Author Notes - Marge's chapters are a little more interesting to write because there's way more to work with. In Homer's chapters, it's mostly just him and his mother, with his father barely doing anything in his life. Meanwhile, with Marge's, there's both her parents and both her sisters. It helps that Selma is my favourite character while I really, really don't like Abe in the flashback scenes.

CHAPTER FOUR - MARGE'S FIRST PLAYDATE

1956... Maybe having a little sister wouldn't be so bad after all.

'Welcome home, sweeties! How was school?'

'Terrible. Want any more old news?'

'No, no. That's all I needed to know!'

Selma rolled her eyes. Ever since the little one got home, Clancy never really seemed too invested to hear about his twins' time at school anymore. Then again, it wasn't like either Selma or Patty could blame him for it. There were only so many times that one could say 'I hate school' before it got old. And it got old years ago. Fourth grade couldn't end soon enough.

'Oh, whatever.' Patty muttered as she threw her bag to the floor. 'I've been told I look like a boy so many times that it's lost all meaning.'

'That's because you look like a boy.' Selma remarked.

This wasn't just a joke meant to tease her slightly-older sister, but the truth. Compared to Selma, who typically wore dresses and skirts of a lovely sky blue colour, Patty much preferred wearing undeniably boyish clothes.

'Oh shut up.'

The red-headed twin headed up the stairs toward the twins' bedroom, while the blonde girl walked into the dining room for that was where her father was. He was reading the newspaper, as usual for him during 'downtime'. Right now, it must've been their mother's turn to take care of little Margie. And, even more usual for him, he was smoking a cigarette. Thinking about it, Selma had a hard time imagining a moment when he wasn't. After so many years of smoke in the air, she had gotten used to the smell.

Clancy, without even turning his head, knew one of his daughters was in the room. 'Well hey there, my little Patricia!'

The young girl sighed. 'Dad, I'm Selma.'

The one man in the house turned his head, and nearly swallowed his cigar when he saw that it was, indeed, the blonde twin looking up at him and not the redhead. And she didn't seem very happy about it.

'Oh, sorry sweetie!' He said, coughing a little. 'Your voices are so similar, it's hard to tell you apart.'

'Even though we have completely different hair colours?'

'Hey, to make up for this little moment of confusion, how about I share one of my cigars with you?'

Selma's eyes widened. Sure, she had seen some kids at her school trying it, but those kids always treated it like it was on the same level as drinking alcohol. The kind of stuff reserved for adults. But if her father was suggesting it, then, surely, it wasn't that bad. To make it all the more alluring, he blew out a large cloud of smoke directly into his daughter's face.

Apparently, she wasn't as used to the smog as she thought she was. Up close and so condensed, it was much more than her lungs could keep up with, and she sneezed so violently that she tumbled backwards and almost fell over.

'Whoa now!' Clancy cried, nearly dropping the lit cigar onto the table as he grabbed her wrist. 'Sounds like you aren't ready for it yet. Don't worry. I'm sure you will be in just a few years.'

She backed away from him and all that smoke. 'I'm sure.'

Unwilling to deal with that smog any longer, she made her way up to her room. Also known as, the one part of the house that hadn't been infiltrated by the new girl yet. Marge was taking over everything, and she only had her first birthday not too long ago. Watching the TV? Nope, Marge wants to watch her own show. Getting a snack? It's Marge's feeding time. It's finally your turn to play with the one doll that your parents bothered to buy for you and your twin? Looks like Marge wants to play with it now!

And the one time that Marge wasn't taking over Selma's life...

'HEY! That's my dollhouse!'

It was Patty instead. The redheaded girl had apparently decided that today, it was her turn to play with the dollhouse. And, like every other toy they had, there was only one of it. Selma couldn't understand how her parents could have twins and yet only have enough toys for one kid, and only have enough for two when a third came around.

'You know what Mom said.' Patty said, speaking like she wasn't any happier with the situation. 'We gotta share everything. It's my turn to play with this now.'

'You don't even like playing with dolls!'

'Yeah, well, I'm not allowed to have any cars because they're 'boy toys' apparently, so I'm just pretending that Malibu here is a racecar. You okay with that?'

True to her word, Patty had twisted Malibu's legs around so she looked like a quadruped while dragging the doll's hands across the carpet. Selma didn't even have it in her to fight over Malibu today; they had broken enough dolls over that. Now, she had learnt a new trick to get her way.

'MOM!' She yelled. 'Patty's messing with my dolls again!'

