Well, here it is guys.
The chapter I have been waiting to write since the day I thought of it. Which, now that I think about it, was about a week ago.
But I warn you. Those who have an emotional attachment to any of these characters should either come out of this window now, or bear the horror that lies ahead.
By the way, for those of you who noticed the "Piggy" and "pooopooopooo"m on the last chapter, that was my mega-pests of siblings. My dad is trying to think of a fitting punishment for them. I have edited it, so you won't see it anymore.
And by the way, you may recall some of this scene from one of my earlier chapters. Spot the difference! (You don't have to, it was just a suggestion)
And by the way, there is a poll on my profile. We've seen the sparks fly between Rosebud and Kyle, and the beginning of them between Rosebud and Cartman. But who would YOU rather Rosebud end up with? Would you like the sweet smell of sassy-Jewish (ish) love in the air, or would you prefer her to be partner in crime with Cartman? Or maybe you want her to be a single-pringle? You decide!
Disclaimer: I no own Simpsons, South Park, Rosebud or the lyrics to the song in this chapter. The name Sarah is something i came up with at the top of my head. She is not actually a character in the Simpsons or South Park
By the way, the song in this chapter is called "Eighteen" by Ed Sheeran. I suggest you play it in the background while you read the lyrics :D. Enjoy!
For Bart, the week could not have been worse.
Besides not being the school bad-boy anymore, he had to face the additional humiliation of having a mother for an art teacher. Nobody took him seriously anymore. He was a laughing stock.
That was why he faked a headache and stayed home. Lisa would bring home his homework (unfortunately) and Marge would fill him in on what he had missed. Meanwhile, Homer was looking after him.
And the nightmare began.
Bart looked at his digital clock. It read 11.49. Now Lisa was at school, this was the perfect time to strike. But he didn't move. He was done with Lisa's secrets. If she wanted to keep something from him, that was her problem. He kept plenty of things from her.
He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he wasn't in his bed. He was floating in space. All around him there were the faces of his friends, family... and Cartman.
They were saying things like, "Stupid!", "Momma's Boy!" and "Attention Seeker!". Bart hid his face in his hands and tried to block out the sounds, but even though he tried in vain, the sounds kept getting louder and louder...
Until he heard Homer at the door.
'Boy, you've been in there for ages. You want to go to Krustyburger?'
Bart rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked at the clock. 13.18. The dream seemed to have lasted a lot longer than that.
'Uh, no thanks, Homer. I still don't feel too good. Maybe later.' he said.
'Oh. Well, thats okay, cuz I already went. You missed out. Sorry boy!' There were chewing sounds coming from outside Bart's bedroom door. And if he wasn't mistaken, Homer was eating a Clogger. Twelve pounds of artery-cloggin' goodness.
Bart heard Homer "Mmmm" in appreciation, and finally leave. He sighed, and got out of his bed. He strolled around the now familiar room, flicking his old toys and sighing at his ripped Itchy and Scratchy poster. He recalled a... ahem... conversation he had with a certain fat psychopath the day before.
-Flashback-
Bart ran out of the class as soon as class finished. He heard his mother's shouts from behind him, but he didn't turn around. He streaked along the hall, ran to his locker and dug out an Itchy and Scratchy comic. He slammed his locker door shut, pushed past a group of giggling girls and ran to the swing set. There, he slumped, opened his comic and began reading, trying to catch his breath.
But, no sooner had he arrived, a huge shadow cast over him. He looked up, and saw the grotesquely large silhouette of none other than Eric Cartman. He frowned down at him and knocked the comic out of Bart's hands.
'What the hell, man!' said Bart, P.O-ed. He bent over to pick it up, and Cartman pushed him onto the ground. Bart cried out in pain, and a few people looked around.
Cartman picked up Bart's comic and sneered at the cover.
'What the hell is Itchy and Scratchy?' he demanded, flicking through the pages.
Bart jumped up and snatched the comic back.
'It was the most popular kid's cartoon back in Springfield. Not that Lawrence and Perry stuff you watch.'
'Terrance and Phillip!' corrected Cartman. He looked at Bart with the utmost disgust. 'You know, I used to think you were a fiesty little kid, but now even your baby sister is cooler than you!' He motioned to the corner of the playground, where Lisa, Stan, Kyle, Kenny and Butters were huddled, cheering.
'Well, if that's the case, I'm glad. Lisa is hangin' out with people who actually like her. When those guys were around you, all you did was rip on them. They hated ya.'
Cartman's already fat face seemed to swell with anger, and go scarlet.
'That's not true! They worshipped me!' he yelled. He advanced towards Bart, and pushed him over. Bart just looked at Cartman. Cartman was poised, fists up, flabby legs apart. For a second, Bart felt sorry for him. If this was how he made himself cool, (and it didn't seem to be working) he really was the scum that Bart thought he was.
So he just got up and walked away.
-End of Flashback-
Bart could've kicked himself for not teaching Cartman a lesson.
After school...
Stan and Lisa walked into the cafe. Lisa had specifically chosen this one, as it was quiet and clean, the perfect place for studying.
