History Recap / FamilyGuyS16E12SendInStewiePlease

* LeaningOnTheFourthWall: This episode has a few jabs at the fourth wall, scattered about. Stewie brings up the controversy over how some people can understand him, but some people can't. His explanation of his sexual orientation was done to either quench or add to the ongoing confusion of his sexual orientation among the fanbase. And lastly, when Stewie does voice impressions of Peter, Quagmire, Roger, etc., Dr. Pritchfield tells him that he still sounds like the same person.

* OlderThanTheyLook: Dr. Pritchfield lived through UsefulNotes/WorldWarII, and appeared to be about 8-10 years old in his flashback. Assuming this episode takes place in 2018, this lands him in his late 80's or early 90's.

* AlmostDeadGuy: Dr. Pritchfield uses his last dying breath, to tell Stewie that he's not British.

* DyingDeclarationOfLove: Among Dr. Pritchfield's [[FamousLastWords last words]] are a quote from ''Theatre/RomeoAndJuliet'', spoken to a picture of his husband.

* TheReasonYouSuckSpeech: Stewie delivers a big, six-minute one to Dr. Pritchfield. Not that he's necessarily saying that Dr. Pritchfield sucks; he's just tearing into ''all'' his insecurities and pretensions at once.
--> I see you're on vacation in Rio de Janeiro in this photo with your partner, I'm guessing? Or is he your husband? Yes, probably wanted to make it official, didn't you? "Never thought you'd see it in your lifetime," bla-bla-bla-bla. At a quick glance, I'd say there's roughly a 26-year age difference between the two of you. Not quite large enough to raise eyebrows, while still giving you a younger mind to shape. "Oh, you mean you haven't seen ''All About Eve,'' ''Gypsy'', ''Valley of the Dolls'', etc.?" And a younger body, to make you feel more virile. Taking into consideration the math, he was probably born at a time when the most popular name was... Michael. From the dog-eared pages of that volume of Shakespeare, I imagine you wooed Michael with a sonnet or monologue each day. And no one had ever done anything so romantic as reciting Shakespeare for Michael before. And he was smitten. While not as physically attracted to you as you are to him, that's okay. You each bring something important to the relationship. Isn't that what you believe, Dr. Pritchfield? I see a prescription for heart medication on that table. My guess is you keep that at the office. You don't want to worry Michael, you say to yourself, even though the truth is it embarrasses you. Your age, your mortality. Best to keep appearing as vital as possible. And no need to have reminders at home of what's just around the corner, is there? And your office is your haven, since Michael doesn't work and is often at home, perhaps as a result of a low-level depression that you don't really want to get into with him. Oh, he always ''planned'' to have a career, but he could never settle on exactly what it was he wanted to do. And at first you liked having him at home to take care of the house and plan trips. So that's just what happened. "And that's a job, too," he reminds you over the years. Michael likes to travel, and he prefers the finer things. And you'd like to give them to him, wouldn't you? But it's a bit difficult on a child psychologist's salary at a Rhode Island preschool, I'd imagine. Fortunately, you don't have children, so you do have some disposable income. Oh, you have talked about it with other couples, just for show, probably at dinner with younger friends of Michael's who are starting a family - you know, to be part of the conversation, to feel included. But you said you preferred your trips and your rescue dog named after a character most likely from Dickens. Ah, how accomplished and affluent you both look in this photo. Just the image Michael is so desperate to project. Let's look a little closer, shall we? Now, I see you're both wearing Ralph Lauren Purple Label dress shirts that retail starting at $495. But from the disfigured button holes on one and the small discoloration on the other, I can see you bought them at the outlet in Providence. Probably third markdown; in which case: $49, give or take. Since you also have light jackets on, I can see that you went there during summer vacation, which is, in fact, ''winter'' in Rio, outside of the high tourist season. And I see that you're on the rooftop pool deck at the Fasano Hotel in Ipanema, the most exclusive hotel in all of Brazil. Michael would've been dying to stay there. Had a friend that went with ''his'' older boyfriend, who makes a lot of money in, most likely, banking, much to your chagrin. But even in August, it's almost $1,000 a night. You tell him people are starving in the streets in Brazil. How do you justify paying those prices? When the truth is, you simply can't afford it. It's for another class of gay people. The window that Michael is always desperately peering through and sadly on the other side of. But you do your best. You don't go on Airbnb, because you don't trust it, even though Michael has stories of friends who have found the most fabulous places. ''You'' like a hotel. Besides, it's more romantic, you tell him. But when you take him to the place you're actually staying, the one you found on Trip Advisor that was rated number 27 of all the hotels in Rio and was having a special rate of 295 U. S. dollars a night (which is still not cheap, you remind him; most people never get to visit half the places he's seen, you tell him) you can't help but feel like a bit of a failure as you see the look of disappointment on his face as he enters the room. So you decide to go to the Fasano Hotel for dinner and drinks. No, just drinks (once you've seen the restaurant prices online). And once there, you can see how Michael begins looking at all the older men who ''can'' afford to take their boyfriends - I'm sorry, ''husbands'' - to such luxurious hotels. And you worry a little, that you're diminishing in his eyes with each passing year. But you tell yourself you're being ridiculous, as you see Michael glancing about the rooftop deck, looking at all the young men; men that would be 20 years younger than even Michael; men that you're invisible to. But he isn't yet, not completely. And you're jealous and you loathe yourself for it. But Michael wants a photo, and he says, "Let's take a selfie." But you say, "Let's ask someone to take one of us," and make some tired joke about selfies that only you laugh at, wishing that you could take it out of the air as soon as you've said it, as it's just one more indicator that you're older than ''everybody here.'' So Michael calls over a young man wearing a tiny swimsuit to take the photo, and makes a crude joke that embarrasses you. But the young man laughs, and he and Michael share a moment that you're not part of. And you feel humiliated and unseen. Which explains Michael's joyful grin and your slightly disconnected half-smile. And you've posted the photo on Facebook, and Michael's posted it to his 86 followers on Instagram (you don't know how that one works) to at least give the impression, in your Ralph Lauren shirts, holding your $20 cocktails, that you're both way more successful than you are. But it makes you feel a little dirty, the lengths you have to go to in order to keep Michael happy. And every time you glance at this picture, you wonder, "How long before he leaves me?" See? I guess we both know each other a bit.

