Émission TV: Family Guy - 21x14
{\an8}May I join the Loser's Club?
{\an8}I don't care what yearbook captions you saw, {\an8}we are not yet an organized club.
{\an8}Oh, hells yeah!
{\an8}There's only one reason the lunch lady {\an8}puts the gray oven mitt back on: {\an8}second tray of French bread pizza coming out.
{\an8}Got to move quick if you want to get the one {\an8}with two pepperonis.
Hey!
{\an8}Move.
{\an8}I'll have you know I'm a Stouffer.
{\an8}Where you at, pepperonis?
{\an8}Aha!
I hope your affairs are in order.
{\an8}- Honey?
The deed to the house {\an8}is in the drawer under the phone.
{\an8}Meg, what you did back there, {\an8}boxing out those students, was quite impressive.
{\an8}Really?
{\an8}Have you ever considered trying out {\an8}for the girls basketball team?
{\an8}I've just taken the job as head coach {\an8}in an attempt to build character for my upcoming divorce hearing.
{\an8}I thought you were already divorced.
{\an8}I was.
I'm getting divorced again.
{\an8}Turns out the first bitch {\an8}might've been right about my misogyny.
{\an8}Hey, Stewie, what are you watching?
{\an8}The most glorious website of all time: {\an8}YouTube.
{\an8}I only hope the site doesn't run out of content for me to watch.
{\an8}You know, you should really be careful on YouTube, Stewie.
{\an8}You never know what's gonna pop up next.
{\an8}I mean, there's some wild stuff out there.
{\an8}- Okay, boomer.
I'm not a boomer, I'm Gen X.
{\an8}Brian, you save back issues of Costco magazine.
{\an8}Uh, it's called the Costco Connection, {\an8}and it's how I get good deals on cruises.
{\an8}Yeah, you're not helping yourself here.
{\an8}Let's see. "
Suggested videos for you: {\an8}"'Joe Rogan interviews Boss Baby,' {\an8}'Goodnight Moon: Fact or Hoax?'" {\an8}Whoa, listen to this one, Rupert.
{\an8}"The Truth About Naps."
{\an8}I hate naps, and I love the truth.
On March 7th, 1999, {\an8}a resistance took place at Tree House Day Care {\an8}in Atlanta, Georgia, {\an8}that would expose the truth about nap time forever.
{\an8}Harold "Harry" Brockmeyer, age three, {\an8}refused to nap.
{\an8}He was not tired, as he had slept 16 hours {\an8}the previous evening.
{\an8}In fact, after lunch, {\an8}he made a finger painting that, to this day, {\an8}still hangs on his parents' refrigerator.
{\an8}Well, ho...
ly.
The fact is, {\an8}naps only exist {\an8}for the oppression of young children {\an8}and as a scam to give parents time to themselves.
{\an8}Could it be true?
{\an8}Oh, I must get to the bottom of this, {\an8}like a hard-nosed police detective.
{\an8}Jenkins, I'm taking you off this murder.
{\an8}You're too close to the case.
{\an8}Okay, but what if I could get further away from the case?
{\an8}- What do you mean?
What if I could, like, {\an8}not care who killed that family?
{\an8}Oh.
Well, then you could stay on the case, obviously.
{\an8}- As long as you don't care.
Care about what?
{\an8}The ca-- Uh...
Nice.
{\an8}Get back to work.
Okay, Stewie, time to rest your little head.
Here's your bottle.
Mommy's gonna nap, too.
Sweet dreams.
She's not sleeping.
She's scrolling through old photos of herself.
This is exactly what the video was talking about.
Ugh, look how young I looked.
Oh, my God, now she's retweeting Hoover sponsored content, trying to get a free vacuum.
Oh, and now she's scrolled past a fundraiser for "Women of Iran," not even a "like."
Hey, Quagmire.
What are you doing here?
One of these gals turning 18?
No, Peter.
Believe it or not, I actually care about Adam West High School girls basketball.
I'm a longtime fan of the sport, and I find it relaxing here.
