Steve: I'm sorry. It's just..creative writing is hard, I can't do it.
Stan: Can't? We don't live in Ameri-can't, Steve we live in Ameri-ca. No, no, no, wait, we live in Ameri-can. No wait, that's not right, we are Ameri-can. W-where was I going with this?
Steve: Umm, I said creative writing is hard...
Stan: Oh! Yeah, yeah perseverance, Steve, it's all about perseverance. And if I Ameri-can't teach you about it, I have a friend who Ameri-will. Well, that sounded good. Had a bumpy start there, but I think I pulled it together.
Steve: Oh! I don't know what to write about.
Roger: [scoffs] I'm never gonna be a star. [swallows vodka] People are never gonna see me in Us Weekly and say "Ooh! Roger... picks up a vase just like us." [drops vase] "Ooh! Roger drops expensive vases just like us." "Ooh! Roger s... Roger starts to black out just like..."
[Stan is drinking coffee with Steve's writing teacher Mr. Durbin]
Mr. Durbin: That was a delightful visit Mr. Smith.
Stan: The pleasure is all mine. And thanks Lynn for the delicious maple scones!
Mr. Durbin's Son: Can we have another pony ride?
Stan: Oh no this horse has to get back to the stable...[Walks out but stops at the entry-way] Oh yeah uh...Mr. Durbin I forgot...I wanted to ask you...[He grabs Mr. Durbin, pins him to a wall and aims a cocked pistol at Mr. Durbin's forehead] WHY DO YOU HATE MY SON?????!!!! [Mr. Durbin's kids scream as well as Lynn Durbin] Shut up!!! Don't look at me!!! Get on the floor!!! [The kids duck] And you get me more maple scones Lynn!!! [Lynn runs off] Why are you failing my son???!!! Answer me dirtbag!!!!
Mr. Durbin: [Slowly and crying] He had his Japanese friend do his writing assignment...see?! [Hands Stan an essay in Japanese language]
Stan: [Calmly] Oh I see...[Smiles] Well goodnight.
Steve: Wait, you were trying to kill me? So this is all your fault!
Roger: Oh yeah, blame the alien, the cops'll eat that up. Sorry pal, you're going to jail, where they're gonna take your cherry...Jell-O..away..in the lunch line..after you're raped...in the shower.
Roger: Au revoir, stardom. [pushes cinder block, drags the doll the bottom, and Steve]
Steve: Argh! [Stan and Francine look below]
Roger: Oh, did I tie that to Steve's ankle? Guess I'm clumsy, like he wrote in the book. How do like that ending, Steve?!
Stan: [Reading letter] "Dear Mr. Smith, it is with great pleasure that we have decided to publish your book!"
Steve: What's going on?
Stan: I'm going to be published!! Oh, glorious day! All those wasted years of writing finally have meaning!!
Steve: But what about all that stuff about not needing recognition?
Stan: Oh that's what people say when they're dead inside. Now, let's see which one of my Patriot Pigeon books they're publishing! [Reads letter]Roger the Alien?!
Steve: Hey, that's the story I wrote for English!!
Roger: What?! [Happily] You wrote a story about me?!
Steve: I'll take that, Dad. Mr. Durbin said he was gonna submit my story to a publisher.
Stan: [Sadly] So it's not Patriot Pigeon Poops on Planned Parenthood?!!?
Roger: Watch it, Klaus, or I'm gonna cram this bad boy 20,000 leagues up your butt.
Stan (about Francine's roots in her hair): Ugh, Francine, when I look at your hair, I doubt I could eat the amount I want to vomit.
Roger: A book about me? (gasps) I'm gonna be a star! Steve, you're the best! Oh, my God, Stan, how upset are you? Seriously, on a scale from one to pissed. Oh, who gives a flying fig? I'm a star!
Francine: Anything for me?
Stan: (looking through the mail) Just a postcard that says your hair looks like crap. Hey, it's from me.
Steve: Anyway, Dad, my English teacher, Mr. Durbin, is your biggest fan. Can I get your autograph for him?
Stan: Sure. "To Mr. Durbin, keep on rockin'. Yours in Christ."
Hayley: Dad, that's Steve's report card.
Stan: Good God, Francine, your roots are showing!
Francine: I know. My hairdresser lost his touch when he decided he was straight. Apparently, it is a choice.
Stan: Yes, it is.
Francine: Absolutely. Anyway, the only good hairdresser left is Mr. Beauregard, but it's impossible to get an appointment unless you know somebody.
Klaus: But you do know somebody, Francine. You know Roger. Oh, wait, he's just a nobody.
Roger: (gasps) Don't... cry in front of the fish.
Roger: (while reading US Weekly) Stars, they're just like us. Ooh! Here's Tara Reid buying a gallon of vodka and a case of morning-after pills. I drink gallons of vodka. I should be a star.