Family Guy s03e05 Episode Script

And the Wiener is...

"It seems today that all you see "Is violence in movies and sex on TV "But where are those|good old-fashioned values "On which we used to rely? "Lucky there's a family guy "Lucky there's a man who positively|can do all the things that make us "Laugh and cry "He's a family guy Look, I'm that pretty dark-haired|figure skater with the horse teeth, the one who got what she had coming.
Nice figure eight, Mom.
Ha! All right! OK, Bonnie.
One, two, three, push! (yelling) Oh! Ah! Whoa! My God! I can walk! It's a mira! - Sorry, Dad.
|- Just get the chair.
Good shot.
|Made my brown eye blue with that one.
- Yeah.
Next one's coming for your head!|- Oh, no! No, help! Oh, help! - What the hell?|- Now is the winter of your discontent! You wanna race? On your mark, get set, go! First to where|that Pakistani girl fell through the ice after coming to the States|for her severely burned face she got when the man she refused to marry|dumped sulphuric acid on her, wins.
I win! Yes! Yes! In your face! In your face! In my face! In my face! Ahh! No! Acid girl! It's acid girl! Ahh! - James Woods High! Whoo!|- Hey, guys.
- What do you want?|- I'm trying out for cheerleading.
Peter Rabbit would be wise|to stay out of Mr McGregor's garden.
Why don't you try the flag girls squad? Are you trying out for flag girl? (unintelligible) Yes! I win again, Andy.
(English accent) One more before|the missus notices I'm not on the couch.
Too late! Hey, careful, Quagmire.
|Don't get too close to that thing.
Did I just get laid? - Nice game, Peter.
|- I'm on a roll.
- I whipped Chris on the ice today.
|- Enjoy it while it lasts.
It's only a matter of time|before he beats you.
What? I'm better than him at everything:|Sports, video games, even magic tricks.
- Ha-ha.
Got your nose.
|- Oh, yeah? Well, I got your face.
(screaming) Calm down, Chris.
It's only a trick.
Face it, sooner or later|you'll have to pass the torch.
I remember the first time|Kevin beat me.
I was so proud, I gave him a little congratulatory|punch in the arm.
Then another.
Then everything got hazy.
Kevin went|to live with a foster family for a while - It's inevitable.
|- Don't feel bad.
I think I know why your son beat you.
Apparently, you're|a 12-year-old prepubescent girl.
Which is good, cos I finally have someone|to give this training bra to.
Here, Josephina.
Does it feel good|on your new budding bosoms? - (high voice) It sure does|- Get the hell off me! Rudolph, we figured out|what makes your nose red.
- Is it pixie dust or leprechaun tails?|- No, it's a tumour.
You mean like|a magical Christmas tumour? No, a malignant tumour, the base of which|is lodged deep within your brain.
- Oh.
Like a happy special|- You're going to die.
Hey, everybody, guess what I am.
The end result of a drunken backseat|gropefest and a broken prophylactic? - I'm on the flag girl squad!|- Oh, honey, congratulations.
- Hey, Chris.
I bet you can't do this.
|- I bet I can! We perform at all the football games.
|I'm practically a cheerleader! That's wonderful.
Isn't that wonderful? Way to go, Stewie.
Chris, I'll see|your fork and raise you a gravy ladle.
You're on! So, you're a flag girl.
That's great, Meg.
Yes, yes.
Now you can be somewhere else|when the boys don't call.
- All right.
Salt shaker up the nose.
|- I got pepper.
(sneezes) Ha-ha! Yes! I win! - That was fun, Dad!|- I'm the man! Yeah! Ahh! Lois, go get the medical dictionary|and look up "fork" and "lung.
" - Why?|- Time's a factor, Lois.
Say, Meg, looking sharp.
|You want to go out after the game tonight? Neil, I'm a flag girl now.
|I'm way too cool to be seen with you.
Really? Not even|if I smoke this corncob pipe? Are we all ready to cheer|at the game tonight? "We?" Oh, you made flag girl, huh? Yeah.
This morning my mom|was, like, "Don't forget your lunch", and I'm all "I'm a flag girl now,|I won't forget my lunch", and she's all|"Don't forget your halftime routine.
" Moms! Hey, maybe we could all,|like, hang out after the game.
Go, team! Uncool people are like animals.
You want to go feed|the science club after school? Look at me.
Look at me, I'm smoking.
|Dog, dog, look, look Alcohol doesn't really make you warmer.
|It constricts the blood vessels - Shut up.
|- The dog just told me to shut up.
I demand to know|what you plan to do about this.
Hey! - Hey! The dog just told me|- Be quiet, Stewie.
- Freezing my nips off out here.
|- Oh, look, there's Meg.
Meg! Meg! Meg! - Hi, Meg.
|- Hi, Meg.
Here we go.
(" marching band) - Isn't she beautiful?|- Yeah, but I think she's with that guy.