It's never crowded.
Just me and the goth kids who come here to actively ignore the game.
So then I said, "What do you think of my hair now, Dad?"
What did he say?
He said he loved me either way.
Ass.
This could be that championship season.
Finally get that team photo up at Applebee's.
Oh, God, I don't want to get ahead of myself.
I don't care about any of that.
Meg is trying out, and Lois made me come because she says I'm her "dad."
Okay, Griffin, you're up next.
Take a shot.
Yeah, no.
I've seen enough, Griffin.
I guess I was wrong about you.
Hey, Meg, I can see your penis.
She looked.
She did look.
What, are your feet nailed to the ground?
Jump.
Well, okay.
You're on the team.
All right!
I'm gonna go tell all the guys at the brewery, like Rudy's dad.
My daughter made the basketball team.
I heard a lady fart while she was pumping gas this morning.
A lot, a lot to celebrate today.
Come on, where's the energy, ladies?
And that was meant to be an insult.
What happened to the Meg I saw in tryouts?
Our first game is tomorrow, and the whole team is counting on you.
Hey, Meg.
They just let any strange adult in here anytime, huh?
Yeah, well, the gym is not connected to the main campus, so, uh...
But listen, I think I know what your issue is.
You did much better at tryouts, right?
Yeah.
Well, what was different?
My socks?
Wait, no, no.
Still the same.
Your dad was here.
Do you think Dad helps me play better? "
Help" is a more positive word than I would use, but, technically, yeah.
Each time he heckled you, you played well.
I just wanted to prove him wrong.
Well, there's your spinach, Popeye.
Man, am I aging myself.
All right, I'm gonna go to the gym snack bar and buy a Dixie Cup of Diet Pepsi for six bucks.
It all goes to the student council.
Well, it-it sure goes to somebody.
What's up, little guys?
I'm Corey.
And today, I'm gonna teach you how to navigate the dark web and undermine the deep state.
Stewie, it's 3:00.
Shouldn't you be napping?
Done with naps.
My eyes are wide open now, Bri, and they're never closing again.
What's gotten into you?
I've been fed lies, Brian.
Vaccine-laced breast milk and lies.
I recently watched a video on YouTube...
Oh, here we go.
...and it proved naps were just invented by grown-ups so that they can goof-off.
What?
And it doesn't stop there.
BabyTruther1776 explained that my eyes won't stay like this when I cross them.
See?
Slow down, Stewie.
Yes, there are some white lies that parents tell their kids, but that's because it's for their own good.
Yeah, right.
That's probably what Britney Spears' father tells her.
Dad, can I have some cereal?
There is no cereal.
Now, jam in that IUD and go make me some money.
Family Guy: We're on Britney's side now that it's popular.
Here we go, Meg, here we go!
Are you recording this?
I can't.
I dropped my phone down a bleacher slat.
I hope I don't ruin some teenage sexual encounter.
Ow.
The finger I was about to use.
Me!
Me!
Pass it to me.
I'm open.
Hey, Meg, if that pass was HPV, you would've caught it.
Peter, knock it off.
No, no, trust me, Lois.
This works.
Watch.
Hey, Meg, every game you play is a game of "horse" with that face.
Oh, boom goes the Babadook.
See you on SportsCenter Top Ten.
Whoa.
Was that our Meg?
Hey, Meg, this is the closest you're ever gonna get to hard wood.
I can't believe I'm saying this, but, Peter, you're right.
Your insults are making Meg play better.
See?
Told you.
Meg's pronouns are "yick" and "uch."
Nice!
Oh, this feels wrong, but I don't know if I've ever seen Meg succeed at anything like this before.
Lord, forgive me.
Peter, Meg's nipples are different sizes.
Get her.
Wow, what a game!
Unbelievable.
Just unbelievable!
It feels so good knowing I gave birth to a star athlete.
Like...
like really good.
Is this happening?
Is what happening?
First one to the bedroom gets to be on the bottom.
Stewie, honey, don't come upstairs for a bit.
