When Burns and Smithers entered room 338, they were treated to an odd scene. Homer and Marge seemed to be struggling over a cup of water as Lisa looked on, and a small Asian girl with white pajamas and splotched skin lay helplessly on a bed.
All eyes turned to face the scowling industrialist. "Er, hello, Mr. Burns," said Lisa with a nervous chuckle.
"Simpson!" Burns bellowed at his employee while gesturing at Lisa. "This child doesn't have a burn mark on her body."
"Uh, I can explain," said Homer sheepishly. "Is Tuesday good?"
Burns, with Smithers in tow, walked up to the foot of Bart-chan's bed. "Here lies the real burn victim," he said, apparently intrigued at the sight of the girl's injuries. "Who is she, Simpson?"
Homer, Marge, and Lisa stared ignorantly at him. Maggie sucked idly on her pacifier.
Finally Homer broke the tense silence. "Her name is Ping."
Bart-chan groaned in disgust. "Oh, Dad..."
"Good heavens," Burns marveled. "She called you father."
"Uh, yeah," said Homer, thinking as quickly as he could. "I am her father. Her...adoptive father."
Burns and Smithers both peered suspiciously at him.
Then Marge stepped forward. "While we were in China helping my sister to adopt a baby, we met a cute little orphan girl. She was so irresistible, we just had to bring her home with us."
"I learn speak English from missionaries," Bart-chan babbled facetiously.
"I see," said Burns. "But that doesn't explain why you claimed that Lisa was involved in the accident, and not Ping."
Homer lowered his head in shame. "We...we were afraid the company health plan wouldn't cover her."
"Oh, fiddle-faddle," said Burns. "The plant's benefits are second to none."
"More like second to last," Smithers remarked.
"Shut up, Smithers."
"Yes, sir."
Burns pressed a wiry finger on Bart-chan's cheek. "I confess I walked into this hospital room with the intention of firing you," he told Homer. "But seeing this angelic child in such tragic straits has weakened my resolve."
Homer, Marge, and Lisa sighed in unison.
"But in return for my leniency, I want three things from you," Burns continued. "First, report to the benefits office and tell them what you told me. Second, present me with a copy of Ping's certificate of adoption. Third, as soon as your little Chinese princess regains her health, you will bring her to the plant so that your co-workers can bask in her warm glow."
"Sir, 'warm glow' may not be the most appropriate choice of words under the circumstances."
"Shut up, Smithers."
"Thanks, Mr. Burns," said Homer. "And Ping thanks you, too."
"No, she doesn't," Bart-chan grumbled under her breath.
A pall fell over the room after Burns and Smithers departed. The Simpsons weren't certain whether they had just been spared or doomed.
"You should've used the water on me, Dad," said Bart-chan bitterly. "Now we're in even deeper crap."
"Don't worry, son," said Homer. "Burns hasn't asked too much. All we have to do is make a copy of Selma's certificate of adoption, and change the letter L to a letter P. You gotta love those Chinese names, they're so convenient."
"Dad..." Bart-chan started to say, but became too weary to continue.
Lisa spoke up for her. "Dad, Bart will be humiliated if you take him to work and pass him off as your daughter."
"And it won't stop there," added Marge. "Once word gets out, all of our friends will want to meet Ping. What will they think when she suddenly ceases to exist?"
"Uh, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," said Homer.
"We've come to it," Marge informed him.
"Oh, goody!" said Homer with glee. "Can I throw stuff over the side?"
"Wait a minute," said Lisa with sudden insight. "We've been operating under the assumption that no one else can know about the curse. But once Bart gets better, we can show everyone what happened to us, and they'll understand."
"Uh, Lisa," said Homer, "have you ever heard of an invention called the water balloon?"
Lisa shuddered. "I, er, retract my last statement."
"The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one I'd been searching for."
"Well, now you've found me. What are you going to do about it?"
Bart-chan watched wistfully as the attractive couple kissed on a park bench, framed by the Manhattan skyline at night. They don't seem worried about cooties at all, she thought. Maybe cooties are something parents made up to discourage kids from kissing. They seem so happy...especially the woman...
"Hey, Bart," said Lisa, walking into the hospital room ahead of her parents. "How ya feeling?"
"Much better," replied Bart-chan. "The doctor says I may be out of here in three days."
"Excellent," said Marge, over whose shoulder hung a book bag. "Do you feel well enough to try your hand at some homework?"
"Ugh," Bart-chan groaned. "I thought Lisa was taking my place at school."
"I am," said Lisa, "and you should show a little more gratitude. Spending the entire school day as a boy was a genuinely icky experience."
With some effort and considerable discomfort, Bart-chan pulled herself into a sitting position. "Let's see the homework," she said with resignation.
"There's two weeks' worth," said Marge, dropping the bag onto the mattress with a slight bounce.
She zipped it open, and Bart-chan peered inside at the books and papers. "Geez, this is the first time my homework's been bigger than me," she remarked.
After Homer, Marge, and Lisa had left, a nurse brought Bart-chan a pad to support her back and a small platform for her books. "I'd like to be alone now, please," said the little Chinese girl, afraid the nurse would become overly curious about her ability to read at a fourth-grade level.
Twenty-four hours passed, and Bart-chan's clan returned for another visit. They found her upright in bed, watching a TV-movie about a teenage girl's struggles to become the world's first paraplegic figure skater.
"Hi, Bart," said Lisa. "How are you doing on the homework?"
"Finished it," replied Bart-chan without looking away from the screen.
"You're joking."
"No, I'm serious."
Finding a stack of papers on the counter, Lisa thumbed through them and let out an astonished gasp. "He's...he's telling the truth." She plucked out a random paper and handed it to her mother.
"These answers are correct," marveled Marge, passing the worksheet back to Lisa.
"Surprised?" said Bart-chan. "So am I. The girl I turned into must have been some sort of super-prodigy."
"Yeah, but she couldn't swim to save her life," quipped Homer.
"I don't believe this," said Lisa, glancing over a few of the completed assignments with her mother. "Bart's never worked so fast before."
"I've always heard that Chinese kids outperform American kids in math and science," said Marge. To Bart-chan she added, "If you stay the way you are, you may grow up to be a university professor."
"No way, Mom," said Bart-chan. "I want to be a boy again, and that's that."
"Have it your way," said Marge with a trace of disappointment in her tone.
Leaving the hospital, the Simpsons drove onto Route 401 in the direction of Springfield. In the backseat, Maggie was giggling and squirming in her chair while Lisa tickled her.
Some time passed, and Lisa paused from her tickling to ask a serious question. "Mom, if you don't mind my saying, you sound like you want Bart to stay female."
Taken aback, Marge glanced warily over her shoulder. "I, uh, like girls. And Bart makes a really sweet girl. But if he wants to be a boy, that's all right with me."
Lisa folded her arms. "I know what you're thinking," she said in a mature tone. "You've wished for a long time that you could start over with Bart, and shape him into something other than an underachieving clod. Now your chance has come at last. He's five years old, and better still, he's a girl. An unusually bright girl. A girl who may turn out to be just like me."
Marge only hemmed.
"You want to turn Bart into a second Lisa," the girl continued. "I understand, but I don't think it's right. I don't think it's natural. Bart's his own person. He has his own destiny. That Chinese girl died hundreds of years ago. She fulfilled her destiny. Why should Bart be forced to live her life?"
"She drowned when she was five," mused Homer. "What kind of crappy destiny is that?"
"I can't force Bart to live someone else's life," said Marge with a shrug.
But I can give him a darn good incentive, she thought.
to be continued
