or so, right? This is just a plain ol’ salamander, and salamanders have gills and those red frill things when they’re infants, right?” 

FoldG said, “I’m a biology teacher, man. Some species age differently than others. This thing can probably breed and live its full adult life looking like this.” 

It was…an axolotl! I think it was an axolotl, now that I’m reminiscing about it all. 

“This thing’s aquatic, though. It’s pink, slimy, but where’s the thing that’s important to the Fold Republic and their reputation? It doesn’t compute.” 

We heard a soft, almost baby-like sneezing noise. It was on the back of the post-it note! 

“Don’t tell me someone attached a baby of this species to the back of that,” FoldG said, exasperated. “They can’t survive out of water for long, unless they’re metamorphosed.” 

I picked the post-it up and flipped it over. It was a smaller version of one of those 5-fold emergency Yodas that Dwight Tharp used to make whenever the “real” Origami Yoda wasn’t around with him. 

“Charlie, I think we should terminate it, if you know what I’m talking about,” FoldG suggested. “I don’t think the client would accept…this, alive. Whatever ‘alive’ for this thing means.” 

I untaped the poor “baby” 5-fold Yoda and put it in my hands. 

“No!” I screamed. “It’s…it’s too precious!” 

“Er—alrighty,” he said, putting the Nerf blaster down. I looked at the baby 5-fold Yoda. I swear to goodness, it creased its own paper ear towards me. I put my finger against its ear. It was like the Sistine Chapel painting. Finger and finger. I was binded to this little guy.

I AM binded to this little guy. And I am the Foldalorian.

The Foldalorian, Chapter Two: My Mom’s Car Got Trashed 

Prelude…
By The Foldalorian 

 

People like me try to stay in the shadows. Not me, though. I’m a fighter. A fighter/a new daddy to a proud piece of living(?) origami. 

——————— 

I held the aquarium, which contained an axolotl who seemed to be the guardian of this…um…infant of Origami Yoda’s “species?” It kept cooing like the infant it was, as it and I tried to exit the music room. 

“Hold it!” someone said. I turned around. It was two thug-like buff dudes dressed as Playing Cards. Playing Cards are the army of living cards that guard the Queen of Cards/The Red Queen. In this case, they just didn’t want me to get away. 

I threw the aquarium and the post-it note onto Mr. Ridneor/FoldG-11 and tore off a paper-mâché tree branch from the rest of itself. I poked at the two Playing Card guys with the branch until one got distracted, and I snatched his also paper-mâché Playing Card spear. They stepped away and went out of the room the other way. 

“C’mon, guys, let’s go,” I said to Mr. Ridneor (and the slimy newt thing + its little origami friend, too). My phone rang. “Oh, I’ll get it,” I said. As soon as I answered, I heard my mom’s voice, panicking. 

“Charlie…they…they wrecked the car.” 

Oh no. Those losers. 

“FoldG, salamander thingie, little origami child, let’s go. My mother’s car got jumped.” 

 

The Trip To Scaly Town: Discount Reptiles & Amphibians 

By The Foldalorian 

 

I pulled a red cart, with the aquarium and the post-it note holding the child inside. FoldG was in front of us, driving a golf cart. 

“So your house…is across the street…from a reptile store? And let me get this straight: for the past few years, these stupid high school kids have been trashing your mom’s car over and over, whether it’s vandalizing it or putting a piece of chewed-up bubblegum on the car door.” 

I nodded. “According to my mom, though, this time they…went a bit too far. The vehicle’s all cracked and dented, and she found a crowbar near the car.” 

“A crowbar?” he asked, stunned. I nodded. 

It was a few hours after school. It was a cold, late autumn evening. 

“We need to find shelter…somewhere,” Mr. Ridneor replied, going off topic. But I agreed. 

“Hey…do you think…McQuarrie is still open?” I asked. He turned around and looked at me, smiling. 

——————— 

“’Night, FoldG,” I said, as I tucked into my bed in the music room, which consisted of the mangy rabbit mask left behind on the stage as the pillow, and a plastic tree prop as the blanket. It’s really stiff, and I think y’all know why. I put the brown towel over the aquarium and the post-it note. Tomorrow would be a long day. Especially since a teacher would be absent, and so would a student who happens to be a 13-year-old (secret) bounty hunter. 

The more and more I look at it, that baby 5-fold Yoda is getting cuter and cuter. So is that axolotl, too. 

“’Night, Charlie,” Mr. Ridneor said. 

Tomorrow would be a good day as well…but also a day full of revenge. 

