A week went by, and Meg was carrying a large suitcase full of her belongings. The suitcase was heavy and Meg didn't have a lot of upper-body strength, a curse really, so it took her a while to carry it from her room to Brian's car.

"I wonder what's taking Meg..." he thought sitting in his car ready to drive. "If we don't get on the road soon, we may not make Providence in time." Meg then walked out slowly carrying the suitcase with both hands. Brian immediately leapt out of the car, and ran over to help her because it looked like she was going to drop it.

After helping her regain her balance, Brian inquired, "My God, Meg, did you pack everything in the house?"

"Oh, it's not that much..." Meg had the tendency to pack a little bit too much on trips like this. "Did you find a suitable hotel?"

"Yeah," I mentioned, carrying Meg's suitcase for her, all while straining with her heavy bag, "I managed to find a room at the Barrington in Providence that's affordable. After all, I got lots of residuals after that critic from Rolling Stone called 'Faster than the Speed of Love' the best romance novel he had read since Twilight."

"Um...," Meg said just before taking a brief pause, "I don't know if that's exactly a compliment."

"Oh." They just stood there for about five seconds, then walked into the car and changed the subject. Brian was driving and Meg took the front passenger seat. "You know, I just want to say I'm really proud of you, you know, for this accomplishment."

"Thanks again. You know... I really feel like my life is going in a different direction. One day, I am getting fart in my face by a jerk-off excuse for a father, and the next, a gifted, noble artist with a large community of fans who adore me. I feel as great as Miley Cyrus..." a brief awkward pause befell the car, "well, you know, before she went all insane."

Brian just gasped, "Oh." Brian started up the car, but then he was interrupted a loud, slurring voice coming from inside the Griffin house. It was Peter, drunk as a sailor.

"Hey, Brian..." he said in the house.

"Oh my God!" Meg said worriedly, "he'll see me the car, and he'll just resent me and say my art sucks. I don't want to bring myself down off this high. What should I do?"

"Okay, don't panic. Don't panic." Brian had to think quickly, "uh, here. Duck down under the dashboard." Meg crammed herself into the footrest until Peter couldn't see her, even from the front step. It was cramped; Meg had tried to lose some weight, but was slacking off recently. Damn, I really wish I wasn't cheating on my diet, she thought.

Peter opened up the front door and yelled at Brian. He was dressed in nothing but a housecoat and had a half-empty beer bottle in his hand.

"Brian... Bri-dog, Bri-o, Bri-o-rama, Bri-you-gotta-be-so-mean," that last one was a stretch because he had just listened to "Mean" by Taylor Swift while being drunk. Don't ask.

"Uh, w-w-what?" Brian was stuttering a bit, he thought the jig was up.

"Where the hell... do you think...," Peter was slurring his words, swaying and brief pausing during his sentences because he was so wasted, "...you are going?"

"I am going to a writers' conference... in Warwick... for a few days." Brian wasn't good at telling lies.

"Writers' conference?" Peter somewhat suspected that Brian was up to something despite him being so drunk. "Hey... wa–wait just a minute there, bub... Are you, a-a-a-are you telling me... the-the-the-the truth?"

"Uh...yes?"

"Oh excellent." Peter then turned around walked back in. Brian briefly saw Peter's ass as he turned around. It was not a pretty sight. "H-h-h-hey, Lois! Brian's going to kill himself."

"Kill," Lois laughed in background, "that's a funny word..." turned out she was even drunker that her husband was at that point.

Brian then breathed a sigh of relief, as Meg came up from the footrest of the car. Her face, toque and clothes covered with the filth and dirt and grime.

"Whoa, man, that was a close one." Meg said then.

"Yeah..." after a brief pause, Brian added as he started up the car, "I've never seen Peter that drunk of his ass before."

As they were pulling out of the driveway, Meg replied back, "Oh, ha-ha! Good sir, I beg to differ. Remember that summer party with the bouncy house when I was eight."

"Oh yeah, right..."

"I tell you, lots of angry letters from parents that day..." it was that time that they pulled out into Spooner Street and started to head off to Providence.