To Cleveland, life at home was relaxing. He was happy to have the old Junior back in his life. His son was able to go to the toilet by himself and do things more physically and be happy about it. It was like good old times.
But to Donna and Rallo, it was a worse hell than Satan’s hell. This Junior wasn’t helping Donna with the dishes, the beds or any of the chores he would do and he would always run around, bumping into Rallo when he was in the midst of something. “Sorry, Rallo!” he would always say, before running off.
It has been a whole week since Junior’s operation and Cleveland was forced to have a talk with Donna.
“Cleveland, I hope you’re happy and proud of what you have done with Junior,” she said. “Because I still think this was a horrible idea!”
“Why?” protested Cleveland. “He’s taking more care of himself and he’s causing less problems around the house and in his life. I’ve done the right thing.”
“For Junior, for the world or for yourself?” Donna asked. “Imagine if a bunch of white people making machines turning people like us or Asian people into white people so we will look just like them. Well, you’re no better than them! And you’re no better than people who fear mutants in comic books, like the X-Men or the Ninja Turtles.”
In New York, the Ninja Turtles were fighting the Shedder and the Foot. The X-Men arrived to help the Turtles.
“Well, thanks, X-Men,” said Leonardo.
“No problem,” smiled Wolverine.
“Well, we mutants need to stick together,” smiled Professor X.
Then there was an angry mob with torches and forks and signs like ‘No Mutants allowed!’ and ‘No place for your kind in this world!’
“Take about prejudice,” moaned Storm.
“Meet someplace else?” asked Donatello.
“Meet us at the Stoolbend Comic Store,” said Professor X. “We’ll see how our and your comics are doing.”
Then they all spilt and ran away from the angry mob.
On the ship the Milk Jug, Roberta was scrubbing the deck. “Hey, Puggen!” she called.
“Captain Puggen to you, cabin girl!” snapped Puggen.
“I don’t see why I have to do all the hard work,” Roberta said. “I'm too popular and too sexy for – ”
“Well, picture this,” said Puggen. “Roberta Tubbs: the girl who worked hard on the ship and discovered the reef that will be named after her or the girl who was drowned at sea just because she was rude. You’ll get your fame either way. Your pick.”
“What are your further orders, sir?” asked the rebellious teen.
“A cup of tea!”
“Right away, sir!” And Roberta was gone.
At the Broken Stool, as if Donna and Rallo weren’t giving him enough hell already, Cleveland was not pleased that his friends was giving him crap about his son, too.
“I know your older son was fat, lazy and intelligent,” said Lester. “But this new black son of yours is really driving me totally nuts! And just think of my son losing his best friend of because of a stressed nigger like you.”
“I’ve never had anything against your son,” said Holt, “but now he’s a new person and has been running on my mom’s flowers and I had keeping buying and planting new ones, he’s been getting on my nerves!”
“Yeah and I’ve been praying to Jesus to help your son,” said Tim.
“Oh, thanks, Tim,” smiled Cleveland.
“For what he’s going through!” snapped Tim. “For what you’re putting him up to!”
“Why?” snapped Cleveland. “He’s better than ever! He’s more active and he can do great things if he can only be turned in the right direction.”
“Then why are you letting him waste all the colouring crayons here that was for the children?” asked Gus, as he went to their table.
Cleveland rose from his chair angrily. “That’s it! I don’t care what everyone thinks of him; he’s perfect to me. He’s healthy again, he solving all his problems by himself and, as long as he’s doing well at school and not getting bullied, that’ll be fine!”
The next morning, Junior was lying on the sofa after a bully knocked him over and sat on him. Cleveland was so angry that his head exploded like a bomb. Bloods and organs flew everywhere. Then out of his neck he grew a new head.
“Lucky my head has regeneration cells,” smiled Cleveland. Then he was angry again. “I just can’t believe it! I won’t! I don’t see why me useless only blood-born son can’t stick up to a big bully!”
“Well, he’s not been taught yet!” snapped Donna. “If you want him to stick up for himself, you’ve got to teach him! And you alone can teach him! And quick! At least the fat Junior could lie down on the sofa and have the sheets put over him!” And she stormed off angrily.
“Yes, I will,” Cleveland said coldly. “I’ll surprise you just like how Cars 2 was Pixar’s first bad movie.”
At the movie theatre, the Pixar crew was being held hostage against an angry mob. They were complaining how crap Cars 2 was.
“See what I mean?” Cleveland asked outside the mob.
The Milk Jug came to a stop. “We are here,” Puggen told Roberta. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get your gear on and do some damn discovering! This will be a better discovery than when Baron John Hunt made it to the top of Mount Everest!”
In 1953, Sir John Hunt led the British Expedition to the top of Mount Everest or so it seems. The truth was that Hunt was tucked up nice and warm in a sled, while the rest of his team was pushing him upwards.
“Come on, you lazy buggers!” Hunt shouted. “If we don’t get to the top, I won’t get my medals or a knighthood!”
Soon they managed to get him to the top of the mountain before they all slid down! Hunt just got the Union Jack Flag out and put it on top of the mountain.
Soon Roberta, in her green bikini top and black briefs, was in her scuba gear. She got ready to jump in.
“Go, girl!” cheered Puggen. “Go and make history!”
She jumped into the sea and her great expedition began.
