Author's Note: Interstate 295 is a real interstate in Rhode Island. September 19th is Adam West's birthday.
Also side note, this is not a happy story, this is also not going to be an easy story to read, for the issues that are portrayed in it are hard topics and for some are very difficult to talk about. Still, talk about it we must.
Ten minutes outside of Quahog, Rhode Island is the beginning of Adam West Interstate 295, named after Quahog's mayor Adam West, a questionable man with strange and often times unrealistic ambitions, like naming the small stretch of highway, the area around Quahog and the small suburbia around it, after himself and declaring September 19th Adam West Day. On this road is a bridge with a small barricade made of iron bars, more for beauty and fashion than function. Underneath this bridge is a sheer 50 foot drop down to a raging river that eventually lead into the Atlantic, a death sentence.
Peter and Lois were driving into town, having recently returned from a much needed and much anticipated vacation in upstate Pennsylvania. The open air, country backwoods noise and no kids made for a prefect three days in paradise. The simple but luxurious cabin, as well as plentiful wildlife and a spectacular lake view made for three days in Heaven.
"That was lovely Peter" Lois said dreamily as she rested her head on her husband's shoulder, "We should do stuff like that more often. Just us, away from the kids, away from the city."
Peter nodded in partial agreement, for it would be nice to do things outside of kids and work, but he knew that the chances of that were nonexistent. The brewery wasn't paying like it used to, forcing Peter into a second job as a mail clerk at the local mall, which paid even less than the job at the brewery. The Pawtucket Company was doing some downsizing as well as outsourcing the majority of the plant jobs to overseas markets, meaning that hundreds of workers were going to be cut, most without pension and without anything in the way of benefits. Everyone was scared, for the plant supplied 75% of Quahog's workforce, if the outsourcing occurred, Quahog would slip below the average unemployment rate for the first time in thirty years.
"You know we really should think about moving" Peter said, thinking aloud, "Quahog isn't exactly the best place for anybody right now."
Lois sighed and shook her head in disagreement.
"I know that you're worried about the plant" Lois continued, "But we can't just pack up and leave. What about the kids? Their lives are at Quahog, its where they were born, where their friends are…"
"Don't you think I know that?" Peter replied, butting in, "What else are we going to do? If the plant outsources it'll close, if the plant closes than people will lose their jobs and when people lose their jobs they don't get money and when people don't have money bad things happen."
Peter sighed and shook his head in disbelief, the past few days becoming nothing more than a distant memory as the world and its problems reared its ugly head.
"Things are going to be different around here" Peter continued, "And I don't think they're going to be for the better."
Lois shook her head, slowly bringing her hand to Peter's mouth.
"Enough Peter" Lois said as she sat up normally in her seat, pulling her hair out from behind the confines of the seat-belt, letting it fall freely wherever it chose, "We only have a few minutes of vacation left, let's make them count."
Peter raised his eyebrows curiously, for he had no idea what she was talking about. Lois reached over, her hand over Peter's zipper and slowly began to undo it.
"While I'm driving?" Peter asked, "Are you serious right now?"
Lois nodded, "Come on Peter" she exclaimed playfully pouting, "Let's have a little fun. You just concentrate on driving and I'll do the rest."
Peter rolled his eyes and nodded in compliance. Lois began her work just as the car reached the bridge. At the same time, on the other side of the river, a blue Ford four pickup was making its way across. The driver was a father of three, a Mr. Vincent Venitti, next to him was his wife, Josephine, in the back seat were the aforementioned kids, two boys, Marcus and adopted brother Jacques, and a girl, Florence, all of them were ten years old and just about to enter the fifth grade. The pickup's radio was playing their favorite song, Semi-Charmed Life by Third Eye Blind.
Vincent wasn't the kind of man who generally listened to bands like Third Eye Blind-that was more Josephine, Marcus and Florence's type of music, but that didn't mean that Vincent and Jacques, who almost exclusively listened to Yves Montand and American counterparts like Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Nat King Cole, didn't enjoy Third Eye Blind, in fact they preferred it, it made them feel as if they belonged, that they were where they were supposed to be.
Peter closed his eyes, allowing himself a few seconds to let himself go. Lois casually glanced up and had half a mind to stop when she saw the car veering to the left oncoming lane. But only half a mind, her confidence in Peter's driving ability at the moment, was that of a steel bear trap.
"Peter" Lois said nervously, "I'm going to stop if you can't focus. Now open your eyes."
