Okay, here's the first Arthur episode to get its own parody; it's "Arthur's Eyes," where Arthur recalls the time he got glasses, and had to go through HELL to be happy with them.

Oh, and would it actually KILL you to at least vote on the poll on my profile? Cuz hardly anyone does.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Arthur, okay? Its true owners are Marc Brown and PBS Kids. This was written purely for entertainment.

Nighttime. Everything seemed quiet on the outside of the Read house, with its cracked windows and peeling paint. But on the inside, a flashlight held in the small, sticky hands of one D.W. Read sent out a soft glow throughout the second level of the home. The light eventually came to rest on a poor with a Playboy Bunny pinup taped to it. D.W. tiptoed carefully to the door and opened it. In the room's rickety old twin bed, D.W.'s brother Arthur lay sleeping. But not for long; she flashed the flashlight on him, and he shot up.

"AUGH, MY EYES!" Arthur screamed. Then the glare of the flashlight was moved away from his ugly face.

"You gotta come with me!" D.W. whispered.

"Why?" Arthur demanded as he climbed out of bed.

"Shh!" The flashlight shone right in his eyes again. Arthur held up his arms, like he would if he were arrested by the police. "It's about our lost brother." When the glare from the flashlight moved away from him, Arthur rubbed his eyes. "We don't have a brother, asshat."

"They've been keeping him a secret," D.W. explained. "Just like how Mom kept her affair with that Mexican plumber a secret from Dad. But I've seen him. Come on!" And she tiptoed towards the stairs.

"Oh, great," Arthur muttered, rolling his eyes.

The two made their way down the stairs and into the living room. D.W. shone her flashlight on the table, where a very large photo album sat. "Don't turn on—"

Click.

"—the light. Shit."

Arthur, realizing his idiotic mistake, flipped the light switch off and tiptoed over to the coffee table. With the flashlight in one hand, D.W. opened the photo album, flipping through a few pages until she reached the page she wanted.

"There! That's him, see?" D.W. shone her flashlight on two pictures. One picture showed a little boy that looked like Arthur on a tricycle while Mrs. Read—in fishnet stockings and high heels—stood watching, hands on her hips. The other had the boy, Mr. Read, Mrs. Read (wearing a black tube top and a black leather microskirt), and a screaming baby D.W., who was in Mrs. Read's arms, together. "I wonder what here is now. I think Mom and Dad sold him to a Mexican drug cartel or something."

Arthur scowled. "D.W., that's me!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"You wear glasses." D.W. shone the flashlight in Arthur's face.

"That was before I had glasses, you retard," Arthur retaliated, snatching the flashlight away from her.

D.W. put her hands on her hips. "You were born with glasses," she insisted.

"My God, D.W." Arthur shone the flashlight in her face. "You were just two-years-old then. You don't even remember it, like how you can't remember the name of the last guy Mom slept with."

"I do too!" D.W. retorted, smacking the flashlight away. "It was...it was...Paul?"

"Like I said. You can't remember. Now shut the hell up and let me tell you the story of how I got my damn glasses."

Arthur's Eyes

The circle features Pal and Arthur swimming underwater. Pal paddles after a small school of fish, and then Arthur butterfly kicks his way in. He opens his mouth to say hello, but he sucks in water and starts choking. His face begins turning blue. Cut to black.

It was a bright, sunny day at Lakewood Elementary. Kids were hanging outside the school even though they had class to go to, either riding their bikes, chatting with one another, or spray-painting inappropriate words and images on the walls.

In Arthur's second grade class, Mr. Marco was assigning the class a math quiz.

"This quiz is to be completed in class," he said. "No talking." He tossed the doobie he'd been smoking into the garbage can before turning to the chalkboard and began writing various math problems on the board.

Arthur, who was not wearing glasses but still wore his stupid yellow sweater, was squinting at the board. "That's a seven, right?" he whispered to Francine Frensky.

Francine was looking at the board as well. "No, that's a two," she answered, frowning.

Mr. Marco continued writing more problems on the board. "That's a one right there?" Arthur asked.

