AUTHORESS'S NOTE: Once again, thank you all for reading and reviewing! Every word is treasured. :) Enjoy chapter two!
Bathing Mr. Burns in the morning was always one of the highlights of my day. I always thought that the sexiness and novelty of the process would decline over the years, but they never did. Every time I saw my boss naked, each time I felt my skin against his, it was the same prurient rush all over again. It kept my otherwise rather dull mornings painted with a sheet of vivacity.
Mr. Burns' bathing times also served the purpose of our vital morning palavers spent catching up on the twelve hours we endured apart each night. I usually opted to keep my nighttime activities to myself, but I always felt butterflies in my stomach when Mr. Burns would inquire about them. When he did, I knew that he was interested in my life, and that was the greatest feeling in the world.
I also cherished every word that dashed out of Mr. Burns' mouth about his own last twelve hours. Of course, most of them were spent in sleep, but he always had something new on his mind to share with me. Some new idea, conflict, scheme, or just an innovative thought he was eager to tell me. And I was always just as eager to listen.
On this particular morning, my friend was nattering about his latest plan to make our workers at the power plant more competent. "You see, Smithers, it is simply the time of day that lunch is served that makes those noodles as bungling as they are," he said assertively.
"How do you figure, sir?" I asked curiously as I polished Mr. Burns' back with a special, spherical sponge.
"For some reason unknown to me, our employees seem to be obsessed with the world of food," began Mr. Burns. "So, we must make them wait until the day is nearly finished to serve them their free meal, and only give it to them if their work for the day has been proficiently completed."
I paused, considering the peculiar yet fresh notion. "It sounds like a good idea, sir. Except that, well…going without food for the entire day may cause the workers' minds to shut down before they can produce competent work. The human mind works better when the stomach is fed."
"Pish posh!" exclaimed Mr. Burns. "The plan is perfect, you nebbish, and we're going to instate it today. Now help me out of my bath and bring me my towel."
Just as I had my hands happily placed on Mr. Burns' hips, helping him out of the tub, we both jumped, startled from the sudden ring of the doorbell. "Who could that be?" Mr. Burns asked, as I put a towel around him. We ambled out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where we stared down at the visitor. The boy with the glasses and the cookies and the uncanny resemblance to me. "Release the hounds," demanded Mr. Burns.
"But sir, he's just a little boy," I argued.
Mr. Burns looked at me inquisitively. "And…? Smithers, you've never had a problem releasing the hounds on children before. Now hop to it!"
I nodded unsurely and trudged to the wall where the button for the hounds was positioned. My finger lingered over it. I looked back at the boy as he waited unwearyingly with the boxes of cookies nearly collapsing over from their comparative weight. I looked back at the hound button. I couldn't press it. "Actually, Mr. Burns, I'm rather famished. I think I'll go buy a box," I stuttered.
"Hmmm…all right. If you want to waste your money, I can't stop you," Mr. Burns replied nonchalantly. "But be swift. I don't want to stand around here so exposed for much longer."
I nodded and summarily bounded the long staircase down to the door. Upon opening it, I saw a smile instantaneously become a bridge between the boys' rosy cheeks. "Why, hello, again!" he exclaimed excitedly. "You live here too?"
I smiled. "No, this is my friends' house. He…couldn't come to the door, but he does want to donate to the cause," I lied, not even quite sure myself what I was doing. "Um…instead, he wants to send a rather large check to your school."
The boy looked a bit diffident, but then smiled. "Well, that's awfully generous of him! Well, I go to Springfield Elementary, and the Poetry Club's supervisor is Ms. Hoover, so I'm not sure which he should make the check out to…"
"I'll see what Mr. Burns thinks, and the check will arrive soon," I told him, suddenly feeling panicked at the prospect of making this lie a truth.
"Thank you so much, sir. And thank Mr. Burns greatly for me. You both are stunningly kind people, two of the few I've met in this town so far," he said a bit sadly.
I looked down a bit desolately myself, before we bid each other our final goodbyes.
The next day, against by my better sense of judgment, I went down to Springfield Elementary and stood aimlessly outside the playground, watching the children playing and waiting for the final bell to ring. Luckily, there were no bystanders, because I knew I must have looked like a first-rate pedophile, but I had to know if I was somehow accurate in my instinct regarding that boy.
What I saw didn't tell me much. He was swinging jocundly next to some boy. Some other boy approached him and they partook in a secret handshake. All three began talking. Smiling. He looked genuinely happy and well-liked. The resemblance began to fade.
But then he did something that rekindled my suspicion. A pig-tailed blonde sauntered past with a group of her friends, and the look on his face was unmistakable. It was this certain look of love in his eyes. Restrained but crying to be freed. The way I so often looked at Mr. Burns.
"Is one of these children yours? Or should I call the cops?" asked a voice in a velvety, an all too familiar, Southern drawl.
I turned around promptly, almost knocking into a tree to the right of me. And then I saw her. For the first time in eight years. That beautiful woman with the ebony hair, the emerald eyes, and the fragmented heart. Clad in a clingy, garnet gown and still wearing the platinum heart locket I gave her on our first anniversary, she looked as gorgeous as ever.
I tried to catch my breath as our eyes met in mutual shock. "Maggie?"