Peter nodded and slowly opened his eyes, Lois had already turned back to working him at this point and didn't realize that Peter's nod was pre-grip on the steering wheel.
The Venitti's meanwhile, were in the middle of an innocent dance party. Josephine, Marcus and Florence going all out as if they were on a dance floor, Jacques and Vincent merely listening to the music, bobbing their heads and otherwise lost in their own worlds, one concentrated on driving, the other on the flight patterns of birds.
It wasn't until Peter was well into the left lane did he fully open his eyes. Excepting the bridge to be empty, and out of fear of a crash Peter's first reaction was to scream as loudly as possible. Lois immediately looked up and, upon seeing that they had become British for a few seconds, grabbed hold of the wheel and turned as hard as she could in the opposite direction.
The world became silent. Time nonexistent.
The Venitti's truck barely missed the Griffin's sedan, only managing to clip it. The clip was enough to send the sedan back into the right lane uncontrollably, going top speed for Peter's foot was planted to the floor as he succumbed to a heart attack, his head slumping into his chest just as Lois lost her grip, sending the car through the barricade and down into the river.
Police, fire and paramedics were on the scene in five minutes. The car found head first in shallow water, for the river was at low tide that particular day, bringing chances of survival down into mere decimals. As the Venitti's were being questioned while the car was being pulled out of the river, a white Prius pulled up to the scene.
"What the hell is going on here?" the driver, Brian Griffin, asked curiously, getting no response or straight answer.
Joe Swanson, one of the first officers on the scene and Peter's neighbor, at hearing Brian's voice stopped doing analytical work for the time being and turned towards Brian with sad and tearful eyes.
"Brian" Joe began, his voice cracking and barely audible, "Don't-don't hate the Venittis, they're good people."
Brian shook his head in confusion, for he had no idea who the Venittis were or what Joe was even talking about. The only thing Brian knew was that something had happened to Peter and Lois and it wasn't good.
Joe gestured towards the family and sighed, wishing that he had just stayed home for the day.
"What's going on Joe?" Brian asked once again, fear entering his voice, "What happened here?"
Six Months Later
Sitting in a cubicle in the office of the Pawtucket Brewery, Brian, who had decided to get a real job in a vain effort to keep the family together, was punching numbers and working on the newest advertising campaign when the phone at his desk decided that it would be a good time to ring. Looking at the caller ID and finding it to be James Woods high school, Brian rolled his eyes and silently cursed to himself.
"Please tell me that Chris didn't set fire to school again" Brian said immediately, knowing full well that it was Principal Shepard on the other line.
"He set off the fire alarm and almost killed Connie D'Amico with a fire extinguisher" Shepard answered promptly, cutting to the chase.
Brian nodded and began rummaging through his drawer, searching for his keys and a piece of paper.
"He's been rather rebellious since the incident" Shepard continued, "Dressing in black, cutting class, heinous vandalism…"
Brian shook his head annoyingly.
"That sounds like a you problem Principal Shepard" Brian replied quickly, for this was the last thing that he needed to be dealing with.
"The boy is getting out of control" Shepard exclaimed, getting back on track, "This recklessness cannot continue. He's destructive, disrespectful, arrogant, and worst of all he's actually getting stupider. If this keeps up I'm going to have to take legal action."
Brian growled, for now he was going to have to go down to the school and deal with the situation himself, something that he had neither the time, the experience, nor the patience for. Hanging up the phone Brian grabbed his keys and the coat that was draped over his chair. Standing from his desk Brian made his way towards the door. No sooner did he rise did Angela, his boss and manager of the brewery, enter the room. Walking down the aisle, her head held high as if she owned the very people trapped in their desks, Angela had the air of someone who desired two things- power and money, and the will to do anything to get those things, whether through bribery, blackmail, sex, or promotion. In her hands was a large file of meaningless paperwork that she couldn't be bothered with, as she passed Brian, she threw the file into his hands and without even so much as stopping or even looking at him, gave him an order.
"Have that done by tomorrow" Angela said coldly, "First thing."
Brian opened the folder and was dismayed to discover that it was more financial and insurance paperwork, the other side of the brewery business. He already had to take work home with him three times in the past week, all of those being late nights with his best friend in getting through difficult tasks, Jack Daniels, and he wasn't about to let tonight be another repeat.
"Can't you get George or Mike to take care of this?" Brian asked, somewhat desperately, "My dogs are barking here Angela I can't be taking work home with me every night. Besides I've got…"
Angela didn't even hear him, for she was already on the other side of the room, completely oblivious to his presence. Brian, seeing no other option, placed the file under his armpit and headed out towards his car, thinking of what his night was going to be like. In five seconds he had an answer, living hell.