Stan went to get some green tea, and Lisa carried both their books to a corner table. She sat down and pulled out her equipment, and began to study.
Stan came back with the tea and sat opposite Lisa. He didn't open his books, but bit his nails. He looked around the cafe. And elderly woman and two builders were then only ones in the small cafe. He glanced at Lisa, who was buried in her books. She looked up at Stan and smiled. He gave a weak smile back. Lisa looked back at her books and took a sip of her tea.
This continued for a few minutes. Finally, Stan cracked.
'Lisa, there's something I need to talk to you about.' he said. Lisa looked up from her books and gave him a quizical look. 'Yes, Stan?'
'Uh...' said Stan. He scratched the back of his neck. 'I've noticed how... close we've become over the past few weeks. And, the... little things you've hinted.'
'I don't get you. What are you trying to say?' asked Lisa, closing her book on Great Women in History.
'Well, you seem to think that I...' Stan let his voice trail off.
'Stan,' said Lisa. She reached over the boiling hot cups of tea and held his hand. 'You know you can tell me anything. What's wrong?'
Stan sighed and released his hands.
'There was a girl. Her name was Sarah. I met her two days ago at the book convention.'
Lisa straightened up. She was trying to remain strong, but Stan sensed the upset in her voice. 'The book convention you said you couldn't attend. The one you "couldn't" attend because your Grandma's birthday was on the same day.'
'Yeah...'
'And?'
'And what?'
'This Sarah. She was obviously more interesting than me. What did she have that I didn't? A huge house? Perfect complexion? No braces?'
'No!' said Stan. 'Lisa, listen. I've seen these hints you're giving me. The "meet-me" notes, the secret smiles, the sudden interest in football. I know now.'
Lisa felt like she was floating.
'I just don't feel the same way.'
These words hit Lisa like a tidal wave. She felt a lump in her throat and her eyes stung. She couldn't stop the tears coming.
'Listen. You're a great girl. Smart, pretty, funny. I just don't think I'm the one for you.'
'And this "Sarah" is? She's the one?' cried Lisa.
'Lisa! I've known Sarah for years! Since kindergarten. We were inseperable. Then she moved to Seattle. We wrote a few times, but its like always, isn't it? A friend moves away, and you think you can make it work. But it's never the same. '
'I know.' said Lisa. 'I know...'
'But when I saw her at the convention, it felt like a piece of my heart was back in its place. We talked, and I found out that she had a boyfriend. Gary, his name was. He lived next door to her-'
'Yes, yes, Stan!' cried Lisa. 'Spare me the details! All I want to know is... do you love her?'
Stan bowed his head. For a nanosecond it reminded Lisa of Bart being caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Finally, Stan said, 'I never stopped.'
Lisa got up, knocking her chair over in the process and spilling her tea. She collected up her books and said, 'Well, at least now I know where I stand in this situation.' Without looking back, she ran out of the cafe.
3 hours later...
Stan sat in his room with his trusty old guitar. He plucked the notes for a while, and started on a song he'd known for a while.
White lips, pale face
Breathing in the snowflakes
Burnt lungs, sour taste
Light's gone, day's end
Struggling to pay rent
Long nights, strange men
And they say she's in the Class A Team
Stuck in her daydream
Been this way since eighteen
But lately her face seems
Slowly sinking, wasting
Crumbling like pastries
And they scream
The worst things in life come free to us
Cos we're just under the upper hand
And go mad for a couple grams
And she don't want to go outside tonight
And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland
Or sells love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
Angels to fly
Ripped gloves, raincoat
Tried to swim and stay afloat
Dry house, wet clothes
Loose change, bank notes
Weary-eyed, dry throat
Call girl, no phone
And they say she's in the Class A Team
Stuck in her daydream
Been this way since eighteen
But lately her face seems
Slowly sinking, wasting
Crumbling like pastries
And they scream
The worst things in life come free to us
Cos we're just under the upper hand
And go mad for a couple grams
And she don't want to go outside tonight
And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland
Or sells love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
An angel will die
Covered in white
Closed eye
Hope for a better life
This time, we'll fade out tonight
Straight down the line
And they say she's in the Class A Team
Stuck in her daydream
Been this way since eighteen
But lately her face seems
Slowly sinking, wasting
Crumbling like pastries
And they scream
The worst things in life come free to us
And we're all under the upper hand
And go mad for a couple grams
And we don't want to go outside tonight
And in a pipe we fly to the Motherland
Or sells love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
Angels to fly
To fly, fly
Angels to fly
To fly, to fly
Or angels to die
He felt a tear run down his cheek as he hit the last note, which died away as the salty droplet hit the oak of his guitar.
Meanwhile, at the Simpsons...
Bart played his music. Nothin' like a good beat of heavy metal to drown away his-
He heard a scream.
He ran out of his room, down the stairs and out the back door.
She was there. Lying motionless at the foot of his treehouse.
He was there. So were the girls he'd run past that morning.
He ran to her. Her innocent little face stared up at him. Her beautiful brown eyes were closed.
They backed away, breathing rapidly. Their backing-away turned to running.
Lisa stayed motionless, barely alive.