Family Guy (1998–…): Season 13, Episode 8 - Our Idiot Brian - full transcript
Brian begins to think he's not so smart when he takes the SAT'S for Meg and gets a low score, so Peter decides to show him the joys of being an idiot.
♪ 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... Fam... ily... Guy! ♪
TV ANNOUNCER: Hallmark Original Pictures presents
an instant family classic: Summers with My Slow Brother,
starring a cast of people who make you say "Oh,"
because you didn't think they were still acting.
For example, Grant Show.
Oh.
Rachael Leigh Cook.
Oh.
David Faustino.
Oh.
And Robin Tunney. Huh?
The bald-headed chick from Empire Records.
Oh.
Guys, could you turn that down?
I'm trying to study for the SAT.
Hey, careful, Meg.
Remember what happened the last time I had to choose
between you and the TV.
Don't worry. Meg's holding our stuff.
Meg, don't drink that soda!
I'm serious, you guys.
I haven't been doing well on these practice tests,
and I need to improve my score to get into a good college.
You're in high school, sweetie.
You should be much more concerned about your weight
than your SAT scores.
Don't listen to her, Meg.
Academics are extremely important.
Are the SATs essential?
Vital? Crucial?
D: All of the above.
I'll get the scissors and cut that poop off your bum.
Meg, trust me, you ace these SATs,
you could go on to do anything.
You could be a doctor, an architect.
Hell, you could even coach the Mighty Ducks.
All right, the championship is on the line.
It's time for a formation they're not expecting.
The Flying V?
No. The Stinky V.
Wassup, my sistas?
Ooh, I ain't sat down in a hot minute!
What the hell? Why are you talking like that?
Sorry, I have family in town.
You guys, I'm freaking out.
The SATs are this weekend,
and there's no way I'm gonna get a good score.
You know, Meg, maybe you should get someone super smart
to take it for you.
Have someone take it for me?
But that's cheating.
No one cares about cheating anymore, Meg.
Not since Slick Willy Clinton
lowered the nation's moral standards.
God, give it up, Patty.
I'm just saying, find someone really smart
to take the SAT for you in exchange for money.
Did someone say "Jewish"?
Oh, hey, Neil.
Listen, is there any chance
you'd be willing to take the SAT for me this weekend?
Sorry, Meg, I'm swamped.
I'm taking my body into the shop.
I don't know what you've been doing to this thing, Neil,
but you see this gunk?
That ain't supposed to be there.
Well, just do whatever you can.
All right, I'm gonna go eat a sandwich with one hand
and fill out the invoice with the other.
Don't worry, Meg.
There's got to be someone else
who'd be willing to take that test for you.
Like who?
You guys are my only friends,
and everyone in my family's a moron.
What about your hot mom, Meg?
What? I said how about your dog? He's smart.
That doesn't sound like what you said,
but yeah, Brian is kind of smart.
Maybe I'll get him to take it for me.
(whispering): Your mom's so (bleep) hot.
TV ANNOUNCER: We now return to another
Michael Jordan underwear commercial
on a plane for some reason.
Does your underwear have tags?
Uh, what?
Uh, Mr. Jordan, you're gonna have to take your seat
and stop asking people about their underwear.
Oh, hey, Brian.
I was just thinking about you.
You know how I've always loved your novel
Faster Than the Speed of Love?
Okay, what's this?
She's peanut buttering you up for something.
No, I-I didn't even know you'd read my novel.
Oh, yeah. I'm a huge fan of "FATSPOL."
That's the acronym I use for Faster Than the Speed of Love,
because I mention it so much.
God, that would've saved me years.
Anyway, I was just rereading
my favorite passage the other day.
"The weight of the gun in Jason's hand surprised him.
'How heavy,' he wondered, 'is the human soul?'"
That's page one.
She's quoting page one.
Your book is genius, Brian.
I can't believe Amazon is dumping it for 99 cents.
What?! My book is on Amazon?!
Oh, yeah, Brian,
there's something for everyone on Amazon.
In fact, you're so smart,
I thought you'd be the perfect person
to maybe take the SAT for me.
What? But that would be wrong.
Well, I suppose you may look at it that way.
But a wise book once said, "With the heart at stake,
right and wrong is a stake through the heart."
That one's on the cover.
Wow, ensnared by my own verbal trap.
Well played, me, through you.
All right, Meg, I'll take that test for you.
I guess what I'm saying is,
"Ace Pilotson, reporting for World War Love."
What? She didn't read the book, Bri.
That's your main character.
Don't worry, Meg-- I'm always here to help.
Like a 1960s British policeman.
Officer! Me child's been kidnapped!