 

Finally Getting To Scaly Town: Discount Reptiles & Amphibians 

By The Foldalorian 

 

As FoldG stopped the car and I stopped the wagon, I looked at my mom’s car. Wrecked. Dented. Hurt. Wait, no, machines can’t get hurt. Then a machine did get hurt. Well, almost. MY machine friend. FoldG-11, also known as Mr. Ridneor. 

“HEY!” the leader of that stupid group of reckless teenagers working at the reptile store said. “This is our turf. Who are you, and who’s your friend with the wagon and the axolotl?”

I facepalmed. Was I the only one on Earth who didn’t know what an axolotl was before? That’s kind of embarrassing. 

FoldG-11’s note: Yeah, it kind of is. 

The Foldalorian’s note: Hey, shut it! You’re a biology teacher, they work at a reptile and amphibian shop, and I’m just a regular kid! 

FoldG-11’s note: You’re a bounty hunter. 

The Foldalorian’s note: Point, point. 

“Whoa, whoa, I don’t want any trouble!” Mr. Ridneor said. 

“Sure ya don’t,” one of the leader’s friends said. He kicked Mr. Ridneor in the stomach, and he fell down to the ground. The snowy, and frankly muddy, ground. 

“Leave my sidekick alone!” I yelled. 

“Sidekick?” Mr. Ridneor asked himself. 

“You’ve wrecked my mom’s car,” I said. “Yep, that’s her car in front of your store, all beaten and [CENSORED]. We’re not just gonna go to some car auto-repair shop and get it fixed there for, like, a thousand dollars or two—we’re not as petty as 99% of the population. We wanna fix it ourselves, but…we’ll need parts. Do you guys have parts? Any?” 

The leader looked at his goons. They all looked at each other. The leader of the group came up to me and said, “Come in. We need you to do something rather important to us in exchange for the parts.”

 I smiled. This was gonna be the easiest thing in the world. 

“See one of my friends over here? Jeremy? The dumb-looking one? Well, Jeremy over here accidentally bought a black-throated monitor lizard egg off the pet trade—the legal one, we swear—instead of a regular old savannah monitor lizard egg. Black-throated minutes get biiiiiig. It demands sacrifices—mice, small lizards, red-eared sliders. That was just the first year, though. This year, it’s been eating stuff like our bearded dragons and sulcatas. Even by accident, a, uh, juvenile ball python. Once, when Jeremy stepped into its enclosure—he stepped on one of its egg. He left that egg there for so many days without telling us. One day, we saw so many wild animals—gophers, finches, pigeons, doves, fence lizards, all of ‘em—simply just eating at the now-scrambled egg. We decided to let it have a bearded dragon the day after and took one of its unfertilized eggs when it was stuffing its face instead of looking. The egg was surprising…delicious. Every now and then, we’d make another animal sacrifice to the ugly thing to steal its great-tasting eggs…oh, those eggs…” 

“Get back on track, boss,” Jeremy said. 

“Right,” the leader replied, continuing. “It’s been six months since it would accept a sacrifice like a bearded dragon, baby python, or a sulcata tortoise. We need a human to tame it, but as you can see, we’re troublemakers—not fighters. Are any of you up to the challenge?” 

I raised my hand. It wouldn’t hurt…I had hoped. I stuffed the infant 5-fold emergency Yoda into my pocket. 

“Good, good. We’ll put you with it shortly.” 

———————— 

As I walked into the back of the store with those teenagers, Jeremy said, “We’re here.” 

“Where?” I asked. 

“There!” the leader said. 

He pushed me into the nearby supply closet and then closed it. I heard the sound of locking. I proceeded to turn on the lights, and when I did… There was a gigantic, 6-foot-long lizard in front of me. A dark gray color, it had an ugly, bumped snout, and a brownish-green belly. Its eyes were a whitish silver, with red veins spread throughout. Its pupil was a solid black color. Like a black hole. I tried to push back against the wall, but it then opened. It was a door, and an unlocked one to be precise. It led to an outdoor pen, one covered in snow, mud, unpaved cement, dry soil and weeds—one that would fit a cow, or maybe a couple sheep and/or pigs. Not a pen for a normal lizard, but for one of this size? It was perfect. I pulled out my plastic spear. 

“Come and get some Foldalorian, you scaly cowar—” 

Before I could finish, it bumped it flat, blackish-grey head into me, and I stumbled onto the ground. The baby 5-fold Yoda cooed. 

“Shhhhhh,” I said. “It’s okay. NOW COME AT ME AGAIN, WHY DON’T YOU!” 

The lizard started to run up to me like the true beast it was. As I tried to point my spear where its head should be, but it kept zigzagging itself back and forth to escape the spear. It then slapped me in the face with its tail. The plastic spear fell out of my hands and into a lump of monitor lizard dung. As I had fallen, trying to get back up again, something mysterious happened.

