Peter stands outside with Brain. "What's up Peter? I assume something serious; you didn't even bring your Nurf Arrow gun." "I did it again, Brian! I offended Big Thinker again!" "So?" "What do I do?" "Forgive me if I don't do a double-take Peter; I expect you'll offend him plenty of time before he leaves." "Well, can't you give me more advice? Like last time. Tell me what I need to know!" "Peter – knowing is only half the battle; the other is yourself." "Hey! I can take me any day. I'll show myself who's the boss around here." "Yikes. I'd like to help, but I'm in the middle of Denial. I need a drink, and its the only thing that will make me feel better. If I don't get one soon, I'll start hallucinating."
Chris peddles downhill; going faster and faster as the bike gains speed. "The bridge!" the monkey yells and points out. Chris sees the lake bridge split open to allow a taller boat passage, "Agh!!!" he squeezes the handle brakes. Nothing. "Someone cut the brake lines!" The bike races at the bridge and then starts climbing up it – still moving quickly. The bike shoots up and out into the air, across the bridge opening.
Brian looks over at the big, early-rising moon. The bike flies passed it. "Peter, did you see that?" "See what?" turns and looks, "Geez Brian, it's just the moon." "Didn't you notice anything unusual?" "Nope. Just creators, cheese and a large partially etched word 'chair'. Why?" "Nothing," shakes his head, "never mind. I'm gonna go back inside," turns around to leave. "Hey, what about Big Thinker?" "Well, how did you insult him this time?" "I may have … accidentally said his religion was phony and trying to kill him." "Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter – have you ever thought about using an intermediate?" "Hey! Stupid people are people too; just because they're morons doesn't mean we can use them." "Okay … I'm going to ignore that one and leave you with this: stop insulting his religion!" goes into the house. Peter waits a few seconds and then mouth-mocks Brian, "Stop insulting their religion."
Stewie opens and turns on a toy laptop computer. It starts, "He he – how do you spell apple?" in Barney the Dinosaur's voice. "How do you spell death wish!" and looks at the keys, "Hmmm, let's see …" he trials off as he presses some buttons. He checks the ports in the back and sees a USB plug-in; he connects a chord leading from the downstairs computer, to it, "Okay … I need to reroute the primary feed through the secondary memory bank's subprocessor and circumnavigate the computer's command codes … ah ha! Success! Rupert, I am in!" he types. A paper clip with a face pops up, "What would you like to do today?" Stewie types: Reposition the satellite. "Please enter your coordinates." Stewie leans over to check a map and types. "It will take approximately 48 hours for the satellite to reposition. Thanks you for using Comcast's Satellite Service Provider # 69. Good-bye." "Rupert, the time is nearly at hand! All I have to do is finish my calculations and enter than 48 hours from now when the satellite is repositioned. Hurricane Stewie is about to be unleashed upon the woman! A category five death storm! Um, yes – that sounded particularly more malevolent in my head … Rupert! Ignore those last remarks!"
Lois walks toward the door in the kitchen that leads to the Dining Room. She has a stack of seven plates in her hands, against her chest. Peter, just having walked into the Living Room entrance door to the kitchen, runs to the door Lois is heading toward and blocks it. "Hey honey, could you step out of the way? I got to take th4ese diner plates to the Dining room." "Nooo, you don't wanna go in there," he says quickly. Lois laughs, "Why not?" "Cause, ah, I, ah," thinks: working on the table, broke the table, sold the table… "farted," he says as if it were something clever. "Oh, honey – that's no problem; you fart in bed all the time…" trials off in a slightly unhappy tone. She gently pushes him to the side and goes out the door. Peter fumbles, and then aces out and blocks the doorless entrance to the Dining room. He holds his arms out. "Peter, no games; these are a bit heavy." "We can't eat in here." "Why not?" she asks suspiciously. "Ah, ah … because this is the room Mr. Weed died in." "Oh! I had completely forgotten! I understand you want to honor the memory of Mr. Weed; sure, I'll go set these up in the kitchen." "Yeah, yeah, Mr. Tweed. That's what I wanted to do – honor him," and he pushes Lois into the kitchen.
