Chapter Seven: Movie Night

Warning: Somewhat graphic scene of violence in this chapter.

"Hey Rod, It's me Bart. Listen, we're having movie night over here and I was wondering if you and Todd would like to come over and join us?" said Bart, speaking from phone in the kitchen, unable to wipe the mischievous grin from his face. Of course, Rod and Todd could be described as having quite the sheltered childhood and horror films were strictly forbidden by their father.

"Bart? As in Bart Simpson?" came the confused voice of the eldest Flanders kid on the other end of the line.

"The one and only! So are you guys up for it? Tonight is going to be totally epic!" said Bart.

"While I must thank you for your kind offer Bart, our Dad only let's us watch movies that he's reviewed personally himself," Rod replied politely.

"It's just the 'Happy Little Elves', nothing more wholesome and family oriented than that!" Bart assured him, trying his damnedest to keep the deceit and amusement from his voice.

"Dad says that elves are the devil's henchmen! The demon-spawn of Satan! I'm sorry Bart, but I'll have to turn you down on the offer. Thanks anyway."

"But what about Santa's elves? Aren't they like... holy or something?" Bart shrugged.

"No."

"Uh okay... whatever. Just forget I mentioned it," Bart hung up, quickly becoming bored at messing with the Flanders' brothers. It was getting late, the sun was setting and the rest of Cosette's brood would be arriving soon for the scheduled movie night. Bart hadn't seen his cousins in years and he was sort of looking forward to it. When they were younger, they were like his partners in crime, but as the years passed, they seemed to have grown apart.

Homer had cooped himself up in the basement in front of the TV, still sulking and angry at Marge for letting people move in without discussing it with him first. Marge on the other hand, seemed to be feeling guilty over her own uncontrollable hospitality. To keep herself occupied, Marge was going all out in getting things prepared for the movie night and made sure that Bart, Lisa and Maggie all pitched in to help. They'd set out all of the extra pillows and blankets in the TV room, made fruit punch and set out plenty of snacks on the kitchen table.

It wasn't long before Cosette's car could be heard pulling up and sounds of kids yelling and fighting could be heard all the way from the driveway. Marge sighed warily as she always did whenever the Nealson kids visited.

The first to come through the door was Kirk, the second oldest. He was 21, tall and lanky with short, tousled brown hair. Initially, he came off as a bit snooty, standoffish and perhaps a little too polite for his own good, quite opposite of the rowdy and rambunctious kid he used to be. Consequently, he'd also came out as gay last year, something which his mother touted proudly at every opportunity as if he were on display as her own personal GLBT trophy.

Next in line was Jean Luc, the troublesome red-head. He was 16 now, the same age as Bart and the two had a lot in common personality wise.

The two youngest were Marco and Spencer, ages 10 and 8 respectively, though they appeared the same age. Marco, the one with the dirty-blond spiky hair sort of like Bart's, was a budding chef and loved to cook for the family. Spencer was slightly chubby with brown hair in a distinctive Beatles-esque stlye and a penchant for asking dumb questions.

Coming in behind them was Cosette and Cassie. It seemed that Kelly, the eldest hadn't come with them.

"No! I told you it's mine!" Marco yelled, trying to snatch a Spongebob thermos from Spencer's firm grip.

"But you said I could have it!" Spencer whined. The two struggled with the thermos for a while until their mother finally cut in.

"Shut the hell up! Both of you!" Cosette yelled, closing in on the two boys and yanking the thermos out of their hands. "We are guests in this house and you'd better keep your voices down before I crack both your skulls!" she took a sip from the thermos. "Hmph... I guess it's mine now," Cosette then stuck her tongue out at them triumphantly, seeming suddenly just as childish as they were. Bart laughed as the two boys gawked at her in disbelief.

"Now where is my little red-head?" said Marge as she entered the foyer from the living room to greet them.

