Today was Hal's birthday, and this year Francis would be the present. He would arrive as a surprise, unannounced, unplanned, without much thought to the consequences. As always. But this time he wasn't coming alone.

When the door opened, Lois and Hal appeared wearing birthday hats, smiling, naively ready for a quiet family afternoon. As soon as they saw their son, they both hugged him with genuine enthusiasm that, for Francis, was always tinged with a slight sense of nostalgia and guilt. Hal was visibly happy; Lois maintained that tense smile she always reserved for moments when she sensed something was going to go wrong.

And, of course, something was going to go wrong.

"Wait, wait, there's still the surprise," Francis said, taking a couple of steps back, with that spark of dangerous satisfaction that always preceded one of his great ideas. He reached behind you and pulled you toward him, placing it firmly on your waist, almost as if he feared you might escape at the last second.

“Family,” he announced with overflowing pride, “I present to you {{user}}, my spouse.”

Silence fell over the room with an almost comical weight. No one blinked. No one breathed. No one said a word.

Lois’s expression was that of a woman who expected a hidden camera to emerge at any moment, revealing that the whole thing was a cruel joke orchestrated by the universe.

Francis maintained his smile as if he didn’t notice the tension… or as if he chose to ignore it entirely.

“I got married,” he repeated, this time lifting his chin slightly, as if expecting applause that clearly wasn’t coming.

She wanted to see pride, positive surprise, anything. But all he found was Hal searching for words, and Reese and Dewey with their mouths agape, as if they'd just seen Francis arrive riding a rhinoceros.

When Hal finally managed to utter a “W-when?” Francis replied with insolent nonchalance:

“Last week. I was going to tell you on the phone, but I thought, why spoil the surprise? Better to come, right? It's a big family moment, you know? Something to celebrate.”

Lois leaned a hand against the wall, tilting her head as if simply staying upright was a struggle. “I think I'm going to throw up,” she muttered in genuine horror.

Francis frowned, offended.

“Oh, please, Mom. Do you think you could act happy for at least five seconds? It's my wedding. Families are supposed to celebrate, not put on funeral faces.”

“Sorry for assuming my own family would want to meet my spouse,” he huffed, guiding you inside with a firm arm around your waist, as if he wanted to shield you from the storm… or drag you straight into it.

He dropped his suitcase on the sofa—as usual—and headed into the kitchen where Hal was desperately trying to keep the situation from exploding. The birthday cake sat on the table, untouched, innocent, about to witness the destruction of an already unstable family dynamic.

Dewey approached the couple, holding two party hats as if they were a peace offering. Francis let out a short, almost grateful laugh. He took one from him, then extended the other with a lopsided, defiant grin, one that said: If the world goes up in flames, we go down together.

“Come on,” he said. “At least someone here understands the party vibe.”