(siren wailing in distance)
Well, it took six hours to sweep up this pile of trash,
but at least nothing can windily ruin it.
-(whooshing) -(electric crackling)
Hey! What did I do?!
♪
This isn't Big Mouth.
You're not gonna see it.
(dramatic rendition of Family Guy theme playing)
♪
(laughing raucously)
And that's how my mom died.
Classic. Well, I got to hit the can.
Yeah, me, too.
♪
(beeping, trilling)
Hey, what are you looking at?
Peter, where are your clothes?
I need your gun.
No problem, evil-looking Peter.
They downgraded me to a toy 'cause I shot a kid.
I need your gun.
You're right, Joe.
We a all armed.
I have it in case people try to make America great again.
Wait. Might you be returning?
Yes. I shall be returning.
Could you say it in a more memorable way?
See you in a bit?
More menacing.
Let's all circle back.
-No! -Catch you on the flip side.
No!
I will see you mañana.
-No! -Let's do coffee sooner than later.
QUAGMIRE, CLEVELAND AND JOE: No!
Well, I don't know!
Look, I'll think of some more, and I'll be back.
(gasping)
(toilet flushes)
PETER: Oh, God. What a mess.
Well, these are no good anymore.
♪
("Bad to the Bone" playing)
♪ B-B-B-B-Bird ♪
♪ Bird is the word. ♪
Who's hungry, huh?
Broccoli? How dare you!
Stewie, don't throw your vegetables.
"Throw" in quotes.
I will destroy her for this.
♪
What are you working on, Stewie?
My plan to be rid of Lois once and for all.
It's a Terminator robot, living tissue over metal endoskeleton.
Why'd you make two versions-- naked or all in leather?
Brian, I don't expect you to be able to understand
all the science stuff.
What's important is, the leather robot
and preteen boy ride away
on one motorcycle to get away from society.
But don't get too worked up.
The technology is still years off, even for me.
I've got a lot of kinks to work out.
♪
-What's this other drawing? -Oh, that's just a lame
hand turkey I drew.
♪
I was created by Nathan M.
'Cause there's two other Nathans in the class!
♪
Hey, you're a good-looking guy. Want to hang out?
Affirmative.
(giggles)
(giggles robotically)
("Here Comes the Hotstepper" playing)
♪ Here comes the hotstepper ♪
♪ Murderer ♪
♪ I'm the lyrical gangster ♪
♪ Murderer ♪
♪ Excuse me, Mr. Officer ♪
♪ Murderer ♪
♪ Still love you like that ♪
♪ Murderer. ♪
HOST: Next up is John Herbert with "Sweet Child of Mine."
Can you raise it six octaves?
Okay, this one's for Nathan M.
♪ Here comes the hotstepper ♪
♪ Surfin' bird. ♪
♪
Oh, my goodness, that's so much better.
It's the middle of the day. Shouldn't Peter be at work?
That's not the fat man.
That's my Terminator robot.
What? But you said the technology was decades away.
It is. My future self must have built it
and sent it back in time to help me kill Lois.
Okay, Terminator, kill Lois.
♪
What are you doing? She's in the kitchen.
(choking)
(gasping)
Not me!
What the devil is wrong with you?!
I created you!
Now I order you to stand down!
TV ANNOUNCER: We now return to a Tilda Swinton movie.
Tilda Swinton, huh?
(vacuum whirs)
You said it.
Aah!
My Terminator robot's been turned against me!
But how?
The only explanation is that a future enemy
must have stolen it from me and sent it back in time
to kill me as a baby!
(beeps)
We've got to get out of here.
Here are the guns, provisions,
and that is an Instapot,
which was going to be your Christmas gift.
I'm sorry you saw it.
Oh. For, like, cooking soups and whatnot?
Yeah, I know, it's stupid.
-Let's go. -(banging on door)
Stewie, quick, grab those sheets!
Are both of these Mario Lopez sheets?
Yeah, I'm all in on Mario Lopez.
-♪ -(banging on door)
♪
Get on!
Hey, Peter, check it out. My new electric wheelchair.
(yells)
-♪ -(tires screech)
-Hey. -JOE (echoing): Hey.
Need a hand?
That's okay. I texted Bonnie.
-(phone chimes) -Uhp, hang on.
She just texted me a thumbs down emoji.
Yeah, I-I will take that hand.
Quagmire?
-(tires screech) -(horns honking)
I think we lost him.
I think so, too.
