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"Lisa, what are you doing today?" Marge asked as she served a duo of bacon and eggs to her first daughter. Homer sat there in silence, reading over the newspaper as though it were a normal day routine. Funny how Lisa never saw him do such a thing daily…perhaps he started when the kids moved out; after all, who could read with such noise?

Stabbing her eggs with a fork, she grimaced inwardly. Why did every hint of stabbing something or poking something remind her of her brother's murder? Although she wasn't there when it happened, she could picture it all and hated the see the image at such times.

Ignoring that, she took a bite and spoke up. "I'll probably go to the library for a while. I need to research and write my own opinion paper about Dolly the sheep that was cloned, write the cons and pros of it. Plus I need facts and book titles to back it up."

"Ah, seems like just yesterday you were in school doing the same paper." Homer shook his head, looking as though he were reminiscing. This made Lisa smiled and bite into her bacon. With age came wisdom…but from the way he attacked his food, he still lacked manners.

"Alright well just be careful. Do you have your cell phone?" Marge started to clean the pots and pans she had used to cook breakfast. That was one thing Lisa truly did hate leaving to go to college; home cooked meals. Even if she had the money for such food, Lisa had no equipment to make such delicious foods! All she had was a microwave and a half a lifetime supply of ramen.

One day she would look up just how much the ramen company made. Yes it was cheap but since college students nation wide bought it, they must be filthy rich! Perhaps she could really stop by the library to look up such a thing. Truth be told, she was procrastinating from her paper (she would ask the professor for more time considering her grief) and decided to go to jail. Not go as in stay there, just to visit.

She couldn't tell her mom though for she'd flip out, with good reason too! "Yes mom." She answered after a pause, checking her small purse just to be curtain. For whatever reason, gut feeling or hunch, she suspected Bob Terwilliger might just be telling the truth. It was a long shot but it could happen.

Marge sat down with a steaming cup of coffee, the aroma of rich flavor filling the air. Lisa inhaled it deeply; she was never one able to drink a whole cup of coffee no matter what was in it. She had soda as her caffeine of herbal energy drinks. In fact, for once in her life, she wasn't the only one who drank herbal anything! There were loads of people at college that did it!

Stretching her arms a bit, Lisa stood up and washed her dish quickly, ridding any traces of food on it. Her mother was about to protest when she put it on the drying rack and grabbed her purse. "I'm going now…I should be back by five or six. If not, I'll call, okay?" She kissed her mother's cheep and hugged her dad who briefly put down the comics side of the newspaper.

That explained why he was reading it in the first place.


After a rather lengthy routine security check, Lisa finally got into the prison. They had to check her purse as though it held Hitler in it, ensuring no weapons of any sorts was in it. She insisted she only used eye liner, that was the sharpest thing she had and it was dull from being used already. One thing was sure, she thought with a comforting smile; the police in Springfield had gotten a little better.

Pushing her hair back, making sure it stayed down and curled at the back of her neck, she walked into a visiting room. Her lips were layered in lip gloss, never lip stick since she found it too…uncomfortable. Her eyes had eye shadow, a very light shade that could blend into her skin tone and eyeliner. She wore dark blue jeans and a sweater that was a little stretched from wearing it so much.

Tapping her fingertips against the metal table, she started to get a bit nervous, a bit twitchy. This place held criminals and she had just requested (and was waiting to see) the criminal to attempted to kill her brother several times. The police had improved, yes, but were they really that good to where she didn't have to worry about a break out?

Maybe this whole thing was a mistake…

Suddenly the creak of the door alerted her. The door was behind her, closest to her; she choose this seat so that if the man attempted something, she would reach the door first before he could block it. Heavy footsteps were heard making their way around the table, the chains making an unholy racket.

Lisa's spine straightened rigidly from familiar fear; she recalled how terrified Bart used to get, staying up through every night just to ensure he wasn't chopped up in his sleep. Now she felt this fear although she was in a controlled environment. Forcing herself to breathe slowly, she relaxed slightly.

"Well, well, well…if it isn't Lisa Simpson. My, you have grown." His voice was still deep and silk like, making her unintentionally shiver, her nails dragging against the table briefly. Quickly she made a fist and placed both hands in her lap on her purse. Despite the fact that he was in jail, he seemed to sound smug as though he manipulated the whole area.

"Hello Bob." She spoke in a leveled tone. It was funny how one would try to hide their fear by speaking calmly…when in fact that's the obvious way of showing how much they are scared. "You look annoyingly well." It was true; this man didn't have a gray hair in sight! Despite the wrinkles from stress when he frowned, he didn't seem to change that much.

"As do you, Ms. Simpson." He sat down, looking rather relaxed. "What pleasure do I owe you for such a visit? I fear even if I sign a petition to stop the Nuclear Plant that it wouldn't count for much."

Ignoring this, she answered with a firm tone, leaning forward slightly. "I'll get straight to the point; I want to hear your side of the story. I want to hear the side of the story you weren't able to tell in court yesterday."

There was a moment of silence at first, something flashing in Bob's eyes, but he smirked to some extent. "Writing a story about how I 'killed' your brother after so many years? Trying to become the next Shakespeare or Stephen King?"

"No, I'm trying to be the next Nobel Prize winner but I'm putting that on hold." It was crystal clear that the girl was not here and not in the mood to joke around with him. As much as she hated to acknowledge this fact, her visit was probably like Christmas to him since he could tease and taunt her. Not only did she suspect to be the only other intelligent person in Springfield who could deliver a witty remark or pun, she suspected she was the only one able to understand him. After all, this jail was filled with not so smart people.

There was a serious gleam to Bob's eye that wasn't there before. He leaned back against the metal chair as though it were a recliner. "I see…Why?" There was rightful suspicion in his tone.

Copying what he had just done, she leaned back as well. "…Because if you aren't the real killer, I want the real murderer brought to justice for my brother."


Next chapter: Bob's side of the story, Lisa's skepticism, justice! Review!