We see an overhead view of the Simpsons' home on a sunny week day morning. The view switches to the kitchen where the kids are wolfing down foodas Marge prepares school lunches.
Abe sits down with a half-gallon of milk, "You know, back in my day we used to chew our food."
"Wel, this is our day, gramps, and we have to make the bus," Bart says while still eating food.
"Pah – bush smush! Why, back in my day we had to walk to school fifteen miles through the snow. Of course back then there weren't that many roads, but rather dirt paths well worn. The year ws nineteen dickety two…"
"Dickety," Bart says to Lisa, who then laughs.
"Me and my friends would trudge through three feet of snow, of course back then we didn't call it 'snow' but rather cloud dandruff. Back then when you had dandruff there weren't any of these fancy shampoos to alleviate it, so you dealt with it. Having dandruff was considered a sign of age and wisdom. Often we'd count our flakes and see who had the mo-"
"Marge! Have you seen my car keys?" Homer bellows out as he enters the kitchen.
"Great story, grandpa," Bart says sarcastically, "Could have used a vampire though."
"Have you checked your pants' pockets, Homie?"
Homer digs around in his pants and pulls out the keys, "Oh, yeah."
"Running late again, huh Homer? Back in my day we used to show up half an hour early for work. It was called wooorrrk ethiiic. And for five consecutive years of being early so I could clock in precisely at eight, my boss gave me a three-cent raise."
"Why is he still here?" Homer asks Marge.
"Hey! I may be partially blind, balding, old, and forgetful, and … what was I talking about?"
Lisa says to him, "I think you were going to tell him you're not deaf, grandpa."
"Exactly! I'm not deaf, you big oaf! That place isn't safe; people keep dying there."
"Earth to dad: that's where old people are supposed to die. Peacefully and quietly in the comfort of their own bed away from loved ones who have to normally deal with it."
"No, mysterious deaths…" says Abe.
"So what? Dead is dead at that general age. Clippity clip!" Homer says when he clips his clip-on tie to his work shirt.
"Clearly all those old dudes were one day away from retirement," says Bart.
"Agh! Granpa, I don't want you talking about mass murder in front of the children," Marge orders, briefly stopping from bagging their lunches.
"How'd they die, grandpa?" Lisa asks.
"A mysterious rash of barbeque fork neck wounds! Though some say salad forks."
"Here, Homer," Marge hands him a sacked lunch.
"Yoink! Thank you. I'm outta here," he kisses her and leaves the kitchen. He then pops his head back in, "And dad, try not to permanently terrify my damn wiener kids," and he then leaves.
"Makes sense to me, grandpa; I've always advocated for the elimination of salad," Bart says. "If only people had listened to me, all those old folks would still be alive and yelling at me to get off their lawn."
Marge pushes the bread edges cut off the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches she made, onto the kitchen floor, where Snowball II and Santa's Little Helper fight over them. She picks up the lunch boxes and walks over to Bart and Lisa who have finished breakfast.
"Here are your lunches, kids."
"Thanks mom."
"Thank mom," Lisa also says.
They dash out to the living room for their backpacks. Marge helps Bart put his backpack on.
"Bart, be good at school today and try not to set anything on fire."
"I promise to make a vigilant effort."
The sounds of the school bus stopping and the horn honking is head.
Marge stops Lisa before she darts out, "Now, Lisa, normally I only have to tell Bart that, but please try not to set anything on fire again."
"I know, mom…"
"Uuummmph!" she hugs Lisa, "Have fun at school today."
"I will!" Lisa runs out to the bus.
.
CUT TO: The nuclear power plant. Crows buzz around it, as well as bats. We see Burns' empty office. The view sinks downward, going by floors of halls, a crawl space with wooden boxes marked WELLS FARGO and gold coins spilled out, a basement level with dripping glowing green radioactive material, and finally several feet under a two-story secret lair built with old gray cinder blocks and adorned with candles everywhere.
Smithers walks around slowly lighting more candles as he chants.
"The sleeper will wake. The sleeper will wake…"
He stops at a pool of blood.
"The sleeper will wake," he says again. His wrist watch beeps he looks at it and sees a time of 7:40 am. "And the world will bleed."
The pool begins steadily bubbling. Mr. Burns rises slowly out of it in his pajamas; none of the blood soaks him or the pajamas.
"Rise and shine, sir."
"Smithers, this blood isn't bubbling nearly as much as it should."
"I'll have the nozzles checked, sir."
"I'm hungry. Bring me something … young."
"All ready waiting for you in your office, sir."
"Excellent…" Burns says as he enters a secret elevator to go up.
"Sir, could I take the elevator up this time? I hit my knee this morning and-"
"No. I like to spread my legs," he presses a button and the doors shut quickly.
.
The halls of Springfield Elementary bustle with chatter and activity. Skinner makes his way through, keeping an eye on things.
"No running through the halls! Nelson, don't chew crud in the school."
"Bite me, Skinner."
"Young man, if this was the jungles of Nam and not the halls of an elementary school, you'd be regretting those words right now."
He then looks around and sees Mrs. Krabbapel.
"Good morning, Edna. Ready for another semester of failing grades, poor excuses, and mysterious student deaths?"
"Eh, as long as I get my pension, I can take all those things in spades," she walks off.
Skinner looks down apathetically, "God, every day here is the same," he then sees Lisa walk by, "Oh, Lisa Simpson. Can I see you in my office?"
"Yes, Principal Skinner," Lisa says with a voice indicating this was already expected.
