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Ah, boy, do I love
the Fall Festival.

Especially how
everywhere you turn

is the smell of pumpkin spice.

Pumpkin spice.

Sounds like a reject
from a female British pop band.

Quit tossing your scarf
over your shoulder

to punctuate your jokes.

You know what, Peter?

I like me.

Look, "Guess Your Weight."

With a line that long, I'll
guess my own wait: 30 minutes.

Oop, see you in a few.

Got scarfed up.

No. No, no, no.

I don't... I don't
throw in public.

Ugh, and I only fetch.

All right, I'll see
if I can get my money back.

Excuse me?

Oh, cool. I like your tattoo.

Oh, that? Yeah, that's the
Hormone Monstress.

She likes sex
and I like sex, so I figured

I'd permanently disfigure
myself with something

I'd seen on Netflix three times.

You like sex, huh?

You, uh, wouldn't maybe want
to grab dinner sometime?

Nah, but I'll bang you
in the porta-potty

back by the
very loud generators.

The one that smells like all
different pees mixed together?

Um, hell yes.

See ya, Stewie.

Wait, you're just going to

leave me here by myself?

Look at all these
ne'er-do-wells.

When's that guy
gonna do well? Ne'er.

Hello, carnival-goers, and
welcome to "Generation Gap,"

where we learn which of these
parents and kids

know each other best.

How'd you get Dad to agree
to be in this?

I rescued him from
the corn maze, so he owes me.

Oh.

Yeah, he was crying.

Okay, first question:

Parents, what does your child
want to be

when they grow up?

How did you answer,
Team Number One?

Lady NASA scientist.

Okay, weird, and what did
you say, Dad?

Hidden Figures gal?

Judges?

A match.

Team Number Two?

You both said, "Retire after

large personal
injury settlement."

Bravo.

Team Three?

Guy who holds the "Slow" sign
during road construction.

And, Dad, you said...?

Leprechaun.

Ooh, our first wrong answer.

Fat Leprechaun?

Also incorrect.

You may not understand the game.

Next question:

Kids, what would your parent
say is their hobby?

Team Number One?

Refurbishing people's

garage door openers.

That's a match.

It's one button.

You just got to fix one button.

Okay, final question.

Team Three, who is your child's
favorite singer?

The Price is Right yodeler.

What? No. I said Adele.

Judges?

Ugh, this is more humiliating

than my first day working at
that rice pilaf company.

You know, I think we can start
putting pilaf in other things.

Lois, can I see you
in my office for a second?

I told you not to rock
the boat over there.

Oh, there you are, little dude.

Ah, finally back from
the carnival, I see.

Ah, it was amazing.

I got to tell you
all about Amber, amigo.

"Little dude"? "Amigo"?

Brian, have you...
have you forgotten my name?

I don't know, I-I spent
the whole afternoon

drinking ethanol out of a ladle.

It's "Stewie."

Stewie, right.
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

Anyway, Amber is, like,
the perfect girl for me.

How old is she, even?

Well, she's so weathered

that that's a hard number
to peg.

Either 27 or 61.

But the thing is, Stewie,
she's leaving town

with the carnival
in three days, Stewie,

so it's sex-sex-sex and
then "adios," Stewie.

By the way, and, like,
relax about this,

but is abortion
still legal in Rhode Island?

Peter, it was humiliating
having the whole town witness

you and Chris not knowing the
first thing about each other.

I know the first
thing about him.

It was his goopy head squishing
out of you like toothpaste.

Peter, it's important
a boy knows his father.

Now go up to Chris' room
and talk to him.

Hey, Chris, can I talk
to you for a second?

Next door over, Chief.

Roger that.

Yeah, Pop? What's up?

Oh, I'm so sorry.

- Chris?
- Yes?

Phew.

Is there something
you want, Dad?

I don't know.
Your mom sent me up here.

We-we embarrassed her in front
of the town or something.

Ugh, that is so Mom,

always getting mad about
stuff that doesn't even matter.

Oh, my God, tell me about it.

I can't tell you how tired
I am of hearing,

"Peter, don't use my hair dryer
to dry your anus."

Yeah, or

"Chris, stop freezing
bees until they fall asleep

and gluing little leashes
on them."

Totally.

