The Last Episode, by Dickfart
One day Meg woke up and had diarrhea. She also had cramps and was on her period, and grease and pimples lined her hairline. Her armpits smelled like a boy's locker room and her toe nails handn't been clipped in over six months. Once she was done pushing liquid chunks out of her ass and red meat out of her stink hole, she flushed the toilet and took a shower.
She managed to wash away all of the shit and blood that crusted her ass and most of the skunky stink off her skin, but she was still in a fucking bad mood. Chris ate all the damn chocolate in the house, and instead of buying tampons her dad spent the money on beer. She hated her family so much and was tired of all of them, just like everyone else in the known universe. Her mom treated her like shit. Her dad treated her like shit. Her brothers were both pieces of shit, but were treated like kings compared to her. Her dog played with her feelings constantly, giving her those soulful eyes, but never wanting to make love to her unless he was really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, REALLY drunk.
And she was so fucking sick of it all. This was her last day at high school, and they were going to get one more grand slam of bullying in before graduation for sure. Her prom date was a damn sack of potatoes named Rick, but even Rick went and got himself mashed at some cocksucker's potato party instead on prom night. That was the last straw.
She only had room up her cunt for a tampon, but there was plenty of room in her ass for a semi-automatic rifle. Grandpa Pewterschmidt bought that and countless other weapons for her, on the condition that she eventually turn those weapons on a certain fat fuck that nobody likes.
"Good morning, worst child. Nyehe he he," said Peter, throwing an egg at Meg. She could pistol whip him at that exact moment, but now was not the time.
"It's my last day of high school, if anyone cares," said Meg, toasting herself a couple of Poptarts.
"Oh sweetie, you know we don't," said Lois. It was all Meg could do not to shove that snooty twat's fingers in the toaster with her processed cardboard pastry breakfast.
"Meg's on her period, ha ha ha ha ha!" said Chris, spotting the blood stain on Meg's pajama bottoms.
"Oh Meg, that's disgusting!" said Peter, now beating his daughter with a newspaper. She took the beating, because now was not the time, but oh. Oh was it tempting. Oh was it tempting.
"Meg, that's the third pair you've stained with your filth," said Lois scathingly.
"I have PCOS, you bitch!" said Meg. She took off her pants, threw them at her mom, and ran up the stairs crying.
"Sheesh, what crawled up her butt?" said Peter.
It was all a rouse, though. Meg dressed and went to school, the semi-automatic wedged deep within her sphincter. The blood on her pajama bottoms, all three times, were a warning. That was strike three. Before the day was done, they were out.
"Eww, it's Meg," said Connie D'amico. "Only girls without mustaches are allowed on the bus."
Meg pulled a pistol out of her armpit and shot that bitch in the face.
"OH MY GOD!" said the bus driver.
"I won't shoot you. Just take us to school," said Meg, holding the barrel to the bus driver's head. "NOW!"
The tires of the bus screeched along the pavement.
"As for the rest of you, oh, you'll see."
The bus was dead silent all the way to school, and when the driver stopped, Meg told him to get out. He ran off screaming without looking back once.
The rest of the students tried to pile out, but Meg shut the door and shot one fucker in the temple.
"SIT THE FUCK DOWN AND SHUT UP!" she said.
"Please don't kill us," one girl wailed. Meg shot her ass too.
"ALL OF YOU ARE GUILTY!" said Meg. "If you didn't bully me, then you stood by and watched. What did you think would happen? That I'd lay down and fucking... I. SAID. SIT. DOWN. CHRIS."
"I'm telling mom!" said Chris, and Meg popped a cap in his fat ass without a second thought. His blubber jiggled when he landed, and blood and twinkie frosting painting the floor of the bus.
"There. I killed my own fucking brother. Happy now? Anyone who says one goddamn word gets it. UNDERSTAND?"
Everyone nodded, and Meg turned the bus on and floored it straight into the school building, planting a few grenades and hopping out the window before impact. She stood and walked off casually as the school exploded behind her.
"Giggity," said Quagmire, driving by as Meg tossed her shirt away revealing her blood-soaked bra. She pulled out her gun and shot his ass too, his car spiraling into the nearest ditch. It took out a jogger along the way.
She blew the smoke from the barrel, reloaded the gun, and went along her way.
Some time later, Joe Swanson pulled up beside her.
"Meg, why aren't you in school? And why are you soaked in blood? Wait a minute..."
"My dad is a fucking cocksucker who assaults me and calls me names, and you've never done a thing about it," said Meg, pointing her gun toward the cop. "FUCK DA POLICE!"
"Now Meg. I am a trained professional. Put down the gun and let's talk about this."
"What? So you can beat me within an inch of my life like you would black people? I don't think so, you donut-snorting government whore."
"I'M NOT RACIST! I HAVE BLACK FRIENDS! Oops, I pooped a little."
"Wonderful..." said Bonnie, rolling her eyes. "Let's change you now before you get a rash, dear."
