Family Guy

We now return to the extended director's cut

of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

Charlie, don't forget what happened to the boy

who got everything he ever wanted. What?

He lived happily ever after.

But he did have to earn it.

Hint, hint.

Do it, Charlie!

I'm not going back to that four-person bed!

Hell, I'll do it, if you want!

No! It has to be a child!

What did he just say?

Brian, this does not seem appropriate

to watch in front of the baby.

Not appropriate?

You took me to see Magic Mike XXL.

Uhp, this one's wet.

Uh, this one, too.

Also wet.

Huh. This one's dry,

but the back of the seat in front of it is wet.

Let's put on something more child-friendly.

Time to "Too-tooty-too" with The Turtlenecks!

Oh, God, no. These guys are horrible.

Uch. All they're doing

is announcing that they play the kazoo,

and then asking if others also play the kazoo.

This doesn't seem so bad.

I mean, after all, it's a song for babies.

Yeah, but-but that's the thing.

Baby songs never tackle real baby issues.

You know, like... Like loud noises.

Or teething.

Or when Dad uses me as a lumbar pillow.

Eh... Ow.

Eh... Ow. Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

This thing works better in the car.

Well, how could they address baby issues?

Children's songs are written by adults.

And, dollars to donuts, white adults.

I-I... Who-who are you mad at, Brian?

Uch, how much time you got?

Not enough for that, but you're right.

If you want a song a baby'll like,

you've got to get a baby to write it.

Well, call John Mayer.

He's a big, fat baby.

No, I'll do it, and you can help.

Well, I... I did write

a musical about Alexander Hamilton.

Not-not that one,

but, uh, sure, I'm in.

Ooh, I'm excited.

This'll be great.

And those guys back at the factory can suck it.

I'm gonna get out of this place one day.

Hey, Butch.

Get a load of Stewie.

He says he's gonna get out of here.

You don't know me, man. I'm different.

I got ideas.

Hey, Butch, you hear that?

Stewie's got ideas.

Shut up!

I'm gonna go across that river

and make it to the city on the other side.

I'm gonna be a singer.

Bublé over here says he's gonna be a singer.

Hey, Bublé, I got a tune for you to sing.

It's called "Get Your Ass Back on the Forklift, Lunch is Over".

Hey, Stewie, don't listen to those guys.

Follow your heart.

Shut up, Butch.

You're the loser of this crew.

Hey guys, you hear that?

Butch told me to follow my heart.

Dad, can I have 50 bucks for a shamrock tattoo?

It's time.

All right, but make sure you get it

where everyone can see.

Hold on, Peter.

I-if Chris wants money for something,

maybe it's time he got a part-time job.

He could mow lawns or-or babysit.

I can't work.

I'm too young.

Well, Will Smith's little kid

works as a movie star,

even though he looks like a wet baby horse.

All right, I suppose I could get a job.

Well, maybe even my old job as the guy

racing through an airport

at the end of a romantic comedy.

Taxi! Taxi!

Hey. Are you crazy?

Crazy for love.

The most amazing girl I've ever met

leaves on a plane in five minutes.

Get in.

What the hell's going on?

This guy's in love.

Is she worth it?

She's a once-in-a-lifetime girl.

I'll give you an escort.

No charge.

Final boarding call for Ashley's flight

to stuffy New England college. Final boarding.

Ooh, whoa, whoa, whoa, child.

What's the hurry?

The love of my life, that's what.

We got a code Romeo.

Repeat, code Romeo.

If you get there on time,

there's an extra 50 in it for you.

I love this job!

Ashley, wait!

I wouldn't miss this for all the rush hour fares in Bigtown.

Chris, you came. Oh, my God!

Let me get my grandma.

Chris?

Ashley. I love you.

Oh, you're groaning at me?

You paid $19 to fly Spirit Air.

You get what you get.

All right, Brian, I've written a few songs,

all about stuff babies actually care about.

No more rainbows and unicorns.

Real baby issues.

Right, like heartworm and parvo?

No, baby stuff.

Oh, oh, human babies.

I didn't... I didn't realize there was an agenda.

Okay, look, just pay attention.

I call that "Momma Liked to Party".

Stewie, that's good. Hey, can I write one?

Yeah, we need as many as we can.

Our first gig is Saturday. It's a birthday party.

Wow, already?

How'd you book a gig so fast?

Easy. I figured out the perfect way

to get the word out to middle-aged moms.

Musical entertainment, available for parties.

Musical entertainment, available for parties.

Hey. Where you drinking that Chardonnay?

Oh, hey, Chris, how's the job hunt going?

Terrible. I can't find a job anywhere.

A lot of people seem to be turned off

by my dishonorable discharge.

What, from the Army?

No, it's a euphemism.

Oh, yucky.

Uh, you guys, I need help unloading the groceries.

My undiagnosed mom injury is flaring up.

These little things of applesauce

better not be for desserts.

Go to hell, Glenn Quagmire!

I'm sorry, but Mondays are Asian only.

Why is your last name Wong?

It's my married name.

Now I see why you're here.

Geez, what was that about?

Ah, a little scheduling mix-up.

I am just so busy, I-I don't have any time

to organize my own life.

Wait a minute, what if you had someone

to help keep you organized? Chris is looking for work.

Maybe he can help you out, be your assistant.

Huh, maybe.

You have any references?

Uh, "cowabunga," "schwing," "yada, yada, yada."

Those are pretty good references.

You're hired.

Look at that. Look at the cake.

"Happy Birthday Charlie and Uncle Craig."

And Uncle Craig's written in a different color.

Oh, poor Uncle Craig.

Hey, is that your ex-girlfriend, Olivia?

God, what's she doing here?

She was always such a nightmare.

Olivia?! Oh, my God, do I look okay?

I hate this shirt. Switch shirts. Switch shirts!