Calm down, ma'am, it's all under control.
I've got a whistle, a cloth helmet,
a key to a call box, a soft rubber truncheon,
and a map of the city. Please hurry!
I don't much like your tone.
That's a tiny pencil-and-pad citation for you!
Okay, Brian, you can do this.
(breathes deeply)
Hey, Meg. Hi, Meg.
Hey, how's it going?
(urinating)
My locker.
Meg, I thought we were gonna try to work on that.
Hey, other teens,
how about our youth culture, am I right?
All the new hairs we're getting.
Hey, hashtag SATs, huh?
Yeah, I guess.
(quietly): Wow, I can't believe this worked.
I was afraid I'd stick out, like the one guy
in Lincoln's cabinet who didn't have a beard.
I want to win this war, and I want to do it fast. Ideas?
We should meet the rebels head-on in Virginia.
Yes, and use our ships to block their supply chains.
We could also use our troop advantage
to out-flank them in the west.
Uh, what did that baby just say?
All right, cell phones away, eyes on your own paper,
and before we start, who's giving me a ride home?
Not you, a girl.
(quietly): For luck, Meg.
(farts)
We're all rooting for ya.
TV ANNOUNCER: We now return to Malcolm XXY.
We didn't land on Plymouth Rock!
CROWD: Yeah!
Plymouth Rock gave us both sets of genitals!
CROWD: Yeah! MAN: What?
Mail's here.
I got my SAT scores.
So, how'd we do?
"We" scored a thousand.
Nice! One thousand, on the nose.
Boop! You are welcome.
Brian, that's a thousand out of a possible 2,400!
That's the worst score in my class!
What?! Damn it,
why did I ever think you were smart?
That's... that's not possible.
Ha-ha! Brian's stupid!
(gasps) I must alert the townsfolk!
Hyah! Fly, Artemis, fly!
Hark, townsfolk!
Brian, uh...
he... oh, damn, what was it?
Brian...
Brian goes to college? No.
Brian gets another book published?
Y-Yeah. Yeah, maybe that's it.
Tell all that Brian's getting another book published!
Oh, thank God!
I thought it was gonna be a Meg episode all throughout.
I got the lowest score in Meg's class?
How could this happen?
Face it, Brian, this proves that you're stupid.
Proves it empirically.
That means it's verified. I know!
I just weirdly woke up in the laundry room.
Not now, Peter! Geez, what's wrong with you?
Brian took the SAT for Meg, and it turns out he's an idiot.
That's not true!
Methinks the Hoff protest a month.
Do you even know what you're trying to say?
Hey, look, don't feel bad, Brian-- it's fun being stupid.
You don't got to worry about nothing,
you don't got to read books, and you never die.
Peter, that... that's not correct.
How would you know, stupid?
(laughter)
Thanks a lot, SAT.
Man, this is the worst day of my life.
Empirically. Eh, careful.
Brian, being a dumb guy's not so awful.
I'll show you. Come on, you're spending the day with me.
Here, you want a beer? Peter, it's 11:00 a.m.
If the clock ain't digital, you don't know that.
Well, actually, I could use a drink.
There you go! You look stupider already.
Let's go. Where are we going?
Who cares? Now, come on,
we're gonna party like it's the Roaring Twenties.
(lively music playing)
♪ No TV, movies suck ♪
♪ I'm here with my gal ♪
♪ Shake your hands, kick around ♪
♪ Wear a suit to breakfast ♪
♪ Underwear that laces up ♪
♪ All girls have a guy's haircut ♪
♪ Crank your car to make it start ♪
♪ You will die of measles. ♪
(tires screech, cars crash)
(laughter)
Oh, my God!
Yeah, see, people go to NASCAR hoping for a crash.
Well, this is all crashes.
But that guy could've been hurt! Why are you laughing?
'Cause it's funny! What, do you think you're better than me?
By the way, a huge part of being an idiot
is constantly accusing people
of thinking they're better than you.
That and forwarding mildly funny e-mails
way after everybody's already seen them.
Heh. You know this one's funny
'cause there's seven fonts in 12 colors.
CHRIS: Ha-ha! Dad, I just got this hilarious e-mail!
You got to see this!
Ha-ha! Chris would love this.
(laughs hysterically)
(popping) Hey, it looks like
they're shooting T-shirts into the crowd.
Oh, those aren't T-shirts. Thems is hot dogs.
Huh. That's kind of cool.
I want a hot dog.
Well, then you better move quick-- he's reloading!
(barking)
(thumping)
Yeah! Free flying meat!
MAN: Hey, you feel good about yourself, jagoff?
Yeah, that's right-- I knocked your kid over to get a hot dog.