"Right here Ma'am," Jean Luc answered, shyly stepping forward with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Oh my! He's not so little anymore is he?" Marge remarked with surprise as the tall, thin, ginger-haired sixteen year old stood before her. Luc remained silent, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"And oh my goodness! Marco and Spencer are growing like vines aren't they?" said Marge.

"Nice to see you Aunt Marge!" said Spencer quickly before snatching the Spongebob thermos that his mother had sat onto the table and running up the stairs with it, Marco ran close behind his heels.

"They sure have a lot of energy don't they?" asked Marge. Cosette laughed and nodded in agreement.

- o - o - o -

Sheer chaos ensued in the half hour before the movie started. The two youngest boys had covered every inch of the house, wreaking havoc and breaking nearly everything they came into contact with. Lisa and Cassie were off god knows where, while Bart, Kirk and Jean Luc gathered around the PlayStation, playing the latest shoot-em up game. Homer had finally dredged up from the basement, slipped quietly into the room and sat on the couch to watch the boys playing the video game. After a while, Cosette came in and shut off the game just as Bart was about to take the win. Talk about bad timing!

"Okay guys! Everyone! The movie is starting soon!" Cosette yelled. Bart remained seated on the couch next to Kirk, Luc and Homer, while Lisa and Cassie came into the room and sat on the floor, curling up in blankets as the lights dimmed and the movie began.

The movie was Psycho, the 1998 remake. Maggie came into the darkened room and climbed up into her father's lap, but no one really seemed to take notice of her as they were all too occupied by what was playing on the television. As soon as the creepy, nails-on-chalk music began, Maggie began to whine, clutching tightly onto her father's shirt and hiding her face against his chest. Marge came in, quickly snatching her up and taking her off to her room, pursing her lips tightly with disapproval that they were about to let her watch something that would surely give her nightmares!

Even though the movie was fairly recent, it was still dated enough to have it's share of moments too corny to be scary, which was entertaining in it's own way. The one great redeeming point was the lovely blond actress, Ann Heche whose piercing blue eyes and waifish figure hardly no man nor woman could resist. When it came to the scene where Bates watched the woman undress through a peephole, Bart, Luc and Kirk all let out a knowing snicker while the younger kids all watched on with confusion, the subsequent sound of a zipper sliding down and the lustful gasps from the creeper Bates flying completely over their innocent heads.

Bart must have been mature for his age, because even at the young age of ten, he understood the irony of the man's name being 'Mr. Bates.' Lisa however, rolled her eyes in disgust, muttering something along the lines of "...uh... men..."

When the infamous shower scene played, Marco and Spencer screamed, while Bart exploded into laughter at the classic and dreadfully ear-splitting music that used to frighten him years ago, noting that the knife hadn't any blood on it even after supposedly plunging into flesh several times. The woman's pupils weren't even properly dilated after she'd hit the floor as the deceased should be.

The movie came to an end near 11 o'clock that night and Homer had fallen asleep on the couch, slouched over and leaning on Kirk's shoulder who looked over at him disgustingly as he'd started to drool. Bart stood up and stretched his arms over his head. Soon the lights switched on and Homer snapped awake, muttering incoherently just as his father Abe would upon awakening.

"Okay! That was fun! We need to do this every week eh Homie?" Cosette said, giving Homer a playful shove as he stood up. "Now time for sleep! I'll go find Marge so we can sort out the sleeping arrangement."

"S-sleeping... arrangement?" Homer muttered in his sleep-drunken stupor. Apparently this was the first he'd heard mention that this was to be a sleep over. Bart yawned again before leaving and heading up the stairs to his room. Having the whole Nealson clan over was always fun while it lasted, but they did have the nasty habit of overstaying their welcome.

Once in his room, Bart stripped off his clothes, leaving on only his boxers and socks, and slipped under the covers of his bed. He'd thoroughly enjoyed the movie night they'd had, but today had been a long and trying day and now he was tired, wanting nothing more than to sink into his bed and drift off into nothingness.

