I MIGHT KILL MY PETAH

I might...

It was midnight, and Lois was alone. Everyone was in bed-- Stewie in his room, Meg and Chris in their own. Brian was somewhere in the house fantasizing about future relationships. While this quiet night should have called for relaxation and comfort, something was amiss. Lois felt it as she stared at the ceiling of her bedroom.

Where was Peter?

He said he was going to the Clam with Joe and Quagmire (Cleveland was still on a trip to get milk). He should have come home hours ago. Lois wouldn't even care if he was totally wasted. If anything, that made it easier for her. She wouldn't have to deal with his shenanigans for long before he passed out, and the quiet room was a godsend. However, she couldn't let herself enjoy this sense of solitary comfort. Peter had done something bad and she could feel it in her bones. She tried to think. They wouldn't still be at the bar, and Quagmire was probably either thinking about deep philosophical things or getting laid. Cleveland wasn't around. And Joe... who knows what he was up to. Did he work this late at night? Lois didn't know.

She tried to think about anyone else he could be with. Quagmire's dad was out of town. Peter would have no reason to visit her parents. Unless he was dead or something (no one would bother. His mass was too immense for anyone to bother trying to rob or kidnap him), there was only one place he could be.

THAT BITCH.

Lois sat up in her bed, anger pulling at her eyes. She gritted her teeth and clenched her hands into fists. That whore was the only other option. She had not only tried to beat Lois at everything she did, no-- she had gone further than that. She forces Lois to confront her very own breaking point. That evil, shit-ass bitch could off herself for all Lois cared. She was a sly, manipulative ass who always tried to fuck everything up. She was horrible to her own husband and she knew it. And now, she was stealing HER PETAH.

Lois got up, not bothering to change out of her nightgown. There was no time. She headed downstairs into the living room and brushed her fingers along her piano's keys. They sang softly at her touch and she sighed. What about the kids? Her precious little Stewie, her naive yet sweet son Chris-- and Meg. Brian was just kinda there, but he still counted. What would they do? She thought for a moment, stopping mid-step. All her life, she had done everything for someone else. Impressed her parents, did everything for Peter, and gave birth and cared for kids. She always said she was lucky. But is that just what everyone else wanted her to do? To have a loving husband, a good family, and therefore a good life? Perhaps an act of selfishness is what she deserved. Even still, she thought about it another way; if she did have the ideal life, then this crusty, shit-covered asshole of a human was trying to take that from her. She would not stand for it.

She would not get away with this. Petah was hers.

BONNIE WILL PAY FOR WHAT SHE HAS DONE.