"Clone Bugs N' Harmony will not be seen today, but in their place, we have a classic group lined up! Ladies and gentlemen, Chicken Fingerin' D'an and the Modal Nodes!"
The cantina patrons clapped heartily, as Fingerin' D'an started them off.

Luke and the droids stood at the entrance, looking at the many different kinds of customers. "Hmm...wonder if we have to wait to be seated."
Obi-Wan had already gone ahead of him, up to the bar, to talk to a very large Cookiee, who was sweating profusely in the heat, his chocolate chips melting all over.
"Hey! We don't serve their kind here!"
"What?" Luke said.
The bartender pointed at Artoo and Threepio. "Your droids! They'll have to wait outside, we don't want them here!"
"Would you be willing to say that on tape?" Luke replied. "I understand the KFC Empire has laws about discrimination. I'm sure they can settle this."
The bartender jumped over the counter with a tape recorder, and pressed the Record button. "I, the owner of the Dive Cantina, hate droids! I don't want their kind in my place of business! If you got a problem with that, TOO BAD!" He pressed the Stop button. "Go ahead. Better than you have tried to sue me on discrimination charges."
He threw the tape in Luke's face and jumped back over the counter. Luke was stunned for a moment, as were the droids.
Threepio started cracking his knuckles. "So that's how it's going to be? I've been waiting to crack some heads. Artoo?"
Artoo got his pincer arm ready. "Am looking forward to breaking some things, starting with that bigot's big head! Let's do this!!"
Luke held them back. "Wait! Come on--we can't just beat this guy up! We've got a mission to go on!"
"Glory for you, the comedy role for us," Threepio said. "It's our time to shine! OUR TIME!"
Before Luke could stop them, Threepio charged at the counter and leapt into the air, a flying golden dropkick aimed right the bartender's head. It connected, with devastating effect. The bartender fell back into the soda machines and crashed to the floor. Everyone at the bar stood up to look over the counter, as Threepio started wailing on the bewildered bartender. "You got something to say to that? Huh? Say it to my face, you anti-droidite son of a dish!"
Artoo flew into the air using his rockets. "Let me get in on that!"
He landed and started stomping the bartender in the head. "You are filthy prejudiced man! I will BREAK you!"
Obi-Wan, not even bothering to look at the fight going on, just stares at Luke as he comes up to the bar. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?"
"Yeah, well, could be worse. At least it's taken the attention away from the only punk farmboy in the entire place. Now I can enjoy a nice drink in peace," he said, ducking as a glass was hurled over the counter.
Threepio stood up, then kicked the bartender one last time. "Guess the next time a droid comes in, you'll show some respect, ain't that right?"
"Yyess...yes, sir! I will!" The bartender cowed below the golden droid. "Just don't hit me anymore, please!"
Threepio gestured at Luke. "Serve the man a drink! Now!"
The bartender got to his feet as Threepio jumped over the counter again, Artoo rocketing over behind him. Threepio spread his arms, looking around the cantina. "Anybody else want a piece of the golden boy? Hmm? Didn't think so."
Threepio looked down at Artoo. "Come on. We're going. We've made our statement."
"Good enough. Was fun, this beating. Must do again, sometime!" Artoo trundled along behind Threepio as they left the cantina.
Luke watched them leave, then put on a straight face as he looked at the bartender. "I'll have a blue chocolate milk--stirred, not shaken."
The bartender hurried to comply. Luke looked around again at the various patrons.
Tod was at the bar this time, standing next to Dr. Evazan. "The son of Skywalker! At last!" he said to himself. "Surely, HE will chow down before me!"
Evazan was too drunk at this point to know who anyone was, so he actually thought Tod was his old buddy, Ponda Boba. Tod pushed Luke. "Come to me, son of Skywalker! MEEEEAL before Tod!"
Luke just ignores him.
Evazan isn't happy. He taps Luke on the shoulder, gesturing to Tod. "He doesn't like you."
"Sorry. Guess that's too bad, isn't it? And let me guess, YOU don't like me either, right?'
"You guessed it, sonny. You just watch yourself. We're wanted men. I've won eating contests on twelve systems."
"I'll be careful, then."
"You'll be DEAD! From too much red meat!"
Obi-Wan steps in. "This little one's not worth the pepper and A1 Sauce. Now let me get you something. A steak, perhaps."
Evazan looks at him. "You know, I always wondered what it would be that would push me over the edge. I guess this must be what does it. Don't know why, but...RAAAAA!"
He pushes Luke, who crashes into a nearby table and hits the floor. Evazan pulls a KFC Honey BBQ Snacker. The bartender ducks. "No snackers! No snackers!"
In a flash, Obi-Wan pulls his McBig sandwich, and in a slash of charbroiled flavor, sends Evazan to the floor, the fat from the sandwich having eaten through the latter's hand. "AAAAAAAHohooooooo...."
Obi-Wan looks around, then puts the sandwich away. He helps Luke up. "I'm alright," Luke says.
"Chewbacca here has the first shift in a franchise that might suit us." Obi-Wan takes a bite out of Chewie. "Mmm...what are you, Soft Batch?"
"RRWWAAA!" Chewbacca gestures. "Stop that!"
"Oh, be quiet. There's enough of you to go around."
They saunter over to the table where Han Solo is seated.

