Luke puts down the drumstick and walks over to Obi-Wan. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"
"I felt a great disturbance in the Food, as if millions of stomachs suddenly cried out in hunger and were suddenly silenced. I fear something terrible has been cooked. ... You better...get on with your exercises."
Han Solo walks in and sits down. "Well, you can forget your troubles with those KFC slugs. I told you I'd outcook 'em."
Nobody seemed to notice him. "Don't everybody thank me for great customer service at once. Anyway, we should reach Alderaan at about 0300 hours. At which time I'll be expecting my 2,015 in full." He looks at Obi-Wan, dead serious. "And your iPod."
"Good thing I have an iPod Mini you don't know about," Obi-Wan muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing. You'll be getting paid as agreed."

Over at the game table, Artoo was playing Burgertime as it was his turn to go. Chewbacca and C-3PO watched with interest.
"Now, be careful, Artoo," Threepio said.
Artoo deftly maneuvered the Chef to create the last burger and finish the level. Chewbacca was irritated.
"He made a fair move," Threepio said. "Screaming about it won't help you and your no-video-game-talent having behind."
Han looked over. "Let it go. It's not wise to upset a Cookiee."
"But sir, nobody ever worries about upsetting a droid."
"That's 'cause a droid don't give people harmful trans fats when they're chewed. Cookiees are known to do that."
"I see your point, sir," Threepio said. "I suggest a new strategy, Artoo: Let the Cookiee win."
Chewbacca rwaaarred in agreement.

Obi-Wan watched Luke with interest, as the young French Fry was cooking the drumstick. "Remember, a French Fry can feel the Food flowing through him."
"Okay, I'm going to ignore the obvious joke there," Luke said. "You mean it controls your actions when you cook?"
"Partially, but it also bakes on command. Like a great oven, in a mystical sort of way."
Luke turned the heat up a little too high, and some grease popped him. "Ow!"
"Ha ha ha ha!" Han laughed. "Ancient chicken and hokey recipes are no match for a bottle of cocktail sauce at your side hip."
"You don't believe in the Food, do you?"
"Kid, I've travelled from one side of this galaxy to the other, and seen a lot of strange stuff cooked up. But I've never seen anything to make me believe there's one all-powerful Food controlling every wing. There's no mystical energy meal controls my destiny. It's all a lot of simple chicken and sauces."
Obi-Wan stood. "I suggest you try it again, Luke. This time, let go your conscious self and cook on instinct." He pulled a hair net down over Luke's face.
"But...with the hair net down, I can't even see! How am I supposed to cook?"
"Your eyes can deceive you. Don't trust them. Oh, and uh, don't try this at home, kids. It's rather dangerous to leave food unattended while it's cooking."
"Yeah, you're tellin' me." Luke turns on the stove again. Again the grease popped at him, and he dodges in dismay.
Obi-Wan urges him on. "Stretch out with your meal wings!"
Luke again focuses. The drumstick flashes out and catches each globule of grease popping up.
"You see? You can do it. Unlike your father. He got laid out when I flicked that Chicken McNugget at him. It was embarrassing. Some Chosen One he turned out to be."
"What?"
"Seriously. You probably wouldn't be taken down by that move. Which is why I'd rather let Vader kill me than risk having to fight you once you turn to the dark side and kill everybody off like your father did. I'm sort of a coward that way, from a certain anti-Obi-Wan point of view."
"Is this...in the script?" Luke picks up the script and starts flipping pages.
"Uh, Luke, you really should wipe your hands before you pick up the script like that. And turn the stove off, too."
"Oh, what are you worried ab--" WHOOSH! The Food Wars script catches on fire and burns up in an instant. Luke stands there in shock. "See, now there's your lesson for fire safety, kids. That was just stupid of me! (Sigh) Now I'm going to have to share with you, Ben."
"You can forget that," Obi-Wan said. "Share with Threepio. He doesn't have any meaningful lines. And no one even gets to see his face, except that one time in Attack of the Cloned Food, when he's in that nightclub scene."
Threepio points at Obi-Wan. "You know, I can hear you from over here. You don't want no parts of this. Trust me."
Obi-Wan puts his hands up in protest. "Alright, alright. No need for any more golden dropkicks in the story. Besides, it's not in the script, anyway."
"You're quite smart, for a human being. Better stay that way." Threepio turned back to continue watching the Burgertime game.

"I call it luck," Han said. "Wait, that sounds so disjointed now. You guys went way off base with these lines."
"In my experience, there's no such thing as off-base, not when it comes to comedy," Obi-Wan said. "That's why I'm the show-stopper, and you're just going to do a whole bunch of awesome movies in your career and follow them up with Indiana Jones 4."
"But that would make...me the show-stopper, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, you're right. I suppose it would." Obi-Wan was quiet for a long moment. "Well...let's just continue on, shall we? I'll just leave that alone for awhile."
Han nodded. "Looks like we're coming up on Alderaan."
Luke looked at Obi-Wan. "You know, I did feel something. I could almost see the stove!"
"That's good!" Obi-Wan put a hand on Luke's shoulder. "You've taken your first step into a larger meal. But please, exercise a bit more fire safety. Never hold paper near a stove. It's quite dangerous."