A/N: Shannakin: Hey there, guys! You know that parody fic that me and NightRain81 have been promising you for so long?

NightRain: That's right! It's FINALLY up.

Shannakin: Well, the first chapter, anyway.

NightRain: Yeah. The rest might take a while, so bear with us. Shannakin will fill you in with the details.

Shannakin: Ok. So last winter, we were sitting around talking, and we got to wondering...what would it be like if the Star Wars guys played hockey? Neither of us really play hockey, or are associated with it in any way, but still, we're Canadian. It's in our blood-

NightRain: Ha. Ha. Ha.

Shannakin: I know. I'm great. So anyways, we sat down with our twisted sense of humor and spewed out little itty bitty chunks of this parody! So sit back, relax, and read what happens when Star Wars and Lord of the Rings collide...on the ice!

NightRain: Fun and violence to follow.

Shannakin: Right. This has been posted in the spirit of game Seven of the Stanley Cup Finals. (Go Oilers.Even though that was weeks ago, and they lost. Oh, well. We're Number Two. Wow. Does that ever sound feeble.) And much thanks to our Beta Reader, fantasizingfluff! Love ya, Kennedy!

NightRain: Now...READ! Seriously, people!

LORD OF THE RINK WARS!

Insert Generic Epic Scrawl.. waiting... waiting... there we go!

Long ago, in a middle earth in a galaxy far, far away, there was a bunch of odd and quirky little bunny rabbits! They frolicked and frisked about in the sun like the happy and small little anomalies that they were. Fortunately, they don't come into the story much, so we'll just leave them to their frolicking.

NOW our story actually begins! Long ago, in a middle earth in a galaxy far, far away, there was a hockey team, which really wasn't a hockey team, because none of it's players knew how to play hockey! They tried and tried, but all they managed to achieve was very nice grilled chicken salads. So, they decided to hire a coach to get them going.

Coach Norton Weenis was a very excellent coach...when he lived in our galaxy. Unfortunately, he was driven a bit nutty when he was abducted by the Jawas, who ran around him screaming, Oo-Tini! Oo-Tini, until he clutched his fuzzy, pink play book in fear for his life.

He escaped them after a few years and was searching for a hockey team to coach. He pulled out a roster that was stuffed into his pocket. He collected it from a billboard on Tatooine. This was a very odd team indeed.

WANG'S DELI
1. Moo-shoo pork... 8 credits
2. Ginger beef... 12 credits a pound
3. A bar of soap... 20 credits when added with water
4. sweet & sou...

Silly coach Weenis shook his head. That wasn't the roster! That was the menu from the Chinese Food restaurant he visited this morning! So he reached into his other rather sticky pocket and pulled out the real roster.

PLAYER , NUMBER, POSITION

Luke Skywalker, 16, Water boy/cheerleader/back up goalie Darth Vader, 1, center, Captain Leia Organa-Solo, 18, right forward
Han Solo, 12, left defense
Yoda, 5, center forward
Obi-Wan Kenobi, 9, left forward
Chewbacca, 11, goalie

'Coach wanted. Will pay REAL credits! ' Coach Weenis read the fine print. 'If job not done well, will be decapitated with Lightsaber!'

"Riiiiiiiiiight," Weenis said, holding the brochure, which, up until this point, he thought was some kind of intricate flower arrangement.

He decided to check out this team. He looked up the address and took a taxi-shuttle to the location. He looked up at the frightening battle station which was the size of a small moon, which was apparently where most of the players lived. He rang the doorbell, and was responded to with a large laser blast.

"Aaaaaaaahhh!" screamed Weenis, his voice taking the pitch of a small school-girls'.

"Who goes there?" said a loud, intimidating voice followed by a spat of irritating mechanical breathing.

"Umm, it's me, Coach Weenis, responding to your ad for a new coach...please don't hurt me!" he whined. There followed a pause and a split second in which coach Weenis heard a mechanical voice saying, "Hey guys! It's the new coach we asked for! Should we fry him or let him in?"

"Meh," said one voice."I dunno," said another.

"Grrrrowlll!" said a third.

"Of course, stupid!" yelled the last one, which sounded the most feminine of them all. (Though the first one came pretty close...)

"Fine, fine. Come in, the door's open!" exclaimed the mechanical voice.

Coach Weenis opened the door and found himself standing in a hall which was occupied by five beings. One of which was extremely hairy and wearing goalie pads, another with queer hair, a weak looking boy and a man wearing a black jacket. The fifth was the most frightening of all.

Coach Weenis peed himself with fright as he saw him... Darth Vader, in all his black helmeted glory.

"Ha ha! Wet!" grinned the weak boy, cackling maniacally.

"Fat!" yelled the jacketed male, also howling with laughter.

"Grrrrrahhhhh!" grrrrrahhhhh-ed the hairy one.

"Would you three grow up!" yelled the woman peevishly.

Coach peed again.

"Are you in need of some facilities?" asked Vader, eyeing his wet pants.

"Would you...?" said Weenis hopefully.

"Come along with me, you poor soul. AND IT'S ALL BECAUSE OF YOU THREE AND YOUR STUPID JEERS!" Vader screamed, latching a mechanical arm around Weenis's shoulders and leading him down the hallway, with Weenis sobbing as he went. He left a wet trail of footprints.

Leia yelled after them, (for that's who the girl was), "Don't forget to tell 3PO to bring him a pair of extremely large men's pants!" This sent Luke, the weakling, to go into fits of tittery giggles. Chewie smacked him over the head, causing his knees to buckle and sending him into cardiac arrest.

Leia shrugged, kicked her brothers twitching body, and picked up a soggy piece of paper that Coach Weenis had dropped.

"Hey! You guys wanna go for Moo-Shoo Pork?"

So... This was updated on June 26, 2006, by fantasizingfluff, and Shannakin, due to horrible grammatical errors. SORRY GUYS! We hope they're all fixed now.

Now, hit that massive shiny button in the corner... see it? Now, type some sort of response. Good, bad, HUGE flames, we can handle it. I like fire.. (slightly pyromanical, I know)

Do, it, or I'll send ET after you, with a massive band of vicious goats. CIAO!