Chapter 9: Father of the Year

Wake up.

Look at my wife.

Still asleep.

Of course.

Get out of bed.

Shower.

Brush teeth.

Get dressed.

Go downstairs.

Stewie isn't there.

Bummer.

Start breakfast.

The day begins.

Rinse.

Repeat.

Brian was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Making breakfast in the morning was second nature now, especially when it was something uncomplicated like today. Eggs and bacon. He could make them in his sleep. In fact, sometimes he felt like he sleepwalked through his whole day. Standing atop a chair in front of the stove, every little movement seemed more automatic than intentional, as he flipped up the corner of an egg to see if the white had set, amazed that he could make any determination at all when he was so zoned out.

When Chris entered the room with a cheerful squawk, one might think that would startle him, but the dog was pretty sure he was incapable of being surprised anymore. Of course someone was bound to come in at some point and say something in an unpleasant way. That described at least three out of four of his family members.

"Hi, Brian! Check out the new clothes Mom got me for my first day of high school!"

The dog turned around, eyebrow rising.

First day of… Oh shit! That's right! How could I forget?

Ok. First day of school, high school for Chris. This needs to be a good morning, can't send him off in a bad mood. This is a big day for the guy.

Brian smiled, trying to match Chris's own enthusiasm as he also tried to make it look like he was admiring the white collared shirt and khakis the teen was wearing.

"He-ey! Lookin' sharp there, Chris! Lois picked those out, you say?"

Maybe he could still be surprised. Lois hadn't mentioned going shopping for clothes for Chris. Maybe that shouldn't be surprising, but surely, that was something worth mentioning to the man of the house. He shook his head.

Stop making this about you! This is Chris's big day!

"Yeah! She said now that I'm in high school and getting older, maybe sometimes I shouldn't show up to school looking like a slob!" Chris announced cheerfully.

Brian gestured to a kitchen chair. "Well, take a seat. Breakfast should be up in a minute."

He turned back to the food, wondering how he could go about making today special for the kids. After considering this question briefly, all he could come up with was…

"Here ya go, Chris!" Brian sat the plate before his oldest stepson. Two fried egg eyes stared up at them, while bacon strips formed a crispy smile.

Chris looked at his breakfast, before asking apprehensively,

"C-can it see me? Is it alive?"

"What?" Brian sighed in disbelief. "No, Chris. No, no, no. You know it's not alive, it's- it's just your breakfast. C'mon, man. I just gave it a face, I didn't give it sentience."

"'Morning, guys," said Meg in kind of a grumbly voice as she entered the room. The legs of the chair scraped the floor as she pushed it back from the table to take a seat. Unlike Chris, she wasn't wearing a special, back-to-school outfit.

"Good morning, Meg," Brian offered. "Trusty, er, trusty ole pink shirt and hat for you, huh? No new school clothes?"

Meg smoothed her hands down the front of her usual pink T-shirt and informed Brian, "Oh, no. These are new." She pointed to her hat, as well.

The dog's jaw dropped a little as he cocked his head to the side. Why…

But it wasn't worth thinking about. He simply shook his head and went to put Meg's plate together.

"But what's so good about this morning, anyway?" Meg wanted to know, her voice plainly pessimistic. "We have to go back to rotten school today. Whoopee."

Lois strode into the kitchen with Stewie in her arms. "What's the problem?" She yawned, still waking up.

"Going back to that hell, that's the problem," her daughter clarified, after blinking in stunned surprise for a moment, undoubtedly over the fact that she was being encouraged to speak for once. "Why the hell should I be happy to be going back to that tortuous- "

"Meg, Meg, honey." Lois stopped her by holding up a hand. "My apologies. I thought there was an actual problem. Now, we don't need your bummed out attitude this morning. It's going to be a busy day, and there's no room in it for your teenage angst plot."

"That's right, today's all about my first day of high school!" Chris added, pumping his fist in the air. He wrapped his arm around his breakfast plate as if giving it a hug. "Me and Sheldon are going to have the best time! We're going to rule the school!"

His family gaped in stupefaction at Chris's absurdity knowing no bounds, but Brian decided to look on the bright side. For now. At least until Chris tried to take his eggs and bacon to school.

"Ha," he laughed awkwardly. "That's- that's kinda clever, Chris. Did you name him that because eggs have shells?"

Chris stared blankly. "Huh?"

"Just forget it, just forget it," Stewie advised in an undertone to Brian. The baby was now stationed in his high chair. "Cut your losses with that one and run."

Brian was a little frustrated that it seemed he could do nothing right at times, but he still just sighed under his breath as he nodded at the boy, accepting his advice. After that little moment, the dog quickly set out plates for the rest of his family before fixing his own and having a seat at the head of the table between his wife and youngest stepson. Before he could even take his first bite, however, Lois was addressing him.

"So, the high school and preschool are on opposite ends of town."

The dog turned his head questioningly.

"Uh, ok."

There was a very brief moment of silence between the two as Lois seemed to be waiting for him to come to a conclusion. She didn't wait long.

"I don't have time to drive Stewie where he needs to be AND get Chris and Meg to school on time, and the preschool is closer to your workplace, anyway."

Brian knew what she was getting at now.

"Oh! Yeah. I can take Stewie to preschool. That's no problem, honey."

He heard the sound of someone coughing and turned to see Stewie apparently choking.

"Stewie!"

He patted the infant on the back to help him. The baby seemed to flinch away from his touch, though Brian was pretty sure that was just due to the movement made as the tyke finally swallowed and breathed in deeply.

"I'm ok! I'm good! Stop gawking at me!"

The kid shouted at everyone sitting around the table who had all stopped to make sure the baby of the house was ok.

"Stewie!" exclaimed Lois, automatically lifting a hand to her mouth in concern.

Stewie still wheezed a little when he spoke, but all the same, very clearly bumbled. "Hmph. Real good on the delayed reaction there, bitch."

"Oh, my god. Brian, is he okay? Did you cut up the pieces small enough?" she asked accusingly, reaching across the dog's spot and stretching out a hand for Stewie's plate.

Brian was actually annoyed enough to nudge her arm back over to her side, albeit gently. "He's fine, Lois, it's all fine. I'm checking on it." He leaned over to Stewie, while his mind raced. His heart seemed to beat a bit faster, too. He actually did have the same thought that his wife had, that maybe it was his fault Stewie had choked, and he was already feeling guilty as he examined the child's breakfast plate.

Was it his imagination, or did the child lean slightly back in his seat, away from him, as Brian moved over to look at the food?

In any case, the bits of bacon and eggs seemed to be the right size. In that case, Brian could breathe a sigh of relief and stop self-flagellating, but the dog still didn't know what to attribute the choking fit to.

His mind was taken off of it as everyone gradually finished their meals and left the table. (Chris while demanding many reassurances that it was "really okay" that he'd eaten his, and wanting to know "really bad, you gotta tell me" that he hadn't committed cannibalism.)

Brian piled the dishes in the sink while Stewie, the last one left behind, finished up his food without incident.

Once the infant was done, Brian clapped his paws together and addressed him.

"Alright! I guess I'm your ride again this morning. We can get going right now… Uh, well, just let me run upstairs and get my hat and briefcase. You want any help out of that high chair?"

In response, Stewie climbed down from the chair unaided and stood beside it, blinking up at Brian.

"I'll take that as a 'no', then," said the dog.

The two stared at each other...awkwardly. It wasn't until Stewie rolled his eyes and walked out of the room that Brian finally remembered what he was about to do. He hurried upstairs and grabbed his things before returning to meet Stewie by the door.

"Alright, then, let's head out."

"And, I mean, sometimes it just seems like none of the moves I make are the right ones, you know? Like, I know I'm keeping the family afloat, but there's always some kind of catch, something to make the things I do only half right if they're right at all. It's...really hard to describe. I just wish it seemed like I was appreciated more. Does that make sense?"

The dog looked over at the infant sitting next to him, looking for some kind of validation. He hadn't intended to go off on a rant as he drove Stewie to preschool, but he found that, as he tried to strike up some kind of conversation with the unusually reserved baby, it was remarkably easy to use the time to air out some of his grievances. Only some, though.

He would never tell Stewie about everything that was going on with Lois. That was the line. And as long as he never crossed it, it was perfectly okay to vent to the boy, wasn't it? In the spirit of open and honest communication between...father and...son.

Brian's inner thoughts came to a halt as he wondered why he was questioning their labels all of a sudden. Well, of course at the beginning, the thought of being anyone's stepfather, especially Stewie's, had seemed pretty unusual. But just now, he'd- perplexingly- hesitated like never before in using those terms in his own thoughts. Why had they sounded...a little wrong?

He realized that he'd been staring in Stewie's direction for a little too long, though not actually at the baby. Better look back at the road. At least he'd evidently made Stewiethink he was looking at him, however, and that pulled the longest string of words out of the baby that he'd uttered all morning.

"What?" Stewie sort of hiccuped the response, as if caught off guard. "Oh! Ummm… Um, um, um… Yeah! Totally! Apprec- appreciation. That's...that's important. B-but, I wouldn't worry too much about it, man." Stewie laughed, seemingly nervously. "You're- you're great."

"Uh, thanks?" Maybe it was a mistake to be opening up to Stewie like this. The boy plainly didn't know what to say to him. Actually, there was some evidence to suggest that the boy had forgotten how to talk at all. Why was he getting so tongue-tied?

"Why are you getting so tongue-tied?"

"What?" That sharp little yelping noise again. "T-tongue-tied? What do you mean? You...you crazy. You're just...one...craaazy...dog." Another giggle that sounded anything but relaxed.

The canine glanced over at the baby, who was tapping his fingers rapidly against his knees. Brian kept looking at him until Stewie noticed again, and their eyes met. Stewie's mouth fell open a bit, his eyes gone round. Then, in a split second, the child's expression changed into a scowl.

"Stare much?" Stewie folded his arms across his chest. "It's really not polite, you know. Now please. Go back to boring me to death with your problems."