* AbsenteeActor: Peter, Lois, Chris, and Meg do not appear in this episode. Stewie impersonates Peter's voice, and briefly mentions Lois' poor mothering skills, but Chris and Meg aren't even mentioned. This is the second episode where Stewie and Brian are the only members of the family shown after "Brian & Stewie".

* CharacterizationMarchesOn: Stewie is apparently scarred by the fact that he let Dr. Pritchfield die and badly injured a classmate, despite the fact that he used to be a stone-cold killer, who murdered numerous people like [[Recap/FamilyGuyS9E1AndThenThereWereFewer Diane Simmons]], [[Recap/FamilyGuyS4E8EightSimpleRulesForBuyingMyTeenageDaughter Jeremy]], [[Recap/FamilyGuyS5E4SavingPrivateBrian Vern & Johnny]], [[Recap/FamilyGuyS7E5TheManWithTwoBrians New Brian]], etc., and attempted to murder others ([[Recap/FamilyGuyS6E4And5StewieKillsLoisAndLoisKillsStewie his mother]], [[Recap/FamilyGuyS5E7ChickCancer Olivia]] and others) without batting an eye.

* ShootTheShaggyDog: Dr. Pritchfield manages to make a breakthrough with Stewie only for the latter [[StatusQuoIsGod to regress back to his old self]]. Then he has a heart attack and dies because Stewie refuses to give him his heart medication, only able to impotently remind Stewie he isn't British. Then his answering machine receives a message from his husband Michael telling him he wants a divorce.

* RunningGag: Dr. Pritchfield correcting Stewie for [[ItsPronouncedTroPay mispronouncing certain words]], such as "Controversy", "Cecil", and "Message", and then giving them the phonetic British pronunciations, like "Con-TRAW-Ver-Sy", "Seh-Sull", and "Massage" (although, as Stewie implies, the last one isn't actually real).
** However, in an example of RealityIsUnrealistic, "Con-TRAW-ver-sy" and "Seh-sull" are actually correct, if older, pronunciations of those words in the UK.

* ItsPronouncedTroPay: Became a bit of a running gag, stemming from Dr. Pritchfield's British pronunciation of "controversy".

* CharacterizationMarchesOn: Stewie is apparently scarred by the fact that he let Dr. Pritchfield die and badly injured a classmate, despite the fact that he used to be a stone-cold killer, who murdered numerous people like [[Recap/FamilyGuyS9E1AndThenThereWereFewer Diane Simmons]], Jeremy (''8 Simple Rules for Buying My Teenage Daughter''), [[Recap/FamilyGuyS5E4SavingPrivateBrian Vern & Johnny]], New Brian, etc., and attempted to murder others (his mother, Olivia and others) without batting an eye.