- They've held hands all night.
|- I mean Meg.
Oh.
Oh, yeah.
Yeah, she's hot.
- Oh! This meat stinks something fierce!|- This'll knock her down a couple notches.
(audience gasping) (laughing) Yea, Meg! Oh, man, I love how|these kids celebrate these days! What do you got? What do you got?|Huh? Huh? Come on.
- Come on, ref.
That's charging.
|- Your feet were moving.
No foul.
No foul?! Oh, that's a stupid call!|And I know something about stupid calls.
(phone rings) Hello? (Peter) I can't take out the garbage.
I'm at|the office and they're making me stay late.
Caller ID says you're|calling from the kitchen.
- In fact, I can see you.
|- Can you see me now? - No.
|- Now I'm at the office.
Score's tied, next basket wins.
|You might finally beat your old man.
"Old man"? I'm the white Larry Bird.
What do you got?|What do you got? Huh? Come on! - Your mother and I are getting a divorce!|- You are? Yes! Yes! Oh, no, we worked it out.
Yes! Son, you played good,|but your dad is still number one.
- Yeah, I don't think I'll ever beat you.
|- Hey, Chris, what's with your leg? Oh, my God! That's not your leg! (Peter groaning) - What's wrong, honey?|- I'll tell you: I try to make love to you|and you think about Chris.
- Is there something you need to tell me?|- Thanks to you, our son has a huge wang.
- Thanks to me?|- He didn't get it from me.
- What are you talking about?|- I'll show you.
All right, stand back, Lois.
Oh, my.
No wonder he's always slouching.
How did this happen?|I'm supposed to be the man of the house.
- You must be ashamed of me.
|- Oh, Peter.
I care as much about the size of your penis|as you care about the size of my breasts.
Oh, my God! You can't let those awful kids get to you.
They won't.
I'm never|going back to that school again.
- Dad, could you help me with my algebra?|- You're a big man.
You figure it out.
I bet there's a part of you|that wants to be friends with them.
- Maybe.
|- So be nice to them.
Win your enemies over|with unflappable kindness.
- Chris, drink your milk.
It'll make you big.
|- No! No more milk for him.
He's had enough.
Give me that.
Megan, you must try the brisket.
I'll serve it|in the manner to which you're accustomed.
Oh! Come talk to me sometime, sweetheart.
|I know what it takes to be cool.
(speaks lyrics to "Rocket Man", jazz style) (exaggerated inhale) (music starts) (speak-sings lyrics) Oh, yeah.
That's the good stuff.
- Hi, you guys.
|- God, it's her.
- Look, about the other night|- Oh, that was hilarious.
I just wish I'd known ahead of time.
|I would've brought potato salad! You guys want tomorrow's biology test? - Whoa! How'd you get that?|- I spent the night with Mr Burler.
Ah, the sun's up.
|I'm safe for another night.
Thanks, Meg.
- Wow, thanks!|- See ya.
- That was kinda cool.
|- Yeah.
I'm bored.
Wanna go push the janitor,|knowing he can't legally push us back? - Sure!|- OK, cool.
Let's go do it.
Hey, Dad.
Look at these little bananas.
Why, you smug little bastard! Peter! Chris, these are plantains.
|And there's nothing wrong with them.
In fact, a lot of women prefer them|to normal-size bananas, because they're exotic and flavourful|and very, very special.
Sure, all the sorority girls are clamouring|for the plantain section.
Stop with this! You're overreacting to this Chris stuff.
I mean, mine goes inside me|when I stand up.
How do you think I feel? - Is Dad mad at me?|- Oh, of course not, honey.
Go pick out a box of cereal and meet me|at the ten-inches-or-less line.
Items! (gasp) Nice, huh? Huh? Yeah.
You like this? Stop it, Peter.
You're embarrassing me.
|Look, I know you're upset, but - Oh, my God.
Where's Stewie?|- He's around.
Let me out of this|stink-filled corduroy dungeon! - Peter, that's sick!|- It's OK.
He's outside the underwear.
- Enjoy your new car, Mr Griffin.
|- Thanks, Jim.
When you pull that thing into your garage,|does the garage say "Is it in yet?" Don't worry, baby.
I'll be gentle.
Ow.
My pride.
You were right.
I was nice to the cool kids|and they didn't spit on me.
Connie Demico even|invited me to her sweet 16.
Wonderful! What time do we nail|those snot-nosed punks?! Nail them? You told me|to win them over with kindness.
Yes.
Now that they think you're their friend,|it's the perfect time to exact your revenge.
Revenge? I'm like one of those bald eagles|you see on the Discovery Channel: Beautiful to look at,|but mess with one of my chicks and I'll use my razor-sharp talons to rip|your (beep) eyes out! Cookies are done.
- Who wants chocolate-chip?|- I do! But keep talking.
All this stuff about|eye-gouging has gotten me all frisky.
