Marge, worn out from several hours of non-stop housework, rested her chin on the tabletop and stared blearily at the label on a bottle of Mr. Clean. Maybe if I rub it, he'll appear, she thought hopefully.

Excited, high-pitched voices alerted her to the return of Bart and Lisa. Putting on her best "proud mother" face, she shuffled to the living room, where her children were haphazardly setting down their books and folders. "Hi, Mom," Lisa greeted her. "I met the coolest boy today."

"Wonderful!" gushed Marge. "Is he cooler than Theophilus?"

"He's even cooler than Colin," Lisa told her.

Marge delivered a kiss to her cheek. "As you get older, you'll find that the boys get cooler and cooler," she said wistfully. "Then one day, one glorious day, you'll meet the coolest boy of all…and you'll have an affair with him." She looked over at her special little guy. "How was your day, Bart?"

"I learned something amazing," he reported.

"Let's hear it," said Marge.

"Do you know why you don't give girls wedgies?" said Bart.

"Let's not hear it," said Marge.

As she started to ascend the stairway, Lisa paused. "Mom," she inquired, "have you ever heard of a former Soviet republic called Karjakistan?"

"Uh…" said Marge, searching her memory. "No, I haven't. Are you sure it's not a breakaway republic?"

Without even thinking of re-opening her Melenie Twyer book, Lisa jumped in front of her desk and quickly logged on to her Internet account. "Welcome, Lisa Simpson," uttered a voice that reminded her strongly of Tress MacNeille. "You have 74 new messages. Stephen Hawking has added you to his Facebook."

"Delete, delete, save, delete, save, delete, eradicate, delete," the girl muttered. Having made short work of her E-mail, she typed the name Karjakistan into a Google window and expectantly pressed Enter.

No matches found, the computer replied.

"No matches?" said Lisa incredulously and aloud. She performed a search on the name again.

Still no matches, said Google. Try asking your mother.

"It doesn't exist," she said, astonished. "It's a made-up place, like Christian heaven. Why would Vladimir lie?"

"For the same reason any man lies," said Bart, materializing behind her shoulder. "He wants to get into your knickers."

Lisa spun around. "He does not," she said indignantly. "And you're too young to know what that expression means."

"I got into your knickers once," said Bart cockily. "They didn't fit me."

"At least I didn't kiss him," said Lisa in a mocking tone. "What was that all about, anyway?"

"I really don't know," Bart replied, "but I'm working on a theory, based on parallel universes." He leaned over for a closer look at Lisa's computer display. "Karjakistan, huh? Sounds like the sort of thing a demented fan fiction writer would dream up."

"There could be any number of reasons," mused Lisa. "He's in the Witness Protection Program. His parents are secret agents. He's a vampire. He's a time traveler from the future, here to warn us about…"

"Hold up, Lis," Bart interjected. "What was that last one you mentioned?"

"He's a vampire?"

"No, before that."

"His parents are…"

"Secret agents," said Bart ominously. "For all we know, he's the spawn of 007 and Agent 99. Karjakistan could be a code word for an orbiting doomsday laser. You'd better not pursue this any further, unless you want Goldfinger on your ass."

Lisa flashed him a patronizing smile. "You're just paranoid, Bart. Tomorrow, when we visit the Estragons, you'll see that they're perfectly ordinary folks."

"Whoa," said Bart, waving his hands. "Did I sleep through the meeting where it was decided that we would do this?"

to be continued