A decaying hand with patches of brown fur, matted with a black slime, grabbed hold of the rusted bars which separated the whisperer from Bart. Chunks of greying meat hung from white bone as four fingers reached for him. "Master, Simpson. Let me touch your face."

"Yeah …" Bart hesitated, seeing a bug scurry across the remainder of flesh, then vanished back into the dark. "You got the wrong guy, dude." He strained to make out the silhouette, to find the figure behind the bars obscured by smog.

"You are Bart Simpson, right? The one who saved Burns's life through your generous blood donation? His sole designated heir?"

Bart's brow furrowed as he scrambled to make use of the one brain cell, trying to focus on the enigma in front of him and not the rounded bump where Terri's hip bulged from her jeans. "Hrmmmmm." The sound of snapping fingers caused him to jump. "Right! Uh, I do recall perhaps providing some blood to the old geezer …. But I ain't no one's heir."

"It is as I feared … You are not who you were."

"No, I am pretty sure I am Bart Simpson or rat boy to friends." His heart lodged itself in his throat when the rotted hand shot out, grabbing him by the collar. Jerked forward, he banged against the grating, face to face with a pair of grotesque, beady eyes. Split pupils oozing a yellow puss from black sclera stared deep into his soul. "You, uh …" He motioned to the pestilent mess. "Got some pink-eye."

An infection was the least of his concerns, however, as he found the bloated, grey skin dangling from this being's jowls. With each movement of its lips, maggots wriggled beneath its flesh, causing Bart to turn several shades of green. "Release me, and I'll show the source of this place's misery."

"Can't you just show me an exit?"

"No. You are the heir. Only you can undo our mistake."

Bart gave a placating smile, but then a lightbulb went off over his head, shattered, and showered him with so much glass that anyone else might have been concerned. "Wait, a second. If I am the old corpse's heir, do I get his money?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"Well, damn rotty. Why didn't you say so?" Bart said. He looked around. "How do I get you out of the cage?"

"Back the way you came is a chamber, where the rejects were fed. Inside is a lever which controls this gate … for when the river needed to flow freely."

Bart nodded. He stepped away and stopped. "Rejects?" He looked back, concerned. The figure flashed a thumbs up in response, giving Bart the pep in his step he needed to strut right back up toward the blood river's source. Where he found an iron door, where one had not been before, a valve connected five inter-locking bars waiting on his hands to turn it. Beyond worrying about the irrational space's games, Bart complied, pushing his hips out as he gave it a twist with dramatic flair.

It screeched open, illuminating an oval-shaped room. Positioned in a circle around a centered black hole was a line of railing, allowing safe observation of whatever lurked inside. Of course, Bart could not know this, as he focused on finding the lever mentioned. His senses were dizzied by the lamentable odor of rot and mold. The humidity squeezed against him; Bart wiped the moisture from his brow as he followed the edge of the stagnant pool.

Across the room, a blinking series of dials and lights wink from a control panel. Pump controls of a sort, so Bart walked over it to it, missing the bubbles appearing on the surface of the fetid water. No stranger to using the town sewers to pass unnoticed. He flipped two switches on the panel, the bulb above them becoming green. A grinding hum shook the walls, followed by a metallic clanking as water drained from the pit behind him.

Pulling down on the aforementioned lever, Bart waited for something to go horribly wrong. For a terrible monster to leap from the shadows and devour him whole. When this did not happen, he wagged his finger at nothing. "Now, I've seen enough movies to know—"

An eruption of black water caused him to curl his finger backward as a worm of immense blasted into the air. Its rubbery body spilling over the immediate space, forcing Bart to press against the panel to avoid being crushed. He held his breath, unsure what he had unleashed now. His fright abated when a mushy mass of purple hair popped into view and Terri waved down. "Heeeeeeeeeey!

Relieved, Bart never had time to respond before she pounced on him, smothering his face and neck with smooches. Her adoration, sloppy as ever, washed over his entire body like a calming wave, turning Bart a deep shade of red. Steam whistled from his ears as he struggled to respond. Once covered in rings of black lipstick, he hugged her. "Good to see you, too."

"Hehe. I like rescuing my princess from the castle, but let's not make it a trend," she said before pointing to the worm behind her. "That's Greed, well part of him. We're besties now."

Bart leaned, looking past her at the coiled monstrosity now overtaking the entire space. "Big worm."

"I know! Big enough to eat holes in reality," Terri explained, her eyes glittering with excitement at becoming an eldritch prodigy. "Greed! Introduce yourself!"

The segment shifted, what could be called a head popping into view. Tendrils wiggling around a single red eye, held above a maw by a single stem. "Hello bipedal organ system. Mistress Terri told me all about you."

"Yo?" Bart said with a wave. "So you trapped in here too?"

"Sort of."

"Um, well. There is another fella who asked me to let him out," Bart said, pointing in the direction he had come. The found of pained footsteps on stone caused them to look to see a humanoid rat with matted fur appear in the doorway. Its body was obscured behind a torn, brown wool robe which stopped at the bend in its digitigrade legs. "Oh, hey. I think this is my ride."