"No, that's a seven," Francine replied.

Arthur smiled. "Ah, so that's a seven!" he said, still squinting.

Francine scowled at him. "God damn it, Arthur, that's a nine. STOP BOTHERING ME!" Mr. Marco cleared his throat at Francine's outburst.

Mr. Marco began passing out the corrected math quizzes back to his students. "These are your test results, boys and girls," he explained to them. "Anyone who got four or more wrong should see me after class for a shitload of homework." He gave Arthur his quiz back.

Arthur looked at his test results. He frowned, seeing that all were marked wrong.

1. 65 x 54 = 3100 (WRONG)

2. 139 x 123 = 6718 (WRONG)

3. 87 x 23 + 91 - 34 = 3930 (WRONG)

4. 192 / 45 + 61 - 8 = 2342 (SO EFFIN' WRONG)

RESULTS: 0 OUT OF 4. (MY HALF-BROTHER CAN DO MATH BETTER THAN YOU, AND HE'S GOT AN IQ OF -12)

Francine rolled her eyes as she saw Arthur's results. She, unlike him, had gotten all answers correct. "Looks like math isn't your favorite subject," she snickered.

Arthur groaned and clutched his head. "I've got a fucking headache!" he exclaimed.

Buster Baxter, who sat across from Arthur, said, "Yeah. Sometimes Francine gives me a fucking headache, too."

Francine gave Buster the bird.

Later on, the kids were in the gymnasium, playing basketball. Buster smacked the basketball over to Arthur, who opened his arms, but because of his awful eyesight, failed to see the ball bounce past him. Muffy Crosswire (who wasn't at Elwood at this time, but for some reason is) was the one who caught the ball; she began to dribble it before passing it to Francine, who managed to put it through the hoop. The kids on her team whooped and cheered as Francine and Muffy high-fived each other. Arthur wasn't very happy.

Buster soon had the ball, and was dribbling it towards the basketball hoop. Francine was standing right in front of it, arms wide open, ready to intercept. Buster quickly bounced the ball over to Arthur, who was running around in circles for no apparent reason. "Hey Arthur, catch!" he shouted.

Arthur put out his arms. "I got it!" he exclaimed. Unfortunately, his shoelaces were untied, and it caused him to trip and land flat on his face. The ball bounced past and was caught by Sue Ellen, yet another character who wasn't at Elwood at this time. Sue Ellen pointed and laughed at Arthur's stupidity before throwing the ball to Francine. She jumped up and performed a slam dunk. Everyone cheered before the whistle was blown by the referee, who happened to be Mr. Ratburn.

It was soon time for the free throw. Arthur was the (un)lucky one to be standing at the free-throw line, ball in hand. The Brain, Sue Ellen, Muffy, and Francine were on his right, while Buster, George, and Fern were on his left. Arthur squinted as hard as he could, trying to focus on the hoop. But due to his horrible vision, it was hard to. Almost as though he had his eyes crossed.

"Come on, Arthur!" Buster shouted. "Don't be a pussy."

Arthur finally threw the ball, but unfortunately, he missed. The ball sailed past the hoop and bounced along into the hallway. Arthur ran after it. Francine couldn't help but chortle, "Looks like basketball isn't your favorite sport."

Later that day, the kids were lined up to get a brief eye exam by the nurse. She had them hold a spoon over one eye as she used a ruler to point at the fourth line on the Snellen chart.

"E, G, B, D!" Prunella recited. The nurse nodded at her.

Binky came in next. "E, G, B, D," he said.

Sue Ellen was after him. "E, G, B, D!" she said.

Arthur was after Sue Ellen. Can you guess how bad he does? No? Well, let's find out together.

Arthur cleared his throat and squinted at the chart with his uncovered eye. "M...P...seven...Q...question mark...infinity sign…L…S…D!" Arthur leaned a little forward. "No, that's not a seven. Is it an eight?"

The nurse frowned and moved the ruler to the fifth line. Arthur was surprised. "What the—"

Francine was watching from outside the nurse's office. "Arthur's in trouble!" she said in a singsong.