Brian flinched a little, hoping the baby didn't notice. He faced forward again, wondering why Stewie was acting like this. Of course, he should know Stewie enough to know that he could expect anything from him, including, occasionally, the most blatantly disrespectful and hurtful words. But if his mind knew this, it didn't stop his heart from feeling a bit pained at being almost rebuffed by the boy's sarcastic encouragement.

It also didn't make complete sense to the dog's mind, though, either. Stewie's bad mood this morning seemed to have come out of nowhere. They'd been getting along fine as recently as last night, when Brian had put the boy to bed. That was, however, after a day in which the tyke had acted sort of strange, and even though Stewie had turned down Brian's offer to be a confidante, the canine decided to offer again.

"Well...we could talk about whatever you're dealing with, but you won't tell me." He tried to speak gently, but was he imagining it, or was there an undertone of accusation in what he'd just said?

All he knew was that when he looked back at Stewie, the tyke's mouth formed a thin, tight line that looked like it wouldn't open under penalty of death.

After a beat, however, he heard the child sigh.

"Because it's my problem. Nobody else's. And it's not, like, an after school special secret that I'm keeping. I'm not even up to anything dangerous this time, so I see no need to involve you."

The baby looked...vulnerable. He looked almost... Brian quickly squinted over at him. Was it...grieved? He looked kind of sad, but also like he was getting used to it. The dog frowned. Like he knew there was no use in dwelling on this thing, whatever it was...but still couldn't help doing that very thing, anyway. The type of loss that should have been on his face at his dad's funeral? Maybe, but it was hard to judge Stewie anymore. Of course he'd found it hard to relate to Peter. And right now, Brian's predominant thought was that look of remorse and resignation on Stewie's face belonged only on someone much older.

"Stewie…" Brian began, but didn't continue. He didn't have to. As soon as he started to respond, the baby turned towards him and told him all in a rush, as though anxious to stave off any concerns the canine might have to voice,

"Look. I'll tell you. I will." The boy seemed to flinch. "I'll tell you, Brian. Just...in my own time." And then Stewie looked away, out the window.

"You may as well carry on with what you wanted to discuss before," said the infant, still faced away from him. "About not feeling appreciated or whatever. I mean, if you want to. I'll gladly let you unload, Brian."
"Well...that's getting to be a non-issue," Brian muttered, while stroking his chin in tired thought, bringing his vehicle to a stop behind another, where several cars had formed a line-up to turn the corner at the end of the block. The dog knew what he'd see as soon as the Prius rounded that corner. "We're awfully close to your school now, Kid."

"Oh!" replied the baby, sounding a little too surprised to hear this news, for someone who was staring out the window.

In short order, they pulled up in front of the preschool, creeping forward to take their turn in the drop-off line. Stewie, evidently determined to act strangely up until the very end, was fidgeting and appeared to be studying his shoes. Just as the car shifted to the front of the line, though, and Brian leaned over with the intention to reach for the buckle on Stewie's car seat, the child looked at him and said in a fiercely insistent kind of voice,

"Have a good day, Brian." And then the dog was shocked when the baby abruptly ripped him by the forearms and continued like a trainer giving a boxer a pep talk, "When you get into work today, go in there and kick some ass! You hear me? Don't worry about what happens at home."

The tiny hands dropped from the canine's arms, and Stewie slouched forward, almost leaning into Brian, and gave a sigh that sounded too big for him.

"We all need some kind of an outlet, don't we? For when our personal lives aren't going right."

It was a distinctly odd thing to say, but Brian assumed Stewie was just doing that thing he sometimes did, affecting the behavior of a much older person, who had life experiences far beyond what Stewie himself had ever had, for the purposes of sounding cooler or more dramatic or just relating to actual adults better. In any case, the kid was already out of the car. Brian blinked, and it was like the baby teleported to the curb.

"Goodbye, Brian!" Stewie offered with a wave. "I'll see you later. Remember- nothing to worry about from ole Stu! All will come right! I apologize for acting so queerly!"

Something hung in the air- a joke Brian would've made at Stewie's expense a very long time ago- and then one of the ever-patient families behind the dog honked, and Brian pulled out without uttering a word, and at the same time that Stewie seemed to realize he'd left himself open to a shot that the dog hadn't taken.

"Are you feeling lucky? Come on down, all you lads and lassies!"

For the sake of keeping his lousy job- which was the only reason he was out here in the first place- Brian tried to inject his voice with at least some energy, so he wasn't using the dull tone that matched his spirits. However, he had a feeling that he still sounded obviously unenthusiastic, despite his best efforts. Also, that his Irish accent was pretty obviously bad.

The dog was standing out on the sidewalk in front of the Hummer Dealership, holding a sign that read 'Save Some Green!' while decked out head to toe in that color- all but for the red beard that was part of the humiliating getup. Every passing car seemed to contain people smirking unpleasantly at him. When someone had their window rolled down, or passed by on foot, he was supposed to say "Irish-themed" things at them to hype the business.

Most of these things came straight from the ad campaign that Brian was- ironically- the luckless star of.

"I'm Lucky the Leprechaun!" the dog, choking down the bile in his soul, announced to a man on his cell phone walking by. The man shot him an annoyed look, and shockingly, was unmoved by the pronouncement of the poor bastard in a leprechaun suit. He kept walking, and Brian sighed deeply.

"Our financing deals are like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow!" the canine yelled halfheartedly after the man.

"Yeah, you'd know about rainbows, ya fruit!" laughed a barrel-chested man in a too-tight wife beater, who was an actual customer, standing behind him in the dealership parking lot, and talking to a different salesman. Like so often at this job, Brian wanted to retort but couldn't.

What he could do, however, was speak with Paddy, who was also standing close by.

He walked up to his boss and lowered his voice to a half-whisper.

"You see, Paddy, this isn't even working! Nobody's impressed by Lucky the Leprechaun!" Afraid to criticize his employer too much, however, he added, "I think our deals and...tough...kick-ass SUV's speak for themselves. People will come, anyway! They don't need cheap gimmicks, do they?" He chuckled hopefully.

"Ahhh, c'mon, Brian, whatcha tryna pull here?" Paddy asked irritably, brushing him off. "The problem's not with Lucky. You know who it's with? It's with you."

"But I am Lucky!" the dog interrupted, forcing a jokey tone and doing a little bit of a terrible, uncoordinated jig. "And I shouldn't be! I'm not the right guy for the part. See- "

"Cut the crap, Brian," Paddy injected, scowling as usual. "And work on that jig. And that accent. They're both god awful. As I was saying, you're always trying to coast by, putting in the minimal amount of effort, and that's why you get minimal results. Why I get minimal results. If Lucky's not selling, it's because you're not selling him. Which means we're not selling Hummers. Now, you barely ever sell Hummers, anyway, even though you've had plenty of practice by now. So I'm going to give you today to practice being Lucky the Leprechaun. See if that turns out any better. Sound good?" The ugly way in which he smiled at Brian made it clear that he couldn't give a shit less how that plan sounded to the dog.

As soon as the son of a bitch turned and headed to a different part of the lot, Brian tore off his leprechaun hat and stomped on it, not caring who was looking. A short-sighted plan, though. He really had no other choice but to return to the curb, like a piece of garbage, now wearing a crumpled hat.

And the reason he had no other choice but to take this abuse was because he had a family now. Four other people were depending on him to keep a roof over their heads, food on the table, and clothing on their backs. He was the head of a family. Hadn't that once been a dream of his?

He'd heard that reality often didn't live up to the dreams that had preceded it, but it was just that his home life had so far turned out to be... especially un-dreamlike. Just as he'd told Sean, and alluded to with Stewie. But none of that mattered. What mattered was that his very-real family required him to work his all-too-real-but-simultaneously-nightmarish job. That mattered more than any dream. And, in time, maybe things would...get closer to those dreams of old.

And if they didn't...

That was pessimistic thinking. Surely things would improve. But then, Brian had never been too skilled at remaining optimistic for long periods of time. That he still believed that things would get better with his home life was a testament to how much he wanted it. ...And to how unthinkable the alternative was.

He and Lois had taken their vows. It didn't matter that she didn't exactly behave like his wife. If anything, their marriage sometimes made Lois feel further away than ever. Brian shuffled his feet sadly, looking down as he weakly twirled his sign around. Even if legally, they were bound together in a very intimate way, they'd definitely been closer friends when Peter was alive.

What if she never came around? It was almost too desolate a thought for Brian to contemplate. Would either of them ever leave the other? Right now, she was still dependent on him. The whole family was. Brian would have felt an obligation to care for them all to the best of his ability, marriage or no marriage, but since he was in one with Lois, he couldn't help feeling like he was getting the short end of a stick being held by some cruel and malicious force that would never let him win this game of tug-of-war. A game that could go on forever, leaving Brian feeling...trapped.

"Yo! Brian!" A car horn sounded loudly and repetitively, and the canine, looking up, saw a dark-colored convertible cruising by slowly. "Makin' that green! ABCD!"

It was none other than Sean, leaning out his car so far he looked to be in danger of falling out. He seemed ecstatic to see Brian. Which was just probably further proof of how little he had going on in his life at the moment.

Brian cleared his throat, his voice having gone hoarse after not using it for the past fifteen minutes or so. Or maybe that combined with all the yelling at vehicles beforehand.

"Hey, Sean! ABCD?"

"Always be closing, dog!" Sean declared proudly, clapping his hands together in delight at his own cleverness. "How's it going, bro?"

"Um...fine!" Brian shouted back. "Um...hey, you- you might wanna put your hands back on the wheel, there!"

His former co-worker took his advice just in time to avoid swerving into a hydrant. Sean then pulled over and parked the car. Brian watched as the man started walking over.

"You here to ask for your old job back?" the dog asked in confusion, surprised that Sean would bother actually getting out of the car.

"Heeehhhlll to the no!" Sean laughed, coming striding over and stopping at Brian's side.

Unbeknownst to Brian, Paddy had at some point reappeared, and his voice came from behind them, sneering,

"Pfft! Like I'd ever give that traitor a second chance! Especially now that he's driving that Barbie dream car, there. Why don't you get some man wheels, Sean?"