The office was crowded, not because Shepard was popular among the students or because everyone collectively decided to get detention at the same time but because Chris Griffin, dressed in a black wife beater, torn jeans and biker boots, with eye shadow around his eyes, his hair frizzled and mopped and spiked jewelry around his neck and wrists was sitting in a chair casually and without shame rolling a joint as if there were no repercussions whatsoever.
Brian pushed himself through the crowd, the file from work still in his hands, his tie wrapped carelessly around his neck and his fur otherwise frizzled, much like Chris' hair. In his eyes was anger, disappointment and fury unseen, so angry was Brian felt like choking the life out of Chris, but then again the spiked necklace he was wearing was already doing half the job to begin with.
"How many times are we going to have to do this Chris?" Brian said, making sure to get directly in his face, "This makes it what…the fourth? Fifth?"
"Sixth" Chris declared, "Sixth going on seventh."
Brian shook his head in disagreement as he slowly began to pace. The crowd of curious students and faculty becoming tighter, as if they were in an ever shrinking box.
"No Chris" Brian continued, "Not sixth going on seventh. Not ever again, do you understand me? You can't keep doing this Chris, you can't keep dragging me away from work to come and bail you out of school just because you can't behave. Next time it won't be school, it'll be jail. I don't think I can go through with that and I know damn well that the last thing your parents would want for you is for you to spend the rest of your life behind damn bars just because you decided to fuck around!"
Chris rolled his eyes in indifference and put the joint in his mouth only for Brian to smack it out of his hands.
"What the hell was that for?" Chris exclaimed as he stood up, "That was mine!"
"Was it?" Brian pressed, "Because I specifically remember a small bag full of green stuff that had my name on it the other day under the bed. It's missing. So technically speaking, that's my joint and my weed."
Brian pulled out his medical card deeming the marijuana legal, at the same time pointing to his right eye, which was slowly becoming cloudy.
"Do you want me to go blind Chris?" Brian continued, "Is that it? Because if so you're doing a hell of a job!"
Chris huffed, "That's what they all say- 'I need it for medical reasons, its okay I have a medical card' Grow up Brian!"
Brian huffed and shook his head in complete disbelief, amazed at himself that he let the situation go from Chris' destruction of property, endangerment of others and attempted murder to a mere marijuana possession issue, which paled in comparison.
"You set off the fire alarm" Brian said, stepping on Chris' foot as hard as he could, causing Chris to wince in pain and take his seat once more.
"You almost killed a girl with a fire extinguisher!"
Chris laughed, "The bitch had it coming" he mumbled to himself.
Brian slapped Chris in the face as hard as he allowed.
"What was that?" Brian asked, pressing for information as he leaned in.
Chris spat in Brian's face and smiled, he might as well have been saying fuck you as far as Brian was concerned. Wiping his face, Brian picked up Chris by the collar of his shirt and raised his fist. Everything was telling him to throw the punch, literally everything- his body, the crowd, even Chris, not with words but with the simple power of silence and stares. Brian lowered his hand and let go of Chris' shirt. He looked around the crowd and barked extensively, clearing the room in five seconds out of sheer fear, despite the fact that they knew Brian wouldn't hurt a soul without good reason.
Chris huffed and walked out of the room, Brian did nothing to stop him, for there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say, that would make this okay. Shepard appeared from his office in the back of the room and placed his hand firmly on the dog's shoulder, causing Brian to pull away.
"I'm sorry" Shepard said, trying to be as calming as possible, "You don't deserve this."
Brian hung his head in shame and tried his best not to cry, he was failing.
"I don't know what this is Shepard" Brian replied, "But that's not Chris. He's not the boy I knew, not anymore. And do you know what the worst part is?"
Shepard recognized this as a rhetorical question and didn't answer. Brian wasn't expecting one and continued without hesitation.
"The worst part is that I might never get him back."
Shepard said nothing, deciding to leave Brian alone. Stopping at his door Shepard turned around, giving Brian one final word.
"If it happens again" Shepard warned, "I'm pressing charges."
"Don't bother" Brian replied sadly, "I'll press them myself."
With that Brian headed out of the office, coat and file in hand. He decided that the ride home would be spent in complete and total silence, for there was nothing to talk about that wasn't overly depressing. Turning on the ignition and driving out of the parking lot, Brian turned on the radio just as Semi-Charmed Life played its final notes.