Muffy put her hands on her hips. "How the hell can you get in trouble with the nurse?" The other children giggled at her remark.

Buster, concerned for his friend, entered the office. "Gee, Arthur, what happened?" he asked.

Arthur was sitting in a chair, looking like the poor, pathetic humanoid aardvark that he was. "The stupid nurse says something's wrong with my stupid eyes," he grumbled. "I have to go to the stupid eye doctor." He then broke wind.

Later that day, Arthur's parents took him to the eye doctor. Mr. and Mrs. Read stood watching Arthur as he sat in a chair and looked through a phoropter. The ophthalmologist, Dr. Iris, was talking to Arthur.

"Okay, dumbass, what can you see?" she asked.

Arthur frowned. "It's all blurry and shit, Dr. Iris," he answered.

Dr. Iris placed a special lens on. "Okay, now what do you see?"

Arthur pulled away from the phoropter. "OH MY GOD, IT'S A GIANT MAN-EATING WORM!" he screamed. Mrs. Read gasped in horror, while Mr. Read shrieked like a little girl and fainted right where he stood.

It wasn't a giant man-eating worm on the lens, but a small, harmless green caterpillar. Dr. Iris took the lens off and plucked the little thing off. She stared at it for a moment before putting it in her mouth and eating it. When she was finished with her unexpected little snack, she replaced the lens. "How about that?" she inquired.

Arthur nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Yeah, yeah, that's better," he said. "I can read it all."

"Good. A kid who has trouble seeing all the damn time isn't stupid or anything, he just needs a pair of glasses," Dr. Iris explained, moving the phoropter away from Arthur. "It can also explain why you've been getting all those fucking headaches all the time." She bonked him on the head and turned to the parents. "Take your son out to look at our glasses. He can pick whichever ones he wants."

"Dr. Iris, what kind of glasses do you recommend for people without insurance?" Mrs. Read asked as she helped her husband back on his feet.

"Without insurance, you say? Well, you'll need to check out the discount rack. There ought to be a good pair for your son."

Dr. Iris led Arthur and his parents to a large, dust-covered rack on the wall. "All you have to do, young man, is choose the frames you like," she told the boy. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta go shit and smoke." She walked away.

Arthur began trying on glasses. He first picked a pair that resembled those worn by jet pilots. Briefly imagining himself as a jet pilot wearing a jacket and carrying a helmet, he took them off. The next pair he tried on had long, rectangular frames. He rolled his eyes around in them for fun.

"Those look nice." said Mrs. Read, trying very hard to contain her laughter at the sight of Arthur wearing those hideous glasses. "Not."

"I remember a kid in high school who continuously got his ass whooped by the whole football team," Mr. Read remarked. "His name was Huey Martins. He wore a pair of glasses just like those. I wouldn't be surprised if those pair were his."

Arthur took off the crappy pair of glasses and looked at the inner half of the temples. Written on a small gold panel was Property of Huey Martins. He paled, briefly imagining himself getting his ass whooped by several big, tough bullies and put the glasses back on the rack.

"Maybe I'll try something else," he said, albeit nervously.

Arthur put on a pair of glasses that resembled ski goggles. He briefly imagined himself on some distant planet, waving hello to an overweight alien with six arms, who then shot lasers at him. He took them off, and then looked up. "Hey!" he exclaimed, squinting.

Sitting on the top rack, covered with dust and cobwebs, were a pair of brown glasses with round frames. One would think that they resembled the Coke bottle glasses and think them nerdy and hideous, but to Arthur, they seemed to be the right pair for him.

Dr. Iris, who'd just returned from taking a shit and a smoke, took the glasses off the rack, dusted them off, and put them on Arthur. The aardvark boy studied himself in the mirror, trying out different facial expressions. He smiled, liking his new glasses already.

"Those look like shit, sweetie," Mrs. Read said, giggling lightly.

"I think they're very distinguished," Mr. Read observed. Arthur failed to hear the tone of sarcasm in his voice.