"Go suck a fat one, Paddy!" Sean shouted back carelessly.

"Is that any way to talk to your uncle?" Paddy fumed.

"Go suck a fat one, Uncle Paddy!"

"Okay," said Paddy looking rather like a little teapot about to erupt with steam, "let me put it this way: is that any way to talk to the man who has your wife's new phone number? That's what you came here for, isn't it?"

Brian looked to Sean in confusion. Sean looked to be experiencing a mix of emotions, all of which were pretty uncharacteristic, at least from what Brian had ever seen him exhibit. Sean appeared to be nervous, eager, and slightly abashed all at once.

"How does he have your wife's number?" he whispered to the man.

Sean rolled his eyes and whispered back, "His neighbor apparently does yoga with her. He's very close to his neighbor. I think they do macrame together or something."

"It is not macrame!" Paddy squawked. "It's golf! She plays at my course!"

"You have a golf course?" Brian asked his boss, brows rising high.

"Paddy Tanniger, titan of industry!" announced Sean, with a subtle sarcasm that his uncle either didn't catch or chose to ignore. "Hey, uncs, why you got Brian," he jabbed a thumb in the dog's direction, "dressed like some kind of dog-prechaun? Why don't you put on this child's Halloween costume yourself? You're short enough for it, too, after all, and I think you'd do a better job than him at acting like a manic little man desperate for gold."

As irritable as Paddy was on a good day, seemingly nobody could grind his gears more effectively than his own nephew, Sean. He became a stuttering mess for many, many seconds, before finally snapping at Brian,

"Brian! You go inside the dealership and see if anything needs attending to in there! Lucky needs to mix and mingle, not just hold a lousy sign. Leave me alone with my punk nephew to see what kind of blackmail I can use on him." The little man stuck a hand into his pocket and pulled out a little slip of paper. "For this ." He waved the scrap of paper under Sean's nose, snatching it back just when he made a grab for it.

The dog was tired of watching these awkward family dramatics, anyway, and turned to make his way back into the dealership.

On the way, he passed many a bunch of green and gold balloons tied to posts and car antennas. Their latest sale did have the dealership fairly busy that day, so, unfortunately, Brian planned on encountering some customers inside he'd have to engage.

As soon as he walked into the dealership, he was confronted with his own face plastered all over the place, practically from floor to ceiling. He groaned aloud.

Well, he thought sardonically, I may not be getting much recognition at home, but I'm the star of the show at work.

Brian clocked out and ran out the door. He should have left thirty minutes ago, but he ended up getting stuck helping out a last second customer, a last second customer who had done nothing but waste his time since they didn't end up deciding on a purchase, anyway. He growled as he got into his car and slammed the door shut before starting the engine. Now, he was going to be late picking up Stewie...again. He hadn't had time to call and inform Lois so she could go ahead and get the kid. It's not like she was busy, after all… So, there was no point now since he'd wind up getting there before her, if she left right now. The dealership was much closer than the house.

The angry dog reached up to adjust his rearview mirror but stopped when he caught his reflection.

Christ…

He hadn't even had time to change out of his ridiculous mascot costume. He shook his head and proceeded to pull out of the parking lot and onto the street. The not so lucky canine spent the entire drive to the preschool fuming. Things seemed to be going especially wrong today, and he was about at his wits end. His mind was abuzz with thoughts and concerns that he wished he could ignore. All that really mattered, at the moment, was getting Stewie and him back home. The little guy must be bored out of his mind, by now.

Boy, is he going to let me have it.

When he pulled up to the school, he saw Stewie standing out on the sidewalk next to a woman who must have been his teacher. The passenger door opened, and the pair gave him almost matching odd looks. Rarely had Brian ever felt so silly, but he did his best to play it off. He smiled and addressed the woman.

"Sorry for the late pick up. Got caught up at work."

The dog shrugged and forced a laugh.

"What are ya gonna do? Am I right?"

Stewie climbed up into his seat as the woman just continued to stare before responding.

"Uh, huh… Look, Mr. Griffin, this can't keep happening. Stewie needs to be picked up on time. If you're this late again, we're going to have to bring you and your wife in for a talk."

The dog could feel his blood beginning to boil. He gripped his steering wheel tighter as he tried to contain the anger swelling inside him. The last thing he needed to do was snap at this woman. Oh, wouldn't that just be the cherry on top of this crap sundae of a day… Eventually, he just sighed and nodded his head.

"Understood. Won't happen again."

The woman shot him one last stern look before looking down at Stewie and smiling.

"Alright. See you tomorrow, Stewie. Don't let stepdaddy get in too much trouble."

And with that, she shut the door and walked away from the vehicle back into the building.

There was silence in the car as Brian just sat there trying to keep his emotions in check. It was soon broken when Stewie spoke up.

"So, uh, someone steal your Lucky Charms? That what kept you?"

That remark was the last straw. Brian growled through his teeth and chucked his hat into the backseat before doing the same thing with the fake beard.

"Oh, ha ha! Very funny! You're sooooo clever! Got any more witticisms for the foolish looking leprechaun?!"

The child's eyes went wide and he flinched away. He actually looked a little frightened. It was such a foreign expression on the boy's face that it quickly snapped the dog out of his rage. He faced back towards the front, hung his head, and sighed. He couldn't help but feeling a little ashamed that he had snapped so violently at Stewie. He wasn't sure what to say next, but it was Stewie that spoke first, anyway.

"I-I'm sorry. It was just a joke. That's like… That's like our thing. Don't be mad…"

Brian turned to look at the child who still looked far too timid for his liking.

"No. It's ok. I'm the one who should be sorry, and I am. I shouldn't take out my frustrations with today on you."

He sat back up and composed himself.

"I'm not mad...at you."

He reached over and buckled Stewie in before finally driving away from the school. After a ways down the road, Stewie spoke up again.

"What are you… What are you mad at, then?"

Brian wasn't sure how to respond or even if he should respond at all. Was it healthy for him to discuss his problems with Stewie this much, especially now that he was his...step...son? The dog shivered a bit at the thought. It still just didn't sound right…

"I'm mad at...a lot of things, kid."

And, he was going to leave it at that. That had been his honest intention, but before he could even realize what he was doing, he continued.

"You already know what was bugging me about this morning. Well, compound that frustration with being forced to humiliate yourself at work by dressing up in a stupid ass costume. Oh, and how about while you're at it, throw on some general constant concern about the state of your...relationships. Add all that together and you might have an inkling of an idea of what I'm mad at."

He glanced over at Stewie to find the boy staring at him, eyes blinking slowly.

"W-Wow...sounds like you're going through a lot…"

It wasn't much but it was still something, and Brian found himself simply appreciating someone acknowledging the struggle he was going through. A small grin formed on his lips.

"Thanks, Stewie."

Things grew quiet again as they drew ever closer to their home. It wasn't until they were in their quaint little suburban neighborhood that Brian heard Stewie speak up again.

"Why work at a place where you feel like you're being mistreated?"

The question took the dog off guard. The answer to him was obvious, of course, but he wasn't sure how to go about explaining it to Stewie.

"Uh, that's just what you have to do when you have other people depending on you. I can't afford to quit or anything. Our family depends on that income to stay afloat. I do it for you guys. That's how much I care."

Silence for a beat and then a response.

"That just seems silly. I mean, you're obviously miserable there. Anyone can see that if they take the time to pay attention. You found that job. You can find another. You don't...deserve to be mistreated like you are."

The dog listened to the baby's words, wanting to take them to heart, but Stewie was just a baby. Life just wasn't that simple. He sighed.

"I wish it were that easy, kid. I really do."

Their house came into view. Brian pulled into the driveway and parked the car. He sat there for a minute, looking at his reflection in the rearview mirror before shaking his head.

"I can't go in like this. Give me a second."

His canine digits worked the buttons on his leprechaun jacket, while Stewie sat in his carseat, looking at Brian, looking perhaps confused or impatient. The dog sighed and finished taking off the jacket, discarding it in the backseat.

"I'll get you out of there in a minute and we can go into the house. Just wait."

Stewie met his eyes and blinked at him.

"Wha- ? Oh, I didn't... I didn't say anything, m-man," he laughed. "I'm in no hurry." The baby fumbled with the buckle on his carseat. "And I don't need your help. See?" After working the mechanism for a moment, it came unclasped, and Stewie looked up proudly. "If I really were that impatient to return to that house full of idiots, I could do it right now."

Brian removed his leprechaun bowtie and flung it away with what bits of the costume he'd already taken off. "Well, don't go just yet, if you wouldn't mind." The dog grunted, trying to reach behind his back once he realized his leprechaun shirt and pants velcroed in the back, and he couldn't find the right angle to undo them. "Can you…" He growled in frustration. "Can you help me finish getting this ridiculous thing off?"

Stewie seemed to have gone back into that trance-like state he'd been entering periodically since his undisclosed problem became an issue. For several moments, the dog wasn't even sure the child had heard him; Stewie looked like he was spacing out, although he was looking right at Brian. Then the baby shook his head, cleared his throat, and shrugged.

"S-sure!" he replied, with a little hiccuping sound. "No...no big deal." He chuckled and hopped out of his carseat, moving over to sit on the edge of the actual seat underneath it. Brian turned his back to the boy and gestured to the velcro closures.

He heard the familiar ripping sound of two velcro strips separating, along with a sound that came from Stewie, like he was swallowing with some difficulty.

"Are you thirsty?" asked Brian.

"What?" Small hands lightly touched the fur on Brian's back as the dog peeled the shirt part of the costume from his shoulders.

"You kinda gulped, there. It sounded like maybe you were thirsty or you have a sore throat or something, I dunno."

"Oh!" Gee, Stewie sure did sound startled a lot lately. "Well, it...isn't always easy to...swallow."

