. . . So. Long time no see. I've been drifting in and out of Simpsons for a while, and finally decided, with the newest Sideshow Bob episode (AFTER FOUR LONG YEARS!), I should at least finish this one story.

To not leaving stories! . . . Which will now be OVER three chapters long as I had once intended. Oh well. More for you guys!

Before anyone got home…

"So, young Simpson, that is your honest choice?"

Maggie sucked on her pacifier.

"You do realize that I could destroy you now. No one would even know how, and I would never talk."

Her brows furrowed, and they both tensed up.

. . . Bob laid down his cards first. "Three Aces!"

Maggie laid down hers: four queens.

"Oh, goddammit." He leaned back, crossing his arms as the infant took the candy in the center of the table (which, even if he had won, he would have left the pile in their cupboard anyway). "Oh, and you never heard that profanity. From me, at least."

She shrugged.

"Not new to your unspoken vocabulary?"

She shook her head.

"Then I suppose I won't be at the center of blame, if you ever decide to say it before your teenage years. Or in this family, fourth grade. Well, Maggie," he got up, stretching, "I would play another game if your mother had leftover candy. Alas, there are only pieces of candy corn and hard butterscotch left. Shall we play a regular game without keeps, or take a break?"

Maggie shook her head, turning in her cards to the deck and jumping off the chair.

"Very well then. What do you wish to do now?"

She yawned.

"Naptime?"

She shook her head, pointing to the TV room.

"Mm. So long as it isn't Krusty or, may God help you, the Disney channel, I'll be fine." He followed Maggie slowly, and scooped her into his arms after the third time she tripped over the blue one-piece. "You know, as a growing child, you should really have something other than these silly one-pieces. I have never seen you in anything else but that same outfit…Now come to think of it, I've never seen any of your family members in different attires!"

Hm. They had met each other on too many occasions for it to be a coincidence. Bob was sure that, if he were to go upstairs and look at all of their clothing, he would see the same green and red dresses, white and red shirts, and blue pants they wore upon every meeting.

"Hm." He shrugged, sitting on the couch and placing the infant beside him. "Do you like it?"

She nodded—then a small frown and shrug.

"I do sometimes wish you could talk, Maggie Simpson."

She could communicate. Through "rattle," holding up various picture cards, pointing to objects, WRITING, even! Brilliant for a young girl of what, one? Two now? She was older than Gino, that he knew, and for the young boy to have a bilingual vocabulary and Maggie to still be silent? After however many years, apparently playing poker and winning, shooting old billionaires, threatening people with guns that come out of nowhere (as Bob found out before their poker game…)?

He didn't think about it often, but a growing suspicion began to form in his mind:

"Maggie? Can you speak at all? Make some sort of noise?"

She took out the pacifier and sputtered out a series of indistinguishable noises.

Bob took her chin in his hand, "Can you open your mouth?"

She tried to turn away stubbornly.

"Come now, had it not been for me you wouldn't have candy to last all through Easter! Just open up, it isn't as if I'm going to stick my arm down there!"

She hesitantly opened.

"Stick out your tongue?"

Obediently, she did so.

"Hm…Nothing that I can see, at least."

Something must be wrong either mentally, nerves, or in the throat. No, not mentally—she's too damn smart. But I know she isn't mute . . . Nerves, perhaps, doesn't know how to move her tongue. Why should I even care about this?

"Maggie?"

She turned to him, having set the TV on one of Discovery Channel's special on black holes.

"Try to say something. Anything. Even a few syllables?"

Hesitantly, she opened her mouth…And closed it again.

"Oh, come now! You can do it! Please do it!"

*"Ja! Ah'ddy!"

Bob was struck into silence.

She stuck the pacifier back in, and he heard a car door slam shut and voices.

"Say those in front of your family and I'll personally buy you as much candy as I can afford," He rushed, getting up.

"Daddy!"

Oh, GREAT. "No, in front of them!" He stopped half-way across the room, glaring at her.

"Daddy!"

"In front of—oh. Oh, dear lord no."

"Daddy!"

"I'm not your—"

"Daddy!" She giggled.

"Exactly! I'm not your daddy!"

"Ja!"

He heard the voices coming closer and rushed, "No! I will NOT lay claim to any of you HEATHEN children!"

