Behind the Bartman

Behind the Bartman

Behind the Bartman

Disclaimer: I do not own The Simpsons, therefore, you have no grounds to sue me.

Again, some explanations are warranted. Unfortunately, Springfield After Dark is discontinued and in order to proceed with The Springfield Chronicles, I've taken that story down. Check my profile for a more in-depth explanation.

--

He was never known as the model child. He would never become 'America's Brightest Student'. He would never win awards for the most selfless person in Springfield. Pretty much everything a child should be, Bart Simpson wasn't. So why was the boy such an enigma? What came to the surface was only one fraction of what made up 'America's Favorite Hellraiser'. I could sense that there was something more to Bart than what he showed at school. But what made Bart Simpson tick? That's what I, Allison Taylor, was determined to find out.

Before I get into my experience with the boy, I want you to know why I'm sharing my new story with you. My friend and Bart's brother, Lisa, had become head of the school news paper, of which I was a member…

… I had just come to the newspaper on the first day Lisa became the head…

--

"Hey Alex," Lisa said. "Do you mind if I ask you to do one special assignment for me?"

I glanced around at the almost empty room. The only students who could be bothered to join the club were the social outcasts simply looking for a place to belong. There was Martin Prince, Database (I have no idea what his real name is), Sherri and Terri, and Wendell. Even so, with Lisa's help, things got done.

"Sure," I answered, just trying to get away from the boredom. "What is it?"

"Well Alison, you know that we have a new section '… Students…', where we interview random students from the halls," Lisa explained. I sat patiently, just waiting for her to get to the point. "… Well, I picked a random students' name from the hat and … he happened to be … uh … my brother, Bart."

Oh no! From what I'd seen of Lisa's brother, I wasn't willing to get too close to him anytime soon. After all, he was the brainpower and manipulation that convinced and helped Lisa to sabotage my project.

"Yes…?" I responded, hoping she wouldn't give me what I thought she might give me. "… What do you want me to do?"

Lisa sighed. "I want you to interview Bart," she admitted. "Normally I would do it myself, but c'mon, he would help me. He wouldn't help anyone here but you because you two haven't gotten acquainted yet."

"Yes we have!" I protested. "He helped you sabotage my project!"

"I know," Lisa said. "But that was for me, not for you. C'mon Alison, you're our only hope."

I sighed in defeat and told Lisa I would do the job…

--

… And as our local suicidal bartender would say, "And that's the origin of that!" So now I was forced to interview the school delinquent, Bart Simpson. At that point, I assumed Bart was the Bart he showed to us at school, a mean, shallow little jackass who cared little for the feelings of those less popular than him. Bart had a reputation here at Springfield Elementary. He was a class clown, who loved to make his peers laugh, at the expense of a good education

Bart was a master prankster. His skills ranged from petty thievery to vandalism under the alias "El Barto", a name which everyone but Principal Skinner could tie back to the son of the devil. The number of pranks he pulled was appalling, from stealing Teacher's Textbooks to ruining the school medieval festival by plaguing it with rats. Bart was always in detention and had gotten expelled numerous times. But somehow, he always came back. This was the boy I had to interview and bring back to Lisa by the next school paper. Man, life really sucks sometimes. But you know me. I never leave a job undone. Bart was just another job.

--

After school ended, I decided to sit next to Lisa. She knew more about Bart than anyone else at the school. Through my own sense of logic, I decided that it was only fair for me to question Lisa as it was Lisa herself who had bestowed this job to me. As I entered the bus, Bart and Nelson were at the back. Bart spotted me – and promptly shot a spitball right at the top of my forehead.

"Ha – HA!!" Nelson called, his voice carrying all over the bus. Before I could even relieve my forehead of its disgusting companion, what seemed to be the entire bus was laughing and snickering in my direction. Desperate, I cast a glance to Otto Mann, who wasn't even paying attention! Annoyed, I sat down next to Lisa, the person to blame for my troubles.

"You owe me big," was the first thing I said to her.

Lisa seemed sorry for the torment she had already put me through. "Well I could make it up to you by inviting you to my house," she suggested. I immediately knew what she meant. While we were supposedly doing our homework, I could somehow get to Bart's room and find some clues about his personal life. Of course, there was a flaw with that. Although I would search the room, legally, I couldn't use any information without Bart's consent. But that was okay. I had another motive.

So I called my parents on my cell phone and told them where I'd be headed today. My dad wasn't too thrilled with the idea, still believing Lisa unworthy of my friendship. But he was nice enough to grant me the needed permission. Eventually, the bus stopped and I got off with Lisa and Bart.

Upon hearing about the change of plans, Bart was the first to say something … bad it was negative. "Oh, I see," Bart said, in a patronizing tone. "Is the nerd patrol gonna have a power study session?" He jeered.