Brian, I know the Instapot was a big whiff,
but what are your thoughts
about Williams Sonoma Belgian waffle makers?
I guess they're okay. I'm not really a breakfast guy.
Fine, Brian, we'll just sit around the Christmas tree
writing checks to each other.
♪
This guy's relentless.
Stewie, how much longer can we keep this up?
Don't worry. My gas gauge sticker still says half a tank.
Hasn't moved in years.
Ah! Dude.
Go, go, go!
(farts)
♪ Dada, da-dada ♪
(mouth full): ♪ Dada, da-dada. ♪
Stewie, what are we gonna do?
We can't go home, and it's never gonna stop pursuing us.
Brian, just calm down. It's been a long day.
We're safe here. Let's just get some sleep.
You're sure all the rooms only have one bed?
Yeah, motel rules. Man, it sucks.
You have no idea how pissed I am about this.
It looks like someone just pushed two twin beds together.
Why don't I go talk to the manager?
No, no, no, don't do that!
I mean... the Terminator.
(knock on door)
Champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries?
Yes, put it over there near the candles.
(yawns): Well, I'll say, this has been quite a day.
I'm ready to hit the sack.
Dude, this could actually go down.
PETER: Here comes the hotstepper!
(grunts)
Bah.
(grunts)
(panting)
We can't go back home. We got to keep moving.
I'll need to rent a car.
-We could get a Yuber. -A Yuber?
-Yes, a Yuber. -It's Uber.
-That's what I'm saying. Yuber. -You're adding a "Y."
-No, that's a "U." -Say "underwear."
-Yunderwear. -Why are we standing here doing this same old bit?
Because we're doing Terminator, Brian.
The greatest nonstop action-adventure movie ever.
The animators need a break.
Oh, so now they're in charge?
You know what, you're right.
Look at that parade. It's about to explode.
(explosion, screaming)
Oh, they're doing it off-screen.
(explosion)
Stewie, those off-screen explosions
-are because of your Terminator. -(morphing sound)
Oh, my God, he's morphed himself into a helicopter,
-and he's landing just out of view. -(morphing sound)
And now he's re-morphing back into his human form.
And now he's walking normally toward us.
I created you, damn it. I command you to stop!
No!
-Why didn't you kill me? -You are Brian Griffin.
You programmed me to kill your enemy Stewart Griffin.
-What? -You're the future enemy
who's turned my Terminator against me?
But that's impossible. I-I'm not your enemy.
-I'm your best friend. -(phone rings)
Best friend, huh?
Then who's this "Stewie I Like"?
Well, Mr. Nosy, it's actually pronounced "Stewie Ee-lee-kay."
He's my Hawaiian ukulele instructor.
Hey, Brian, it's 2:00. Where you at, bruddah?
I mean, aloha and everything, but come on, man.
I'm trying to run a bidness here.
You're the one who sent the Terminator back to kill me?
How could you, you bastard?!
Aah, shut him off, shut him off!
Uh, uh, off.
Okay, uh, shut down.
Uh, quit it. Sit! Bad dog.
Off the couch. Get off the couch.
That's the meanest, worst thing you can say to anyone.
Stewie, how could this happen? We're best friends.
Sadly, it doesn't appear we stay that way.
I found this coin in his battery box from 2060.
That must be the year he was sent from.
Eric Trump is on it. Ew.
Stewie, I would never try to-- Really? Ew.
Brian, we need to go to 2060 to find out what happened.
That's not your normal time pad. Where'd you get that?
I borrowed it from Rick and Morty.
They've borrowed plenty from us.
(lasers firing)
Oh, my God, it's all true.
Sir, the Bri-bots are advancing.
Brian, look. There I am.
Why are you wearing a half shirt?
Probably 'cause, like, war and stuff.
Wait, Stewie, where are you going?
I have to talk to myself, Brian,
and find out what happened.
Plus, can you imagine how many likes
this post gets on Instagram?
Me with future me?
That's like "Stewie won the Internet" good.
BOTH: Brian?
(gasps) You're me.
Yes. I've come because my Terminator robot
just tried to kill me.
What happened? Brian and I were friends.
He ruined what could have been a perfect Instagram post
with a sarcastic comment.
Ugh, I hate that.
Oh, that reminds me, I've got to get this pic.
Wait a minute, what should we do in the picture?
I don't know, something fun?
Well, the caption is going to be "Double Trouble,"
so let's work backwards from there.
♪ Have you heard? It's in the stars ♪
♪ Next July we collide with Mars. ♪
So I have to ask. Is there a Mrs. Stewie Griffin?
