Note: On the lamb and on the run with his vendetta seeking family, Robert Terwilliger (aka Sideshow Bob) replays scenarios of gruesome murders in his twisted mind but when he comes to actually carrying forth his sinister plot he cannot carry it out. Confused, befuddled and irate with himself Robert grapples with his conscience and his ultimate goal of putting an end to Bart Simpson once and for all.
"He's evil at an eighth grade level."--Robert about his son
"Attempted murder. Now, honestly, what is that ? Do they give a Nobel Peace Prize for Attempted Chemistry ?"--Robert Terwilliger
"Feelings can be like wild animals---we underrate how fierce they are until we've opened their cages."--Paul Cook's Diary, The Sunflower
Thoughts...Entry #1.
The thoughts are returning again. Ever since I was exiled from my post as Mayor in beautiful Tuscany, I have thought of nothing more than exacting my revenge on my long-time nemesis, Bartholomew Jay Simpson. For once in my life, I thought I had overcame those abysmal reveries of blood, entrails, gore, and dismemberment. But I hadn't. Since being exiled those sensations of regret, bitterness and anger boiled up from the pit of my core. If I was going to make these visions leave me I would have to do the deed myself. It was something feral in me, an animal hunger that needed to be quieted. My wife and son, they knew this all too well. For now I and my family were setting off into America to hunt the Simpson family down, but mainly to put an end to Bart Simpson's miserable existence. For the moment, we haven't gotten very far on our search, but our disguises prove to be fool-proof. No one knows who we are, and we live by aliases. It is as if Robert Terwilliger never existed. What they don't know is he does indeed exist and his thirst for blood begs to be quenched. Nothing will satisfy the beast except for a sacrifice of human flesh.
Thoughts...Entry #2.
He continues to elude me, the prey I cannot seem to corner and kill. My wife and son who are strangers in this land, long to return to Tuscany but they know that we would be tossed aside never to be welcomed again. Kind of ironic considering there are some mafia factions in Tuscany but not so much. I should've come into Palermo, Sicily or Corsica. Either way, what is done has been written on a stone tablet. There is no way of erasing it. I digress. I am still searching for Bart Simpson and each time I believe I am closer, he slips away. I know I am getting closer though. He probably hasn't moved from his old residence on Evergreen Terrace. I need to gather my barrings, ask for directions and let my murderous tendencies lead me to my goal.
As always, my darling wife and my gifted son were by my side, encouraging me.
Thoughts...Entry #3.
I finally have come upon Bartholomew Simpson's residence and it seems he and his family are all tucked away and have been carried away into the land of Morpheus. It is quiet, except for the occasional chirping of crickets, stray dogs fighting amongst each other and stray cats here and there. Happy hour is over and there isn't a soul to be seen.
Having an array of lock picks at my disposal, I quickly sneaked up to the Simpsons' door and jimmied open the lock. Being careful as not to awaken the dog or the cat, I went in and motioned the rest to follow my lead. My victory was so close I could almost taste innocent blood upon my lips...
He was asleep in bed with one of those irreprehensible likenesses of my other arch nemesis, Krusty the Clown. This was one of the rare dolls with pull strings that spoke when the string was yanked. If I ever saw Krusty again, he would be on my "to do" list next. For now, the sleeping boy was in my sights, and her's knife was clasped tightly in my right hand. Wife and child waited patiently for me to finish my mission.
Anger broiled to the point where I was almost unable to think clearly. I should've plunged the knife deep into Bart's heart by now. But, why couldn't I do it ? I wrestled with guilt and the desire to commit murder and I began to sweat. My hands shook violently. I had never experienced this problem before in my attempt to murder the little cretin, but this attempt was different. I could see him choking, rasping, gasping for his final breath and looking into my eyes asking me...
"Why ? What did I ever do to you ? I never meant for this to happen..."
Those words caused a terrible chill to ride up the tail end of my spine. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up. My shaking was so horrible that I dropped my butcher's knife and began to sob. Wife and son came in motioning to me.
"What seems to be the matter ?", my wife mouthed to me. She had seen what had happened and I timidly picked up my knife and backed out of the room.
"I can't do it, my dear. I am a coward, I realize...but I have decided to let this go. I am through with killing. I just need...rehabilitation.", I said. I couldn't believe such words were coming out of my mouth. Robert Terwilliger had gone soft. It was sickening but I had to face facts. I wasn't the man I once was. I was beginning to transform.
Thoughts...Entry 4.
I had simply walked away from possible murder. Wife and son were both shocked but I pleaded my case with them for fear they would think I was a coward. But they didn't turn away. They wanted to support me in my decision to embrace what I had become. I could no longer wield a knife nor any other object of potential harm in such a deleterious manner. The murderous intent within me was dying down and I could no longer hear its murmur in my ears.
Through time, I went through counseling and did some deep soul searching and I finally came to a conclusion. Bart, nor anyone else would ever have to concern themselves with the potential of any delirium from yours truly. I had given up ideas of murder and become a pacifist.
Though I knew I would never be welcomed into Tuscany again, I decided to move to Napoli. It was a different form of Italian and a different style of living but my wife and son helped me adjust quickly to the culture shock. It was an instant fit. From this point onward, she, my son and I would live a perfectly happy life. However, I was worried about my son, Roberto. Roberto happened to have a glint of murder in his eyes. I suppose it is in the genes for Terwilligers to have murderous intent.
Thoughts...Entry #5.
Even if I cannot stifel Roberto's murderous intentions, I still love him and support him whatever path he decides to take. Wherever he goes, whatever he does, he knows Maria and I are behind him all the way. I won't be the one to assist him if he decides to carry out his bloodlust. However, if he lands himself in the slammer, I and Maria love him dearly and will always support him in whatever decisions he makes.
These are all the thoughts I could record within the period of such short notice. I have been feverishly waiting for results for a possible job and I hope I will not be turned down because of my criminal past. If I am, it isn't the last possible resort. Maria has already adapted to Neopolitan life and I was still adjusting. But, in a few more weeks, I would get the hang of living here. I must close my journal for now and settle in for a good night's rest. No matter what tomorrow brings or what the future holds, I consider myself fortunate to be where I am and to be next to the woman I love and realize all the blessings I possess despite the pain I must bear as a marked man. Such is life, and I accept my fate. One cannot change criminal records, one must simply acknowledge them and move on.
Robert Underdunk Terwilliger
Selected Thoughts and Musings
July 23, 2006