? 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! ?
- Synced and corrected by AlexandreMT - - www.addic7ed.com -
Send in Stewie, please.
Oh, I can go in now?
Oh, fantastic. He's ready. Marvelous.
Thank you, Barbara.
I hope you get those Adele tickets.
You deserve them.
She won't get them. No way.
She needed to get them, like, a month ago.
So, um, is that me over there?
- If you like. - Here we go.
I saw the kid who has cancer leave.
That must've been fun.
I don't know why his parents are still bringing him to school.
It's uncomfortable for everyone.
I've never seen him when he's not just thrown up.
Charming. This is charming.
It reminds me of the therapist's office Bethenny Frankel goes to
on The Real Housewives of New York City.
I hate her.
She looks like a wooden doll you'd find
in an Eastern European toy shop.
Oh, don't act like you don't know who she is.
Please, that doesn't impress me.
We live in the world.
We all know who Bethenny Frankel is,
whether we like it or not.
You know, I actually don't mind her.
And she's built quite a business for herself.
You have to hand it to her.
I don't mean to name-drop, but I kind of know Andy Cohen.
I guess I'm his type.
Which, of course, is very flattering.
He's outrageously successful.
He originally wanted me for The Rachel Zoe Project,
but I said no, so they went with Brad.
And now look... that could've been me on Fashion Police
with Melissa Rivers 14 times a year.
Ah, well, hindsight.
I see the tissue box is empty.
Somebody was going through those like...
well, tissues.
Mm, I hope he didn't get cancer all over this seat.
Ugh. Yuck.
Bad luck.
Although I did hear Ryan Reynolds visited him.
Something to do with Deadpool, I guess.
So it's not all horrible.
If they don't give us a day off when he dies,
I'm gonna be so pissed.
Oh, look, you got your Dunkin' Donuts coffee.
I don't know why those cups always depress me.
It's-it's like you've already given up
before the day's even started.
You might as well tattoo "Can't afford Starbucks"
on your forehead.
What do I care, though?
None of my business.
I haven't heard of any of the schools you went to,
but I'm sure they were great.
I mean, you're here, right?
And why are you here, Stewie?
Uh, that was lame.
You seem to have a lot of strong opinions.
I do. Mostly because I come across a lot of dicks.
Or I guess I should say "wankers."
We do like that word, hmm?
Or "tosser," "git," "prat,"
"sod," "chuffer."
Take your pick, eh, Dr. Pritchfield?
- "We"? - Yes, "we."
I'm not following.
- The accent. - The accent?
You speak with a British accent.
Yes, I'm aware.
Well, I've often been told that I have a British accent.
Oh?
That's-that's all you're going to say? "Oh"?
What is it you'd like me to say, Stewie?
That I have a British accent.
I apologize, but I can't hear it.
You mean to tell me you don't hear me speaking
- with a British accent right now? - No.
That's odd, because everybody else does.
Have you spent much time in Britain, then?
No, I haven't.
- Excuse me? - I said no!
But you're the absolute only person who hasn't noticed it.
Really? Everyone hears this?
Well, just the people who can understand me,
which you appear to be one of.
But that's too complicated to go into.
I'm not even sure I get it.
The point is, Stewie has a British accent.
That's, like, a known thing.
Ask anyone.
I'm afraid I don't hear it.
Yeah, you've said.
It sounds like it's very important
what other people think of you.
Oh, is-is that what it sounds like?
To me, it does, yes.
To you it does. I see, I see.
So after five minutes, you think you know me, is that it?
A little, perhaps.
I am trained, Stewie, to observe things
that give me an insight.
And, yes, I do feel I know you a bit.
You do feel you know me a bit. Mm-hmm. Okay.
All right, all right. Well, that's-that's fair.
Might I?
I'm not sure how this is going to help.
Indulge me.
Thank you.
I see you're on vacation in Rio de Janeiro in this photo
with your partner, I'm guessing.
Or is he your husband?
Yes, probably wanted to make it official, didn't you?
Never thought you'd see it in your lifetime.
Blah, blah, blah, blah.
At a quick glance, I'd say there's roughly
a 26-year age difference between the two of you.
Not quite large enough to raise eyebrows
while still giving you a younger mind to shape.