Brian's brows knitted together. Was Stewie making a joke? Surely not. A kid his age, even an extremely intelligent one, wouldn't know about such things. It was probably just another awkward instance of Stewie saying something that he didn't realize could have...other connotations. The dog rolled his eyes, and started to speak before he clamped his mouth shut, stopping himself just in time from blurting out, "Now hurry up and get my pants off." Talk about a questionable choice of words. But Stewie was just sitting there, not making a move to continue helping Brian out of his absurd getup.

Okay, not just sitting there. He was softly running his hand up and down the canine's back, which actually felt pretty good. It had been too long since Brian had had a nice pet. But now didn't seem like the time or the place.

"Uh, Stewie…" he prompted, and he felt the boy jump. There was that skittish behavior again. Stewie apparently just kept retreating into his own world.

"Right! Sorry, sorry…" That being said, there was a moment where nothing happened. And then, Stewie laughed.

"It even has room for your tail!" The child flicked at Brian's tail where it emerged through the slot in the back of the pants. "Oh, that is...that is…" he hesitated, then finally finished with, "...something," and giggled some more.

Brian huffed. "Yeah, it didn't come with one. Paddy just thought I was going to stuff my tail in those pants and keep it confined all day, the jerk. So, I had to take matters into my own hands."

"And cut a hole in the back of your pants!" said Stewie, with a smirk in his voice.

Brian pinched his eyes shut and sighed. This day just might be at the top of the leaderboard for things said that sounded unintentionally like innuendo. He'd just have to ignore it. It was too uncomfortable to point out to his...stepson. The dog winced.

"Exactly," he said quickly, "Now, if you're through prolonging my misery…"

He felt Stewie's hands at his waist and moving down over his backside as the velcro was undone. Brian breathed a sigh of relief, and weirdly, it sounded like Stewie did, too. The baby must have been trying to act sympathetic after teasing the dog about the tail hole.

Brian stripped off the pants and threw them in the backseat, too. "Thanks, Stewie," he said, and turned toward where the child had been sitting. Only to find a passenger door swinging shut. The dog looked out the windshield and saw his youngest stepchild scuttling toward the front door of the house.

Once inside the house, Brian was met with a scene of complete chaos.

"Chris! Calm down! It's just a prank! A silly little James Woods High tradition, that's all!" Lois was exclaiming, clearly perturbed, but also frustrated, while her son sat on the couch in his new school clothes, the luster of the first day of school obviously having worn off, his hair disheveled, his eyes fixed in a thousand yard stare, and hugging his backpack close to him, rocking back and forth as if traumatized.

"You weren't there!" Chris shrieked.

"Chris, we've all been there!" Lois countered. "You made it through, didn't you? It's not a big deal! All freshmen go through it. Right? Tell him, Meg." She appealed to her daughter, who was sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

"They told me that on my first day of freshman year, I'd get pelted with water balloons," answered Meg in a monotone voice. "Instead, I got pelted with watermelons. They had set up these giant slingshots and everything. But it wasn't that bad. One hit my spine and drastically improved my posture. It was better than most days I spend at home. Or at school. But anyway, here's what happened to me today. Mom, I don't really know how to tell you this, but-"

"Cool story, Meg, thanks for helping out" Lois interrupted in a dismissive tone. "So you see, Chris, you're blowing this out of proportion. Tomorrow will be different-"

"Why?! Why didn't anybody warn me?!" Chris was hysterical. He was also now looking at Brian, who hadn't moved from just inside the door. "BRIAN, I'VE BEEN ASSAULTED!"

The dog, stunned by Chris's dramatic declaration, stared blankly. "Uhhh…" Say something reassuring, say something reassuring, Chris is waiting, look at him looking at you, so simple and trusting, just waiting for his stepfather to make it better… "That doesn't sound good," Brian finished awkwardly.

A large sigh came from the small figure standing next to the canine. Brian had almost forgotten Stewie was there- which he felt extra guilty about after the child had had his say.

"Brian, you'll want to go get that costume out of the car and put it on," Stewie suggested in a lazy voice laced with snark. "You'll need something to pin your 'Father of the Year' medal onto. You're sure to win after that comforting observation. Although, maybe you could just fasten it directly onto your chest: surely it couldn't make your heart bleed more than it already is." The baby started to walk quickly away, doubtlessly to disappear upstairs.

"So I owe money to this guy…" Meg said into the brief silence that followed, but Brian cut her off to address his middle stepchild.

"Chris, what did you mean? Can you tell me a little more about what happened?" He approached the sofa and took a seat between the two teenagers.

"He's just being a little over-sensitive about a prank that got played on the incoming freshmen today," Lois said, answering for her son. She had crossed her arms over her chest and now she rolled her eyes. "He'll get over it. Maybe you should be the one to help him do that. Have a talk with him- you know, guy to guy? This seems like more stepfather-and-son territory, anyway." And without explaining how she figured that, Lois headed out of the room and into the kitchen.

"B-b-but," Brian stammered, staring after her. He squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of resentment bubbled up. It wasn't enough that he had to spend all day at work being humiliated, evidently; he then had to come home and do crisis control all on his own. The dog sighed and turned to Chris. "So this is about a prank at your school? What exactly happened?"

"Don't make me relive it!" Chris shouted, throwing his hands up and pulling at his hair, his backpack toppling to the floor. "It's too awful! So many things! They did so many things! I'll never be the same again! My body! My body!"
Oh, my god! Brian thought in a panic. He doesn't mean-

"Speaking of...bodies," Meg began, "It was my friend, you see, who said she'd do stuff for this guy's friends, and, well, you know how business deals fall through… I said I'd get him the rest of the money, but…"

"Meg, please!" Brian cried out, starting to put a protective arm around Chris, but hesitating and leaving it extended in midair. Maybe he doesn't want to be touched right now."Chris, Chris, h-hey, buddy…" The dog gulped, his heart pounding out of worry for his traumatized stepson. "I know this must be...so incredibly difficult for you, but I can't help you unless you give me some more information here. That's how we find justice. That's how we find h-healing."

Chris took a deep breath. He was shaking, the poor guy. "W-w-well," the teen began, staring down at his hands. "It all started as soon as I got to school today… I was so excited for my first day of high school. I was feeling pretty good about myself, and I don't ever feel good about myself! I had these new clothes, and I'm a high schooler now, so I walked in there with my head held high. Little did I know what was waiting for me!"

"Go on, Chris," Brian forced himself to say, and then waited in dread for the rest of Chris's story.

"This guy yelled, 'Hey, look, a freshman!' And I looked. I looked all around, but then I realized he must be talking about me ! Everyone was looking at me with these evil smiles! And they were getting closer and closer ! So I started walking faster and faster !"

Brian felt the already tense atmosphere grow more uncomfortable. He gripped the cushion of the couch and began shaking as well as Chris continued.

"Eventually, I was-I was running from them, and they were running after me! I ended up in the cafeteria, and it was full of people! I begged them to help me, but they all had that same look on their face! I was cornered!"

Brian's breathing quickened. He braced himself for what came next.

"I screamed, and this guy grabbed me! He threw me onto a table and began sp-spanking me! Then, Mayor West showed up-"

"WHAT!?"

It was around about that time it dawned on Brian that it was possible he'd misunderstood a thing or two about what had happened to Chris. He didn't want to accuse the victim, but none of the increasingly outrageous details of this shocking story were adding up. The more he thought about it, the less anything he'd heard actually made sense.

"Chris," Brian began, hesitant but determined to get to the bottom of this, "let's, uh...let's rewind for a second, here. Take me back to the beginning. When you say you were assaulted, you mean- "

"With paddles!" Chris interrupted, shrieking. "Everywhere I went in the school, people chased me with paddles! And then they caught me, and they beat my bottom raw! And I think someone was playing Alice Cooper!"

" Ohhh… " Brian muttered, and gave a tentative sigh of relief. What had Lois been talking about when he came in? She'd mentioned something that "we've all been through." This was starting to sound more like some kind of hazing ritual- not nice, certainly, but still better than what he'd been imagining previously. However, paddling could still be a prelude to... things , so Brian figured he'd better make absolutely certain.

"Is that the extent of it, then? They went after you with paddles and just smacked you on the backside a few times?"

Chris was not happy with this synopsis.

"Oh, is that all they did?! Is that what you're asking me? It was mean , Brian! And it hurt ! They weren't lightly tapping me on the ass with a feather duster like that guy did to that sexy French maid in that adult movie I definitely didn't watch last night! They were hitting me hard with wooden paddles ! I'm never going back!"

Brian frowned. "Well, Chris, it's your school, you can't just not go back. And besides, you can't run away from your problems." This seemed like a teachable moment, so Brian crossed his legs and settled back against the couch, ready to speak from personal experience. "You know, I once joined the Peace Corps because I was trying to do that very thing. It didn't work, even with 6,000 miles between me and the place where I thought I'd left my problems, and…" The dog stopped himself as the memories of being high as hell for most of that trip came back to him and he realized he probably shouldn't tell Chris about that part. He cleared his throat. "Well, like I was saying, they followed me. I was still thinking about them, and even if I hadn't been, they would've been waiting for me when I got home. And they were. You see what I'm saying here, Chris?"

Chris was nodding thoughtfully as he slowly stood up from the couch. "Yeah...I think I do. Thanks, Brian!" he exclaimed, and then abruptly ran out of the room, seemingly cheered up, easy as that.

"Huh," Brian muttered. "Kids' emotions. They turn on a dime." He crossed his arms comfortably behind his head and lay down on the couch, enjoying his success in imparting some words of wisdom to his awkward and impressionable teenage stepson. He sighed in satisfaction.

"Good job, Brian," the canine quietly congratulated himself around a yawn and then allowed himself the luxury of slipping into a nap after a hard day's work, both at the dealership and at this thing called parenting.

"Good job, Brian!"

Brian had never heard Lois sound so angry at him before.

His head whipped around as she practically startled the coffee right out of his mouth to spew across the kitchen table. She looked totally enraged, and was waving a piece of paper around.

"Your little talk with Chris yesterday after I left the room must have gone well! What did you say to him?!" She slapped the paper down next to his place at the table and stood next to his chair with her hands on her hips. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"I-I-I-" the dog stammered inarticulately, confused and a little terrified by her demeanor. "W-what happened? Something with Chris? Is he okay?" He seized the piece of paper and realized that it was a note, written in Chris's fairly sloppy handwriting, but the words were unmistakable.