{\an8}The floor is lava again.
Wow, thank you, Lois.
Rupert!
Another lie.
That's not deadly lava.
What?
I didn't trip.
You jumped.
Oh, suddenly the guy who smokes two packs a day wants to live forever.
And now to confront the deceivers.
Stewie, I don't think you should go in there.
Stewie, no!
I'm David Hyde Pierce.
I'm two layers down, but I'm in there.
In front of a startling 12% capacity crowd, the Adam West High Name Pending Open Administrative Hearing October Fourths find themselves up big at the half.
Oh, suddenly "The Fighty Whities" is offensive?
Take off the sweatshirt.
Hey, Meg, you play like Kobe...
beef.
Jiminy Christma-- What the hell?
Uh-oh, Peter.
Maybe you'd better take a break from yelling for a bit.
Nah, it's fine.
Don't throw it to Griffin.
She su...
Oh, no, Peter lost his voice at just the worst time.
Butt scratcher!
Butt scratcher here!
Verbal confirmation only!
Two for a dollar, but only if you holler!
Butt scratcher!
Stewie?
Buddy?
Haven't seen you in a while.
How you feeling after the, uh, you know, incident?
I have no idea to what you're referring.
You mean you don't remember?
Leave Stewie alone.
He's a good boy.
Cute.
But, come on, Stewie.
You want to talk about it?
Stewie's not here right now.
I'm Mrs.
Padberry-Wilkerson.
And I'm Boone.
I'd be happy to talk about seeing Pappy all up in Mama's guts.
You know, sometimes you just got to smash.
It's not polite to talk like that in front of Stewie.
He's just a wee child. "
In front of Stewie"?
You are Stewie.
Stewie's a tough sum'bitch.
He can handle it.
Could what you saw in Peter and Lois's bedroom have been that traumatizing?
Kermit the Frog here to smooth over some confusing images with rainbows.
Stewie, I think your psyche fractured into multiple personalities.
I don't have time for this.
I got to go.
Who are you?
I'm the Jase-Man.
I give purple nurples.
Oh, hey, Stewie.
Why are you putting on a San Jose Sharks hat and pulling up my shirt?
Ow, my nipple!
Damn it, I hate the Jase-Man!
Well, he lost his voice, Dr.
Hartman.
He's just been screaming at girls basketball games, and...
I'm gonna microwave my lunch right now, but I just want you to know I'm totally listening.
Yeah, so, anyway, my husband lost his voice, and...
Sorry, what do you think?
20 seconds?
A minute?
It's half a calzone.
30 seconds, then check it.
Are you gonna help us?
He's barely been able to speak.
He needs to rest his voice.
He absolutely must not talk for at least a week.
If he tries to speak too soon, he could damage his vocal cords and lose his voice forever.
Oh, my God.
What is it?
Is he trying to say something?
No, he just wanted to show me he drew a Garfield.
That's a very good Garfield, Peter.
Ugh, not even close.
All right, I'm checking to see if WebMD can help us, Stewie.
Okay, here it is. "
Multiple personality disorder, see also, 'Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.'" Sounds like this Stewie mope is gonna have a heart attack.
Okay, it says here that the first thing I need to do is talk to the dominant personality.
Is that Mrs.
Padberry-Wilkerson?
One moment, I think you want Rick.
Hi, I'm Rick.
Hey, Rick.
Ow!
What the hell, Stewie?
It's Rick.
I'm just your average guy who likes to beat up dogs 'cause it makes me feel in control when my wife and three daughters emasculate me.
Stop!
Wait!
I want Mrs.
Padberry-Wilkerson back!
Sorry, Mrs.
Padberry-Wilkerson is in the loo.
Ah!
Bring back that Southern guy.
Sorry, I'm busy watching Mrs.
Padberry-Wilkerson use the john.
Ah!
Can I talk to someone else?
Literally anyone?
I'm Gilbert Gottfried, and I was fired by Aflac for no reason.
Well, there-there was some reason.
I can't believe Peter's lost his voice.
