Disclaimer - The rights to The Simpsons and its characters belong to Matt Groening, the Fox Broadcasting Company, and any others associated with the show. No profit is being made from this fanfiction, this is all just for fun :)
Sorry for the wait, this week has been hell, academically-wise. I'll try to be more prompt in the future! Also, I apologize if this chapter isn't too good. I've been rushing myself severely during the weekends to get this out, and I think it influenced the quality of this chapter... Once again, I'll try to do better in the future.
Also, just something to keep in mind, this chapter was originally going to be much longer. However, while writing this one, I decided to split this chapter into 2 separate ones. Not only would this mean getting this one out quicker, but it would also keep one chapter from being overwhelmingly long. So think of it as a chapter 7 part 1 and 2 or a chapter 7.1 and 7.2. Whatever floats you boat! Either way, enjoy...
Chapter 7 - Tindol Tailor Soldier Spy
It was early Friday morning at the Simpson household.
It had been a week since our previous events, and currently, the family (sans Marge) was seated at their circular dining table, draped with its royal blue sheet. Marge stood in front of the kitchen's aqua counters, humming to herself as she prepared lunch for Bart and Lisa to take to school with them. Just goes to show a mother's work is never done.
Meanwhile, at the table, Homer, Lisa, Bart, and Maggie all had their breakfasts in front of them. Maggie sat in her high chair, messily spooning her hot cereal into her mouth. Bart and Lisa had bowls of children's cereal, and Homer, being the somewhat infantile man he was, ate the same brand they were eating. Despite it being 8 in the morning, Homer was up to yet another one of his puerile antics.
As mentioned, Homer was consuming a bowl of cereal. Strangely, every time he'd finish the one in his bowl, he'd rapidly add a new batch of cereal and milk in at a vigorous speed. This whole process of him gulping down a bowl, adding a new batch in, and eating that batch all happened within the short span of 5 seconds, almost as if he was in a serious rush to get somewhere.
Marge overhears Homer's hard-to-miss slurping and turns around to take heed to this.
"Homer, we talked about this..." She places her knuckles on her hips. "Could you please eat your cereal in a more civilized manner?"
"No can do, Marge." Homer says, immediately going back to eating his cereal.z
"I promise, Homie, there's no need to rush. You aren't going to miss work!" Marge assures.
"Miss work? I wish..." Homer says, picking up back where he left off.
Marge raises her eyebrow. "Oh? Then you must really like this cereal..." She assumes.
"Pssh! This crap? Not a chance!" Homer claims. However, he still continues to eat the cereal. Now Marge was even more confused.
"Then... Why are you eating it like that?" She questions.
Homer finally takes a break so he can fully explain. "Because Marge, the box says right here that if you finish all the cereal, you'll get a special prize at the bottom of the box!"
"A special prize?" Marge repeats for clarification.
"Mmhm! A special prize!" Homer nods. He picks up the colorful cereal box, and begins reading off the back of it. "See, the box says there are 5 prizes in all: The Krusty the Clown brand cereal spoon, the Krusty the Clown brand glow-in-the-dark stick, the Krusty the Clown brand race car that comes with the Krusty the Clown brand customizable sticker set, the Krusty the Clown brand PEZ dispenser, and last but not least, the Krusty the Clown brand talking kazoo, that makes Krusty's trademark 'hey hey' when you hum into it! Ooh, fingers crossed for the kazoo!"
Marge tries her best to be patient with her husband's childishness. "Homer, you realize you can just remove the bag of cereal and take the prize that's under it...?"
"But Marge, that's cheating!" Homer whines. "And what kind of a man would I be if I cheated? I'm gonna win this prize fair and square! Do you think Christopher Columbus cheated when he discovered Antarctica? Well, he didn't, and that's how he became the first president of the United States! Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a prize to win!" Homer resumes his rapid eating, and Marge can only murmur with indignation. Besides, it would be easier to just let Homer get away with it.
Luckily, Homer was nearing the end of the box. He pours in the last bit of cereal and milk and quickly ingests it all in, finally satisfied. Homer drinks the last bit of milk left in the bowl and grins triumphantly, as he picks up the empty cereal box again to see his "special prize".
However, when he peeked inside, there was no prize inside.
Homer frowns. "D'oh!" He grunts. "What a rip-off! This is the 6th time this has happened!"
Lisa speaks up. "Dad, if it makes you feel any better, I think I know where your prize is."
"You do?!" Homer gasps. He clutches onto Lisa's shoulders tightly and brings his face dangerously close to hers. "Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!"
"I'd appreciate it if you took your hands off me, Dad..."
"Oh, sorry." Homer says, quickly putting his hands back to his side.
Lisa begins her explanation. "I was examining you eat your cereal, and you must have been so caught up with eating your way through to get to the prize, that you didn't even notice..." She gets cut off by her own uncontrollable tittering. Homer began to get severely impatient.
"What? I didn't even notice what? Tell me, Lisa! I can't take this pressure!" He whinges, almost like a child would.
Lisa tames her giggling. "I'm sorry..." She says with a tiny grin. "You didn't even notice... You ate the prize with the cereal! Just like I'm sure you did all those previous times you couldn't find your prize!"