"Really? Cool!" Arthur beamed. "I'm going to take them, Dr. Iris. Thank you!"

"That's good, that's great, that's wonderful, kid." Dr. Iris shooed him away. "Now pay for your glasses and get the hell outta my sight." She then began laughing so hard at her corny joke that she began coughing up tar and blood.

Arthur was sitting in the car as his parents drove home. He was so excited with his new glasses that he almost lost control of his bowels. He was looking out the window, observing the world with his "cool" new specs.

"Look at that stupid plane with its engine on fire and spinning out of control up there!" Arthur yelled, pointing. "Look at that homeless bum peeing on that mailbox." He leaned forward. "Hey, Mom, I can see crow's feet forming around your eyes. I think it's time to get some new anti-aging cream. Dad, are you seeing yet another lady behind Mom's back? Because you got electric blue lipstick all over your collar, and I don't recall Mom ever wearing electric blue lipstick."

Mr. and Mrs. Read just frowned at each other, silently agreeing to give Arthur a shellacking when they got home.

The next day at school, Arthur walked through the halls to his class. He was a little sore from his parents' beating, but he was happy, because he no longer had to squint all the time. Unfortunately for the poor little sap, his happiness would not last long, thanks to his stupid classmates.

Francine was the first to make her observation known. "You look weird, dude," she said.

Binky scratched his chin. "Yeah, you do look different," he noted. "Did you gain weight?"

"No!" Arthur snapped, running off. He had only gotten a few steps away before he tripped and fell on his face.

The bell rang. Arthur entered his classroom and sat down at his desk, across from Buster's desk. At that moment, Francine came in.

"Hey Buster, look!" Francine shouted, pointing at Arthur. "Arthur's a geeky four-eyes now!" She began to wave her arms about as she chanted, "Arthur's a four-eyes! Arthur's a four-eyes!" The other students began to chant and laugh with her.

Buster frowned. "Some people need glasses to see, Francine," he stated, picking his nose while defending his friend. "Big whoop."

Buster would not be on Arthur's side for very long. At lunch time, in the cafeteria, Buster took two glasses of orange juice, dumped them out onto the floor, and held them to his eyes.

"Look at me, you guys!" he cried. "I'm Arthur the nerd."

Arthur scowled at his friend as the other children burst out laughing around him. Buster's ears drooped as Arthur took his lunchbox and stormed out of the lunchroom.

Arthur was standing outside. "I've got it now," he said, "you're on a new medication."

"'Fraid not," was Arthur's only response.

Arthur walked home from school, the folds of a trench coat he'd mysteriously gotten pulled up to hide his face. His toddler sister D.W. was in the front yard of their home, playing in the pile of leaves her father had raked up. Mr. Read, meanwhile, was propped on his rake, smoking a joint. When little D.W. saw her brother coming up their walkway, she began to scream and cry.

"Arthur, what the freak?" Mr. Read demanded crossly.

"Don't bother me!" Arthur shouted at him, stomping into the house.

Mr. Read sighed, then looked down at his wailing daughter. He squinted at the top of her head before tossing the doobie aside and picking up his rake.

"Hold still a moment, little Dee," he grumbled, lifting the rake high above his head. "There's a psychedelic tarantula on your head..."

In the safety of the upstairs bathroom, Arthur took off his glasses. His vision immediately went back to crap. He sighed.

"Well, it's better than being called four-eyes. Or a nerd. Or even a poindexter," he mumbled. Then, he snapped his fingers. "I know! I'll get rid of them."

And so the eight-year-old poindexter set about finding ways to get his of his bedeviled specs. First, he used his slingshot to shoot them far away. The glasses (which were safely tucked inside their bloodstained case) bounced harmlessly against the power lands and landed back in Arthur's room. Right after coming across them, Arthur threw them out the window; they landed in the pile of leaves his father had been raking and were returned immediately to the house. Arthur crapped his pants when he saw them lying there on the kitchen table.

