"As soon as this ice cream is packed up in the portable freezers, Lunch Control will give clearance for immediate snackoff."
"Right, sir."

Han adjusted the fryer. "Alright! That's it! Fry it!" He shouted down to Chewbacca. Chewbacca turned on the fryer and put in some frozen fish. Grease popped everywhere and a small grease fire started. "Oh! Off! Off! TURN IT OFF!" Chewbacca hurriedly flicked off the fryer.

"Sir, it'll take quite awhile to evacuate the chicken sandwiches," Chris2OneBee said. "Well, well. I wrote myself into the story. Is that allowed?"
"So long as you don't get paid," Luke said. "Especially not more than me. Anyway, there'll be plenty of time to evacuate the smaller menu items."
"Take care, sir."
"I will."
"And by the way, I'm not allowed to discuss my salary with fellow actors."
"I didn't ask you about your salary!"
"Hmm. Must be making quite a pittance to get so riled up about the salary, huh?"
"Shut up!!! I'm leaving!"
"Hey, I'm not the problem here. Why should I shut up?"
"I don't even know how you got here! I'm calling security!" Luke stalked out of the room.
"Then who's gonna replace your hand, Luke? Huh? Huh? Oh, wait. One last line. 'Take care, sir...' Oh, wait. I already said that..."

"Chewie," Luke said, "Take care of yourself." He took a bite out of the Cookiee.
"RRWRW!!"
"Okay, okay! Smaller bites next time. Hey, did you add some dark chocolate?"
"RRROOO!"
Han gave directions to the serving droid. "No, that's not it. Check the oven at the other end. Wait a second." He looked down at Luke. "You alright?"
"Yeah," Luke said. "Just keep pretending we like each other." He turned to walk away.
"Be careful," Han said. "Wouldn't want you to, you know, die or anything."
"As long as I'm not eating your cooking, I wouldn't be too worried about it."
"One day, kid! The great cook-off!"
"Yeah. Cook off, jerk chicken!"
Han stared after Luke, then threw a grease-stained dish towel at him in disgust.
Luke caught it with ease, then smelled it. "Ah. The stench of defeat." He looked up at Han. "Yours." Luke threw the towel to the ground and walked away.
Chewbacca looked up at Han. "RRRWWOOO."
Han shook his head, boiling with rage like an overcooked chicken.

"Sir, we have tortilla chips coming out of hypertaste in sector 7."
General Manager Frieekan nodded. "Reroute all power to the energy meals. We've got to hold the chicken in our stomachs until all the ice cream is away. Prepare the ground salt."

The Mexecutor and the dreaded Taco Breath Squadron emerged from hypertaste, with the ice cream planet Hoth clearly in view.
General Manager Beers approached Darth Vader's personal kitchen. The black pepper shaker opened and Vader turned around, still holding a KFC chicken breast. "What is it, General Manager?"
"My Executive Vice President, chickenscan has detected an energy meal protecting an area of the sixth planet of the Hoth system. The meal is strong enough to deflect any cole slaw-meat-taco combination."
"The fast food rebels are alerted to our present menu. Admiral Ozzel came out of friedspeed--or fries' speed, whichever you prefer--too close to the chicken."
"He, he felt a larger sized meal was wiser--"
"He is as clumsy as he is CHICKEN'D. General Manager, prepare your food for a surface snack."
"Yes, my Executive Vice President."
"It's 'my lord'! Just say it!"
"What, do you want us to get sued?"
"Well, we're prepared. I've got prepaid legal services."
"You've got everything. You're Executive!" Beers stalked out.
Vader turned to face his monitor. Admiral Ozzel and Team Captain Piett turned to face him. Ozzel spoke first, still chewing an entire KFC Boneless Wing. "Ah, Lord Vader. The meat has moved out of friedspeed, and we are preparing to--ah...ah..." KFC's destructive flavor crowded the Admiral's throat, as Vader exerted his power through the dark meat of the Food.
"You have failed meat for the last time, Admiral. Team Captain Piett."
Piett stepped forward. "Yes, my lord?"
"Make ready to land our meals beyond their energy meals, and deploy the meat so that no ice cream gets off the system. You are in command now, Team Admiral Piett."
"Thank you, Lord Vader." Piett clapped his hands loudly and danced over Ozzel's collapsed form. "Ha ha! In your face, baby! Took your job! Took your job! Chew on that! Chew on that!"
"Team Admiral?"
"Uh--" Piett straightened up again. "Yes, Lord Vader?"
"No showboating. It's not dignified. Let him taste disgrace in pieces--of chicken."
"Yes, my lord." Piett gestured for assistance. "Does anyone know the Fingerlick Maneuver? I need some help here!"
"Piett?"
"Yes, Lord Vader?"
Vader sighed. "Never mind..."

"There's a lot of stuff I don't even slightly remember that I'm supposed to tell you," Princess Leia said, "so I'll just make up something brief."
"Two burgers against a Five-Star Destroyer?" Hobbie said.
"Uh...yeah. And the spray-on cannon will properly lubricate the food so that you'll be able to slip right past them. Once you've gotten past the tacos, head directly to the rendezvous point. Understood?"
"Well what about the pupusa trucks?"
"I've been thinking about that. I might ride in one, if I get the chance. I walked past one today, and the food smelled pretty good, actually. We won't send them out first, in case the first transport gets blasted out of the sky. Fair enough?"
The group of rebel staff nodded. "Yeah," they unanimously responded.
The guy from Cheers and Toy Story clapped his hands and said, "Okay! Everybody to your cashier stations! Let's go!"
"All right!"

The first buckets of ice cream soared out of Hoth's atmosphere.

"Sir! Rebel ice cream is entering our sector!" An officer said aboard the Five-Star Destroyer McDeath Bringer. Why was it named McDeath Bringer, you ask? As an intentional insult to the Fast Food Rebellion, of course! It actually once destroyed a Fast Food Rebel outpost because its transponder was recognized as a McDonald's-sponsored vehicle. But that was in one of those in-between novels you probably missed. Moving on...
"Good," the Team Captain said. "Our first snack of the day."

Back on Hoth...

"Stand by spray-on control. Fire."

The spray-on oil covered the ice cream buckets and they slipped past the oversized and misshapen chicken.

"The first Cookies 'N Cream bucket is away."
"Yaaaay!"
"The first Cookies 'N Cream bucket is away."
Luke hurried past the food fighters and headed for his Domino's Pizza box. His coworker, Dack, was already seated. "Feeling alright, sir?" Dack asked.
"Just like great food, Dack, how about you?"
"Right now, I feel I could eat the whole KFC Empire myself!"
Luke smiled. "I know what you mean. Especially after eating Han's food for so long..."
"Actually, his fish meals are pretty good--and affordable!"
"Just shut it, Dack! Get ready for battle!"
"Don't be jealous, sir. Han's got better food, I'm gonna be honest. And the ladies hang out there, too, because he's better looking, even covered in a grease-stained apron."
Luke pulled his drumstick and thumbed on the flavor. "DAAAAAH!!" The pizza box closed over them.

On the North Ridge, huddled beneath piles of vanilla ice cream, rebel soldiers scanned the drumsticks walking towards them in the distance. Using their binoculars, they found the drumsticks were attached to very large, red and white buckets with the Emperor's face smiling on the side. "Echo Station, 3-T-A! We have spotted KFC Drumstick Walkers!"
"Drumstick Walkers on the North Ridge!"
Frozen ice cream smacked Artoo across the head as it trundled down the hallway. "Oh, snack! Is battle time!"