"So this is where that punk lives?!" Moe sneered, staring through the windshield of his car at the Flanders' home. "Kinda ironic he lives next door to the Simpsons! It's a wonder Homer never caught him in the act of prank calling me!"
The blood-thirsty barman climbed out of his scruffy green vehicle with the pink flower decoration on the roof. He slammed the door to the driving seat shut before crossing the lawn to approach the house, armed with his shot gun.
"No matter…" he murmured to himself. "Because I'm gonna give this clown exactly what he deserves … NOW!"
With a loud roar, Moe kicked the front door of the house down. He charged inside and entered the living room, where he found Ned Flanders on his telephone, taking him by surprise.
"Hey!" Flanders exclaimed, his eyes widening behind his glasses. "What the diddly heck do you think you're up to, barging into my home like this?"
"So…" Seeing Flanders was holding his phone to his ear, Moe smirked as he took aim with his shotgun. "You're the one who's been making all those phoney calls to me all this time! I guess you were bluffing when you told me you were ten foot, but then you probably didn't expect me to show up!"
Flanders gasped at the sight of the gun that was in the mad barman's hands. Realising his life was in danger, he quickly cut off the call he was making to Reverend Lovejoy, intending to dial 9-1-1.
BANG!
An enormous gunshot filled the house as Ned fired his weapon at Flanders' telephone. The handset was blasted into the pieces, destroyed by the bullet which had pierced through it. No longer would it be making any calls.
"Friend, I don't know what your problem is, but you really want think about what you're doing here!" Flanders urged desperately. "The Lord is watching you from above, you know!"
"I'm sure he is!" Moe grinned manically as he backed the religious man into a corner. "And he's gonna be thanking me for saving him the trouble of dragging you to hell - since I'm about to bring it straight to you!"
Holding the head of the shotgun, Moe swung it around to strike Flanders as hard as he could. The handle struck his face, bringing a cry of pain out of him as his glasses smashed. He slunk against the wall he was trapped against as the insane intruder proceeded to brutally beat him up - unaware the person he was attacking was not the mystery prank caller.
"Homie!" Marge exclaimed, standing at the window of her kitchen, gazing with concern at the house next door. "I thought I just heard Ned screaming over there!"
"So?" Homer muttered without looking up from the donuts he was eating.
"There might be something wrong with him!" Go over to his house and see if he's alright!"
"No way!" Homer huffed stubbornly. "I ain't going over there to check on stupid Flanders! Let him ask his almighty lord for help! I can't dealing with him!"
"Mmmmm…" Marge grunted, irritated at her husband's lack of empathy and care for their neighbour.
Up in the treehouse in the Simpsons' back hard, Bart smiled as he listened to the screams erupting from the Flanders' house. He was feeling very smug at that moment. He had set Moe up to attack the wrong person for the prank calls which he had been making to his bar. He was very pleased with himself - and was certain that his father would be amused by all the suffering their goody-goody neighbour was going through that moment.
"Cowabunga, dude…" Bart said triumphantly to himself.
The end.