How's he gonna insult Meg now?
Well, I don't know if it's gonna work, but he brought a whiteboard.
Meg's got the ball.
Peter, quick, write something mean. "
You're doing to this game what R.
Kelly did to all tho..."
Yeah, no, no, I'm not saying the rest of that.
Peter, you're too slow.
Let me try to give her the business.
Uh, Meg, honey, you used to walk pigeon-toed but got better with the right shoes!
{\an8}Well, that'll do it {\an8}from the Adam West High Gymnasium, {\an8}where the home team goes down in a nine-seven slugfest.
We're so sorry, honey.
Yeah, but it turns out our team is still advancing to the championship game.
Really?
Yeah.
The other team was disqualified from the league.
I guess one of them was Gilbert Gottfried.
I have to do something.
Y'all mind if I record this for teaching purposes or whatever?
Sure.
Now, Mrs.
Padberry-Wilkerson, can you tell me about Stewie's "problem"?
Well, it's not something a proper lady is used to talking about, but I believe it was something he saw.
What's the big deal?
It's just sex.
Mrs.
Padberry-Winkie-Woo is just a prude who's never gotten enough "vitamin D," if you know what I mean.
Excuse me.
I will have you know I am a tigress in the bedroom.
This is ridiculous.
Shh.
I find the best thing to do with multiple personalities is to summon them all and let them work out they differences.
Oh, is that so, Miss Tigress?
Quite right.
How's about you hoist off them BVDs, and I do you on a front yard couch?
Why, Mr.
Boone, you're terrible.
Don't stop.
I ain't gonna.
Enough.
Stewie.
You're losing it because you haven't napped in days.
You're cranky.
You're scared.
Listen, what you saw in Peter and Lois's bedroom is not what you think.
It was just...
Lois looking very closely at the sheets so she could check the thread count.
And Peter was just...
cheering her on from behind.
Really?
That makes sense.
I like that.
Phew.
Ah, I guess I really could use a nap.
Sometimes you just have to trust what your parents tell you.
It's in your best interest.
Yes, maybe you're right.
Determining thread count with the naked eye would take hours.
Your father walked out after 30 seconds, apologizing.
Shut your tea and cake hole, woman.
Let me roll with this lie.
And we've got a tie heading into the final moments of this championship game.
Ugh, Meg is really stinking out there.
If only you still had your voice, Peter.
Meg Griffin has the ball, {\an8}drives to the hoop, and she's fouled by {\an8}Exasperated Mouthguard Mary.
Come on, that's a charge!
Meg Griffin will go to the line with two chances to win this game for Adam West High.
Come on, you can do this.
Everyone who's not looking at their phone is counting on you.
Oh, a wide miss.
Come on, Meg.
This is for immortality on the Applebee's wall, right between the vintage trumpet and the rusty stop sign.
Time-out.
{\an8}And Meg Griffin is going up into the stands.
{\an8}Toddlers are roaming free on the court.
Nothing seems to matter.
Dad, you have insulted me every day of my entire life, and now, the one moment when I need it, you've got nothing?
Well, guess what, you tubby piece of crap.
I don't need you.
I'm gonna hit this shot without your help, and when I do, I'm gonna experience more glory than you ever have in your entire empty, pathetic life.
Shut up, Meg.
What did you say?
Shut up, Meg.
Peter, don't.
You could lose your voice forever.
I still can't hear you, you sausage-fingered human hernia.
You listen to your father.
From the bottom of my heart, I wish we'd never had you.
There's my dad.
And Meg Griffin wins it!
That's it for us at Adam West High.
You're now going to hear us run away because we're parked illegally at the bank.
That year, the team had its best season in school history, despite being stuck with a Xanax-addicted head coach.
I'm Felicia Legette-Shepherd, and I won this voice-over in the divorce.
Come on, children.
Grab the dinner mints off the check and let's go.
Woof.
That was an historic season.
Historic.
Excuse me.
I think my steak is overcooked.
This is Applebee's.
It definitely was overcooked.
