Chapter 1
It was a sunny Sunday morning. The usually-hectic house on Evergreen Terrace was somewhat peaceful that morning. Marge Simpson had prepared a breakfast for her family that could've only rivaled the town's local IHOP. They sat at the table, sweet-smelling and clean in their church apparel as they waited patiently for their meal.
"Ahhh...bacon...crispy, greasy, bacon...ahhhh," Homer said lazily, a long line of drool pouring from his mouth, as he eyed the plate of bacon, scrambled eggs and the tall stack of pancakes that Marge set in front of him. "Mmm, pancakes..." Homer took a knife and smeared a stick of butter on his pancakes. He then took the whole bottle of syrup and emptied it onto his pancakes.
"I don't think that's wise for your health, Dad," Lisa said as she chewed on a blueberry scone.
"So, you don't, eh?" Homer asked as she eyed her meat-free plate of blueberry scones, and strawberries and blueberries with soy-milk whipped cream.
"Nope."
"So, you don't, eh?"
"Nope."
"So, you don't, eh?"
"Nope."
"So, you don't-"
"Homer!" Marge said with a groan. "Don't start this early in the morning; we have to go to church, remember?"
"But I was just having fun," he said with his mouth full of food.
"Yes, I know," Marge said with a sigh.
Bart flung a piece of egg onto Lisa.
"Ow! Quit it!"
"Sorr-y!"
"What's your problem?"
"Nothing. I just wish I was Buddhist like you. Then I wouldn't have to go to church."
Lisa rolled her eyes. "Bart, choosing a faith is not about having to skip out on church. It's about finding your own beliefs and nurturing them by practice of the creed."
Bart and Homer exchanged unbelieving glances with each other.
"Whatever," they said in unison.
They ate in silence until Marge came downstairs. Marge was ready in her nice green sheath dress.
"Mom, do we have to go to church?" Bart asked as he looked as his tie in disdain.
"Yes, Bart, we do."
"But they kicked me out of church, remember?"
Marge sighed. How could she have forgotten? Last Sunday, while Reverend Lovejoy had given a very passionate sermon about the evils of terrorism and weapons, Bart had set up a stink bomb in the direction of the pulpit. It didn't help that he had also put a whoopee cushion in Ms. Lovejoy's seat so that when she sat down, it was the exact moment the offensive odor could be smelled by the entire congregation. Unfortunately, for some unexplainable reason, the entire pulpit became engulfed with flames. The fire spread towards the choir seats and towards the pews and everybody had to evacuate the church. The wildfire had destroyed much of the pulpit and the pews. Nobody was badly injured, but Reverend Lovejoy suffered a few second-degree burns. But deep in his heart and without even having to guess, he knew Bart Simpson was the perpetrator.
"In the name of God, Almighty Jehovah, The Great Adonai," the maimed Reverend yelled at Bart in his guttural voice that day, "may you suffer the consequences of such a great iniquity that you have thus committed, and thus, be taunted by Satan and his demons day and night, and may you spend your eternity in the fiery tormenting bottomless pits of hell as vultures peck your eyes and may you quench your everlasting thirst with the burning taste of unhallowed camphor, now and forevermore, in the name of Jesus!"
Marge cringed as she recalled the previous Sunday's incident. "Bart, you didn't have to start a fire in church."
"Hey, I didn't know it would start a fire. I only got it to stink up the place. You know, liven the old geyser's message a little. Make Hell seem more of a reality than of his senile concoctions."
Homer glared at Bart. "Why, you little-" he grabbed Bart's throat and started squeezing, but Marge gave Homer a stern look and he released Bart's neck.
"Look, guys, it's not going to be so bad," Lisa said. "I mean, didn't someone once say that things happen for a reason?"
"Yeah," Bart said. "I guess we're just not going to have to go to church anymore." Bart hid his complacent smirk with a slight pout.
"No," Marge said. "We're just going to have to find a new church, that's all. We can start from scratch with a clean slate and meet new people. Make new acquaintances and friends."
"Dammit," Bart muttered under his breath.
"What did you say, boy?" Homer asked him threateningly.
"Nothing." Bart sighed, but he kept it discreet.