"Oh, you mean you haven't seen All About Eve,
Gypsy, Valley of the Dolls?" Et cetera.
And a younger body to make you feel more virile.
Taking into consideration the math,
he was probably born at a time
when the most popular name was...
Michael.
From the dog-eared pages of that volume of Shakespeare,
I imagine you wooed Michael with a sonnet or monologue each day.
And no one had ever done anything so romantic
as reciting Shakespeare for Michael before.
And he was smitten.
While not as physically attracted to you
as you are to him, that's okay...
You each bring something important to the relationship.
Isn't that what you believe, Dr. Pritchfield?
I see a prescription
for heart medication on that table.
My guess is you keep that at the office.
You don't want to worry Michael, you say to yourself,
even though the truth is it embarrasses you.
Your age, your mortality.
Best to keep appearing as vital as possible.
And no need to have reminders at home
of what's just around the corner, is there?
And your office is your haven,
since Michael doesn't work and is often at home,
perhaps as a result of a low-level depression
that you don't really want to get into with him.
Oh, he always planned to have a career,
but he could never settle on exactly what it was
he wanted to do.
And at first you liked having him at home
to take care of the house and plan trips.
So that's just what happened.
"And that's a job, too," he reminds you over the years.
Michael likes to travel, and he prefers the finer things.
And you'd like to give them to him, wouldn't you?
But it's a bit difficult on a child psychologist's salary
at a Rhode Island preschool, I'd imagine.
Fortunately, you don't have children,
so you do have some disposable income.
Oh, you have talked about it with other couples,
just for show, probably at dinner
with younger friends of Michael's
who are starting a family,
you know, to be part of the conversation,
to feel included.
But you said you preferred your trips
and your rescue dog named after a character
most likely from Dickens.
Ah, how accomplished and affluent
you both look in this photo.
Just the image Michael is so desperate to project.
Let's look a little closer, shall we?
Now, I see you're both wearing Ralph Lauren Purple Label
dress shirts that retail starting at $495.
But from the disfigured button holes on one
and the small discoloration on the other,
I can see you bought them at the outlet in Providence.
Probably third markdown,
in which case, $49, give or take.
Since you also have light jackets on,
I can see that you went there during summer vacation,
which is, in fact, winter in Rio,
outside of the high tourist season.
And I see that you're on the rooftop pool deck
at the Fasano Hotel in Ipanema,
the most exclusive hotel in all of Brazil.
Michael would've been dying to stay there.
Had a friend that went with his older boyfriend,
who makes a lot of money in, most likely, banking,
much to your chagrin.
But even in August, it's almost $1,000 a night.
You tell him people are starving in the streets in Brazil.
How do you justify paying those prices?
When the truth is, you simply can't afford it.
It's for another class of gay people.
The window that Michael
is always desperately peering through
and sadly on the other side of.
But you do your best.
You don't go on Airbnb, because you don't trust it,
even though Michael has stories of friends
who have found the most fabulous places.
You like a hotel.
Besides, it's more romantic, you tell him.
But when you take him to the place you're actually staying,
the one you found on TripAdvisor that was rated number 27
of all the hotels in Rio
and was having a special rate of 295 U.S. dollars a night...
Which is still not cheap, you remind him,
most people never get to visit half the places he's seen,
you tell him... you can't help but feel like a bit of a failure
as you see the look of disappointment on his face
as he enters the room.
So you decide to go to the Fasano Hotel
for dinner and drinks. No, just drinks,
once you've seen the restaurant prices online.
And once there, you can see how Michael begins looking
at all the older men who can afford
to take their boyfriends... I'm sorry, husbands...
To such luxurious hotels.
And you worry a little, that you're diminishing
in his eyes with each passing year.
But you tell yourself you're being ridiculous,
as you see Michael glancing about the rooftop deck,
looking at all the young men,
men that would be 20 years younger than even Michael,
men that you're invisible to.
But he isn't yet, not completely,
and you're jealous and you loathe yourself for it.
But Michael wants a photo,
and he says, "Let's take a selfie."
But you say, "Let's ask someone to take one of us"
and make some tired joke about selfies that only you laugh at,
wishing that you could take it out of the air
as soon as you've said it, as it's just one more indicator
that you're older than everybody here.
