The next morning, Peter sat reclining on the couch, oblivious to his surroundings until Lois came to him, radiating concern. "Peter, have you —"
"Whoa whoa, hang on a second, Lois, I'm watchin' a movie," said Peter, holding up a hand.
"And now back to Jackass 3: Dare to be Stupid," came the announcer's voice from the TV. A skinny guy walked onscreen holding a large rod. "Hi," he said cheerfully. "My name's Sam Etaburt, and I'm going to use a branding iron on my ass." He dropped his pants and turned around, handing the iron to his friend. "Ok, Johnny, do it!"
Johnny grinned evilly and readied the iron. A loud SQUELCH came from the TV, followed by Sam's screaming in horror and pain. "You sonofabitch! You shoved it UP my — my — Oh GOD, it's ROASTING MY INSIDES!"
Lois picked up the remote and switched the TV off angrily. Peter turned to her, confused. "Hey, Lois, what — what the hey? I mean, why did you —"
"Peter, this is serious," said Lois, frustrated. "Brian and Stewie went out to the park yesterday afternoon and they still haven't come back! I even called Brian's cell, and he's not answering!"
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Brian, still drunk, groaned and raised his head from his sleep. Noise. Noise not good. Noise very bad. Noise disturb him from recovering from hangover…
Brian raised a fist and smashed it in the general direction of the rings a few times until the noise stopped with a crunching sound. Brian punched at it a few more times, just in case, then went back to sleep with a smile.
Much better.
"What are we going to do, Peter?" Lois asked him anxiously, coming to sit beside him on the couch. "They could be anywhere! They could be lost, or dying, or being forced to watch Scrubs, or —"
"Whoa whoa whoa, Lois, hold on there," said Peter, raising his arms. "Now," he said frankly, "I don't know where Brian and Stewie are, but they'll be fine. C'mon, they're smart, they know how to stay out of trouble. Like that time they avoided the Ark of the Covenant."
Brian and Stewie, tied to a pole, squeezed their eyes shut as a mysterious force drifted out of the Ark, floating above the squadron of Nazi soldiers and their leaders. The strange spirit, at first glance an angel, soon turned into an evil skeleton, and supernatural light began to shoot and swirl out of the Ark, destroying all those in the clearing who were daring to look at the priceless artifact. Screams came from the Nazi soldiers as, one by one, they fell victim to the Ark.
"Brian…?" Stewie cried out over the howl of noise and wind.
"Don't look, Stewie! Keep your eyes shut!" Brian shouted back.
"I know they're smart, but what if something's happened to them?" continued Lois, still concerned. "It's not like them to just disappear like this!"
"Hey!" Chris giggled from the stairs, where he'd been eavesdropping. "Maybe they eloped!"
"Yeah," said Meg from beside him, joining in the joke. "Maybe they ran off to Las Vegas and got married by one of those Elvis impersonators!"
Chris and Meg fell to the floor in a heap of laughter, and Chris promptly tumbled down the rest of the stairs and smashed into the wall. "Ow…"
"That's not what happened, kids, and shame on you for suggesting such a thing," said Lois sternly, standing up. "Now, if Brian doesn't come back with Stewie in a half an hour, I'm calling someone."
"Fine. Just don't call the same people I did that time I saw a cat stuck in a tree," Peter said, crossing his arms.
"In 2005, a group of local misfits won a costume contest at an '80s TV convention. These men promptly returned home and drank some beer. Today they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire...THE A-TEAM."
"Fluffy!" a little girl called desperately, "Fluffy, come down!"
Fluffy remained in the tree, however, and the little girl looked helplessly at her parents. "Oh, Mommy, Daddy, what're we gonna do?"
A big black van wih an orange stripe on the side promptly careened down the street and spun into the lawn, its tires carving dirt marks in the grass (and also running over the mailbox). The doors to the van sprang open, and out came John "Hannibal" Smith, Face, "Howlin' Mad" Murdoch, and B.A. Baracus (who looked suspiciously like Mr. T).
"Don't you worry, sad little girl, the A-Team will get your beloved kitty down," said Peter — erm, John. "Ready, boys?" He and the others drew their guns and began firing at the tree, chipping away at the bark as a beaver would, until at last the tree fell over (into the neighbors' house), and Fluffy scampered away.
