Author's Note: I really have my reservations about writing this story. I mean, yeah, it's only a fanfic and not actually a story they're going to use for the last episode, but it still feels like a tall order. So…I don't know how well it'll turn out. I just know that it's probably going to be awfully long! If it ever was made into a real episode, it would have to be a multi-parter! Anyway, I'll try my hardest to keep everyone in character and add humor, although it won't be too jokey as that's not my style. I plan on resolving some recurring themes and you can let me know if you ideas for some others. Also, feel free to suggest other names for the title…I'm not too attached to this one.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Simpsons.
Chapter One
Marge Simpson awoke to the sound of water running in the shower and her husband singing an off-key and inaccurate version of Kanye West's "Stronger":
"Do you know how long I've been warnin' ya?
Since the pickles dumped acid on ya
Since OJ and Ibuprofen
Don't smash my wife's new victrola!
Don't act like you get leftovers!
Mmm…leftovers…"
Marge groaned and rolled over to glance at the bedside clock. Her sleepy eyes bugged wide open. 6:30?!
"Homer!" she gasped as he stepped into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, ""You're up early! And bathing voluntarily! What gives?"
Homer chuckled and stooped to kiss her brow, which was furrowed in confusion.
"I want to get to the power plant early so I can quit my old job and be on time for my new one!" he replied cheerily.
Though this turn of events was hardly anything new, Marge's mouth still fell open a little in surprise and she exclaimed, "You got a new job? When were you planning on telling me?!"
Homer crossed his arms over his chest. "Hmph! Well, I fail to see how this is any concern of yours!"
"Homer…" Marge muttered dangerously, glaring at him.
"Fine, fine!" he said. He took a deep breath. "I got a new job as a party planner!" he explained excitedly, good humor returning "It's a natural fit for a big, fat party animal like me! Now, since I'm up so early…" he lowered his voice suggestively, "What say we start the day off right. Rrrrowl!"
Marge giggled as he joined her on the bed and started to drop his towel…
And quickly caught it wand wrapped it back around his curvaceous body as the bedroom door swung open and there stood Lisa.
"Lisa!" He scolded angrily, "Haven't you heard of knocking first?"
"I'm sorry, Dad, but I need to talk to Mom. Mom, remember you promised to drive me to school early today?"
She hadn't remembered. If it wasn't for Homer's shower serenade she'd have overslept. Guilt flooded over Marge as her eyes darted back and forth. "Why, of course, honey…"
"Lisa!" Homer interrupted her, addressing his daughter, "Why would you want to be at school any longer than you have to?"
"Because," Lisa replied irritably, hands on hips seeming as usual mush older than her eight years, "The mayor's youth council is going to be there today! The school year's almost over, and they're going to pick two junior members out of the new third grade class starting up this fall! That's me!
"What, a member of the new third grade class or a junior member of the Mayor's wiener brigade?" piped up a voice from behind Lisa. It was, of course, Bart. "God, you're cocky, Lis."
He ignored his sister's glare and gritted teeth, yawning and stretching luxuriously. "Ah! Two more weeks! Summer's so close, I can almost smell it come wafting in on a breeze, like the scent of a hotdog from the ballparks made so crowded by that season that you end up mashed up under some stranger's sweaty, salty armpit." Pretty poetic for Bart.
Homer's mouth had begun to water at the part about the hotdog…or so it would seem.
"Mmm…salty armpits…"
Lisa tugged at her mother's nightgown. "Mom! Hurry up and get dressed! Don't forget the assembly starts at seven!"
Marge dashed into the bathroom to get ready.
"Wait!" Homer said suddenly, "The school year's over in two more weeks? Boy, it feels like you kids have been in the same grade for about twenty years!"