.
Skinner sits down behind his desk. Lisa waits patiently in a chair opposite him.
"Now, Bart – ah-heh – sorry about that, force of habit. Lisa, this is your permanent record from last semester," he holds some sheets of paper.
"Eeooowww…" she winces slightly at the site of having such a record.
"I just wanted to say here at Springfield Elementary, we believe in our students," he rips the papers in half and continues ripping them as he speaks, "And so a fresh semester should be a fresh start. I have faith you'll continue to be a model student who gets high grades and doesn't burn the gym down again."
"That gym was full of vampi…" she trails off and quickly corrects herself, "Asbestos."
"Well, the insurance money was nice, but next time leave building-related health concerns to us. Anyway, clean slate, Lisa."
"Thank you, Principal Skinner."
"Ah huh. Now hurry on to your locker – not too much longer before the bell rings."
"Yes, sir!" she dashes off.
He gets up and follows her out, staying at the doorway to continue keeping an eye on the students. Willie walks by. "Ah, Willie, top of the morning to ya."
"I'm Scottish, not Irish, ya two-bit bath-takin', pants wearin' willie hugger."
"Ah huh. So Willie, any dead students or faculty this morning?"
"Not yet, but the day is young. What was that wee lass so happy about?" asks Willie.
"Oh, Lisa Simpson? Ha – I told her that her permanent record from last semester was null and void."
"Don't'cha still keep digital and photo copies of 'em?" Willie asks.
"Of course. Silly students. The permanent record never … goes … away. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ," he breaths in, "Mercy."
.
Lisa sits in class and begins setting her supplies out. Sherri and Terri enter. They sit in a row beside her.
"Hey, Lisa," says Terri.
"Sherri, Terri," Lisa says in an annoyed voice.
"Heard we got a new gym," says Sherri.
"Yeah. Normally kids play in the gym and not burn it down," says Terri.
"You don't say…" Lisa says as she lays out two pencils and a pencil sharpener.
"Ah huh. Say Lisa, nice dress," says Sherri.
"Looks amazingly like the one you wore last year. I didn't know we had any antique 1990's apparel stores," says Terri.
"How delightfully retro," says Sherri.
"Uuummm…" Lisa mumbles and gets up to sharpen her pencils instead of sitting there and taking more verbal abuse, "Stupid Sherri, stupid Terri; wish you were vampires so I could stake you…"
"Hi, Lisa, I'm learnding," says Ralph as she passes him by.
The door opens and misses Hoover walks in.
"Hello, children, welcome back to school, hope you had a good vacation, yadda yadda yadda, please come to the front to collect your new book," Hoover says nonchalantly in a near monotone voice.
.
Later that day. The bell rings indicating recess. Kids pour out of classrooms to dump their books in their lockers. Bart stops by Lisa and dumps his books in a trashcan.
"Hey, Lis'."
"Bart, can't you put your books in your locker like everybody else?"
"I could, but this is faster. I'll get 'em after recess; it's not like anyone's gonna steal school books. So, who'd you get for History this year?"
"Misses Hoover. How about you?"
"Mrs. Krabbappel. Funny how we seem to get them every year. Come on, I've dared Milhouse to chuck rocks at the bats to see if they'll attack him."
"I can't, Bart; I'm going to the library to see what new books they've gotten in this year," she says as she puts books in her backpack for the next classes. "Wanna come?"
"The library? No thanks, me think very good," he helps her put her backpack on.
"Your loss. Bye!" she springs away fast.
Something falls out of a pouch on her backpack that she forgot to zip up in her excitement.
"Hey, Lia, you forgot your…" he picks it up and looks at what is a thick wooden stake with a honed point, "stake?" he then shoves it in his backpack in the trashcan, "Cool. I thought I was the only one bringing weapons to school."
.
Lisa pushes one of the swinging library doors open and walks over to the main desk.
"Mrs. Mercer," Lisa calls out. She waits patiently.
"Hello, Lisa," Martin says to her.
"Mrs. Mercer," she says again, looking around; Martin is the only other patron. "Mrs. Mercer?" she calls out louder.
Just as she's turning to head to a desk to set her backpack down, she hears a male voice.
"Why hello," says a man with black hair; on his head a brown cowboy hat and on his back a guitar.
"Hi, where is Mrs. Mercer?"
"Oh, Mrs. Mercer retired. Permanently."
"Who are you?" Lisa asks.
"I'm Mr. Bergstrom," he replies; rattling spurs can be heard when he steps forward and extends a hand down to her.
"Nice to meet you," she shakes his hand.
Martin leaves the library.
"You must be Lisa Simpson."
"How did you know my name?"
"I make it a point to know the names of all the patrons. What can I help you with?"
"I was looking for a book…"
"Ah, yes, I believe I know just the book you're looking for…"
He disappears behind the main desk and we hear some ruffling. He then stands back up and steps over to the kid-level desk counter and slams a heavy and thick old brown book down; there is a dramatic music stab as she reads it.
In faded yellow letters it reads KWYJIBO.
"Huh?" she says.
"Oh, sorry, wrong book. Hold on…" he disappears again and then comes up with another heavy and thick old brown book which he also slams down as we hear the dramatic music stab again.
Lisa reads the second book title, also in faded yellow letters that reads VAMPYR, "No … no, that's not what I was looking for…"
"Are you sure?" Bergstrom asks.
"Yes."
"My mistake," he puts the book away.
Lisa runs out of the library.
"Huh. Maybe I should have played her a song first."
