Disclaimer: If I owned The Simpsons, I wouldn't have to write fan fiction

Note: It's very important that you make sure to see if there's is a ' or a " before sentencesor paragraphs. The ' means it's Maggie's narration. The " are still dialogue.

SOUNDS OF SILENCE

A Tribute to the Greatest of the Simpsons

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'Bang. Splat. Thud. There might have been a crack. Either way, it was the most beautiful undertone I ever heard. If only I could have played the song myself would it have been better.

'The best part about it wasn't the great music, though. It was the thoughts I could finally think. My hopes wouldn't be let down, so I could think them. I will never have to deal with them again.

'Oh, it still hasn't sunk in. The bastards are gone! All but one, anyway. The bastards who ignored me are gone. That one only spoke to me once that whole day. This whole day. Tonight. In the car. He was drunk. Wow, it happened fast!'

'That's right. He was drunk. "Maggie? How did you get in here?"'

'I came with you, you damn bastard.'

"Huh?... Oh, never mind, mute. Hey, yu' know, I been havin' dreams…"

'I was having dreams too. In my dreams, I rape our family. I play you, like puppets, into a furnace. I knew that wasn't normal, bastard.'

"…and… EW, EW, EW! - BUMP! – Heh, heh, heh! Djew see that? Cat din' know what's comin'… Oh, shit! Snowball! Damn!"

'Yeah, we were in the driveway, dumbass.'

"Oh, FUDGE! Mmm… Fudge… Grrlrrrl…"

'Inside, Mom washed dishes. She usually does at night. She'll do many things associated with mothers. That's why she's a bitch. She'd do anything at all for them, but I can't recall one time when she gave me attention. Why should she? I only seemed to exist to maintain my existence. If I opened my mouth in front of her I got a speech on why I amount to crap. Bitch.

'Bart, son of a bitch. He was probably jacking off in his room. He hated me. He treated me like crap. I hated him. They never listened me, even when they had the chance. Son of a Bitch used to ask me for favors and bullshit. He never did bullshit back. Every weekend the twenty-year-old dropout came home, to his parents' house, with a different slut. The sounds kept me up all night. He wouldn't listen but forced me to. Son of a Bitch.

'Going upstairs, I found Lisa, sitting at her desk, head down in her arms, crying about something or another. I smiled, didn't I? I think I did. She was the only one who might have listened. She was the only one I listened to. She's fucker. The traitor fucked with me and my emotions. She's a God-damned Fucker.'

"Oh, Maggie…"

'Sniff. Dry the tears.'

"Oh… MAGGIE! I am glad you're here."

'How sweet, I thought. She must think I've forgiven her. I have now, though, for making me think that I mattered.'

"I think you were right. All those thoughts we shared… they were right!"

'I thought you agreed, Fucker.'

"I… I hate our family too…"

'What happened, Fucker? Did they step on your toes?'

"I'm sorry, Maggie. You were what kept me up, and I never realized."

'Of course I'm keeping you up. You're my puppet, remember?

'As she walked out of the room, she said, "You always knew what to say. I'm sorry they didn't welcome your words."

'I did know what to say. That's what makes you a puppet, Fucker. You hate them for most of the reasons I do, but you're still a Fucker. You don't know what it's been like for me, you whining Fucker. You'll never learn some things. Like Bart, who never learned to hide his guns.

'I turned on Lisa's radio because I didn't know how to play her saxophone. The song didn't matter. I turned the volume up a bit to hear the undertone. Bang. Splat. Thud. There might have been a crack. Poor Son of a Bitch. The hilarious scream of the Bastard. Bang. Splat. Thud. There might have been a crack. The satisfying scream of the Bitch.

'Songs later was another great undertone: sirens. Lisa was taken away. I forgive you now, Fucker.

'Mom is in shock. So am I, more or less, because I didn't expect this to happen so soon. But I can still appreciate the music playing. I find her sobbing upon going downstairs, finally. I look scared out of my wits. The Bitch didn't even run up to look for me the entire time. She looked at me, and I think she realized this.

'I don't like you, but you're better than the Bastard. They've paid for the way I turned out, and now it's your turn. You won't just preach to me now, will you, Bitch? Who the FUCK else are you going to listen to, BITCH?'

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Sorry if it sucked. It was late when I wrote it. I think I might have missed the bull's-eye with this one, but I don't like to judge myself. Please review but no flames.