--> I see you're on vacation in Rio de Janeiro in this photo with your partner, I'm guessing? Or is he your husband? Yes, probably wanted to make it official, didn't you? "Never thought you'd see it in your lifetime," bla-bla-bla-bla. At a quick glance, I'd say there's roughly a 26-year age difference between the two of you. Not quite large enough to raise eyebrows, while still giving you a younger mind to shape. "Oh, you mean you haven't seen ''All About Eve,'' ''Gypsy'', ''Valley of the Dolls'', etc.?" And a younger body, to make you feel more virile. Taking into consideration the math, he was probably born at a time when the most popular name was... Michael. From the dog-eared pages of that volume of Shakespeare, I imagine you wooed Michael with a sonnet or monologue each day. And no one had ever done anything so romantic as reciting Shakespeare for Michael before. And he was smitten. While not as physically attracted to you as you are to him, that's okay. You each bring something important to the relationship. Isn't that what you believe, Dr. Pritchfield? I see a prescription for heart medication on that table. My guess is you keep that at the office. You don't want to worry Michael, you say to yourself, even though the truth is it embarrasses you. Your age, your mortality. Best to keep appearing as vital as possible. And no need to have reminders at home of what's just around the corner, is there? And your office is your haven, since Michael doesn't work and is often at home, perhaps as a result of a low-level depression that you don't really want to get into with him. Oh, he always ''planned'' to have a career, but he could never settle on exactly what it was he wanted to do. And at first you liked having him at home to take care of the house and plan trips. So that's just what happened. "And that's a job, too," he reminds you over the years. Michael likes to travel, and he prefers the finer things. And you'd like to give them to him, wouldn't you? But it's a bit difficult on a child psychologist's salary at a Rhode Island preschool, I'd imagine. Fortunately, you don't have children, so you do have some disposable income. Oh, you have talked about it with other couples, just for show, probably at dinner with younger friends of Michael's who are starting a family - you know, to be part of the conversation, to feel included. But you said you preferred your trips and your rescue dog named after a character most likely from Dickens. Ah, how accomplished and affluent you both look in this photo. Just the image Michael is so desperate to project. Let's look a little closer, shall we? Now, I see you're both wearing Ralph Lauren Purple Label dress shirts that retail starting at $495. But from the disfigured button holes on one and the small discoloration on the other, I can see you bought them at the outlet in Providence. Probably third markdown, in which case, $49, give or take. Since you also have light jackets on, I can see that you went there during summer vacation, which is, in fact, ''winter'' in Rio, outside of the high tourist season. And I see that you're on the rooftop pool deck at the Fasano Hotel in Ipanema, the most exclusive hotel in all of Brazil. Michael would've been dying to stay there. Had a friend that went with ''his'' older boyfriend, who makes a lot of money in, most likely, banking, much to your chagrin. But even in August, it's almost $1,000 a night. You tell him people are starving in the streets in Brazil. How do you justify paying those prices? When the truth is, you simply can't afford it. It's for another class of gay people. The window that Michael is always desperately peering through and sadly on the other side of. But you do your best. You don't go on Airbnb, because you don't trust it, even though Michael has stories of friends who have found the most fabulous places. ''You'' like a hotel. Besides, it's more romantic, you tell him. But when you take him to the place you're actually staying, the one you found on Trip Advisor that was rated number 27 of all the hotels in Rio and was having a special rate of 295 U. S. dollars a night (which is still not cheap, you remind him; most people never get to visit half the places he's seen, you tell him) you can't help but feel like a bit of a failure as you see the look of disappointment on his face as he enters the room. So you decide to go to the Fasano Hotel for dinner and drinks. No, just drinks (once you've seen the restaurant prices online). And once there, you can see how Michael begins looking at all the older men who ''can'' afford to take their boyfriends - I'm sorry, ''husbands'' - to such luxurious hotels. And you worry a little, that you're diminishing in his eyes with each passing year. But you tell yourself you're being ridiculous, as you see Michael glancing about the rooftop deck, looking at all the young men; men that would be 20 years younger than even Michael; men that you're invisible to. But he isn't yet, not completely. And you're jealous and you loathe yourself for it. But Michael wants a photo, and he says, "Let's take a selfie." But you say, "Let's ask someone to take one of us," and make some tired joke about selfies that only you laugh at, wishing that you could take it out of the air as soon as you've said it, as it's just one more indicator that you're older than ''everybody here.'' So Michael calls over a young man wearing a tiny swimsuit to take the photo, and makes a crude joke that embarrasses you. But the young man laughs, and he and Michael share a moment that you're not part of. And you feel humiliated and unseen. Which explains Michael's joyful grin and your slightly disconnected half-smile. And you've posted the photo on Facebook, and Michael's posted it to his 86 followers on Instagram (you don't know how that one works) to at least give the impression, in your Ralph Lauren shirts, holding your $20 cocktails, that you're both way more successful than you are. But it makes you feel a little dirty, the lengths you have to go to in order to keep Michael happy. And every time you glance at this picture, you wonder, "How long before he leaves me?" See? I guess we both know each other a bit.

* TheReasonYouSuckSpeech: Stewie delivers a big, six-minute one to Dr. Pritchfield. Not that he's necessarily saying that Dr. Pritchfield sucks: he's just tearing into ''all'' his insecurities and pretensions at once.

--> I see you're on vacation in Rio de Janeiro in this photo with your partner, I'm guessing? Or is he your husband? Yes, probably wanted to make it official, didn't you? "Never thought you'd see it in your lifetime," bla-bla-bla-bla. At a quick glance, I'd say there's roughly a 26-year age difference between the two of you. Not quite large enough to raise eyebrows, while still giving you a younger mind to shape. "Oh, you mean you haven't seen ''All About Eve,'' ''Gypsy'', ''Valley of the Dolls'', etc.?" And a younger body, to make you feel more virile. Taking into consideration the math, he was probably born at a time when the most popular name was... Michael. From the dog-eared pages of that volume of Shakespeare, I imagine you wooed Michael with a sonnet or monologue each day. And no one had ever done anything so romantic as reciting Shakespeare for Michael before. And he was smitten. While not as physically attracted to you as you are to him, that's okay. You each bring something important to the relationship. Isn't that what you believe, Dr. Pritchfield? I see a prescription for heart medication on that table. My guess is you keep that at the office. You don't want to worry Michael, you say to yourself, even though the truth is it embarrasses you. Your age, your mortality. Best to keep appearing as vital as possible. And no need to have reminders at home of what's just around the corner, is there? And your office is your haven, since Michael doesn't work and is often at home, perhaps as a result of a low-level depression that you don't really want to get into with him. Oh, he always ''planned'' to have a career, but he could never settle on exactly what it was he wanted to do. And at first you liked having him at home to take care of the house and plan trips. So that's just what happened. "And that's a job, too," he reminds you over the years. Michael likes to travel, and he prefers the finer things. And you'd like to give them to him, wouldn't you? But it's a bit difficult on a child psychologist's salary at a Rhode Island preschool, I'd imagine. Fortunately, you don't have children, so you do have some disposable income. Oh, you have talked about it with other couples, just for show, probably at dinner with younger friends of Michael's who are starting a family - you know, to be part of the conversation, to feel included. But you said you preferred your trips and your rescue dog named after a character most likely from Dickens. Ah, how accomplished and affluent you both look in this photo. Just the image Michael is so desperate to project. Let's look a little closer, shall we? Now, I see you're both wearing Ralph Lauren Purple Label dress shirts that retail starting at $495. But from the disfigured button holes on one and the small discoloration on the other, I can see you bought them at the outlet in Providence. Probably third markdown, in which case, $49, give or take. Since you also have light jackets on, I can see that you went there during summer vacation, which is, in fact, ''winter'' in Rio, outside of the high tourist season. And I see that you're on the rooftop pool deck at the Fasano Hotel in Ipanema, the most exclusive hotel in all of Brazil. Michael would've been dying to stay there. Had a friend that went with ''his'' older boyfriend, who makes a lot of money in, most likely, banking, much to your chagrin. But even in August, it's almost $1,000 a night. You tell him people are starving in the streets in Brazil. How do you justify paying those prices? When the truth is, you simply can't afford it. It's for another class of gay people. The window that Michael is always desperately peering through and sadly on the other side of. But you do your best. You don't go on Airbnb, because you don't trust it, even though Michael has stories of friends who have found the most fabulous places. ''You'' like a hotel. Besides, it's more romantic, you tell him. But when you take him to the place you're actually staying, the one you found on Trip Advisor that was rated number 27 of all the hotels in Rio and was having a special rate of 295 U. S. dollars a night (which is still not cheap, you remind him; most people never get to visit half the places he's seen, you tell him) you can't help but feel like a bit of a failure as you see the look of disappointment on his face as he enters the room. So you decide to go to the Fasano Hotel for dinner and drinks. No, just drinks (once you've seen the restaurant prices online). And once there, you can see how Michael begins looking at all the older men who ''can'' afford to take their boyfriends - I'm sorry, ''husbands'' - to such luxurious hotels. And you worry a little, that you're diminishing in his eyes with each passing year. But you tell yourself you're being ridiculous, as you see Michael glancing about the rooftop deck, looking at all the young men, men that would be 20 years younger than even Michael, men that you're invisible to. But he isn't yet, not completely. And you're jealous and you loathe yourself for it. But Michael wants a photo, and he says, "Let's take a selfie." But you say, "Let's ask someone to take one of us," and make some tired joke about selfies that only you laugh at, wishing that you could take it out of the air as soon as you've said it, as it's just one more indicator that you're older than everybody here. So Michael calls over a young man wearing a tiny swimsuit to take the photo and makes a crude joke that embarrasses you. But the young man laughs, and he and Michael share a moment that you're not part of. And you feel humiliated and unseen. Which explains Michael's joyful grin and your slightly disconnected half-smile. And you've posted the photo on Facebook, and Michael's posted it to his 86 followers on Instagram (you don't know how that one works) to at least give the impression, in your Ralph Lauren shirts, holding your $20 cocktails, that you're both way more successful than you are. But it makes you feel a little dirty, the lengths you have to go to in order to keep Michael happy. And every time you glance at this picture, you wonder, "How long before he leaves me?" See? I guess we both know each other a bit.