"Would I have to go to church with you guys?" Lisa asked Marge.
"Absolutely. This could be an opportunity for you to meet new people."
"But, Mom, I'm Buddhist. Shouldn't I be trying to find people who share my faith?"
"Lisa, there's nothing wrong with going to church when it goes against your religion. Especially when it goes against your religion," Homer said after he swallowed an entire pancake. "Think of it as networking."
"I think you meant fellowship, Dad."
"No. It's networking, Lisa. Ha! You think you're so smart, but for once you're wrong!"
"Whatever," Lisa muttered.
"OK, now. Let's get into the car. We've got to get to church on time."
Homer tucked a small headset into his pocket while Bart and Lisa inwardly groaned. The family, led by Marge, walked to the car to start their Sunday morning
Chapter 2
After much driving around, the Simpsons finally found a church that seemed decent to them.
"Nice architecture," Marge commented on the building.
"Convenient to Moe's and Dunkin' Donuts," Homer said. "Oooh, and Hooters!"
Marge rolled her eyes. "Hrrrrmmmmph."
Maggie sucked on her pacifier.
Bart smiled evilly as he marveled at the size of the massive building. "How ideal. Must have many fire alarms to accommodate such an expanse."
Lisa shrugged. "At least it didn't sell out to commercialism or Mr. Burns."
The Simpsons got out of the car and walked into the church.
* * *
Marge clapped happily as the choir sang hymns while Homer clapped out of rhythm and listened with great attention to the football game broadcasted in his headset. Bart was throwing spitballs at the back of bald men's heads and Maggie was glaring at everyone. Lisa just stood at the pew and surveyed her family.
She winced as she surveyed each member. She often wondered how she got stuck with a family like this. She was a prodigy, practically a genius, but if anybody took one look at her family, no one would've known it. Her father worked every weekday at the nuclear power plant, and had possibly the IQ of an orangutan. Her father was always obsessed with food and other stupid stuff. Lisa couldn't for the life of her figure out what attracted her mother to him.
Marge was all right for a mother. She could be embarrassing sometimes, like when she was affectionate with Homer. But other than that, she was pretty decent.
Bart would've been OK, if the kids at school didn't always pit her against him all the time. How could she rival with her 17-year old brother? Everybody thought he was cool. He had possibly the lowest GPA in his grade, and he was every teacher's nightmare, and for goodness' sake, he still hung out with Milhous Van Houten! But no matter what Bart did, he happened to be every girl's idea of a hot date at school, and every single person thought Bart was either the coolest or funniest kid at school. Lisa was just his dweeby, brainy, saxophone-tooting loner of a sister; at least that's how people saw her.
Maggie was a...hmmm...well, Maggie was a rhymes-with-witch. Over the years, Maggie grew somehow to become a snobby little brat who spouted four- letter obscenities to any and everyone who crossed her path. Lisa used to love her little sister so much, but now to say that she loved her was rather pushing it these days.
The family sat down and the ushers passed plates of unleavened bread wafers and little cups of wine for communion.
"Mmm...bread wafers and wine," Homer said lustily as he took several dozen wafers and a few cups of wine from each plate.
Lisa cringed with shame as she observed his greed. "Good grief."
Bart and Marge took one of each, and passed it to Maggie who rejected both.
"Leave me the %$@# alone," she spat to them. With hesitation, Lisa took a wafer and a small cup of wine.
"Let us now partake of this communion," the Reverend said from his pulpit. He said a small prayer, and then continued with the communion. "Jesus said 'take eat, this is my body-'"
"Ohmn--ohmn--crunch. Mmmm... Jesus' body," Homer stuffed some of the wafers into his mouth while the Reverend spoke.
"Homer," Marge whispered. "He was just giving the supplication. It's not time to eat it yet!"
"Oops," Homer said. "Might as well drink Jesus' blood now." He downed all the cups of wine. "Mmm, that was great. I need more." He raised his hands and waved them wildly until an usher came toward him. "Waiter, more of Jesus' blood, please."
"Oh, God," Lisa muttered as she buried her head in her lap.
A few rows across, Mary Camden elbowed her sister, Lucy.
"Ow! What did you do that for, Mary?" Lucy winced as she rubbed her elbow.
