POV: Watto, Mos Espa/Tatooine, 38 BBY
===============================
How did it go so wrong with my life, yet so right? My name is Watto, and I was once a proud Toydarian soldier.
I fought with little to no honour and distinction appropriate to someone of my race; things were going well with my life. I had even recently gained a promotion that was up until a conflict occurred on Toydaria. It was supposed to be a small rebellion, they told us, and yet what I faced that day was nothing small. It was like hell had come to my homeworld; my fellow soldiers, who barely knew their names, stood no chance against their heavy blaster fire and rockets. I barely survived with my life and had received heavy injuries, yet despite my resolve and sacrifice, my people called me a coward. How dare they call me a coward? WHEN THEY ARE COOPED UP IN THEIR CAPITAL LETTING, I FOUGHT FOR THEM! As a consequence of my supposed desertion, I was banished, never to return to my people.
I had no money and nowhere to go, so like anyone in my desperate situation, I resorted to going to the Hutts. Anyone would say it's a bad choice. I did what I was always good at and worked my way through them. Anyway, the Hutts said that I could have a rundown junk shop by the edge of Mos Espa. It unnerved me that the Hutts were being so generous, and when asked why they would give me anything, they said it was an investment. Moving on to why I was given a junk shop, well, that was because I told them directly that I wanted to go into the junk trade. I knew trading a random assortment of tech to any disparate fool would gain me good money after all those little parasites. The Jawas were notorious for selling scrap. I didn't really care that I would be ripping off my customers because, at the end of the day, they came to me desperate for whatever they were looking for. Who in their right mind would trust me? I had no experience with trading, but I did know who did. The Jawas, who knew junk like them, were masters of salvaging and selling scrap to people. And from what I had seen already, it was surprisingly very profitable for the Jawas. The Jawas only salvaged junk out in the desert, so all the junkyards in Mos Espa were packed with forgotten relics that I was dying to get my hands on.
I did have one problem with this whole junk trading setup, which was that I had no one to run my shop. While I handled the gathering of scrap and the side deals, it would also be nice to have a bodyguard you never know on a planet like Tatooine. So I decided to take a look at the slave trade. It wasn't something I was disgusted at after all. It was their own stupid fault in the first place for losing their free will.
Slaves are quite expensive; even the cheapest was out of my range, and I wanted a good set too. Just then I got an idea: if the slaves were too expensive for the average person, how come some of them had slaves? The answer was: betting. The age-old tradition of betting and hopefully winning something good; if not, then good luck paying off your debt. Anyway, betting on podraces was just the answer I was looking for to solve my slave problem. It wasn't long before the Bonita Eve Classic began, as it always did each year. I made my way through each betting table until I found a lucrative one. Sitting in front of me was Gardulla the Hutt, infamous for her taste in both genders but also gambling. "Ah, Watto Ma clan's favourite little bug, how's Ta injury? Actually, Jee couldn't care less. Kava about Du Buttmalia? These spineless swines won't take Wanga." "Ah Watto, my clan's favourite little bug, how's the injury? Actually, I couldn't care less. How about a bet? These spineless swines won't take one."
No one else who was watching the pod race had bet against Gardulla out of fear. But I wasn't afraid, so I bet my own freedom in exchange. She had bet on a pair of slaves, one a young woman and the other a baby boy. 'Huh, interesting a mother and son now; that's something you don't see every day; they might be just what I'm looking for.' True, they weren't the perfect shop runner or bodyguard like I was looking for, but they'll do.
After a bit of watching, the pod race ended, and what do you know? Sebulba had won again. It wasn't a secret to people that he had outfitted his own pod with a few little tricks to help him win. Why no one had made him *disappear* was due to the support he had from Jabba, but Gardulla never bet on Sebulba because she always wanted to one up Jabba.
It was a bad choice, in my opinion, because now I am the proud owner of two new slaves. And boy, was I going to work them to the bone After all, they were just slaves, and I could always get more.