--> I see you're on vacation in Rio de Janeiro in this photo with your partner, I'm guessing? Or is he your husband? Yes, probably wanted to make it official, didn't you? "Never thought you'd see it in your lifetime," bla-bla-bla-bla. At a quick glance, I'd say there's roughly a 26-year age difference between the two of you. Not quite large enough to raise eyebrows, while still giving you a younger mind to shape. "Oh, you mean you haven't seen ''All About Eve,'' ''Gypsy'', ''Valley of the Dolls'', etc.?" And a younger body, to make you feel more virile. Taking into consideration the math, he was probably born at a time when the most popular name was... Michael. From the dog-eared pages of that volume of Shakespeare, I imagine you wooed Michael with a sonnet or monologue each day. And no one had ever done anything so romantic as reciting Shakespeare for Michael before. And he was smitten. While not as physically attracted to you as you are to him, that's okay. You each bring something important to the relationship. Isn't that what you believe, Dr. Pritchfield? I see a prescription for heart medication on that table. My guess is you keep that at the office. You don't want to worry Michael, you say to yourself, even though the truth is it embarrasses you. Your age, your mortality. Best to keep appearing as vital as possible. And no need to have reminders at home of what's just around the corner, is there? And your office is your haven, since Michael doesn't work and is often at home, perhaps as a result of a low-level depression that you don't really want to get into with him. Oh, he always ''planned'' to have a career, but he could never settle on exactly what it was he wanted to do. And at first you liked having him at home to take care of the house and plan trips. So that's just what happened. "And that's a job, too," he reminds you over the years. Michael likes to travel, and he prefers the finer things. And you'd like to give them to him, wouldn't you? But it's a bit difficult on a child psychologist's salary at a Rhode Island preschool, I'd imagine. Fortunately, you don't have children, so you do have some disposable income. Oh, you have talked about it with other couples, just for show, probably at dinner with younger friends of Michael's who are starting a family - you know, to be part of the conversation, to feel included. But you said you preferred your trips and your rescue dog named after a character most likely from Dickens. Ah, how accomplished and affluent you both look in this photo. Just the image Michael is so desperate to project. Let's look a little closer, shall we? Now, I see you're both wearing Ralph Lauren Purple Label dress shirts that retail starting at $495. But from the disfigured button holes on one and the small discoloration on the other, I can see you bought them at the outlet in Providence. Probably third markdown, in which case, $49, give or take. Since you also have light jackets on, I can see that you went there during summer vacation, which is, in fact, winter in Rio, outside of the high tourist season. And I see that you're on the rooftop pool deck at the Fasano Hotel in Ipanema, the most exclusive hotel in all of Brazil. Michael would've been dying to stay there. Had a friend that went with ''his'' older boyfriend, who makes a lot of money in, most likely, banking, much to your chagrin. But even in August, it's almost $1,000 a night. You tell him people are starving in the streets in Brazil. How do you justify paying those prices? When the truth is, you simply can't afford it. It's for another class of gay people. The window that Michael is always desperately peering through and sadly on the other side of. But you do your best. You don't go on Airbnb, because you don't trust it, even though Michael has stories of friends who have found the most fabulous places. ''You'' like a hotel. Besides, it's more romantic, you tell him. But when you take him to the place you're actually staying, the one you found on Trip Advisor that was rated number 27 of all the hotels in Rio and was having a special rate of 295 U. S. dollars a night (which is still not cheap, you remind him; most people never get to visit half the places he's seen, you tell him) you can't help but feel like a bit of a failure as you see the look of disappointment on his face as he enters the room. So you decide to go to the Fasano Hotel for dinner and drinks. No, just drinks (once you've seen the restaurant prices online). And once there, you can see how Michael begins looking at all the older men who ''can'' afford to take their boyfriends - I'm sorry, ''husbands'' - to such luxurious hotels. And you worry a little, that you're diminishing in his eyes with each passing year. But you tell yourself you're being ridiculous, as you see Michael glancing about the rooftop deck, looking at all the young men, men that would be 20 years younger than even Michael, men that you're invisible to. But he isn't yet, not completely. And you're jealous and you loathe yourself for it. But Michael wants a photo, and he says, "Let's take a selfie." But you say, "Let's ask someone to take one of us," and make some tired joke about selfies that only you laugh at, wishing that you could take it out of the air as soon as you've said it, as it's just one more indicator that you're older than everybody here. So Michael calls over a young man wearing a tiny swimsuit to take the photo and makes a crude joke that embarrasses you. But the young man laughs, and he and Michael share a moment that you're not part of. And you feel humiliated and unseen. Which explains Michael's joyful grin and your slightly disconnected half-smile. And you've posted the photo on Facebook, and Michael's posted it to his 86 followers on Instagram (you don't know how that one works) to at least give the impression, in your Ralph Lauren shirts, holding your $20 cocktails, that you're both way more successful than you are. But it makes you feel a little dirty, the lengths you have to go to in order to keep Michael happy. And every time you glance at this picture, you wonder, "How long before he leaves me?" See? I guess we both know each other a bit.