Applebee's: Drink your blue drink and shut up.
{\an8}I don't care what yearbook captions you saw, {\an8}we are not yet an organized club.
{\an8}Oh, hells yeah!
{\an8}There's only one reason the lunch lady {\an8}puts the gray oven mitt back on: {\an8}second tray of French bread pizza coming out.
{\an8}Got to move quick if you want to get the one {\an8}with two pepperonis.
Hey!
{\an8}Move.
{\an8}I'll have you know I'm a Stouffer.
{\an8}Where you at, pepperonis?
{\an8}Aha!
I hope your affairs are in order.
{\an8}- Honey?
The deed to the house {\an8}is in the drawer under the phone.
{\an8}Meg, what you did back there, {\an8}boxing out those students, was quite impressive.
{\an8}Really?
{\an8}Have you ever considered trying out {\an8}for the girls basketball team?
{\an8}I've just taken the job as head coach {\an8}in an attempt to build character for my upcoming divorce hearing.
{\an8}I thought you were already divorced.
{\an8}I was.
I'm getting divorced again.
{\an8}Turns out the first bitch {\an8}might've been right about my misogyny.
{\an8}Hey, Stewie, what are you watching?
{\an8}The most glorious website of all time: {\an8}YouTube.
{\an8}I only hope the site doesn't run out of content for me to watch.
{\an8}You know, you should really be careful on YouTube, Stewie.
{\an8}You never know what's gonna pop up next.
{\an8}I mean, there's some wild stuff out there.
{\an8}- Okay, boomer.
I'm not a boomer, I'm Gen X.
{\an8}Brian, you save back issues of Costco magazine.
{\an8}Uh, it's called the Costco Connection, {\an8}and it's how I get good deals on cruises.
{\an8}Yeah, you're not helping yourself here.
{\an8}Let's see. "
Suggested videos for you: {\an8}"'Joe Rogan interviews Boss Baby,' {\an8}'Goodnight Moon: Fact or Hoax?'" {\an8}Whoa, listen to this one, Rupert.
{\an8}"The Truth About Naps."
{\an8}I hate naps, and I love the truth.
On March 7th, 1999, {\an8}a resistance took place at Tree House Day Care {\an8}in Atlanta, Georgia, {\an8}that would expose the truth about nap time forever.
{\an8}Harold "Harry" Brockmeyer, age three, {\an8}refused to nap.
{\an8}He was not tired, as he had slept 16 hours {\an8}the previous evening.
{\an8}In fact, after lunch, {\an8}he made a finger painting that, to this day, {\an8}still hangs on his parents' refrigerator.
{\an8}Well, ho...
ly.
The fact is, {\an8}naps only exist {\an8}for the oppression of young children {\an8}and as a scam to give parents time to themselves.
{\an8}Could it be true?
{\an8}Oh, I must get to the bottom of this, {\an8}like a hard-nosed police detective.
{\an8}Jenkins, I'm taking you off this murder.
{\an8}You're too close to the case.
{\an8}Okay, but what if I could get further away from the case?
{\an8}- What do you mean?
What if I could, like, {\an8}not care who killed that family?
{\an8}Oh.
Well, then you could stay on the case, obviously.
{\an8}- As long as you don't care.
Care about what?
{\an8}The ca-- Uh...
Nice.
{\an8}Get back to work.
Okay, Stewie, time to rest your little head.
Here's your bottle.
Mommy's gonna nap, too.
Sweet dreams.
She's not sleeping.
She's scrolling through old photos of herself.
This is exactly what the video was talking about.
Ugh, look how young I looked.
Oh, my God, now she's retweeting Hoover sponsored content, trying to get a free vacuum.
Oh, and now she's scrolled past a fundraiser for "Women of Iran," not even a "like."
Hey, Quagmire.
What are you doing here?
One of these gals turning 18?
No, Peter.
Believe it or not, I actually care about Adam West High School girls basketball.
I'm a longtime fan of the sport, and I find it relaxing here.
It's never crowded.
