Chapter 4

The next morning, Stewie felt unusually feverish and itchy. "Damn," he muttered. "What the hell is wrong with me? I've never felt this horrible in all my life." He then unbuttoned his pajamas and saw giant, bubbling red pock marks. He screamed. "My gosh! What's happened to me? These large, hideous pock marks! Agh! There must have been a leak in one of the barrels! I must have contracted smallpox!"

Brian walked inside Stewie's room. He grinned smugly. "Well, well, Stewie. Have a case of smallpox, do we?" He laughed, acting as though he knew something.

"What do you know, dog?" Stewie asked.

"Oh, I dunked your head into one of those smallpox barrels last night," Brian said casually.

"YOU WHAT!" roared Stewie.

"Yeah," breathed Brian. "Well, I guess you'll have a slow and painful death. Bye bye, now." Brian walked out of the room.

"Oh-no you don't!" snapped Stewie. He then grabbed Brian by the neck. Brian yelled loudly for help and flailed around. But it was no use. Stewie opened the lid for the smallpox barrel and dunked Brian inside. Brian breathed in the fumes.

"You idiot!" Brian yelled. "Don't you realize now that this will infect the rest of the family? Smallpox is contagious!"

"Damn…" Stewie muttered, as he heard the other Griffins yelling and panicking.

The Griffins has a meeting in the living room at that moment. "Okay, okay, let's not panic…we have smallpox. It's no big deal," Peter said.

"Peter, it is a big deal," snapped Brian. "Smallpox is a deadly, infectious disease that we wiped out over 25 years ago. We don't want to bring it back and infect everyone else with it."

"How the hell did we get smallpox, anyway?" Lois asked.

"Ow! Ow!" Peter yelled. He was scratching his butt.

"Peter, what's wrong?" Lois asked.

"I've got this really big pock mark on my butt that I'm trying to break open, but it hurts real bad every time I try," Peter said, continuing to scratch, followed by several loud yelps of pain.

"Peter, scratching your pock marks will only make it worse," Brian said.

"How are we going to get rid of our smallpox?" Chris asked.

"We'll have to wait several weeks. And some of us might die," Meg said grimly.

"Isn't there anyway we can get rid of this?" Chris wondered.

"Maybe there is…" Peter said slyly.

Meanwhile, Mayor Adam West was in his office, enjoying his taffy. "I'm a man who loves his taffy," he said, chewing it like mad. Then, his phone rang, and he answered it. "Mayor Adam West speaking, lover of taffy. What can Mr. Taffy do for you?"

"Yeah," Peter said on the other line, "this is Peter Griffin, and me and my family, well, we kinda got smallpox for practically no reason. Do you have any cures or anything for it?"

"Well…why don't you roll around in the sewers?" Adam West suggested.

"Sounds great! Let's roll!" Peter said.