* ArmorPiercingResponse: After Stewie goes on what felt like a 5-minute tangent, where he assumes tons of information about Dr. Pritchfield, Pritchfield responds, with a simple "You seem like a lonely young boy.", which drives like a stake through Stewie's heart and quickly brings him to tears.

* HiddenDepths: Stewie reveals tons of secrets about himself. This includes the fact that his British accent is fake along with his real voice, and his wide vocal range. He even described what he identifies his sexual orientation as. Stewie also admits that his main conflict in life is his loneliness and willingness to be liked.

--> I see you're on vacation in Rio de Janeiro in this photo with your partner, I'm guessing? Or is he your husband? Yes, probably wanted to make it official, didn't you? "Never thought you'd see it in your lifetime," bla-bla-bla-bla. At a quick glance, I'd say there's roughly a 26-year age difference between the two of you. Not quite large enough to raise eyebrows, while still giving you a younger mind to shape. "Oh, you mean you haven't seen ''All About Eve,'' ''Gypsy'', ''Valley of the Dolls'', etc.?" And a younger body, to make you feel more virile. Taking into consideration the math, he was probably born at a time when the most popular name was... Michael. From the dog-eared pages of that volume of Shakespeare, I imagine you wooed Michael with a sonnet or monologue each day. And no one had ever done anything so romantic as reciting Shakespeare for Michael before. And he was smitten. While not as physically attracted to you as you are to him, that's okay. You each bring something important to the relationship. Isn't that what you believe, Dr. Pritchfield? I see a prescription for heart medication on that table. My guess is you keep that at the office. You don't want to worry Michael, you say to yourself, even though the truth is it embarrasses you. Your age, your mortality. Best to keep appearing as vital as possible. And no need to have reminders at home of what's just around the corner, is there? And your office is your haven, since Michael doesn't work and is often at home, perhaps as a result of a low-level depression that you don't really want to get into with him. Oh, he always ''planned'' to have a career, but he could never settle on exactly what it was he wanted to do. And at first you liked having him at home to take care of the house and plan trips. So that's just what happened. "And that's a job, too," he reminds you over the years. Michael likes to travel, and he prefers the finer things. And you'd like to give them to him, wouldn't you? But it's a bit difficult on a child psychologist's salary at a Rhode Island preschool, I'd imagine. Fortunately, you don't have children, so you do have some disposable income. Oh, you have talked about it with other couples, just for show, probably at dinner with younger friends of Michael's who are starting a family - you know, to be part of the conversation, to feel included. But you said you preferred your trips and your rescue dog named after a character most likely from Dickens. Ah, how accomplished and affluent you both look in this photo. Just the image Michael is so desperate to project. Let's look a little closer, shall we? Now, I see you're both wearing Ralph Lauren Purple Label dress shirts that retail starting at $495. But from the disfigured button holes on one and the small discoloration on the other, I can see you bought them at the outlet in Providence. Probably third markdown, in which case, $49, give or take. Since you also have light jackets on, I can see that you went there during summer vacation, which is, in fact, winter in Rio, outside of the high tourist season. And I see that you're on the rooftop pool deck at the Fasano Hotel in Ipanema, the most exclusive hotel in all of Brazil. Michael would've been dying to stay there. Had a friend that went with ''his'' older boyfriend, who makes a lot of money in, most likely, banking, much to your chagrin. But even in August, it's almost $1,000 a night. You tell him people are starving in the streets in Brazil. How do you justify paying those prices? When the truth is, you simply can't afford it. It's for another class of gay people. The window that Michael is always desperately peering through and sadly on the other side of. But you do your best. You don't go on Airbnb, because you don't trust it, even though Michael has stories of friends who have found the most fabulous places. ''You'' like a hotel. Besides, it's more romantic, you tell him. But when you take him to the place you're actually staying, the one you found on TripAdvisor that was rated number 27 of all the hotels in Rio and was having a special rate of 295 U. S. dollars a night (which is still not cheap, you remind him; most people never get to visit half the places he's seen, you tell him) you can't help but feel like a bit of a failure as you see the look of disappointment on his face as he enters the room. So you decide to go to the Fasano Hotel for dinner and drinks. No, just drinks (once you've seen the restaurant prices online). And once there, you can see how Michael begins looking at all the older men who ''can'' afford to take their boyfriends - I'm sorry, ''husbands'' - to such luxurious hotels. And you worry a little, that you're diminishing in his eyes with each passing year. But you tell yourself you're being ridiculous, as you see Michael glancing about the rooftop deck, looking at all the young men, men that would be 20 years younger than even Michael, men that you're invisible to. But he isn't yet, not completely. And you're jealous and you loathe yourself for it. But Michael wants a photo, and he says, "Let's take a selfie." But you say, "Let's ask someone to take one of us," and make some tired joke about selfies that only you laugh at, wishing that you could take it out of the air as soon as you've said it, as it's just one more indicator that you're older than everybody here. So Michael calls over a young man wearing a tiny swimsuit to take the photo and makes a crude joke that embarrasses you. But the young man laughs, and he and Michael share a moment that you're not part of. And you feel humiliated and unseen. Which explains Michael's joyful grin and your slightly disconnected half-smile. And you've posted the photo on Facebook, and Michael's posted it to his 86 followers on Instagram (you don't know how that one works) to at least give the impression, in your Ralph Lauren shirts, holding your $20 cocktails, that you're both way more successful than you are. But it makes you feel a little dirty, the lengths you have to go to in order to keep Michael happy. And every time you glance at this picture, you wonder, "How long before he leaves me?" See? I guess we both know each other a bit.

