"Guh! I don't know where your ship's computer learned to communicate, but it has the most peculiar dialect!" Threepio looked over at Han.
"Threepio, if you don't get to the point, I'm going to throw this giant onion ring at you."
"I believe, sir, it says the negative flavor coupling has been tenderized. I'm afraid you'll have to replace it."
"Well, of course I'll have to replace it. We tenderize meat everyday, remember?" Han handed the onion ring up to Chewie. "Here. And Chewie? ... I think we better replace the negative flavor coupling."

Satisfied with her maintenance of the kitchen area, Leia unplugged the toaster, and then attempted to close the refrigerator. It refused to close. She pressed all her weight against it, but it wouldn't stay shut.
Suddenly, Indiana Cones crawled out. "Hey, can't a guy get out to use the refresher once in awhile? A wise man once warned me these things are death traps. Should've listened..." He grabbed his hat and Cool Whip and walked off. "Wait-one more thing. Let me see here..."
Pulling a worn, brown book from his coat pocket, he flipped to the page. "Oh, yeah." He read the words in monotone. "Your adventure is not complete until you own Indiana Cones and the Cookies of the Porcelain Bowl on DVD October 14th. 'Whoa.' " He looked around. "Okay. Cameo done."
Indiana Cones walked off the set.
Leia watched him go. "Unusual..."
She again tried to close the refrigerator. Han came up behind her, trying to help her keep it closed. She pushed back against him.
He raised a hand in protest. "Hey, Your Worship, I'm only trying to help. Don't be all...backing up against me, trying to set me up for harassment charges. As my alter-ego would say, I don't like fast women."
"Would you please stop calling me that? And I object to that-I am not a fast woman!"
"Sure, Leia. Sure."
"Oh, you make it so difficult sometimes!"
"I do, I really do. You could be a little nicer, though. Come on, admit it. Sometimes you think my cooking is alright."
Leia nodded. "Occasionally, maybe. When you aren't cooking up some flounder."
"Flounder? Flounder." Han smiled. "I like the sound of that." He handed her a plate with fried flounder on it.
"Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"Stop that. My hands are dirty. Employees have to wash their hands before handling food."
"I've got hand sanitizer, too. What are you afraid of?"
The plate drew closer. "Afraid?"
"You're trembling, possibly from hunger."
"I'm not trembling."
"You like meat made from flounder. There's not enough flounder in your diet."
"I happen to like ice cream."
"If we enter a joint venture together, I can sell ice cream."
"No you can't, you..." Leia took a long, satisfying bite of flounder.
Just as Han reveled in satisfying his most prized customer's taste buds, Threepio barged in. "Sir, sir! I've isolated the reverse flour flux coupling!"
Han turned. "Thank you. Thank you very much!"
"Oh, you're quite welcome, sir."
Han turned back to face Leia, and she was gone. Dismay fell over him. Maybe she was going to throw up in the 'fresher, once Dr. Cones was done getting scrubbed down in there. It was too bad. She didn't even fill out the customer survey...



Meanwhile, in the Ore-Ida potato field...

Vader watched in annoyance as the holograms of Team Captains reported in. One captain, to his left, was pinned beneath a giant frozen potato. He tried taking a bite out of it, and his final sounds were those of frozen screams. His hologram faded out as one of the Team Captains continued talking.
"...Considering how many tater tots we've eaten, they must have been destroyed."
"No, Captain," Vader said, "they're alive. I just got a flyer from them under my doorstep! I want every tortilla chip available this side of Taco Bell to sweep the Ore-Ida field until they are found. If you need more brooms, submit the proper forms for them."
The Team Captains nodded and their holograms faded out.
Team Admiral Piett hurried towards Vader, his face white with terror. Or possibly flour. "Lord Vader."
"Yes, Team Admiral, what is it?"
"The KFC Emperor, Colonel Palpatine himself, commands you to make contact with him."
"Move the tortilla chip out of the potato field, so that we can cook a good piece of chicken!"
"Yes, my lord."

Vader knelt before his communications link. "What is thy order, my manager?"
The KFC Emperor's face blazed before him in holographic form, sickly yellow eyes and pale skin concealed beneath a Kentucky-style necktie and black hood. "There is a great disturbance in the Food."
"I have smelled it."
"We have a new enemy-the young rebel who destroyed the KFC Star. I thought we made it Pepsi-proof, just in case of an accidental spill."
"We could not have predicted he would have Mentos as well, my manager. We went to great lengths to shut down their operations."
"We shall have to be more careful...next time..."
"Next time? Please tell me we're not building another one..."
"Well, we might be. I heard rumors about that being banned from the early Food Wars comics for that reason."
"Yes, my manager."
"I have no doubt this boy is the offspring of Anakin Skywalker."
"Hhhow is that possible? I mean...obviously, Padme died in Episode III. Didn't you see the funeral? And the bloated stomach, clutching a jappor snippet? Death by McGriddle? Hello?"
"I always thought that seemed too good to be true. Thankfully, your cell phone records told me otherwise."
"You tracked my cell phone?" Vader looked up at the KFC Emperor. "I mean, WTC?"
"I know what that means, young man! 'What the cluck' is not appropriate language for the Executive Vice President of this organization!"
"But that is like, soooo wrong, dude! How can you treat me like this? It's unfair!"
"Alright, alright! Don't start with the whining again! We had enough of that in Episode II!"
"Sorry, master."
"Anyway, he-referring to the aforementioned boy-could destroy us."
"Um...okay. So is he like, a controlling shareholder or something? How's that going to work? He's just a boy. Obi-Wan can no longer help him."
"That's where you're wrong again, Lord Vader. He's apparently alive, too. Our cloned-food intelligence agents just found a broken-down speeder not far from the 'Dairy Queen on Hoth' parking lot. It was registered in his name. We tracked Obi-Wan fleeing the KFC Star before it detonated three years ago. He hadn't shown up on radar since. So that's...kind of another misstep on our part, actually. Anyway, the Food is strong with the boy. The son of Skywalker must not become a French Fry."
"If he could be turned into a Chicken, he would become a powerful ally."
"Yes...yes. He would be a great asset--and in this economy, who doesn't need more of those? That is a good start, my friend. But we need him to make chicken, not actually become one."
"You know what I mean--he could be turned into a Dark Lord of the Chicken."
"Yes, I know. I just like jerking your chain a little. Can it be done?"
"Steak can be done. Well done, even. But Chicken? That's kind of a different animal altogether, my master. But he will join us, or fry, master..."