Now that she had mentioned it, Homer did realize he was going awfully fast, and that must've caused the prize to land right into his mouth without him noticing. But he still had his doubts.
"Ate it? No I didn't!" Homer asserts. "I'll admit, I've done some pretty stupid things in my lifetime, but there's no way I'd ever-"
Just then, Homer burps (evidently due to all the milk he had just drank). When he does, a very odd thing happens: Krusty the Clown's trademark "Hey, hey!" Is heard from him. However, it is not Homer who makes this sound, but something inside of him...
He gasps with disbelief. "The Krusty the Clown brand talking kazoo?!" He had clearly eaten it, and the burp triggered the toy's sound to go off inside of him.
(A/N: I am fully aware that a burp wouldn't sound a kazoo in real life, but come on, this is "The Simpsons", give me a break.)
He sighs with chagrin. "Ohhh..."
"Don't worry, Dad." Lisa says, as she begins rummaging through her pockets for something, and pulls out a small glow stick. "You can have my Krusty the Clown brand glow-in-the-dark stick, if you want."
"Really?" Homer asks, brightening up. Lisa nods and hands him the stick. Homer takes it and looks at it, but isn't as impressed as you'd think he'd be.
"They ripped you off too, Lisa! It isn't even glowing!" Homer gripes. "I swear, when I get my hands on that Krusty, he'll wish he never messed with the Simpsons!"
Lisa sighs. "It's called a glow-in-the-dark stick for a reason... You have to wait till it's dark! How about you try again tonight?" Lisa suggests.
"Hmm, ok. I'll take your word for it..." Homer mumbles. "... Er.. C-Could you be there with me? Just in case it doesn't work and I need your help...?" He bashfully asks.
Lisa smiles and nods her head "yes".
Homer sighs with relief. "Oh good... Hey, Lisa! Watch this, I can make the sound again!" Homer burps, and the "hey, hey" is head once again. Despite Lisa being the most mature member of the family, she was still an 8 year old, and couldn't help but find this slightly amusing.
"Hehe!" She giggles. "Again!"
Homer complies, and activates the kazoo's sound once more. Lisa laughs a second time, and Maggie begins to giggle as well, clapping her hands together as she did. Even Marge, who was initially vexed at Homer's childishness, couldn't help but titter a bit herself. The whole family laughs among themselves, greatly relishing this rare moment of spending time together as a family (without conflict arising, that is.) They were all enjoying themselves, all of them except... Bart.
Still feeling severely disconsolate since what had taken place last week, Bart sat at the table, sorrowfully staring down at his knees. His untouched bowl of cereal stood in front of him, getting noticeably soggy from sitting in the milk for so long.
He hadn't spoken a word since he had woken up, and wasn't drawing as much attention to himself like he usually did at the breakfast table. No flinging his oatmeal, no wearing his bowl over his head, not even jingling his cutlery around. He just faced down gloomily.
In fact, that's how it was all week. Bart spoke an average of 4 to 5 times a day, and whenever he did, they were usually responses to queries, and these responses contained a minimal amount of words. Heck, sometimes he downright refused to reply to people.
It wasn't a surprised that Bart had returned to being a very careless student, and it didn't take very long for his "A" in art to fade out of existence. But what was the point anymore? Art was just like any other class with Skinner running it, which made him less inclined to succeed.
In brief, Bart wasn't in the best mood since losing his teacher, and hasn't been as social as he once was. In stead, he found much more enjoyment in being alone, and couldn't remember the last time he touched his sketchbook.
At this point, the laughter in the room had died down. Lisa and Maggie continued to eat their breakfasts while Marge continued preparing lunch.
"Bart, Lisa, what would you like for lunch today?" Marge asks, unfolding two brown lunch bags open.
"Hmm..." Lisa thinks. "Pita bread! With some hummus on the side, too, please!"
"Mmhm!" Marge opens up a bag of Pita and puts it inside the bag, along with a small container of hummus. "How about you, Bart? What do you want for lunch?"
Bart doesn't respond, and in stead, keeps facing down. Marge awkwardly waits a few more seconds for him to say something. The whole room gets silent.
"... Er... How about a sandwich?" She suggests, forcing a smile. Bart doesn't argue with her decision.
She takes out two slices of white bread and starts putting slices of tomato, lettuce, and ham in between. "Do you want it cut into quarters or diagonal?" She asks, hoping to actually receive a reply. Once again, Bart doesn't speak.
Marge murmurs. "Mmmm... Diagonal it is..."
Lisa looks over at her brother worriedly. It was just so perplexing, Lisa had always been known for her keen sense of observation and sleuth-like abilities, yet she still hasn't been able to crack the case with what has been bothering her brother so much for the past week. Initially, she had thought it was something petty and trifling, but she knew even Bart wouldn't hold onto something like that for this long. She spent the last 7 days practically cooped up in her room, trying to make sense out of this, wondering what could possibly be on his mind. However, her attempts proved fruitless, and all of her theories were quickly disproved. Though, she hasn't given up just yet.
Homer catches a glance of Bart himself, and whispers something to Lisa in a not-so-discreet tone.
