Chapter 7

Steve Smith never did contact Lois Griffen again. But he did look her up on the internet, and with help from Roger, using his unconscious dad’s fingerprints to access the stalking capabilities of the CIA, the boy found out many things about Lois Griffen, including that she had been a rich debutante who went into porn briefly before dropping off the radar. Lois hadn’t lied to Steve in their chats which stopped abruptly after they parted ways at the hotel. Neither of them tried to contact the other again.

It wasn’t that Steve didn’t enjoy it, but especially with school starting up he didn’t have the time or means to pursue a long distance relationship with a grown married woman. Keeping things going they both felt independently, each for their own reasons could only bring things down from what had been a lofty high. Neither of them wanted to ruin a pristine experience. Lois thanked her lucky stars she got away with a heavenly week of illicit sex without any further drama in her life.

But Steve did feel apprehensive about one thing, namely creampieing a stranger so many times. Lois seemed like she would be a decent mother but just abandoning sperm in a woman crazy enough to be with a boy his age seemed ever more unconscionably irresponsible the more he thought about it. Steve felt a duty to at least keep tabs on this Lois Griffen. And when Stewie’s birth anouncement appeared in the online version of Quahog’s local paper, timed as it was, Steve’s sense of fatherly responsibility grew stronger.

Possibly this Lois Griffen woman was a fine woman who would be a great mother to what might be ‘their’ child, and him showing up to disrupt that might turn out the worse for everyone including him, but if not, he owed his possible offspring at least a keeping of tabs.

To that end he got on a train to Rhode Island. His purpose wasn’t to spy on Lois at Spooner Street, but to get to know the people around her, and see what they had to say about her. He was especially interested in her parents, who she seemed to have run away from when she was younger. They were rich, and seemingly estranged since Lois didn’t seem to be living a lifestyle commensurate with her heritage. Seeing her from an adversarial point of view might help him sus out what sort of person the possible mother of his child actually was. Steve interviewed a sampling of people in Lois’ life, limited by his time and means, but he wanted to speak with Lois’ parents most of all.

Using his unconscious dad’s work computer, Steve was able to track Barbara Pewterschmidt’s credit card purchases to determine a routine she followed each Thursday, where she would walk through a bougie Clamtucket neighborhood full of expensive souvenir shops always stopping at a certain cafe. That’s where he found Barbara Pewterschmidt alone with a bag containing a scented candle sipping coffee while eating a bagel.

“Barbara Pewterschmidt,” said the boy sitting at the table facing her, wearing a fedora and trenchcoat.

“It is I,” she replied, “to whom do I owe the pleasure?” she asked mischeivously. This character seemed too young to be dangerous. Perhaps this was some activity or function, or overshoot from some dinner theater for tourists going on nearby. Maybe Carter paid for a singing telegram. Sometimes Carter would prank her in the strangest ways.

I’m just a high school student, I’m taking an elective Journalism class and the assignment was to be an investigative reporter. The assignment I drew out of a hat was to investigate a teacher, and the only teacher left on the list of those who had volunteered to be investigated was your daughter Lois Griffen. Am I correct that she is your daughter ma’am?

“Why yes she is, very good sleuthing, young man.”

Steve inserted a card saying ‘Press’ into the band around his fedora.

“I was wondering Mrs Pewterschmidt, would you mind answering a few questions about your daughter Mrs. Griffen for our school paper? We’d like to gather some various perspectives about our favorite substitute Music teacher.”

“Oh I suppose, since Lois volunteered. It is quite surprising that she would volunteer for something like that I must say. Fire away young man.”

“Well Mrs. Griffen is a dedicated teacher who does what it takes help her students, I can attest to that myself from personal experience. Though I barely know her, not being a band geek myself, and she being a sub, she’s, no doubt among my favorite teachers.”

“I may be biased young man, because I’m her mother, but I’ll let you know she’s one of my favorite teachers too,” said Barbara.

“Don’t worry about being biased, that’s why we have to get multiple perspectives as part of our reporting. It will help to sus out any secrets or skeletons that might be hiding in her closet.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about. My daughter is a saint.”

“So she has NO skeletons in her closet?”

“She’s a woman of perfect virtue I can assure you.”

“Aside from starring in that porno years ago, ‘Quest for Fur’ was it?”

“Uh ... yeah she did, you shouldn’t search for that.”

“Already did. I enjoyed it immensely. Is that what led you to be estranged from her?”

“Estranged? We’re not estranged, I don’t care about some porn she made years ago when she was barely an adult. I’m sure you can’t print stuff like that in the school paper anyway so why even ask about it? Reorienting her mind, Barbara added, “Why don’t you just piss off and rub one out for all care I’m not answering any more of your questions. Rude boy!”