In spite the first two failures, Arthur was more determined than ever to get rid of his glasses as soon as possible, and came up with many ways to dispose of them for good. He flushed them down the toilet. He buried them in the backyard. He attempted to sacrifice them in some crazy Satanic ritual he watched on TV. But each time, the cursed glasses always managed to find a way back to its owner.

And with each time they returned, Arthur continued to soil his pants to the point where his mother threatened to put him in diapers and a skirt if he couldn't control himself.

"That's it, D.W.," Arthur cooed to his baby sister. "Nice and steady." They were sitting in front of a hammer peg in the family room, Arthur holding D.W.'s wrist steady as she held the little toy hammer. Arthur's glasses were placed carefully in the center.

Arthur released D.W.'s wrist, and she hit the peg in front of his glasses a little too hard, giggling. Just then, his mother walked in, wearing clubbing clothes and an overabundance of makeup.

"What the hell are you doing with your goddamn glasses, Arthur?" Mrs. Read asked, lighting a cigarette.

Quickly, Arthur snatched them off the peg and put them back over his eyes. "D.W. stole them, Mom," he fibbed. "I was just getting them back." He smiled nervously.

"Take better care of those damn things, you little asshole. You know we don't have insurance." Mrs. Read blew a smoke ring and turned to walk away.

"Okay, mom," Arthur said. He unknowingly placed his hand on the peg, right in D.W.'s sight. With a malicious smile, little D.W. raised the hammer and brought it painfully down on her big brother's hand. Arthur yowled in pain just as Mrs. Read walked out of the room.

"Stupid baby!" Arthur growled before punching his little sister in the face.

Arthur arrived at school with his retarded nerdy glasses on his face. But as he passed by a half-dead tree, he stopped. Quick as a wink, Arthur took off his glasses and stuffed them into his lunchbox. He then walked towards the school, feeling quite clever of himself.

Mr. Marco saw Arthur as he came into the school with Buster. "Arthur, where the fuck are your glasses?" he asked.

"No damn clue," Arthur answered. "I think I lost them at home."

Arthur squinted as he looked around. "It's so goddamn hard to see without those goddamn glasses," he grumbled.

"If you can't see too well without them," Buster said, "why don't you wear them?"

"I don't need them!" Arthur retorted. "I know this school like the back of my hand." He looked down at the back of his right hand. He squinted even harder. "Huh. I never noticed that freckle before..."

Buster frowned. "Are you sure?"

Arthur looked up at him. "Sure I'm sure!" He looked down the hallway. "I gotta go take a leak, anyway. The boys' bathroom is the third door from this corner, right?"

"Yeah..."

"See? Why the hell would I need them?"

Buster shrugged. "Okay. See you in class, poindexter." He gave Arthur the finger and walked away.

Arthur began to make his way towards the bathroom, but it was at that time that Principal Haney and Mr. Marco stepped out from behind the first door, blocking it from the aardvark boy's view. They were talking about a tryst that had occurred between them the night before, something that Arthur couldn't bother with, despite the oh-so excessive details. Arthur continued on, not knowing of the huge error he was about to make.

He passed by the door to the janitor's closet, which was cracked open, allowing the smell of cannabis to drift through the hallway. "First door," Arthur muttered.

He passed the boys' bathroom next, which had smoke drifting out from under the crack. "Second."

He finally reached the door next to it. "Third," he said with a bit of satisfaction. He opened the door and walked in, noting how it smelled strongly of perfume.

He had no idea that he had entered the girls' bathroom.

Francine was sitting on the sink, chatting with Muffy as the latter stuck a candy cigarette in her mouth. "So I told that douchebag that if he even thinks of telling me to go make him a BLT, I was going to kick his ass," said Francine. "And he ran off screaming like a little girl. It was so fucking hysterical, I nearly peed myself laughing!"

Arthur squinted in horror. "Francine?"

Muffy and Francine saw Arthur and screamed in horror. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?!" they cried in unison.

"This is the goddamn girls' room, you retard!" Francine yelled. "Get the hell outta here!"