"Check it out! A fat guy's stuffing his face with communion bread as if he's never eaten before!"
Lucy turned around and let out a low giggle. "Check out the woman he's sitting next to. She's got blue hair big enough to be noticed at the Country Music Awards!"
Lucy and Mary giggled softly, but soon stopped when they felt their older brother's eyes on them.
"Cease and desist with that," Matt said sternly.
"Oh, lighten up," Mary said. "Shouldn't you be canoodling with your wife, Sarah?"
"This isn't the time or the place for playing around. Those people you're laughing at could be visitors!"
"Well, I don't think they'd be regular church-goers if they take communion before it's time," their younger sister Ruthie said. "What about you, Simon?"
Simon was out of it, completely engrossed in observing the family sitting two rows away from them. They were a rather strange bunch. Their actions, their words, and of course, their appearance. There was that young girl who seemed to utter audible curses every other minute, and not to mention that fat guy. And the boy was blatantly rude, and the girl sitting next to him was very quiet. Maybe she was really shy. Or just possibly sad or morose. Maybe they just moved from another town and she was nostalgic about her past. Oh, well. That was life. Simon turned around and paid attention to his father at the pulpit.
The church service was finally over. Lisa was happy; she really wanted to go home. Plus, she noticed that guy from two pews over, staring at her mysteriously as if she was a Mona Lisa painting. He was cute, and fascinating, but she found him somewhat weird. He had such light gold spun- colored hair and stained-glass sea blue eyes and a face that looked like nirvana. Peaceful and full of bliss as well. But the way he kept staring at her for awhile had been quite creepy. In fact, just thinking about it made her skin crawl. She suddenly desired to leave the church and go home as soon as humanly possible.
"Come on, guys, let's go," she said. She and her family got up to leave. They were about to make their exit from the door, when the blond-haired boy came toward Lisa and stuck out his hand. His blue eyes locked into her eyes, and to even move one centimeter away from his eyes was difficult for Lisa.
"Hi, I'm Simon Camden. Welcome to our church. What's your name?"
"Lisa. Lisa Simpson."
It was a sunny Sunday morning. The usually-hectic house on Evergreen Terrace was somewhat peaceful that morning. Marge Simpson had prepared a breakfast for her family that could've only rivaled the town's local IHOP. They sat at the table, sweet-smelling and clean in their church apparel as they waited patiently for their meal.
"Ahhh...bacon...crispy, greasy, bacon...ahhhh," Homer said lazily, a long line of drool pouring from his mouth, as he eyed the plate of bacon, scrambled eggs and the tall stack of pancakes that Marge set in front of him. "Mmm, pancakes..." Homer took a knife and smeared a stick of butter on his pancakes. He then took the whole bottle of syrup and emptied it onto his pancakes.
"I don't think that's wise for your health, Dad," Lisa said as she chewed on a blueberry scone.
"So, you don't, eh?" Homer asked as she eyed her meat-free plate of blueberry scones, and strawberries and blueberries with soy-milk whipped cream.
"Nope."
"So, you don't, eh?"
"Nope."
"So, you don't, eh?"
"Nope."
"So, you don't-"
"Homer!" Marge said with a groan. "Don't start this early in the morning; we have to go to church, remember?"
"But I was just having fun," he said with his mouth full of food.
"Yes, I know," Marge said with a sigh.
Bart flung a piece of egg onto Lisa.
"Ow! Quit it!"
"Sorr-y!"
"What's your problem?"
"Nothing. I just wish I was Buddhist like you. Then I wouldn't have to go to church."
Lisa rolled her eyes. "Bart, choosing a faith is not about having to skip out on church. It's about finding your own beliefs and nurturing them by practice of the creed."
Bart and Homer exchanged unbelieving glances with each other.
"Whatever," they said in unison.
They ate in silence until Marge came downstairs. Marge was ready in her nice green sheath dress.
"Mom, do we have to go to church?" Bart asked as he looked as his tie in disdain.
"Yes, Bart, we do."
"But they kicked me out of church, remember?"