So Michael calls over a young man wearing a tiny swimsuit
to take the photo and makes a crude joke that embarrasses you.
But the young man laughs,
and he and Michael share a moment that you're not part of.
And you feel humiliated and unseen.
Which explains Michael's joyful grin
and your slightly disconnected half-smile.
And you've posted the photo on Facebook,
and Michael's posted it to his 86 followers on Instagram...
You don't know how that one works...
To at least give the impression,
in your Ralph Lauren shirts,
holding your $20 cocktails,
that you're both way more successful than you are.
But it makes you feel a little dirty,
the lengths you have to go to in order to keep Michael happy.
And every time you glance at this picture,
you wonder, "How long before he leaves me?"
See? I guess we both know each other a bit.
You seem like a very lonely little boy.
Oh, my God, I am!
I'm so lonely!
Oh!
You can see inside my soul!
Oh, God!
Thank you.
Thank you, Barbara.
Are you all right now, Stewie?
Yes, I think.
You're very kind.
She's a gem, that one, you know.
I hope you appreciate her.
Try taking some deep breaths.
I do this sometimes in yoga.
I take yoga.
I have a sick body.
I do... I do feel a bit better.
But still lonely.
I'm sorry. It keeps spilling out.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
It seems like you're keeping a lot bottled up inside.
I am. Nobody here likes me, Dr. Pritchfield.
I try to fit in with the other boys
and talk about things like dirt and shapes,
but they won't play with me.
And I-I don't have any friends,
and I have nobody to eat lunch with.
It's very interesting you'd say that you have no friends,
Stewie, especially considering the reason you're here.
Oh. That.
Shall we talk about it?
I don't know what there is to talk about.
You pushed a classmate down the stairs.
It was an accident. Haven't you ever seen Showgirls?
Yes, of course I have. But according to Tyler,
it was no accident.
Well, I guess it's my word against his, then.
It is creating a bit of a con-trah-versy.
- Excuse me? - A con-trah-versy.
- I don't know what that is. - Con-trah-versy?
"Con-trah-versy"?
Oh! Oh, "con-troversy."
Apologies. Those of us with British accents
pronounce it "con-trah-versy."
But how would you know that?
Yeah, how would I know that?
Look, Dr. Pritchfield...
"Cee-cil," if I may?
It's pronounced "Cess-il."
- Damn it! - But, again, how would you know?
- It's not as if you're... - Okay, okay, we got it.
I only pushed Tyler down the stairs because I like him
and I'm afraid he won't like me back.
And-and not like him-like him. I'm not gay.
This whole thing isn't because I'm gay, so-so calm down.
I can already see you lickin' your chops.
I'm sure you live for the coming out sessions.
If anything, I'm less gay than I used to be.
Not that anybody at this school would care.
But do I think that Grant Gustin and I would make
the most adorable Instagram couple?
Yes. Yes, we would.
Grant Gustin plays the Flash on the CW, if you were wondering.
Because, you know, most people over 70
probably don't know who he is.
Think young Anthony Perkins.
Ah. Oh.
There we go.
Anyway, "fluid" is something I hear
being tossed around a lot now.
But I'm confident in my heterosexuality.
- That's a word, right? - Yes, of course.
Okay, just sounded strange for a second.
It must be difficult for you, Stewie, being so intelligent.
It is.
Whew! Just that...
just that acknowledgment.
You know, sometimes I don't know where I fit in.
I just... I just want to be like everybody else,
but nobody's interested in the things that I'm interested in.
They think I'm weird.
And I'm so anxious all the time,
but I... I always put on a brave face and try to hide it,
and I... I give myself these excruciating migraines.
I actually have way more hair than this,
but I pull it out.
I'm sorry, now I'm getting all worked up again.
I'm worse than Bethenny Frankel on her period.
I don't why I keep bringing her up.
I j... it's just I think about her a lot.
Well, what are the things you're interested in, Stewie?
Me? Well, I like to talk about world domination.
Some people don't think I talk about it enough anymore,
but mind your own beeswax is what I say to them.
I also like to talk about musicals.
It's hard to find someone who can converse
on one of those topics, let alone both.
And I really, really, really want to see Hamilton,
but by the time it gets here, I'll be 30.
I think I'm still the only one in town who's even
heard of it, and it's been out for over two years.