"No need to thank us; it's what we do," said Joe — uh, Murdoch.
The neighbors raised their heads from the "duck and cover" position they had assumed, and glared at the quartet. "Who the hell are you guys?"
The foursome stopped in their trek back to their van and turned around. John took the cigar out of his mouth and growled, "We're the A-Team."
And they struck a celebratory pose.
And stayed there.
"Get off my property!" yelled the neighbor.
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea, let's go." And the Team piled into the van and drove off.
"Peter, that was you and your friends pretending to be action heroes," said Lois, crossing her arms.
"Perhaps," said Peter, stroking his chin and thinking. Shadows crossed his face. "Or was it?"
His question was met with silence.
"Yeah, it was," concluded Peter.
Stewart Gilligan Griffin was dreaming…
"What the devil?" Stewie said, frowning as he looked around. "Why am I in a cornfield?" He looked down. "And why am I wearing a dress? … I mean, it does have a nice color, I suppose … and oh my God, but I look dashing in it…" Stewie noticed music in the background. "And why do I hear 'Chariots of Fire'?"
"Stewie …" came a voice that was deep, alluring, and somehow incredibly familiar.
"What?" Stewie gasped. "I say, where is that coming from? I must follow it!"
"Stewie …" came the voice again, and Stewie began to run, the golden corn stalks rustling as he pushed them aside. The voice seemed to be just out of his reach — it was so tempting, yet he wasn't able to catch it — and he was soon panting with exhaustion, though his desire kept him going. He pushed stalk after stalk aside as the owner of the voice bounded through the field, laughing lightly, with Stewie doing all he could to keep up.
Finally he pushed aside a cluster of stalks and saw a large pillar standing in the middle of the field. And sitting on top of the pillar was —
"Brian!" said Stewie happily. The dog was dressed in the tuxedo he had worn to the Emmys, and he was holding a dandelion. He smiled and blew, and the little seeds of the dandelion were scattered into the wind. They drifted past Stewie, tickling his nose, and he and Brian laughed.
The dog stood up on the pillar and jumped … and he slowly floated downward, toward Stewie, who spread his arms and let Brian fall into him. The two of them laughed again, rolling over and over in the field, scattering the golden stalks everywhere. They wrestled playfully, just enjoying being in each other's company …and slowly Brian stopped, and hugged Stewie close. Stewie beamed, returning the hug passionately.
Brian sighed and smiled at Stewie, still very close. And gradually, slowly, Brian began to lean in … Stewie closed his eyes and prepared himself … he couldn't believe it … this was happening, really happening…
"Stewie, wake up," said Brian frankly, and the 'Chariots of Fire' music in the background was cut off with an abrupt record scratch.
"What the deuce?" exclaimed Stewie angrily, glaring at Brian. "Brian, that's not how things are supposed to end! Now kiss me, damn you!"
"Stewie, wake up," said Brian again, and began shaking him gently. "C'mon, wake up…"
"…Wake up, Stewie," Brian said again, continuing to shake him. "It's morning, and we have to go. Come on…"
Brian sighed. Stewie must have been having one helluva good dream, because he absolutely refused to be coerced out of slumber. "No," the baby murmured in his sleep, "no no no! I refuse to let things end like this, they should be better! No, damn you!"
Brian groaned. "Oh, God. You made me do this, Stewart Griffin."
He leaned down and licked Stewie's ear.
"Mmm, there we go," murmured Stewie. "Yeah, that's the stuff. That's how it's supposed to — WHAT THE HELL!"
Stewie's eyes shot open and he leapt backward, clinging onto the back of the passenger seat. "What the deuce do you think you're doing?!"
"You wouldn't wake up," Brian explained, pulling the driver's side seatbelt onto his lap. "So I figured I'd speed things up a bit."
"By licking my ear?" Stewie exclaimed as he pulled himself into his baby seat, strapping the belts around his waist. "You should be shot for doing such a thing," he grumbled, crossing his arms and pouting childishly.
"Oh, don't pretend you didn't like it," Brian muttered as he turned the key to start the car.
"What was that?" Stewie asked.
"Nothing..."