What, do you think you're better than me?!
MAN: What, you think you're better than me?!
You think you're better than me?!
Ah, look at you, Brian, right at home with us dumb guys.
You're blending in better than a centipede among millipedes.
Well, what should we do today?
Let's try on 1,000 shoes.
Wait a minute.
(counting under his breath)
You're an imposter!
♪ If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe ♪
♪ I'd been married long time ago ♪
♪ Where did you come from, where did you go? ♪
♪ Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe? ♪
♪ If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe ♪
♪ I'd been married long time ago ♪
♪ Where did you come from, where did you go? ♪
♪ Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe? ♪
♪ ♪
♪ ♪
♪ If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe ♪
♪ I'd been married long time ago ♪
♪ Where did you come from, where did you go? ♪
♪ Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe? ♪
♪ If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe ♪
♪ I'd been married long time ago ♪
♪ Where did you come from, where did you go? ♪
♪ Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe? ♪
(laughing)
Hey, yo, Stew. My boy Peter and I
are watching this Sandler movie That's My Boy.
You gotta come check it out, man.
It's amazeballs.
This is just the DVD menu.
(chuckles) No way.
Aw, man, I am buzzin' hardcore
off of that chaw, man.
Brian, what the deuce?
(chuckles) Deuce.
Like poo. Yes, yes, deuce like poo.
But what the devil has happened to you?
Uh, I woke up, Kemosabe?
No, I mean it. How could one bad test score
transform you into a complete moron?
Brian, I'm concerned something is very wrong with you.
Nah, man, I've never felt better, Beef Stew.
Bazinga!
(chuckles) Like what the gay scientist says.
Hey, Brian, say something else from TV.
What you talkin' 'bout, Phyllis?!
(gasps)
Aw, gross, he's getting his nose period.
Oh, my God! We've got to get him to a hospital!
Don't worry, Brian, I'll save you.
I'm good in a crisis.
After all, I used to work the suicide hotline.
MAN: I-I just can't take it.
I discovered my wife's been cheating on me for a while.
And I just... (sighs)
I can't live like this.
I have to kill myself.
Doesn't it make more sense to kill her?
Brian, the good news is we've stopped the bleeding.
And we've removed the Matchbox car
that was lodged in your rectum.
I did that right after you passed out.
(chuckles) Classic P-Dog.
But, Dr. Hartman, why did he lose consciousness?
Well, keeping in mind the recent behavioral changes
you've described, I did a CAT scan...
On a dog. (chuckles)
We laughed about that, too.
However, I'm sorry to inform you that Brian has a brain tumor.
(all gasp)
Oh, my God.
There's only one thing to do:
shrink down to microscopic size, enter Brian's brain,
and destroy the tumor from within.
I was raped by a bug.
Brain tumor. How is that possible?
As a father in a hospital getting bad news,
I am gonna sadly slide down the wall and take my hat off.
I forgot the hat.
So, Doc, w... um, how much Jamba Juice do I have to drink
to cure this? Um...
I-I've also heard that, like, crystals exist?
Dr. Hartman, do you think the brain tumor might explain
why Brian's been acting so odd lately?
Hmm, well, I haven't heard of brains being linked to behavior,
but I suppose anything is possible.
Mom, is Dad gonna die?
No, Chris, Brian is the one with the brain tumor.
Dr. Hartman, what's the prognosis?
Well, it says here Brian's tumor is for office use only.
(groans) Benign. It says "benign."
Oh, Brian, that's wonderful news! You're going to be okay!
Winning!
(chuckles) Remember somebody said that?
Well, since Brian's tumor poses no immediate threat,
we can schedule surgery to remove it,
and he'll be back to his old self in no time.
Well, I say we get that tumor out of him right away
before he gets any dumber. No way.
I'm never going back to my old self.
I rock like this. I'm legit.
I'm uber. I'm awesome-sauce.
Either take the tumor out of him or put one in me!
I can't stand this!
So i-if Brian doesn't have the surgery,
will he be all right?
I don't know. Is Dax Shepard all right?
Eh, seems kind of gratuitous.
My point is, Brian could have the surgery and be smart again,
or he could skip the surgery and stay dumb like this.
Well, Brian, if-if you're happy this way...
Hells to the yeah, I am!
Hey, um, I was told there would be a lollipop
at the end of this?
(quietly): Good, he doesn't know about the stickers.
I'll take two.
Brian, you're not thinking clearly, all right?
You've got to agree to this surgery.
Because right now, you're as useless as Black Widow is
to the Avengers.
So... what's your superpower?
Kicking.
Oh, right, 'cause none of us can kick.
Hey, which one of you guys can kick?
Hulk, stop being nice.