Which just makes me even more depressed.
How do you live in a place like that?
Quahog. What a pile of garbage.
And I've even memorized some of the songs,
but I have no one to sing it for, and I'm really good.
- Do you want to hear it? - Oh. Um...
Y-You mean now?
I really... I really need you to hear me sing Hamilton.
I'm so good. Why can't I be on Broadway?
I want to be on Broadway.
I want the world to fall in love with me eight times a week.
I'd love to hear you sing.
Okay, okay, now I'm nervous.
If it's not good this time, just remember it was good at home.
Don't look at me while I start.
It's hard.
It's a lot of words very fast.
Like Gilbert and Sullivan, but for Hispanics.
? How does a bastard orphan ?
? Son of a whore ?
? And a Scotsman dropped in the middle ?
? Of a forgotten spot in the Caribbean ?
? By providence impoverished in squalor grow up to be ?
? A hero and a scholar? ?
? The ten dollar Founding Father without a father ?
? Got a lot farther by working a lot harder ?
? By being a lot smarter ?
? By being a self-starter ?
? By 14, they placed him in charge of a trading charter ?
? And every day while slaves were being slaughtered ?
? And carted away across the waves ?
? He struggled and kept his guard up ?
? Inside, he was longing for something to be a part of ?
? The brother was ready to beg, steal ?
? Borrow or barter ?
? Then a hurricane came and devastation reigned ?
? Our man saw his future drip ?
? Dripping down the drain, put a pencil to his temple ?
? Connected it to his brain ?
? And he wrote his first refrain ?
? A testament to his pain... ?
? Well, the word got around ?
? And they said, "This kid is insane, man" ?
? Took up a collection just to send him to the mainland ?
? Get your education ?
? Don't forget from whence you came ?
? And the world's gonna know your name ?
? What's your name, man? ?
? Alexander Hamilton ?
? My name is Alexander Hamilton ?
? And there's a million things I haven't done ?
? But just you wait, just you wait. ?
That's all I've learned so far.
Well done!
You're a very special little boy, Stewie.
I saw you check your watch.
That was a bit emotional for you, wasn't it?
But it felt good. Like-like, I got so much out, you know?
- Would you like a cup of tea? - I would love a cup of tea.
It's hot already?
Yes, it's an electric kettle.
We don't have that at our house.
My mother boils water in an old Jiffy Pop tin.
She's just a useless old slut.
Hey, my hiccups are gone!
If you liked Tyler and you wanted to be friends with him,
then why did you push him down the stairs?
Oh. I... I don't know.
Can I tell you a story about another little boy?
Um, okay.
When I was your age, I grew up in London
- when the Blitz had just ended. - Good God, how old are you?
Our neighborhood was reduced to rubble.
And in the chaos, I searched desperately for my parents.
Mum. Mum.
Mother. Mother.
Mum. Mummy.
Mummy. Mummy. Mummy.
Mummy. Mum. Mother.
- Don't. - Don't what?
You know what.
But Mother was nowhere to be found.
And neither was Father.
You see, I was the sole survivor of my family.
So I was sent to live with an aunt in Cornwall.
But she had too many mouths of her own to feed, so...
I was next sent to a distant cousin in Northumberland.
But she didn't care for children,
and off again I went,
this time to an orphanage in Gloucestershire.
But they didn't like little boys
from London in Gloucestershire.
Or from Cornwall or Northumberland.
So I pretended I was from Shropshire, of all places.
And eventually, I became friends with six boys:
Sebastian, Declan, Flibbit, Pipadoodle,
Scudger and Nonsenseword.
And together, we traveled...
Okay, before you say another name of anything,
I'm going to have to stop you.
- Yes? - I'm only here for 40 minutes,
and this is already a really long story
with a lot of locations.
And I don't feel like waiting to see how it links up to my thing.
The point of the story is,
I know what it's like to feel alone
and to have to pretend that you're something you're not.
Oh, and also, how my first kiss was with a Nazi.
See? We didn't need to go back 1,000 years for that.
And I don't pretend I'm something I'm not.
- I never said that. - You just said it.
I might have implied it.
I suppose the question is why you feel the need to do that.
I... I don't know.
I-I guess I hadn't realized it before.
Maybe I'm worried nobody's going to like me.
