The day of Krusty's funeral came, and practically everyone in Springfield was there. The only people who didn't come to the funeral were Kent Brockman, who didn't mourn the loss, Mayor Quimby and Miss Springfield, who had… other plans. Springfield, a small town, had time for everyone to be able to attend even celebrity funerals.

The interesting thing was, even Sideshow Bob came to the funeral, which came as a surprise for some. The three cops were watching him closely, but he was otherwise nonchalantly standing in a corner, wearing a hat to keep from being noticed. It didn't work completely, but he went unnoticed by the Simpsons.

"We are gathered here today, to mourn the loss of Herschel Krustofski, or Krusty as he liked to be called," Reverend Lovejoy said. "He was a source of entertainment for many, an annoyance to some, but a friend to most. We will all miss him very, very much, and cherish the memories that he gave us, and the jokes that he stole from us.

"Now, if anyone would like to speak in his honour, please come up."

With that invitation, Sideshow Mel stood up. He walked towards the platform on which the reverend was standing, and took position. He cleared his throat.

"Krusty was… a dear friend of mine. An inspiration, if you will… And it's hard to accept the fact that he's passed on…"

"…………"

A voice? Too quiet to understand the words, too quiet for those in the back to hear, but Sideshow Mel and Reverend Lovejoy looked bewildered. They could hear where it came from, the coffin…

"………………!!!"

Apprehensively, Sideshow Mel lifted the coffin lid.

Krusty lay dead inside.

But as the lid shut again, the voice came back.

"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Baffled, Mel lifted the lid again.

"AAAAAAAUUUUUGGGHHHHHHH! ABOOGA ABOOGA BOOOOOOOOOOO ABOOGBOOOGBOOOOOOOOG! BLUHBLIHBLEH! PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPTH!"

This time Krusty popped out of the coffin, very much alive. He waggled his fingers, and made bizarre noises. He laughed. Everyone was stunned.

"HA! 'Passed on'? More like, 'pissed off!' Putting me in a coffin? I'm still alive, dumbasses!"

Dr. Hibbert laughed. "You see," he explained, "I was actually joking, but the camera crew cut off the footage of the laughter."

For those that the shock had left, there was a bit of rejoicing, but Sideshow Bob was overwhelmed with gloom.

"Wh-What is this all about? Why is Krusty still alive? I- I- I killed him! PEOPLE WHO WERE KILLED SHOULD NOT BE ALIVE!!!"

"Whoa, hey, take it easy Sideshow Bob. If you don't, we might need to put you in solitary confinement," said Chief Wiggum. "You should watch your back…"

"Watch my back, hm? Why should I need to watch my back? He's the one who should watch his back! He gave me a victory- a WELL-DESERVED victory- and then what does he do? He takes it away from me! Why?? Why can't I have a victory for just ONCE in my life??"

Sideshow Bob quickly glanced around, observing his surroundings. Sweat trickled down his neck. His throat was dry. His gaze eventually locked on Bart.

"You did this, didn't you!" Bob shouted to Bart. "You made this happen!"

"What are you talking about?"

"It's your fault! You knew, didn't you! You knew that I didn't really kill him! And you knew that he would be back to HAUNT ME!"

"What the… But! I was just as surprised as everyone else, so…"

"Oh, yes, you were surprised, weren't you? But which do you think was a bigger shock, yours or mine??"

"Sideshow Bob, snap out of it!" Mel cut in. "You can't blame Bart for what Krusty did."

"Oh, yes, you're right. You're right. This was all Krusty's fault. I'm sorry Bart. I shouldn't be out to get you. It all was Krusty's fault. I ought to kill him. Wait, no, I already did. And he was dead for about five days. HOW CAN ANYONE BE DEAD FOR FIVE DAYS ONLY? I KILLED HIM! HE… He should be… dead for good… Oh, what's the point? I obviously could never have any true victories. Maybe I should just end it now…"

He glanced at Krusty, glared, then shifted his gaze to Bart, then back to Krusty, then let it rest on Bart. "But I'm taking one of you with me," he muttered. "Who should it be…"

He closed his eyes as if deep in thought.

Everyone waited for him expectantly, because the town of Springfield isn't particularly bright.

"All right…" Bob said, his mouth twisting into a smile. "I have an idea.

"I'll kill BOTH of you!"

Everyone gasped.

"You first, Krusty." He picked up a plastic table knife, and started stabbing Krusty with it. The flimsy plastic bent against Krusty's belly and eventually broke.

"Drat… But there's more where that came from!!" He had three plastic knives in his hand, each of them flimsy and breaking. The knives were sharper when broken, so Bob saw this as an advantage.

"Hey, Bob, not to rain on your parade, but this doesn't hurt at all."

This infuriated Bob. So instead of attacking him with the futile knives, he took the vase of flowers instead, crashing it against Krusty's head.

The glass vase broke, and shards of glass stuck out from behind Krusty's ears. Blood stuck to the shards and slowly moved down the back of his head.

"Aaaaaaauuuuggghhhhhhhhh…." Krusty groaned. "You… You're… going to have to… do better than that…"

So Bob, at the request, took another shard and thrust it into Krusty's chest.

"AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUAUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAUGHH……….." Krusty groaned. "Urk!"

His eyes looked distant.

"One down, two to go," Bob said. "Bart, it's your turn…."

Bart mustered up as much strength as possible, and bolted.

"YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CAN'T HIDE…!"

Bart ran all the way back to Evergreen Terrace.

"I WILL GET YOU, BART SIMPSON!!"

Bart ran into the Flanders house by mistake, allowing him to relax a bit, because he could hide wherever, and Bob would be raiding the Simpson house.

But Bart was wrong. Bob saw the path that Bart had taken, and followed him directly to the hiding spot.

"I've got you now…"

Bart had hidden in the cellar, but he still felt naked in the emptiness of the room. So he ran to the corner, which had a table, and crouched under the table.

It wasn't enough.

In the initial darkness of the cellar, Bart had misjudged the conspicuousness of the furniture he was hiding under. Bob opened the door to the cellar (Bart hadn't locked it) and light flooded in. Bart had cornered himself. There was no escape.

Suddenly Bart looked up at the objects on his table.

A flower vase… This could be his chance to distract.

He grabbed the vase off of the table, and as Bob approached, shards ready, Bart held the vase in front of his head to protect himself. Water poured out of the vase as if it was bleeding. Ceramic vase… It was only makeshift, but it worked. As Bob struggled to free his shard from the new, squishy, sticky vase, Bart climbed out from under the table and stumbled out of the cellar.

The shard was stuck, so Bob decided to leave it be.

"I won't let you get away!"

Bart ran out of the cellar, out of the house. Bob followed closely behind, but a safe distance…

Whooosh

A shard zoomed past Bart. Bob was throwing them now.

Whooosh

"I won't miss! This is my last one!!"

Bart tripped over a wilted weed, leaving him immobilized for a second. Bob put his foot on Bart, preventing escape. He bent over, and stuck a shard in Bart's neck. Blood spurted out as he removed it, and stained the green grass red.

"It's… over…" Bob said. Blood covered his hands. "I… can't believe I did this… I… do… deserve to die…"

And so, taking the glass shard that had killed his nemesis and rival, he slit his wrists and let them bleed until he could feel nothing anymore.

Falling down to the ground, he spoke his final words, "I'm sorry… I'm insane…"

As the police cars came, sirens blared, and upon seeing the extra deaths, the police went white with horror. A day that would long stick in Springfield's memory, the three deaths that would forever haunt the minds of all who were present…