Sorry.
(singing opera music)
Hey, this isn't the Kenny Chesney concert.
No, I'm afraid that was a white lie to get you here, Brian.
This is the opera. I'm hoping that re-exposing you
to high culture will remind you of the joys of a refined mind.
Cool. I'm sitting on my foot to hold in a dump.
Please don't embarrass me here.
Pepperoni pie, extra cheese. G32.
Oh, cool. My friend Pete is here.
Pete Za. (chuckles)
Nom, nom, nom, nom, nom. That's gonna be me in, like, a minute.
Over here, bro!
Aw, I moved my foot.
Hey, this isn't the Kenny Chesney concert.
(sighs) No, Brian, this is called yoga.
Lots of smart people do it instead of going to church.
And after we get done with this, you're going to talk a lot
about being present and grounded.
You're going to be impossible to be around.
Let's get started.
BRIAN: Whoa! Schwing!
Schwing! Schwing! Schwing! Schwing!
That was from Wayne's World.
That's the sound of Wayne's boner.
Okay, before you say anything, no,
this is not the Kenny Chesney concert.
We're here to have a nice civilized dinner and to show you
that you don't have to eat all your meals in your car.
Now, we're going to start by hearing the waiter
give us the specials.
Good evening. Our first special is an almond-crusted salmon...
Hey, cram it, skinny. Give me free food
or I'm gonna tell people on Yelp there was a pube in my salad.
Free food, right away.
Okay. All right.
I forgot that Yelp is a weapon for dumb people.
You taught me something today, Bri.
That I can throw a frog a hundred feet?
(sighs) I can't change you back.
This whole endeavor was doomed to fail.
Like an Asian guy going to a salon.
Hi. I want to have my anus breached.
He's gone, Rupert.
It appears I've lost Brian to the dumb side.
So now I need you to be Brian.
Here's your collar. And here's a laptop.
Write something bad.
"It was the last day of summer
and the first day of the rest of her life."
Wow! You did that with your face!
Hey, what's this? Gaylord practice?
That's the eighth time you've asked me that today.
Listen, Brian, I've been trying to change you.
But I realize that if you're happy,
I need to accept the you that you want to be.
No matter how painful that is.
What are you doing?
Oh, my friend Terry told me you can get high from licking paint.
Who's Terry?
He's friends with Gus.
Who's Gus?
Um, Gus is Terry's friend.
It... You kind of had to be there.
For what? No story has been told!
Okay, well, I'm gonna go put on my python and walk to the park.
Brian, wait. I'm...
I'm trying to say that I accept your choice to forego surgery.
I release you into the thick mire of stupidity.
Hey, Brian, I started the car in the garage
and it's all foggy in there.
Want to go pretend we're in London?
Oh, totally! Shrimp on the barbie, huh?
(laughs) Yes!
Good Lord, if I don't do something,
his stupidity will kill him.
And then I'd lose Brian forever.
Like that dog the Russians shot into space.
He made it! Your dog is in orbit!
Is wonderful. How do we get him back now?
Oh... about that.
We do not.
Oh, my poor dog. He will die up there.
Joke on them! I find happy dog planet.
In 50 years, we all go back to Earth and bite everybody.
But now we dance!
(electronic dance music playing)
I've got to convince him to get that tumor removed
before it's too late.
Now, remember, it's England, so take long deep breaths.
Wait a second.
I've been approaching this far too intelligently.
He's an idiot, so this won't be hard at all.
Hey, Brian, you want to go see Dr. Hartman
and get that procedure where you get two wieners?
Whoa! Hell yeah!
That way, when I watch Black Swan, I can aim one
at Natalie Portman and aim the other at...
Yes, yes, yes, we all know who the other one was. Let's go.
Well, good news, Griffins: Brian is gonna be just fine.
I was able to remove his tumor.
And if anyone wants to keep it, it's here in this Tupperware.
This-this is half of a chicken cutlet.
Oh, boy. What did I have for lunch?
Oh, Brian, I'm so glad you're all right.
Thanks. But this is all kind of surreal.
I mean, being in this hospital bed,
I-I feel like the main character of As I Lay Dying
as he or she lay dying.
Oh, that's just the amount of superficial quasi-knowledge
the old Brian had.
I missed you, buddy.
Welcome back.
Thanks, Stewie.
You never gave up on me.
You knew that wasn't really me.
Yeah, well, it's no big...
I mean, I was having fun, making new friends,
getting laid all the time, sleeping like a rock,
but you made the call.
You unilaterally decided I was better off
a bitter alcoholic failure who can only hang out with a baby.
Hey. We have fun.
Hey, Lois, guess what.
