RandomReviewerReturns: Lol, that made me laugh. Should rename him Lincoln Guyden. That sounds like an anime fighting game, though.

DreadedCandiru2: I have no real problem with guy, but come on, look at him. The jokes write themselves.

Lincoln Loud sits with his stomach wedged against the wheel of a 1960s model convertible. He wears a red American Eagle T-shirt, cargo shorts, and flip flops. His white hair is spiked, his eyes covered by dark sunglasses, and crumbs spackle the goatee growing from his four flabby chins. A half eaten candy bar rests in the valley between his quivering man boobs and his sweat slicked face glistens in the summer sun. "This is Lincoln Loud," he says, "rolling out, looking for Americans greatest diners, drive-ins, and dives."

Annoying music plays over a series of clips. Lincoln gnawing on a steak, his mouth coated in A1; Lincoln throwing up a faux gang sign and calling someone's nachos "gangster"; Lincoln holding his fore and middle fingers to his lips in a V and flicking his tongue at a little girl in pigtails.

The scene cuts to a beach; people swim, surf, and stroll the sandy shore. A long pier juts out into the water, a ferris wheel spinning ever round, and colorful shops line a boardwalk where street performers ply their trade - one jungles swords, another plays his guitar for money, and another still pulls a rabbit from an overturned snapback.

In a parking lot dotted with palm trees, Lincoln waddles toward the camera, lumbering side to side like a penguin with a club foot. His shirt doesn't entirely cover his stomach, and a pale swath of hairy blubber hangs over his waistband. "Located in western Los Angeles County, Santa Monica is known for its laid back surf culture and hot babes. It's got everything. Food trucks. Head shops." He slaps his hand against his palm for emphasis. "And...comedy?" He waggles his brows exaggeratedly. "This is Luan's Comedy Club."

A sleak, modern building with a black awning, brick patio, and wrought iron railings sits among a cluster of palm trees, the sandy beach and vast, blue Pacific in the background. Inside, people in light, summary clothes eat at tables and booths while a clown rides a unicycle on a large stage. Lincoln sits across from a black woman in a black blazer. "This place keep me rollin'," she says and laughs.

Lincoln stares steadily at her hamburger and fries.

Voiceover: "Opened in 2010 by a perennial jokester with a love for pranks -"

Luan stands in the kitchen with her arms crossed and a simper on her face.

" - Luan's Comedy Club delivers in both laughs...and flavor."

Lincoln fights his way through the door into the kitchen and stumbles. He flashes a self-satisfied little smile and walks over to Luan, who holds out her hand. He takes it, then wrenches his arm violently back. "Ow, goddamn!"

A joybuzzer is visible in Luan's palm.

Spinning around, Lincoln shakes like he just touched something hot, then bends over a metal prep table. Luan flutters her hands to her mouth in shock, then jumps when Lincoln yells over his shoulder. "Stupid bitch!"

He pants heavily...then pales and clutches his chest. "You okay, Linc?" the cameraman asks.

Lincoln's head twitches from side to side. He's flushed, sweating, and sallow.

Cut to Lincoln being carried out the front door and down the steps on a stretcher by a team of paramedics, an oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. Luan rushes alongside, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, I'm so, so, so sorry."

They shove Lincoln into the back of a waiting ambulance and it pulls away, sirens blaring. Luan looks after it with a desolate expression on her face, then hangs her head and breaks down crying.

A montage of Lincoln in the hospital plays. Him sitting up in bed; him talking to a doctor in a lab coat; him being wheeled down a corridor and looking scared; him smacking a nurse's ass. "It was a long, hard road to recovery," he intones, "but it takes a lot to put me down."

Lincoln, as fat as ever in jeans and a puffy coat, hobbles along a sidewalk flanking a city street crammed with taxi cabs. The sky is ashen, the day is overcast, and the trees are bare. "Luan's Comedy Club sucks and if you eat there, you're automatically gay," he pants. "Thanks to her, my doctor won't let me go to Flavortown anymore and I have to settle for crap -"

He stops at a corner shop with big front windows and a pink awning.

" - Like Leni's Juice Bar."

The scene cuts to a wide dining room with stylish wood floors, stools, and computer kiosks. A pretty blonde woman with her hair in a ponytail and glasses on her face stands behind a counter with her hands behind her back and beams at an old man. "Totes enjoy your smoothie."

"Opening its doors in September 2013, Leni's Juice Bar has quickly gained itself a reputation as Chicago's go-to for smoothies and...I don't know, other healthy crap I don't care about."

Lincoln and Leni stand in an industrial kitchen, a blender on a prep table between them. Lincoln rolls his eyes and heaves a deep sigh of frustration. "So, what's your best smoothie?" he mumbles.

"Well," Leni pipes, seeming to not notice how apathetic her guest is, "it's a kale and spinach blend made specially by me." She widens her smile like a small dog expecting praise.