The front door opens and the monkey runs in and up the stairs to Chris' room. Lois calls out from the kitchen, "Chris, is that you?" "Yeah, mom!" "All right. Chris, when you have a moment, can you come talk to me?" "Okay," he runs up the stairs and into his room. He shuts the door and sets his pad and pens on his bed. The closet door is slightly ajar. Chris sits on the floor and unties his shoes, to change into casual house shoes. The closet door closes. He looks over – no monkey. "Are you in here, monkey?" "Above you." "Ah!" he says in shock after turning his head around and seeing the monkey's right next to him. The monkey backs up in the bed a little bit. "Sorry," says Chris, "force on habit." "Those were very good sketches." "Thanks. I hope to one day make my own comic book or draw my own TV show." "You could draw for disney." "Nah, disney is evil." "Chris, I want you to draw me; like in one of those pictures." "I guess I could do that, just-" "Wearing this," the monkey points to his smile, "and only this. I want you to draw me in the hairy buff." "But, you're a monkey; you're already naked." "Shhh…" says the monkey. Chris sits in momentary, then says, "Okay," and with that he gets up and kicks a bean bag over in front of his bed. He then retrieves the pad & pens from the bed. The monkey takes Chris' pillow, places it on the opposite end, and rests it's head on it; body lying sideways – front facing Chris. Chris starts sketching the monkey with a broken bit of coal. "Why, mister artist – I do believe you're blushing." "Nah, I'm still exhausted from peddling so fast for so long." "Would it help you if I sang a song?" "Not really-" "When I think about you I touch myself…" "No, it's definitely not helping." "I'll desist." Chris continues to sketch out the monkey. "You know, this is the most erotic experience of my life," says the monkey. Chris stops – wide eyed, "Oh my god – what's that?!" "My manhood." "AH!!!" throws the implements down and evacuates the room. The monkey looks down at his crotch and pulls at it, "no wait – that's my hairy tale," he fiddles around, "there's my manhood. Oh ….. OH," he shifts his eyes back and forth, runs to the door and shuts it.
Chris runs to the kitchen, after finding the upstairs bathroom occupied, and turns the sink on; he splashes water into his eyes and yells, "My eyes! My eyes!" Lois runs over to Chris, "Chris! What did you get in them?!" "Sin!" "Oh," looks at Peter; he hangs up the phone. "Honey, I keep telling g you: the devil would never come and do that in your eyes. And it's not pronounced mastication." Brian, who walked in moments earlier says, "Not this again – did someone catch him 'masticating' again?" "No, I saw the evil monkey's wiener! Except he's not evil anymore, so I guess I saw a good wiener." Brian points to Lois and says before leaving, "You know, I don't have to be sober for this." Peter sits back down at the kitchen table. Reading the newspaper he periodically lifts his eyes over the edge to make sure Lois isn't going to the Dining Room. The newspaper headline reads: 12 Dead In Randy Newman Attack. "Well, while you're down here honey, I wanted to ask you if you'd like to go camping with Big Thinker in the back yard. I saw the tent in the basement and figured if you'd spent time together, you guys might get to be friends. Who knows – maybe next summer you can visit his reservation. So, you wanna go-" Chris blurts out, "YES!" "Good. I think Big Thinker is in the backyard; maybe he can help you pitch the tent." "Hang on a second Lois – I don't want any of my boys playing any of those queer games." CUT TO: Richard Simmons. Voiceover: "New from Parker Partners, it's: Gaynopoly!" A guy rolls the dice and moves. "Ut-oh – do not pass go," and Simmons walks over, kneels in and puts his arms around the guy, "looks like I can have it all in the game of life!" The guy's eyes widen in panic.
BACK TO THEM: "Peter, I meant that they can set up the tent that's down in the basement." "Oh. Chris, son, it's perfectly natural for two men to share a tent together. Just don't share the same sleeping bag." Chris silently walks off. "Well, it's close to diner time, so I'm gonna go ahead and bring Stewie down and then set up," she touches one of his hands and walks away. Peter waits a minutes. "Oh … oh … OH!" takes off to the bathroom.
Chris goes outside. Big Thinker is dispersing seeds from his right hand, and covering them with dirt with his feet. "Hey B.T., what are you doing?" "Planting corn." "For what?" "The big harvest. There is going to be a lot to be thankful for this year." "Cool. I had some corn once; it came out like Chicklets. I named them all Cornholio!" "Do you wish to seed the Earth with me Chris Griffin?" "Maybe later. I came out here 'cause my mom said we should go camping together." "Yes, she suggested it to me as well." "Well, I guess I'll go get the tent from the basement." "No, you cannot go down there." "I'm pretty sure I can…" confused. Thinks for a moment and replies, "I mean … let me go and get the tent for you." "Okay." "Here," takes one of Chris' hands and pours the remaining seeds into it, "please finish for me Chris Griffin," and walks off, back into the house. Chris starts tossing the seeds around and sings, "It's raining zein…"
Lois knocks on Stewie's bedroom door. "Hey Stewie, time for diner." He eyes her evilly. "What are you doing down there?" she kneels in. Hey types quickly to remove what he was doing, "I'm learning to spell with Barney, yes. Oh – how I love the big, fuzzy, stupid purple icon. Hummm, I suddenly got chills." "Oh, spell something for me," she asks. He types one letter at a time slowly: D – I – E and looks at her evilly again, then types some more: S – E – L. "All right sweaty – you'll play more after diner," she reaches down and picks him up, "Up we go." "Oh god, shouldn't you at least be wearing proper sanitary gloves? I say – where's OSHA when you need them?"