 

It Is Time 

By The Force 

 

This is one of many, many universe. I’m the spiritual embodiment of the Force, see, and I’m in one of the many universes, protecting a Force user—at least any Force user I could find—and it’s…interesting, let me say. 

I’m possessing the axolotl guy, in the front of the store, waiting with the bounty hunter teacher guy, okay? 

I could sense Charlie. He was hurt. Injured. By a lizard. A large lizard. I decided to activate the child’s Force powers. 

 

I Had A Feeling 

By The Foldalorian 

 

I had a feeling… I took the 5-fold Yoda out of my pocket. I placed it gently on my index finger. Silently, too, as to not alert the monitor lizard, which was awake but resting at the other side of the pen. 

I felt a jolt in my mouth. It was almost like a shock. Like…some type of hidden force. I had the sudden urge to made the baby 5-fold Yoda “talk” with my mouth. 

“Goo-goo-ga-ga,” it said. “Goo-goo.” 

I could understand every word. 

“Hrrrrrmmmm. Ask politely, you should.” Oh, pfft. I guess it was worth a shot. I got up, and wiped a little bit of the mud off. I walked up to the monitor lizard, and poked it on the shoulder. 

“Hello? Mr. Reptile? Yeah, can I have your egg? Please?” 

It turned around, hissed at me, and grabbed the kid with its mouth. 

“BLU-RAY NO!” I said, snatching it away before it could sink its teeth into my frien—I mean, bounty. I felt another jolt as I had grabbed the kid. It had enough. The lizard screamed. It was like some invisible thing had scared it away. It dug as fast as it could into a pile of snow and burrowed itself into there. That just screamed to me, “Take the egg now, dummy!” 

I walked up to the egg. Cautiously, I picked it up and walked into the supply closet again, closing the door behind me. 

 

Meanwhile, In A Certain Cul-De-Sac… 

By The Force 

 

Guillermo looked out the window, then down at the rug of his comfy, small home. It was almost time. 

 

The Great Origami Jedi Purge 

By The Foldalorian 

 

I overheard their conversation. 

“He’ll come back soon enough,” I heard Mr. Ridneor say. 

“He better hurry up,” the leader replied. “Or else we’re taking something of yours. How about, say, the tank with the axolotl? We haven’t had one of those in a year.” 

“Nothing’s for sale,” FoldG responded. 

“Well? What else is there?” the leader questioned. 

Mr. Ridneor got nervous. “Um…well, an origami Yoda. You know who Yoda is, right? Yoda? From Star Wars?” 

The leader got wide-eyed. “An origami…Yoda? I’ll pay you 5,000 dollars. Give it to me.” 

As I crawled out of the supply closet, I was struck by those words. I remember…the end, it was. 

 

Tommy, Harvey, Sara, Jacob, and even villains like Zack, Vernon, and Ruth…all united, protecting their origami. 

“TAKE COVER!” Lomax shouted as a mysterious cloaked figure grabbed the Mandafoldian and put it in his pocket. Next was Darth Paper, who was put in the shredder immediately. What a cruel fate. Zack was punching Andrew in the face. 

“Gimme my stupid puppet back!” he said, yelling. 

“How’d ya like this?” Ashley shouts, grabbing it out of Andrew’s hands and placing it in the shredder as well. 

“Sy!” 

“Luke!” 

“Yodaaaaaaa!” Dwight cried out, shedding a single tear. Origami Yoda was in the hands of the mysterious cloaked figure who captured the Mandafoldian. 

“You can’t kill Yoda!” Mike said. The figure definitely called on his bluff. He ripped Yoda in half, slowly and carefully. We saw those careful folds for the robes become undone. The ears? Kapoof. And the face—the face got most of the damage. 

“The thing is…” Harvey’s origami Kylo Ren, which he had since the beginning of the Edu-FUNpire’s rule but never used, got taken out of his pocket and thrown into the shredder by Ashley. Jacob was leading the attack on the newly-formed Fold Republic. 

“Utinni!” Ruth said, weakly kicking a Fold Republic member in the leg. 

The Fold Republic member then kicked him somewhere unforgivable, and Ruth stepped away, obviously hurt. Jacob tried to lead his old army of origami battle-droids from that ‘week of Papertine’ event into battle, and he himself tried to steal the shredder away before any other puppet could suffer that horrible fate. 

The mysterious figure that had kidnapped the Mandafoldian and torn Origami Yoda pulled at the other side of the shredder as Fold Republic soldiers (carrying Rebel Alliance soldier puppets, of course) attacked the origami battle-droid army. 

