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Chapter Two: Stu's Story-

"Dil!" screamed Stu, as he watched his mentally challenged son surrounded by flames.

"Daddy! Fire, Daddy! Fire burn!" Dil desperately reached his arms out to his father.

"I'll save you, Dil!" Stu ran toward his mentally retarded son, but a burning beam fell in front of him. He lost sight of Dil and also couldn't hear him, anymore. "DIL!" he screamed and jolted awake.

Stu, panting, put his hand up to his cold, wet forehead. Relief sunk in when he realized he'd just been dreaming. Dil? Dead? "What an absurd proposition!" He yelled loudly. He reached over to his Jewish wife, Deedee's side of the bed and felt for her. He wanted to touch her Jew boobs. She wasn't there. Also, he wasn't in his bed; he was on his couch. It all came crashing back to him in a crashing realization of crashingness. His retarded son was dead. He did die in that fire. Dil, Deedee, Pop, Drew, Charlotte, Howard, Howard's Lesbian Wife, Chaz, Chaz's Chinese Bride, and Suzie's Black Parents, had all died in that fire two years ago.

Stu sat up on the couch he had been sleeping on (although he didn't sleep much these days) and let out a heavy sigh. He screamed "Dil!" in a flat monotone. He got up and went upstairs. He walked through the dance studio. He placed his hands flat on the wall where his mentally challenged, half-Jewish son's door used to be, slammed his forehead onto his hands and sobbed for 4 hours straight. Then he walked over to where he and Deedee used to slumber. He remembered the picture that his retarded son drew for him the day before the fire. "Drew! Come back, Drew, I just want to talk to you! Please, Drew! If I could just…" "The Sobs," as Stu called them, took over his body and left him unable to complete his plea.

After a good 20 hours of The Sobs, Stu's over-weight, geriatric dog-Spike- waddled over to him. "Stu," said Spike "You need to pull yourself together."

"But it's so hard Spike!" Stu complained, complainingly.

"I know," replied Spike, "I know things are ruff for you. I miss everybody, too."

"You don't understand, Spike. You're the only one that understands me."

"Everything will be okay, Stu." Spike reassured him. Then he pissed on the floor and waddled down the stairs, piss running down his leg with each step.

"Come back!" Stu called in a hoarse whisper like Rose from Titanic. He blew the whistle that he had around his neck shudderingly. Then he said: "Well, this pasta ain't gonna cook itself." And went downstairs to take a bath.

He entered his bathroom, filled the sink and proceeded to take a whore bath, taking extra care to wash his thick, purple chest rug, lest he anger "The Voices." That's why he had a giant X-mas tree in the bathroom- it kept The Voices at bay. "The Voices hated X-mas, the whole X-mas season. Please don't ask why, no one quite knows the reason," sang Stu loudly as he shampooed his chest rug to a lustrous shine.

Then Stu saw That Arnie Grape Kid looking in through the giant floor-to-ceiling window that he had installed in the bathroom. That Arnie Grape Kid was shriek-laughing and pointing at Stu. Stu walked over to the window and smashed his twig and berries up against the window that was already greasy from the numerous other times that he had smashed his genitals against it. That only made That Arnie Grape Kid laugh even harder. He was laughing so hard that he wasn't even making any sound anymore- just a series of spastic movements. So Stu figured that he would call Howard to come help him diffuse the situation. "Howard! Howard! Howard!" But Howard didn't show up. So, naturally, Stu started banging his head against the window in frustration.

Stu heard angry footsteps approaching the door. Then he heard the door slam open. Figuring it was The Voices coming to get him, he didn't stop doing what he was doing. It was best to let them think that you were unaware of their existence. "Stu! What the fuck are you doing!?" His hipster son, Tommy, rudely barged in on his peaceful whore bath. "He's a child!" Tommy said as he marched angrily toward him and pulled up his father's pants.

Stu tried to calm his son down by regailing him with a charming story of his youth, but his son was unappreciative. He just didn't understand him these days. Stu then gently expressed concern over his son's choice of wardrobe, but that only made him angrier. Tommy marched his father to the couch and told him to "Go the fuck to sleep."

"Couch, what am I going to do?" He asked. The couch told Stu that he should go to the airport and ride the baggage carousel naked. "I don't know Couch, last time I did that it got me in an awful lot of trouble."

"It'll be fine, Stu. Have I steered you wrong before?"

"No. In fact, you're the only one I can really trust."

"Indeed," said Couch "And when you venture out on the morrow, beware the New World Order- the Illuminati are everywhere."