I had them do that two-wiener operation on me.
You what?! (singsongy): Double trouble.
(thud) Uh-oh. That was the original.
♪ 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... Fam... ily... Guy! ♪
TV ANNOUNCER: Hallmark Original Pictures presents
an instant family classic: Summers with My Slow Brother,
starring a cast of people who make you say "Oh,"
because you didn't think they were still acting.
For example, Grant Show.
Oh.
Rachael Leigh Cook.
Oh.
David Faustino.
Oh.
And Robin Tunney. Huh?
The bald-headed chick from Empire Records.
Oh.
Guys, could you turn that down?
I'm trying to study for the SAT.
Hey, careful, Meg.
Remember what happened the last time I had to choose
between you and the TV.
Don't worry. Meg's holding our stuff.
Meg, don't drink that soda!
I'm serious, you guys.
I haven't been doing well on these practice tests,
and I need to improve my score to get into a good college.
You're in high school, sweetie.
You should be much more concerned about your weight
than your SAT scores.
Don't listen to her, Meg.
Academics are extremely important.
Are the SATs essential?
Vital? Crucial?
D: All of the above.
I'll get the scissors and cut that poop off your bum.
Meg, trust me, you ace these SATs,
you could go on to do anything.
You could be a doctor, an architect.
Hell, you could even coach the Mighty Ducks.
All right, the championship is on the line.
It's time for a formation they're not expecting.
The Flying V?
No. The Stinky V.
Wassup, my sistas?
Ooh, I ain't sat down in a hot minute!
What the hell? Why are you talking like that?
Sorry, I have family in town.
You guys, I'm freaking out.
The SATs are this weekend,
and there's no way I'm gonna get a good score.
You know, Meg, maybe you should get someone super smart
to take it for you.
Have someone take it for me?
But that's cheating.
No one cares about cheating anymore, Meg.
Not since Slick Willy Clinton
lowered the nation's moral standards.
God, give it up, Patty.
I'm just saying, find someone really smart
to take the SAT for you in exchange for money.
Did someone say "Jewish"?
Oh, hey, Neil.
Listen, is there any chance
you'd be willing to take the SAT for me this weekend?
Sorry, Meg, I'm swamped.
I'm taking my body into the shop.
I don't know what you've been doing to this thing, Neil,
but you see this gunk?
That ain't supposed to be there.
Well, just do whatever you can.
All right, I'm gonna go eat a sandwich with one hand
and fill out the invoice with the other.
Don't worry, Meg.
There's got to be someone else
who'd be willing to take that test for you.
Like who?
You guys are my only friends,
and everyone in my family's a moron.
What about your hot mom, Meg?
What? I said how about your dog? He's smart.
That doesn't sound like what you said,
but yeah, Brian is kind of smart.
Maybe I'll get him to take it for me.
(whispering): Your mom's so (bleep) hot.
TV ANNOUNCER: We now return to another
Michael Jordan underwear commercial
on a plane for some reason.
Does your underwear have tags?
Uh, what?
Uh, Mr. Jordan, you're gonna have to take your seat
and stop asking people about their underwear.
Oh, hey, Brian.
I was just thinking about you.
You know how I've always loved your novel
Faster Than the Speed of Love?
Okay, what's this?
She's peanut buttering you up for something.
No, I-I didn't even know you'd read my novel.
Oh, yeah. I'm a huge fan of "FATSPOL."
That's the acronym I use for Faster Than the Speed of Love,
because I mention it so much.
God, that would've saved me years.
Anyway, I was just rereading
my favorite passage the other day.
"The weight of the gun in Jason's hand surprised him.
'How heavy,' he wondered, 'is the human soul?'"
That's page one.
She's quoting page one.
Your book is genius, Brian.
I can't believe Amazon is dumping it for 99 cents.
What?! My book is on Amazon?!
Oh, yeah, Brian,
there's something for everyone on Amazon.
In fact, you're so smart,
I thought you'd be the perfect person
to maybe take the SAT for me.
What? But that would be wrong.
Well, I suppose you may look at it that way.
But a wise book once said, "With the heart at stake,
right and wrong is a stake through the heart."
That one's on the cover.
Wow, ensnared by my own verbal trap.
Well played, me, through you.
All right, Meg, I'll take that test for you.
I guess what I'm saying is,
"Ace Pilotson, reporting for World War Love."
What? She didn't read the book, Bri.
That's your main character.
Don't worry, Meg-- I'm always here to help.
Like a 1960s British policeman.
Officer! Me child's been kidnapped!
Calm down, ma'am, it's all under control.
I've got a whistle, a cloth helmet,
a key to a call box, a soft rubber truncheon,
and a map of the city. Please hurry!