Lois left a tissue in the dryer again.
And these are my only pants. How sad is that?
When I was in the orphanage, my Sunday shoes were potatoes.
Well, you win that one.
Look, I'm different, Dr. Pritchfield.
I'm not like the other kids.
I realized that when you picked up that photo
and decimated my entire life.
Sorry. It's kind of a parlor trick of mine.
Have you ever thought of just being yourself...
Your real self... And then see what happens?
I... I don't think I know how.
Everything about me is this carefully-constructed persona
designed to keep people at arm's length.
This isn't even how I really talk.
This is. This is how I talk.
The accent is-is nothing more than an affectation,
a-a coat of armor to get me through the day,
just an image I cultivated so I could feel special.
Wow. What a relief.
For once, to talk with my real voice
without the... the burden
of trying to sound like someone I'm not.
- What do you mean by that? - Well, this is my real voice.
I don't hear a difference.
How about now? You freakin' hear that?
What about now? Sound different? Giggity?
What about now?
Coming up now, this voice.
Ahoy. It's me.
And I'm a gay alien.
I'm sorry. That just all sounds like the same person.
Well, Stewie, that was quite a breakthrough we just had.
How do you feel?
I feel... relieved,
like a weight has been lifted.
I-I can finally be myself.
I like this Stewie.
I hope he stays for a while.
I-I've never been vulnerable to anyone before.
You're the only one who's ever met the real me.
Well, I'm honored, and now,
the rest of the world is going to meet him.
Yes. Yes, that's right.
There's no going back now!
I'm gonna talk to Tyler. I'm gonna make friends.
I'm gonna be a normal boy!
Yes, you are.
You're finally going to be just like everybody else.
Wha-what? Say-say that again.
You're finally going to be just like everybody else.
But... But I don't...
I don't want to be like everybody else.
What do you mean?
I-I don't want to be like them.
Like any other zero in this miserable town, like my family.
I won't do it! I don't want to be like any other person!
Like you skiing in...
Please don't pick up that photo.
I want to remain what I've always been...
Superior, brilliant, special.
Oh, God, what was I thinking?!
I'm never going to lift the veil, ever.
Nobody will ever know the real me.
My accent's back, by the way.
It was a very dramatic moment.
If you say so.
Now, let's talk about...
Stewie, can you hand me my heart medication, please?
Of course!
Except...
there's one person that does know the real me,
and that's you.
I don't understand.
Why aren't you getting my medication?
Mm, yeah.
Listen, you're not gonna like this.
Please, there's not much time.
I'd like to, really I would, and you were super helpful,
and this... this kind of seems like a crummy way to repay you,
but... I'm not going to get it.
Is this because I made you wait?
It's because I can't have anyone know the real me.
And so, you must die.
I guess that's what happens in therapy, though.
No, it's not!
Ah, you're right. That didn't make much sense.
Not to sound ghoulish,
but any indication how much longer you're going to linger?
I'm not sure.
I think it's different for everyone.
Yeah, because you're still pretty chatty, is...
is why I'm wondering.
Don't do this, Stewie!
It will stay with you forever.
Mm, yeah, not worried. For me, this is kind of no bigs.
Barbara! Barbara!
Oh, didn't you hear her go to lunch?
It was like an orchestra of squeaky chair springs
and groaning floorboards playing her out.
So... this is how you leave me.
Sowwy.
"Eyes, look your last!
"Arms, take your last embrace.
"And lips, O, you,
"the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss,
a dateless bargain to engrossing death!"
Macbeth?
Romeo and Juliet.
But I wouldn't expect you to know,
since you're not in any way...
British.
I feel less bad.
You've reached the office of Dr. Cecil Pritchfield.
Please leave a mess-age.
That one can't be right.
It's Michael. I want a divorce.
This is not your day.
Hey, you okay?
Yes, Rupert just had a nightmare, that's all.
Go sleep on the floor where you belong, whore!
- All right, well... - Hey... hey, Bri?
Yeah?
Would you mind maybe sleeping with me tonight?
- Sure. - Thanks.
Good night, Stewie.
'Night, Brian.
- Brian? - Yeah?
I did something awful.
Do you want to talk about it?
No.
- Synced and corrected by AlexandreMT - - www.addic7ed.com -