Author Notes - I'm gonna be working with some rather intense themes later on, and I wanna make sure I'm getting them right without being patronising. A good example will inevitably be Patty dealing with homophobia, thanks to the time era being less accepting of homosexuality. And virtue-signalling is RIGHT out; I ain't doing this just to get praised. If that was the case, I'd kill half the cast off.

Speaking of which, I'll only be killing off characters who are dead in the canon of the show. I am willing to make just ONE exception if I think it's a good idea for the story I'm telling, but I will NOT be doing it more than once. MAAAYBE twice if my hand is forced. I'm saying this cos I don't wanna force any drama or angst, and unnecessarily killing off a character is a good way of forcing angst in your face.

CHAPTER THREE - HOMER'S FIRST WORD

1956... Abe thought there was something wrong with his son, and Mona didn't realise that he may have been slightly correct.

Mona had to admit, she was worried about how little Homie would take his new home.

'And this is where you'll be sleeping for now, right by my side of the bed so I can dream about you.'

But her fears turned out to be entirely unfounded. The little guy crawled around the place like it was his playground, and with the fifty-million dangerous objects out of sight he could do whatever he wanted. After a Christmas that was just between the three of them - though it felt like the two of them with how little Abe got himself involved - Mona decided to invite much more of the family over to celebrate Homie's first birthday. Shame the only one who bothered to come was her brother with his newly-born son Frank. Still, it was a fun birthday regardless.

And, about five months after that, Mona began to get worried again...

'Say, Mama!'

'...'

'I'm your mama, Homer! Saaay... Mama!'

'...'

Mona sighed.

For the most part, little Homer had adapted to life on the farm. He spent most of his time inside, watching the old black-and-white TV while caring none for its lacklustre content or reception. Sometimes, Mona would carry him outside and introduce him to the cows. She didn't let him get too close to them though, lest he try to drink their milk again. He even seemed to love his dusty old new home, if only because he didn't know what other (and better) houses looked like.

The concerns came from another area.

Abe groaned. 'Are you still trying?'

Mona rolled her eyes, as usual. 'Yes, of course I am.'

She had her adorable young son sat in a high chair, which he didn't seem to have much of a problem with. The little guy always smiled unless he was really unhappy, so Mona could never be sure just how happy he was, but he wasn't crying so it couldn't have been that bad for him.

'Say, Mama!'

Homer didn't even look at her, preferring to look around just about everywhere else instead. Most of his attention focused on the cupboards and the fridge, but he didn't point at them or mention anything. All he did was stare with a smile on his face.

Mona turned to her husband. 'You can do more than make comments. You know that, right?'

Abe was seemingly in 'ignore that I have a son' mode, perching himself in front of that crappy old TV. Unfortunately for him, the only things on were those old Itchy shorts. Since the titular cartoon mouse hadn't been used in anything since '53, being overshadowed by the other characters, all they could do was air reruns of the same shorts they have been showing for decades. He couldn't believe they were still presenting Steamboat Itchy like it was a groundbreaking creation. So what it was the first animated short with synchronised sound? It was still just a stupid cartoon.

'What's the point?' He yelled back, hardly budging from his spot. 'The kid's nearly a year and a half old, and he hasn't said a word!'

'Now Abe, that isn't-'

'He can't even walk! Hell, he can barely crawl. I don't know what you did while you were pregnant with him, but something must've gone wrong.'

Mona didn't even dignify that with a response. She just pretended her husband was still herding the cows outside and not bugging her from the living room.

'Can you say, Mama, Homie?' She asked her son with a soft tone. 'Say... Mama!'

She wasn't certain if he was even still listening to her at this point. If she didn't know any better, she'd think he was in a completely different world to hers. She figured that, in reality, he was just so enamored with the world around him that he couldn't pay any attention to his mother. With another sigh, she pulled out a chair from the nearby dining table and took a seat. As much as she didn't want to admit it, Abe's words were indeed getting to her.

'Homer,' She said. 'Look at me.' Nothing.

After all, he wasn't wrong.