"Hey, Lisa... Call me crazy, but I don't think Bart's very happy right now..." He states.
Seeing as Homer wasn't speaking very unobtrusively himself, Lisa saves herself the trouble and speaks in a normal tone of voice. "Well, of course, Dad! He's been like this since last week! I just wish I knew why..."
"Hmm.. Well, when you kids were babies and started getting crabby, it was usually because you were hungry," Homer says. "so maybe he just needs some food in him!"
Lisa makes an unsure face. "Dad, I don't think that's why he's-"
Before she can conclude, Homer gets up and stands behind Bart's chair. He lifts up Bart's cereal spoon and holds it towards his gloomy face.
"Open up, Bart!" Homer sings. "Here comes the airplane! Choo choo! Wait a second... That's a train... Uh.. Beep! Beep! No, that's a bus... Hmm.. I think it's... Honk! No, wait... What sound does a plane make again?"
"Dad, I think you should sit down..." Lisa advises, as she begins to spot Bart getting noticeably irritated.
"No, wait! I've got this!" Homer assures. "Uh... Reeown! Pbbbt! Yeah! Yeah! That's it! Open up, boy!"
Homer attempts to get Bart to take in the food, but his mouth was practically hinged shut. "C'mon... C'mon..." He mutters, trying his best to get it into his mouth. After nearly a whole minute of trying, Homer realizes it's no use. He shrugs, and starts eating the cereal himself.
"Dad!" Lisa scolds.
"What?" Homer innocently queries. "It's not like he was gonna eat it!" Lisa rolls her eyes.
Maggie, having finished her breakfast, puts her pacifier in her mouth and begins sucking on it. She looks over at her brother and she, being of above-average intelligence for her age, immediately recognizes his distraught state. There wasn't much she could do as a baby, so she did the only thing she could think of: she removes the binky from her mouth and holds it out to her brother with a bright smile on her face, hoping offering him the pacifier would cheer him up.
Obviously, this doesn't work, as Bart is unresponsive to her attempt and keeps looking at his knees. Maggie takes the hint and sadly places it back in her mouth.
From there, the room gets dead silent. Homer had quickly lost interest in his (stolen) cereal and just stares at Bart. Lisa does the same, just with more concern. Maggie stares at her brother also, and Marge, who had her back turned, still worriedly peaked at Bart from the corner of her eye. This silence drags on for a rather uncomfortable amount of time, until Marge speaks up (still with her back turned from the table).
"Bart... I've been saying this for the past few days, and I'll say it again... Whatever's bothering you, you can tell us... We'll try our best to help you..."
There is some silence before she continues. "Just so you know, we've been very worried about you..."
Now finished with her statement, she awaits a reply. The whole family did. All 4 pairs of eyes were glued onto Bart, hoping just about anything would come out of his mouth. The wait was truly harrowing, and Bart was beginning to test their patience. After nearly an entire minute, however, Bart finally gives a response.
That is, if you could even call it a response, as it did not consist of a single word, but merely a sigh.
The 4 of them exchange blank glances. Not the response they were hoping for, but at least he... Acknowledged them, in a way.
Right on cue, the Springfield Elementary school bus is overheard pulling in in front of their house.
Marge immediately snaps back into "mother mode". "Oh! Bart, Lisa! I think I hear the bus outside, quick! Go, go, go!"
Lisa hurriedly jumps out of her seat, while Bart grimly pushes his chair out, giving him room to exit. Marge follows both kids outside, leaving Homer and Maggie at the table by themselves.
"Heh... Poor suckers..." Homer smirks. "Imagine how awful it must be to wake up at 7 in the morning only to get all dressed up to spend tedious hours at some building where you just sit down, listen to some old bag blabber about god only knows what, and only get 30 minutes to eat half-decent food! Then after all of it, you come home a tired wreck! I mean, can you imagine how unfortunate a person would have to be to... D'oh!"
The first thing they see is the open school bus in front of their sidewalk. Marge nearly pushes Bart to get on, but strangely, keeps Lisa by her side.
"Go on, Bart! You don't want to be late for school, now do you?" She urges. Bart doesn't fight back and allows Marge to force him onto the bus. Once he reaches the small steps, she lets go of him and allows him to walk inside. Marge looks at Otto.
"Lisa will be on in just a second." She informs the bus driver. "I just need to... Talk to her for a few seconds."
"Take your time." He says. "I need to wait for the effects to wear off before I continue driving anyways."
"Effects of what?" Marge questions.
"Effects of... Uh... My medication!" He states with a sketchy grin. Marge tilts her head uncertainly.
"Hmm.. Ok.." She heads back to Lisa, still giving Otto a suspicious glance as she leaves.
Lisa stood on the front porch rather impatiently. She looks up at her mother. "Mom, can we hurry this up, please? I don't want to be late for school!"
"It'll be quick, Lisa!" Marge assures her. "Now... Do you still have our... 'means of communication'."
Lisa sighs. "Yes..." She mumbles, lifting up a "Malibu Stacy" themed walkie talkie from one of her pockets. "Do you?"
