[Pig is crying that his Grammy's truffle pie recipe is being sold to Max Fripplehoot.]
Okay, look on the bright side, alright? You can still make the pies for us.
Uh, that's a big negatory. You see, once you sign this contract, the recipe is mine. You can never make these pies again.
Never-- make pies-- again?
[Otis imagines himself and the gang in a cloudy heaven on floating pies.]
Hey! What in the name of canned ham are you all staring into space for?
Sorry, Fripplehoot, the pie's not for sale.
[The animals gasp.]
What the--
We have something that's worth more than a million bajillion dollars.
A zillion krajillion dollars?
No, our Sunday pie brunches. And we wouldn't give them up for anything.
[flabbergasted] Why, I-- This is outrageous! You'll hear from my lawyers, and by the way, those are the ugliest animal costumes I've ever--[Otis ejects him from the barn] seeeeeeeeeeeeen--!
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