Chapter 7
Chris and Big Thinker sit next to a small fire that crackles.
"Am I there yet?" asks Chris.
"Patience."
"Is a Spiritual Journey anything like finding one's self sexually? 'Cause I've already done that. In fact, I did it twice last night."
Big Thinker shudders, then says, "The journey of a thousand miles beings with a single step."
"Why don't they use a car? Is it cheating if you take the journey with OnStar? What's that?" points to what Big Thinker is holding.
Big Thinker shoves it in Chris' mouth, "It has many uses," says lowly, "like shutting you the fuck up…" then ads in a normal volume, "smoke it."
"Whuh izsh it?" Chris tries to speak.
"A special herb that opens your mind for the journey. During the journey you will see and hear strange sounds and objects, but they will not be real. You may even think you see your parents, but don't let anything stop you until you've complete it."
Chris' eyes widen and he shouts, "I'm freaking out!"
"We haven't even started yet."
…
Peter passes Megan's door, then goes in.
"Hey honey, what are you still doing up?"
"Ah!" puts the hand holding the binoculars behind her back after turning to face him, "nothing. But I am having a little trouble sleeping; can you read me a story?"
"Sure sweetie," picks up a book and sits on her bed. He looks at how thick it is and makes a perturbed sound, "Eh … once upon a time there was a dad who gave a damn. Good night," lies the book down and leaves, smiling.
…
…
The next morning. Chris opens his bedroom door. The curtains are drawn shut and the room is dark, with an ominous shade of gold from the dark yellow curtains. Items are strewn about. He bends over and fins pages ripped out of his sketch book and his pens snapped in half.
"What the…" holds a broken pencil.
"Where were you last night?"
Chris looks over and sees the closet door ajar; the monkey sitting with it's arms folded.
"I'm on a spiritual journey. I just came up here to get my pad and pens, but-"
"Who is he?" demands the monkey.
"What do you mean?"
"The black-haired spawn."
"Oh, that's Big Thinker. He's a cultural exchange student."
"I saw you two sitting next to each other last night. Then he retreated to the tent with you."
"Oh, he helped me start the journey. So far I haven't seen anything but my dad had one once and saw the Fonz, so I'm watching the clouds and-"
"Do you love him?"
"Huh?"
"Do not play coy with me, Chris Griffin. I asked if you love him!"
"Well, as a friend."
"Liar! You're a liar, you two-timing turd box!"
"Turd box?" confused.
The monkey shows his evil, sharp teeth, then points in a threatening manner. He slams the closet door.
"Ah, shit," Chris looks down.
…
…
Brian comes down from upstairs. Peter is on the couch watching "Magnum, pi".
"Hey Brian. How'd you sleep last night?"
"Terrible. I kept shaking and waking up. I need a drink."
"You can do it. Drinking is no good for you anyway. It kills bain sills. Heh – I remember this one time me and my buddies got totally wasted and decided to go grave robbing and I put this circle of flowers on my head and took this big piss on an Indian burial mond.
Good times," pats his left hand on the couch arm rest.
"Ah, Peter…" says Brian.
"What?" looks over and sees Big Thinker standing at the kitchen entrance, "Oh, come on!"
…
Peter and Big Thinker stand in front of the house.
"You have offended me IMMENSELY! Such aggrevious, callous comments lead me to believe you are a man of poor character and incapable of amending what you have done."
"How about I give you the porch. Will that do it?"
"That is grossly insufficient for hat you have done."
"How about if I throw in one of the bathrooms? You can take the upstairs one; it's next to Chris' room. But you got to jiggle the handle a little bit."
"The house."
"Come again?"
"Sign the deed over to me. That is proper compensation."
"Gee, I don't know…"
"Unless you want me to tell your wife you piss on our graves."
"Let's definitely not do that. She's still pissed about that time I tried to flush Meg's dead cat down the toilet. I still don't know why the Roto-Rooter guy had to take pictures of that. Here," pulls the deed out of a pocket from the back of his pants.
He signs his name. Big thinker signs as well.
"Here you go," gives Peter a bead necklace, "you have one week to be out of my property."
"That seems fair. By the way, these beads are so pretty; where do you get them?"
"They're a dozen for a dollar at the Indian store."
"Oh."
"Excuse me, but I must now plan redecoration," and re-enters the house.
…
Megan suddenly appears and walks with Big Thinker as he makes his way through the house, "So … I've never seen an Indian totem pole before…"
Big Thinker stops, "Okay, firstly: you are ugly as sin. Secondly: that was the poorest attempt at sexual innuendo I have ever heard in my life. You won't be my squaw, you won't be my squat!"
"So, does this mean it's over between us?"
"Let me put this to you as clearly and succinctly as I can: fuck off!" and goes out the back door.