"You bet I do!" Marge takes out an identical walkie talkie. "Now, do you remember the plan?"
Lisa continues to speak in a very monotonous, uninterested tone. "Yup... You want me to 'spy' on Bart at school and get as much 'intel' I can, then communicate all of my findings to you over these walkie talkies, right?"
"Mmhm!" Marge nods optimistically. "Foolproof, right?"
"I suppose..."
Lisa, being the skeptic she was, was very dubious of this. It all started last night, when Marge told Lisa about her idea on how to find out what's been irking Bart lately. Her mother was known for her rather outre schemes, so even before she heard her out, Lisa wasn't very "on board" with her proposition. But Lisa wasn't one for dismissing ideas without at least giving them a shot, so she decided to see where they could go with this. Who knows? It could prove to be successful. Her doubt, however, was still plainly visible.
"Remember, Lisa, I'm counting on you to keep an eye on Bart all of today!" Marge says. "Wait, wait! I mean, on the 'Paperbag Punk'!" She winks.
Lisa rolls her eyes. "Mom, we don't have to use the code names yet..."
"I'm just practicing, Lisa." Marge says. "Did you pack extra batteries into your backpack in case the walkie talkie gives out?"
Lisa glances at the walkie unsurely. "... Mom, are you sure this will work?"
"Of course I'm sure!" Marge says. "I even saw it on a TV show once! It was about two spies using these super high-tech walkie talkies to get information on this other guy!"
"And how did that turn out?" Lisa inquires.
Marge curls her finger under her chin. "Mmmm.. Well, the two spies ended up killing each other in the end... But I wasn't paying much attention anyway."
Lisa gives her mother an unconvinced glare, but knows disagreeing would only make this drag on for much longer. She decides to just go with it.
"Fine... We'll try." says Lisa.
Marge bursts with glee. "Oh, thank you, sweetie! You won't regret this!" She bends down to hug Lisa tightly.
"Can I go now, please?" Lisa begs. Not only was she on a schedule, but she couldn't help but feel as if the whole bus had their eyes locked onto her.
"Oh, right!" Marge lets go of Lisa, and allows her to make her way onto the bus. "Bye, Bart! Bye, Lisa!" She bids, before walking back into the house, her large beehive locks barely managing to fit under their doorway, as usual.
By now, Lisa had found her brother and the bus had continued on its way to school.
Lisa sees Bart, his face just as gloomy as it was at the table.
"Is... Um... This seat taken?" She asks, forcing a grin.
Without a word, Bart scooches towards the bus' seat's window and stares through it, avoiding eye contact with his sister. Lisa takes this as a "yes", and awkwardly sits next to him, making sure to discreetly put her talkie in her book bag, allowing the antenna to peak out through her open zipper.
The initial preliminary task from Marge was to find a way to distract Bart on the bus so he wouldn't pay any heed to her using the walkie talkie. However, Lisa didn't think this was necessary, as Bart looked pretty distracted by his own anguish already, so she began.
Lisa takes the pink walkie talkie from her bag and examines it the best she could to find the button she needed to press to contact Marge.
"Hm... This is volume, this is the power button... Gah! I knew I should've stuck to the original model in stead of buying this needlessly complicated one!" Lisa complains. "Think, Lisa... What did the manual say again...? Transmission is... Here!"
Lisa clicks a small button on the device's side. However, Lisa has to remind herself that this is still a toy, and in stead of transmitting her to her mother, it plays another one of Malibu Stacy's rather controversial phrases.
"I can't open this bottle of nail polish! Where's a man when you need one?" The toy chirps. Lisa groans with repugnance.
She finds another button, except it was much bigger than the previous one. She holds onto that one with her finger, hoping it was the right one.
"Oh please, oh please!" She chants internally. "H-Hello...?" She silently says towards the speaker. A familiar, croaky voice is heard on the other line.
"Hello? Lisa?" Marge replies, her voice being slightly muffled by the radio static. Lisa smiles with relief.
"Yes!" She grins, and clears her throat. "Pony Whisperer is on! Do you copy?" Lisa says in a whisper, hoping not to get Bart's attention.
"Do I wha-?" Marge questions. "And who's Pony Whisperer?"
Lisa sighs. "Mom, that's my code name! We went over this last night! We can't use our real names..."
Marge is silent for a few seconds, trying her best to understand what she's getting at. Eventually, it hits her. "Ohhh! I forgot!" Marge chuckles at her mistake. "Let's start over!"
Lisa forbears from losing her mind. "Pony Whisperer is on... Do you copy?"
"Yes! I copy!" Marge speedily replies. "... Now what do I say?"
"Your codename."
"Mmmm.. Oh, right! Sarge Mimpson to Pony Whisperer, I copy!"
Lisa makes a face. "Mom... Are you really sure that's a good code name...?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" Marge asks, evidently oblivious.
"I mean... 'Sarge Mimpson', a bit forthright, don't you think?" The daughter explains.
"Lisa, you clearly don't get it." Marge remarks. "Sarge Mimpson is Marge Simpson with the first letters switched! No one will be able to tell!"
Lisa clenches her fist. "Mom, I get it." She grits. "I'm just saying it's so..."