I don't much like your tone.
That's a tiny pencil-and-pad citation for you!
Okay, Brian, you can do this.
(breathes deeply)
Hey, Meg. Hi, Meg.
Hey, how's it going?
(urinating)
My locker.
Meg, I thought we were gonna try to work on that.
Hey, other teens,
how about our youth culture, am I right?
All the new hairs we're getting.
Hey, hashtag SATs, huh?
Yeah, I guess.
(quietly): Wow, I can't believe this worked.
I was afraid I'd stick out, like the one guy
in Lincoln's cabinet who didn't have a beard.
I want to win this war, and I want to do it fast. Ideas?
We should meet the rebels head-on in Virginia.
Yes, and use our ships to block their supply chains.
We could also use our troop advantage
to out-flank them in the west.
Uh, what did that baby just say?
All right, cell phones away, eyes on your own paper,
and before we start, who's giving me a ride home?
Not you, a girl.
(quietly): For luck, Meg.
(farts)
We're all rooting for ya.
TV ANNOUNCER: We now return to Malcolm XXY.
We didn't land on Plymouth Rock!
CROWD: Yeah!
Plymouth Rock gave us both sets of genitals!
CROWD: Yeah! MAN: What?
Mail's here.
I got my SAT scores.
So, how'd we do?
"We" scored a thousand.
Nice! One thousand, on the nose.
Boop! You are welcome.
Brian, that's a thousand out of a possible 2,400!
That's the worst score in my class!
What?! Damn it,
why did I ever think you were smart?
That's... that's not possible.
Ha-ha! Brian's stupid!
(gasps) I must alert the townsfolk!
Hyah! Fly, Artemis, fly!
Hark, townsfolk!
Brian, uh...
he... oh, damn, what was it?
Brian...
Brian goes to college? No.
Brian gets another book published?
Y-Yeah. Yeah, maybe that's it.
Tell all that Brian's getting another book published!
Oh, thank God!
I thought it was gonna be a Meg episode all throughout.
I got the lowest score in Meg's class?
How could this happen?
Face it, Brian, this proves that you're stupid.
Proves it empirically.
That means it's verified. I know!
I just weirdly woke up in the laundry room.
Not now, Peter! Geez, what's wrong with you?
Brian took the SAT for Meg, and it turns out he's an idiot.
That's not true!
Methinks the Hoff protest a month.
Do you even know what you're trying to say?
Hey, look, don't feel bad, Brian-- it's fun being stupid.
You don't got to worry about nothing,
you don't got to read books, and you never die.
Peter, that... that's not correct.
How would you know, stupid?
(laughter)
Thanks a lot, SAT.
Man, this is the worst day of my life.
Empirically. Eh, careful.
Brian, being a dumb guy's not so awful.
I'll show you. Come on, you're spending the day with me.
Here, you want a beer? Peter, it's 11:00 a.m.
If the clock ain't digital, you don't know that.
Well, actually, I could use a drink.
There you go! You look stupider already.
Let's go. Where are we going?
Who cares? Now, come on,
we're gonna party like it's the Roaring Twenties.
(lively music playing)
♪ No TV, movies suck ♪
♪ I'm here with my gal ♪
♪ Shake your hands, kick around ♪
♪ Wear a suit to breakfast ♪
♪ Underwear that laces up ♪
♪ All girls have a guy's haircut ♪
♪ Crank your car to make it start ♪
♪ You will die of measles. ♪
(tires screech, cars crash)
(laughter)
Oh, my God!
Yeah, see, people go to NASCAR hoping for a crash.
Well, this is all crashes.
But that guy could've been hurt! Why are you laughing?
'Cause it's funny! What, do you think you're better than me?
By the way, a huge part of being an idiot
is constantly accusing people
of thinking they're better than you.
That and forwarding mildly funny e-mails
way after everybody's already seen them.
Heh. You know this one's funny
'cause there's seven fonts in 12 colors.
CHRIS: Ha-ha! Dad, I just got this hilarious e-mail!
You got to see this!
Ha-ha! Chris would love this.
(laughs hysterically)
(popping) Hey, it looks like
they're shooting T-shirts into the crowd.
Oh, those aren't T-shirts. Thems is hot dogs.
Huh. That's kind of cool.
I want a hot dog.
Well, then you better move quick-- he's reloading!
(barking)
(thumping)
Yeah! Free flying meat!
MAN: Hey, you feel good about yourself, jagoff?
Yeah, that's right-- I knocked your kid over to get a hot dog.
What, do you think you're better than me?!
MAN: What, you think you're better than me?!
You think you're better than me?!
