"Dad, I'm pretty sure you just bought the wrong size paper for the printer and didn’t want to admit it," Meg muttered, walking through the room.
They ran down to the living room to find Peter pinned to the floor. The massive drafting table had collapsed under the weight of his "masterpiece" attempts, and hundreds of blank 17x11 sheets of paper were scattered across the room like giant, rectangular snowflakes. I Griffin 17x11
"Peter, for the third time today, why did you buy a giant table meant for architects?" Lois asked, her hands on her hips as she stared at the massive wooden surface. "Dad, I'm pretty sure you just bought the
"Silence, Meg! You don't understand the complex spatial geometry of the 17x11 canvas!" Peter snapped. He turned back to his giant sheet of paper, where he had crudely drawn a stick figure on a bicycle labeled 'ME' flying over a giant shark labeled 'REALI-TIE'. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to finish my masterpiece. I call it The Great Leap Forward of Peter Griffin ." "Peter, for the third time today, why did
Upstairs, Brian was pacing back and forth in Stewie’s room, clutching a stack of the same 17x11 paper.
"Oh, incredibly jealous," Stewie deadpanned, finally looking up. "In fact, I’m so inspired by your artistic vision that I’ve decided to use your precious 17x11 canvas for something actually useful."
Lois sighed heavily, stepping over a stray blueprint of a giant laser that had floated down from the upstairs hallway. "I'm calling the trash company, Peter. From now on, we are strictly an 8.5x11 family."