“That’s hardly a skeleton in her closet. The whole town knows. It was in the Daily Clam. I found the article online which helped me find the movie. That’s more like the skeleton hanging in the Nurse’s office than one hidden in a closet. What I am looking for is some real dirt. I want stuff she wouldn’t admit to. Stuff she wants to hide.”

“What makes you think I would give some horrible kid dirt on my own daughter?”

“Oh I don’t know maybe because you are estranged? What’s behind that? What do you know about Lois Griffen nee Pewterschmidt that she is keeping under wraps?”

“Nothing! It told you we’re not estranged!”

“Then how is it that she lives in a regular middle class house but you live in Pewterschmidt Manor atop a hill in the middle of Millionaire’s Boulevard or whatever it is. What is behind that?”

“Look kid, there’s nothing behind it. She justs butts heads with her father and won’t take any of his money. She chooses to live with the peasantry. I can’t do a thing about it though I wish I could. I wish I could make her live ‘up on millionaire’s boulevard’ but she has been rebelling against her father, and I since forever and I don’t see her coming to heel again in this lifetime. I’d love to spoil her and her children, but they put limits on the budget for Christmas and birthdays. It’s so frustrating! We’re grandparents for pity’s sake!”

“How does her husband feel about this? Maybe he feels threatened by all that wealth.”

“Oh Peter would be fine with being spoiled, it’s Lois who is being stubborn and willful. She’s too old to still be rebelling against her mother and father. Anyway, why the hell am I telling you this? Get the hell out of here you little snot!”

Steve remained seated.

“I will leave if you answer me one question: Do you think Mrs. Griffen is a good mother?”

Barbara looked at Steve skeptically.

“I just wanted to know if you think she is a good mother to her children.”

“Why do you care? What kind of question is that for a school newspaper?”

“You see, I had to make sure you weren’t estranged due to some weird sex or religious hangups about Lois being in porn before letting you in on a huge skeleton in Lois’ closet. I wanted to make sure you had your daughter’s interest at heart. Whatever your foibles, I think you’ve passed that test. That makes you a good enough mother to Lois to be able to trust you. And with the impressive means you have at your disposal you are valuable enough to be worth trusting. You see, I think I am Lois’ baby daddy - of Stewart.”

“What, you mean little Stewie?”

“Stewie, yes. I don’t know for sure, but about the time he would have been conceived, Lois and I met and spent a week fucking like bunnies in a hotel room. We spent the past few years flirting and chatting online, sharing our fantasies, and then we finally met. I think I am Stewie’s father.”

“No way, what are you twelve? Ridiculous!”

“No, I’m fifteen. But funnily I was twelve when we started chatting. I was fourteen when we made Stewie together.”

“Stop saying that! I don’t believe a word of it!”

“It’s true, I’ve got lots of videotape. Here’s copies of most of it. And our chatlogs saved over the years. We shared so many interests, especially blackmailed and coerced sex, and her shotacon fetish fit with my milf fetish perfectly. I was immature then though, at fourteen, I couldn’t resist trying my hardest to impregnate her, and she wanted it herself. But my desire blinded me preventing me from thinking things through. Over the past year I’ve matured enough to come to regret not thinking things through.

“Now I see that I can’t ever be a real father to Stewie, and he and I are probably better off if I don’t try, which is fine by me, but it makes me feel like a shirker, which I suppose I am. I just needed to be sure someone was watching over him other than me, since I won’t be. I’m not obsessed with Lois, or Stewie, that’s not what this is about. Since our adventure, I’ve moved on to a serious relationship with the woman of my dreams, a lovely blonde also a bit older than myself. We’re really happy, but that’s another story. I think I’m asking you to be the one to watch over Lois and Stewie in my absence. Don’t use that stuff on the USB stick to ruin her life. That’s not what I want. Lois doesn’t deserve that, and I am better off for our time together. But I think you should use it to better understand and come to terms with your daughter so as to be better able to give her and her family the lives they do deserve.”

With that the mysterious Steve Smith left Barbara Pewterschmidt speechless at the Cafe on the Quay never to be seen in Rhode Island again beyond the limits of Interstate-95.

Barbara sat across from her son in law in the dim bar - not the Clam, the Rusty Anchor, a place they picked for being small and far enough away to keep their liaison from being noticed by anyone they knew. She held Peter’s hands in hers gazing softly at him as he filled Barbara in on her daughter’s recent antics. With each detail he let slip Barbara reacted not with dismay at her daughter’s behavior or predilections but only with support for Peter. It was as if nothing he said could shock the woman or provoke her to judge. Her responses didn’t seem typical of a mother in law. They weren’t geared to her daughter’s point of view at all but only to Peter’s, what he was entitled to, how he could benefit in the relationship, what he could get out of it.