"So...?"
"... How about I just call you 'Mom' in stead?" Lisa suggests, trying to level her patience.
Marge raises an eyebrow. "Well, that will just give it away, won't it? I mean, it's so obvious!"
Lisa groans.
"Forget it..." She mumbles. Lisa gets back into character. "I'm on the bus with 'you-know-who'. We haven't reached school yet, but we should be there in a few minutes."
"10-1!" Marge says.
"10-1...?" Lisa asks, as if Marge said something wrong.
"Oh no no! Wait! I mean... 10-3! Right? Or.. 10-19? Yeah, I think it's 10-19!" Marge smiles.
"10-4, Mom." Lisa corrects. "That means you understood what I said."
"I thought 10-4 means there's been an accident."
"That's 10-50." Lisa states.
Marge murmurs. "Mmmm.. This was much less complicated in that TV show I saw... But Hollywood does seem to enjoy glorifying certain things."
Marge was rambling at this point, so Lisa cuts in. "I can't talk for long, lest 'Paperbag' hears us and starts getting ideas. Over."
"Over... Hm.." Marge tries her best to analyze what Lisa had just said. "Uh.. Oh! Yeah! Over means you've finished your message, right?"
Lisa nods. "Mmhm. See, Mom, you're already getting the hang of this! Before you know it, you'll be a professional special agent."
Marge grins. "Like James Bond!"
"Well, I don't think I'd go as far as to call you James Bond, you're more of an... Austin Powers!" Lisa says.
"I'll take what I can get!" Marge says. "Now, if we're going to find out what's bothering your brother, you're gonna have to spend as much time with him as possible. You can do that for me, right?"
"But, Mom, I can't just spend the entire day watching Bart. I have my own classes to attend." Lisa states.
"But there's gotta be a few times you see Bart in your free time, right?" Marge asks.
"Well... We do have lunch and recess together, and sometimes we cross paths in the hallways-"
"Perfect! You're bound to learn something in those moments," Marge remarks. "and don't be afraid to ask around. I'm sure that nice Milhouse boy should have some info on Bart. Ask him! You two seem to get along great!"
Lisa shudders a bit. "Ok..." She sighs.
"And don't forget, Lisa: tell me everything!" Marge directs.
"Ok..." Lisa repeats. "We're reaching school, so I'll call you back later."
"Have a wonderful day, sweetie!" Marge beams.
"You too. Pony Whisperer, signing off!"
"... Signing off what?"
Otto parks the school bus in front of Springfield Elementary's concrete sidewalk. Once he opens the door, 2 dozen students begin pouring out, each one conversing with a pal. Bart kept his distance from the others, and Lisa attempted to keep up with him. As he exits the vehicle, Lisa watches him, standing on the final bus step.
"'Operation: Wild Bart Chase' is a go." She says to herself. She leaps off the last step and begins approaching her downcast brother.
Bart's slouch lowers with each step. Lisa walks next to him with the intentions of getting his attention.
"So... Bart!" She gives him a sweet smile. "Are you excited for school today?"
Bart doesn't respond.
"Erm... Let me rephrase that... Are you excited for art today?" Lisa thought that would've been a better question, what with Bart's newfound enjoyment in the subject. Unfortunately, she had chosen a fairly bad time to ask him that.
Without a word, Bart speeds his walking up to get away from her, saddening Lisa. However, this did give her a clue.
"Hmm... Bart seemed strangely apathetic about having art today... And now that I think about it, I don't remember the last time he showed me one of his inane drawings..." She says to herself.
Lisa removes her backpack and sets it on the ground. She begins rummaging through it and pulls out a small notepad and a black pen tucked through its rings. She begins jotting something down on the first line.
"Losing interest in art(?)" She writes, making sure to add the question mark. Lisa slides the pad into her dress pocket and looks back at Bart, who was now long gone, possibly already in the building at this point. She shakes her head.
"Let's hope not..." She sighs to herself.
By now, Bart was trying to maneuver himself through the bustling hallways of Springfield Elementary. It was just as rowdy as it always was, children screaming, throwing paper planes and flinging spit balls at each other. And like always, no authority figure bothered to put a stop to it. It was old news at this point...
Bart manages to walk past the rambunctious setting, simply wanting to find his way to his classroom. He knew the only way to end something was to start it.
Once he found Mrs. Krabappel's door, he spots a familiar note attached to it. Yup, you guessed it: "4TH GRADE REPORT TO ART CLASS"
Bart makes a detour to the art room, having to pass through the same herd of wild classmates from 1 minute ago. After getting past that catastrophe a second time, he spots the art room's tawny door and approaches it.
He twists the knob and opens the door, expecting to see the art room. But in stead, he's greeted with the sight of the educational bureaucrat himself: Seymour Skinner. He stands stiffly and sternly, glaring down at Bart with a dour expression, as if he had been expecting (and dreading) his presence. Bart doesn't physically react with shock or surprise like he usually would, but only glares right back at him.
"Bart, glad you could make it to class..." Skinner greets gravely, however he didn't sound as glad as he claimed. The reason for this was, of course, his now heightened distaste for the boy since he had spewed such rude words at him during detention. Despite this being a whole 7 days ago, Skinner was still stuck onto it.
