THREE:

THE FIRST DELIVERY

"You know, that gives me an idea," Bart mused as he watched Fry walk out of the pizza factory with his mom and a new job.

"What's that?" Milhouse asked.

Bart gave his friend a sympathetic look. Though Milhouse wore glasses, which looked cool with his blue hair, Bart's lifetime friend wasn't high in the brains department. Neither was Bart, which was why they were such good friends.

"We can have a pizza party tomorrow night," Bart explained. A mischievous glint was in his eyes as he continued: "And you're invited."

"Yay, pizza!" Milhouse cried.

Bart smiled. Just as he began to high-five Milhouse, Marge walked up to the boys. Fry wasn't with her; he had already left.

"What are we celebrating here, boys?" Marge asked the two friends, who looked up at her nervously and shuffled their feet. This was no time to be celebrating anything, not with Barney's death being so fresh on everyone's minds and the boys knew that. Barney's funeral was, after all, taking place that weekend. They should be mourning.

"Um, Miss. Simpson, I was just wandering –" Milhouse began but Bart interrupted him, saving his friend from further embarrassment by telling his mom about the party plans himself.

Marge pondered on it for a moment before saying, "Well, I guess its okay. It might after all, give Fry a chance to prove he can do this job."

"Yes!" Bart and Milhouse cried in unison, this time giving each other high-fives.

Tomorrow was going to be an awesome Friday night, Bart just knew it.

The hotel was cheep. Yancy hated it. He wished that his parents had had a bit more sense in decency when they picked a place for them to stay but they hadn't.

"It's better than sleeping in the streets," Mr. Fry said. Yancy scowled at him. His father was sprawled across the sofa like an unnatural lump of coal with Mrs. Fry standing over him like a hawk.

They were watching TV or at least trying to. Yancy didn't even know what it was they were watching, or what it was called. He could only watch his mother in dismay as she bent over her husband and snagged a handful of popcorn from his bowl, which he clasped possessively to his chest.

Yancy ached for Fry. His parents had just thrown him out like he was a piece of trash and Yancy couldn't stand it. He was about to walk out the door and look for Fry himself when his little brother walked in, wearing a proud grin on his tired face.

"Phillip, where have you've been?" Mrs. Fry snapped.

Fry flinched. He was still smiling, though, when he proclaimed, "I went and got a job." He tossed his jacket off and walking past his parents without a second glance. He was heading for the bathroom.

"At what?" Mr. Fry asked, dreading the answer. Yancy was silently dreading the answer as well.

"Pizza delivery boy," Fry answered, and Yancy groaned. Of all the pathetic jobs his brother could've picked it had to be that one!

"At what place?" Mr. Fry pressed, his eyes still intently focused on the TV. Yancy could see robots and aliens reflecting out of those dull eyes, giving him the impression that they were watching something like Star Wars or Star Trek.

"Just an old pizza factory down the road that this lady showed me," Fry replied, making another attempt toward the bathroom. "Now if you'll excuse me I have to go take a leak."

Good for you Fry, Yancy thought, rolling his eyes disdainfully. At least he was trying to make an effort, which was something that he rarely did at home and Yancy was beginning to think that just maybe, coming here was a good idea after all.

On the outskirts of town Sideshow Bob slumped over a tree, wheedling away at his knife and scheming.

There was no way he could get back into town now, not with all those damn TV reporters around but…there just had to be a way…

A bear suddenly appeared from behind a copse of trees, one of the same bears that Maggie had befriended during her family's first camping trip in the woods.

As many people in Springfield knew, that camping trip hadn't gone to well. Homer had been mistaken for Bigfoot, Bart had nearly drowned, and Maggie…well, Maggie had come out of the forest pretty much unscathed, just like her mother and big sister. She had even learned to communicate with the bears.

Though Bob didn't know all this and was too wrapped up in his devious planning to even consider that this bear might be intelligent.

No, he didn't even give the bear time to think for itself. With a roar Bob had charged at the animal, wrestling it with his bare hands and killing in the similar way that Jebediah Springfield was said to have done.

He walked into town with the bear's skin concealing his true form.

On the following Friday night, Bart and his friends had gathered atop the Simpsons' tree house. Milhouse Van Houten was there, along with Ralph Wilgum, the police chief's son, and Martin Prince, a brainy nerd who also came from Bart's 4th grade class.

"Man, I'm hungry," Milhouse complained. Bart hushed him. He was peering down into his family's lawn, scanning over the area through a pair of binoculars. He was waiting for Fry to drive up the sidewalk on his bike.

"Surely it doesn't take this long to bring an order of two pizzas?" Martin said. Bart, as politely as he could, told him to shut up.

"My wee-wee wants to potty," Ralph announced.

Bart slapped his forehead. He was wondering if Ralph even had a brain that could function properly when Fry arrived, bringing the pizza load.

Bart liked Fry. He hadn't talked to him much earlier when he had been talking with his mom but, from what little conversation they did share, Bart knew that he and Fry could team up and raise some serious hell.

Just as the thought crossed Bart's mind, Fry walked up to the door and rang the bell. Marge answered it, greeted Fry, and pointed the confused delivery boy in the right direction.

"Pizza delivery for…Bart Simpson!" Fry said when he had reached the foot of the tree house after Marge had pointed it out to him. Bart motioned him up.

"Come on up, my man!" he said, and Fry smiled. He gave the tree house one thorough inspection before ascending it, balancing the pizza boxes in one hand while he pulled himself up with the other.

"Good work, fellow citizen," Martin congratulated. He took the pizzas off of Fry's hands as Bart hoisted the young man up.

"Whew, at least it wasn't some gay name like Seymour Asses," Fry wheezed, his shoulders heaving as sweat poured down his face. He needed to work out more. There was no way that he was growing up to be a lazy slob like his father.

Bart howled with laughter. "Seymour Asses!" he giggled, rolling on the floor. "Oh, that's a good one…I'm using it on Moe the first chance I get!"

Moe Szyslack was the bartender at Moe's Tavern, the place Homer used to hang out with Karl, Lenny and Barney before Barney was just so needlessly murdered. Bart and Lisa had been prank-calling Moe for years, and the man still hadn't figured out who the culprit was.

Bart quickly explained all this to Fry before they settled down to the pizza, which didn't last long.

"Top notch service, mate," Martin complemented. He stifled a burp. Ralph began to pick his nose.

"Yeah, the pizza rocked," Bart agreed, digging into his pants pockets and fishing out ten dollars of his allowance. "Here, take it. You deserved it, dude."

"Yeah, have some from me, to," Milhouse offered, handing out five dollars. Martin presented Fry with money as well. Ralph continued to pick his nose.