"NONE OF YOU TAKE ME SERIOUSLY!" said Meg, taking several shots. She got Bonnie in the arm and Joe in the jaw, and before any of them knew it a tank fell from the sky, crushing the couple to death instantly.
"HURRY UP AND KILL PETER!" said Carter from his private cargo jet.
"I'M WORKING ON IT, GRANDPA!" said Meg, stomping her way back home like a petulant baby. She needed a new tampon anyway.
Along the way, Brian and Stewie were on the corner singing about LSD or some shit, and got an entire crowd of people going. For the hell of it, Meg threw a grenade into that crowd, obliterating them all. Statistically speaking, at least eight hundred of them have bullied Meg at some point.
"Hey, you fat cow! How dare you decimate my minions?" said Stewie. "Being the evil baby is my job!"
"Meg, you can't just kill people because you feel like it. What would Lois and Peter think?" said Brian Seth MacFarlanely.
Meg spit. "Do I look like I care?"
"Come on, Meg. This isn't the ehhh that I know. Let's go home and talk about this."
"I'M SICK OF TALK!" Meg ripped her pants off now, her muffin top becoming full-blown nudity. She crapped her semi-automatic out and filled that insufferable dog and baby full of enough holes to make swiss cheese jealous. They both dropped fucking dead, along with a few other bystanders, and then she heard the sound of police sirens. "Fuck, I'm running out of time. Gotta get to the tank."
So she stomped petulantly back to the tank. She didn't want to use a tank, but now that the cops were hot on her heels it was the only way to crush them while she got home. And crush them she did, barreling through cars and traffic. Adam West stood on the sidewalk and watched, eating cheezdoodles and commenting that the word "cheese" isn't supposed to have a 'z' in it. In his world, that was the most pressing issue while a mostly naked, blood-soaked, homicidal teenager on her period went on a killing rampage sponsored by Coca-Cola and her rich grandfather.
She didn't care who she ran over. Tons of cops. Cleveland and his bathtub. Every Asian hooker Quagmire ever slept with. Every Rhode Island fisherman. Every dumb celebrity that no one cares about, otherwise known as every celebrity. Every fucking person in Quahog was in her way. She shot down that stupid chicken her dad always got into fights with. She took pot shots and got a few drones and helicopters hot on her trail. It was fucking Armageddon on the way to the Griffin household, and once she made it, every cop that wasn't dead yet surrounded her house.
"COME OUT, MEG GRIFFIN. WE JUST WANT TO TALK," said the cop.
"Let me handle this," said Peter. "Meg, you're too meek and ugly to be a murderer. No one's gonna want to see your mug shot in the news. That's what college football players are for."
"THOSE ARE RAPISTS, DUMBASS!" Meg screeched into the tank's megaphone. "SAY YOUR PRAYERS, YOU FAT FUCK."
"Meg, this is crazy! Stop this now!" Lois urged.
"WHY SHOULD I, MOM? YOU AND I USED TO BE BEST FRIENDS, UNTIL YOU STARTED BULLYING ME LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU LIKE I DID CHRIS, BRIAN, AND STEWIE."
"Killing Lois wasn't part of the deal!" Carter intercepted. Meg's response was turning her cannon on him and shooting him down. His private cargo jet spiraled downward, engulfing an entire SWAT car and dramatic orchestra in flames, spewing shrapnel everywhere. Everyone outside of the tank was either dead, or bleeding now.
"IT'S OVER, YOU FUCKS. NO ONE TELLS MEG WHAT TO DO!"
"Shut up, Meg," said Seth MacFarlane, threatening her with an eraser. Lois and Peter thought they were saved by the word of God, but then the CIA showed up, and Stan Smith had a gun in hand.
"M.E.G., I'M GETTING REALLY FED UP WITH THIS ORGASM!"
Sleeper agent Mega Extermination Girl turned off at Stan's command.
"Stan, wut r u doing?" said Seth MacFarlane.
"Father that art IRL, hallowed be thy name, stop this madness!" Stan urged. "You've created something so much better in MY show. Why do you persist with this ugly cash cow riding on the coattails of the Simpsons?"
"If it worked for Trey Parker and Matt Stone, why not me?" said Seth butthurtly, then he shook his head. "Wait, I don't owe you an explanation. I created you. M.E.G., I order you to shut up one last time."
"T.O. M.A.S.T.E.R. I. O.B.E.Y." M.E.G. said robotically, pointing her cannon toward Stan, Peter, and Lois. They all gasped as they were blown to oblivion, and then the sleeper agent M.E.G. awoke, confused.
"Wait, what?" said Meg.
"Congratulations! You survived!" said Seth MacFarlane. The he wrote the words "The End" below Meg. Her final words were "but I'm still a virgin!"
"Sorry, Meg," said Seth. "Unlike Groening and Republicans, I have the sense and decency to end my shit show."
He was lying, of course, because a week later Family Guy came back and the Griffin family went on vacation to Aruba. Just because someone is a self-proclaimed Liberal doesn't mean they're not a corporate sellout.
The End