Her bottom lip jutted out in a pout, and she whimpered.

"Oh, please. Your acting skills are crude at best and you need to work on bringing the feelings to your eyes which—are—tearing up." He sighed, going back to the couch and picking her up. "Don't cry over me, we probably won't see each other for a while after this. Enjoy my company while you can," he offered her the pacifier, "but don't go around calling me 'daddy.' I don't want to get off on the wrong foot here."

He heard the key in the lock, and took several deep breaths.

Okay. Now how am I going to present this?

"Ja?"

. . . Not that way.

He smirked, taking the pacifier from her hands and sticking it into her mouth. "Hush now. I'm thinking."

He got his bearings together. The demon stretched its muscles, growling in the sunlight.

For a moment—and only a moment—its eyes flickered to the jade green that they once were. But even if anyone had been watching, nobody would have caught this. The demon growled again.

If you don't stop fighting, I'll be sure that you can't even MOVE in there.

The human soul stopped struggling against his restraints.

Perhaps, later on, the demon would simply create a maze for him to run around in. To keep him trapped inside the mind-realm forever. Set traps to slow him down even further, so that the demon could feed off of his pain.

Yes. Good plan. Blood. It wanted lots of blood.

Speaking of which, the demon took off the bloody clothes, and went off to take a shower. Might as well blend into the town. Blood seems to stick out like a sore thumb in these times.

And yet they have gotten nowhere. Humans were scared and useless during the plague, they are scared and useless now.

Unless, of course, it was still the time of the Black Plague. The demon was still a bit hazy on how long exactly he had been in hiding, skipping in and out of time when humanity was at its weakest—his favorite time of suffering was the Black Plague. But nothing had changed here—clothing, horses, corrupt idiots ruling the people. Maybe a bit more corrupt nowadays. What he presumed to be their leader had two whores by his side, going into a large castle-building in the center of the town.

He would make the human leader panic with the murders. Panic and disorder shall reign, just as the demon liked.

Besides. What does it matter to the whole world that one town might go missing? I shall make it look like the repenters murdered em' from the plague, oh, I had SUCH fun playing with those fools . . . It only took one to spread the idea of repenting, and they all followed as idiots. So of COURSE I had to play with their minds further - are you listening to me, human? Because I will tell you a secret. I took a great role in helping lead the repenters into what they were: men killing off others of their kind out of fear. Do you even realize how small a push it was, convincing them their god had sent this plague for their sins? It makes you wonder, don't you think, if the same will become of your own kind.

He felt the human soul's terror very clear and strong then, inside his mind.

"AH! SIDESHOW BOB!"

He rolled his eyes as Marge shut the door, and crossed his arms. "Oh, really! Every single time, that same damned greeting—bah. Why do I even bother?"

"What do you want?" Bart asked. He and Lisa had jumped behind Marge. "Mom, why's a homicidal maniac standing in our house? Bob, did you blackmail our mother?! Mom, he blackmailed you, didn't he?!"

"No, no!" Marge exclaimed, "No! Kids, I told you to be prepared. Come into the living room, and we'll explain."

"You trust him?!"

"I let him stay alone with Maggie, right?"

Said infant came up behind Bob, and gave her siblings a thumbs up, sucking on her pacifier.

Lisa gave Bob an incredulous look, stepping out from behind Marge. "You passed the Maggie test…Alright. You have my attention."

"Okay, fine," Bart grumbled, stepping out as well. "But the only reason why the cops aren't on the phone is because of her. So explain yourself!"

"Okay," Bob sighed, putting a hand to his chin. "Would you mind if we took this to the living room? I would prefer it if you all were to make yourselves comfortable. It's really a long story . . ."

"Mmm, it's really not," Marge said. "You explained it to me in less than two minutes."

He dead-panned, "Thank you, Marge."

"Well…"

"Just sit down."

They all nodded, going into the kitchen to talk. As they did so, Marge started on after-school snacks.

Bob explained everything that had happened thus far with Maggie on his lap and everyone munching on afternoon sandwiches.

*- These are two words Maggie has said on the show, though 'Daddy' was non-canon. 'Ja' was in the Coming to Homerica episode, and 'Daddy' was in Lisa's First Word.