Hmm. I really want one of those mac and cheese bites,
but Lincoln's going to have a conniption.
Then again, watching Lincoln have a conniption is fun.
Ow!
That'll teach her.
Oh, so we're protecting our stuff now, huh?
Fine by me.
[gasping]
Ooh, one of dad's yummy brownies.
Oh, wait, didn't Luan call thi? Well, she won't mind
if I just break off a little corner.
Ow!
The gloves are off now. [laughing]
Luan put that there to protect her leftovers?
Well, I can play that game, to.
[beeping]
[splatting]
[screaming]
That's it!
You guys really crossed the line this time.
I'd say that line was crossed when this happened, brah.
- Or this. - Or this.
[babbling]
This is crazy. We can't go on like this.
If someone could gently let me down,
I think I have an idea.
Per Lincoln's request,
I calculated the refrigerator's cubic footage
and divided it into 11 equally sized zones,
creating the optimal conditions
for what I like to call dairy detente.
Everybody gets a zone.
And the genius part is that no one can mistake theirs
for someone else's because they're color coded.
[gasping]
All we have to do now is divide up Dad's leftovers
and put them in our zones.
[humming]
♪ Wait till he tries My uni surprise ♪
♪ This organic beet juice Will open his eyes ♪
Next stop, yellow zone.
Can't wait to dig into dad's mashed potatoes.
And my destination is the green zone,
where I intend to feast on father's savory meatloaf.
Num, num.
Ew, gross.
Someone put something in my zone called uni.
Whatever that is.
That would be a low fat,
high protein globular animal in the Echinoidea class.
Street name, sea urchin.
Well, see you later.
[meowing]
Must be one of Lori's gross health foods.
And it does not belong in my zone.
Eh. Lucy's homemade blood does not belong in my zone.
Buh-bye.
[meowing]
Ew. What is this black goo? Ew, it smells fishy.
It must be Lana's bait. Not in my zone.
Duck liver paté? Ew!
Lisa, if you want to dissect animals,
don't put their icky organs in my zone.
[meowing]
Where are all my ding ding ingredients?
Dad, are you okay? We heard a woman yelling.
No, I'm not okay.
There's an investor in the living room waiting
to try my food, and all my ingredients are gone.
[meowing, vomiting]
Well, there's my paté and my caviar and my uni.
Cliff, how did you get your paws on my ingredients?
It wasn't Cliff's fault, Dad. We threw out your ingredients.
He must have gotten them out of the trash.
What? Why would you do that?
We didn't know they were yours.
See, we kind of divided the fridge into zones
because we'd been stealing each other's leftovers.
So when we found your stuff in our zones,
we assumed someone was violating the system.
You kids know I love your creative conflict resolutions,
but now I have nothing to serve my investor.
[sighing]
Well, I guess my restaurant dreams are in the toilet.
I better go tell No Time Tim his afternoon just opened up.
Dad, wait. What if you serve him your leftovers?
Yeah, that's a great idea.
You can take the stuffed pepper I've been saving.
And, uh, I can part with your meatloaf.
And I'll give you this soup. Minestrone is now your strone.
Oh, it's a nice thought, guys, but Tim won't want any of that.
He's used to eating the most amazing food in the world.
But your leftovers are the most amazing food in the world.
Truth, pop star.
Look what we did to keep them to ourselves.
Well, I guess it's worth a shot.
Well, Lynn,
I'm going to give it to you straight.
This is one of... the best meals I've ever eaten.
I knew it was a dumb idea. I should have never served it.
I- Wait. What?
I've been all over the world,
and every chef serves me the same thing.
Caviar, paté, uni. It's boring and uninspired.
Do you know at the last place I ate,
the chef served me air in a jar?
Ha. What a bozo.
But your food is classic, comforting and delicious.
And when you travel as much as I do,
there's nothing better than food that tastes like home.
Ooh, I want to be in the Lynn Loud business.