Confusion is profit
The upstairs rooms here get very hot, and contrary to the popular mythos, jawas are not especially fond of the heat. If you’d ever seen a jawa without his traditional hood, you’d know this. Jawas possess no pigmentation whatsoever; beneath our thick hood (ladies) we have (ladies) absolutely transparent skin.
To cope with the heat, Jawa Warhol succumbs to his intense craving for neo-classicism. Beneath his velvet blacklight poster of Yanni, he dusts off his long-neglected lollipopsichord. a traditional tattooine instrument that measures the variances of temperature in the blood and maps them to the chromatic scale. As another stifling summer night closes over him, the mournful sweeps in the singing of his blood drift through the pitch alleys of Lorain, Ohio. Perhaps, if you visit the city on the lake, you’ll hear him; outside his window, the strays in the neighborhood cluster, half-lidded and dripping slowly into somnulence as he plays…