Usually, at that point, it'd be a 50/50 between 'Patty, let your sister play with her dolls' or 'Selma, wait your turn'. Except this time, neither happened. In fact, she didn't get a response at all. With a groan, she made her way over to her mother's room.

'MOM!' She yelled again, just a little less loud, as she opened the door. 'Patty's messing with my-!'

'SHHH!'

It didn't take long for Selma to realise why her mother hadn't done anything. Jacqueline held baby Margie in her arms, gently rocking her back and forth while sitting on the bed. The little girl was fast asleep, and not even the yells of her sister woke her up.

'Welcome home, Selma.' Jacqueline said, her voice barely above a whisper. 'You don't seem especially busy right now. I need to have a talk with your father, but I need someone to take care of the little one. I'm sure you'll do a good job while I'm gone.'

'Wait, what?'

Before Selma could realise what was going on, Jacqueline stood up from the bed and handed Marge over to her. She made sure that the young girl was holding the baby right before letting go, and the blonde child made the face of someone who had been handed a bomb.

'Wait, Mom.' She tried to plead. 'I didn't-'

Jacqueline chuckled. 'Oh, don't worry. I'm sure you'll be fine. And I'll be back in a few minutes anyway. She's a little sleepy, so you can probably just put her in her crib.'

Without explaining anything further, Jacqueline left the room with her nine-year-old daughter in charge of the baby. Selma was so shocked that she couldn't plea any further. It took her a few seconds to fully realise the situation she was in.

'Oh, you have got to be kidding me...'

Great. So her older sister was playing with her toys, and now she was in charge of her baby sister. As was the life of the middle child, it seemed. With a sigh, she looked down at the little girl in her arms. Why did Marge seem so much cuter like this? Selma's grip on her tightened ever so slightly, like she was actually worried she might drop her.

'You're a lot cuter when you're asleep. You're less whiny that way.'

She caught sight of Marge's crib by the wall. Well, Jacqueline did say she could just put the baby in her crib. Maybe that way, Selma could find something else to do. Holding Marge tightly, she walked over to the crib and gently set the little one down.

'Here ya go.'

Selma looked down at her baby sister with a small smile on her face, which is a series of words she never expected to be described with. Somehow, the annoying little twit looked so much cuter when she was asleep, lying in her special little bed.

'Looks like I'm done here.'

Figuring that her mother wouldn't mind if she left the baby alone, Selma headed for the door. Shame too, because if she stayed behind for just a moment she would've seen that Marge didn't stay asleep for very long. Her eyes opened slowly, and she looked around the room with a yawn.

'Ma? Ma-ma?'

Selma stopped in her tracks before she could even leave the room.

'Ma-ma!'

She spun around and saw the baby Marge standing up in her crib. Her big hazel eyes stared at Selma, in a way that seemed almost pleading.

'What do you want?'

'Ma-ma! Ma-ma!'

Selma rolled her eyes. 'Oh. Of course. You want 'Mama'. Well, I'd hate ta break it to you, but Mama's a little busy right now.'

Despite being the truth, Marge didn't listen. Her cries for 'Mama' only got worse when Selma turned around and stepped out the door.

'MA-MA! MA-MA!'

The blonde groaned. 'Okay! I'll go get Mama for you! So stop crying.'

Her words did not make the situation any better. If anything, they made it worse. Marge's cries turned to wails, loud enough for the whole house to hear. Patty yelled from down the hall, but Selma couldn't hear her over Marge's crying. Not even her 'I want food' cries were this bad.

'Oh my god, I'm getting Mama right now!' Selma yelled back.

With her teeth gritted, she spun around and headed out the door. If she was lucky, her mother would be in the kitchen with her father. She did not feel like searching for Jacqueline with a crying baby in the house. She was about ready to storm all the way down the stairs, when something made her stop. And, with how determined she was to end this mess, that was quite the accomplishment.

'El-ma!'

It was enough to get Selma to not only stop, but turn back around in an instant.

'W-Wait, did you just...?'

'El-ma! EL-MA!'

It was at that moment that she realised that Marge wasn't calling for 'Mama', even to begin with. And her next action surprised even herself.

'I-It's okay, Marge! Your big sister is here.'

If you asked her why her tune had changed so suddenly, she wouldn't be able to tell you. It was as if hearing her baby sister calling out her name awakened some sort of maternal instinct within her. She ran back over to the crib, and lifted her little sister into her arms. And that was all it took. Once Marge was in the warm arms of her big sister, her crying quieted down until it stopped in just a matter of seconds.