"Why don't you... Take a seat, hm? We'll be starting class any second from now..." Skinner advises. Bart continues on in, facing forward grimly. Skinner watches him as he enters.
"Hmph... The nerve of that boy..." He murmurs. "He just can't be tamed, can he?"
Bart finds his desk in the same place it's always in: the middle seat in the middle row, smack dab in the middle of the classroom. (Guess that "Bart Simpson Effect" isn't exclusive to Krabappel's room) As we know, right next to said seat sat Milhouse Van Houten. Once Bart reaches his seat, he sits down and faces his desk, clearly not in the mood to converse. However, Milhouse wasn't able to catch the hint of this.
"Hey, Bart! How's it hangin'? I learned that from my cousin!" He tweets, trying his best to sound "cool" with the second sentence.
(A/N: By "cousin" I'm not referring to Annika. Just some random cousin Milhouse happens to have, I suppose.)
Bart give him a desultory wave back, and speaks for the first time in the entire day.
"Hi, Milhouse..." He murmurs incoherently.
"Hey, you wanna see what I got yesterday?" Milhouse asks. He pulls a small stack of something from his pocket and sprawls them all out on his desk. They were baseball cards.
"Baseball cards! Cool, huh?" Milhouse grins at Bart, who doesn't even bother to heed to them. "I got them from a guy off the street, and all he asked for was my dad's credit card information in return!"
He begins listing off a few players that were on the cards. "We've got Derek Jeter, Bryce Harper, Barry Bonds... Ehh.. You can have Mario Mendoza..." He slides the card over to Bart, who doesn't react, or reach for it at all. Milhouse tilts his head.
"Bart, you've been awfully quiet for the past few days. Is something the matter? Cat got your tongue? My neighbor's cat got my tongue once... I had to get it bandaged afterwards and I couldn't eat solid foods for two weeks.." Milhouse says, getting way off-topic. Before Bart is able to muster a reply, the school bell rings, signaling the start of class.
Instantaneously, all of the 4th graders straighten up in their seats and stop whatever they were doing. The students were intimidated enough as it was of Skinner, but after rumor had gotten out about the severe punishment he gave to Bart during last week's detention session, they only cowered at him all the more.
Once the bell cuts off, Skinner arises from him seat and stands in front of the class.
"Good morning, children!" He chimes.
"Good morning, Principal Skinner..." They each mumble in equally halfhearted tones. Except Martin, who speaks in a lively, awake tone with his hands folded on his desk.
"I'm certain you're all looking forward to the weekend, hm?" Skinner asks.
"Oh, yes, Principal Skinner!" Martin chirps. "I'm spending the whole 2 days practicing with my derivatives and hyperbolic trig function! It's sure to be a blast!" His fellow students roll their eyes.
"That's fantastic, Mr. Prince. Anybody else have exciting plans for this weekend?" Skinner queries.
Nelson Muntz speaks. "Me, Jimbo, Kearney, and Dolph are goin' down to the trailer park to chase some squirrels around, maybe a few raccoons, watch 'em squirm, y'know, the usual..."
"Hm... Sounds interesting, Mr. Muntz..." Skinner comments, having no better way to respond to such a strange hobby. "And while I'm sure you all have great weekend plans, mine easily takes the cake. Mother and I are visiting the 'Springfield Museum of Natural History' to see the recently opened Marine Corps exhibit! I wonder what they have, but I guess we're just going to have to wait and SEAL, won't we?" Seymour chuckles at his own pun, while the students stare with lack of interest.
"... Oh, like you guys have anything better going on..." Skinner mumbles. "Besides, I'd rather be at the museum with mother than staying after school to pay the price for my actions..." He shoots Bart a conspicuous glare, as it was clear he was hinting towards him. He clears his throat. "And, erm... Speaking of the weekend, I have a big surprise for you all!"
Bart winces. Skinner's last "big surprise" is what had gotten him to his current depressive state.
"Since today is Friday, I thought we could do a more 'fun' activity this time... How does finger painting sound?"
The students' ears prick up after hearing this. They each form big grins and begin nodding their heads, showing their approval of the activity. (save for Bart, of course) Not only was it much better than cutting sheets of construction paper into turkeys, but it gave them an excuse to get messy in class.
Skinner grins at the student's enthusiasm. "Alright then! Smock up, the finger paints are in the third cabinet." He points towards the long line of cabinets containing art supplies. Each thrilled student rushes towards the drawers and practically begin toppling each other over to get their favorite colors.
Bart follows, once again finding himself at the very back of the herd. By the time he had arrived, everyone had gotten their pick, and only two colors were left: *grey and the bleakest of all blacks.
*(A/N: Just in case you weren't able to catch that reference, it's a small allusion to the short film "The Longest Daycare".)
Bart sighs and takes the two small craft paints to his desk.
10 (or so) Minutes Later...
Just about every student had gotten very invested in their piece. Many of them freely let their fingers dance the "Macarena" on their papers, while more cautious students like Martin performed vigilant, waltzes on theirs. No matter the technique, every student was enjoying themselves. Except... You guessed it.