"He did what?!"

Brian's jaw fell. He couldn't believe it. Chris had run off to join the Peace Corps. He turned his head to face his furious wife.

"Th-This… This isn't my fault!"

Lois rolled her eyes.

"Then where else did he get such a crazy idea? Hmmm? You said last night that you told him about your time in the Peace Corps. You didn't tell me that you insinuated he should run away!"

The dog just stared blankly before finally stammering out a response.

"I-I-I told him not to! I said that wouldn't solve anything!"

"You should know you have to be blunt to get anything through to that dunce."

Brian snapped out of his stupor and looked over at the infant sitting next to him, who he had momentarily forgotten about in the wake of the current crisis. The child scoffed, a smirk plastered on his face as he took obvious enjoyment in the latest event in the seemingly never-ending string of lunacy that was the Griffin family saga. Brian would have said something in retort if it were not for the fuming woman still standing over him. He met her gaze once more, wincing at her look of pure disdain. It hurt.

"Look. I'm sure Chris is fine. He's probably already thought better of the idea. I bet, any minute now, he'll come walking through that door saying he changed his mind."

Lois didn't look convinced. He gulped.

"J-Just wait and see."

The woman locked her eyes to his for a few more tense seconds before responding sternly.

"For your sake, he better."

And it was left at that. Without another word, the enraged matriarch of the Griffin family turned and stormed out of the kitchen.

Brian held his head in his hands, tightly gripping his fur and about ready to start tearing it out. "God, what a mess!" he groaned. "I can't believe this!"

"What on earth happened?" Stewie's voice lifted Brian out of his indulging in feeling overwhelmed. The canine lifted his head so he could look at the child to his side. Stewie's eyebrow quirked quizzically. "I mean, did you really convince him to leave. I say, Stepdoggy, that sounds more like me than you. Well, one down, two to go."

Brian momentarily forgot about the crisis at hand, trying to make sense of what the child just said.

Two to go? Meg and Lois? Why would…?

The dog shook his head. It was just the regular nonsense from Stewie. It didn't mean anything. The boy was just teasing him. Nevertheless, Brian responded to the question.

"Of course, I didn't do that! Why would I try and get rid of Chris or anyone else for that matter?"

The child's smirk fell as he seemed at a loss for words. Unusual. Of course that didn't last long. Stewie shrugged.

"You have to admit we'd have a lot less to worry about if everyone else just, I don't know, didn't hang around here...anymore."

Once again, Brian was struck dumb with confusion. He chuckled, completely at a loss.

"I have no idea what you are even getting at, kid."

Stewie shrugged again.

"Just forget it. I was just trying to lighten the mood. All this angst is bad for your health."

Brian went to retort, but Stewie had apparently grown bored with their conversation. The child had returned his attention to his breakfast of eggs and toast that he had been in the process of eating before Lois had marched into the room. Brian sighed, deciding it was best to follow suit and just let the matter drop, for the moment. He took another sip of his coffee, picked up his toast, and took a bite, trying in vain of believe the very words of encouragement he had just given to his wife.

"Shit! Shit shit shit shit!"

Brian was pacing frantically back and forth in the living room. It was now getting to be eight at night. Brian had been home from another tough day at the office- made all the more difficult because he'd barely been able to concentrate throughout it- for a couple of hours. Dinner had been done with for about an hour now. And while Lois was upstairs in the bath, and Meg and Stewie were likewise upstairs doing their own things, Chris still wasn't back yet!

"Shit!"

The dog threw himself onto the couch and screamed into a pillow. Lois had been giving him nasty looks all day. If Chris didn't come back before she got out of the bath, he just knew she was going to go ballistic on him, and he did not want to deal with that. He couldn't. Things were already hard enough. Not mention he was now actually quite concerned about Chris. Who knew where he actually ended up?

"Do you mind!" a petulant voice close by demanded.

Brian reluctantly pried his face away from the pillow and he peered up to see a pair of feet clad in an infant sleeper. He sat up and frowned at Stewie, who was standing on the arm of the sofa,hands on his hips and no doubt trying to look as imperious as possible.

""Perhaps you might try keeping the dramatics to a minimum?" the child suggested. "Your pseudo-parental freak-out is keeping me from getting my beauty sleep."

The dog barked out a harsh laugh. "You're one to talk. You want a perfect example of being overly dramatic? How about you claiming I'm keeping you up when I've barely been making any noise."

Of course, Stewie wouldn't admit to acting ridiculous and merely shrugged, lightly offering up, "You don't pace as quietly as you think you do," by way of explanation. He lowered himself to a seated position on the sofa arm and casually crossed one leg over the other.

Brian shook his head in frustration. "Please just go to bed, Stewie. Don't use me as an excuse to stay up. You're not helping matters."

There was a long beat of silence during which Stewie seemed to be mulling a retort. The canine was about to ask Stewie again to go back to bed, when the boy told him, almost sulkily, "You don't let me help."

The dog was perplexed. Since when did Stewie have a genuine desire to help him in his hour of need? But he didn't have time to dwell on any odd apparent shifts in the genius baby's personality. Right now, all he saw was another wayward child.

"You could help," he recommended, "by being the kid who actually listens to me."

"Now, now, Dog." Stewie narrowed his eyes at Brian. "You didn't get into this whole mess because Chris didn't listen to you."

Brian narrowed his eyes back, but before he could say anything, Stewie went on.

"But in this case, I'll choose to believe that by 'listen', you mean 'listen to the subtleties."

The canine stared at the child askance.

"Chris evidently ignored the finer points of your story and only heard that you went to the Peace Corps," said Stewie. "Obviously my buffoonish brother shouldn't have done that. So I'm going to ignore you bluntly- and quite rudely, I might add- asking me to go away, and instead choose to hear the other message you're conveying." The baby's expression softened, if only slightly. "That you want someone to stay and support you through this."

"Look, Stewie, I appreciate the thought. I do." Brian sighed and massaged his temples. He was telling the truth. He was appreciative...and sort of amazed. "But Lois is going to kill me. She's my wife, and we're supposed to be supporting each other through this, but I don't know if she'll ever even speak to me again if Chris doesn't come home soon. How can we work together to bring him home if she's too busy hating me?"

"You're more worried about Lois being mad at you then you are about your numbskull of a teenage stepson running around God knows where unsupervised without two cents worth of common sense to his name." Stewie's expression of goodwill had disappeared. He now wore just a trace of a smile, but it was a rather unkind one.

Brian started to say something, but the child cut him off, demanding, "It's true, isn't it?"

Without even knowing if he did feel ashamed, the canine suddenly felt very strongly that he should . He felt heat rise into his face, before he decided that he shouldn't be giving any ground on this. Some support Stewie was, coming down here just to criticize him! Was he just supposed that admit his infant stepchild knew more than him?

"Why should it matter? I'm genuinely worried about Chris. We're only in the middle of this predicament because I tried to help him. Which I wouldn't have done if I didn't care about him. I care about this whole family. But the only reason I'm anybody's stepfather is because of Lois. She's the one I'm married to. So yeah, maybe I am a little focused on her being worried sick…"

"And hating you," Stewie interrupted in a monotone. "Don't forget possibly hating you."

The water stopped running upstairs. The sudden absence of the sound of faucets filling the bath perked up the dog's ears immediately, and his back stiffened, his anxiety jumping up a few levels.

"Good luck, Brian," said Stewie, hopping down from the couch and dusting off his sleeper. "I'm sure she won't really kill you."

"You sound almost disappointed," Brian responded with a wry smile, weakly attempting a joke. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes shut.

Sitting there with his eyes closed, he heard Stewie reply, "Not at all. I'll even avenge you if she does decide to do away with you."

A small smile teased Brian's lips despite himself. He opened his eyes and looked at the tyke, who now stood on the bottom step, about to start making his way back upstairs. "She'll probably just banish me to the couch." Like the other twin bed wasn't far enough away…

"In that case…" Stewie seemed to think about it, and then batted his hand as he turned to climb to the next step. "You're always welcome in my room, I suppose," he finished, with the attitude of someone making a gesture of princely generosity.

The dog's smile grew larger, the offer sounding oddly...appealing.

"I'll, uh, I'll keep that in mind, Stewie."

Stewie said nothing more, simply taking a step and proceeding up the stairs to his bedroom. Once the child was gone, Brian felt himself becoming tense once more. He took a deep breath and resolved to finally head upstairs to his own bedroom. No sense in causing Lois any more grief by making here come down here to get him.

Alright, Brian. You got this.

The canine hopped off the couch and slowly made his way up the stairs. When he reached the door, his paw hesitated over the knob for only a brief second before turning it and opening the door. He stepped into the room and shut the door quietly. The door to the bathroom was still shut. Lois wasn't out yet. Brian walked over to his bed and had a seat, taking the moment to compose himself before Lois walked in. He didn't have to wait long. After only a few minutes, Lois emerged from the bathroom now wearing her nightgown. Normally, Brian would be admiring how beautiful she looked in this moment, but with everything else going on, that was now the furthest thing from his mind. The two made eye contact. Brian gulped. Lois crossed her arms.

"Chris isn't back. Is he."

Seeing no sense in trying to stall, Brian shook his head.

"No."

He sighed and directed his gaze downward, feeling quite intimidated by the woman's unblinking stare.

"No. He's not back."

He summoned what little courage he had and looked back up. His wife's expression had not changed. She just kept staring at him. The dog suppressed a whimper, feeling a pain in his chest developing in response to Lois's look of utter disapproval. Minutes must have passed before she finally broke eye contact.

...And that was it. Brian had expected the woman to yell at him, to scold him, to start throwing things around the room as she told him how terrible he was. That didn't happen, though. Instead, she simply walked over to her bed, shut off her lamp, and laid down as if to go to sleep.