- o - o - o -

Bart sat up in bed and rubbed his sleepy eyes as morning rays of sunlight shown through his window, the new day greeting him with its warmth. He got out of bed, slowly making his way to the bathroom down the hall before anyone else could get to it so he could take a shower in peace.

As soon as he'd gotten the water to just the right temperature, he pulled off his boxers and socks and stepped in, the nearly scalding water cascading over him. It was a refreshingly soothing way to wake up in the morning and he shook his head under the spraying water, making sure to drench himself fully and taking a moment to savor the invigorating heat and steam. He thought back to the movie and to the shower scene where the woman was brutally stabbed and laughed that the thought even occurred to him in the first place. He wasn't a little kid anymore and it was just a ridiculous movie, no need to even give it a second thought.

Though, what a terrifying experience it must be to actually be stabbed to death in a shower, the spray of water masking any sounds an intruder might make. The shower was supposed to be a sanctuary, a place to feel safe, yet it was also a place where one was completely exposed and vulnerable, naked and unaware of the dangers that may lurk in hiding.

Bart shivered at the thought, but dismissed it, lathering up a bit of shampoo in his hands and running it through his hair thoroughly then rinsing it out. It was then that he heard a sudden click of the door, causing his body to jolt with alarm. He sighed, trying to calm his nerves.

"Lisa... or whoever you are, I'm in the SHOWER! Get out!" Bart growled with annoyance, shaking the last bit of suds from his hair. His eyes were a little blurry from the water, but whoever it was, they didn't appear to be leaving as he could see a tall silhouette through the sheer shower curtain. His first thought was that it was Kirk, judging by the height. While Bart was no prude and his own nudity was something he felt no shame over, the thought that his own cousin, and a male at that, would want to get a peek at him naked was more than a little disturbing, especially after he'd told him to leave!

"Hey, what's your PROBLEM dude? I told you to get out!" Bart yelled a little louder than before, but the figure loomed ever closer, slowly inching towards the shower. If it really was Kirk, then he had no idea what a creep his cousin really was! He heard deep, quiet laughter emanating from the mysterious figure behind the curtain and it was only when the figure grew nearer that the distinctive bush of wild red hair cast it's eerie shadow across the curtain like a spider about to snag its prey!

Panic tore through him and he was too terrified to scream as the hand firmly gripped the curtains and flung it open revealing the deranged clown from his childhood, a cruel maniacal grin on his face as he wielded a huge butcher knife over Bart's panic stricken naked body.

Bart dropped to his knees in horror, thick steam casting an almost surreal softness to his vision as the man cackled above him. Bart instinctively grabbed the shower curtain, clutching it tightly in case he had to use it as a shield or even to wrap around his attacker to momentarily stun him. Bob leaned down, slowly bringing the tip of the knife to Bart's belly. Bart trembled with terror at the helplessness of the situation and his frantic heartbeat rang violently in his ears.

"Scream and you die quickly..." Bob said, in a low, gruff voice. "...and we wouldn't want that would we?" Bart heard himself let out an muffled shriek as the knife grazed his skin, burning hotly as the blade slid from his chest and down his stomach, leaving a shallow scratch. He'd never been more terrified in his life! His heart beat fiercely against his ribs with adrenalin, urging him to fight back, yet afraid that any sudden movement would provoke Bob further.

He looked up into Bob's cold eyes, searching, pleading for even the tiniest trace of sympathy, yet all he found was pure, raw hatred and malice, excitement even.

"Thine happy dagger... eager to penetrate such young, tender flesh," Bob spoke, his voice deep and sultry as if turned on by the thought. Without further hesitation, Bart felt the pressure of the blade, pressing, cutting, burrowing just below his navel, the blinding pain almost unbearable, driving in deeper. He cried out, hoping that someone would hear and come to his aid, but his throat suddenly became dry and hoarse, his voice no longer worked. Red water ran down, swirling into the shower drain, draining with it his life force. Bob pulled out the knife and prepared to stab him again and he knew the knife was piercing him again, but he couldn't feel it anymore as the world began to spin out of focus.