--> I see you're on vacation in Rio de Janeiro in this photo with your partner, I'm guessing? Or is he your husband? Yes, probably wanted to make it official, didn't you? "Never thought you'd see it in your lifetime," bla-bla-bla-bla. At a quick glance, I'd say there's roughly a 26-year age difference between the two of you. Not quite large enough to raise eyebrows, while still giving you a younger mind to shape. "Oh, you mean you haven't seen ''All About Eve,'' ''Gypsy'', ''Valley of the Dolls'', etc.? And a younger body, to make you feel more virile. Taking into consideration the math, he was probably born at a time when the most popular name was... Michael. From the dog-eared pages of that volume of Shakespeare, I imagine you wooed Michael with a sonnet or monologue each day. And no one had ever done anything so romantic as reciting Shakespeare for Michael before. And he was smitten. While not as physically attracted to you as you are to him, that's okay. You each bring something important to the relationship. Isn't that what you believe, Dr. Pritchfield? I see a prescription for heart medication on that table. My guess is you keep that at the office. You don't want to worry Michael, you say to yourself, even though the truth is it embarrasses you. Your age, your mortality. Best to keep appearing as vital as possible. And no need to have reminders at home of what's just around the corner, is there? And your office is your haven, since Michael doesn't work and is often at home, perhaps as a result of a low-level depression that you don't really want to get into with him. Oh, he always ''planned'' to have a career, but he could never settle on exactly what it was he wanted to do. And at first you liked having him at home to take care of the house and plan trips. So that's just what happened. "And that's a job, too," he reminds you over the years. Michael likes to travel, and he prefers the finer things. And you'd like to give them to him, wouldn't you? But it's a bit difficult on a child psychologist's salary at a Rhode Island preschool, I'd imagine. Fortunately, you don't have children, so you do have some disposable income. Oh, you have talked about it with other couples, just for show, probably at dinner with younger friends of Michael's who are starting a family - you know, to be part of the conversation, to feel included. But you said you preferred your trips and your rescue dog named after a character most likely from Dickens. Ah, how accomplished and affluent you both look in this photo. Just the image Michael is so desperate to project. Let's look a little closer, shall we? Now, I see you're both wearing Ralph Lauren Purple Label dress shirts that retail starting at $495. But from the disfigured button holes on one and the small discoloration on the other, I can see you bought them at the outlet in Providence. Probably third markdown, in which case, $49, give or take. Since you also have light jackets on, I can see that you went there during summer vacation, which is, in fact, winter in Rio, outside of the high tourist season. And I see that you're on the rooftop pool deck at the Fasano Hotel in Ipanema, the most exclusive hotel in all of Brazil. Michael would've been dying to stay there. Had a friend that went with ''his'' older boyfriend, who makes a lot of money in, most likely, banking, much to your chagrin. But even in August, it's almost $1,000 a night. You tell him people are starving in the streets in Brazil. How do you justify paying those prices? When the truth is, you simply can't afford it. It's for another class of gay people. The window that Michael is always desperately peering through and sadly on the other side of. But you do your best. You don't go on Airbnb, because you don't trust it, even though Michael has stories of friends who have found the most fabulous places. ''You'' like a hotel. Besides, it's more romantic, you tell him. But when you take him to the place you're actually staying, the one you found on TripAdvisor that was rated number 27 of all the hotels in Rio and was having a special rate of 295 U. S. dollars a night (which is still not cheap, you remind him; most people never get to visit half the places he's seen, you tell him) you can't help but feel like a bit of a failure as you see the look of disappointment on his face as he enters the room. So you decide to go to the Fasano Hotel for dinner and drinks. No, just drinks (once you've seen the restaurant prices online). And once there, you can see how Michael begins looking at all the older men who ''can'' afford to take their boyfriends - I'm sorry, ''husbands'' - to such luxurious hotels. And you worry a little, that you're diminishing in his eyes with each passing year. But you tell yourself you're being ridiculous, as you see Michael glancing about the rooftop deck, looking at all the young men, men that would be 20 years younger than even Michael, men that you're invisible to. But he isn't yet, not completely. And you're jealous and you loathe yourself for it. But Michael wants a photo, and he says, "Let's take a selfie." But you say, "Let's ask someone to take one of us," and make some tired joke about selfies that only you laugh at, wishing that you could take it out of the air as soon as you've said it, as it's just one more indicator that you're older than everybody here. So Michael calls over a young man wearing a tiny swimsuit to take the photo and makes a crude joke that embarrasses you. But the young man laughs, and he and Michael share a moment that you're not part of. And you feel humiliated and unseen. Which explains Michael's joyful grin and your slightly disconnected half-smile. And you've posted the photo on Facebook, and Michael's posted it to his 86 followers on Instagram (you don't know how that one works) to at least give the impression, in your Ralph Lauren shirts, holding your $20 cocktails, that you're both way more successful than you are. But it makes you feel a little dirty, the lengths you have to go to in order to keep Michael happy. And every time you glance at this picture, you wonder, "How long before he leaves me?" See? I guess we both know each other a bit.