Homer was hitting the milestones later than he should've been. Sure, all babies hit those milestones at different times, but Homer had missed most of them by now. He hadn't even begun walking, still crawling all over the place. He hadn't said his first word, or even made cooing sounds half the time. Rarely did it seem like he was responding to his mother's words, and today was no exception.

'It's okay, Homie. You can take as long as you need.'

She tapped her fingers together in anticipation for whatever he might do. Though she wouldn't tell Abe in fear of the inevitable 'I told you so', she struggled to keep her fears and worries at bay.

What if he never learns to speak? What if he never learns to walk? I know I'd love him no matter what, but what if he's...?

She didn't want to think about the possibility. Of course, she would adore him no matter what, even if he was... she wasn't certain what the best word was.

'Just face it, Mona!' Abe yelled. 'Our son's a r-!'

'ABE!'

Mona clenched her fists. The only reason she didn't stomp into the living room and yell directly in his face was because she was occupied with her son. At this point, Homer really was her son and not their son, and if that was the kind of language Abe was going to use she much preferred it that way.

'Well, I suppose it isn't really your fault.' Abe half-heartedly admitted. 'That Simpsons gene is just hitting him super early. That happened to old Gaston.'

Mona groaned. 'Oh Abe, you know that the 'Simpsons gene' was just a lie invented so the Simpsons men could have an excuse to be lazy and force their wives to do everything. Something like the 'Simpsons gene' isn't even scientifically possible! Gene that only affects the Y chromosome my foot...'

If she had to hear that 'Simpsons gene' excuse one more time, she would break something. Homer hadn't paid any attention to the discussion, and just lightly slammed his palms against the chair tray like it was a drum.

'Come on, Homie...' Mona said. 'I just know that you'll talk one day. Take your time, sweetie. There's nothing wrong with being late to the milestones.'

He continued staring at the cupboards, tapping his palms some more and making murmuring sounds that Mona could only guess were happy ones.

I didn't do anything wrong... did I?

Like always, Homer seemed to be in his own little world. Mona sighed, and decided that perhaps this was the time to stop. Since Homer seemed to like playing the tray like a drum, she figured that he would be fine there. She got up, turned on the kettle, and fetched a new box of coffee from the cupboard.

'Given up, huh?' Abe snarked, without even looking away from the TV.

At the very least, Mona had learned how to zone out her husband's nonsense. The whistling of the kettle certainly helped with that. As she waited for the water to boil, she stared out the window and at her crops. That land used to be so fertile, but now it could barely grow anything at all. It was just enough for them to live on, and that was including the money they made off the cows' milk.

Once the whistling of the kettle stopped, she poured out some boiling water into her favourite mug. Mixing in the correct amount of coffee beans and milk, she picked up a spoon and began to stir. As she mixed the ingredients together for her preferred cup of coffee, her mind wandered.

I swear... I did everything right. I didn't drink. I didn't smoke. I did some exercise when I could. Why is Homer developing so late?

She glanced back at her son for a moment. His beat against the tray sped up a lot, and got much louder too. Mona couldn't tell if he was asking for attention or just wanted to make some noise.

'BE QUIET UP THERE, HOMER!' Abe yelled. 'I'm trying to watch my TV!'

Have I been too nice? No... that can't be right. I'm doing much more for him than Abe ever will. Did Abe do something to him when I wasn't looking? Nah, he just pretends Homer doesn't exist. Is it the stuff I've been feeding him?

Mona ran about fifty other possibilities through her head. Some might see it as failing to accept reality, but others may instead see a mother desperate for answers. Homer's beats infiltrated her thoughts. You'd think it just make her more stressed, but the sounds generated by her darling child managed to calm her nerves just slightly.

'Food!'

And that ruined it all. Rolling her eyes, she didn't even bother turning around to look at her husband.

'Abe, you're capable of getting your own food.' She said with a sigh. 'You know that. In fact, you get your own food often.'

Abe looked away from his screen for just a moment. 'What are ya talking about? If I want food, I'll get it myself!'

'Wait, then who...?'