Just me and the goth kids who come here to actively ignore the game.
So then I said, "What do you think of my hair now, Dad?"
What did he say?
He said he loved me either way.
Ass.
This could be that championship season.
Finally get that team photo up at Applebee's.
Oh, God, I don't want to get ahead of myself.
I don't care about any of that.
Meg is trying out, and Lois made me come because she says I'm her "dad."
Okay, Griffin, you're up next.
Take a shot.
Yeah, no.
I've seen enough, Griffin.
I guess I was wrong about you.
Hey, Meg, I can see your penis.
She looked.
She did look.
What, are your feet nailed to the ground?
Jump.
Well, okay.
You're on the team.
All right!
I'm gonna go tell all the guys at the brewery, like Rudy's dad.
My daughter made the basketball team.
I heard a lady fart while she was pumping gas this morning.
A lot, a lot to celebrate today.
Come on, where's the energy, ladies?
And that was meant to be an insult.
What happened to the Meg I saw in tryouts?
Our first game is tomorrow, and the whole team is counting on you.
Hey, Meg.
They just let any strange adult in here anytime, huh?
Yeah, well, the gym is not connected to the main campus, so, uh...
But listen, I think I know what your issue is.
You did much better at tryouts, right?
Yeah.
Well, what was different?
My socks?
Wait, no, no.
Still the same.
Your dad was here.
Do you think Dad helps me play better? "
Help" is a more positive word than I would use, but, technically, yeah.
Each time he heckled you, you played well.
I just wanted to prove him wrong.
Well, there's your spinach, Popeye.
Man, am I aging myself.
All right, I'm gonna go to the gym snack bar and buy a Dixie Cup of Diet Pepsi for six bucks.
It all goes to the student council.
Well, it-it sure goes to somebody.
What's up, little guys?
I'm Corey.
And today, I'm gonna teach you how to navigate the dark web and undermine the deep state.
Stewie, it's 3:00.
Shouldn't you be napping?
Done with naps.
My eyes are wide open now, Bri, and they're never closing again.
What's gotten into you?
I've been fed lies, Brian.
Vaccine-laced breast milk and lies.
I recently watched a video on YouTube...
Oh, here we go.
...and it proved naps were just invented by grown-ups so that they can goof-off.
What?
And it doesn't stop there.
BabyTruther1776 explained that my eyes won't stay like this when I cross them.
See?
Slow down, Stewie.
Yes, there are some white lies that parents tell their kids, but that's because it's for their own good.
Yeah, right.
That's probably what Britney Spears' father tells her.
Dad, can I have some cereal?
There is no cereal.
Now, jam in that IUD and go make me some money.
Family Guy: We're on Britney's side now that it's popular.
Here we go, Meg, here we go!
Are you recording this?
I can't.
I dropped my phone down a bleacher slat.
I hope I don't ruin some teenage sexual encounter.
Ow.
The finger I was about to use.
Me!
Me!
Pass it to me.
I'm open.
Hey, Meg, if that pass was HPV, you would've caught it.
Peter, knock it off.
No, no, trust me, Lois.
This works.
Watch.
Hey, Meg, every game you play is a game of "horse" with that face.
Oh, boom goes the Babadook.
See you on SportsCenter Top Ten.
Whoa.
Was that our Meg?
Hey, Meg, this is the closest you're ever gonna get to hard wood.
I can't believe I'm saying this, but, Peter, you're right.
Your insults are making Meg play better.
See?
Told you.
Meg's pronouns are "yick" and "uch."
Nice!
Oh, this feels wrong, but I don't know if I've ever seen Meg succeed at anything like this before.
Lord, forgive me.
Peter, Meg's nipples are different sizes.
Get her.
Wow, what a game!
Unbelievable.
Just unbelievable!
It feels so good knowing I gave birth to a star athlete.
Like...
like really good.
Is this happening?
Is what happening?
First one to the bedroom gets to be on the bottom.
Stewie, honey, don't come upstairs for a bit.
{\an8}The floor is lava again.
