Jonathan gets ready to count the cans, and actually has the nerve to say, "Yuch" in front of all these bean-covered kids just because he has to touch a messy lid handle with his hand. Blue is first, and Jonathan counts 17 cans. Red is next, with 24 cans. The kids count along for the Yellow team's tally, all the way up to 19. Zach gives a rueful eyebrow waggle upon realizing that Yellow's stint in the Upper Class is over for now. With a total of 60 cans, the Green team needs to have come up with 15 to win the reward. Jonathan stops suspensefully at 14, then takes a long pause like he's searching for more in there. But of course the town won the reward. Jonathan keeps counting, and it turns out that Green has 20 cans, just enough to put them over into the Merchant class. That means Guylan gets to feel good about leading his team to the Upper Class, which he of course does. Yellow is back in the kitchen, and Zach unnervingly Taylors in an interview that it's a thankless job, "but if you don't like our food, you can eat your own toe for all I care." Shades of Animal Farm. And Blue is the laborers, which, as Anjay interviews, "sucks." Especially the laundry-duty part, after this challenge.
So it's reward time. Jonathan claims that the choices are about pollution (which, again, they're not), and reveals the first option: a giant, ten-foot-high crate of fresh produce. These kids haven't seen food that brightly colored in weeks, and they predictably freak. Laurel Bostons, "I'm so sick of caahbs and bread, if I eat one more biscuit I'm gonna die!" And the second choice? A pair of gas-powered dune buggies, complete with colored traffic cones and a big barrel of gasoline. Mike spaztastically interviews, "Dune buggies!" And then he pretends to drive a dune buggy with sound effects and concludes, "Awesoooooome!" Okay, so maybe I was wrong about a happy Mike. The kids all seem to have strong feelings about this choice, with the buggy contingent being louder, at least. Sophia warns Laurel, "I will never speak to you again." She's on the produce side, we'll soon learn. Taylor, in the meantime, is practically sobbing with buggy-covetousness, lamenting the timing of her exile from the Council. And indeed, if she could sway them to pick toothbrushes over meat, I have little doubt that she could get her way this time around as well.