"You've entered a dating contest?" shouted Marge angrily.
The Simpsons family were sat around the kitchen table once again, eating a meal consisting of chicken nuggets, peas and chips.
"Relax, Marge. I applied for a position for you too,"
This didn't seem to help much. Marge spat out her peas in shock and turned to face Homer.
"I thought we were a serious couple?"
"We are, honey. But this is the perfect opportunity to get the money we need,"
"No, it's another of your stupid, hair-brained schemes which always seem to get us into trouble. And if you think I'm still going to pick you to go on a date with, you can forget it!"
Marge ran upstairs angrily after doing her usual grunting of displeasure. Homer chased after her and watched as Marge slammed the door behind her. Homer opened the door and made to walk in but Marge slammed it again before he was able to enter.
"We can still have sex tonight, right?" Homer called through the door.
"No, you can forget it," Marge called back.
"Looks like it's just you and me in bed tonight," Homer said miserably to the pile of Duff bear cans next to him.
Marge didn't talk to Homer at all on their journey to Kent. Instead, she crossed her arms as if to prove a point and spent the entire car journey staring out of the window. Even when they arrived outside the hotel Homer had booked, Marge continued to stare at anywhere but Homer.
The hotel wasn't a particularly nice sight. It was made of wood falling apart with white paint peeling away from the wood underneath. The wooden door was leaning off it's hinges. The hotel looked almost like it had been broken into. The interior was similarly unpleasant. The floorboards creaked as they entered and walked up to a wooden table with a leg broken off, behind which was a shabby brown haired man who looked as though he hadn't shaved in ages.
"Hello," he said. "You stayings with us?"
Homer laughed.
"And I thought I was dumb,"
"Hey, it ain't ouwer faults. This ez hoetel oz homlez peoples," said the man, placing a key on the table.
"Perhaps you could live here?" said Bart, pulling his shorts down and showing off his butt.
"You means you can gives us a gud hom?"
Bart rolled his eyes.
"No, I mean you can eat my shorts,"
"We can?" he said in hope.
"You actually want to eat my shorts?"
"We homlez peoples wud happilee eet anythings,"
Bart shrugged.
"Okay, go ahead. I have plenty of shorts anyway,"
Bart chucked his shorts to the homeless man and he beamed as if Christmas had come early, holding them above his head as if he was holding some great piece of treasure.
"Hey, peoples! We haz sum foods!" he called and a large group of homeless people came hurrying towards them.
They began to tuck into the shorts as Homer grabbed a key on-top of the table. They walked across to one of the rooms and unlocked it.
Inside, they found a single bed covered in dust and wood shavings.
"How are we all supposed to sleep in one bed?" asked Marge.
"I thought you weren't speaking to me anymore?" said Homer.
"I wasn't speaking to you. I was speaking to Bart,"
"Squeeze in together, I guess," said Bart, shrugging.
The Simpsons all climbed into the bed and began to sleep under one single dusty duvet, sharing the same pillow and finding themselves unable to move, with Maggie crawling over their bodies like a spider scuttling inside a cave. The bed collapsed under their combined weight as the Simpsons lay still, not noticing more and more people entering their room and sleeping uncomfortably on top of them.