This article is about a Human male named Jax Pavan who lived on Coruscant. You may be looking for one of the 582,797,753 others.
Jax Pavan of Coruscant was running from the feds one cold space day. He sold drugs you see, to be specific it was space dust, the hottest shit on the planet of Coruscant. Drugs are bad, even to space people, so they must be stopped. At least this is what the government wants you to believe, both theirs and ours. While on the run Pavan stopped at a small diner on Nar Shaddaa to get some chow. He ordered a half plate of space eggs, covered in Franks' red hot sauce, with an extra large side order of hash browns and toast. Running from the feds sure makes you hungry and he needed a man sized dinner. The eggs were a bit runny for his taste but he gulped them down anyway. After paying and convincing the waitress to give him head in the bathroom in lieu of her tip he was on his merry way unaware of the events that would unfold in the near future. He used his fake face to make it past the first intergalactic check point when he noticed a slight rumble in his third stomach. He figured it was his nerves and payed it no attention. After rounding the Blaze Nebula the rumble had moved to his second stomach and he felt severe sharp pain in his fourth. "Space shits!" he cried, "Just what I need now, FUCK!" Quickly Pavan left the bridge and headed to his toilet. He flung open the door and parked his cheeks on the seat and got ready to unleash a toxic dump the likes of which have never been seen by the galaxy. Right before he could pinch off the first loaf he noticed the blinking light over the shit tank level indicator. "FULL! And no time to empty the shit tanks, I have to dump my load now!" Pavan pulled his jeans back up and tried to hold off the flood of turd that was imminent. Desperately looking for somewhere to drop his load he searched high and low for some kind of container. Under his seat he found a 6 month old brown bag lunch he forgot to eat. Yellow and orange with fungus no one would want to eat it but the bag would work just fine for what Pavan had in mind. Pavan dropped his pants and put the bag to his ass. With every pound that drained from his body he felt 100 times better. Ten pounds lighter and pain free Pavan was left with a problem on his hands: what to do with a huge bag of alien shit. Pavan dons his space suit and opens the main door to his cockpit. With the cold blackness of space exposed he musters every memory of college baseball and throws the bag as hard as he can out the door. With good riddance he closes the door and caries on his daring run from the police. Pavan cuts west towards the only planet in the galaxy but his bag of shit makes no notice. With nothing but the rules of physics governing its voyage it has no choice but to go straight until something else happens to it on its way. That something just happened to be 30 light years later and a planet called Malachor V. Known for being the worst possible place to incubate life, the planet was left to weapons testing and a colony for mormons that people got tired of dealing with. No atmosphere proves difficult to any complex life forms trying to take up residence on Malachor V but proves quite helpful to our bag of unpleasantness. It falls towards the planet in rapid decent and splatters on the ground covering it in many square feet of brown sludgy goo with a frozen sandwich in the middle. Slowly the sandwich melts and mixes with the goo. Spores from the fungus get their precious heat and light and begin to grow. Multiplying rapidly they follow the instructions encoded in their DNA and organize. First a stem appears, then a bell. Then another shroom pops up and yet another. Over the next 5 days a total of 6 shrooms manage to make it. To this day they sit as a tribute to Pavan, his horribly undercooked breakfast and drugs. Remember kids, not all drugs are bad. So if you happen to run across a nice phat rail of space dust, grab yourself a straw and snort that shit up!