Really.
I've got about half a pack|of Rolaids in my diaper.
I'm glad you want to join|the National Gun Association.
Let me show you around.
|This is our shooting range.
Here we have our locker room|with full shower facilities.
Holy crap! They're all so small! You see, Peter, the way we look at it,|a man's only as big as the gun he carries.
Sign me up, and get me|the biggest freakin' gun you got! - Stewie, you can come out now.
|- Turn off the light.
I'm reading a ghost story.
Pull! Oh, yeah.
|Who's the big man now, huh? - Madonna or Janet Jackson?|- Which Janet? - Velvet Rope.
|- Yeah, that one.
Pull! - What the hell are you doing with that?|- You want to touch it? Go on.
Careful.
We don't want it to get|too excited and go off in your hand.
This is pathetic.
All because|you feel inadequate next to Chris.
Don't be stupid.
I don't need to compete|with my son or his freakishly large penis.
- I'm a freak.
|- Don't despair.
Let's hang a tyre on the end of it|and head on down to the ol' swimming hole.
Connie Demico's house is two storeys.
|If we set up booby traps here, here - How'd you get these blueprints?|- Oh, your mother has her ways.
She has her ways.
- Can I have those blueprints?|- Sure, here you go.
Now I've put together|a little flash bomb to create a diversion.
I used to date|the pyro guy from Whitesnake.
What's Whitesnake? That's the music mommies and daddies|listen to.
Fire in the hole! Some guys from the club|are going hunting tomorrow.
- Count me in.
|- Hunting? - You were gonna play hockey with Chris.
|- Bring him along.
- Oh, no.
It's too dangerous.
|- Lois, Lois.
The National Gun Association is all about|safety, especially when it comes to kids.
Take a look at our new video.
Let's face it, your kids will get|into your guns.
That's a fact.
Gun accidents can be avoided by|introducing your children to guns early.
Hi! I'm Petey the pistol.
|Say, do you ever get Ionely? - Yes.
|- Me, too.
Hold me.
If you squeeze me,|I make bad people go away.
But wait a minute.
|I thought guns were bad.
(narrator) False! Guns are good.
In fact, did you know that Jesus and Moses|used guns to conquer the Romans? So remember: Guns don't kill people,|dangerous minorities do.
See, Lois? They're responsible.
Hey.
Hey, check it out, Chris.
|I can write my name in the snow.
- This is fun, Dad.
|- Son, son, I told you.
Out here in the wilderness,|call me Rooster Cogburn.
I was starting to think|you didn't like me any more.
Shh.
Chris, look! Tracks.
|There must be a deer around here.
- Those are snowmobile tracks.
|- Shh! There he is.
Such grace.
That's the thing|about hunting - you gotta be patient.
(growl) What the hell was that?! (both yelling) Put this in the heating grate|and set it off in five minutes.
I changed my mind.
I won't do it.
- They're my friends now.
|- They pelted you with meat.
Did you forget the neighbour kids|chased you and sprinkled you with fixings? Yes, I did! OK.
Now we're gonna play|Seven Minutes in Heaven, and it's my party, so I want Doug|to go in the closet with Meg.
Have fun.
OK.
Everyone get ready.
|Say hello to the lovers.
(laughter) I don't know who should be|more humiliated, Meg or the pig.
- She's such a dork.
|- I think I feel worse for the pig.
Mom, you were right!|I should have just stuck to the plan! I figured you might get soft on me,|so I hired an old friend to scar them for life.
(doorbell) - Hey there, sweetie.
How old are you?|- 16.
- 18?! You're first.
|- Mom! I like where this is going.
|Giggidy-giggidy-good-goody.
Don't worry, Chris, I'll handle the bear.
|Say hello to Satan for me! It's a boy, Mrs Griffin.
I'm afraid the fever|has affected his motor skills.
He's gonna have to repeat the fourth grade.
Looks like he'll have to repeat|the fourth grade, Mrs Griffin.
The only way to get rid of them|is with this shampoo and a tiny comb.
Congratulations.
|You've passed the fourth grade.
Great.
I gotta leave though.
|I'm going hunting with my son.
Dad, I know what to do!|I saw it on Fox's When Bears Attack! Go away! Go on, get!|Stay tuned for an all-new Ally McBeal! Holy crap! Chris, that was amazing.
|I mean, I just froze up.
But you handled that bear like a real man.
|I'm proud of you, son.
You are? Because I heard|what you said about my huge you know.
Oh.
Oh, you heard that, huh? I was just being stupid.
Take it from me,|that thing you got there is a blessing.
I mean, every guy you see with a big house|or a fancy car or a shiny gold tooth is really just saying|"Don't look at my penis.
" - But you'll never have to worry about that.
|- Thanks, Dad! You're the best.
You know, Dad, I just realised something.
|Your name's Peter.
You're right, it is.
Peter.
(both laughing)