Sons of Evil
1
Francesca cringed. She hated being in this dark, degrading cell. She longed to be back in Italy again…Oh, her beloved Italy! How she missed it…
"Mother! What is wrong with Daddy?" little Gino asked, and Francesca glanced sadly down at her son. He was sitting in her lap, gazing up at her with those big, round eyes of his.
"Oh, darling Gino," she whispered, burying her face in her son's fiery red hair. "I don't know…"
Gino leaped up. Glaring at her accusingly, he shouted, "You do know! It's that Simpson boy! I kill him, him and his whole family! I'll kill them for what they did to Daddy!"
Francesca smiled weakly. She had no control over the boy. He was too much like his father, who was curled up in the floor with his body encased in a straight jacket.
"What's the matter, my son? You're plotting against me, aren't you? You little twit!" Bob Terwilliger roared, rocking back and forth against the wall. Francesca ignored her deranged husband and turned her attention upon her son.
"Gino, baby," she whispered, bringing her son close. "Listen to me, listen to your mother. You've got to get out of here. You've got a chance. Take it. Be brave, my son," she finished her speech and planted a wet kiss on her son's cheek. Gino made a face.
"Eek. Don't worry, Mother. I'll kill that Bart Simpson boy. I'll kill his Mommy and Daddy, too," he promised. From the nearby chess table that stood in the cell, Cecil, Bob's younger brother, let out a curse.
"Oh, see what you've done now? I lost again!" he cried, sweeping the chess pieces from the board. Francesca winced as they hit the floor.
"I think you just suck at this game, prissy," Snake growled, his muscles rippling as he stood up from the seat he had been sitting in. Glaring at Cecil, he threatened, "You want to have a different kind of match?"
Cecil, quivering in his chair, gulped. "P-perhaps some other t-time. Right now I b-believe my brother is in need of some attention, right, brother?"
Bob cackled madly.
"You're wasting your breath on him. He always was the odd one," his mother grumbled. Francesca stared at her. The old woman rarely talked and when she did…she didn't say much. Bob's father was the same way.
Gino's eyes were blazing. "I'm getting that Simpson boy, Mother!" he vowed once more. "You just wait and see!"
2
Bart screamed. He sat up from his bed, sweating profusely. Gasping for breath, he creatively swore when he realized he had just experienced the very same nightmare he had been having for the past several months.
"Bart! What is it with you?" Lisa demanded, stalking into his room. Bart scowled.
"None of your business! Get out of my room!" he snapped, standing up from the bed. Lisa shook her head.
"Oh, Bart…there is something very wrong with you. Can't you tell me?" she asked, her voice becoming timid. Bart hung his head and shuffled about his room.
"Sis, this dream I've been having…it's a nightmare! In it, I keep on seeing Gino, Bob's son, you know? He keeps on coming at me…with a knife!" he cried, dramatically stabbing his finger at Lisa's chest. Making his eyes big and menacing, he continued, "And all I can see is his big, red eyes glowing in the darkness that is only penetrated by the bloody, gleaming knife he has in his hands!"
Lisa screamed. "You got to tell Mom and Dad!" she cried, backing out of the doorway as Bart ushered her out of his room.
Bart shook his head, his expression crazed. "No, Lisa. Mom and Dad cannot find out about this. I've got to settle this myself. I've got to find a knife!" He quickly swerved passed her and pounded down the steps. Desperate, Lisa followed after him.
"You can't do this, Bart!" she called after him, chasing him down the staircase and into the kitchen. When they got there, Bart began to search the drawers and cabinets. Lisa knew he was searching for a knife.
"I can, Lisa! I can because I'm crazy, crazy enough to do it!" he hissed, reaching into one of the drawers and pulling out a shiny, sharp knife. Gripping the weapon's handle, he aimed it at one of his hands, which he had placed across the table.
"Bart, no!" Lisa screamed, pulling at his arm. With a frustrated grunt Bart pushed her away. Hurt, Lisa began to sob and sunk to the floor.
"Mom! Dad!" she wailed, praying that her parents were awake in their bedroom, where they could probably hear her if she screamed loud enough. Bart made a low, evil chuckle.
"They can't hear you, Lisa. They're not here anymore," he snarled, conjuring a twisted look of madness across his boyish face. Lisa was screaming now.
"What did you do?!" she shouted. Bart howled with laughter.
"I killed them, Lisa. I killed them so Gino wouldn't. They're safe in heaven now, with God. Do you want to go to heaven, too, Lisa?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. Lisa scooted away from him.
"What's happen to you Bart? Why are you doing this?" she croaked. Bart threw the knife at her and she ducked. The tip of the blade barely missed her face.
Bart, listening to the blade lodge itself into the wall, didn't speak up for several minutes. When he finally did, he crowed, "Because I'm the Bartman! I can do anything I want!"
Lisa sighed helplessly and buried her face in her hands. She couldn't take this. She had to get out of here alive. She just had to, before she ended up like her parents.
"Where are you going?" Bart howled after her. He was dancing around in his Bartman costume as she sped for the door.
"I'm getting out of here!" she cried, reaching for the doorknob. She started to turn it and began to panic when it wouldn't open. Bart screamed delightedly.
"See, Lisa, you're dead now! You've got nowhere to run!" he laughed, and lunged at her. As he fell on top of her, Lisa dropped to the floor. Wrestling with her brother, she steered him toward the wall. She had to get that knife.
"You fight pretty well, for a sissy girl!" Bart was cackling as she pulled away from him. She finally had herself pressed against the wall. If she reached her hand up a few more inches she would be able to get the knife…
"Ha! You're nothing but a dumb brother, after all!" she cried, triumphantly, grasping the knife's hilt in her hands. Laughing insanely, she managed to crawl out from under her brother. Standing behind his back, she aimed the knife at his spine.
3
"Aw, this story sucks! I don't want to hear anymore!" Bart whined, rolling his eyes to the ceiling of the tree house. Lisa, who was sitting on the other side of the lantern that her and her brother had salvaged from their home, sighed.
"You just don't like it because you're dying!" she said, throwing her hands up in frustration. Sitting next to Bart on the wooden floor, Milhouse giggled.
"You look funny, Lisa," he hiccupped, covering his mouth with a shaky hand. He and Bart had just drunk a funky-looking punch that they had received while trick-or-treating and it was making them both act unusual. Lisa, who hadn't drunk any of the stuff, was perfectly normal.
"Fine, then. This story is over," she concluded, standing up. She was starting to climb back down the tree house when Bart halted her.
"Wait! What happens to me?" he wondered. Lisa gave him a mischievous look.
"You really want to know?" she taunted. Bart nodded.
"Sure, why not. Do I die?" he questioned. Lisa grinned.
"You have to wait and see," she whispered, and descended rapidly to the ground. Bart and Milhouse shot each other wearied glances.
"Is she serious?" Milhouse wondered. Bart was asking himself the same question. He could only imagine what his sister was up to.
4
Consumed by a fit of giggles, Lisa journeyed back into the house. Greeting her parents, who were cleaning up the decorations they had displayed for the Halloween party they had thrown that night, Lisa sauntered upstairs to her room.
When she got there, she rummaged through her drawers and pulled out a gleaming knife. There were two sons of evil in her story, she remembered, and one of them was in for a surprise.
THE END