Better Things: A Family Guy & The Manchurian Candidate (2004) Crossover
1.
The weather was sunny and bright and—so far—the day had passed without incident. Through more luck than conscious effort, Lois Griffin had escaped her afternoon shopping with Stewie unscathed. The morning rain of live halibut remained unexplained, but this was Quahog and stranger things had happened. Come to think of it, they were often her husband Peter's fault.
Lois secured her little bundle of joy into his highchair before returning to the car for the groceries. She appreciated the chance to get out of the house once and a while, whether or not heavenly intervention had rendered shopping for dinner unnecessary, and was more than willing to accommodate her little man when he demanded a video rental or two for that evening's entertainment. He had dictated her selections, but she didn't give this unexpected interested in vintage cinema any thought. She knew how much he loved his Teletubbies.
"Ooh, gaga," Stewie exclaimed, eyes sparkling with the malicious glee of youth. "Baby wants the video cassette!" He bounced up and down in his highchair as he cried, waving his pudgy little arms with considerable enthusiasm. He was forced to stop a few minutes later (out of breath, alas) but it was a performance worthy of Oscar consideration. Suck on that, Laurence Olivier!
Lois noticed a video cassette lying on the table and, glancing at the title, set it further out of his reach. "Now Stewie," she said in her usual light but condescending tone, "this movie is for mommies and daddies! You can watch your video in a minute."
"Foul woman!" Stewie cried in frustration, "I want a taut political thriller, not porn! Now give me that tape or prepare to feel the back of my hand! I mean ... Wah! Wah! Give baby the tape now!"
Who could refuse that face? She handed him the box with a reluctant sigh. "Brian, watch Stewie for me. I need to finish unloading the car."
Brian looked up from his newspaper long enough to nod.
She disappeared in the direction of the car.
With a self-congratulating cackle, Stewie slipped out of his highchair and parachuted to the ground. Hidden in the corner under an inconspicuous blue baby blanket was a strange and awesome machine that bore a suspicious resemblance to a malfunctioning toaster. Brian's eyes followed a number of its color-coded wires across the floor to four metal dishes that had been installed in the doorframe of the basement door. They looked vaguely sinister. "I had wondered about those," he said, returning to the paper. "What is that thing for, anyway?"
"Not that it's any business of yours, dog," Stewie replied, "but I am in the process of acquiring a new—-friend." There was something untrustworthy in his expression. Brian had come to expect that in a one-year-old who had rejected Machiavelli's The Prince because it hadn't told him anything he didn't already know.
"The Manchurian Candidate," Brian read thoughtfully. "This wouldn't have anything to do with that, uh, Raymond Shaw character, would it?"
"We have a lot in common," Stewie sniffed as he removed the cassette from its box and inserted it into the machine. Pressing a few buttons, the contraption began to angrily hiss and click. "Who better to appreciate my situation than one that has also languished under the vile tyranny of a corrupt and merciless matriarch? ... And that dishy English accent! Yum."
Brian let his attention drift back to his newspaper. Somehow reading about Mayor Adam West's one-man campaign against his evil twin was becoming more and more appealing. "Have I commented on how gay you are today? Oh yeah, I have."
Stewie is playing in the middle of the carpet with a toy train. "Choo! Choo!" he says to himself, "ha, the little train that could—-BE CONSUMED IN A FIERY INFERNO! Haha!" As if on cue, the little train careens off its track and plummets to its doom. It explodes in a ball of flame, scorching a hole in the carpet.
Wandering through, Brian pauses at the sight of the baby. "God, you are so gay."
"That the man is a brainwashed assassin and would have no choice but to do your evil bidding has nothing to do with it, of course." Brian leaned back into his chair with a sigh. "If you're going to go to all the trouble of bringing a fictional character to life, why can't it be, oh, I don't know... John McClane or Michael Corleone? Somebody at least mildly interesting?"
Stewie looked awkward. "But I thought Senator John McCain was real. Unless, of course... Yes, that must be it! The networks have been lying to me all along! When the revolution comes, Fox News will be first against the wall!"
"No, no," Brian corrected. "I mean uh, you know... Bruce Willis in the Die Hard movies, but I can see where you might have been confused."
"Oh, right," Stewie reluctantly conceded. "I always liked the second one. You know, the one with the plane..."
Brian shook his head and gave a short, humorless laugh. "Ha, I always knew you were crazy, Stewie, but that, that really takes the cake. Alan Rickman alone made that first movie, and don't get me started on the plot..."
"Agree to disagree, then?"
"I guess."
"Good. I'm just going to, uh, finish this, then."
"Go ahead."
The basement door began to glow an unnerving shade of orange. Stewie carefully adjusted his instruments and, with a final flick of the switch, the tape began to play. Energy pulsed into the machine. The lights flickered dangerously before finally failing in a shower of sparks. With a heavy sigh, Brian reached for his sunglasses and slipped them on. As he'd learned to expect from Stewie's many inventions, the subsequent flash was blinding.
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Author's Notes: As one might imagine, I don't exactly own any of the characters featured in this or any of the chapters of this story and no harm is intended by their use here. Although it isn't necessary, an understanding of the original film and the plethora of other random references scattered throughout this story would be useful. What else do people put in these notes, anyway? Other than, "I'll finish this, I'll promise." but that rather implies I expect somebody to read this. I have these doubts.
Oh, and for any fans of The Manchurian Candidate on LiveJournal are encouraged to check out the tiny, unimportant 'mcandidate' community... because I'm so alone.