It was like a game of tug-of-war, and Jacob lost it eventually. The cloaked figure pulled so hard at the other end of the shredder that both sides let go of it, and is splattered across the floor like broken glass. There was lump of discarded metal, plastic, actual and not metaphorical glass, and most of all, shredded paper. 

All Hope was lost. 

“…he took it with him.” The leader had a scowl on his face. 

“GIVE IT TO M—” 

 

“There he is! And with the origami Yoda!” FoldG said excitedly. 

I held the child in one hand, and the egg in the other. 

“Oh! Good!” the leader said. “Let’s celebrate!” 

 

Fixing The Car 

By The Foldalorian 

Soon we were having a really, really late breakfast (brunch?) with the leader of the group of teenagers that had trashed my mom’s car. Eggs with toast. The toast was made of homegrown wheat from Jeremy, apparently, but the eggs? Eh, you can probably guess. 

A couple hours later, it was getting just a little dark out. 

“Even with all the parts,” I said, “this is gonna take days to fix. And the leader of that group said none of them are going to help.” 

“Well, let’s get to it, right?” FoldG said, picked up a hammer. 

“Alrighty then!” I replied. 

BUZZZZZZ! ZAP! 

I looked down the flipped-over post-it note. The baby 5-fold Yoda was sleeping. Probably tired after what it did. Er, what I think it did. Right? Right? Right? Right?! 

BUZZZZRRRRRRRRR!!!!! RIZIPPPP! ZOPPPPP! CLANK! 

I wiped my forehead. It had been four hours since we had started… 

ZIP-ZAP-ZIP! CLONKITY-CLONK! CLANKITY-CLANK! 

Mr. Ridneor was melting a small piece of metal onto the car using that old ‘killing an ant using the sun and a magnifying glass’ method. Look it up. Also, it was sunset. 

CLINK! CLANK! BRRRRRRRR!!!!!! BIIIIZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!! 

It was ten at night… 

BIZOPPP! Midnight… RRRRRRR…… 

Four in the morning… 

AAAAAAARRRRRRRR! CLANK! CLANK! CLANK! 

Seven. It was seven in the morning when we had finished. Just…an hour…before…school… 

“Well, you should get going,” I said. 

“I should, too. You first, though. You’re the student here.” 

“Let’s wait for my mother first! Geez…,” I replied. 

We were waiting for my mom for twenty minutes, but she came around. She took the car, thanked and hugged me, and left. 

Mr. Ridneor quickly tied a rope, connecting the red wagon which had the tank and the post-it note inside, and the actual golf cart. 

“It’s all yours,” he said. 

“I can walk.” I nodded. 

“Good luck with the child!” he said, waving goodbye. “May it bring you the best instructions out there!” 

As Mr. Ridneor went out of sight, I looked behind me…at…it. I’m not sure anymore—should I give it away to the nasty Fold Republic, or instead be hunted down like my—um—friends, all those weeks, months, YEARS ago…when the Great Purge happened… 

 

You-teeny! 

By The Force 

 

“You-teeny!” the leader asked. “That’s how it’s pronounced, right? I’ve forgot, after all these years…since the purge…” 

Jeremy shrugged as he walked away, to go check on the Pac-Man frogs one more time for that night. 

“Don’t forget to feed the monitors! Including the big one that the bounty hunter guy fought earlier!” he said, and Jeremy nodded. 

“Bounty hunter…,” the leader said, muttering to himself. He got out a cardboard box labeled ‘memories,’ and took a neatly-folded but severely aged Jawa puppet out of it. 

“You-teeny…utinni…utinni……,” Ruth said, now chanting. “Utinni…”

The Foldalorian, Chapter Three: Pretty Okay Thanksgiving Leftovers

It’s Been A Week

By Charlie

Note by Charlie: As I think more and more about…about…THEM…I just…need more similarities…see what will happen…ugh…this is exhausting…

I’m Charlie Keating, A.K.A. the Foldalorian. In case you fell asleep on Chapter One of my first story, I was assigned a very important bounty…

“Listen, dude. I have a bit of information on the asset.”

…I found it, and it was something, er, different…

“I’m a biology teacher, man. Some species age differently than others.”

…we escaped the clutches of various different villains…

‘He kicked Mr. Ridneor in the stomach, and he fell down to the ground.’

‘Before I could finish, it bumped its flat, blackish-grey head into me, and I stumbled onto the ground.’

…we won and fixed a darn car by hand in one night, without the help of, say, an auto-repair shop…

‘BUZZZZZZ! ZAP!’

…and I travelled into the sunset, to return my bounty the next day. Right? Right?!?