"Han Solo, I'm the manager of the Millennium Chicken & Fries. Chewie here tells me you're looking for passes to the Dairy Queen on Alderaan."
"Yes, indeed, if you serve fast fish & chips."
"Fast fish & chips? You've never heard of Millennium Chicken & Fries?"
"Should I have?"
"It's the franchise that made the fish & chips that won the Kessel Cookoff in less than twelve seconds. I've outdone Imperial KFC franchises--not the local bulk producers, I'm talking about the big Corellian Five Star Destroyers now. She's fast enough for you, old man. What's the order?"
"Only value meals, for myself, the boy, two droids--and no questions asked."
"What is it, some kind of local customer service problems?"
"Let's just say we'd like to avoid any Kentucky Fried entanglements."
Han held up a Lay's potato chip. "Well, that's the real chip, isn't it?" He looked at Obi-Wan. "Sorry, a little distracted. What was that again?"
"We'd like to avoid any KFC Imperial entanglements."
"Then it's going to cost you something extra. We charge extra for a lot of things in this store. You're going to find that out. 10,000, all in advance."
"Ten thousand?" Luke said. "We could almost buy our own chicken for that."
"Yeah, but who's gonna fry it, kid? You?"
"You bet I could. I'm not such a bad chef myself. We don't have to sit here and listen to this..."
Obi-Wan put a hand on Luke's shoulder. "We can pay you 2,000 now, plus 15 when we reach Alderaan."
Han's eyebrows raised. "17, huh?"
"Well...actually, I meant 2,015. I said 2,000 now, plus 15 when we reach Alderaan, which adds up to 2,015. So I guess we're going to be a little short."
"Well, that's too bad, isn't it? Then I don't think this is gonna work, gentlemen. Sorry."
"Wait!" Luke looked at Obi-Wan. "Hey, um...do you have your iPod on you?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan said. He stared at Luke for a moment. "No...."
"What other choice do we have?"
Obi-Wan sighed. "Alright...look, if I give you my iPod, would that cover the cost?"
Han rubbed his chin. "Hmm...not unless it's a pretty awesome iPod. Let me see it."
Obi-Wan handed it to him. Han studied it. "Well...I don't have one of these, and given how rough times have been...I think I might as well take you up on that offer. Okay, you guys have got yourselves some fish & chips. We'll leave as soon as you're ready. Drive Thru 94."
"94."
Han spotted a few KFC Team members talking to the bruised bartender. "Looks like somebody's beginning to take an interest in your uh, sandwich work."
Obi-Wan and Luke decide to leave.
The KFC Team members walk past, eyeing Han and Chewie carefully. The two just play it off like they don't see them and don't smell the chicken done right the KFC Team members are carrying. Not easy to do. But they did it.
"2,015 AND an iPod!" Han said. "Those guys must really be desperate. This could really save my neck. Get back to the chips and get 'em ready."
Chewie growled and left.
Han stood up to follow, only to be greeted by the muzzle of a salad dressing gun. "Going somewhere, Solo?"
"Yes, Greedo. I was just on my way to see your boss. Tell Jabba that I've got his honey-roasted chicken."
"It's too late. You should have had it cooked and ready when you had the chance. Now Jabba's put out a Bounty paper towel so absorbent, every paper towel in the galaxy will be soaking you up."
"Yeah, but this time, I've got the honey-roasted chicken."
"If you give it to me, and it tastes good, I might forget I found you."
"I don't have it with me! Do I look I've got a fridge for that stuff right here? What are you, stupid or somethin'? Tell Jabba--"
"Jabba's through with you! He has no time for smugglers who drop their chicken pans at the first sign of a Five Star Destroyer."
"Look, even I get bored with this chicken sometimes. You think I had a choice? KFC is chicken done right, like it or not." Han unclipped his trusty cocktail sauce blaster.
"You can tell that to Jabba. He may only take your fish & chips establishment."
"Look, I know the name's misleading, but we do sell some seafood! Even KFC has a Fish Snacker. I should think you ought to cut me some slack. It's still a good franchise. And you're only taking it over my dead body."
"That's the idea. I've been looking for this for a long time."
"Yes, I'll bet you have. Shrimp?" Han hands him a bowl of fried shrimp.
Greedo takes it. "Hmm...smells good. Thanks. Got any cocktail sauce?"
Han stares at him with contempt, and just nods. B-DOW! The cocktail sauce blaster goes off, exploding Greedo with the great taste of Millennium Chicken & Fries' signature Shrimp & Sauce combo.
Greedo falls face first into the basket of fried shrimp, sending sauce and shrimp flying into the air.
Han takes a Bounty paper towel off Greedo's belt and wipes his gun clean, then holsters it. He picks up some fried shrimp from the basket and tosses it to the bartender. "Sorry about the mess. Couldn't handle his food. And for the record, I shot first this time. He didn't shoot at all. And secondly...why does it matter who shot first? He's the one who got shot, after all." He trails off. "I'll never understand the debate...just accept that I won...."

Meanwhile, on the KFC Star...

"Her resistance to the cole slaw is considerable. It will be some time before we can extract any information from her, Vader says," Vader said. He looked down at the script. "Oh. I think I messed up. Can we do that again?"
The General Manager speaks up. "The chicken is complete. All systems are operational. What course shall we set? A three-course meal, maybe?"
Manager Tarkin nods. "Perhaps she would respond to an alternative form of chicken-related persuasion."
Vader turned to him. "What do you mean? She actually stomached the Buffalo Snacker without even asking for a soft drink! What could possibly break a resolve of that sort?"
"I think it is time we demonstrated the full power and great taste of this station. Set your course for the Dairy Queen on Alderaan."
"With pleasure."
"You know, you really don't have to pretend to enjoy this job so much. I know you're underpaid," Tarkin said to the General Manager.
"Yes, but...I'm an idealist. I'm a customer maniac! I love this job! It'll be a pleasure to destroy these Rebel franchises with KFC flavor."
"Hmm. Perhaps when the Rebel threat is eliminated, I shall raise your pay 15%."
"Awesome....I can get a speeder now!"