Chapter 4 – Bring On The Girls

"Oh no, Homie, not another one!" Marge looked up at her yawning husband, distress on her face. "What is it, honey bun?" He opened one eye as he slurped his morning sludge.

"Lenny's wife up and left him, so he married a model named Lola. Very strange." Marge got a intent look in her eyes as she set down the newspaper. "You know this is the tenth re-marriage this month."

"Why's that strange, Marge? Lenny's a good catch; he hasn't blown up anything in at least a month...Hmmm, chocolate." He licked his fingers, then stood up and dried them on the dog's hair, not knowing it was really Lisa's.

"Eeeew, Dad, gross!" She complained, running upstairs to wash her hair.

"What's wrong with her? Oh well, time for work!" Homer air kissed Marge, then straightened his shirt as he went out the door.

"I'm outahere Mom!" Bart dashed through the kitchen, then ended up air running as Marge picked him up by the collar of his shirt.

"Just a minute, Bart. I need your help with something." She held Bart up, then set him down when he sighed and said, "yes, Mom."

"This Gentlemen's Society, I think it's behind all these wives' leaving town, without even saying good bye." Marge told him. "I want you to follow your father tonight and see if there's any hanky panky going on."

"Ah, Mom, all they do is talk. I want to watch Behind The Clown: The Story of Krusty." Bart whined, secretly pleased to be asked to go undercover.

"Bart, something very bad is happening in our town, I think this Society is behind it. You're so smart, son, you could find out what's going on." Marge appealed to her son's vanity, and he took the bait.

"All right, Mom, but if anything fun is happening, don't wait up, okay?" he smirked, then grabbed his school books and ran out the door.

That night Marge watched in amazement as Homer actually changed shirts twice, then refused seconds on dessert, claiming he was "stuffed".

"Oh, Homie, what have they done to you?" she whispered, a tear running down her cheek as she watched him drive away.

"Aw, Mom, don't worry, I'll find out if he's fooling, I mean if he's eating seconds at the meeting." Bart assured her, straightening his trench coat and putting on his spy glasses.

"Thank you, Bart. Now you call home if you run into any trouble." Marge managed a half hug, half-I'm outta here from Bart as he slipped out of the house.

That night, as he followed the men all converging like lemmings on the Gentlemen's Society, Bart marveled at the silly smiles most of the men had on their faces. "Man, I guess that's what you look like in the presence of babes!" he snickered.

Slipping past the lines waiting to enter, Bart skulked around the back of the building, then slipped through an open window. Sneaking around inside, he heard voices, then a roar of laughter.

Peeking through a curtain, he found his father and the others whoo hooing as a buxom woman gyrated on a makeshift stage. "Hubba-Hubba" Bart thought, then noticed a slight squeaking noise every the woman moved.

Suddenly steam came from her back, and abruptly the curtains closed, to the vocal dismay of the audience. As Bart leaned forward to take a look, he saw that the key to the mysterious allure of the club was right in front of him.

"Smithers, quick, the oil can!" Burns voice came from nearby, and panicked, Bart hit behind some boxes as the millionaire and his assistant came forward and hauled away the now vibrating woman.

"Cauwabunga! It's a robot!" Bart realized, then started to come out from his hiding place, only to bump into a tall figure.

"Hello, little boy, what can I do for you?"

Looking up, Bart gulped. Except for the leer in her eyes, it was an exact duplicate of his mom.