Chapter 2: ""
Knock, knock, knock.
Peter picks up a metal garbage hawk and attempts to seize the door knob handle and twist.
"Eh ... eh ... oh ... Brian, can you get that? I'm too comfortable to get up."
"Ow, sorry Peter. I'd like to do simple tasks like open doors, but right now I'm going through withdraw. Now if you excuse me a minute, I have to go shake uncontrollably in a corner for a few minutes."
"Oh, oh great," he calls to Brian as Brian walks off, "fine. Is it too much to ask that somebody lift a finger around here? Geez," he opens the door.
Standing in front of him is a 17 year old Indian boy in full dress and a black pony tail.
"Yes, is this the residence of the family Griffins?"
"Yes," he pushes the door and it shuts as he turns around to head back to the couch. He hears the door knocked on again.
"Look, I don't want to find "god", buy those awful cookies, or get another one of those encyclopedia things. Their ideas encourage the kids."
"Wait, sir, you do not understand," says the boy.
"Really? God, you're like the 10th person to tell me that today."
Lois walks to the door quickly.
"Come on in, please! Peter, this is the cultural exchange student Meg mentioned yesterday. Hi, I'm Lois, Meg's mother and this is Peter, my husband."
Peter extends his hand, "Hey, I'm Peter Griffin. You'll have to excuse me back there. I saw your cloths and immediately assumed you crazy. Either that, or Halloween came awful early."
The Indian boy puts his hand's palm facing their face, up in greetings.
"I am [i]Big Thinker[/i] of the Mezzojaha tribe. I am honored by your hospitality."
"Oh, that is so cool - honey check this out - this kid has his own tribe!"
"Actually, I am but a member of my people."
"There, there. Study hard enough and one day you'll climb to the white man top," says Peter.
"Ah ... yes..."
Megan walks downstairs.
"Megan sweetie, the cultural exchange student is here. Meet [i]Big Thinker[/i]. [i]Big Thinker[/i], this is our daughter Megan."
"How," replies Big Thinker.
"Oh, easy - I screwed her mom and 9 months later, BAM!" replies Peter.
"Dad!" Meg's pupils dilate.
"Oh, and we also have a son named Chris. But he's not here right now. And a dog named Brian and let's see ... who am I forgetting? Oh yeah, little Stewie. He's only two years old."
Stewie comes trotting down the steps and stops midway to glare at them all.
"Did someone call my name? I say, speak up now, I don't have all day," they all look at him. "What the devil are you looking at? Don't screw with me you lower class horde of monkies, I distinctly heard my name uttered. Well? I know I heard you! Don't think you are fooling me ... fess up! Fine them - don't admit it! Agh! Damn you all!" he scatters upstairs.
He runs into his room and slams the door.
"Their days of mocking and dickerey will soon be over. Once I have completed the meteorological transmogrifier, the very heavens themselves shall split asunder and rain volts of mighty Zeus' thunder rods upon that vile woman! They will all rue the day! You all hear me down there?" he stomps on the floor, "R U E T H E D A Y! I say, cower at my evil prowess! I don't hear you all cowering!" he continues to stomp away like a madman, "cringe in horror! Why aren't you all cringing?" his foot breaks through the floor, leaving him stuck. "Damn! well, this ... well," he wriggles around and is unable to free himself, "maybe if I ... blast! What does she call it again? Ah, yes .. ma .. I say, mommy. Mommy help me. Help me damn you!"
Knock, knock, knock.
Peter picks up a metal garbage hawk and attempts to seize the door knob handle and twist.
"Eh ... eh ... oh ... Brian, can you get that? I'm too comfortable to get up."
"Ow, sorry Peter. I'd like to do simple tasks like open doors, but right now I'm going through withdraw. Now if you excuse me a minute, I have to go shake uncontrollably in a corner for a few minutes."
"Oh, oh great," he calls to Brian as Brian walks off, "fine. Is it too much to ask that somebody lift a finger around here? Geez," he opens the door.
Standing in front of him is a 17 year old Indian boy in full dress and a black pony tail.
"Yes, is this the residence of the family Griffins?"
"Yes," he pushes the door and it shuts as he turns around to head back to the couch. He hears the door knocked on again.
"Look, I don't want to find "god", buy those awful cookies, or get another one of those encyclopedia things. Their ideas encourage the kids."
"Wait, sir, you do not understand," says the boy.
"Really? God, you're like the 10th person to tell me that today."
Lois walks to the door quickly.
"Come on in, please! Peter, this is the cultural exchange student Meg mentioned yesterday. Hi, I'm Lois, Meg's mother and this is Peter, my husband."
Peter extends his hand, "Hey, I'm Peter Griffin. You'll have to excuse me back there. I saw your cloths and immediately assumed you crazy. Either that, or Halloween came awful early."
The Indian boy puts his hand's palm facing their face, up in greetings.
"I am [i]Big Thinker[/i] of the Mezzojaha tribe. I am honored by your hospitality."
"Oh, that is so cool - honey check this out - this kid has his own tribe!"
"Actually, I am but a member of my people."
"There, there. Study hard enough and one day you'll climb to the white man top," says Peter.
"Ah ... yes..."
Megan walks downstairs.
"Megan sweetie, the cultural exchange student is here. Meet [i]Big Thinker[/i]. [i]Big Thinker[/i], this is our daughter Megan."
"How," replies Big Thinker.
"Oh, easy - I screwed her mom and 9 months later, BAM!" replies Peter.
"Dad!" Meg's pupils dilate.
"Oh, and we also have a son named Chris. But he's not here right now. And a dog named Brian and let's see ... who am I forgetting? Oh yeah, little Stewie. He's only two years old."
Stewie comes trotting down the steps and stops midway to glare at them all.
"Did someone call my name? I say, speak up now, I don't have all day," they all look at him. "What the devil are you looking at? Don't screw with me you lower class horde of monkies, I distinctly heard my name uttered. Well? I know I heard you! Don't think you are fooling me ... fess up! Fine them - don't admit it! Agh! Damn you all!" he scatters upstairs.
He runs into his room and slams the door.
"Their days of mocking and dickerey will soon be over. Once I have completed the meteorological transmogrifier, the very heavens themselves shall split asunder and rain volts of mighty Zeus' thunder rods upon that vile woman! They will all rue the day! You all hear me down there?" he stomps on the floor, "R U E T H E D A Y! I say, cower at my evil prowess! I don't hear you all cowering!" he continues to stomp away like a madman, "cringe in horror! Why aren't you all cringing?" his foot breaks through the floor, leaving him stuck. "Damn! well, this ... well," he wriggles around and is unable to free himself, "maybe if I ... blast! What does she call it again? Ah, yes .. ma .. I say, mommy. Mommy help me. Help me damn you!"