Marge sighed. How could she have forgotten? Last Sunday, while Reverend Lovejoy had given a very passionate sermon about the evils of terrorism and weapons, Bart had set up a stink bomb in the direction of the pulpit. It didn't help that he had also put a whoopee cushion in Ms. Lovejoy's seat so that when she sat down, it was the exact moment the offensive odor could be smelled by the entire congregation. Unfortunately, for some unexplainable reason, the entire pulpit became engulfed with flames. The fire spread towards the choir seats and towards the pews and everybody had to evacuate the church. The wildfire had destroyed much of the pulpit and the pews. Nobody was badly injured, but Reverend Lovejoy suffered a few second-degree burns. But deep in his heart and without even having to guess, he knew Bart Simpson was the perpetrator.
"In the name of God, Almighty Jehovah, The Great Adonai," the maimed Reverend yelled at Bart in his guttural voice that day, "may you suffer the consequences of such a great iniquity that you have thus committed, and thus, be taunted by Satan and his demons day and night, and may you spend your eternity in the fiery tormenting bottomless pits of hell as vultures peck your eyes and may you quench your everlasting thirst with the burning taste of unhallowed camphor, now and forevermore, in the name of Jesus!"
Marge cringed as she recalled the previous Sunday's incident. "Bart, you didn't have to start a fire in church."
"Hey, I didn't know it would start a fire. I only got it to stink up the place. You know, liven the old geyser's message a little. Make Hell seem more of a reality than of his senile concoctions."
Homer glared at Bart. "Why, you little-" he grabbed Bart's throat and started squeezing, but Marge gave Homer a stern look and he released Bart's neck.
"Look, guys, it's not going to be so bad," Lisa said. "I mean, didn't someone once say that things happen for a reason?"
"Yeah," Bart said. "I guess we're just not going to have to go to church anymore." Bart hid his complacent smirk with a slight pout.
"No," Marge said. "We're just going to have to find a new church, that's all. We can start from scratch with a clean slate and meet new people. Make new acquaintances and friends."
"Dammit," Bart muttered under his breath.
"What did you say, boy?" Homer asked him threateningly.
"Nothing." Bart sighed, but he kept it discreet.
"Would I have to go to church with you guys?" Lisa asked Marge.
"Absolutely. This could be an opportunity for you to meet new people."
"But, Mom, I'm Buddhist. Shouldn't I be trying to find people who share my faith?"
"Lisa, there's nothing wrong with going to church when it goes against your religion. Especially when it goes against your religion," Homer said after he swallowed an entire pancake. "Think of it as networking."
"I think you meant fellowship, Dad."
"No. It's networking, Lisa. Ha! You think you're so smart, but for once you're wrong!"
"Whatever," Lisa muttered.
"OK, now. Let's get into the car. We've got to get to church on time."
Homer tucked a small headset into his pocket while Bart and Lisa inwardly groaned. The family, led by Marge, walked to the car to start their Sunday morning
Chapter 2
After much driving around, the Simpsons finally found a church that seemed decent to them.
"Nice architecture," Marge commented on the building.
"Convenient to Moe's and Dunkin' Donuts," Homer said. "Oooh, and Hooters!"
Marge rolled her eyes. "Hrrrrmmmmph."
Maggie sucked on her pacifier.
Bart smiled evilly as he marveled at the size of the massive building. "How ideal. Must have many fire alarms to accommodate such an expanse."
Lisa shrugged. "At least it didn't sell out to commercialism or Mr. Burns."
The Simpsons got out of the car and walked into the church.
* * *
Marge clapped happily as the choir sang hymns while Homer clapped out of rhythm and listened with great attention to the football game broadcasted in his headset. Bart was throwing spitballs at the back of bald men's heads and Maggie was glaring at everyone. Lisa just stood at the pew and surveyed her family.
She winced as she surveyed each member. She often wondered how she got stuck with a family like this. She was a prodigy, practically a genius, but if anybody took one look at her family, no one would've known it. Her father worked every weekday at the nuclear power plant, and had possibly the IQ of an orangutan. Her father was always obsessed with food and other stupid stuff. Lisa couldn't for the life of her figure out what attracted her mother to him.
Marge was all right for a mother. She could be embarrassing sometimes, like when she was affectionate with Homer. But other than that, she was pretty decent.