* TheReasonYouSuckSpeech: Stewie delivers a big one to Dr. Prtichfield.
--> From the dog-eared pages of that volume of Shakespeare, I imagine you wooed Michael with a sonnet or monologue each day. And no one had ever done anything so romantic as reciting Shakespeare for Michael before. And he was smitten. While not as physically attracted to you as you are to him, that's okay. You each bring something important to the relationship. Isn't that what you believe, Dr. Pritchfield? I see a prescription for heart medication on that table. My guess is you keep that at the office. You don't want to worry Michael, you say to yourself, even though the truth is it embarrasses you. Your age, your mortality. Best to keep appearing as vital as possible. And no need to have reminders at home of what's just around the corner, is there? And your office is your haven, since Michael doesn't work and is often at home, perhaps as a result of a low-level depression that you don't really want to get into with him. Oh, he always planned to have a career, but he could never settle on exactly what it was he wanted to do. And at first you liked having him at home to take care of the house and plan trips. So that's just what happened. "And that's a job, too," he reminds you over the years. Michael likes to travel, and he prefers the finer things. And you'd like to give them to him, wouldn't you? But it's a bit difficult on a child psychologist's salary at a Rhode Island preschool, I'd imagine. Fortunately, you don't have children, so you do have some disposable income. Oh, you have talked about it with other couples, just for show, probably at dinner with younger friends of Michael's who are starting a family, you know, to be part of the conversation, to feel included. But you said you preferred your trips and your rescue dog named after a character most likely from Dickens. Ah, how accomplished and affluent you both look in this photo. Just the image Michael is so desperate to project. Let's look a little closer, shall we? Now, I see you're both wearing Ralph Lauren Purple Label dress shirts that retail starting at $495. But from the disfigured button holes on one and the small discoloration on the other, I can see you bought them at the outlet in Providence. Probably third markdown, in which case, $49, give or take. Since you also have light jackets on, I can see that you went there during summer vacation, which is, in fact, winter in Rio, outside of the high tourist season. And I see that you're on the rooftop pool deck at the Fasano Hotel in Ipanema, the most exclusive hotel in all of Brazil. Michael would've been dying to stay there. Had a friend that went with his older boyfriend, who makes a lot of money in, most likely, banking, much to your chagrin. But even in August, it's almost $1,000 a night. You tell him people are starving in the streets in Brazil. How do you justify paying those prices? When the truth is, you simply can't afford it. It's for another class of gay people. The window that Michael is always desperately peering through and sadly on the other side of. But you do your best. You don't go on Airbnb, because you don't trust it, even though Michael has stories of friends who have found the most fabulous places. You like a hotel. Besides, it's more romantic, you tell him. But when you take him to the place you're actually staying, the one you found on TripAdvisor that was rated number 27 of all the hotels in Rio and was having a special rate of 295 U. S. dollars a night Which is still not cheap, you remind him, most people never get to visit half the places he's seen, you tell him you can't help but feel like a bit of a failure as you see the look of disappointment on his face as he enters the room. So you decide to go to the Fasano Hotel for dinner and drinks. No, just drinks, once you've seen the restaurant prices online. And once there, you can see how Michael begins looking at all the older men who can afford to take their boyfriends I'm sorry, husbands To such luxurious hotels. And you worry a little, that you're diminishing in his eyes with each passing year. But you tell yourself you're being ridiculous, as you see Michael glancing about the rooftop deck, looking at all the young men, men that would be 20 years younger than even Michael, men that you're invisible to. But he isn't yet, not completely, and you're jealous and you loathe yourself for it. But Michael wants a photo, and he says, "Let's take a selfie. " But you say, "Let's ask someone to take one of us" and make some tired joke about selfies that only you laugh at, wishing that you could take it out of the air as soon as you've said it, as it's just one more indicator that you're older than everybody here. So Michael calls over a young man wearing a tiny swimsuit to take the photo and makes a crude joke that embarrasses you. But the young man laughs, and he and Michael share a moment that you're not part of. And you feel humiliated and unseen. Which explains Michael's joyful grin and your slightly disconnected half-smile. And you've posted the photo on Facebook, and Michael's posted it to his 86 followers on Instagram You don't know how that one works To at least give the impression, in your Ralph Lauren shirts, holding your $20 cocktails, that you're both way more successful than you are. But it makes you feel a little dirty, the lengths you have to go to in order to keep Michael happy. And every time you glance at this picture, you wonder, "How long before he leaves me?" See? I guess we both know each other a bit.