It’s Done

By Charlie

I remember it all. I’mma transcribe it to you now.

*sound of me hiding phone in pocket*

Fold Republic OriTrooper #1: C’mon, let’s go.

*sound of OriTrooper #1 turning head towards the kid*

Fold Republic OriTrooper #1: Huh. Sort of cute. In an ugly, drawn-on-face type of way. C’mon! GET MOVING! C’MON, BOUNTY HUNTER SCUM!

Fold Republic OriTrooper #2: *punches me in the shoulder lightly, most likely as a warning*

Me: C’mon, dude, take it back!

Fold Republic OriTrooper #1: No…and if you start begging me to take back the totally non-insult towards the paperwad back, I’m going to call Ashley, Andrew, and the others. Maybe Zack as well.

Me: UHHHH…no thanks! I’m coming! Coming!

*walks into music room hurriedly, followed closely by OriTroopers #1, #2, #3, #4, and #5*

Fold Republic OriTrooper #5: Keep moving!

Me: Sheesh…okay…

The client: Ah…yes…yes…the child…

*it started to coo as the client put it in his pocket and went away*

The client: Well, Foldo. You’ve done good. Go the spoils, Denning.

*some skinny guy who I think I saw once in the LEGO Robotics elective comes rushing towards me, carrying crumpled instructions—instructions for an origami finger puppet*

The client: Mr. Foldalorian, this is Denning. Quentin Denning, renown member of the LEGO Robotics elective. He’s a technological genius…but not really a genius when it comes to making friends.

Quentin: Hi…just…just have it…

Me: Can I at least say goodbye, er, Mr. Client Guy? *reaches out hands for the child*

The client: *crumples my hands*

Me: OW! OW! Ow…hey…have you been working with Zack lately? Like, physically? It looks like you picked a couple things up from him…including how to seriously break someone’s hands…

The client: Go. You took the case, you found the target, and now you’ve given it back for the bounty. Before I break something else.

*I run out of the music room, hands broken and instructions in hands*

Our History

By Me

Charlie’s note: This person is my sort-of friend and close rival, the “Heavy-Infantry Guy.” All the Mandafoldians in McQuarrie call them that because they love pancakes. Let’s say McQuarrie has become better at cruel nicknames over the years. This dude is like the new Cheeto Hog, but they love pancakes, as I said before. Except, they’re buff, so no one openly disrespects them…also, they always wear a thick, blue winter hoodie…I don’t know their real name or what they look like…also, they’re pretty buff, despite their pancake obsession…

Charlie’s second note: This is a secret chapter, due to another note I made in the middle.

There are different hidden factions of Mandafoldians across McQuarrie. And yes, that’s the correct way to say it, Charlie just thinks he’s talented and that he can name things well. There are the True Mandafoldians, Mandafoldian students who literally worshiped and still worship Tony D. Struction and his former heralds, Lance Armstrong and Jack Something-Something. They’re loyal to the secretary to the student body president, Jasper McReel. Jasper’s kind of a hot-shot…also, I think he believes in time-travel…

I love pancakes.

There are the Mandafoldian Protectors. I used to be one of them. They’re strange. There’s our group, the Hidden Mandafoldians…me, Claire (she’s Sabine, but lately she’s been using her new Mandalorian Armorer puppet, inspired by the Armorer in the Mandalorian show), Charlie—er, the Foldalorian bounty hunter, Kenzie, Danielle, Tom, Earl, and about twelve others. There is also the Fold Watch. I used to be part of them, too…the Darkfolder…ugh…I hate to…to…think about it…

I love pancakes. Also, I ship Charlie x Claire.

Charlie’s third note: 🙂

Late during recess today, Charlie (I’mma call him that, ermaghersh) came up to me, Claire, Tom, Kenzie, Danielle, Earl, and co.

“My hands are broken, but I got instructions. For Boba Felt, I think. Fold it, Claire. Please.”

Claire looked confused at him. “This…Charlie…this…THIS IS AMAZING! Two years without origami…my gosh…it can do a lot to you, but this, these are instrux! Finally! And for Boba Felt!”

“Fold it. Now. Also, don’t add on that additional paper antenna.”

“When I’m done folding it, then, what’d you like me to put on it in dark grey Sharpie? What’s a representation of your hard and long journey to earn this, Charles M. Keating? Hmm?”

“A monitor lizard. But don’t draw it. It was…was…was a pathetic slay. I was helped by an enemy. An enemy that didn’t know it was my enemy.”

I looked stunned. So did everyone else.

“A new puppet it is, then, with no signet,” she said. “You haven’t earned it. But a new blaster is probably in order. You seemed to have lost it, somehow.”

