"Yup. That's it. Dagobah."
"Beep, toodle, whistle!"
"No, I'm not gonna change my mind about this."
"You heard what I said! That's not what I asked you about! Will ask again. Will you or will you not return stolen meat to friend you stole from?"
"Can we get off that subject? I'm not picking up any cities or technology. May not be any good restaurants, then. Massive organic food chains, though. Hmph. There's something alive down there, and I'm betting it's not that tasty."
"I hope you choke on stolen meat."
"Well, the good news is that this place isn't so safe for droids. So if some...unfortunate drowning accident were to befall you, there'd be no one alive to report on the thief Luke Skywalker. 'Oh dear. I told him to stay put, but he just had to get out. By the time I got him out of the water, it was already too late. I sure will miss him.'"
"Ooo.. Ooooo!"
The Tex-Mex Wing encountered heavy turbulence as it entered Dagobah's atmosphere. "I know, I know! All the Coke's gone, I can't drink anything! Just hang on! I'm gonna start the can opener!"
SKA-WWWOOOSH! The Tex-Mex Wing crash-landed in what looked like a steaming bowl of organic noodle soup.
"Sheoooee...shooe. Sweeew. Odneeoooee?"
Luke unfolded the aluminum foil and opened the cockpit. Putting dangerous germs up his nose, he touched a plastic gloved hand to his face. He read the warning in white letters:

WARNING: Do not touch face while wearing food preparation gloves.

Realizing his mistake, he took off the glove and threw it down in frustration. He stood and balanced himself. Upon stepping out into the Dagobah murk, he quickly recognized that the organic soup his wing had landed in was in fact, quite cold, rather than boiling hot. He took a chance and immersed himself in it, swimming to the nearest tree branch.
He climbed up onto somewhat dry land and looked back. "Oh, hey, Artoo...I think you've got something on your head." He pulled a small buffalo wing. "Let me get that for you-"
"No, no!"
Luke threw the buffalo wing, and it knocked Artoo off the Tex-Mex Wing and into the soup. "Oh, sauce...I was just foolin' around! Artoo? Artoo!! Where are you? Artoo!"
"Gguurgu! You are supposed to be on Tex-Mex Wing for that line!"
"You be more careful."
"Ooo ooo ooo, oowee ooo ooo!"
"Artoo? That way."
"Oo. OO oo." Artoo headed towards dry land. Slinking behind him was a large noodle in pursuit.
Luke froze. He heard the familiar sizzle. "No...the Dietcola!! Get outta there, Artoo! Get out of the water!"
"Stop quoting Jaws!!! Uggggh!!" Artoo went under, the Dietcola-enhanced noodle following him down.
"ARTOO!!"
Luke raced down the tree trunk and into an enclosed section of trees on the other side of the pond of soup. Ketchup blaster in hand, he eased towards the soup, eager to turn whatever came out into a vague interpretation of spaghetti.

Beneath the surface of the soup, a life and death battle raged. Desperate to escape the noodle's clutches, Artoo pulled his mini-saw and sliced it into two. Greatly enraged, the Dietcola grabbed him and launched him out of the soup. "GWOOOOOOW!!!" Artoo cried out.

Luke watched him soar, then hurried over to help him up. "Are you alright? Come on....uggh...you were clucky to get out of there."
"Clucky? What is clucky? In my experience, I don't believe in 'cluck'."
"Anything broken?"
"The economy. That is broken."
"Yeah, well...the problem with the French Fry Order in the first place was that they failed to stay neutral in politics. I'm staying neutral this time. At least for the next 20 or 30 years." Luke sighed. "Well, if you said coming here was a bad idea, I'm beginning to agree with you."
"Actually, you were the one who stole food to keep from eating here-"
"Oh, Artoo, what're we doing here? It's like...something out of a vegan dream or...I don't know. Maybe I'm just going crazy-"
"M-BLEEEEEH!!" Artoo vomited soup out of his domed head. "Uuuggh...ugggh...something...in soup was bad..."



Aboard the Mexecutor, Darth Vader ate a leisurely meal of KFC's Original Recipe Boneless Chicken Strips-the newest sensation from the only store that does chicken right.
Team Admiral Piett entered and let the doors close behind him, then walked over to Vader's mastication chamber. (Mastication = 'to chew'. I learned that word in 9th grade English. Thank you, Mr. Hughes, you were the best...Anyway, it was the most similar to meditation I could come up with...) He frowned as he saw Vader's long, mullet-styled hair from the back. Why the shell does he wear the helmet, then? I thought he was injured or something...
Vader's helmet closed down over his head as he finished the last chicken strip. He did not bother to hide his annoyance at his lunch hour being interrupted. "Yes, Admiral?"
"Our tortilla chips have sighted the Millennium Chicken & Fries, lord, but it has entered an Ore-Ida potato field and we cannot risk-"
"Frozen potatoes do not concern me, Admiral. I want more chicken strips, not excuses."
"Yes, Lord Vader."
Vader threw the empty paper box out of the chamber as it sealed shut. His fingers got caught. "Ow." The chamber opened again and he slid his fingers out. As it closed once more, he spoke. "If I hear you joking about this in the lunch room, you will deeply regret it."