The room was dark now, and Brian was still staring off into the distance right at the open bathroom door that now seemed to lead into an endless dark abyss. He wasn't sure how to process this. What did this mean? What was going through his wife's head? He turned around to begin asking the many questions buzzing around in his mind but stopped when he saw the woman's back turned toward him.

He wanted to speak, but it was obvious that Lois was shutting him out and maybe it was best to just handle this later. Maybe after she calmed down they could talk this out. It was wishful thinking, sure, but right now, that was really all he had. Wishful thinking.

The dog reached up to wipe some moisture from his eyes that had suddenly begun to spring up before moving to lie down as well. He slipped under the comforter and rolled onto his side, facing away from his wife. The whimper finally escaped him, and it was the last sound made in that room for the rest of the night.

"Y-yes, sir, I under- I understand," the dog stammered into the phone, watching Lois stare daggers at him across the breakfast table. It wasn't bad enough that it wasn't even 7:30 in the morning and he'd already gotten chewed out by his bigmouth pipsqueak of a boss, but he'd had the conversation in front of Lois, too. True, she'd only heard his side of it, but Brian had a feeling he'd failed at keeping his reactions neutral- surely he looked and sounded like somebody who was getting scolded. His life just felt like an exercise in futility lately- if not a downright joke.

Brian gulped and placed the phone back on the wall. Lois was now looking anywhere but at him. Steam rose up from her coffee cup, but it might as well have been coming out of her ears.

He didn't know if she was angry at him being too sick with worry to go into work that day, but he could bet she was angry at how weak he must seem as a husband

Whipping boy at work, and if one of his stepchildren has a problem, he sends them away rather than dealing with it,

The canine wished he could make her understand that he really hadn't made Chris run away.

Now Paddy...Paddy had definitely been angry about Brian missing work. His exact words were: "You're lucky we're shorthanded right now, or your ass would be grass, Brian. Poor sales numbers and being absent with that piss-poor excuse would be more than enough to get you fired under normal circumstances."

"So…" said Lois as Brian made his way over to the table and took a seat. "You're just going to hang around here all day?"

Brian winced at her withering tone of voice. "I...I want to be here for the family"

Lois sighed. She pushed aside the breakfast of eggs and hashbrowns the dog had prepared for her before she came downstairs. It was totally untouched.

"Well, Meg says she still wants to go to school, and I don't plan on staying here, either. I need to take my mind off things, so I think I'll see if Bonnie wants to go shopping."

"Oh." Brian blinked at her. "Well...okay. Whatever you need to do. I just…" He paused. He thought about it, although not that hard. And he summoned as much conviction as he could before he spoke next. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this, Lois. I'm going to use today to figure out how to bring Chris back home where he belongs."

Lois glanced away and shook her head slowly, but when she looked back at him again, Brian could tell she wanted to be optimistic. "I….I hope so, Brian." She sipped on her coffee. "You do remember about them painting at Stewie's preschool though, right? And how he won't be going there today?"

"I…" Had she said anything to him about that? Brian felt that sort of frantic energy that always rose up when Lois put him on the spot and he was afraid of disappointing her. He didn't want to admit that he'd forgotten anything- especially not anything that made him look like a bad parent- or wasn't listening to her when she'd told him something important.

He was saved from saying anything else right away when Meg came barreling through the door, clutching her bookbag and clearly in a rush.

"Morning, Mom. Morning, Brian. The bus is gonna be here any minute. What can I grab for breakfast?" She looked over at the pans on the stove top. "Awww, no bacon I can take on the go?"

"How about a yogurt?" Lois suggested. "Or a nice, healthy helping of imagination?"
"Oh, just forget it," Meg grumbled, looking at her watch. "I'm gonna miss the bus. Too bad I don't have a car to get around in. Goodbye, everybody. I hope you hear from Chris today." She ran out the side door, with Lois calling behind her, holding out the saucer that her coffee cup had been on,

"Wait, you forgot your bacon! Mmmm! And it's low fat, too!"

Unhappiness doesn't really bring out the best in Lois, does it? Brian thought to himself. His wife stood and took her cup over to the sink.

"I'm going to be heading out now. I'll probably stop in around lunch, so maybe you'll have found something out about Chris before then. See you, Brian."

She walked out through the living room, and soon after, the dog heard her get into the car and start it.

The dog let out an exasperated sigh before returning to his breakfast. He took a bite of egg and reached over to grab the newspaper he had retrieved earlier in the morning. He scanned through the pages, searching for anything of interest that could serve to take his mind off of his many troubles.

Pancake with the Image of Jesus Discovered at Flappy Jacks. Teenage Runaway Found Dead in Alligator Pit. Mayor West Finds Striped Shortbread in Package of Fudge Grahams, Declares War on Keebler Elves.

The canine shook his head as he finished his last bite of hashbrowns. Nothing really of note here. He set down the paper and carried his dish over to the sink. After tidying up the kitchen a bit, he thought about what he should do next.

Well, with Lois gone, there were plenty of chores to be done around the house. Maybe if he took care of some of the housework Lois might appreciate it., anything to get back on her good side. The dog smiled slightly. That idea actually made him feel slightly hopeful. But, that soon changed as he considered the tasks that needed to be completed. The dishes needed to be finished. There was laundry to be done. The bathrooms needed cleaning. Lois usually vacuumed on Wednesdays.

With every mind-numbing, tedious chore he listed in his head, Brian's motivation to actually do something productive lessened and lessened until it finally vanished completely at the terrifying consideration of actually operating the vacuum. He shuddered and groaned. He couldn't help but feel disappointed in himself. How lazy was he? Of course, it wasn't like he got free days often anymore, let alone days where he called in from work. So, yeah, maybe he could help out around the house and win back some of Lois's approval, but should he really have to do that? Did he not already do plenty for this family? How often was he going to get an opportunity like this to just rest and relax in peace? Brian looked over at the sink still full of dishes and shook his head. He just didn't feel like bothering, right now, and after debating with himself for a moment longer, he finally said fuck it to the idea of doing chores and moved to exit the kitchen.

He heard a loud yawn and zigzagged just in time to avoid a sleeper-clad Stewie, who was rubbing his eyes and about to walk into the kitchen.

The baby stopped and blinked up at him.

"Fancy running into you here," the child joked groggily. "Well, I see that you're still alive. Lois didn't kill you, then."

"That sort of follows, doesn't it?" Brian agreed dryly, and Stewie pivoted and reversed course, the two of them making their way into the living room together.

"Congratulations," said the infant, and crawled up onto the sofa. "She's not here right now, then? Splendid. I hope she stays gone for a good long while." He turned on the T.V. and it came blaring to life. "These days off don't come around too often."

Brian snorted and hopped up to join him. "What do you have to take a day off from? I thought preschool was comically easy."

"And that's precisely what makes it such a trial. Duh." Stewie adjusted the volume and began to flip around channels. "Besides, I schedule when I'm going to work on my various...projects…" He dragged out that last word intriguingly while examining the dirt under his little baby fingernails "It just so happens that I had nothing planned for today. So, despite the fact that keeping most of my classmates away from huffing paint fumes when they spend most of their time huffing glue, anyway, is a bit of a pointless endeavor, closing the school couldn't have come at a better time."

. Brian was about to dive into the deep end and ask just what "projects" the maniacal genius child was currently working on, but Stewie started talking again.

"So did you finally tell Mr. Hummer where he can shove it?"

Brian side-eyed the boy and shook his head, once again amazed at how Stewie could be so smart and yet so innocent, having no idea how questionable some of his remarks sounded.

Stewie was observing the scene currently playing on each channel as it flickered past, his brow and mouth puckered in distaste as he evidently couldn't find anything to suit his taste.

"Because I don't think Lois would like that very much," he continued. "I'm guessing that she's out there spending your money right now. She won't like it if the gravy train stops rolling in- even if that "Gravy Train" is of the dog food variety."

"Okay, first of all Gravy Train is delicious," Brian retorted. "Second of all, what does that joke even mean? Lois doesn't eat dog food. And, well...I mean, as much as I love her, I'm not letting her touch my bowl, a man's gotta keep something to himself in a marriage…" The canine cleared his throat, embarrassed about how he'd let the conversational train go off its tracks by becoming preoccupied with the subject of dog chow. "Anyway!" he hastily went on, "That doesn't include money. That's not how marriage works. It's not just my money now."

All the same, he hoped Lois didn't go on any kind of a spree today. If she wanted a new shirt or something to cheer herself up, fine, whatever, her son was missing, she was entitled to that.

...And if she wanted a new set of lingerie to model for her loving, patient, oh so patient husband...even better.

But yeah, it really would be for the best if she wasn't buying up a storm.

Stewie shrugged, staring straight ahead, seemingly indifferent, and tossed the remote away, where it landed in parts unknown. He kicked his feet up and down in a mini tantrum. "Ugh! There's not a thing on right now! Perfect, just perfect!"

"Just trash T.V.," Brian agreed, staring at the screen, which showed two enormous women in tiny sundresses attempting to fight each other while being barely held back by two much smaller security officers. In the background sat a reedy-looking man who somewhat resembled Quagmire with a mustache, who shrugged and half-heartedly pled with them to stop, while the show's host just chuckled and the audience cheered.

"So did you quit your job?" Stewie asked after a couple of moments of the only noise in the room coming from the calamity on the T.V.

"No," Brian replied, sighing. "Just called in. Took a personal day, I guess. I just...couldn't deal with the thought of work today, Stewie. Not with what's been going on with Chris."

"Well, are any of you people actually taking steps to locate him?" asked the infant beside him, quirking an eyebrow. "You can't just sit around all helpless, can you? You're supposed to be the 'big people'." Stewie threw up air quotations. He watched the scene on the television with an expression of contempt and gestured at the show while adding, "Not as big as those people, of course."

Brian looked at the boy. "Well, what can we do? We don't want to report him missing yet, Stewie. He might still come back on his own, and if we tell the police what happened, they might jump to conclusions, and assume, you know…" He trailed off, scratching behind his neck anxiously as he felt a flush of embarrassed guilt, even though he'd been continuously reassuring himself since Chris left that he had nothing to be ashamed over.