"All right, Chris," Peter began, looking through his binoculars. The two of them were lying on their stomachs on the roof of the house, scanning the streets of Quahog. "If we're going to find Brian and Stewie, we have to be quick about it. For some reason your mother wants to get the law involved."
"Um…" Chris stammered. "I don't see why we have to look for them. What's so bad about the police?"
"Trust me, Chris," said Peter seriously, lowering his binoculars, "I know about these things."
"Oh, hey, look," said Peter happily, glancing down. "I've got some mustard on my shirt."
He looked around furtively. He seemed to be alone in the park … he grabbed his shirt in his hand, took once last glance around … and slowly began to lick the mustard off.
Immediately a policeman popped out from behind a tree and cuffed Peter. "Hey, what the hell?" Peter shouted in fear.
"You are under arrest for disturbin' the peace!" said the policeman, obviously trying to sound like a cop from an action movie.
"But I didn't do anything —" Peter started to say.
"Ah, ah, ah," the cop cut him off, waggling a finger. "Save it for the judge, pal. Save it for the judge."
"I'm still traumatized from the events of that day," Peter said sadly. "Ya know why?"
He turned and whispered in Chris's ear. "'Cause that cop was totally into me."
"EEEWWW!" Chris shrieked, recoiling in horror, and he immediately lost his balance. With a flailing of his arms, he began to fall off the roof. "Whooooa! Dad, help!"
Peter lunged forward and caught Chris just as he fell, so that his son was dangling off of the roof, suspended in Peter's hand. "I got you, Chris, I got you!" said Peter in a panic, and he began to pull; the effect of this was that Chris swung to the side and flew out of Peter's grasp, into a rosebush on the ground.
Chris popped up happily. "Hey, Dad, I'm okay! Except —" with a thrill of horror Chris looked at his arms and legs, which were all bloodied and scratched from the rose thorns. "AAAAHH!! The flowers! They're biting me! THEY'RE BITING ME!!! AAAAHHH!!" And he ran off screaming.
Meanwhile, Peter flailed on the roof, desperately trying to regain his own balance after letting go of Chris. "Hey, hey hey hey hey, whoooooa!" Peter shouted, and began falling himself, headfirst toward the ground. "Oh no!"
In mid—flight, something grabbed Peter's attention. "Oh, hey, look, there's an M&M in the rain gutter!" he said happily, and in trying to get a closer look as he fell, he flipped himself over and landed on his feet, completely unharmed.
There was silence for a beat, and Peter blinked. "Darn," he said finally, glaring up at the gutter. "I'll never get that M&M."
Suddenly the full realization of what he'd done struck Peter. "Oh my God, I just did a flip! In mid-air! With nothing else to save me!" He did a dance of joy, prancing around happily. "Ya know what this means?" he asked nobody in particular. "Huh? Ya know what that means?"
Peter stopped dancing for a moment and struck a triumphant pose. "It means … I could be a ninja!"
And he continued his jubilant dance of joy.
"Honey, I'm home —" Brian swung open the front door and began to enter the house, before realizing what he had just said. "Let me try that again." He backed out and shut the door.
"Lois, we're home," said Brian, as he swung open the door and entered the house (again). In front of them, Lois dropped the telephone receiver she was holding and pressed her hands to her face. "Oh, Brian, Stewie!" she exclaimed, dropping to the ground to pull both of them into a hug. "I was just about to call the cops. You have no idea how happy I am to see you both!" She seemed on the verge of tears.
"We're all right, Lois," said Brian, his tail wagging happily. "Just got a little delayed."
"Oh, thank God," sighed Lois, and she kissed Stewie's forehead. "How's my baby boy, huh?" she cooed. "Did you miss Mommy? 'Cause Mommy missed you! Oh yes, she was so worried…" Next to Stewie, Brian struggled to hold back laughter.
"No, Lois, I did not miss you," said Stewie (if only to save face). He clenched his fists. "In fact, the only reason I might have is because you weren't around for me to demolish!! Victory will be mine one day!!"
"Aw, sweetie, I'm glad. I missed you too," Lois said happily, smothering poor Stewie with more kisses.
"You don't listen to a word I say, do you?" Stewie grumbled, crossing his arms.