Ah, look at you, Brian, right at home with us dumb guys.
You're blending in better than a centipede among millipedes.
Well, what should we do today?
Let's try on 1,000 shoes.
Wait a minute.
(counting under his breath)
You're an imposter!
♪ If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe ♪
♪ I'd been married long time ago ♪
♪ Where did you come from, where did you go? ♪
♪ Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe? ♪
♪ If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe ♪
♪ I'd been married long time ago ♪
♪ Where did you come from, where did you go? ♪
♪ Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe? ♪
♪ ♪
♪ ♪
♪ If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe ♪
♪ I'd been married long time ago ♪
♪ Where did you come from, where did you go? ♪
♪ Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe? ♪
♪ If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe ♪
♪ I'd been married long time ago ♪
♪ Where did you come from, where did you go? ♪
♪ Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe? ♪
(laughing)
Hey, yo, Stew. My boy Peter and I
are watching this Sandler movie That's My Boy.
You gotta come check it out, man.
It's amazeballs.
This is just the DVD menu.
(chuckles) No way.
Aw, man, I am buzzin' hardcore
off of that chaw, man.
Brian, what the deuce?
(chuckles) Deuce.
Like poo. Yes, yes, deuce like poo.
But what the devil has happened to you?
Uh, I woke up, Kemosabe?
No, I mean it. How could one bad test score
transform you into a complete moron?
Brian, I'm concerned something is very wrong with you.
Nah, man, I've never felt better, Beef Stew.
Bazinga!
(chuckles) Like what the gay scientist says.
Hey, Brian, say something else from TV.
What you talkin' 'bout, Phyllis?!
(gasps)
Aw, gross, he's getting his nose period.
Oh, my God! We've got to get him to a hospital!
Don't worry, Brian, I'll save you.
I'm good in a crisis.
After all, I used to work the suicide hotline.
MAN: I-I just can't take it.
I discovered my wife's been cheating on me for a while.
And I just... (sighs)
I can't live like this.
I have to kill myself.
Doesn't it make more sense to kill her?
Brian, the good news is we've stopped the bleeding.
And we've removed the Matchbox car
that was lodged in your rectum.
I did that right after you passed out.
(chuckles) Classic P-Dog.
But, Dr. Hartman, why did he lose consciousness?
Well, keeping in mind the recent behavioral changes
you've described, I did a CAT scan...
On a dog. (chuckles)
We laughed about that, too.
However, I'm sorry to inform you that Brian has a brain tumor.
(all gasp)
Oh, my God.
There's only one thing to do:
shrink down to microscopic size, enter Brian's brain,
and destroy the tumor from within.
I was raped by a bug.
Brain tumor. How is that possible?
As a father in a hospital getting bad news,
I am gonna sadly slide down the wall and take my hat off.
I forgot the hat.
So, Doc, w... um, how much Jamba Juice do I have to drink
to cure this? Um...
I-I've also heard that, like, crystals exist?
Dr. Hartman, do you think the brain tumor might explain
why Brian's been acting so odd lately?
Hmm, well, I haven't heard of brains being linked to behavior,
but I suppose anything is possible.
Mom, is Dad gonna die?
No, Chris, Brian is the one with the brain tumor.
Dr. Hartman, what's the prognosis?
Well, it says here Brian's tumor is for office use only.
(groans) Benign. It says "benign."
Oh, Brian, that's wonderful news! You're going to be okay!
Winning!
(chuckles) Remember somebody said that?
Well, since Brian's tumor poses no immediate threat,
we can schedule surgery to remove it,
and he'll be back to his old self in no time.
Well, I say we get that tumor out of him right away
before he gets any dumber. No way.
I'm never going back to my old self.
I rock like this. I'm legit.
I'm uber. I'm awesome-sauce.
Either take the tumor out of him or put one in me!
I can't stand this!
So i-if Brian doesn't have the surgery,
will he be all right?
I don't know. Is Dax Shepard all right?
Eh, seems kind of gratuitous.
My point is, Brian could have the surgery and be smart again,
or he could skip the surgery and stay dumb like this.
Well, Brian, if-if you're happy this way...
Hells to the yeah, I am!
Hey, um, I was told there would be a lollipop
at the end of this?
(quietly): Good, he doesn't know about the stickers.
I'll take two.
Brian, you're not thinking clearly, all right?
You've got to agree to this surgery.
Because right now, you're as useless as Black Widow is
to the Avengers.
So... what's your superpower?
Kicking.
Oh, right, 'cause none of us can kick.
Hey, which one of you guys can kick?
Hulk, stop being nice.
Sorry.
(singing opera music)
Hey, this isn't the Kenny Chesney concert.