Lincoln sneers. "Really?"

She nods deeply. "Yep. You're totes gonna love it."

Turning her back to the camera, she leans over the prep table and starts adding ingredients; the hem of her black skirt pulls up her shapely legs, and Lincoln cranes to one side for a better look. "First we, like, add the kale," Leni explains in a peppy tone, "then the spinach, then the wheatgrass."

A dark shadow flickers across Lincoln's face. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up."

Leni, hitherto on her tippy toes, rocks back on her heels, looks up at him with big, doe-like eyes, and cocks her head quizzically.

"I'll drink kale paste and spinach water, but I fucking hate wheatgrass."

Leni blinks. "But it's good for - "

"I'm not playing," Lincoln says and throws up one hand, "fuck wheatgrass. Wheatgrass can suck the shit out my asshole. Put it in there and I swear to God, I'm turning around and leaving."

Leni's jaw drops at the invective in his tone. "Okay, okay," she says and holds up her hands, palms facing out, "no wheatgrass."

Turning to the camera, Lincoln gives a curt nod, then shoves his middle finger to the lens, "That's right, fuck you, wheatgrass."

While Leni holds down the top of the working blender, Lincoln goes back to openly staring at her ass, one hand swiping unconsciously across his lips. He restlessly shifts his weight from side to side and whines deep in the back of his throat. Finally, he breaks, reaches out, and squeezes one cheek in his hand. Leni jumps with a tiny eek of surprise, then whips Lincoln a confused look. "Uh, Lincy? Why are you touching my butt?"

Lincoln cracks a scummy half-grin. "Because it's a nice butt."

A blush touches Leni's cheek and she turns her head demurely away. "Thank you."

Lincoln pants more heavily as he slips his hand under her skirt. Leni throws her head back and lets out a long, moaning purr. Lincoln looks at the camera, his mouth a perfect, dumbfounded O. "She likes it," he whispers, stunned, "she actually likes it."

It's clear from his tone that no woman has ever willingly let him touch her.

Without being paid first.

Leni's hands disappear beneath the hem of her skirt, then, wiggling her hips, she pulls her panties to her knees. Lincoln's face flushes bright red and he looks like he's about to have another heart attack; Leni braces her hands against the edge of the table and bends over. Lincoln shivers when his fingers touch her hot, silky lips, then he begins to sweat profusely as he slides them into her. She moans and hangs her head, a spill of hair veiling her eyes. Lincoln rasps for air and begins to glide his fingers back and forth with a wet squishing sound. Leni grinds her hips back and forth, going faster and faster until she can't take anymore. "Fuck me," she whispers.

Ripping his hand away, Lincoln fumbles with his belt, and his jeans drop to his ankles. His furry ass is white, flabby, and pock marked with deep dimples and creases. Leni plants her elbows on the table and looks back as Lincoln hikes her skirt up over her hips to reveal her glistening pink center. When she sees his dick, her brow shoots up. "Wow, I've never seen one that small."

"It gets bigger," Lincoln assures her.

"I hope so."

Lincoln takes his dick in his hand, lifts his stomach fat with the other, and guides himself to her opening. He thrusts, and Leni frowns. "Like...are you in?"

"Deep in, baby," Lincoln trembles.

He thrusts again, and Leni's frown deepens. This continues for several more seconds before she glares at him. "Lincy."

Lincoln goes faster.

"Lincy." Sharp. Firm.

He looks at her, and she lowers her brow dangerously. "Go back to using your fingers."

For a moment, Lincoln doesn't move, then with a sigh of resignation, he pulls his pants up and fingers her again. Before long, she cums with a cry and grinds his hand as her orgasm spreads through her. When she's finished, she pulls her underwear up, and Lincoln's face pinches. "Okay," she says, "back to making the smoothie."

"What about me?" Lincoln asks.

"What about you?" Leni asks over her shoulder.

"I wanna get off too."

Leni touches her index finger to her chin. "Get off of what?"

Lincoln turns bright red and starts to shake. In a flash, he spins and sweeps the blender off the table; it crashes to the floor and explodes, spraying juice and broken glass everywhere. "Fuck you, blonde bitch!" he yells. He slams through the doors into the dining room, and everyone looks at him.

Suddenly, he goes pale, and his hand goes to his chest. Sweat springs to his brow and his legs wobble unsteadily. "Oh no," he hisses, "not again."

The scene cuts to Lincoln on a stretcher, six paramedics carrying him to an ambulance with its back doors standing open. "Luan's fucking...stupid and so is this place," Lincoln says woozily, "fuck juice and wheatgrass, I'm going back to Flavortown"

They load him into the ambulance.

"...on the next episode of Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives."

They shut the doors, and the ambulance takes off while Lincoln's theme music plays.

END.