Lois sits Stewie in his diner chair. "Big Thinker, go ahead and make yourself comfortable, diner will be done in a minute," she goes into the kitchen. B.T. turns to see Meg suddenly sitting next to him. He shudders briefly. "So … do you have a squaw waiting at your reservation?" Blurts out, "Yes." "You know … what happens in Quahog, stays in Quahog," she rubs his left leg with her right hand. Brian leans over to Stewie, "10 to 1 she'll play footsie with him." "You're on," Stewie slaps down a dollar. Peter sits at the table, "Geez, when are we gonna get some freakin' service around here?" Lois walks in and sets two pots on the table. "About time, I was ready to complain to the manager." Everyone serves themselves as Lois brings in a plate full of bread rolls. She sits. "So, B.T., how do you like out city so far?" "It has been a fascinating comparison to where I come from. Also, I saw you mayor cry when someone dropped trash on the ground."
CUT TO: Mayor West crying after someone drops garbage on the street. Wipes the tear away, "Reminds me of when I first littered."
BACK TO THEM. Lois speaks, "So, have you and Chris set up the tent yet?" "Tent? What tent? Can I come with you? I love tents!" says Meg. Stewie and Brian snicker. "No honey, just the guys," replies Lois. Brian leans over to Stewie, "Hey, you hear th-" "Shut up," with his arms folded. "It's all done. B.T. says we're gonna have a campfire and stuff!" "Speaking of fire, did you know primitive cavemen invented fire? It's true, I saw it on T.V.," says Peter. Everyone doesn't say anything and moves on. "I am going to take Chris on a Spiritual Journey." "Well, we're already Catholic and-" Peter interrupts Lois:"And that's more than enough. We don't need any other crazy religion telling us we're sinful hell spawn; the Catholic church does that just fine." Big Thinker comments, "A religion it's not, but rather a journey to find oneself." "But I'm right here," says Chris. "I meant inside yourself." "Like Innerspace?" B.T. taps the table impatiently, "You shall see later." "No fair! How come I don't get a spiritual journey?" whines Megan. Brian says quietly, "'Cause Satan's busy." Meg turns her head to him, "What?" curiously. "Nothing." Stewie snickers. "Maybe next time, honey," says Lois; starting to get impatient herself. "Listen – sans Meg speaking again, I'm sure we will have a perfectly good diner and that not a things will go wrong; nothing at all."
CUT TO FIVE MINUTES LATER: Everyone is exiting the kitchen, pissed off. "You're an ass," says Lois as she walks out of the kitchen. "You make me likable," says Meg, who follows. Chris sits for a second before saying, "I'm gonna go wait outside for B.T.," and heads out as well. Brian turns and looks at Peter, "You know, when most people stare this long, its usually in complex thought or in appreciation of the arts – like Auguste Rodin's The Thinker, but for you it's the raw stupidity. Why, Peter? Why? "What? All I said is that his neck doesn't look red, so it must be the one on his penis – assuming they don't put poles threw them." "As a non Indian myself, even I found that in poor taste for diner conversation … and I've been known to eat off the floor." "What do I do now?" "Call someone who gives a crap," and Brian up and leaves. Peter shouts out, "But everyone craps! How do I narrow it down?!" "Talk to him," Stewie says. "What?" looks at Stewie. "Let him know you're mentally deficient and humbly apologize." "And maybe he'll forgive me? And Lois?" "Fuck Lois. Just toss the little scalp monger out if he doesn't." "I guess I'll have to give him something else." "Or package him to Abu Dhabi – whatever." "Well, here goes nothing," and Peter leaves the kitchen. A minute passes and Stewie speaks, "So, ah, just, eh … gonna leave me here – is that what it is?"
Peter enters the Living Room; only Big Thinker is there. "For your information, my neck is read because my people toil outside hard for hours hunting, building, and planting our food, while you go to Wal-Mart for all that." "Sometimes even Winn-Dixie." "Your comments were an insult to my people's daily struggle to survive." "Just tell me what part of the house you want – any part, even our bedroom. At first her back will ache a little, but it'll eventually become accustomed to the floor. Some how I'll live with the couch, and-" "Chris' bedroom." "Couldn't you two just share it?" "He can have the tent. That way at least one of you will know what it's like to live in harmony with mother nature. I'll even teach him a thing or two during tonight's moon." "Well, I did say anything, so I guess it's a deal." "Here," hands Peter another beaded necklace and walks away to claim the bedroom. "You know, I should feel terrible for the way I gave my son's bedroom and belongings, but these beads are so shiny!" he plays with them, "Hehehehehehehehehehehe…"