Wow, thank you, Lois.
Rupert!
Another lie.
That's not deadly lava.
What?
I didn't trip.
You jumped.
Oh, suddenly the guy who smokes two packs a day wants to live forever.
And now to confront the deceivers.
Stewie, I don't think you should go in there.
Stewie, no!
I'm David Hyde Pierce.
I'm two layers down, but I'm in there.
In front of a startling 12% capacity crowd, the Adam West High Name Pending Open Administrative Hearing October Fourths find themselves up big at the half.
Oh, suddenly "The Fighty Whities" is offensive?
Take off the sweatshirt.
Hey, Meg, you play like Kobe...
beef.
Jiminy Christma-- What the hell?
Uh-oh, Peter.
Maybe you'd better take a break from yelling for a bit.
Nah, it's fine.
Don't throw it to Griffin.
She su...
Oh, no, Peter lost his voice at just the worst time.
Butt scratcher!
Butt scratcher here!
Verbal confirmation only!
Two for a dollar, but only if you holler!
Butt scratcher!
Stewie?
Buddy?
Haven't seen you in a while.
How you feeling after the, uh, you know, incident?
I have no idea to what you're referring.
You mean you don't remember?
Leave Stewie alone.
He's a good boy.
Cute.
But, come on, Stewie.
You want to talk about it?
Stewie's not here right now.
I'm Mrs.
Padberry-Wilkerson.
And I'm Boone.
I'd be happy to talk about seeing Pappy all up in Mama's guts.
You know, sometimes you just got to smash.
It's not polite to talk like that in front of Stewie.
He's just a wee child. "
In front of Stewie"?
You are Stewie.
Stewie's a tough sum'bitch.
He can handle it.
Could what you saw in Peter and Lois's bedroom have been that traumatizing?
Kermit the Frog here to smooth over some confusing images with rainbows.
Stewie, I think your psyche fractured into multiple personalities.
I don't have time for this.
I got to go.
Who are you?
I'm the Jase-Man.
I give purple nurples.
Oh, hey, Stewie.
Why are you putting on a San Jose Sharks hat and pulling up my shirt?
Ow, my nipple!
Damn it, I hate the Jase-Man!
Well, he lost his voice, Dr.
Hartman.
He's just been screaming at girls basketball games, and...
I'm gonna microwave my lunch right now, but I just want you to know I'm totally listening.
Yeah, so, anyway, my husband lost his voice, and...
Sorry, what do you think?
20 seconds?
A minute?
It's half a calzone.
30 seconds, then check it.
Are you gonna help us?
He's barely been able to speak.
He needs to rest his voice.
He absolutely must not talk for at least a week.
If he tries to speak too soon, he could damage his vocal cords and lose his voice forever.
Oh, my God.
What is it?
Is he trying to say something?
No, he just wanted to show me he drew a Garfield.
That's a very good Garfield, Peter.
Ugh, not even close.
All right, I'm checking to see if WebMD can help us, Stewie.
Okay, here it is. "
Multiple personality disorder, see also, 'Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.'" Sounds like this Stewie mope is gonna have a heart attack.
Okay, it says here that the first thing I need to do is talk to the dominant personality.
Is that Mrs.
Padberry-Wilkerson?
One moment, I think you want Rick.
Hi, I'm Rick.
Hey, Rick.
Ow!
What the hell, Stewie?
It's Rick.
I'm just your average guy who likes to beat up dogs 'cause it makes me feel in control when my wife and three daughters emasculate me.
Stop!
Wait!
I want Mrs.
Padberry-Wilkerson back!
Sorry, Mrs.
Padberry-Wilkerson is in the loo.
Ah!
Bring back that Southern guy.
Sorry, I'm busy watching Mrs.
Padberry-Wilkerson use the john.
Ah!
Can I talk to someone else?
Literally anyone?
I'm Gilbert Gottfried, and I was fired by Aflac for no reason.
Well, there-there was some reason.
I can't believe Peter's lost his voice.
How's he gonna insult Meg now?
