Chapter 1
In the heart of Springfield Mountains, there stood a little cottage made of brick. It sat there puffing out smoke, blowing it into the mid-day sky. Inside there was an old man sitting in his rocking chair, slowly going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. His bald yellow head, shone as the sunlight peered through the window and reflected of its waxy scalp. He had one hand placed on the armrest, and one hand held a glass containing a stiff whisky. His dogs sat at his feet, with their tongues hanging out, they were asleep.
Whilst the man sat there all peacefully, the door to the cottage swung open and there stood a fat policeman, Chief Wiggum, of the Springfield police. He had two men by his side. "Mr. Burn's!" he said, "Your under arrest for bribing the"- Mr. Burns held in his hand a briefcase that was open, and full of money. "Well," laughed Wiggum, "I mean, there's only Mr. Hutz's bank balance as evidence. And after all, that can't prove a thing can it?" As the three cops walked out, Burns smiled. "Excellent."
"Bart," cried Marge, "You too Lisa! Just because it's a Saturday, doesn't mean you can't get up before nine." The two of them slowly slumped down the stairs and plodded into the kitchen where they gave out a mighty cry for help. "Mom, Dad's dead!"
In the heart of Springfield Mountains, there stood a little cottage made of brick. It sat there puffing out smoke, blowing it into the mid-day sky. Inside there was an old man sitting in his rocking chair, slowly going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. His bald yellow head, shone as the sunlight peered through the window and reflected of its waxy scalp. He had one hand placed on the armrest, and one hand held a glass containing a stiff whisky. His dogs sat at his feet, with their tongues hanging out, they were asleep.
Whilst the man sat there all peacefully, the door to the cottage swung open and there stood a fat policeman, Chief Wiggum, of the Springfield police. He had two men by his side. "Mr. Burn's!" he said, "Your under arrest for bribing the"- Mr. Burns held in his hand a briefcase that was open, and full of money. "Well," laughed Wiggum, "I mean, there's only Mr. Hutz's bank balance as evidence. And after all, that can't prove a thing can it?" As the three cops walked out, Burns smiled. "Excellent."
"Bart," cried Marge, "You too Lisa! Just because it's a Saturday, doesn't mean you can't get up before nine." The two of them slowly slumped down the stairs and plodded into the kitchen where they gave out a mighty cry for help. "Mom, Dad's dead!"