"Leaving so soon? Pity. I was so enjoying this..." He heard Bob's amused voice echoing hazily through the fog of his own dwindling consciousness. Likely the last voice he would ever hear so he savored every inflection of that haunting voice.

Suddenly, he felt his whole body jerk and for a moment, he wondered if he might actually be dead. He opened his eyes and looked up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom and realized that it had all been some horrible nightmare.

"Dammit Bob!" Bart slammed his fist hard against the mattress as the last bit of lingering adrenalin still buzzed through his veins and his head spun with fleeting terror. His chest hurt from the excitement of it all and he struggled to catch his breath. Of all things to dream of. He was too old to be having nightmares about Bob and he was way too old to let some lame horror film infiltrate his subconsciousness.

Why was it that just because Bob was back in town, he had to let the man invade every aspect of his life? It was getting ridiculous! Even unknowingly, Bob still had an influence on his life and he hated that there was no escape, for they were like gravity. Once binary stars, attracted to each other with near equal force, now it appeared that they were more like an atom: Bart, the charged electrons that exuberantly orbited a seemingly indifferent nucleus that was Bob.

He sat up and wiped his hand over his face to wake himself up and hopefully make some sense of everything. In the distance, he could hear kids running up and down the stairs playing and making an awful fuss in the middle of the night.

"SHUT UP!" He heard Luc yell from downstairs. Their family must be used to such chaos at night, but the Simpsons family normally stayed quiet at night for the most part. He could hear Homer's angry voice from his parents room, but he couldn't make out anything that was said.

Bart looked over at the clock on his bedside table, the red neon numbers indicating that it was 3:11 am. Conceding to the fact that there was likely no chance of him falling back asleep again for the rest of the night, he got up and booted on his computer. He hadn't been on the internet as often lately and couldn't help but to wonder what Milhouse was up to. Perhaps a quick check of his Facebook page would quench his curiosity.

Bart logged on and was shocked to see that Milhouse had de-friended him, though he could still see his page and lots of interaction with the new guy he'd seen him talking to in the parking lot. His name was Alberto and he was tall, had an award winning smile, rectangular glasses that made him look quite intellectual and his coal black hair was gelled back with a slight cow's lick in the front; certainly the coolest looking nerd he'd ever seen. Milhouse's replacement best friend no doubt. Bart gritted his teeth with jealousy the more he read. Why was Milhouse so mad at him that he'd willingly write him out of his life like that? Was he trying to teach him a lesson for neglecting their friendship? Perhaps trying to distance himself from Bart because of his paranoia-driven stalking of Sideshow Bob?

Come to think of it, maybe stalking Bob online would be a much safer option. The search bar taunted him, teased his curiosity until he could stand it no longer and just had to search the name Robert Underdunk Terwilliger. He fully expected the profile to be as mysterious as it's owner, but what he found was more than he'd expected to learn about his former knife wielding tormentor.

Robert Underdunk Terwilliger Studied at Yale University Lives in Springfield

Description: About me? Well, I could go on forever about how wonderful I am, but why bore you with such superfluous exposition?

Basic Info

Sex: Male

Interested in: Men and Women

Relationship Status: Divorced

Languages: English Italian French German

Political Views: Republican

Quote: Vile deeds like poison weeds bloom well in prison air, it is only what is good in man that withers there.

Wait, did he just read that correctly? Bob was interested in both men and women? Bart smirked. He should have known as Bob had set off his gaydar plenty of times. Of course, Bob had confirmed that much years ago when they'd met him in Italy and Homer mentioned to Bob that he'd always assumed that he was gay. Bob's rambling response was that he'd 'experimented' in college.

It also appeared that Bob had divorced his wife and by the looks of it, they weren't even in correspondence on Facebook. His interest piqued even further, Bart looked back at the time line and saw that Bob had left for Capital City, New York, then Las Vegas before finally returning to Springfield. Bart went on to read several of his most recent entries.

- Only a couple of days of community service left and I'm finally free!

