[While the Louds are eating spaghetti and meatballs for dinner at the dining room table that evening…]
[impressed] Wow, that's your sixth plate tonight, honey. You must be feeling better.
Oh, yeah. Thanks to this guy. [points to her brother, with everyone looking at him] He helped me see that I shouldn't make such a big deal about having a critic. Everyone has 'em, especially you guys.
I think you mean everybody but me. [chuckles]
Well, no. You have that one judge who says your ribbon routine is weaksauce. Oh, wait, no, no, wait, no, no. Lame. No, no, wait. What was the word she used, Lincoln?
Uninspired.
Bingo. There it is. [Lola whimpers and sulks in disappointment] Relax. It's not just you. Lincoln pointed out that you all have a hater. Tell 'em.
Sure. Well, Luna, the Burnt Bean manager thinks her grandma's piccolo band is better than the Moon Goats. [Luna sulks in dismay; to Luan] Luan, one user thinks you're about as funny as a stubbed toe. [Luan sulks in sorrow; to his father] Dad, Mr. Grouse thinks you should stick to lasagnas. [to his mother] Mom, one reader said your advice ruined her life. [to Lisa] And Lisa, some scientists are really over Todd.
[Lynn Sr., Rita and Lisa all sulk in distress, one by one]
Knowing you guys all have critics sure made me feel better. Linky, can you pass the salt?
You betcha.
[Later, throughout the night… the Louds have trouble sleeping after Lincoln exposed their critics]
[mumbling] Over Todd.
[snorts] Uninspired.
[gnawing on her bed sheets] Piccolos…
[bolting out of bed] I ruined her life!
Stick to lasagna… [attempts to leave, but falls off the bed]
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