Dominance in Despair
Chapter 10
"Crisis"

Marge flipped on the light of her hotel room, slinking in to the room with the last of her strength. Leaning against the door, the door shut under her weight as she held a hand to her brow, her conservative but well-fitting green dress clothes rumpled from the fretting and emotions of events set off only a few hours ago...

"Calling next case on the docket, State v. Simpson. Charge is murder in the first degree."

Marge stood with the rest of the gallery, her blue tower of hair peeking out above the crowd, jerking from side to side as she leaned over the railing to get a look at her son as he was led in.

Bart certainly looked worse for wear in his ratty orange prison jumpsuit. The chains and cuffs attached to his legs and feet clanking above the repetitive clicking of camera shutters.

"Wh...why is he chained up like that?" Marge asked worriedly, turning to the elderly lawyer standing on the other side of the railing.

"Relax Miss. Simpson," the lawyer started in a low whisper. "I was informed Bart was involved in an altercation with another prisoner with a weapon involved." As if to cut off Marge's abject horror, he continued, "He wasn't hurt, but policy requires he be shackled until the investigation is complete and they determine if he acted in self defense."

"Of course he acted in self defense," Marge muttered under her breath, incensed that someone could even suggest her baby could harm another human being, even one as despicable as a prison inmate.

As Bart silently approached the table, he turned and received a reassuring hug from his mother. He didn't even bother to ask where his father was, seeing as his support thus far has been in the form of paying half his legal fees.

Bart stole a look at the prosecutor - and the grief-stricken Indian convenience store clerk behind him - and turned to face the judge as she sat at her podium, her birdlke features unsettling as she leered down at the soon-to-be 14 year old.

"Alright, this evidentiary hearing will come to order. One way or another, after this we are going to trial," the hawkish judge said with no attempt to hide her annoyance, her voice sounding reminiscent of a pastor's wife leering at the sinners in church. "You may be seated..."

The hearing seemed to last forever, the events seeming like a blur in Marge's mind until the gavel's slam on the bench brought her crashing back to reality all over again.

"It is the ruling of this court that enough evidence exists to take this matter to trial. Jury trial shall commence on..."

The words echoed through her mind, her memory failing to register the swarm of reaction from the gathered press, the elation on the other side of the aisle, the empty look on Bart's face as he was lead away...

As she exited the courtroom, Marge collapsed onto a bench, her green hat, familiar to so many Springfield churchgoers, tumbling to the floor as she hugged herself, the worn fabric being crushed under the heel of a passing lawyer.

"Miss Simpson," her lawyer started as he sat down next to her, wiping the sweat from his sagging brow. "About my fees..."

Marge tossed the damaged hat onto the bed, unbuttoning her green overcoat and the first few buttons of her cream colored blouse. She stared out her window, the dim lighting inside the room enhancing the sea of lights that is Capital City outside. She rubbed her red eyes, her makeup streaked where tears had been traveling down her face, as she tried to tried to collect her thoughts in the nighttime cityscape outside her window.

Even if Homer would consider increasing his financial contribution, Marge could never afford the higher fees and keep Lisa and Maggie fed, this much she already knew. She also knew that getting Bart a public defender was akin to sentencing him to a life sentence anyway, or worse.

"I could ask Paul again," she thought. She began to argue with herself at the idea: she was already more indebted to him than she would have liked.

However, as she reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone, she realized... what other choice does she have right now?

"Is this because of your unnaturally large clit?"

Paul chuckled, laying his arms across the back of the couch. This was one of his favorite movies.

Lisa, on the other hand, furrowed her face in confusion. She didn't get what was so great about it. "So, this is what older boys think is funny?"

Paul shrugged. "It's not about age or gender, Lisa. It's just funny."

"Yeah, that's what you said about writing 'Eat Pussy' on the side of a wall too."

Paul groaned. "You just need to learn the intricacies of Kevin Smith's genius."

Lisa sighed and curled up, looking back at the movie. Her school uniform clung to her slightly as she leaned against Paul on the couch, slowly dozing off. The white fabric of her bra peeked out from between the buttons, a fact Paul did not fail to notice...

The phone rang.

Both Paul and Lisa jumped, startled by the noise. Straightening her shirt, Lisa stood and went to answer, Paul refocusing on the movie.

After a few moments, Lisa walked in and offered the phone to Paul, her face twisted in worry. "It's Mom, she wants to talk to you."

Taking the phone, Paul turned the TV off as he pressed it to his ear, Lisa watching on with concern as she heard only half of the conversation.

"Yes?...Uh huh...Oh, I-...Yeah, I can be there in a few hours...Flanders? Alright. Bye."

As he hung up, Lisa looked up to Paul as he stood. "Paul, what's going on?"

"I've been asked to see if the neighbor can watch you and Maggie tonight, then to go see your mom in Capital City."

Lisa nodded, noting that did not involve her or Maggie going as well. "Well, Maggie is sleeping over at a friend's after her Girl Guides meeting tonight..."

"Maggie, we're gonna go see if my mom is around the corner. Can you stay with our stuff?"

Maggie nodded as her friends ran off around the school building. Sitting down on the curb, she adjusted her sash, beaming as she played with the brand new "Plant Lore" badge pinned to it.

Across the street, a balding figure in a trenchcoat saw his chance. Exiting his banged up pink sedan, he approached the young, familiar girl, Maggie not noticing his presence until he was almost on top of her. He reeked of alcohol, and spoke with a slurred voice.

"My baby girl...it's me. It's Daddy...I'm here to take you home."