Arthur didn't have the chance to turn around before the door swung open and a horde of chattering girls entered the bathroom.

"OH MY GAWD, IT'S A BOY!"

"PERVERT! PERVERT!"

"CALL 9-1-1!"

The girls continued screaming as outside, students and teachers alike began poking their heads out of the classrooms as they heard the commotion. And among the clamoring of the girls, they could hear a high-pitched, boyish voice shriek out, "GET ME THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!"

The horde of girls, plus Muffy and Francine, ran out of the bathroom like a bat out of hell, yelling at the top of their lungs. Silence reigned for a few seconds before Arthur cautiously poked his head out the door and stepped out. His sweater was ripped in a few places and his pants were pulled down around his ankles, revealing the Care Bears underwear he had on. He idly fixed his sweater before looking up.

"AAAAAAAAAH!"

To him, it was as though the entire school had gathered outside the girls' bathroom to see what'd happened. Teachers and students alike were staring at Arthur. Some looked on with a sneer, while others just looked on as though he were Bigfoot.

Humiliated, Arthur backed up into the door again. "Oh, no," he mumbled. "Could this day get any worse?"

As though to answer his question, a little first grader ran up and kicked Arthur square in the nuts. He cried out in pain, clutching his special area as he sank to his knees.

That evening, Arthur was at home. After getting his ass paddled by the principal, his parents were notified of the little incident in the girls' bathroom. His parents came and brought him home, where he got his ass beaten even more, and then was sent to his room without supper.

Once his parents had sex, smoked their pot, and fell asleep, the poor boy trudged his way downstairs and into the family room. With a sigh, he sat his sore butt down on an ottoman in front of the TV.

"I'm just gonna have to get used to being a four-eyed weirdo who gets his ass kicked all the time," he mumbled. He then turned on the TV. A special behind the scenes look at his favorite show, The Bionic Bunny Show, was playing.

"Hello, boys and girls," said the Bionic Bunny actor, "I'm Wilbur Rabbit. On camera, I'm known as Bionic Bunny, but in the comforts of my bedroom, I'm Fuzzy Daddy. Tonight, we will tell you the story of how we make The Bionic Bunny Show!"

On the TV, Bionic Bunny was standing with the director and an intern holding a latte for him. Another intern, a big-breasted rabbit woman with red hair, came up to him and put on a pair of glasses over his eyes. Bionic Bunny then took a clipboard and the latte and began to read it before taking a sip.

Arthur gaped at what he saw on TV. "Bionic Bunny wears glasses like me?" he mused. After a moment to muse over this new revelation, he jumped to his feet and pumped his fist in the air. "All right! I don't feel like a nerd anymore!"

On TV, Bionic Bunny/Wilbur Rabbit/Fuzzy Daddy spat out the coffee he'd been drinking. "THIS ISN'T DECAF, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" he yelled at the intern, who was on the verge of peeing his pants. "I SAID I WANTED DECAF!"

The next day at school, Arthur walked through the halls with a smile on his face. He was now wearing his glasses proudly.

"Look," Francine called, pointing at Arthur, "it's the four-eyes!"

"Hi, Francine," Arthur said cheerfully, waving to her, "how the hell are ya?"

Francine was taken aback by this. "Huh?"

"I know!" Binky cried as Arthur walked up to him. "You got new glasses."

"You're right," Arthur answered. Binky and the tall rabbit boy standing next to him started laughing their asses off until Arthur cut in with, "Did you know that Wilbur Rabbit, a.k.a. Bionic Bunny, a.k.a Fuzzy Daddy wears glasses? They look just like mine."

"Oh, yeah," Binky replied. "I saw that on TV last night. Hey, did you see how he wailed on that intern just because he didn't get him a decaf?"

"I didn't see that," Francine said, walking up to them. "We're talking about how Bionic Bunny beat up the intern, right?"

"Yeah. Poor guy. They showed him getting taken to the hospital at the end, all wrapped up like a mummy and shit. With that aside, I thought it was cool how they made him fly. Also, did you know Bionic Bunny wears glasses?"

