The madness all began when, one morning, Stewie was arguing with Brian at breakfast. As per usual.
"I'm simply saying," said Stewie his eyebrow twitching with annoyance as he spooned his food into his mouth, "that in my experience, almost anything can be taken sexually if you word it right."
"You sound like Quagmire," Brian retorted, as he cut his pancakes. "I thought you loathed him."
"Oh, but I do! But as disgusting as the man is, he has a point. Go on, go on, watch this." Stewie put down his fork and pointed his finger at nothing in particular, adopting a suave expression and a deep voice. "Oh, baby, I'm going to open the door."
Brian rolled his eyes, but played along. "Okay, uh ... oh, sugar," he started, looking around for something random, "I'm going to, uh, butter the pancakes."
Stewie snickered uncontrollably, and Brian raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, come on!" said Stewie, spreading his arms. "If you just use your imagination, almost anything can be sensual! Think about it for a minute. I'll let your mind wander on the whole 'butter and pancakes' idea."
Brian sat for a minute, and in spite of himself, his brain went to work. The dog's eyes widened. "Oh. Oh God. Oh God!" he shouted, covering his eyes. "The images! Get the images out of my mind!"
Stewie chuckled evilly. "It's almost as bad as that time when Peter saw Britney Spears' private areas."
Britney Spears came out of the public restroom (barefoot, strangely enough) and sat down on a picnic table, crossing her legs.
"Heeeey, Britney," came a gleeful voice, and a shocked Mrs. Spears looked down: Peter was lying under her seat and staring upward, at the place where her underwear would normally be. Peter's eyes widened. "Oooh, hey! A peep show!"
Britney kicked Peter in the gonads. Hard.
"Hah, nice try, but unlike you I'm wearing underwear — OHHH, GOD!!" Peter cried, as the pain hit him, and he rolled away from the table, clutching at his privates. "AW, GAWD! AHH, GEEZ, that is not cool! NOT COOL! Ohhhh, awww, ooooh..."
Peter carried on like that for several minutes, oblivious to the fact that Britney had packed up and left. And she had pulled out, and used, a spare set of underwear from her purse.
Stewie leaned on the arm of the couch as he watched TV, the remote on the cushion beside him. He picked it up and flipped through a few channels. He saw a few bits: "I want to go where no man has gone before" — BZZT — "I have great news ... I'm pregnant!" WHACK — BZZT — "He committed —" BZZT — before the baby finally settled on channel 58.
"Hmm, The Simpsons? Never heard of it," said Stewie, as he watched the episode where Santa's Little Helper jumps into a dog race and ends up on top of the lead dog. "Although..." Stewie muttered, his eyes narrowing, "it does seem a bit ... derivative."
He flipped the channel again, and immediately gasped, covering his eyes. "Oh God! The Teletubbies!" Stewie squirmed uncontrollably on the cushion, trying with all his might not to watch. "Must resist — can't think — must not watch — too — addictive —"
"Stewie?" came a voice, and a furry hand scooped up the remote and hit the OFF button. Deeming it at last safe to uncover his eyes, Stewie looked up to see Brian, frowning down at him. "Oh, thank you, Brian," said Stewie, with as much dignity as he could muster, as he was still shaking uncontrollably. "Uhm — how is everything?"
"You almost got sucked into The Teletubbies again, didn't you?" said Brian, as he sat down beside Stewie. "What is it about that show that drives you mad?"
"I don't know, I don't know!" shouted Stewie, clutching his fists and glaring at the blank TV screen. "It just — demands to be watched! And I'm not one for demands, of course, but still — I can never seem to stay away!"
"Stewie, listen," sighed Brian. "It's just a TV show. There are more important things in life than those things." The dog tossed the remote away with a flourish; it flew through the air and hit Meg in the head. Unfazed, Brian continued, "I think what you need to do is get out of the house. Enjoy some fresh air, get your mind off this stuff."
"Get out of the house? I shall do no such thing!" said Stewie defiantly, crossing his arms. "You remember that time Chris went on that mountain biking trip..."
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" came Chris's scream as he plummeted down the side of the mountain, fighting desperately to get his bike back under control. "I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die! I'm not ready to die!! There's a cheesecake back in the fridge back home, it has my name all over it!!"
Several yards below, Lois and Meg had pitched their tent and were now unpacking. "Sssh," Lois whispered, and Meg turned around to see her mother pulling a plastic-wrapped piece of food out of her bag. "I swiped this from the fridge," said Lois, smiling, as she unwrapped the dessert. "This way we can get to it before Chris does. Wanna share?"
"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!" came Chris's scream again, and the boy's bike careened into the tent; Chris was tossed off and landed in a pile of canvas, knocking the cake from Lois's hands. The cheesecake flew up into the air, turned over, and landed on Meg's head with a SQUISH. The bike, meanwhile, crashed into a tree that a beaver had been working on, and the force made the bark crack and sent the tree tumbling to the forest floor, where it squashed a number of animals including Peter, who had been out exploring. "NGAAAAHH!!" came his scream.
Totally oblivious, Chris popped up from the felled tent and noticed Meg. "Oh boy! Cheesecake!" he said, munching on a few pieces off her shoulders.
"So you see," said Stewie, "fresh air is obviously not beneficial to my health. I might as well stay inside and breath regular, processed, indoor air."
"FARTING CONTEST!" came a voice, and Stewie turned to see Peter, Quagmire, Cleveland and Joe all standing together in a corner and clenching their fists. Peter ripped one first; then Cleve; then Quagmire, and finally Joe — and his was so powerful that several nearby plants drooped and died from the stench, as Brian and Stewie looked on in amazement.
"Wow, Joe, never expected that!" said Peter proudly, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
"That's what makes it so deadly," smiled Joe.
Stewie blinked. "Okay, where will we be going?" he asked nonchalantly.