I thought of Mr. Ridneor…

“No more rock candy, please. But! I think rocks will do well. When I was a toddler, I was always throwing small pebbles at people. It’s fun—I mean, uh…”

I laughed at him. I mean, c’mon? Throwing pebbles as a toddler? Don’t say that out loud, pally!

Charlie’s fourth note: I’m. Not. Your. Pally.

He checked the analog clock. Time was going faster and faster.

He looked at her furiously folding, as she commanded Earl and Tom to get some pebbles from the school garden. I gave him a large scowl.

“H.I., don’t just stand there,” Claire said to me as she started coloring. “Give me some tape and scissors, c’mon. For the paper cape. Because, as every Mandafoldian in this darn school knows, you should never draw a cape on the actual puppet…”

I sighed and handed her some tape and scissors.

He…the crying guy…Mike, I think…he…he and the Noah guy were rushing me and every other sixth grader out as Ashley started shredding Lance Armstrong’s Origami C-3PO.

Charlie and Ciara were rushing out, arm in arm. Claire, Reuben, and Adam were all holding onto their origami Rebels characters. I overheard them making small talk.

“These guys, they came out of nowhere,” Adam said. “We need to fight back someday.”

“Let’s start soon, then,” Claire replied.

Reuben asked, “Like…like…like a rebellion? Ermaghersh…”

Claire nodded. “Yeah. Like that.”

The mysterious hooded figure took out his phone. He obviously went to FaceTime or Skype or something similar, because soon he was calling…a member of Jacob Minch and Dan/Eggbert’s Origami Clone Trooper/Fortune Clone Trooper/Origami Battle-Droid army.

“Sire?” the trooper asked.

“Execute…execute Fold 66. Spread the word, one by one.”

“Yes, sire.”

The call ended as word started to spread around the troopers, droids, and even Dan.

“I’m sorry, dude,” Dan said as he raised a Nerf blaster with a bunch of pickles in it at Jacob’s face. Jacob dodged, though, and grabbed ahold of one side of the shredder holding all the, erm, shredded puppets. The hooded dude grabbed onto the other side, though. Soon, broken pieces of shredder paper, metal, glass and plastic were sprawled across the floor as the troopers and droids both started extinguishing multiple students, including Jacob himself, Remi, Harvey, and a couple others.

“Let me go! My step…my…my…”

That’s the last word anyone ever heard from him, I guess, ‘cuz we never saw him in McQuarrie after that.

Ciara let go of Charlie’s hand. She got struck in the back by the original trooper who was alerted to ‘Fold 66.’ Like, hit in the back. With the guy’s actual head. The dude headbutted Charlie’s past girl in the back, and hard. She fell to the floor as she told Charlie to go ahead of her before passing out.

“Hey, bub,” I said, clenching my fist. The trooper turned around.

“Uh-oh.”

WAM! The guy had suffered the same fate as Ciara, passing out as well.

Claire finished folding the puppet.

“Foldalorian, I proclaim you a true member of the Patched Mandafoldian clan. Use the origami finger puppet carefully. Now, this gun…a Nerf Modulus Regulator blaster, to be precise, latest model…use it carefully as well. These two items will attract many eyes, but whatever you do, do not give up anything. That is the Way of the Mandafore.”

“This is the Way!” we all shouted in unison. “This is the Way! This is the Way!”

“The way…”

Getting Him Back

By Charlie

I’m going back. For the kid.

The OriTroopers got out of the music room, and they both looked around.

“Hmm…I thought I had heard something. Meh. Probably that one weird kid who’s name is J—”

I came out from behind, and kicked one of them in the arm.

“How can someone’s leg get that high? OW!”

“Stop right there!” the other OriTrooper said, but I punched him in the leg. He fell down as I shut the music room door behind me, locked it, and went on my way.

I saw the Quentin Denning guy, working on something at a tiny, cramped table he had placed way in the back of the many rows and rows of seats.

“Oh, um, hi! Hi! My, uh, boss is not here, uhhh, right now. Please, uh, don’t hurt me. Um…thanks.”

I pushed him out of the way gently and looked down at what was on the table. A LEGO robot, with the kid placed inside seemingly carefully.

“Please…please take good, um, care of it if you’re, um, gonna keep it,” Quentin said, stammering still. “Um, it’s very precious. You know what it is, right?”

“Yes,” I responded. “I know very well.”

I took out my modified plastic spear. It had my new blaster on the edge instead of the usual spear edge, both taped and glued onto there. (It was really hard to stick on.)

“Is there anyone else here?” I asked furiously, as I picked up the child and put him down in the bottom of my pocket.

