It was time.
Her guitar was plugged in and tuned to the perfect pitch; her bassist fiddling with his picks, the drummer tapping his cymbal half heartedly. Maggie knew they didn't really go in for the whole grunge sound. But that was OK. All Maggie needed for her music was herself.
The year was 2014. With Lisa still getting over her recent break up with that British git Hugh Parkinson, and Bart still living at home, Maggie easily slipped away from her broken household as Marge and Homer placated and soothed the older two of the Simpson children. Sometimes Maggie felt left out, but she was fine. She had friends here at this bar that let her sing and play her heart out.
The red velvet curtain went up, clusters of middle aged men seated around the stained table, pints of beer going flat by the second. It wasn't a small bar, by any means, but it was big enough so that people were forced to look in her direction. Maggie liked it like that, people being forced to watch the younger generation strive for their dreams. She recognised several regulars in the pub, such as Mr. Burns, now fully de-frosted, and off course Duff Man. Gerald was sitting in the front row, his unibrow relaxed as he watched her. It slightly scared Maggie.
The first strum of her chord and her voice singing the song was enough for the men to perk up and listen, the, lights shining into her face.
But there was one person Maggie never expected her seventeen year old self to see in that bar.
Sideshow Bob.
He gazed at her, curious, a thin eyebrow raised at her appearance in his own bar. He hadn't changed a bit since Maggie had last seen him, when she was but a baby and he had tried out another ridiculous plan to kill her older oaf of a brother. True, he had small spider web lines littering his face, and his hair was a tad shorter, but it still unnerved Maggie for him to be watching her perform her songs.
Maggie swallowed, and carried on.
By the time the curtain had gone down, and her bassist had packed up for the night, Maggie was the only one left, gently polishing her guitar. It had cost her twenty weeks of saving and stealing any bit of money she could find, but Maggie would never regret it. That guitar was her baby.
"Hey Maggie." Gerald spoke, standing in front of her, watching her gently tuck her guitar into the bag.
Maggie swallowed, and looked up into his face. "Hey, Gerald."
"D'ya wanna hitch a ride back to you place with me?"
"Well thanks Gerald, but I'm afraid-"
"I'm afraid she's already booked a ride back with me." The silken voice uttered, as the unnamed hero stood behind her.
Gerald swallowed, and nodded.
"See ya around, Maggie."
As he walked away through the brightly lit door, Maggie turned around with a smile on her face.
"Why thank you-Bob?"
He nodded, never taking his eyes off Maggie.
"Yes, I'm afraid your knight in Shining armour is me."
No one was around in the small back area of the tavern.
"What do you want?"
Bob sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face.
"I didn't expect to see you here on my nightly prowl of the local taverns. I- well, the last time I saw you you were merely a small baby. Now, well, you have... Piercings! An actual voice!"
Maggie nodded stiffly. "I don't really like speaking. Better to be thought of as a fool, and all that."
Bob looked at her through his dark hazel eyes.
"Would you like a ride back to the old Simpsons Villa? I do so love conversing with a woman who can quote philosophy."
And against all her natural instincts, Maggie accepted the arm Bob held out to her.
The journey back to her house was relatively quiet; Bob hummed the tune to Carmen once in a while, his small car filled with the small noise. Maggie swallowed, and summoning all her courage, started talking.
"Are you giving me a lift back to get to Bart?"
Bob swallowed, and looked deep in thought.
"I have to admit the thought did cross my mind. But I do genuinely did want to give you a lift, maybe out of the spite in my heart to see that young teenage sap wet himself in my endeavour to do so."
Maggie laughed slightly, her clear blue eyes sparkling at his joke.
They pulled up outside Maggie's house, the sounds of Homer roaring and Marge screaming back at him whining through the street. Maggie blushed at him.
"I'm sorry I can't invite you back in, but you can see we're not the best of company at the moment."
Bob nodded, and frowned. "Are you sure you want to go into that cacophony?"
Maggie sighed, and stepped out of the car. "I don't have a choice."
Bob sighed and opened his wallet, searching for something. He pressed the piece of paper into Maggie's hand and whispered in her ear, "If you ever get in trouble."
As he drove off, the moon glinting down on Maggie through the night she opened her palm. Inside it was Bob's phone number.