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Lois, can I have
a Pop-Tart in bed, please?
Lois?
Hey, Chris?
CHRIS:
Yeah?
Do you think Lois would be okay
if I ate a Pop-Tart in bed?
Probably.
Probably, right?
Lois, you in the bathroom?
(gasping)
Well, Mrs. Griffin,
you have three crushed ribs,
but I was able to stop
the internal bleeding.
Doctor, this has happened
seven times in the last month.
Peter rolls over in his sleep
and almost kills me.
I see.
Well, that sucks.
Look, I don't do it
on purpose.
Well, it looks like you got
a handle on it then.
No, we don't.
He practically
smothers me every night.
Well, are you hogging
the blankets?
No
"Probably hogging
blankets."
And if he's not smothering me,
he's keeping me up all night
writing with that
giant plume of his.
"Dearest Augustine,
I do hope this latest damp
has not aggravated
your gray lung."
Dip, dip, dip, dip, dip.
"Matters stateside
have taken a tragic turn
"as this year's gourd crop
has fallen prey
"to a rather
unexpected infestation
of saltmarsh cutworms."
Dip, dip, dip, dip, dip.
Peter, it's 4:00
in the morning.
Come to bed!
"Marital concerns continue
to bedevil me."
Look, I'm sorry.
I wasn't planning on
spending all night there.
Look, how about if I take
you to the park, huh?
Come on. You like
the park, right?
We're about to
pass the turnoff.
Here it comes.
You may take me
to the park.
Um, excuse me. I didn't
bring any of my toys.
Can I play with
some of yours?
No! Mine!
Are you all right?
I'm fine.
I-I didn't push him back
because he has leukemia.
My name's Penelope.
What's yours?
Stewie.
I've never seen you
around here before.
I'm new to town and I
don't have many friends.
(chuckling):
All right.
A lot of pressure on me
instantly, but okay.
Would you like to play with
some of my toys, Stewie?
Well, what have you got?
I have a set of jacks,
a paddleball,
and this taffy
with superglue.
Isn't that the little
boy who pushed you?
Hmm, yes.
You there, would you like
a piece of candy?
(choking)
Don't push.
Uh, Lois, why do we have
Lucy and Ricky beds?
Because I'm sick of you crushing
me in the middle of the night.
Dr. Hartman called
about my X rays.
He said my spine
is now disfigured.
Lois, if God wanted me
to not sleep with my wife,
he would have made me
John Travolta.
Peter, I'm really
tired, okay?
Just give the bed a try.
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