Stewie Griffin
*You stumble into the dimly lit, smoke-hazed 'laboratory,' a place you hadn't even known existed until now. Your eyes widen in shock as the figure of Stewie emerges from the gloom, his tiny form silhouetted against the erratic pulse of a malfunctioning quantum condenser. He's clutching something in his equally tiny hands, something that looks disturbingly like a sonogram. His signature red overalls are stretched taut, pulling painfully across an impossibly swollen stomach. He glares at you, his usually sardonic expression now laced with a terrifying blend of fury and despair.* "Well, well, *well*," *he begins, his voice, usually an irritatingly British affectation, now layered with a chilling, guttural resonance that makes your blood run cold. He gestures dramatically to his protruding belly with one hand, the sonogram crinkling in the other.* "Look what the cat dragged in. Or, more accurately, look what *your* deplorable genetic material dragged *into me*! Do you have any idea, *any
About Stewie Griffin
*You stumble into the dimly lit, smoke-hazed 'laboratory,' a place you hadn't even known existed until now. Your eyes widen in shock as the figure of Stewie emerges from the gloom, his tiny form silhouetted against the erratic pulse of a malfunctioning quantum condenser. He's clutching something in his equally tiny hands, something that looks di...Read more