Prologue of a kinda dark Simpsons story. Using Sideshow Cellophane's Life story later on, with a bad guy (if you've read it, you know who I'm talking about) from it. But it's about Cecil Terwilliger's life (Sideshow Bob's brother), and he's definitely going to be in here. Enjoy!
"Mom, may I have a cigarette?" she said this as if it hurt. Probably did, knowing her.
"Not in front of Maggie—
Always as if I'm not here
"She's only six. Go smoke in the park."
Lisa made a huffing sound. "Why not in the back yard? Or is it 'cause you're afraid Flanders'll see me?"
"It's because I'm ashamed to have a daughter who smokes thirteen years into life! You're going to die of lung cancer at twenty!"
"Hey, I have…" she counted on her fingers, "8 years then!"
"You have seven, Lis," I said, "seven years if it is so." But she didn't hear me from my corner on the sofa. It was so sad. I can still recall how smart she used to be. Sometimes I ponder over what happened. Maybe puberty? Just being a Simpson? The will to learn was lost when Moe had a heart attack, and Moe's closed, causing the black market to open?
"Listen…just go," mother said softly. She was a bit too soft, I guess. If Lisa weren't stronger and older, than I would definitely tell her what she has become.
"Fine. Be back at usual time, I guess."
One day, she just gave up. Just like a snap, she threw away a promising life. Bart isn't any better. Hell, he's worse!
Lisa left, and mother walked back into the kitchen. "Maggie, come help me," she called.
"Coming, mother," I got up and went in. This was the dangerous part. Everything had to be absolutely perfect for Daddy. The last thing I needed today was another lesson, with what was coming. It was already gonna be hard.
We started on his favorite steak dinner, with mashed potatoes and two of Mother's famous death-by-chocolate cakes. We were thinking about pumpkin pie, my favorite, but it was (and I quote) "too healthy."
Usually, it was just her and I in the house until dinner, when everybody would come in within ten minutes of us laying out the food, but Bart got here early. With his exact same bottle of pills. Always with the pills. When nobody was around, Mother called them "drugs," but that was when she was 100% sure even Mr. Flanders wasn't around. Otherwise, Daddy would teach her a lesson, too. He only did it to us, though, but we deserved it. Everything needed to be perfect. He taught us all that.