She gasped. Her spoon fell out of her hand and clinked against the floor, but she was too shocked to notice that or the coffee getting everywhere. Did... did she hear that right? To confirm that she wasn't just hearing things, she put her mug of coffee aside and ran straight to her son.

'Homer, did you just-?'

He slammed his fists on the tray. 'Food! FOOD!'

The joy of hearing her son for the first time overwhelmed Mona so much...

*THUD*

... that she fainted onto the floor.

Abe jumped to his feet in alarm. 'Mona! Sweetie? Are you okay?!'

Fortunately, by the time he rushed into the kitchen to check up on her, she was already conscious again. How could she stay unconscious during such an amazing moment? She got to her feet in seconds, ignoring the concerned and worried questions from Abe. Homer's bashing of the tray just got faster and faster.

'Food! Food! FOOD!'

Mona could feel her eyes beginning to sting, and for once it was out of joy. He shouted out this singular word like he wanted the world to hear him. He pronounced that final 'duh' sound like he had been training his whole life for it.

'Oh, Homer!' Mona cried, leaping into a mother-son embrace. 'I knew you could do it!'

'FOOD!'

Her eyes widened, and she stepped back a bit. 'Oh, you want food. Of course. I'll fix you up a little extra to celebrate this wonderful milestone!'

With an extra skip her step, she rushed back into the kitchen and grabbed two servings worth of Homer's favourite strawberry-flavoured food, for just one serving wasn't worthy of such a big moment. The smile on his face grew when he smelled his food being prepared.

Abe stared his son down. 'Heh. 'Bout time.'

'Why am I surprised?' Mona remarked as she mixed up Homer's food. 'I should've known you'd find a way to make this unpleasant.'

'There's something wrong with that boy, Mona. I don't know what it is, but he's not right.'

Abe clicked his fingers right by Homer's face, but the little guy did not look his way or respond at all. He just kept banging his palms on the tray, building himself up for his food delivery.

'That's preposterous, Abe.' Mona said, carrying the food over.

'Think about it. When was the last time he looked you in the eye?'

She paused for a moment. 'Oh, that doesn't matter. It took even Einstein a few years to talk.'

'He doesn't point. He doesn't wave. It took him too long to say his first word.'

Mona glared right at him. 'That is not a concern. Our little Homie is just a late bloomer. That is all.'

Abe just shrugged, before returning to his spot in front of the TV. 'Don't come crying back to me when it turns out that I'm right.'

Like always, it was Mona's job to feed him. With each spoonful of that creamy stuff, Homer looked more and more elated.

'Food!' He cried with joy. 'Food, Mama, food!'

Mona gasped. Two words in one day? She didn't care how long it took him to get to this point; she was proud of her Homie all the same.

'I bet you've been learning words this whole time, haven't you?' She asked with a giggle. 'Don't listen to your father. I know you're a brainy kid.'

Homer went through his food even faster than usual, demanding for more after every gulp, and Mona was glad to give him what he wanted. For the most part, she could not have been any happier than she was at that moment. At the same time, a horrible thought nagged at her.

What if Abe is right?

Author Notes - Homer's first word was 'food' because not only did it seem appropriate for him, but it helps demonstrate that this story isn't afraid to get a little more silly and comedic.

DISCLAIMER: Abe's opinions on the beautiful Mickey Mouse short 'Steamboat Willie' certainly do not match my own. I just felt like flexing my intense knowledge of Disney cartoons for a moment, okay? It is quite funny to me, cos animal cruelty was used as a joke fairly often in those olden Mickey shorts. The intense violence of Itchy and Scratchy isn't too far off, albeit the real cartoons are obviously not nearly as gorey.

If it's not obvious what it is I'm doing with Homer in this story, I'm not gonna tell you. You get to figure that out on your own before I reveal it in the story itself. The problem is... I don't know if I want to reveal it in Homer's childhood or his adulthood.

Also I f*ing hated 'Lisa the Simpson' and the entire 'Simpsons gene' bullcrap. That wasn't at all obvious, I'm sure.