No, I'm afraid that was a white lie to get you here, Brian.
This is the opera. I'm hoping that re-exposing you
to high culture will remind you of the joys of a refined mind.
Cool. I'm sitting on my foot to hold in a dump.
Please don't embarrass me here.
Pepperoni pie, extra cheese. G32.
Oh, cool. My friend Pete is here.
Pete Za. (chuckles)
Nom, nom, nom, nom, nom. That's gonna be me in, like, a minute.
Over here, bro!
Aw, I moved my foot.
Hey, this isn't the Kenny Chesney concert.
(sighs) No, Brian, this is called yoga.
Lots of smart people do it instead of going to church.
And after we get done with this, you're going to talk a lot
about being present and grounded.
You're going to be impossible to be around.
Let's get started.
BRIAN: Whoa! Schwing!
Schwing! Schwing! Schwing! Schwing!
That was from Wayne's World.
That's the sound of Wayne's boner.
Okay, before you say anything, no,
this is not the Kenny Chesney concert.
We're here to have a nice civilized dinner and to show you
that you don't have to eat all your meals in your car.
Now, we're going to start by hearing the waiter
give us the specials.
Good evening. Our first special is an almond-crusted salmon...
Hey, cram it, skinny. Give me free food
or I'm gonna tell people on Yelp there was a pube in my salad.
Free food, right away.
Okay. All right.
I forgot that Yelp is a weapon for dumb people.
You taught me something today, Bri.
That I can throw a frog a hundred feet?
(sighs) I can't change you back.
This whole endeavor was doomed to fail.
Like an Asian guy going to a salon.
Hi. I want to have my anus breached.
He's gone, Rupert.
It appears I've lost Brian to the dumb side.
So now I need you to be Brian.
Here's your collar. And here's a laptop.
Write something bad.
"It was the last day of summer
and the first day of the rest of her life."
Wow! You did that with your face!
Hey, what's this? Gaylord practice?
That's the eighth time you've asked me that today.
Listen, Brian, I've been trying to change you.
But I realize that if you're happy,
I need to accept the you that you want to be.
No matter how painful that is.
What are you doing?
Oh, my friend Terry told me you can get high from licking paint.
Who's Terry?
He's friends with Gus.
Who's Gus?
Um, Gus is Terry's friend.
It... You kind of had to be there.
For what? No story has been told!
Okay, well, I'm gonna go put on my python and walk to the park.
Brian, wait. I'm...
I'm trying to say that I accept your choice to forego surgery.
I release you into the thick mire of stupidity.
Hey, Brian, I started the car in the garage
and it's all foggy in there.
Want to go pretend we're in London?
Oh, totally! Shrimp on the barbie, huh?
(laughs) Yes!
Good Lord, if I don't do something,
his stupidity will kill him.
And then I'd lose Brian forever.
Like that dog the Russians shot into space.
He made it! Your dog is in orbit!
Is wonderful. How do we get him back now?
Oh... about that.
We do not.
Oh, my poor dog. He will die up there.
Joke on them! I find happy dog planet.
In 50 years, we all go back to Earth and bite everybody.
But now we dance!
(electronic dance music playing)
I've got to convince him to get that tumor removed
before it's too late.
Now, remember, it's England, so take long deep breaths.
Wait a second.
I've been approaching this far too intelligently.
He's an idiot, so this won't be hard at all.
Hey, Brian, you want to go see Dr. Hartman
and get that procedure where you get two wieners?
Whoa! Hell yeah!
That way, when I watch Black Swan, I can aim one
at Natalie Portman and aim the other at...
Yes, yes, yes, we all know who the other one was. Let's go.
Well, good news, Griffins: Brian is gonna be just fine.
I was able to remove his tumor.
And if anyone wants to keep it, it's here in this Tupperware.
This-this is half of a chicken cutlet.
Oh, boy. What did I have for lunch?
Oh, Brian, I'm so glad you're all right.
Thanks. But this is all kind of surreal.
I mean, being in this hospital bed,
I-I feel like the main character of As I Lay Dying
as he or she lay dying.
Oh, that's just the amount of superficial quasi-knowledge
the old Brian had.
I missed you, buddy.
Welcome back.
Thanks, Stewie.
You never gave up on me.
You knew that wasn't really me.
Yeah, well, it's no big...
I mean, I was having fun, making new friends,
getting laid all the time, sleeping like a rock,
but you made the call.
You unilaterally decided I was better off
a bitter alcoholic failure who can only hang out with a baby.
Hey. We have fun.
Hey, Lois, guess what.
I had them do that two-wiener operation on me.
You what?! (singsongy): Double trouble.
(thud) Uh-oh. That was the original.