He shook his head. “Not as, ermmm, as…as…as…far as…I…know…”

He looked behind me, and I did as well. Zack and a few OriTroopers surrounding him were right behind me.

“Wait!” I said, “What I have in my pocket, right now, is very rare and precious.”

I sat the kid down on the ground, and then…

I activated the Nerf spear (I’m calling it that now) and shot at all of the OriTroopers…including Jack. As they were distracted, I exited the music room the way I came and left in a flash.

Uh-Oh…

By Charlie

As I exited the school doors (yes, I was preparing to skip the rest of my classes, if you’re seriously wondering), I saw a broken tank holding an axolotl skeleton crammed into a nearby dumpster in a hurried manner, it seemed.

All of a sudden, though, I saw a seemingly normal fence lizard scattering across the sidewalk.

The H.I. Guy’s note: Across the school, I saw a bunch of bounty hunters take out their modified compasses, courtesy of the Fold Republic.

“The asset,” one of them said. “It’s…right outside the school doors. The client told us it would stay somewhere inside the school if we brought it to him. What the…?”

“It’s that darn Foldalorian!” a guy holding an origami Saucer Head from Solo said.

“#$@ away, dust breather!” a guy holding an origami IG unit said. “Let’s get him!”

“No,” someone with a deep voice said. I looked over. It was Jerry Kerkins. “We’ll wait…until right after school.”

Friday Afternoon

By Charlie

Friday afternoon. In just a few minutes, everyone would be excused for a good, long Thanksgiving break.

I would’ve been heading home, playing with my Foldalorian puppet made out of those old Boba Felt instructions, and taking care of the kid. Except, see, H.I. Guy had alerted me of a bunch of bounty hunters, saying that they all had those modified compasses leading in the direction of the asset no matter what—and that they said they’d attack me for it right after school.

So here I was, at the lonely gates of McQuarrie Middle School.

The bell rang.

A billion kids burst out the door, and I felt several pushes on my sides as they tried to escape this rugged, now Old West-esque wasteland, full of dirty bounty hunter scum—including me—and ruthless Fold Republic officials, soldiers, warlords and mercenaries.

“Mando!” someone said. I looked behind me. There was Jerry Kerkins, followed by several bounty hunters, clearing showing their puppets, loud and proud. All members of the guild were protected by the Bounty Hunting Protection Act Of 2018, deemed acceptable and put out in the waning months of the 2018-2019 school year.

“Lozn aundz tseshtern zey!” some tall exchange student speaking Yiddish said loudly.

“I literally can’t understand you right now, Aaron,” Jerry replied.

Aaron responded in English with, “It’s Lord Toademort. I have a puppet of a not-that-well-known Nephran bounty hunter named Lord Sacrumpis Toademort! Look him up! He’s Therm Scissorpunch’s second cousin!”

“Dude, all of us know that Lord Toademort is a weird Star Wars OC of yours,” a guy with a Saucer Heard puppet said meekly.

“Yeah, even I, the guy who’s about to kick all of your butts,” I replied smugly.

“Just…just…GET HIM!” Jerry said, and all the bounty hunters ran up to me angrily.

“Not so fast!”

I turned around.

The H.I. Guy, Claire, Kenzie, Earl, Tom, Danielle, and…*le gasp*…other tribes of Mandafoldians? The Fold Watch! Oh, man! I always wanted to meet them. Hmm…that guy’s pretty pasty-looking, though…

The Mandafoldian Protecto…oh. The Protectors looked really sloppy and kind of lazy-looking. Pfft.

The True Mandalorians all looked dirty and rugged. I think I kind of liked them.

“Get down!” the H.I. Guy said, as I saw the Toademort dude trying to tackle me down.

Aaron landed on his side. “MY EVERYTHING IS BROKEN!”

“Well, that was unexpected,” Jasper said. “We broke something? I thought we just made him hurt?”

“Er…let’s get going,” I said.

“No,” the H.I. Guy said, pulling me to the side. “Get out of here. They don’t know our secret hideout, so just…just get out. Thanksgiving break just started. Go! GO! NOW!”

“Ya sure?” I asked. They nodded.

I ran up to the gold cart, when…

“Halt!” Jerry Kerkins said, pulling my shirt. “You just betrayed the guild, Foldo. The whole guild. You nasty Foldalorian, don’t…don’t you realize what you did?” He laughed and then continued. “We’ll let just you off for Thanksgiving break. But when you come back, I promise you this. You’ll be hunted by some of the best bounty hunters we’ve ever had—much better than you, too. Bye, bye, Foldo.”

He let go and put on a smug smile as I turned on the cart and left.