I was about to say something back when the Simpsons' mother, Marge, appeared at the door with a plate of cookies. She was ecstatic at my being there and scolded Bart for making fun of us. Bart didn't seem to mind and strolled right in, giving us a mocking stare.

--

This was my first stop on the road to finding out about Bart Simpson. While he was in the living room, drowned in the works of The Itchy & Scratchy Show, a show I find highly revolting, I snuck upstairs with a note that I was going to the bathroom.

Upon reaching the upstairs, I heard Homer Simpson, the father, in the shower, singing a song horribly off-key. I froze for a moment when the shower went off, and I soon wished I hadn't. Dripping wet and stark naked, Homer Simpson emerged from the bathroom, making no attempt to cover himself and any indecency on his part. NOW I needed a bathroom.

"Hey you're Lisa's friend," Homer addressed me. "How ya doin'?"

"F, Fine… Mr. Simpson…" The sight of him was horrible. And the most ludicrous part of it was, he didn't even seem to realize his mistake. Here he was, revealing a man's secret things to a girl child. "I'm just fine…" Homer scratched himself in his most private area and went downstairs. I was appalled.

--

Once I had liberated myself of Homer's indecency and the contents of my lunch, I resumed my quest. There were only four rooms upstairs, one for Lisa, for Marge and Homer, for Maggie, and one for Bart. It didn't take long for me to find it. Upon first glance, my subject's room was a shrine to the idol of Bart, myself, and countless other children in the world: Krusty the Clown. Various Krusty merchandise littered the room. From Krusty posters to Krusty dolls to Krusty alarm clocks and Krusty calculators. Anywhere in the room you went, you couldn't avoid the mindless stare and smile of the Clown children loved so much.

I noted that Bart's other objects, the ones without the word 'Krusty' on them, were a slingshot, a pocket knife, and a skateboard. So this was all I could find on Bart? The three items he displayed to others and the many merchandises of the Clown that might as well have called himself 'God'. I sighed, there was no basis for my story now.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I froze, recognizing the accusing voice that beckoned me to answer. I spun, and came face-to-face with the Spawn of Satan himself, Bart Simpson. After a moment's silence, he demanded, "Well?"

I chuckled nervously, but Bart did not look happy. "I was just … uh …"

"You know what?" Bart broke in. "I'm telling my mom. That way she'll ban you from this house." He turned to leave.

"No wait!" I called out, not wanting this household to be the first I was banished from. "I have a reason!"

Bart stopped and closed the door, waiting by it with crossed arms. "I'm waiting…"

"I, I was simply doing a story on you for the paper," I explained. "And I just needed some … uh… clues about you…"

Bart seemed taken aback. "We have a school paper?" he asked. Well no one ever said the paper was popular.

"Yeah, and I was assigned to interview you…"

"Well duh," Bart said, a cocky grin forming on his face. "I would think so."

"And why is that?"

Bart shot me a 'boy-are-you stupid' face. "Because you need more readers right?" he said. "And no one pulls in readers like…" he jerked a thumb in his chest. "… The Bartman himself…"

That annoyed me. To think that he would be so arrogant as if to suggest that the only way the paper would be great was if he was in it. "Believe it or not," I told him. "The world wouldn't stop spinning if you were to die here, right now."

"Oh yeah?" Bart asked, in a challenging manner.

"Yeah!" I retorted.

"We'll see about that," Bart said, turning away. I knew where he would be going now, to tell his mother about my trespassing. But in revealing his arrogance, he just revealed a piece of himself.

"Go ahead," I challenged. "And I'll tell everyone at school you're a tattle-tale."

As expected, Bart stopped in his tracks. I knew it. He was so arrogant, he would never tell on anyone. There was one thing for the paper: Bart Simpson was arrogant.

"Go ahead, ask your stupid questions."

"Alright." I felt superior now. I had bested Bart in a game of wits. Truthfully, it wasn't the hardest of accomplishments. "When were you born?"

"April 1st," Bart answered. Ah, there was another piece of the puzzle solved. Did Bart pull pranks just because April Fools' Day was his birthday? I wanted to find out.

"Bart, let's face it. You were never known as the model students and you have a reputation for pulling pranks. Does that have something to do with your birthday?"

Bart suddenly turned defensive. "No…" he muttered. Well apparently, he revealed another piece of himself. Bart had neglected to remember that was his excuse that one time when Principal Skinner demanded to know why he did what he did. There was a reason Bart was Bart and it had nothing to do with April 1st.

"So why do you perform so many pranks at school?" I asked. I was hoping to solve this the easy way.

"Because I feel like it," Bart returned. So much for the easy way.

