Hey everybody! It's Doctor Mick hahaha. Yeah, that was bad, shut up xD. Anyways this is my new story, I had just finished watching The Simpsons Movie for the millionth time and…an idea came to me. What if the dome stayed on Springfield? What if Homer, Marge and Maggie were long gone? What happened to Bart, Lisa and their older sister (my OC) Tiffany? This story is going to include my OC's Tiff Simpson (Carla Rose), Faye Jones, Sadie Grimes, Aiden & Evan O'Brecht, Raine LaChance, Racy Raquel Rockslide and any other character I make up. I'm accepting OC's and would LOVE reviews to see what you think of this random ass story!!! R&R my lovelies
~Sweet Nightmares
~Mick, AKA Hollywood Grimm
Disclaimer: I own the plot and my characters; everything else is sadly not mine
The Brat Princess
Chapter 1; Bleach Blonde
It's been five years. Five fucking years inside this dome…
Hi there. My name is Tiffany, Tiffany Carla Simpson to be precise… but I wouldn't dare go by that, I call myself Carla Rose because in the wrecked apocalyptic town of Springfield the Simpsons are hated. One thing you should know about me is that my hair is or…should I grudgingly say was my pride; I miss it more than I miss my own family. But, so people won't recognize me, I was forced to bleach it to the point where it's white as snow with a hint of gold. I curl it every morning with a heated up iron, I know its dead…I pack it with hairspray and backcomb it…some say my hair resembles a lions mane. I remember my old hair, it was long and stick straight and jagged and it was strawberry blonde, fiery just like my personality. I miss my old friends Raine LaChance and Sadie Grimes…I wear brown contacts to cover up the blue grey of my eyes every single goddamned day. I rub cover-up over my garnet freckles so my face is all American white, I got rid of all my old clothes…but on the odd occasion I still wear old band t-shirts, ratty Converse and torn up jeans…a blue bandana tied around my head now instead of my prized red one. I left home a year after my moronic father Homer dumped his barrel of 'pig crap' into Lake Springfield which got the EPA on our case…resulting in Springfield being secluded in an unbreakable glass dome. Homer, Marge and Maggie escaped to Alaska…Bart lives with the Flanders as far as I know…and Lisa…I only wish I knew what happened to my genius little sister. I haven't seen any of them in four years. I left to live in the dirty outskirts of South Springfield, where most people were too occupied with getting their next hit to notice the daughter of a traitor in their midst. I bleached my hair with peroxide and started curling it, found a stash of colored contact lenses in an abandoned corner store, white-ed out my freckles and began dressing in clothes stolen from the deceased Mrs. Muntz' trashy closet. And then I started doing something I thought I'd never do…but people do crazy things when they need the money…that was my case, so instead of modestly becoming a waitress (not that there was a necessity for them in this insane free for all) or something…I strip, I get good pay, even work in Moe's a few nights a week, my father is long gone so I have no worries of being found out. I've done some things that I regret…scratch that…I've done LOTS of things that I regret, like for example having sex with countless men just so I would forget who I really am…but more so…I regret losing my red hair, my flaming crown of fucking glory. Did you know that by 2040 redheads are supposedly gonna be extinct? Didn't think so. I'm just helping to kill the race. Damn. I really do miss my family…well especially Bart and Lisa…Bart, the little trouble maker, ever the rebel without a cause…he's fifteen now…if he's even alive. I pine to see beautiful blonde super-smart Lisa alive and shining, her blue eyes bright, always standing up for the right thing, but I have no idea what has become of her. I miss my two best friends, Goth-even-in-childhood Raine and quiet but witty Sadie. Mostly…for some unknown reason I miss Jimbo Jones and his lackeys, the way they used to pick on me. I hated Jimbo as a kid…but thinking about it now…I wish that I could see him, I wonder if his voice is still raspy and cruel…I wonder if he still refuses to cut his hair…I wonder if his teasing was really because he harbored some rejected emotion towards me, the bratty red headed tomboy Tiffany. He used to call me 'The Brat Princess', the name stuck, people called me it until the day I disappeared into the slums of Springfield never to be heard of again.