Bart would've been OK, if the kids at school didn't always pit her against him all the time. How could she rival with her 17-year old brother? Everybody thought he was cool. He had possibly the lowest GPA in his grade, and he was every teacher's nightmare, and for goodness' sake, he still hung out with Milhous Van Houten! But no matter what Bart did, he happened to be every girl's idea of a hot date at school, and every single person thought Bart was either the coolest or funniest kid at school. Lisa was just his dweeby, brainy, saxophone-tooting loner of a sister; at least that's how people saw her.
Maggie was a...hmmm...well, Maggie was a rhymes-with-witch. Over the years, Maggie grew somehow to become a snobby little brat who spouted four- letter obscenities to any and everyone who crossed her path. Lisa used to love her little sister so much, but now to say that she loved her was rather pushing it these days.
The family sat down and the ushers passed plates of unleavened bread wafers and little cups of wine for communion.
"Mmm...bread wafers and wine," Homer said lustily as he took several dozen wafers and a few cups of wine from each plate.
Lisa cringed with shame as she observed his greed. "Good grief."
Bart and Marge took one of each, and passed it to Maggie who rejected both.
"Leave me the %$@# alone," she spat to them. With hesitation, Lisa took a wafer and a small cup of wine.
"Let us now partake of this communion," the Reverend said from his pulpit. He said a small prayer, and then continued with the communion. "Jesus said 'take eat, this is my body-'"
"Ohmn--ohmn--crunch. Mmmm... Jesus' body," Homer stuffed some of the wafers into his mouth while the Reverend spoke.
"Homer," Marge whispered. "He was just giving the supplication. It's not time to eat it yet!"
"Oops," Homer said. "Might as well drink Jesus' blood now." He downed all the cups of wine. "Mmm, that was great. I need more." He raised his hands and waved them wildly until an usher came toward him. "Waiter, more of Jesus' blood, please."
"Oh, God," Lisa muttered as she buried her head in her lap.
A few rows across, Mary Camden elbowed her sister, Lucy.
"Ow! What did you do that for, Mary?" Lucy winced as she rubbed her elbow.
"Check it out! A fat guy's stuffing his face with communion bread as if he's never eaten before!"
Lucy turned around and let out a low giggle. "Check out the woman he's sitting next to. She's got blue hair big enough to be noticed at the Country Music Awards!"
Lucy and Mary giggled softly, but soon stopped when they felt their older brother's eyes on them.
"Cease and desist with that," Matt said sternly.
"Oh, lighten up," Mary said. "Shouldn't you be canoodling with your wife, Sarah?"
"This isn't the time or the place for playing around. Those people you're laughing at could be visitors!"
"Well, I don't think they'd be regular church-goers if they take communion before it's time," their younger sister Ruthie said. "What about you, Simon?"
Simon was out of it, completely engrossed in observing the family sitting two rows away from them. They were a rather strange bunch. Their actions, their words, and of course, their appearance. There was that young girl who seemed to utter audible curses every other minute, and not to mention that fat guy. And the boy was blatantly rude, and the girl sitting next to him was very quiet. Maybe she was really shy. Or just possibly sad or morose. Maybe they just moved from another town and she was nostalgic about her past. Oh, well. That was life. Simon turned around and paid attention to his father at the pulpit.
The church service was finally over. Lisa was happy; she really wanted to go home. Plus, she noticed that guy from two pews over, staring at her mysteriously as if she was a Mona Lisa painting. He was cute, and fascinating, but she found him somewhat weird. He had such light gold spun- colored hair and stained-glass sea blue eyes and a face that looked like nirvana. Peaceful and full of bliss as well. But the way he kept staring at her for awhile had been quite creepy. In fact, just thinking about it made her skin crawl. She suddenly desired to leave the church and go home as soon as humanly possible.
"Come on, guys, let's go," she said. She and her family got up to leave. They were about to make their exit from the door, when the blond-haired boy came toward Lisa and stuck out his hand. His blue eyes locked into her eyes, and to even move one centimeter away from his eyes was difficult for Lisa.
"Hi, I'm Simon Camden. Welcome to our church. What's your name?"
"Lisa. Lisa Simpson."