God, I can't believe
you notice this stuff, too.

Oh, you mean like how if a pair
of her underpants goes missing

she can't just let it go
and move on?

Exactly.

Well, sounds like bonding to me.

Looks like somebody worked some
pretty good mom magic.

Huh? Where the hell
are all my underpants?

Okay, place your bets.

Burn or melt?

I'm gonna say
a little bit of melt,

and then a lot
of very quick burn.

Wow, would not have expected
rainbow sparks.

Lot of chemicals
near my baby's foot.

Well, look at you two
getting along.

Now I wonder who made
that happ...

Oh, my God, are you
lighting fires in the house?

Huh. Just what we
guessed you'd say.

Yeah, it was either
gonna be that or,

"I'm Lois. When I don't
hit my step goals,

I spin my arm
around to trick my Fitbit."

Wh-What is that?
Is that supposed to be me?

Oh, I don't know.
Maybe you'll recognize this one.

"I'm Mom. I cry on the toilet

as I circle things in catalogs
I'll never afford."

Ah, damn it.
Look what you guys did.

All right, men, looks like Mom's
got this one under control.

Now back to the station for
spaghetti and a group shower.

Oh, hey, Stewie, perfect timing.

- Amber, come meet Stewie.
- Pass.

Ooh, he's so cute.

I just got to kidnap him,
don't I?

Would you like that?

I stuff you in a duffel bag,

zip it up, we're in Indiana
before you know it?

Charmed.

Isn't she awesome?

You want to come inside, babe?

Nah, I'm just gonna park it here
for a few hours

and watch Fuller House
on my stepson's cracked iPad.

I'm telling you, Stewie, this
thing is all next-level sex.

The rugs in her van are just
filled with crushed Froot Loops.

So, while we're doing it, I can
lean over and lick the crumbs.

I'm familiar with
the temptations

of crushed Froot Loops,
thank you.

Brian, you should know
the Nextdoor app

is on fire right now.

"Have you seen the van?"
"What's with the van?"

"Here's a photo of the van."

"I checked with the police
and we can't get rid of the van

unless we witness
criminal activity."

And then just some
nervous comments

about the Black Amazon driver,
but you get the gist.

Hurry up, gang,
the movie starts soon.

What are we seeing, Mom?

Oh, something I've been
waiting forever for:

Penelope's Struggle
starring Renée Zellweger.

The dramatic, true story

of the first female
carriage driver for the Queen.

That movie sounds terrible.

And, besides, Chris and I had
our hearts set on seeing

the re-release of
You Don't Mess with the Zohan,

now remastered to be 40% louder.

Oh, but, Peter,
you know I always choose

the movie for
family movie night.

It's tradition.

Yeah, but just now I'm realizing
Chris and me are two guys.

And you're only one guy.

So, technically,
we can outvote you.

I'm sorry. Out-outvote me?

But... but what about Meg?

I-I mean, she obviously
gets a vo...

All in on Zohan, bro.

My armpit is smelly

and now you smell like
my smelly armpit.

The whispers in this movie

would be yells in other movies.

Ugh, these are basically steps,

it's the same thing as steps.

You can put all that away, Lois.

Me and Chris just bought
dinner at the grocery store.

The-the grocery store?
W-Without me?

Okay, so everybody gets
four puddings

and their own package
of bologna.

But I spent all day
making lasagna.

Yeah, no, our thing is more fun.

Shall we take a vote?

All in favor say "aye."

- Aye.
- Aye.

The "ayes" have it.

Sorry, Lois, democracy.

Oh, and we're dragging
the TV into the dining room.

What? You know that's
not allowed.

Vote? All in favor say "aye."

- Aye.
- Aye.

"Ayes" have it, sorry.
Kids, dinner.

Dad, can we watch
The White Lotus?

Why not?

I poop in a suitcase,

I'm wrestled
to the ground at LaGuardia.

Gold statue.

Oh, boy.

What? What is it?

Text from Amber:

"We should talk
about where this is going."

Man, what if she wants
to get married?

Ugh, looks like I have
to break things off with her.

Hey, Amber.
Listen, I got your text...

Brian, this here
ain't working out.

We need to break up.

What?
You're breaking up with me?

Whoa. Dumped by a carny. Brutal.