"What, that you're bad parents?" Stewie, predictably, rushed to fill in, grinning malevolently. "Preposterous!"

The canine felt a genuine flare of anger. "Hey, you can't always prevent kids from doing what they want to do!"

"Next up," the host of the television show announced, "a young woman who declares, 'I won't stop sleeping with my stepfather, and you can't make me!' Right after this commercial break."

"I do wish I had talked things over more thoroughly with Chris, though," Brian admitted, growing pensive. He stroked his chin, and felt all the weight of his responsibilities as these kids' stepfather. Thinking about how he'd given Chris only a few moments of his time when the teenager confided in him about his terrible first day of high school saddened the dog. "I think I probably was trying to sweep his problems under the rug to some extent." He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "I should've taken the time to be more helpful than I was. But it honestly never occurred to me that maybe he'd misinterpret what I said. I never thought the situation would get this bad, Stewie! ...Stewie?"

The dog looked over at the baby who was sitting up in an oddly rigid manner, with a strange, tense expression on his face. He was staring at the screen intently, but there was nothing on at that moment more interesting than an ad for fabric softener.

"Ummmm, Earth to Stewie?" the canine prompted, with a bit of a chuckle. He waved a paw in front of the child's face. "You okay in there?"

The infant genius jumped, and gave Brian a look that utterly puzzled the dog. It was the look that a child often had when you caught him doing something he shouldn't.

"Um, yes!" Stewie chirped, just a touch too loudly and way too cheerfully. Then his mood seemed to swing too far back around the other way, and he snapped, "What a stupid question! Why would you ask me such a...stupid, stupid question? The hell's the matter with you? I was just…" And then in a more normal tone of voice, he finished with, "...I was just noticing how much that Snuggle bear looks like Rupert."

"Uhhh...he doesn't, really, I don't think," Brian said, squinting at the company mascot frolicking in a basket of laundry. He only gave the bear a moment of his attention though, because god, kids were weird. They got distracted by the smallest things. "Anyway. You're right, Stewie. It's time for action, not just talk."

"Did I say that?" asked Stewie, sounding like he had totally checked out of their conversation. The sounds of an audience cheering could be heard as the show with the brawling dysfunctional people returned and the host welcomed the viewers back. The baby groaned and cried, "Bah! Where's that remote?" He began to grope around on the sofa cushions. "Did it disappear into another dimension or something?"

"It's not important, Stewie," Brian tried to insist, but Stewie was apparently determined to tear the couch apart.

"Nineteen-year-old Chastity says that ever since she started attending the University of Phoenix Online, she's been home all day, and so has her out-of-work stepfather, Roy."

The baby grimaced. "Oh, I can't take it, I can't…" Abruptly, he sat back against the cushions and throwing one leg over the other, saying with an attitude of pronounced superciliousness, "It's just...such utter refuse. Trash, waste, garbage, what have you. You can't really expect me to tolerate it."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Well, it's not like I like it either, Stewie, but let's face it, we watched a lot worse when Peter was alive."

"But he's not anymore, is he? I have a new daddy now." Stewie sounded slightly manic, and now he was staring fixedly at the T.V. screen, not moving or even blinking as an attractive young woman in a tight tube top and mini skirt told the camera in an antagonistic and bratty voice,

"My mom is never there for Roy! She never shows him any respect around the house! He deserves better than someone like her! I pay him the attention a man like him needs, so of course he'd rather be with me!"

Huh, how about we see the mom first? was Brian's first thought, which he promptly scolded himself for. Obviously this guy is a total dirtbag! That's not...that's not appropriate stepfather behavior. Shame on him, for preying on his stepdaughter...even if she is hot and a legal adult and...well, what if he really is just terribly lonely because his wife doesn't show him any affection?

However, any benefit of the doubt he was willing to give Roy vanished once he actually appeared on screen. Probably past fifty, he wore a backwards baseball cap and was otherwise slovenly dressed. He also had a dunce of an expression, and a practically indifferent attitude to the rather serious situation he was in.

Roy shrugged when asked about the affair, and scratched under his armpit. "Yeah, uh...at first we was just messin' around, ya know, things wasn't so great with me and the old lady, but now...like, Chastity's just really cool, and...yeah, I guess we're in love or whatever."

A woman closer to Roy's own age stormed on stage. She was a little frumpy looking, but actually seemed like she had it much more together than he did. Apart from being nearly apoplectic with rage.

"You've ruined this family, Roy!" she screamed. "How could you, you worthless piece of - !" The show bleeped her out. "You actually think that this is my fault?!"

"It is your fault!" shouted Chastity, gripping onto Roy's arm. Roy, meanwhile, looked so stoned that he was about to fall asleep right there in front of the T.V. cameras. "You drove us into each other's arms, and now Roy and I have something together you couldn't possibly understand!"

Stewie gave an inarticulate yell of frustration and when Brian looked over at him, the canine saw that the child was holding his head in his hands. He soon released it, though, and began to grope around on the sofa cushions again, presumably for the remote control. " I just don't understand! She's...she's just throwing herself away on him! Just what does she see in him?"

Brian was still completely confused by the severity of Stewie's reaction to this stupid show. "Yeah, I know, it's baffling, huh? Listen, if it's really driving you mad, I'll just get up and shut it off…"

He started to stand up, but before he could, Stewie had launched himself at his lap, his arm outstretched, hand grasping for...the remote, which Brian now noticed was on the other side of him .

" Yesss! Got it! " Stewie hissed in triumph, holding the coveted channel changer in his hand. He was grinning broadly as he pointed it at the T.V. and switched off the family conflict just as the mom was proclaiming, "I don't blame Chastity at all! I blame Roy, the two-timing, perverted scumbag! YOU CORRUPTED MY DAUGHTER, ROY!"

Stewie gave a deep sigh that Brian felt vibrate through his own body, given that the boy was still in his lap. But then, the tyke seemed to go from profound relief to inexplicably tense. Brian felt Stewie freeze. Very, very gradually, the grin faded from his face, and his head turned, turning his face up to look into Brian's.

"Um…" Brian stuttered, perplexed as to why Stewie was looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Or a cornered squirrel. Damn squirrels. The neighborhood had an infestation, he swore. "Hi…?"

"Hi!" Stewie squeaked, and then immediately seemed to come back to life and back off his lap. He scrambled back to his previous spot on the couch.

"I guess you really, really don't like watching family dramas play out on cheap daytime television," observed Brian with a chuckle. "It makes you act completely loopy. Well, I hope you can find something better to watch, or something else to occupy your time. Because I think it's time I made some phone calls, Stewie." He jumped down to the floor and stood with his hands on his hips and a new sense of purpose. "You convinced me. This has gone on long enough. It's time to find out just where Chris went and bring him home."

"What do you mean you can't get him back!?"

Brian shouted out in exasperation. He'd been on the phone for a solid three hours or so trying to get a lead on where Chris had ended up. Of course, most of that had been on hold as he was transferred from one representative of the Peace Corps to another, each one only a smidge more helpful than the next, until he'd finally been put on with a person that knew something. It still wasn't much help, though. Chris had been deployed to some remote area in South America. That's all they would say about his location, and apparently it would be very costly to go in and retrieve him at this time.

"I mean exactly what I said, sir. We just don't have any easy way to go and get your son back, in this present moment."

"Well, pick the hard way!"

The dog was about at his limit. This should be fairly simple, right? The Peace Corps had wrongly deployed a freshman teenager. They should be able to go and bring him back home, at the very least. How could this moron not see how urgent this situation was? Jesus, they were practically begging for a lawsuit.

"Sir, please stop shouting. That won't solve anything."

The canine pulled the phone away from his head and gripped it tightly to the point where it felt like the device could shatter in his paw at any moment. This was so frustrating. Could nothing just work out for him? He hissed through gritted teeth before taking a breath and bringing the phone back up to his ear, speaking as calmly as he could muster.

"Then, please tell me what will solve something."

There was silence on the other end of the line, as if the representative was trying to think. After a few moments, there was finally a reply.

"Well, we don't have anyone here currently who we can send out to your son's village, but if you or someone else wants to go and get him, we can arrange to have you flown out there so you can get him yourself."

Brian's jaw fell at the suggestion.

Go get him myself? Go get him myself?!

"Seriously?! That's the best you can do?! Send me or another member of my family out into some dangerous remote territory in the hopes that we can find Chris?!"

Silence again and then a sigh.

"Yes, sir. For now, that is the best I can do until we have someone here who is able to make the trip out there instead, and I'm sorry but I can't say for sure when that will be. The Peace Corps has been rather short-handed as of late."

There was a chuckle. Brian felt his blood beginning to boil.

"That's probably why we were so lax with recruiting your son in the first pla-."

Brian had heard enough. He slammed the phone back on the hook and growled.

"What an asshole."

At that moment, the dog picked up the sound of the front door opening and shutting. In short order he was joined in the kitchen by his wife who was carrying several shopping bags. The woman set them down on the kitchen table and had a seat across from her husband.

"Well, any luck with finding out what to do about Chris?"

Straight and to the point. Great.

Brian hesitated a moment, trying to pick his words carefully.

"W-Well, kinda. It's a little...complicated, honey."

The woman's expression was blank as she just stared him down. The dog gulped.

Jeez. Why does she have to look so intimidating?

Luckily, Lois didn't stare at him for long as she turned towards her bags and began removing several food items to put away.

"Complicated? It doesn't seem that complicated to me, Brian. Either my baby is on his way home or he isn't. Which is it?"

Somehow this calm but passive aggressive attitude of Lois's was her at her most terrifying. The dog was simply unable to get a bead on what was going through her head, and that made it impossible to know how to approach the situation. He shook his head in defeat. Might as well just tell it to her straight. No point in trying to save face, now.

"He's not on his way home, Lois, and nobody is going to be able to bring him back anytime soon."

The woman went stiff and ceased pulling out her groceries. A look of sadness washed across her face for only a brief moment, but it was gone in an instant. Brian felt his heart break for his wife. She was obviously concerned, and he hated that this was all, undeniably, partially his fault. He instinctively reached out to touch her hand reassuringly but was denied the contact. It didn't surprise him. Still, he wanted to help in any way he could.