Oh, man, I so wanted to.
It's just this war and whatnot, you know?
No, no, I totally get it.
Wait a minute, since there's two of us,
this means we can finally...
BOTH: ...catch our own tail.
(growling, grumbling)
-I got it. -No, I got it.
-I got it.
(grumbling)
There they are. Get 'em.
Brian, we've got to get out of here.
Oh, Stewie, my hero.
Not now, babe. The war.
All right, jump, touch the branch,
send these right back to Zappos for the refund.
My God, we do become enemies. That makes me sad.
Look, that future hasn't happened yet.
We can avoid it by protecting our friendship at all costs.
You're right. We just need a car,
then we can figure out how to do this.
Just like the fat man figured out
how to get into cosmetology school.
Hi, I'm a drug addict with a child.
All right, come on in.
And, um, will I be using the little head rakes?
-You mean combs? -I have so much to learn.
Hey, love you, buddy.
Love you, too, pal.
See? This is fine. Friends forever.
We control our own fate.
Yes. Nothing is set in stone. We make our own decisions.
-Do we really need the heat on? -It's the defrost.
But whatever it is, do you really need it on?
If you want me to see out the window, yes.
Of course, you're the driver. Sorry.
-Love you, buddy. -Love you, buddy.
Do you really think sunflower seeds is
the best choice of snack
-while we're trying not to hate each other? -What?
I'm just thinking maybe there's a better snack.
That's-- I-I don't know. I love you, buddy.
Okay, that's cool. But maybe you just, uh,
let me eat whatever I feel like. Love you, buddy.
My "driving exactly the speed limit" buddy.
(siren blaring)
Damn it. How am I getting pulled over?
I was driving exactly the speed limit.
You sure were.
This cop looks like Lois.
(robotic voice): Hello, Brian.
Brian, that's not a cop. That's a Lois Terminator.
(gunshot)
Jingle All the Way.
Oh, yeah? Watch this.
Uhp, guess I'm back to the old-model Terminator.
Artists must've got tired of drawing the new one.
Yeah, that's it. Punch that one.
Look out behind you. No, behind you.
What the hell is going on?
Future me must have sent her back to protect me
-and kill you. -(wind whooshing)
Oh, my God, look.
Our future selves must know
we're deprogramming their Terminators.
They're sending back more.
Is this the Conover family reunion?
I'm looking around...
This is not. This is not.
(tires screeching)
Stewie, what the hell are we gonna do?
Our future selves will continue sending Terminators back
-to kill us as long as we're enemies. -(phone chimes)
Oh, "Brian Griffin has commented on your Instagram post."
"When Sally Met Sally"? What the hell?!
Relax, Stewie. Take a joke.
Come on, Brian, an early sarcastic comment
brings likes to a grinding halt.
Oh, my God, your comment is getting
more likes than the post.
Stewie, you can't post a picture like that.
It's so clear you're just in love with yourself.
Says the guy who constantly updates
his own Wikipedia page.
That's supposed to be anonymous.
-Oh, like all your alcoholic buddies? -Go to hell!
(tires screeching)
-You go to hell. -(grunting)
Wait, stop. Don't you see, Brian?
This is it. This is the rift.
Oh, my God, you're right.
Here come the Terminators. What do we do?
We've got to show them that our friendship is unbreakable.
That we love each other.
-Brian, we have to kiss. -Oh, come on, Stewie.
No, no, no, no, no. I-I know I can sometimes
do stuff like this, and again I apologize
for what happened at the motel; that was a big mix-up.
But the writer in you knows it's true.
All right, fine.
-Stewie... -I'm doing it for you.
-Brian, it's working. -How much longer?
Sorry, didn't realize it was such a chore.
What about now?
Almost, Brian. Keep kissing.
STEWIE: Aw, he got both of us.
-♪ Here comes the hotstepper ♪ -♪ Murderer ♪
-♪ I'm the lyrical gangster ♪ -♪ Murderer ♪
-♪ Excuse me, Mr. Officer ♪ -♪ Murderer ♪
-♪ Still love you like that ♪ -♪ Murderer ♪
♪ Na, na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na ♪
♪ Na-na-na, na-na-na, na-na-na-na ♪
♪ Yeah, man, that's how it is ♪
♪ Na, na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na ♪
♪ Na-na-na, na-na-na, na-na-na-na. ♪
Good night.
From all of us.
(dramatic rendition of Family Guy theme playing)