"Hey!" Lois exits from the kitchen, "You can't talk to my daughter like that!" and follows him outside.
"Yes, yes he can! Mom, don't screw this up for me – I think he's playing hard to get," goes out too.
"What's all the ruckus about?"
"I just got out of the bathroom, but I think Big Thinker insulted Meg," says Brian as they head toward the back door.
"Really? Was it a good one?"
"Peter!" in a corrective tone.
"I mean … damn him! But if it's funny, I'm gonna need to hear it. To decide his fate, you know."
They both exit the house.
…
Stewie hears yells from the backyard and runs over toi his toy chest in front of the window; he climbs it and looks out. He sees the top of Lois' head and jumps off running back to the laptop, "Rupert! The time is now!" he types in the coordinates.
The little paper clip talks, "The satellite will be repositioned in approximately 10 minutes."
"Finally, after years of oppression, that thing I have to call 'mommy' will parish. I can't decide – should I just set her remains on fire or should I have it stuffed and mounted as a testament to my victory?"
…
"This is totally unacceptable! I'm going to call the school first thing Monday morning and tell them to get you someplace else to live," says Lois.
Big Thinker laughs, "Good luck with that."
"Ahhh … Lois…" Peter tries to get her attention.
"And you can take those signs off of the bathroom and Dining Room entrances, and what ever the hell else you got around here."
"Lois…"
"What, Peter? Now's not the time to pull your finger, okay?"
"I kind of sold the house to him."
"You what?!"
"Like you did that one time when you were gambling. I figure we'll just call it even."
Lois replies, "I ….. damnit."
"All right! I won one! Did you hear that, Brian? I won one!"
"Even retarded people get lucky."
"Your husband is right and I was kind enough to give one week's notice, but now I must insist you all leave by nightfall. Especially Meg."
"I changed my mind. Can I have the house back?" asks Peter, with absolute dumbfounded sincerity.
"HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!" Big Thinker laughs maniacally.
"What about if you should die? Can we have it back then?"
"Fine, what ever," whips out the deed and writes out, "in the events I, Big Thinker, should die a natural death-"
"Damnit," Peter looks down with a fist.
Big Thinker continues, "Ownership of the house reverts to the original deed signer."
The wind picks up and a humming sound fills the air.
"Soon all my brethren who are here in exchange will acquire deeds to houses and slowly we will take back the land homestead by homestead!"
TAWOOOMMM! Thunder echoes in the distance.
Stewie's computer beeps; a compute generated picture of the satellite hitting the center of the crosshairs coordinates, flashes red.
"Watch! Watch! Oh, this might be a Kodak moment," Stewie scurries off to get a camera.
"What as I dance in triumph," Big thinker lifts his feet up and down and shakes his arms about, the tassels shifting in the increasing wind; it starts raining, "Look at me dance. This is the dance of retro reparations!" Big Thinker yells.
"Funny, it looks like a retarded kid trying to do the hockey pokey," comments Peter.
Lightening strikes; the power goes out.
…
…
Cut to Joe's bedroom. A sock is hanging out of his fly.
"Ah, damnit! NOT NOW!" he says with rage and slams his fists on the hand mounts of the wheelchair.
…
Chris exits the tent, "What's going on?"
"Have you found your spirit guide yet?" asks Big Thinker.
"No."
Big Thinker replies, "You're hallucinating. Get back in your tent."
"Okay Mr. Hallucination."
"I'm calling the police," says Lois.
"See, Mr. Griffin? It looks as though my non-existent god is smiling down upon me; brining me shelter and watering my corn. Let's see what else he has to give!"
Big Thinker. Dances widely, up and down and throws his hands in the air, looking at the sky.
TSUM! Lightening strikes him. Smokes rises off his body. TSUM! Again it hits him and he falls over dead.
"Gee, I don't think you're god likes you very much. Huh – I was right – he was trying to kill you. I'll take that," and pulls the deed from Big Thinker's back pocket.
…
"Any second now…" says Stewie with anticipation.
IGT! The computer beeps.
"Connection list. Satellite access codes changed," says the paper clip.
"BLAST! She has more lives then a cat! Oh well, next time. And there will be a next time."
…
"Oh my god, what do we do?" asks Lois, looking at Big Thinker.
"I tell you what we do, we call freakin' Ripley's! Lightening struck twice in the same spot!" says Peter.
"What's wrong with you people?! He needs CPR!" and Megan repeatedly gives him CPR; the skin on his lips melting onto her own. She bangs his chest furiously and starts CPR again.
Lois bends down and pulls Megan away – melted lip skin hanging off her mouth like hot cheese, "Meg, stop giving CPR to the dead body."
"Excuse me, I'm gonna have a drink," and Brian walks into the house.
Chris says from inside the tent, "Frank Stallone?"