"Bart! Look at my painting!" Milhouse says, holding his paper towards his unresponsive friend. On his paper were directionless, red paint strokes. "It's supposed to be a dragon, see? Now, I know you may be thinking, 'That doesn't look anything like a dragon', but that's only because... Uh... I'm not finished yet!"
He continues holding it to Bart, eagerly awaiting a response back. When he doesn't receive one, he tries to change the subject.
"So... What are you gonna make with your finger paints? Huh?" Milhouse questions. He takes a look at his two very insipid color choices.
"Hm... You can do a lot with grey and black, y'know?" Milhouse says, holding up the two bottles. "You can make... Uh... You can make a rainbow! Well, a rainbow that's grey and black..." Bart still doesn't give a reply.
"Aw, c'mon, Bart, you used to love finger painting! You'd always dip your fingers in the paint and chase Wendell around till he started puking! What changed?"
Bart doesn't respond, Milhouse frowns.
"Bart, please tell me what's wrong... If you don't talk to me then who else will?" Milhouse asks sympathetically. "And don't say Puppy Goo-Goo, because she's at nana's house right now getting dry cleaned!"
Milhouse continues to await his answer. However, the only thing Bart does in response is give another elongated sigh and exit his seat, immensely confusing his friend.
After getting up, Bart walks past the rows of desks in front of him and to the art room's main desk where Skinner sat. The principal was working on, yet, another one of his war dioramas. This time: the Spanish-American war.
He was using the same pair of tweezers to carefully maneuver through the model, and had even worn a small magnifying eyepiece, similar to that of a watchmaker's. All of his focus had been set on his model, which prevents him from noticing the 10-year old standing directly in front of the desk.
"Mmhm... We'll put the cannon riiiight here... Actually, I think we should back that up a little, maybe move this little guy to the side so he isn't directly in front of it... Now, that wouldn't end very well, would it?" He chuckles a bit at his joke. Bart was beginning to lose his patience.
"Now, how about we tilt this around a bit... Slooowly..." Skinner murmurs. He enhances the lens of his eyepiece to get a better look. Bart tries snapping his fingers to get his attention. This works, but prompts Skinner to accidentally drop his tweezers.
"Doggone it!" He exclaims, slamming his fist on the table. He looks forward and sees Bart, whose fingers were still rested in its "post finger-snapping position". Skinner glowers.
"I should've known..." He mumbles. "What could possibly be so important that it prevents me from continuing my assiduous task, Simpson-"
"I need to use bathroom." Bart replies almost too quickly.
"Pardon?"
"I need to use the bathroom." He repeats. "Can I be excused?"
Skinner is silent for a moment. "... Oh.. Well, sure." Seymour reaches across the desk for a bathroom pass, which he hands to Bart. "But no dawdling! If you aren't back in the next 5 minutes, I'll assume 1 of 2 things: you're trying to get out of class or... You're severely lacking in your fiber intake."
Bart takes the pass from him and walks out the door.
The distance from the art room to the bathroom was severely long, but that didn't Bart a bit. In fact, it worked in his favor. The truth was, he didn't really need to go, but he could stand to burn some time off class, and this was the perfect way how.
He began his slow journey to the boys' restroom in the seemingly empty school hallways. Key word here is: seemingly.
Unbeknownst to him, he wasn't alone, as a very familiar face wasn't too far from him.
Lisa had, too, just exited her own classroom. She held an attendance sheet in her right hand with the intentions of taking it down to the office, possibly for a substitute teacher. She enjoyed doing this, just like many of her other classmates. However, unlike them, it wasn't to have an excuse to leave class.
She quietly hums to herself as she strolls through the soundless hallways, past just about every classroom's door.
"Wow... To think right in this very moment, so many classes are going on. Not just here but all over the world... And each second, someone's learning something new that they can use later in there life... How incredible is that?" She says to herself. The mere aspect of learning amazed Lisa Simpson. Yet another thing that greatly separated her from her brother.
Lisa takes a right and ends up in another part of the hallway. At the end of this one were 2 paths, one leading left and the other leading right. She chooses the one pointing left, knowing it was a shortcut.
Bart is also given two paths, right or left. He chooses to go right. Little did the siblings know, they were entering the same hallway, and with Lisa coming in from one side and Bart coming in from the opposite, they were bound to meet face-to-face.
Lisa takes a look at the attendance sheet she held and examines it.
"Hmm.. This is the 4th day in the row Chuck has been absent... I hope his carpal tunnel surgery is going well..." She says, as she notices the lack of "x's" marking off Chuck's presence. She finds her name and smirks. "Lisa Simpson, once again, you've received perfect attendance! Let's hope it stays that way for the rest of the year."
Lisa puts the sheet back to her side, and when she looks forward, her yellow skin becomes pale once she sees Bart walking towards her. However, Bart didn't realize he was walking up to Lisa. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice her, period.
She had no idea why, but the second she saw him, her first instinct was to sneak into another open hallway and clutch her back onto it to hide from him. Bart must have been very caught up in his feelings to not realize what had just happened, because he just continued walking with his head hanging low.