Yeah, I've been thinking.

We don't really
have much in common.

I mean, you don't know
a single Kid Rock lyric

or the names of
any monster trucks.

Monst... I...
Grave Maker, that's one.

Ah! Grave Digger!
You're embarrassing yourself!

Come on, what's this
really about?

Is this because I couldn't
smash that Percocet

into powder fast enough?

Goodbye, Brian.

Wow, buddy, I just want you
to know that I'm...

She's stealing our mail.

She's stealing our mail!

Thanks for meeting me, guys.

This is gonna be

a two-hands-on-the-coffee-cup
conversation.

All right. Time to get
some work done.

Don't mind me.

This is screenwriting software.

You've probably
never seen it before.

You guys, I don't know
what to do.

I-I told Peter to bond
with Chris, and he did,

but now, well,
it's like they've stolen

all the power in the family.

Oh, no, no, no.

For a mother to remain
in control of her family,

she needs to make sure
there are no alliances

she's not a part of.

If a scene is in the sea,

would you put
"interior" or "exterior"?

Ah, never mind.

No alliances, huh?

What's a funny name for a boat?

Well, then, that's it.

I have to drive a wedge
between Peter and Chris.

Push them back apart.

Okay, now to loudly watch this
Aaron Sorkin MasterClass.

Hi, I'm Aaron Sorkin and
I've been paid a lot of money

to give you false hope
about your ridiculous dream.

Oh, thanks, you guys.

I got this.

What the hell?

My credit card is gone.

"Dear Lois,

Chris and I borrowed your credit
card to shop for fireworks

you would normally
have to be a town to buy."

Ow! Ow! Ow!

Gather all the fingers! Ow!

All right, time to put an end
to this Peter-Chris alliance.

Hey, FYI, I accidentally got
in the shower with my socks on.

I wasn't sure what to do,

so I just mashed them down
the drain with my elbow.

Peter, we need to talk.

I just found the oddest thing
in Chris' room.

It's this essay he apparently
wrote for school

Joe Swanson.

Joe Swanson?

Let me see that.

Okay, th-this is actually quite
long, can you just summarize it?

Chris says,
"Mr. Swanson's skewed take

"on contemporary politics
is painfully astute

and refreshingly twisted."

That son of a bitch.

I've been like
a father to that kid.

I know, right?

I mean, who does Chris
think he is?

The last three pages
is all about

how you're aging as well
as Jennifer Lopez.

Well, that's our son.

Oh, hey, Chris.

You know, I just found
the oddest thing

in your father's room:

an essay he wrote for work
about his favorite son,

Charles from Charles in Charge.

What? But Charles wasn't
even one of the sons.

He was their babysitter.

I'm so sorry.

I know it must be hard
to hear that your father

would rather be a parent
to a fictional character

who the writers, in five
seasons, never even bothered

to give a last name...

A totally weird but true fact,
feel free to Google that...

Than his own son.

I hate him so much.

Wait, Dad dots all his
I's with a smiley face?

Yeah, that means he's got flair.

Maybe those faces
brighten his otherwise

bleak day just a tiny bit.

Maybe he's known for them.

I don't know,
it seems stupid and weird.

You're stupid and weird!

Now I see why
your father prefers

Charles Last Name Unknown.

Hello, uh, my name is Stewie,

and I'm a milk-aholic.

Okay, I figured out
what I got to do:

I need to get back together
with Amber.

What? But I thought you were
just about to break up with her.

Brian, are you sure this isn't
just your wounded ego talking?

Pfft, no. What?

No, I-I can really
see us together.

There's something romantic about
her style of life on the road.

Oh, really?
What's the romantic part?

Taking a whore bath
in a Taco Bell restroom

or peeing in a Gatorade bottle
that you leave near a payphone?

You don't know what
you're talking about.

Don't I?

Because I think that
you can't stand

that you got dumped by a carny,

someone you feel
is inferior to you.

Fine, you're right, okay?
I'm pissed.

That's why I'm off to win
Amber back so I can dump her.

Look, man, I don't know if
Lois and the fat man told you,

but they found a lump
on your neck.

Is this really what you want
to spend your time on?

What the hell?

I thought you said we were both
gonna get Mark Davis haircuts.

- Who's that?
- This maniac.