"Hey, you"
I swing around to face the person talking to me, he looks to be around twenty, maybe younger, and he's unshaven, pallid, obviously a drug user…just like everyone else on the Southern side of Springfield. "Yeah?" I smirk; I'm wearing layers and layers of fire engine red lipstick, there's a silver stud beneath the middle of my lower lip, I pierced it myself with the tip of a syringe when I was fifteen.
"Are you Carla-Cums-Alot?"
Yes. THAT monstrosity is my stripper name; my friend Racy Rockslide dubbed me it, her real name is Raquel but everyone calls her Racy…cept for me. I smile seductively, almost laughing, pulling at the low-cut collar of my black leather corset. Kinky. "That's me"
The man pulls two fifty dollar bills from the pocket of his ruined blue jeans and hands them to me, a sadistic grin that shows off his smoker yellow teeth on his sickly face. "Baby, be mine for an hour" he flashes the delicious looking bills in front of my face, my eyes, contact brown, follow the money.
"Mmm, honey I'm a stripper not a whore" I say, flipping my fake white blonde curls back haughtily.
"Come on, I know you need the money, I see you on the streets beggin'" the man exclaims roughly
I stand up, the heels of my faded cheetah spotted Stiletto's leaving pock marks on the carpeted floor of the pool hall. "I aint no whore" I growl predatorily "I think you should leave now"
The man stands, so close that I can smell the stale cigarettes on his breath, I smoke too…but at least I chaw on some gum afterwards…yes GUM not CUM perv. Mint is my favorite flavor. Did I mention that I dreadfully miss my red hair? I did didn't I, oh well. "Listen here Miss Carla" the man sneers mockingly, I really wanna deck this asshole in the teeth. "You do what I say" he pins me against the wall, I raise a fist to punch but before I can actually do it he seizes my arms. Fuck. "You either do what I say, or I'll MAKE you do it"
Surprisingly after four years on the sleazy side of town, filled with druggies, mobsters, killers and whores I've never been raped once, and I plan to keep it that way. "Well guess what mister" I smile saccharinely, a fake smile that I've gained over the years.
"What bitch" he speaks from between clenched dank teeth, it makes me sick to my stomach.
"FUCK YOU" I shriek, he backs up in shock and with lightening speed I ball up my fist and nail him one in the face. Win, I grin triumphantly and spit on the floor beside his head, blood trickles from his lip where I've broken it. "Go back onto the street, you fucking scumbag!" I yell with bite in my voice. Security guards approach me on either side and I explain my story, I know these guys. I giggle as the two men throw the dirt bag rapist out of the hall, he screams a chain of swears as he's tossed out. "Thanks Carl, Lenny" They nod at me and smile. If only they knew who I really was.
After Carl and Lenny leave Miss Racy Rockslide comes out from behind the purple velveteen curtains, hands on hips, and smirks. "Damn Carla, you really decked that boy"
"Hello to you too Raquel" I snarl, batting my mascara blackened lashes angrily. I have to wear mascara every day otherwise my eyelashes are golden red, which would reveal my true color. God knows we can't have that.
The brunette stripper rolls her hazel eyes; they're lined with tons of black eyeliner, her collagen pumped lips are purple with gloss. "You sure can throw a punch girl" she chuckles "Oh" her brown-green eyes size up a tall young East Indian man as he enters the bar. "Mmm, look at that hot stuff"
I roll my eyes…hating that they're not my natural blue grey, I hate keeping my true self boxed up and filed away in the back of my mind. HATE it. "Yes Raquel…hot stuff" He looks a lot like Apu…I remember the owner of the Kwiki Mart fondly.
"I'm gonna go chat him up" Raquel winks lustily and kisses my cheek, it's her goodbye gesture, lets me know that she's about to leave and going to go try to get into yet ANOTHER unsuspecting guy's pants.
"Have fun" I sigh, this whole stripper thing has never really been my scene. I wanna be the singer of a rock band; Axl Rose is my idol, the ginger haired, red bandana wearing prince of rock 'n' roll. Now you know why I go by Carla Rose…but it is not Carla Rose who wants to go to LA California and make it big, it is not Carla Rose who misses her strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin and freckles. No, that person, that dreamer is the ginger tomboy rocker Tiffany Simpson. And I will ALWAYS be Tiffany Simpson; I don't think I can be Carla Rose much longer. I want my true identity back, I want my hair back, damn this bleach blonde. And mostly, I want to be The Brat Princess once more.