"What's Bart doing here?!" Lisa asks herself. "Oh, Lisa, what kind of question is that? Of course Bart's here, he goes to this school! Great... Now you're talking to yourself..."
She peeks out of the hallway to see if Bart is still there. Sure enough, he was.
"I just don't get it. Why did I hide? It's not like I'm spying on him... Except..." She looks down at her pocket. The fuchsia antenna of her walkie talkie poked out like it was nobody's business. Lisa sighs.
"Except... I am, aren't I?" Lisa hangs her head down, ridden with guilt. By now, Bart has entered the boys' restroom, and the hallway returns to its previously vacant state. Taking advantage of this opportunity, Lisa takes out the walkie talkie and holds onto its transmission.
"H-Hello?" She stammers.
Meanwhile at home, Marge was in the laundry room, humming whilst she folded and arranged the family's clean clothes into a large hamper. Maggie was there too. The infant had perched herself on top of the currently operating washing machine. It was on its "spin cycle", causing the machine (and Maggie) to vibrate viciously. As usual, Maggie was unfazed by this, and continued to suck on her pacifier.
Marge's walkie talkie sat on top of the clothes dryer. Her humming was put to a halt when she hears her daughter's high-pitched voice coming out of its speaker.
"Hello? Mom?" Lisa repeats with a tad more confidence. "Are you there?"
Frantically, Marge sets down the shirt she was folding, grabs the walkie talkie, rests it under her chin, and continues folding.
"Hello, Pony Whisperer?" Marge responds hopefully. She had figured if Lisa was calling, she had some information about Bart they could use.
Lisa detects this hint of enthusiasm, only making her feel worse about what she was going to say.
"Hi, Mom..." She sullenly replies. Marge squints.
"Lisa, you aren't using my code name. Is there a problem?" Marge asks.
For about 5 seconds, there isn't a sound. Lisa doesn't reply, mainly because she wasn't sure how to.
"Lisa? Honey, are you still there?" Marge asks. "Is this thing broken?" She begins to vigorously shake it up and down to find what the problem was. Of course, there wasn't any problem with the walkie talkie itself. "Lisaaaa? You're still there, right?"
Lisa lets out a long-winded sigh, and asks for the umpteenth time, "Mom... Are you sure about this?"
Marge forms a slight scowl at Lisa's obduracy. "Lisa Marie Simpson! I'm used to you being somewhat obstinate at times, but I've had enough of you second guessing me. I'm your mother, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped asking me that! I'm sure! I'm sure! I'm sure! Are you happy?!"
Lisa's mouth drops open, greatly shocked by her mother's sudden outburst. It wasn't like Marge to let out all of her emotions at once like this, she usually held it back to keep things like this from happening. (As she once said: "You're a woman, you can hold on to it forever.") But all this pent up fury had to come out sometime. Though, this was obviously not the best time for it to do so, as Marge immediately begins to regret what she had said.
Holding back tears, she replies, "Oh, Lisa... Honey, I'm so sorry... I-I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you..." She scratches her blue beehive. "It's just... I really wish you'd trust me more. Do you not trust me...?"
"No! Mom! That's not it at all!" Lisa says, instantly regretting questioning her mother like that. "Mom, you know I'd trust you with my life. But, I just... I feel like I shouldn't be doing this."
"Doing what?"
"Doing this! I shouldn't be following Bart around school like this, it just isn't right."
"But Lisa, we're doing this for a good cause! I just want to help him."
"I know you do. I want to help him just as much as you do... But we shouldn't be going about it like this at all. If we really wanted to help Bart, we'd try and verbally communicate with him. Following him around and taking notes won't solve anything. It's so easy for things to be misinterpreted by just looking at someone for a few seconds. Think about how accurate our results would be if we just sat down with Bart and... Talked to him...?"
Marge doesn't respond for some seconds. She murmurs very quietly as she thinks to herself. "Mmmm..."
Lisa continues. "Mom, I know you mean well, but I'm sure there's a better way-"
Marge cuts in. "It's fine, Lisa, it's fine. You're definitely right... I guess I was being a bit pushy with this plan, huh? I shouldn't have to spy on my special little guy to know what he's going through. I guess I could try talking to him... That is, if he'll talk back."
Lisa nods. "It's great to hear we're on the same page."
"I suppose we can get rid of these silly walkie talkies now, huh?" Marge says through a chuckle.
Lisa slyly smiles. "Now, hold on, Mom." She remarks. "Sure, your plan was pretty strange, but I don't think it was completely fatuous."
Marge tilts her head, completely lost. "Eh?"
"What I'm trying to say is that your original idea still has some potential to work." Lisa explains.
"But, Lisa! I thought we agreed we weren't spying on him anymo-"
"We aren't. I have something else in mind." Lisa says. "How about this: we keep the walkie talkies, but I'm not following Bart around anymore. Maybe I can just... Inform you on what I notice." Lisa suggests.
"Mmm... Fair enough." Marge smiles. "I trust you, Lisa."
"I trust you too, Mom." Lisa responds. "Pony Whi- ... Lisa, signing off."