I don't know what
you're talking about.

I'm talking about
the voice mail you left me.

Which now I see was all just
a trick to humiliate me.

- I didn't leave you
a voice mail.
- Oh, no?

Uh, hey, Dad.

It's your son, Chris.

Hot Pockets and Fortnite.

Son of a bitch,
I guess I did call you.

Hey, know what could be fun?

If we both got bowl haircuts
like... Oh, hang on.

Estrogen smoothie, please.

Sorry, I'm busy
tricking my husband.

Wait a minute.

I would never trick my husband.

Dad, I think Mom
may have left that message.

But why?

You think she's, like, trying
to get us mad at each other?

Well, it would certainly
explain the voice mail I got.

Hey, Chris,
Principal Shepherd here.

So, listen, the nurse
is going to press charges

for you touching her breast.

I offered her the money
like you said, but, well,

that seemed to make it worse.

So, we either got to come up
on that number

or find a different plan,

but methinks a lawyer
is in our future. Hmph.

Anyway, call me back,

but remember the rule on these:
delete, delete, delete.

Message saved.

What kind of game
is Mom playing?

Brian? What are you doing?

Amber, please take me back.

Look, I even brought you
a peace offering:

a pack of cigarettes
and some Nicorette gum

because I wasn't sure which way
you wanted to go this week.

Aw, that's sweet.

I'm-a smoke and chew them both
for an extra nicotine surge.

It's what carnies call
"The Surf and Turf."

Well, that doesn't
make much sense,

but it sure is two things.

Amber, we have
something special.

I want us to grow mold together.

Aw, me, too.

And I'd love
to take you back, Brian,

but if we're a couple,
that means

you'd have to be willing
to come on the road

and work the carnival with me.

I mean, that's my life.

Of course.
I'm totally up for that.

Really?

Aw, that's boss!

Let's do it!

Okay, great, so you
do take me back?

Well, then, as long as we're
officially a couple again,

I have something to say.

Amber, if you think
for one second...

Oh, my gosh, Uncle Earl, you got
to meet my new boyfriend Brian.

Good to meet you, Brian.

But don't you break
her heart, you hear?

Last guy who treated her wrong

had his scrotum
nail-clippered off,

then got kicked to death
behind a Chick-fil-A.

I assure you, my intentions
are strictly honorable.

Okay, then.

I'm just telling you this as
her uncle and her ex-boyfriend.

Check it out, Chris.

Your mom tries to turn us
against each other?

Well, this ought to teach her
a thing or two.

Your plan is to drop
a piano on Mom?

No, not at all.

See, your mother
loves this piano,

and by stringing it up
in the air like this,

she'll never be able
to touch it again.

That's genius.

My plan was just to suggest
something to you halfheartedly

and then immediately back down
like a beta.

I think we should
go with my plan.

No, yeah,
your-your plan is better.

Oh, hey, you two.
What's all this?

Don't play dumb, Mom.

Chris and I see you're
trying to push us apart.

Yeah, we're your husband
and your son

and we were actually getting
to know each other,

but it seems like some part
of you wanted that to fail.

Oh, you guys, I am so sorry.

You're right.

I guess, at first, I felt bad
you were making fun of me,

and then later I resented
that you'd removed me entirely

from any family decision-making.

But what I did was awful.

I genuinely hope you
can forgive me.

Honestly, Lois, I'm not certain
I will be able to excuse this.

But I pray that, with time,
healing may come.

What? You do something crazy
basically once a week

and I always forgive you.

Fine. Get a Mark Davis haircut
and we'll call it even.

I hate you for this, Peter.

I know.

Now let's go upstairs
and have idiot sex.

Well, these last few days...

Ahh! Son of a bitch!

Dad never took the piano down.

I think it just fell on Brian.

He has had a bad week.

Anyway, like I was saying,

these last few days
have been quite an adventure,

but I'm just happy that
everything is back to normal.

Yes. And now I must away
to the sea,

and hunt down the orca
that killed my Pappy.

Be careful, my love,

for no one truly knows
the secrets of the inky deep.

Fare thee well, my love.

As "Come Sail Away" by Styx
begins to play,

Peter heads off to the harbor,

and we fade out.

Thank you, Mr. Sorkin.

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