Chapter 2
Bart had made his way to the kitchen. He saw Marge making breakfast for the family. Sitting at the table were his sisters, Lisa and Maggie. Maggie was looking straight at the family dog, Santa's Little Helper, who was eating his dog food.
Bart sat down at the table, smirking as he remembered the soap incident from earlier. My day is now complete. He thought. What am I thinking? I got more to do!
Lisa shook her head. "Bart, I don't think that you should've done that to Dad. He is in enough stress as it is. The power plant is watching close on everyone who works there and…"
"It's all about you, isn't it?" Bart rolled his eyes. "Always telling me what is right and what is wrong. It's never about me."
Marge turned to the table and gave Bart and Lisa their plates of scrambled eggs. "Now, kids," she started. "Your father works hard for this family. We should try to learn from his example?"
"What examples?" Bart asked. "Drinking, sleeping, and cursing at Fox News? I tell you, he does nothing better than that."
"Now, Bart," Marge started. "You only look at the bad things. Also, you and I both know how much we all hate Fox News." She went back to get another plate.
Lisa looked at Bart. "It's bad enough that everyone in Springfield is annoyed at what you have 'accomplished', but cut Dad some slack."
Marge put another plate of eggs beside Lisa. "Hmmm, where's your father?"
As the question was asked, the back door was forced opened, causing the family to jump. In the kitchen came an angry Homer, covered in trash, blood and raccoon bites. Half of his shirt was missing and his blue jeans were ripped. His two hairs were cut in half and there was the baseball bat was shoved up his behind.
Bart quickly ate his breakfast and got up from the table. "See you later, Mom!" And with that, Bart bolted to the front door.
"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" Homer grimaced as he pulled the bat out of him and ran after Bart.
Bart got on his skateboard and bolted out the door with Homer running after him.
Bart skated quickly away from him. Homer, too tired to run anymore, collapsed on the Flanders' yard.
Ned Flanders got out of his house and saw a tired Homer. "Hidey-ho, Neighborino! How is your day so far, Simpson?"
Homer looked at Flanders. "Shove off, Flanders."
Flanders shook his head. "Not to be a pestering prier but maybe…"
Homer slowly got up from the ground. "Flanders, I swear to God, give me any advice…"
Flanders gasped. "You can't swear to God! In the good ole' Bible, in the Gospel of…"
Homer didn't let Flanders finish. Instead, Homer, who was further annoyed at the Bible, screamed. Homer picked up the bat and ran toward Flanders with it. Flanders, scared, ran inside his house.
"Oh, no!" Homer yelled, while standing outside his neighbors' front door. "You're not getting away from me that easily! YAAAHHH!" And with that, began smashing the door.
Inside, Ned was calling the police when his son, Rod, went to him. "Daddy, why is Mr. Simpson trying to break our door? Is the Devil taking over him?"
Ned looked at his son. "Maybe, but just to be sure, get the Bible and the Holy Water for this occasion."
Rod walked away. "Yay!"