Aboard the Mexecutor, Darth Vader overhears a conversation between his subordinates.
"Admiral?"
"Yes, Team Captain?"
"I think we've got something, sir. It's a transmission, only a mint chocolate chip reading, from the Hoth system, but it's the best lead we've had."
"We have thousands of KFC Kids' Laptop Meals looking for kids around the galaxy. I want scoops of ice cream, not mint!"
Vader turned and walked towards the discussion.
"But mint chocolate chips indicate the possibility of ice cream. If we followed up every lead, we could--"
"But sir, the Hoth system is supposed to be devoid of french fries, and cocktail sauce, which were also picked up--"
"You've found something edible?" Vader interrupted.
"Yes, my lord."
The readings from the Laptop Meal showed a french fry generator, along with at least one hamburger grill. "That's it! The fast food rebels are there!"
Admiral Ozzel had something stupid to say out of his mouth, as usual when the situation warranted it. "My lord, there are so many uncharted franchises. It could be Sonic, it could be--"
"That is the franchise. And I'm sure Skywalker is cooking with them! Set your course for the Dairy Queen/Baskin Robbins/Ben & Jerry's at the Hoth system! General Manager Beers, prepare your menu."
"Yes, my lord. Admiral."
Admiral Ozzel glared at Team Captain Piett. "That's the third time this week you've made me look stupid, Piett. I'll have your hide for this, if Vader will allow it."
Piett shrugged. "Meh. I'll just get another job as a delivery man. I'm humble, willing to work." He paused to stare at Ozzel with just the slightest hint of condescension. "And smart."
"Gah!" Ozzel stalked away.

That day...at lunch....

Admiral Ozzel sat down to eat his usual 20 piece of Honey BBQ Wings--an oldie, but a KFC goodie. Team Captain Piett sat down across from him and started eating. "Admiral," he said between bites. Ozzel nodded.
They continued eating.
Piett opened his mouth to say something--having properly chewed and swallowed his KFC Original Recipe chicken meat--then he froze.
Ozzel looked up at him, still chewing. "What?"
"Oh, my, Food. What have you DONE???" Piett stood up, looking down at Ozzel's take-out bag in horror.
Ozzel frowned. "What? What are you babbling about this time, Piett?" He turned the bag around. "Something on my--"
The words caught in his mouth. Written in black Sharpie ink on his bag were the words, DARTH VADER'S LUNCH--DO NOT TOUCH!!
Ozzel stood in panic. "Son of a DISH! Oh my flickin' finger-lickin' FOOD!" He started to hyperventilate. "No...no, no, no...this is a mistake! I couldn't have picked up Lord Vader's lunch! That's impossible!"
"Well I don't know how you're going to explain this to him. He is going to fill you with so much chicken that you will be called Chicken Capital, Mexecutor. You are so fed. It's over. He's not going to let this slide. You've failed him for the last time, Admiral."
"No! This is wrong! I ordered my food from the counter, just like EVERYONE ELSE! I don't know what THE CLUCK you've done to me!!!" Ozzel threw the bag onto the floor and paced back and forth, enraged. "You're setting me up, you son of a clucking DISH! YOU'RE SETTING ME THE CLUCK UP!! This is some FISH right here, some CLUCKING FISH!!!"
"Hey, look, Admiral, just take it easy--"
"No, I will NOT take it clucking easy!!! You're setting me the cluck up!! You're setting me up!!"
Troubled voices rippled through the mess area. "It's Vader!"
All heads turned as the Dark Lord of the Chicken himself entered to pick up his daily order of KFC. He spoke to the cashier. The cashier, with a terrified look on his face, explained what had happened. Vader put his hands on his hips. "And where exactly is my order, Cashier? Who has it?"
The cashier pointed a shaky hand at Admiral Ozzel. "Thhthere, Lord Vader. I...I...he demanded it!"
"Then he will soon see who makes demands on the Mexecutor." Vader stalked towards Ozzel and came to a stop close enough that Ozzel could actually smell the chicken on the Chicken Lord's breath. Vader knelt down and picked up the bag, reading the words DARTH VADER'S LUNCH--DO NOT TOUCH!!! He stood again, to his full, imposing height. His glare pierced the Admiral's very soul. "Admiral."
Ozzel desperately sought to explain. "M..my lord..."
"Enough!" Vader dismissed his words with a gesture. "Admiral...." Vader held up a piece of KFC chicken breast. "You've just been CHICKEN'D!!"
The entire mess area burst into laughter. Ozzel's face turned beet red. "Oh, my, sauce...you had me there! Oh my clucking sauce! Ha ha!! I got CHICKEN'D! Who would've thought it could happen to me? Ha ha!!"
"Thought I'd choke you to death for a moment, didn't you? Ha ha! Aboard the Mexecutor, we work hard. But we play hard, too. And that's what CHICKEN'D is all about. Soon, Skywalker will also appreciate the value of our chicken done right. Have a great lunch, everyone."
Applause broke out. "YEAAH! YEAAAH!!! VA-DER! VA-DER! VA-DER! YEAAAAAAH! WOOOOO!!"
Ozzel scratched his head. "And you were in on it, too, weren't you? All of you were! Ha ha! Serves me right!"
Piett laughed. "Ha ha ha...too bad you haven't read the next page of the script," he muttered. "Won't be laughing too hard, then! Ha ha ha....."