--> From the dog-eared pages of that volume of Shakespeare, I imagine you wooed Michael with a sonnet or monologue each day. And no one had ever done anything so romantic as reciting Shakespeare for Michael before. And he was smitten. While not as physically attracted to you as you are to him, that's okay You each bring something important to the relationship. Isn't that what you believe, Dr. Pritchfield? I see a prescription for heart medication on that table. My guess is you keep that at the office. You don't want to worry Michael, you say to yourself, even though the truth is it embarrasses you. Your age, your mortality. Best to keep appearing as vital as possible. And no need to have reminders at home of what's just around the corner, is there? And your office is your haven, since Michael doesn't work and is often at home, perhaps as a result of a low-level depression that you don't really want to get into with him. Oh, he always planned to have a career, but he could never settle on exactly what it was he wanted to do. And at first you liked having him at home to take care of the house and plan trips. So that's just what happened. "And that's a job, too," he reminds you over the years. Michael likes to travel, and he prefers the finer things. And you'd like to give them to him, wouldn't you? But it's a bit difficult on a child psychologist's salary at a Rhode Island preschool, I'd imagine. Fortunately, you don't have children, so you do have some disposable income. Oh, you have talked about it with other couples, just for show, probably at dinner with younger friends of Michael's who are starting a family, you know, to be part of the conversation, to feel included. But you said you preferred your trips and your rescue dog named after a character most likely from Dickens. Ah, how accomplished and affluent you both look in this photo. Just the image Michael is so desperate to project. Let's look a little closer, shall we? Now, I see you're both wearing Ralph Lauren Purple Label dress shirts that retail starting at $495. But from the disfigured button holes on one and the small discoloration on the other, I can see you bought them at the outlet in Providence. Probably third markdown, in which case, $49, give or take. Since you also have light jackets on, I can see that you went there during summer vacation, which is, in fact, winter in Rio, outside of the high tourist season. And I see that you're on the rooftop pool deck at the Fasano Hotel in Ipanema, the most exclusive hotel in all of Brazil. Michael would've been dying to stay there. Had a friend that went with his older boyfriend, who makes a lot of money in, most likely, banking, much to your chagrin. But even in August, it's almost $1,000 a night. You tell him people are starving in the streets in Brazil. How do you justify paying those prices? When the truth is, you simply can't afford it. It's for another class of gay people. The window that Michael is always desperately peering through and sadly on the other side of. But you do your best. You don't go on Airbnb, because you don't trust it, even though Michael has stories of friends who have found the most fabulous places. You like a hotel. Besides, it's more romantic, you tell him. But when you take him to the place you're actually staying, the one you found on TripAdvisor that was rated number 27 of all the hotels in Rio and was having a special rate of 295 U. S. dollars a night Which is still not cheap, you remind him, most people never get to visit half the places he's seen, you tell him you can't help but feel like a bit of a failure as you see the look of disappointment on his face as he enters the room. So you decide to go to the Fasano Hotel for dinner and drinks. No, just drinks, once you've seen the restaurant prices online. And once there, you can see how Michael begins looking at all the older men who can afford to take their boyfriends I'm sorry, husbands To such luxurious hotels. And you worry a little, that you're diminishing in his eyes with each passing year. But you tell yourself you're being ridiculous, as you see Michael glancing about the rooftop deck, looking at all the young men, men that would be 20 years younger than even Michael, men that you're invisible to. But he isn't yet, not completely, and you're jealous and you loathe yourself for it. But Michael wants a photo, and he says, "Let's take a selfie. " But you say, "Let's ask someone to take one of us" and make some tired joke about selfies that only you laugh at, wishing that you could take it out of the air as soon as you've said it, as it's just one more indicator that you're older than everybody here. So Michael calls over a young man wearing a tiny swimsuit to take the photo and makes a crude joke that embarrasses you. But the young man laughs, and he and Michael share a moment that you're not part of. And you feel humiliated and unseen. Which explains Michael's joyful grin and your slightly disconnected half-smile. And you've posted the photo on Facebook, and Michael's posted it to his 86 followers on Instagram You don't know how that one works To at least give the impression, in your Ralph Lauren shirts, holding your $20 cocktails, that you're both way more successful than you are. But it makes you feel a little dirty, the lengths you have to go to in order to keep Michael happy. And every time you glance at this picture, you wonder, "How long before he leaves me?" See? I guess we both know each other a bit.

* OlderThanTheyLook: Dr. Pritchfield lived through World War II, and appeared to be about 8-10 years old in his flashback. Assuming this episode takes place in 2018, this lands him in his late 80's or early 90's.

* TitleDrop: Dr. Pritchfield's first quote and the first spoken line of dialogue in this episode.

* BottleEpisode: This entire episode only features Stewie, Brian, and Dr. Pritchfield and took place solely in the latter's office.

* AllJustADream: The ending seems to imply that the entire thing was just a dream Stewie had. Unfortunately, it's hard to know for sure especially since that belief is contradicted by Stewie's MyGodWhatHaveIDone moment and telling Brian that he did a bad thing which could allude to him either pushing that kid down the stairs or letting Pritchfield die. Or even something else entirely.

* TitleDrop: Dr. Pritchfield's first quote and the first spoken line of dialogue in this episode.
* WhamEpisode: Or at least it would have been, should [[{{Retcon}} this episode's events have not been rendered pointless]], due to this being [[AllJustADream Stewie's dream]] (that is, if one chooses to believe that it is due to said belief being contradicted by his MyGodWhatHaveIDone moment).