Homer, Bart, and Maggie wolfed down their food as usual. Lisa knew it was important to her mother to have these family dinners, but tonight she wasn't in the mood.

"Lisa, how were your classes?"

"Fine."

Marge swallowed her disappointment. Lisa had given that same answer yesterday, and the day before that. Lisa caught her mother's expression and continued grudgingly.

"Our new biology professor is a jerk. She spends hours just lecturing us."

"What happened to the old biology professor?" Marge asked attentively.

"It was Sideshow Bob, but... I got him fired on his first day."

Bart cackled.

"Then his wife left him."

Bart's laughter redoubled.

"It's not funny!" Lisa yelled.

"Just goes to show ya, crime doesn't pay," said Bart, chewing. "Maybe I'll bring the ole slingshot with me to the unemployment office in case he's there."

Marge began clearing the table, which made Lisa frown. Her children were adults, but she still served them food and cleaned up after them.

"Bart, sweetie, I don't think it's a very good idea for you to go on unemployment. You're only twenty years old, and it runs out quicker than you think."

"Your mother's right, boy. Greedy Uncle Sam won't pay you to do nothing for long."

"They've been paying you to do nothing for a pretty long time."

"Why you–"

As Bart and Homer fought, Lisa disappeared, unnoticed. She was sick of how little her family had changed and grown over the years. They were stuck in the same habits and the same routines. And no matter how much she struggled, she was stuck there with them.

Lisa put on a sweater and snagged her saxophone from her room.

"Bye, I'm going to work," she called at the front door, as a private joke to herself. The family didn't hear her. It was like she lived in another dimension.

Lisa worked at a tiny, dank music lounge downtown. After months of hunting, she finally found an owner who would let her play a set with the band in exchange for bussing tables. Technically, she wasn't being paid to play, and it made her clothes stink like cigarettes and cheap booze, but it was better than nothing.

"What's good, Lisa?"

"Hi, Lou. Not much, I'm afraid."

Lou played a deflated flourish on the piano and she couldn't help but smile.

"Me neither, beautiful. Well, tell it to the horn."

He played her something tender and bluesy. Lisa closed her eyes and let herself feel the atmosphere. Her sax rumbled slowly, exciting the piano. Warmth soaked through her, and she remembered watching Sideshow Bob touch his wife. She knew it was perverse, but she hadn't stopped fantasizing about what she'd seen and heard: his drawn out, teasing strokes, his dutiful attention to her throat, reducing her to gasps and whimpers. It was ammo enough to make her cum over and over each night and again each morning. Never before had she been so consumed by sex.

When the song ended, there was no applause (there never was), but a few of the patrons were leering at her in newfound appreciation. Someone coughed uncomfortably. She slunk back into the shadows, embarrassed by her transparency.

"That sure was... something else!" Lou encouraged.

"I–"

Her boss interrupted.

"Lisa! Get to work!"

Lisa packed up her sax and put on her apron. Usually when she bussed tables, people paid her no mind, but tonight she felt the distinct presence of eyes following her.

"Hey, girlie. Come here often?"

Lisa frowned. "I work here."

"I like how you play the oboe, there."

"Saxophone."

"Fascinating stuff. You interested in giving a squeeze job to a much older man?"

"That's enough! Show a little respect!"

Lisa's heart leapt at the familiar voice.

"I was going to buy her something!" the wise guy whined. Sideshow Bob's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Why bother being the nice guy...?" he muttered, skulking away.

"Hi, Bob," Lisa greeted. Bob's expression remained steely.

"Lisa. What are you doing in a place like this?"

She smirked. "That's worse than the line the last guy used."

Bob sputtered, making her giggle. Someone spilled a drink on the table next to them and she cleaned it up, reality sobering her.

"What does it look like? I'm putting myself through college."

Bob's brow furrowed, but he didn't argue.

"What are you doing in a place like this?"

" 'What does it look like?' " he echoed darkly, finishing his drink. Lisa watched him swallow. Suddenly, she felt nervous.

"Bob, I know that you and I have a colorful past,"

He snorted.

"but if you need a friend–"

"If ever I require the company of a nosy college freshman slash busgirl, I'll come straight to you," he interrupted, sounding bored. Lisa grabbed his copy of Anna Karenina, which was conveniently just behind the bar, and returned it.

"Great. Here's your book back."

"Excuse me, miss! I could use the company of a er, uh, fresh college bust girl!"

Lisa ignored the bursts of shouting and laughter trailing her from a drunken Freddy Quimby's table and did her best to avoid conversation for the rest of the night.