Cecil: Bravo brother! Excellent accomplishment to add to your resume.

Bob: Do shut up dear brother.

Snake: Congrats Bob, though this jailbird isn't so lucky. I got two more weeks to serve on mine.

Bob: Ah, good luck with that. I feel for you old friend.

- Trying to kick the smoking habit, but as soon as I put down the cigarettes, I pick up a cigar to compensate.

Krusty: donnt stop smokin on my acownt. my walls R alredy stayned with nicateen enyway.

Bob: Thanks Krusty. Thanks for everything. Despite your abysmal spelling, I really owe you for giving this weathered drifter a place to stay. I am eternally grateful.

Cecil: Aren't you two under the same roof? Why message on Facebook?

Bob: Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.

Cecil: How original. Quotation is a serviceable substitute for wit.

Bob: Really now, is that yet another quote from the illustrious Oscar Wilde?

Cecil: Yes.

So Bob was living with Krusty? Interesting. It seemed that their on again off again friendship was on the mend and maybe Krusty could keep him on the straight and narrow. Bart read on.

- Met an old acquaintance, well enemy, in the park the other day. I'm hoping to bury the hatchet soon and start anew. After all, it's best to always forgive your enemies, nothing annoys them so much.

Cecil: Might I know this 'old acquaintance'?

Bob: You might.

Cecil: Ah. A man of mystery eh Bob?

Bob: Don't you have anything better to do than to stalk me on Facebook?

Cecil: Aw dear brother, don't you realize that your life is all I ever think about at any given moment? *sigh* I forget, the nuances of sarcasm tend to get lost over the internet.

Bart had the feeling that he knew who this 'old acquaintance' was, but it was a little disheartening the way Bob mentioned that he wanted to 'bury the hatchet'. He only hoped he had meant it figuratively.

- I'll be playing the lead in Les Misérables this weekend. My part is the long suffering and unjustly persecuted prisoner 24601 of course.

Llewellyn: I can hardly wait Robert. Please tell me that your acting prowess has improved since last we met?

Bob: You're about as charming as a rattlesnake Llew.

Cecil: Ah, community theater. The last refuge of the desperate. Couldn't cut it in on Broadway I take it?

Bob: I will ignore that comment.

Cecil: You responded so you didn't really ignore it. ;)

Bob: I really should KILL you.

Cecil: :)

Bob: :(

Cecil: ~heart~

Bob: -_-

Cecil: :D

Bob: STOP IT now!

Cecil: \^_^/

Apu: 0_o

Bob: Apu? What the-?

Apu: Sorry. All those emoticons. I couldn't resist!

Waylon: I look forward to the performance! Bob: Thank you Waylon. Be sure to bring Mr. Burns if you can. I look forward to conversing with like minded individuals.

Waylon: Affirmative Mr. Valjean. ;)

- I am but a prisoner of my own dark fantasies.

Surrendering to my will, you fall to your knees.

Slipping from oppressed to oppressor so effortlessly.

Like a lamb, you come to me so willingly.

Shadows rustle in the night.

You cannot move, bound so tight.

Securely fastened are those ties that bind.

There is no escape, not that you would mind.

Terror builds in your heart, excitement in mine.

So righteously wicked, so sinfully divine.

When you awaken, sure that it's only a dream,

I laugh quietly at the memory of your scream.

Stella: Woah Bob! I had no idea you were into such kinky fetishes! :D

Bob: What? I was writing about the oppression of being shackled into a life of imprisonment. Just getting into character for my role as Jean Valjean!

Stella: Yeah, right.

Bart read back over the poem, that familiar wave of fear he'd had from his nightmare quickly returning. Bob definitely had a sadistic streak in him, there was no doubt in that. Even if his killer instincts had subsided, it appeared that there was still that part of him that needed to dominate and victimize. He surely got off on it. Bart shuttered at the thought that some of that rage had been inflicted upon him in the past.


A.N. - So anyway, here goes another chapter. I hope it was satisfactory! I'd also like to say thanks for all the reviews!