"I did find out where he is, though. He was deployed in some remote part of South Ameri-."

A loud ringing sound cut the dog off. The two of them turned to look at the source of the noise. It was the phone. Lois was the first to get up to answer.

"Hello?"

In the next instant, the woman gasped and smiled the biggest smile Brian had seen in quite some time.

"Chris?!"

The dog shot up from his chair and rushed over to his wife's side.

"Oh my god! That's Chris?! Is he ok?!"

Lois raised a hand to silence the dog as she spoke again.

"Honey, are you ok?! When are you coming home?! Mommy is so worried about her big man!"

The room grew silent except for the faint sound of a barely audible but also unmistakable nasally response from the person on the other end of the line. Brian felt a grin forming on his lips. Yep. That was definitely the voice of the oldest Griffin child. Chris continued speaking for a while as he, Brian assumed, explained his current situation to his mother. As soon as he was done, Lois responded.

"Oh, sweetie. I'm so glad you're ok. That's great to hear. Please be careful and take care of yourself. We'll sort all this out once you are back home and safe."

Brian heard Chris speak again. Then, Lois finished the phone call.

"I love you, too, honey. Bye."

The dog heard the line go dead. Lois hung up the phone and released a huge sigh of relief. Brian did the same.

"So…everything is ok? Chris is coming home?"

The woman looked down at him and nodded her head.

"Yes, Brian. Everything seems to be fine. Chris said he'd come home...in a month...once everyone forgot he is a freshman."

A look of uncertainty suddenly appeared as Lois stood there appearing to think for a moment.

"I...wish it were sooner, but I guess this is better than nothing. I can't help but still worry, though…"

Brian nodded his head in understanding.

"Well, of course. You're his mother. It's only natural for you to worry about your son, especially when he's out there on some foreign continent. But you heard Chris. He's ok. From what I could pick up, he sounded pretty normal. I'm sure he'll be fine, and we'll all be able to put this behind us as soon as he gets back."

Silence for a beat and then another sigh from Lois.

"Sure. Put this behind us."

Brian knew the woman was talking to him, but she was no longer looking at him as she spoke. Instead, she was gazing off to the side, staring off in the distance, lost in thought. She stayed that way for a moment longer before finally turning back towards the kitchen table.

"I'm going to go lie down upstairs. Can you finish putting the groceries away? I'll take the other bags up with me."

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed said bags and proceeded out into the living room towards the stairs. Brian called out to her.

"You got it, sweetie. I'll take care of everything down here. You go and relax. It will all be fine. You'll see."

The woman didn't give any indication that she had heard him as she began walking up the stairs. Brian set to work putting the groceries away.

The next several days could almost have passed for normal.

Brian returned to work. His job still sucked, but he was able to more or less check his home life issues at the door when he walked into the office. His marriage still wasn't what he wanted it to be, but for the moment, Lois wasn't treating him like she hated him, and was even pleasantly conversational at times, and that's what he chose to focus on.

Still, maybe they all should have picked up on the fact that they were all waiting for a bubble to burst. It was like they didn't even know it, even though things were pretty obviously almost normal, and not completely normal. Neither Lois nor Brian could be completely relaxed about Chris. Over breakfast, or when they were reading at night in their separate beds, Lois would say in a not-quite convincing voice that she was proud of Chris and thought all of this would be good for him in the long run. Then, in a more genuine tone, she would say, "still, I worry." That was the extent to which she would let the stress show.

But Brian knew that it was still there.

As for Chris's siblings, Meg continued her life as normal, but she would ask every day after school if Chris had called again. And Stewie… Stewie occasionally acted like he was dealing with his own issues, but Brian would be willing to bet next to anything that concern over Chris wasn't one of them.

Then a letter came in the mail, and Chris's well-being once again became- for most of them- an issue that hung in immediate balance.

"Mail's here," Brian announced, strolling into the kitchen that Saturday afternoon, holding the stack of letters that the mailman had handed him.

"Well, bravo, boy," said Stewie from his high chair, where he was coloring. "You not only managed to refrain from chasing the letter carrier out of our yard, but also successfully fetched the mail whilst resisting the urge to tear it to shreds? Well done!"

"Talk to me again about tearing it to shreds after I open this credit card statement," Brian joked back. He sorted through the stack in his hand. Bill, bill, coupons for a new seafood place, bill, an ad for a lady's clothing store…

Lois, who was sitting next to Stewie at the table, clipping coupons, reached over and grabbed the clothing ad off the table.

Bill, a letter from Chris…

Wait...a letter from Chris?!

"Hey!" Brian exclaimed. "We got a letter from Chris!"

"What?!" Lois shrieked, and, dropping her scissors, practically threw herself halfway across the table as she leaned over to grab the letter out of Brian's paw. "Oh, my God!" she cried excitedly, after reading the return address. "A letter from Chris! Hey, everybody! We got a letter from Chris!" She tore open the envelope without any further ado. "Let's see what my baby has to say!"

She smiled as she began to read the letter. "He says he's doing fine. Ooo, he even met a girl!" The smile dropped off of her face in one fell swoop. "He... No, this can't be right…" She appeared to be rereading something in the letter. "He...got...married?"

"What?!" Brian shouted, and walked over to her, reaching out for the letter. "Let me see that…"

"What, do you think I'm an idiot?" Lois held the letter up high in the air so he couldn't get it. "I know what it says! It says my high school freshman son got married to the daughter of some tribal chief and isn't coming home again!" The letter fluttered down to the table as she buried her face in her hands. "How can this be happening?"

"I...I…" Brian was just as shocked as she was. He picked up the letter from where it had fallen and scanned it quickly, but it was just like Lois had said. He had a sinking feeling in his gut.

So accidentally sending Chris off to the rainforest is coming back to bite me in the ass, after all.

"I can't believe this…" he muttered, stunned. He glanced around for support. Lois was still covering her face. Stewie stared back at him with slightly-widened eyes. And Meg suddenly spoke up from behind him in the doorway.

"What's going on? Is it about Chris? Is he okay?"

"Well, yes, that's the silver lining here…" the canine started to say, but Lois shouted over him

"Silver lining?! He's not okay, Brian, he thinks he wants to live in South America forever instead of coming home to his family!"

"Oh, my God," said Meg. "Why doesn't he want to come home? What happened?"

"I'll tell you what happened!" Lois replied angrily. She pushed her chair back forcefully from the table and stood up. "He got caught in a venus flytrap!"

"What?" asked Meg with a quizzical brow, not following.

"He's gotten roped into some sham marriage with some...some...savage floozie!"

"Um, Lois?" Brian interjected. "I don't think that's quite politically correct..."

"Shut up!" Lois fired back, and he did. "My little boy thinks that he doesn't need his family anymore and wants to live in a remote jungle in South America. What are we going to do about this?"

"Well," put forth Stewie, "I believe a wedding gift is customary. Don't you have five or six toasters left over from your last one?"

"I- I- I- I…" Brian stammered, too intimidated to speak coherently.

"Spit it out, Speedy Gonzalez!" Lois snapped. "How are we going to get Chris back?" She slapped her palms down hard on the table and then proceeded to run her fingers nervously through her hair, practically tearing at it.

"Ohhh, do we have to split them up?" Meg asked sadly. "Weddings are so romantic !"

"Not your mom and stepdad's," Stewie stated dryly.

"Oh, Meg, please!" Lois retorted. "I know you've got next to no experience, because no guy will have you, but that doesn't mean you have to be so stupid about relationships!"

Things were devolving into more and more of a shit show, and Brian hated feeling so ineffectual. Didn't he used to be the clear-thinking, rational, helpful one?

Hesitantly, he spoke up again. "Weh- w-well, I did speak to a representative from the Peace Corps a few days ago, and like I was telling you, there isn't much we can do about bringing him home. They said there was just no way of sending anybody in to go get him, and that our only option would be to go there ourselves and- "

"Wha?" Lois cut him off in a steely-toned voice, her expression blank. "What did you just say, Brian?"

What did I just say?

"That we...that we could go get him ourselves? Is that what you mean? Did I not mention that before?"

"No," said Lois, still in that eerily calm voice. "No, I think somehow you forgot to mention that part, Brian."

Brian winced. "Well, uh, th- they did say, uh, that they could arrange to fly us in to retrieve Chris ourselves, but that's, you know, totally insane! We'd be going into a dangerous part of the world, without any kind of training on how to survive in a jungle, getting dropped off God knows how close to Chris's actual village, walking into a cultural environment we know nothing about and taking their help away? Of course, I dismissed that option right out of hand as being too...too crazy…"

The ire on Lois's face grew more and more visible as he spoke, until her eye was actually twitching by the time he finished.

" You dismissed it right out of hand? You determined, all by yourself, that my little boy wasn't worth going after?"

Brian scrunched down in his seat as Lois strode past him on her way to the door connecting the kitchen and living room, afraid that her quick movement meant she was going to slug him. She stood in the doorway with both hands planted square on her hips and looked at Meg.

"Meg, you have ten minutes to pack your suitcase or you'll have to leave without it. You and I are going to South America to bring your brother home!"

The seriousness of her demeanor sent Meg running past her and presumably upstairs to hurriedly pack, but although everything about Lois right now said that she would brook no opposition, Brian still protested.

"But Lois! You can't mean right now!" He jumped down from his chair. "Are you sure you don't want to think about this a little longer? They probably can't fly you out tonight, anyway. How about we just calm down and think it over a little more?"

"No!" shouted Lois immediately. "The time for thought is over. Now it's time for action. We've been sitting here for days, doing nothing, when we could've been going after Chris. You wanna make yourself useful now, you can watch Stewie while we're gone."

She turned to leave, but just before she did, she added, "And really, Brian, if I were you, I'd be grateful that we're going to be spending this time apart. I don't need a cooler head before I decide what to do about Chris, but I do need a cooler head if I'm ever going to forgive you for this."