"Put the head back on before someone gets stung by a jellyfish!"

Sweat dribbled down Lincoln's forehead as he slipped the squirrel mascot's head over his own. It was suffering to wear a mascot outfit on the sweltering summer beach. It was horrible, in fact. It didn't help that his family still wanted him to keep his distance, at least for the time being.

"Young man!"

A tall, swankily dressed man ran up to the sweaty child, a crowd of cameramen trailing behind him.

"I'm Chad Barkman with Acorn TV, and you've been selected to win ten-million dollars for best Sciuromorpha costume!"

A member of the camera crew handed Chad a novelty sized check. Lincoln's mouth would've hit the sand had he not been wearing a fake squirrel head.

"And because you're so gosh-darn adorable, we would like to give you a starring role on one of our upcoming shows!"

Lincoln couldn't speak. Between the magnitude of his good fortune and his oncoming heat stroke, the boy's mind refused to operate. Chad Barkman grabbed Lincoln's hand and gave him a vigorous handshake.

"Please call us as soon as possible! We're gonna make you a star!"

The next few months were a blur. Mr. and Mrs. Loud were suspicious at first, but when the ten-million dollar check cleared, Lincoln was quickly shuttled off to Acorn Studios in the newly purchased Son of Vanzilla. Lincoln still rocked his lucky mascot costume, but he didn't mind the heat on a count of Son's deluxe air conditioning system. After walking into the studio lobby and being handed his script, Lincoln hopped onto the sound stage and gave a performance that would've brought a tear to the most well-trained, critically acclaimed Shakespearean actor's eye.

Lincoln's show, The Nuts and the Shack, was a financial and critical smash hit. Only two months after the show's premiere, a statue of Lincoln's "Squirrel Jack" character was erected outside the White House. Both Donald Trump and Barack Obama flew in during a live filming of the show just to shake Lincoln's hand, getting into a vicious cat fight in the process.

"Mr. Presidents! Please! There's more than enough of me to go 'round!"

"What a high energy young man! I'm gonna tweet about you, Lincoln Loud! You make me proud to be an American!" Trump exclaimed.

"Mr. Loud, you're an example not just to America, but the world as a whole," said Obama.

"Sign my tits, Lincoln!" screamed Melania Trump, who'd managed to sneak past Lincoln's personal bodyguards.

The Loud family watched on live television as their middle child signed the First Lady's tig ol' biddies.

Trump stood erect, trying to appear as composed as he possibly could in Lincoln's humbling presence.

"M-Mr. Loud, I… I wish I was your dad," he stammered.

"I wish Mr. Loud was my dad," said Obama.

A single tear of distilled joy ran down Lynn Sr's cheek. He took a raspy, labored breath and collapsed onto his wife's lap.

"I-I'm not worthy."

"None of us are," Rita whispered.

Rita patted her husband on his balding head.

"I wish we could all be at Lincoln's show taping. I've got some killer jokes that I'm sure the executives would love," said Luan.

"Now, sweetie, we've been over this," said Rita, "we're not worthy to be at one of Lincoln's tapings."

"But mom! I've got material that'll drive em nuts! Haha! Get i-"

A meaty smack rebounded off of Luan's face. Rita's fingers were curled in rage.

"Don't you dare make a squirrel or nut pun in this house, ever! Only Lincoln can make those."

"Yes ma'am."

Luan rubbed the bright red hand print on the side of her head, knowing she deserved it.

President Loud swiveled around in his chair. He wore a navy blue suit over his lucky mascot costume. It was a suit he had commissioned from the finest Italian master tailors and it was made from the smoothest, rarest silk produced only by critically endangered tibetan spiders. He adjusted his orange tie as an intern carried in a foot-high stack of papers for him to skim over.

"Mr. President, it's almost time for your State of the Union Address!"

President Loud sighed and stood. Inside of his climate controlled squirrel head he frowned. He was the first third party candidate to win the Presidential Election (he had ran for the Loud party, his own invention), and he was the only President with a one-hundred percent approval rating. Still, something within him felt, well, empty. He'd achieved so much at only thirty-five years of age, but something felt missing.

"Mr. President?"

President Loud shook his head. He had the most powerful country on Earth to run, there was no time to dwell on his silly feelings.

The press were gathered with baited breath. President Loud took the podium and adjusted his tie in a way that made him look refined, regal. A member of the press spoke up.

"Mr. President, what is your opinion on the legalization of marijuana?"

"Eh, it's fine really. One of my sisters used to smoke it in secret and I'm pretty sure she turned out fine."

Live opinion polls on marijuana legalization completely and instantly shifted over to 'in favor.'

"Where are you on the abortion debate?"

"Mom and Dad never believed in abortion, or birth control for that matter. That's partly why I had ten siblings."

Within minutes the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. Planned Parenthood centers nationwide were razed to the ground, and the doctors inside committed seppuku while screaming to the heavens for forgiveness.

"What's your opinion on gun control and the second amendment?"

"My dad had a pistol he kept in his closet 'just in-case.' He was always a little worried about break-ins, and I don't blame him. It must be nerve wracking trying to keep eleven kids safe."

Membership of the NRA skyrocketed to the entire population of the United States. Gun stores were flooded with people trying to buy their first firearm. The ATF willingly disbanded and the NFA, GCA, and Hughes Amendment were all declared unconstitutional.

President Loud stepped off the stage, unable to shake the hollow feeling inside himself.

The Washington DC air was cool and crisp. President Loud walked along the lonely streets, with only his thirty-eight Secret Service personnel to keep him company. Night walks got his presidential blood flowing, which helped him forget his troubles for a little while.

As he passed an alley, President Loud noticed something peculiar rummaging around in a trashcan. It looked like the wiggling bum of an old brown muskrat, and it froze when he stopped to look at it. The filthy brown mass rose up to reveal the even filthier woman it attached to. A freckled face peered out of the darkness.

"L-lincoln?" It said.

"Lynn?!"

"Lincoln!"

President Loud hadn't seen his family since taping the twenty-seventh episode of The Nuts and the Shack, because old mamma and papa had burned through all the money Lincoln gifted them. After that, they dropped off the radar completely, taking his siblings with him.

Lynn jumped out of the trashcan. Secret Service snipers hidden in the bushes readied their rifles but President Loud held up his hand for them to hold their fire. Lynn, despite only being thirty-seven, looked ancient. She was deathly skinny and her ill-fitting jersey seemed to be the same one she'd worn at thirteen, except it bore mottled stains and massive tears. What teeth she still possessed were rotten and brown, and she stank worse than the garbage she had jumped out of.

That didn't stop President Loud from hugging her.

"Still rocking that squirrel costume, huh?" Lynn asked in a weak, raspy voice.

"Of course, it's my lucky mascot outfit! Only, I've had it tailored and modified throughout the years so it'll still fit me, and to make it more comfortable to be in."

"Lincoln," she whispered as she hugged her brother with what little strength she could muster.

"Lynn?"

"I'm sorry."

President Loud blinked.

"Sorry for what?"

"For saying you were bad luck. You're the luckiest thing in the world."

President Loud patted the knotted weed on his sister's head.

"Lynn, you don't need to be sorry. You're the whole reason I chanced upon this costume, and it's given me everything I could've ever asked for."

Lynn dropped her weight into her brother.

"Where are the others?" President Loud asked.

Lynn groaned.

"I really don't know."

"That's okay" President Loud pulled out his smartphone, "we'll just need a little luck to find them."