———————

“What should I name you?” I said to the kid. Obviously, since he’s just a puppet, he can’t talk without me.

“I’ll name you…um….ummmm….Five-Fold!”

Bonus mini-chapter: THE MANDALORIAN BAD-GUY SMACKDOWN!!!

Based on the wondrous and classical pencil-flicking, Star Wars-themed games, Pencil Podracing and Pencil Wars, myself, whom I call L, and my dear associate, C, made a new game: The Mandalorian Bad-Guy Smackdown! Rules and practice track below. There’s no easy or hard for this game. Just hard. Our life’s been hard…since…THEN…

—W.T.W.W.

The Mandalorian Bad Guy Smackdown! Practice Track

If you enjoyed this chapter, please support!

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 

By the author, SLS! 

I’d like to thank a lot of people for this. Lately, I’ve been in a bit of a dry area creatively, but recently, things have been looking up. Of course, this is dedicated to Jon Favreau and Dave Filoni, who created the awesome series of the Mandalorian in the first place. Also, Taika Waititi, for voicing that lovable bounty droid, IG-11. Now, onto the Superfolders who I’d love to dedicate. SF Darth Noah/just Noah, OrigamiLuke100, SF Mega3–all of those people. There are also some I’d love to dedicate just for being my friends. These include SF CrimsonDawn (though he should chill a bit on the capitalized letters), Lord Toademort, Potato Dabber (don’t judge him, his account was made in 2015), SF Hades, all the guys and gals in the Bendy and the Ink Machine fanfiction community, Camster Origami, yes, that little dapper boi, Siegfried Tyrone Fischbacher (he’s a really nice guy IRL), jdbubblestuff, and Jar Jar Pleats. Oh, and the creator of the original Mandafoldian story, who originated online on this niche fanfiction site for a niche fandom: Sf Guillermo. Thanks. 

Signing off again, SLS

  1. Thanks your story sure is awesome!

  2. Why was I not dedicated? You dedicated everyone but me…….

  3. Actually, I didn’t dedicate a lot of people if you noticed. You weren’t the only one.

  4. Are you sure about that? You did dedicate everyone but me!

    • He did not dedicate SF Maddox from the DAYS OF OLD (lol xd no i aint gon chil on cap leterz)

      • Grand Master Skywalker

        I didn’t dedicate you, kidloki108, a couple others whose names now slip my mind, and even my good pal RedDwarf. Trust me, we were never really enemies. Okay, y’know what, maybe at one point. Oof.

        Listen, YodaForce, it seems you have a lot of self-angst. Don’t. It’s bad for your mental health. You’re a good guy, and we care about you. Always.

        • No offense dude, but you need to chill some more, no offense, but it’s bad for your health😉

          • Grand Master Skywalker

            bruh
            Bruh
            BRUH
            B R U H
            You’ve literally proved time and time again to be over controlling, pressuring, and the most pushy person I’ve ever worked with on a project—ever. Okay, maybe there was this one guy I had for a science lab partner last year who was worse. You seriously have the nerve to threaten me (oh, watch what ya say, man, it’ll come back at you) in front of everyone. Now that’s what I’d call a person who needs to chill more. The reason why is because I’m agitated and tired at the people on this site who don’t hear anyone out at all, plus, depression doesn’t help. Doesn’t at all. So watch what YOU say, Guillermo, because you’re covered in seven feet worth of dirt already.

            No offense, but you need to chill some more, no offense, but it’s bad for MY constantly deteriorating mental health😉

            • Dude I said that WAY before we made that peace treaty.
              Were cool now right?

              • Grand Master Skywalker

                Yeah, we are. Just needed to elaborate one last time, since you didn’t really openly say anything.

                  • Grand Master Skywalker

                    And…the feud just started back up again. Sorry for talking back like that, I regret it and shouldn’t have used my depression as some sort of excuse or get-out-of-jail-free card (although, young Guillermo, I DO know for a fact you weren’t simply making conversation; you can never fool a Skywalker, you know).

                    I wish I could make some megacomment where I explain it all from my side, and then you can explain it from your side, and then additional users can if they want. I don’t wanna be seen as this site’s version of a war criminal anymore, I guess. You and YodaForce took a dump on how people on the EU view me, and took a dump on me myself, and I, being as sensitive as a baby Krayt dragon, took that to heart, as I rightfully should’ve. However, I did an oopsie, too, and used depression as a way to fight back without punishment.

  5. Grand Master Skywalker

    Chapters 4–6 coming once the mods get their butts and epic gamer faces on! (probably after Infinity Folds lol)

  6. Dude I loce the game at the end!

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