Roberta had been underwater for about two hours.
“Anything yet, sweetheart?” Puggen asked on the radio.
“Nothing so much and new or shiny or sexy!” replied Roberta.
“Well, just pick up a few shells and we’ll modify them so they will look like something that has never been found before and we’ll go back and make history,” Puggen told her.
Roberta found the nearest shells and began to ascend when –
She saw a dark tall creature walking in the tall seaweed forest nearby. She swam forward to check it out. She searched every inch, but couldn’t find anything. So she decided to ascend up, but something dark got into her face and something like hands but scalier caught her.
“Captain Puggen, I’m being captured by a monster!” she yelled to her radio.
“A sea monster? Perfect!” Puggen cried on his radio.
“Well, don’t just stand there!" she snapped. “Help! Save me! Save my sexy ass and boobs...”
“No, this is the moment of your life!” Puggen yelled back. “Use all your strength to bring the bastard up to my boat.”
Using all the strength she had, Roberta seized control of the creature and brought it up to the surface. Both she and Puggen were very surprised of what the thing looked like. It was a tall grey-black humanoid creature with scales and a fish-like face.
“Well done, Tubbs!” said Puggen, dragging the creature into a cage and locking him in. “I’ll be rich! Rich!” And he left feeling pleased with himself.
Roberta should be very happy with herself but she was feeling unsure wherever she did the right thing or not.
“Proud of yourself?” a little girl’s voice said. Roberta looked around and saw nothing except the monster in the cage licking itself.
“Nah, I’ve been underwater for too long,” she muttered to herself, walking away.
At Stoolbend Gym, Cleveland took Junior to a boxing class. The coach was muscular and bald and had the name of Roach Jones. There was another student called Mike, who was his fourteen year son. He looked a lot like his dad, except he had ginger hair.
“Well, skinny, you’re in for a lesson of a lifetime,” smiled Roach.
“Oh, goody!” exclaimed Junior. “I can’t wait to get started! I’m so – ” He was kicked in the head and he fell down to the floor, with Mike standing behind him.
“Rule No. one: Always be alert!” Roach told him.
Junior had a terrible day. He tried his best to protect himself and attack his opponent, but all he did was get hit.
“Not only are you not strong enough for this, but you’re not even clever,” Roach said to the weak Junior. “You’re just a waste of energy, space and life!”
“How did I do today, Dad?” asked Mike.
“Better than the new guy today,” said Roach, “but still not as good as Will Smith’s stunt double in the movie Ali, let alone Will Smith or the real-life Muhammad Ali.”
“Yeah, that's right,” said the real-life Muhammad Ali. He punched both Mike and Roach, who fell down.
As Junior was lying on the floor, he was so much in pain he couldn’t move. But as he was lying down on the ground, he was thinking of all of the bullies who had picked on him: Roach, Mike, all the bullies at school and, most of all, his dad. He growled and tried to get up, but he only pulled a muscle in his back.
The next day, Roach and Mike were at the gym and getting ready for Junior.
“Just do what you did yesterday to him,” Roach said to his son, “only more painful and less merciful, and he'll be Bantha fodder.”
“Yes, sir,” Mike smiled cruelly.
“Then let’s get this show on the road,” said a deep basso voice. They turn to see someone who looked like Junior but with a more muscular body. “Well, what are you fools waiting for?”
“Is that you, Junior?” asked a confused and scared Roach.
“No, it’s Rampage Jackson’s son,” said Junior. “Who do you think it is? Now, come on!”
“Go get him, son,” Roach whispered nervously to Mike.
Mike charged for Junior, but every time he tried to hit him, Junior would dodge all the attacks. You would think that Junior had been practising all in one night. Then when it came for his turn to fight, Junior would let Mike have it.
He had beaten Mike up so much that Roach decided to let Junior pass! This made Cleveland so damn happy. He had never been so proud of his son in his life.
“Now you won't have a bully problem!” Cleveland told his own son.
From the next day to the next few, that seemed to work. Cleveland Brown Jr. had managed to get to school, get his work done and managed to deal with the bullies... personality. But Donna was still worried because she knew if Junior got in trouble, it wouldn’t be her stepson’s fault. It would be... her husband’s.
“Oh, Donna, look how well he’s improved since he learnt self-defence,” Cleveland protested one Friday afternoon. “He’s become smarter, stronger and has more self-esteem than ever. I have never been prouder of him in my whole life.”
“And I waited fourteen years for you to say that,” said a very deep basso voice.
Cleveland and Donna jumped. They turned to see a very short but very muscular man. He was wearing a white shirt and black trousers.
“Oh, hi, son,” greeted Cleveland. “Every time you go to the gym, your voice is becoming less recognizable. So any more bullies today?”
“No,” replied Junior. “Not yet.”
“What do you mean, “not yet?” asked Cleveland. His answer was a punch in his face.
“Boy, those punches hurt more than Peter’s Giant Chicken’s!” Cleveland moaned.
“You wanna bet?” asked Ernie the Giant Chicken, grabbing Cleveland by his shirt and raising his fist. “Maybe you’ve been away from Family Guy for too long, but I am not, I repeat not, Peter’s Giant Chicken!” And, with that, he threw him to the other side of the room.
“Maybe having your own show does have its disadvantages,” moaned Cleveland.