Stan gently stroked his gun, waiting for his wife to come home.

"Soon, my friend, you will get to have your fun," he said in a sweet voice. "And don't worry, I'll protect you from Obama afterwards..."

It was then when the door opened. In walked Francine, wearing bowling shoes.

"Stan, did you know that I have no idea how bowling works?" she said, an exasperated expression on her face. "Because I found that out the hard way tonight."

"THAT'S WHERE YOU WERE?!" roared Stan, losing his cool immediately. "I'VE BEEN HUNTING EVERYWHERE FOR YOU!"

"You've only been looking around the house," said Klaus.

"SHUT UP, FISH!" yelled Stan. He then took a deep breath. "Hey, Francine, could you pretend I didn't explode like that? Because I think this would be much more menacing if I remained calm the entire time like that Spanish assassin in No Country For Old Men."

"What are you talking about?" said Francine, taking off her bowling shoes and rubbing her feet. She then looked around. "Where's Steve? He said something about having his semi-annual election night chess tournament with himself tonight."

"Oh, he..." went Stan, trying to come up with a cool way to tell his wife that he had murdered their only son. "He...drank soda past 6, but it put him to sleep instead of...keeping him awake?"

"Huh?" went Francine.

"You're right, that was terrible," said Stan, looking down with shame.

"Where's Roger?" said Francine, looking around. "Didn't he say was going to try finding out if his pee would freeze internally if he put himself in the freezer with a full bladder?"

"Let's just say there are no longer 50 shades of grey in world," said Stan. "There are 49. Because...you know...Roger was grey."

"Huh?" went Francine.

"Dammit! That sounded so good when I said it in my head, but when I said it outloud, I just...you know what? Forget it."

"Where's Jeff?" asked Francine. "Isn't he supposed to be guarding the fridge to make sure Roger doesn't change his mind and try to escape from the freezer?"

"Jeez. Was everyone supposed to be in the kitchen tonight?" said Stan. "Anyway, something was finally put in his mouth that even he couldn't handle. And no, I'm not talking about a penis, because we both know one's probably been in there by now..."

"Stan...you're acting weird...where's Hayley?"

"She forgot to flush," said Stan, folding his arms. "Hey...that one was actually pretty good. It would be quite witty, in fact, if you knew the context in which I was saying it...which you don't..."

"Huh?" went Francine.

"I KILLED THEM ALL, FRANCINE!" yelled Stan, jumping on the table. "I HAD NO CHOICE! THEY WERE GETTING IN THE WAY OF MY MAIN GOAL, WHICH WAS KILLING YOU!"

Francine looked at her husband, eyes wide.

"You...you what?"

"ARE YOU DEAF NOW?" roared Stan. "I JUST TOLD YOU THAT I...you know what? I'm sorry to do this, but could you again pretend I didn't explode here? Because I think this would be much cooler if I remained cool the whole time like..."

But he was silenced by a fierce slap in the face from his wife.

"YOU...MONSTER!" yelled Francine. "KILLING MY BABIES! KILLING MY SON-IN-LAW! KILLING...ROGER WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!"

"Now, now, Francine," went Stan, rubbing his cheek and backing away. "This isn't my fault. It's actually your's. You left me no choice when you voted for Obama..."

"I...WHAT?!" screamed Francine.

"You voted for Obama and killed America!" yelled Stan. "Don't you know that man is going to send all our babies back into their mothers' wombs just so he can abort them?! That he's going to dig up Charlton Heston's grave just so he can pry his gun from his cold, dead hands?! That he's going to use the constitution as toilet paper, but not to wipe his ass, Francine, but to masturbate into!"

"Stan...I flipped a coin...it was either him or Romney and I couldn't make up my mind! You know I don't follow politics. Hell, I keep confusing Obama with Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson!"

"You know...he does actually look like him," said Stan. "Maybe he could play Obama in the biopic...about a man who was born in Kenya, brought to America under an elaborate conspiracy set up by the Soviet Union, turned into a communist by his America-hating father, raisied among black kids by his white kid-hating white mother, faked his birth certificate and eventually tricked the United States into voting him into office twice just so he could destroy the country. Of course, knowing liberal Hollywood, they'll probably add a lot of fictional stuff to make it hard to believe..."

"ENOUGH!" yelled Francine, pulling out a kitchen knife. "I KILLED MY CELLMATE WHILE IN PRISON, SO I CAN KILL AGAIN! YOU MURDERED MY FAMILY SO NOW I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU!"

"Francine, that's not how this was supposed to work!" cried Stan. "I was supposed to kill you!"

He then looked in his hand, suddenly remembering that he was still holding his gun.

"And I still will," said Stan, pointing his pistol at his wife.

But it wasn't enough. Francine kicked the gun out of Stan's hand, then threw a punch to his face. Stan attempted to throw a punch back at Francine, but she was too quick for him and ducked out of the way. Like lightning she began swinging her blade at his throat.

"Francine, be reasonable!" Stan pleaded as he hid behind a kitchen chair, which his wife promptly sliced in two. "You're the one who deserves to die here, not me!"

Francine responded to this by giving Stan a swift kick in the balls. In pain from the blow, he collapsed to the floor...where his gun was waiting for him.

Weakly, he picked up the gun and began shooting bullets at Francine, but the intense pain in his testicles affected his focus, and she was easily able to do a bunch of backflips in order to avoid his blows.

Then Stan had an idea. He pointed his gun upwards and fired several shots that filled the ceiling with holes, then, using the little strength he had, crawled under the table. There was a lot cracking sound, and before Francine could react, the ceiling at fallen on top of her.

Victorious, Stan climbed out from under the table and pointed his gun directly at his wife's head.

"Any last words, you destroyer of the free world?" he asked her, an obnoxious smirk on his face.

"Stan...please...I'm your wife...you don't have to do this," she begged. "Besides...you'll never get away with this!"

"Oh, won't I?" said Stan. "And who's going to tell on me? I've killed everyone here, Francine! There's no one left to stop me!"

BLAM!

Stan looked down in shock, blood splurting from his chest. He fell to the door, dead.

"That's the last time you forget about me, you sick, conservative fuck!" yelled Klaus, holding a smoking pistol.

"Klaus," went Francine, catching her breath. "You're alive?"

"Of coursed I'm alive!" the fish shouted. "I even had a line in this chapter! Why does everyone forget I exist?!"

"Well, you saved my life, so you're not going to be forgotten by me," said Francine. "Tell me what you want in return, and I'll do it. Anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"Well, in that case," said Klaus, with a very dirty look on his face, "I want for you...TO EAT ME!"

"Very well," said Francine, looking confused. "If you're sure that's what you want..."

"Oh, it is!" yelled Klaus, drooling. "It's what I've ALWAYS wanted!"

Shrugging, Francine picked up Klaus by the tail and put him in her mouth.

"NEIN!" screamed Klaus. "THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT!" But his screams went unheard as he went down her throat, never to be seen again.