'El-ma?'

Selma's heart nearly stopped. What the hell was going on with her? It didn't just feel like she was holding her baby sister, but her own daughter, as bizarre as that sentiment sounded. She held onto Marge tighter, as if someone or something was about to show up and steal her away.

'Don't tell Patty I did this. It'll give her an actual reason to make fun of me.'

'El-ma! El-ma!'

The blonde girl chuckled. 'You don't have to call me by name, or whatever you're trying to do. You can just call me 'big sister', okay?'

Marge smiled. 'Is-der! Is-der!'

'That's... close enough, I guess.'

Of course, the nine-year-old girl who mostly viewed babies as an annoyance had no idea how to properly take care of one. Still, she was comfortable to just cuddle her for now. She sat herself down on her father's side of the bed, obvious by the full ashtray on the bedside table.

'You're more fun to be around than Patty. I'll give ya that.'

Marge adopted a more annoyed look, rather akin to one that a mother would give a misbehaving child.

'What? Oh, are you annoyed cos I insulted Big Sister Patty? You don't get to say anything until you share a room with her.'

'Men! Men!'

Selma blinked a couple times. 'Uh... what? I know Patty looks like a boy, but I certainly don't. Oh, wait. You're trying to say 'mean', huh? Hey, she's older than me. By, like, three minutes, but still. I get to make fun of her. You do too.' She glanced around the room, and sighed. 'Hey, I know. How about we go find Mama, huh? Get away from our big sister so we can have more fun to ourselves, hm?'

Though little Marge didn't seem any more approving of the 'Patty hate', she giggled as the prospect of seeing Mama again. Taking that as a 'yes', Selma carefully got to her feet while holding onto her baby sister tighter than ever. She kept Margie close as she walked down the stairs, taking each step slowly and with care. When she got to the halfway point, a question came to her mind.

'You think I'd make a good mother?'

Marge smiled. 'Good mama! El-ma make good mama!'

'Wow. I didn't expect that. If I asked Patty the same question, I'd be lucky if she just laughed at me.'

By the time Selma reached the bottom of the stairs, she could hear her parents discussing something in the dining room. She peered around the corner, and immediately knew that something was wrong when there was far less smoke in the air.

'What's there to be worried about?' Clancy asked, leaning back in his chair and smiling. 'I'm sure it's just a stage. She'll stop it soon. In the meantime, you should just buy her those car toys that she wants.'

Jacqueline crossed her arms. 'Clancy, you don't understand. Things like this aren't just a 'stage'. She hasn't stopped demanding for toy cars or hammers since she was three.'

Selma held Marge just a little bit closer; she knew exactly who they were talking about. Though Marge barely understood the situation, she knew it wasn't good. She could sense the uneasiness emanating from the more girly twin.

'She's going down a bad path.' Jacqueline continued. 'I mean, just look at the way she dresses. Next thing you know, she'll be buying Playboy magazines for herself. Let's not mince words here. She's going to become...' She winced. 'One of them.'

'Darling,' Clancy said. 'She hasn't even got her first period yet. There's still time for her to change.'

'We can't take any chances. We have to do something about it before she goes down that path. If only she was more like Selma...'

The child in question gasped, just quietly enough that her parents didn't hear her. She backed away from the dining room, and headed back up the stairs. Wherever that conversation was going, she didn't want to be a part of it.

'Is-der?'

Selma frowned. 'We... won't be seeing Mama again for a little while. I don't know what she's talking about, but...' She sighed. 'I don't like it.'

Author Notes - See, part of the reason why I've declared Selma as my favourite is her desire to become a mother, one that I share with her. Consider that she was so determined to be a mother that she went to China to adopt. She's also worried about dying alone, which I, uh... look, I'm okay and you don't need to worry.

Writing the scenes involving Clancy and his casual smoking makes me a little uncomfortable. This story does take place before anyone knew just how dangerous smoking could be, hence why Chapter Two had him smoking in a hospital, but it still makes me feel wrong. Especially when it's around his own daughters. But I gotta establish it for... future purposes.

I know what you're thinking. I made the lesbian a tomboy. Okay, let me make one thing clear. I am NOT saying that tomboy equals lesbian. It's just that 'There's Something About Marrying' implied that Patty was a bit of a tomboy in her childhood, or at the very least wore boyish clothes. I'm just sticking to canon here. Also it helps me when giving her a different personality to her twin, which is a priority for me. Also, I'm trying to address the stereotype and why it can be very harmful, whether that tomboy is a lesbian or not.