"Yeah, I saw that."

Later on, in Mr. Marco's classroom, the class was taking another math quiz. Mr. Marco was writing math problems on the board.

Francine glared at Arthur. "Don't even think of asking me to read the problems to you, buck-o," she said, "I have to concentrate."

Arthur shrugged. "Whatever you say, bitch."

"Look out, everyone!" Francine yelled to the other students. "Arthur's got the ball."

Arthur was dribbling the basketball down the court towards the hoop Francine was in front of. To everyone's surprise, he made the shot. His team earned two more points.

Back in the classroom now, and Mr. Marco was handing back the math quizzes everyone took. When he reached Arthur, Mr. Marco smiled. "Congratulations, Mr. Arthur Read," he said, handing him his quiz, "they're all right."

Arthur took his quiz and looked at his answers.

1. 789 x 673 = 530997 (CORRECT)

2. 1902 x 45 / 6 = 14265 (CORRECT)

3. 66 + 53 - 12 x 4 = 428 (CORRECT)

4. 8000 / 20 + 490 x 322 = 286580 (CORRECT)

RESULTS: 4 OUT OF 4 (OH MY GOD, YOU ARE A GODDAMN GENIUS, 10,000 TIMES BETTER THAN MY IDIOT HALF-BROTHER)

"Yo, Arthur!"

Arthur looked up. Francine was standing right next to him, but she was wearing a pair of spiffy green glasses.

"How would you like to play on my basketball team later today?" she asked him. She then took off her glasses and held them out to him. "Like 'em? I got 'em from the thrift store for only $3.95."

Arthur put his finger through where the lens ought to be, but there was only air. "There's no glass," he observed.

"No shit, Einstein; they're my movie star glasses." Francine put them back on and did a pose. "Don't they make me look beautiful?"

"No."

"Well, do you know Wilbur Rabbit wears glasses, right?"

Arthur nodded, smiling. "And his are just like mine," he said. "I'll bet he's very popular on the set."

On the set for Bionic Bunny, Wilbur Rabbit—with his glasses on—was getting his ass handed to him by two security guards and an old lady.

"Oh, the agony! Oh, the pain!" Wilbur Rabbit groaned. "I know the security guards hate me and want to make me feel inferior, but what did I do to this old lady?"

"You slept with my daughter," the old lady replied, smacking him on the top of his head with her cane. "You got a lot of nerve putting your filthy hands on her, Fuzzy Daddy."

"And since then, I've always worn my glasses," Arthur finished. "Does that answer your question, you stupid sister?"

D.W. shrugged. "I guess," she answered. "But it's not as exciting as having a lost brother who could've been sold for drugs." She turned a page in the photo album and stared. "Hey, look at this weird guy with mom," she whispered. "Who is he?"

The picture she was looking at featured their parents at a strip club. Mrs. Read was wearing a sequin bikini top and miniskirt while pole dancing, and the man in question, with a mustache and goatee and his shirt unbuttoned, was throwing out dollar bills on the stage. "That's Dad, stupid," Arthur hissed.

"Dad doesn't have facial hair, Arthur," D.W. interjected. "Maybe Mom's divorced, or that guy was one of her many lovers. I'm going to wake her up right now and demand an explanation." She took off, running towards the stairs.

"D.W., no!" Arthur called, chasing after her. "D.W.! D.W., get the fuck back here!"

I wanted to do the I-8-P-P thing when Arthur was at the eye doctor (similar to a scene from The Simpsons), with him as Homer and D.W. as Bart, but realized that D.W. was a toddler for most of this episode, so I dropped it. There's another episode in the show where Arthur gets ANOTHER pair of glasses, so maybe I'll try the joke out on that.

During this chapter's slow progress, I ultimately made the decision to parody the episodes in the order they were aired. Next episode spoof will be that of "Francine's Bad Hair Day." I am open to suggestions of what to write for that and for those in the future.

Also, on another topic, the new filtering system for stories sucks. I will stick to the site's search engine in protest until the old one is brought back (and if it's not, so be it).