(R.I.P. Stefán Karl Stefánsson. You were and will always will be Number One…

Alright, now time to start this half-ass fanfic.)

Clyde McBride walked up to a house as he rang the doorbell. Suddenly the door opened, revealing the person to be Lincoln.

"Well Lincoln I made it. Despite your unnecessary directions since I've been to your house multiple times." Clyde greeted.

"Ah, Clyde McBride. Welcome!" Lincoln greeted back. "I just got the food ready for an unforgettable lunchi-... luncheo-... lunch- lunch… unforgettable lunch!"

"Yeah." Clyde replied half interested as he walked inside.

Clyde placed the bottle of soda in the ice bucket that was set on the table. Meanwhile, Lincoln walked inside his kitchen. However, as soon as he opened the door, he saw his oven emitting smoke. He gasped violently as he practically ran towards his oven. He opened it to see that his roast was completely on fire.

"Oh dear lord!" he exclaimed. "Poor food never stood a chance."

He shut the oven door as he walked over to his fridge, noticing a coupon for Burpin' Burger.

"But what if… What if I were to buy fast food and disguise it as my own cooking?" Lincoln then began chuckling to himself. "You are truly the Man with the Plan, Lincoln. Your sisters need to respect you more often and start doing your bidding. You need to show you wear the pants around here because you're the only who does... Soon my sisters will pay..."

He took off his apron as he opened the window and was prepared to jump out. Suddenly, Clyde walked into the room, catching Lincoln by surprise.

"Ah!" Clyde yelped.

Lincoln, with his crazy explanations

I don't acquire the imagination,

To write a parody song

So here's a bunch of words

Blah blah blah yeedie yeedie yeedie

OJ Simpson did killed his wife after all

"LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINCOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLN!" Clyde yelled.

"What? I'm right here." Lincoln replied.

"What in the name of Ace Savvy are you doing on your window sill?"

"Uh. Oh. Oh! I'm a- I'm stretching my calves! Yeah! That's it! Geometric exercise or whatever it's called."

"Why is there smoke coming out of your oven, Linc?" asked Clyde as he pointed to the oven.

Lincoln turned to his oven to see the smoke.

"Uh. Oh! That's not smoke! It's steam!" Lincoln lied.

"Isn't steam suppose to be white and clear not black and musty?" asked Clyde, skeptically.

"Well then you need better glasses because it's steam from the steamed clams we're having. Mm-hm! Steam clams."

Clyde stared at him with a skeptical look on his face.

"Why do I feel like this has happened somewhere on internet before?" he asked himself as he went back to the other room.

"Whew!" Lincoln said as he swiped some sweat off his forehead.

He opened the window and began running towards Burpin' Burger. However, he was slightly nudged by a stopping car, causing Lincoln to fall down.

"Agh!" he grunted.

WASTED

Lincoln got fucked up

Lincoln came walking into the dinner room with a plate full of hamburgers and fries.

"Well buddy, I hope you're ready for some delicious, mouth watering hamburgers." Lincoln said.

"I thought you said we were having steamed clams?" asked Clyde.

"Oh no! I said steamed hams! It's what I call hamburgers."

"I'm fairly certain you said 'steamed clams' not steamed hams. And I've heard you call hamburgers a bunch of names. Burgers, meat burger, vegetarian's kryptonite, but not once have I heard you call them steamed hams before."

"It's a regional dialect that I picked up from upstate Manhattan." Lincoln quickly answered.

"Really?" asked Clyde in a skeptical tone. "Because I have a cousin who lives in Manhattan and not once have I heard him say steamed hams before."

"Well that's because I went farther up to Manhattan. How about we just eat?"

Clyde took a burger and took a bite out of it. He immediately knew something was off.

"You know these hamburgers taste very similar to those at Burpin' Burger."

Lincoln quickly chuckled. "Well then you're taste buds are wrong since this is a Loud Family recipe." Lincoln answered back.

"For steamed hams?"

"Yep."

"Yes and you call them steamed hams despite the fact that they are obviously grilled." Clyde then held out his burger.

Lincoln then began sweating and beginning to get nervous.

"Uh… Ye-... Um… One thing I shou-…" Lincoln stuttered.

"They're obviously grilled, Linc." Clyde said once more.

"...Excuse me for one sec." Lincoln said.

"Of course."

Lincoln then walked into his kitchen… and came back out yawning. For a split second, one would see fire inside the kitchen.

"Aaaaaahh! Well that was wonderful. I'm so full I couldn't eat another bite. I think I'll go to bed." Lincoln said trying to come up with an excuse.

"Yes, I too should be goi- Dear One-Eyed Jack! What is happening in there?!" shouted Clyde as he pointed to Lincoln's kitchen door.

The white haired boy looked back to his kitchen door and looked back at his friend; a calm smile on his face.

"Aurora borealis." he answered.

"A-... Aurora borealis?!" Clyde questioned. "At this time of year, at this time of day, in this part of the country, localized within the entirety of your kitchen?!"

"Yeah." Lincoln calmly answered.

"...I see." Clyde replied as if nothing happened.

Clyde then walked out the door, following Lincoln.

"Lincoln! There's no toilet paper! And the house is on fire!" yelled a voice from upstairs.

"No, Luna! That's just the aurora borealis!" Lincoln yelled back.

"What the hell is oreo bory Ellis?!"

"Well Lincoln, we've been friends for so long now but I still question your crazy antics and motives but… you make a mean hamburger." Clyde thanked his friend.

"Mean is my specialty… Well it's mostly my older sister's." Lincoln replied in a happy tone.

Clyde then began to walk away.

"Help! My mixtape is on fire! And not the good kind!" Luna yelled from the bathroom.

Clyde looked back to see Lincoln giving a thumbs up, smiling and showing his teeth in the process. Satisfied, he continued to walk away. However, a car then hit him as he screamed and flew forward.

YOU ARE DEAD

...cuz you got hit by a car you idiot. The survivors have been overwhelmed with depression and killed themselves

A man wearing a white suit and a blue shirt with short black hair stopped the car and grew an angry look on his face.

"Bullshit! Twice in one day. Lesson learned." the man had a voice that sounded like Hugh Dillon.