Well, I don't know if it's gonna work, but he brought a whiteboard.
Meg's got the ball.
Peter, quick, write something mean. "
You're doing to this game what R.
Kelly did to all tho..."
Yeah, no, no, I'm not saying the rest of that.
Peter, you're too slow.
Let me try to give her the business.
Uh, Meg, honey, you used to walk pigeon-toed but got better with the right shoes!
{\an8}Well, that'll do it {\an8}from the Adam West High Gymnasium, {\an8}where the home team goes down in a nine-seven slugfest.
We're so sorry, honey.
Yeah, but it turns out our team is still advancing to the championship game.
Really?
Yeah.
The other team was disqualified from the league.
I guess one of them was Gilbert Gottfried.
I have to do something.
Y'all mind if I record this for teaching purposes or whatever?
Sure.
Now, Mrs.
Padberry-Wilkerson, can you tell me about Stewie's "problem"?
Well, it's not something a proper lady is used to talking about, but I believe it was something he saw.
What's the big deal?
It's just sex.
Mrs.
Padberry-Winkie-Woo is just a prude who's never gotten enough "vitamin D," if you know what I mean.
Excuse me.
I will have you know I am a tigress in the bedroom.
This is ridiculous.
Shh.
I find the best thing to do with multiple personalities is to summon them all and let them work out they differences.
Oh, is that so, Miss Tigress?
Quite right.
How's about you hoist off them BVDs, and I do you on a front yard couch?
Why, Mr.
Boone, you're terrible.
Don't stop.
I ain't gonna.
Enough.
Stewie.
You're losing it because you haven't napped in days.
You're cranky.
You're scared.
Listen, what you saw in Peter and Lois's bedroom is not what you think.
It was just...
Lois looking very closely at the sheets so she could check the thread count.
And Peter was just...
cheering her on from behind.
Really?
That makes sense.
I like that.
Phew.
Ah, I guess I really could use a nap.
Sometimes you just have to trust what your parents tell you.
It's in your best interest.
Yes, maybe you're right.
Determining thread count with the naked eye would take hours.
Your father walked out after 30 seconds, apologizing.
Shut your tea and cake hole, woman.
Let me roll with this lie.
And we've got a tie heading into the final moments of this championship game.
Ugh, Meg is really stinking out there.
If only you still had your voice, Peter.
Meg Griffin has the ball, {\an8}drives to the hoop, and she's fouled by {\an8}Exasperated Mouthguard Mary.
Come on, that's a charge!
Meg Griffin will go to the line with two chances to win this game for Adam West High.
Come on, you can do this.
Everyone who's not looking at their phone is counting on you.
Oh, a wide miss.
Come on, Meg.
This is for immortality on the Applebee's wall, right between the vintage trumpet and the rusty stop sign.
Time-out.
{\an8}And Meg Griffin is going up into the stands.
{\an8}Toddlers are roaming free on the court.
Nothing seems to matter.
Dad, you have insulted me every day of my entire life, and now, the one moment when I need it, you've got nothing?
Well, guess what, you tubby piece of crap.
I don't need you.
I'm gonna hit this shot without your help, and when I do, I'm gonna experience more glory than you ever have in your entire empty, pathetic life.
Shut up, Meg.
What did you say?
Shut up, Meg.
Peter, don't.
You could lose your voice forever.
I still can't hear you, you sausage-fingered human hernia.
You listen to your father.
From the bottom of my heart, I wish we'd never had you.
There's my dad.
And Meg Griffin wins it!
That's it for us at Adam West High.
You're now going to hear us run away because we're parked illegally at the bank.
That year, the team had its best season in school history, despite being stuck with a Xanax-addicted head coach.
I'm Felicia Legette-Shepherd, and I won this voice-over in the divorce.
Come on, children.
Grab the dinner mints off the check and let's go.
Woof.
That was an historic season.
Historic.
Excuse me.
I think my steak is overcooked.
This is Applebee's.
It definitely was overcooked.
Applebee's: Drink your blue drink and shut up.