'Because I feel like it' would not do for a sufficient answer. I had to find out the reason for his pranks. And I suspected I had a lead…

"Bart, are you proud of your sister's accomplishments?" was my next question. I hoped that I was on to something here.

"Yeah, I guess…" But Bart was hesitant, still defensive. "Why wouldn't I be? She is the future of this family…"

Bingo! Bart had revealed a third piece of himself. He was obviously jealous of Lisa Simpson and her accomplishments. This was a brand new path that would put '… Students…' at the front of the paper. I had to continue with this lead.

"Bart, are you jealous of Lisa?" This was the perfect timing. Bart was reeling from his slip-up earlier and was now gonna have to reveal more. Bart couldn't lie on this question with a straight face and now he was gonna say more.

"No!" he shot back, defensive. But he was obviously lying, anyone could see that. I gave him a look and his admitted, "… Yeah, a little…"

I had hit a gold mine! Bart Simpson was jealous of his sister! And I could see why. Lisa was a straight 'A' student, loved by the faculty and staff and Bart was … well… Bart.

It was time to tie this in to my next question. "Are you parents proud?"

"Are they!?" Bart exclaimed. To him, the question seemed incredible. "That's all they talk about! Lisa this and Lisa that. Meanwhile, the only recognition I get is 'Bart will never do that again Mr. Skinner…'"

So this is what I got. Bart Simpson had an inferiority complex with his sister. I was skilled at English and reading between the lines. From what Bart had told me, he secretly said "I'm Bart Simpson, but no one cares, because there's Lisa. As long as they have Lisa, my parents don't care about me."

I could tie this in to something else. "Is that why you pull pranks Bart?" I asked. "Because you can get recognized?"

For a moment, Bart didn't answer. And then, he said, "Yeah. I mean, I like attention too, even if it is bad."

Suddenly, I didn't feel like asking any more questions. Something Bart said had touched me. He felt neglected in the face of Lisa's greatness. Overshadowed, if you will. In any case, it wasn't the face of arrogance, 'The Bartman' showed at school. Bart had weaknesses. His major one was he didn't like to be ignored. That was why Bart did what Bart did. That was why he was so arrogant on the outside.

Bart broke into my thoughts with a loud sigh and fell back on his bed, his face suddenly the picture of regret. "Something wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing," he mumbled. "I suppose this'll be in the newspaper?"

This threw me off totally and suddenly I faced a moral implication. My dad had always told me that morals bow in the face of knowledge, but now, facing a moral dilemma, I was totally stumped. One part of me, the caring, compassionate part, told me not to. If I released such a story, I would kick Bart out of the popular kids. Bart would be kicked down from the top of the Elementary School food chain to where Lisa and I were, and our position wasn't that great. On the other hand, I could get more recognition by exposing Bart for the caring, sensitive soul he truly was, behind his arrogant, braggart exterior.

I had a revelation about my subject at that very moment. Bart Simpson was the eldest of the Simpson children by two years, very charming and very charismatic. When Lisa came along, she showed talents and intelligence that greatly surpassed her brother's. Lisa became more popular with her family than was Bart. Bart was outcast in his own family, the place were intelligence and good grades beats charisma and charm in an instant. Lisa was the shining jewel of the family, whereas Bart was the black sheep.

But in school, it was different. Most of the children there value that charm and charisma over intelligence and grades. In fact, they often go a step further to harass those with good grades and put them down. It was in this arena that Bart triumphed over Lisa. But it wouldn't last long. Bart knows, as well as other kids, that by the time the school year ends and a new one begins, Bart will have to work again for his social standing. With Lisa, all of her grades and intelligence will be forever admired by the family.

This was sibling rivalry at its finest: Bart vs. Lisa for popularity and recognition. I began to see their lives through their eyes. Bart and Lisa fought regularly over many things: the television remote, territory, etc. But the truth was that they fought for one thing: popularity. And Bart was fighting a losing battle. I realized it, he realized it, Lisa realized it, I'm pretty sure even their father, Homer, realized it. And this realization made me sad.

When I emerged from my thoughts, I saw Bart lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He turned towards me with contempt in his face. "Well," he said. "Aren't you gonna work on your story?"

I couldn't. To reveal this side of Bart, this nature, would be to destroy the boy. This recognition and popularity by his peers was all Bart could hope for. When he grew up, Bart suspected, Lisa would represent the Simpson family and he would be forgotten. I had to help him before this frightening future might become a reality.

"Bart," I said, turning his face to meet mine. "I'll make you a deal. I won't print the story if you decide to take your schoolwork a little more seriously."

Bart smiled at me, understanding what I'd meant. He nodded once and I stood up, knowing this would be alright. "I'll see you later," I said as I left. "Remember our deal." And with that, I closed the door and left.