This amalgamation of man and rat plodded forward. "Master, Simpson. You have freed me." His single good orbital remained fixated on Bart, ignoring the others present. "We must go. As the last living heir, it is time to assume your duties over the estate."

"Heir?" Terri asked aloud. She scoffed. "Who'd wanna be in charge of this murder house?"

"Well, hold on now," Bart interrupted. "This place is a total fixer upper. Drain some of the blood pools and get a couple of exorcists. We would have quite a little haunt." He motioned with his hand broadly.
"Think about it. I'd be the lord and you…" He placed an arm around her. "Would be my live-in maid, who I am having a sordid affair with."

Terri pursed her lips, staring at him from the corner of her eye. "I'd prefer to be your wife who you are having a normal affair with. The mysterious Countess Mackleberry, who is only seen on new moons buying groceries at the Kwik-E-Mart."

Chronic lack of imagination aside, both seemed satisfied with the fantasy life. Greed single eye bobbed in a fatigued circle. The Ratman now stood close to the pair. It's fur giving off a scent not too different from burnt charcoal after a barbecue. Although upon closer inspection, the burns present along the side of this hybrid explained the source. Blackened chunks of angry, blister-riddled skin , where fur no longer grew. "We must go."

"I advise against it," Greed said.

"What do you know?" Terri asked, keeping hold of Bart's wrist in case anything decided to get wise.

"I have given my advice, mistress, but I owe no explanation for it."

Bart, ever his own man. "Listen, Rotface. You've promised money, but maybe you can sweeten the deal."

"Would … assorted cheeses reassure the young master?"

"Would they!?" Bart was sold in an instant, but when Terri tightened her grip on him, he hesitated. "Um, what kind?"

"Sixty-four slices of American cheese and moldy provolone."

With pleading eyes, Bart looked at the closest person he had to a love in his life. "You hear that T? Fancy cheeses!"

Terri delivered a long, labored sigh. Maybe spontaneity had its downsides. "Fine, we can go with the Rotface. But!" She made him look at her. "If we survive, promise you'll let me do your hair and makeup."

One of her many schoolgirl fantasies. Bart also knew all too well it was the most tame; he flashed a grin. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

A joyful scream left her lips. Terri snapped her fingers at Greed. "Go let Sherri know. We're going to trust the rat."

"As you wish …." Greed hissed, as the segment vanished into the tube again.

Bart and Terri turned back to Rotface, who stared through them both. "Come. I'll take you to the heart." It faced the wall, pressed down on a panel in the center. Stone ground against stone as a secret passageway revealed itself.

Jessica and Nelson stood atop a pile of dog corpses in the center of the manor's garden. Waves after waves of undead mutts threw themselves at the pair, only to meet a swift second end by one of their blunt instruments. Splintered dog skulls with grey ooze spilling out from the break, littered the path to where they had made their stand. Exhausted by the harrowing struggle, Nelson leaned against a breathless Jessica.

"Think I … Pulled something important," he said with both hands on his knees.

"Come on grandpa, don't tell me you are already worn out," Jessica teased. Running on pure adrenaline and bloodlust, she bore a mouthful of perfect teeth produced from several painful years of braces. "I wanna fight something bigger!" She waved the crowbar in the air. "You hear me! Give me a real challenge."

"Jess, will you shut up?" Nelson protested, eager to avoid another wave of zombified dogs. The proboscis of which had left several painful, swollen welts on his exposed arms. Each puncture, draining a small amount of blood before he could bash the hound away.

The ground rumbled, causing Jessica to panic. "Wait! No! I didn't mean it!" She leaped behind Nelson, grabbing hold of his sleeve. The stagnant air ahead of them wobbled first, then split apart, Greed's gaping mouth of teeth tearing through an invisible dimensional barrier. Sherri clutching handfuls of rubbery skin as wide-eyed she held on for dear life.

Once still, she slid off her noble steed and, with shaky legs, approached. She took one look at the mounds of dog bodies and her blood-spattered friends, then sighed. "Guessing you guys want an explanation."

"Ya think?" Nelson asked, making his way down to her. "How about you start with… WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?"

Jessica joined him, nodding her head rapidly. "Mhmm. Mhmm. That's a start. Next, you can tell me what that is." She pointed to Greed, who slithered by, unhinged its jaw, sucking the hounds into its mouth. Each slurp was followed by an ear-splitting grinding as Greed reduced bone to dust.

"A friend?" Sherri explained with a weak smile.

"Eh, good enough." Jessica shrugged. "Didn't think you were into guys."

Nelson squinted at her. "Guys?" He looked at the genderless worm slurping up whatever meat or sinews availed itself.

"Worms are men," Jessica said; "phallic symbolism Nelly. Real basic stuff."

Sherri clapped. "Please. Don't. Sexualize. The. Worm."

Greed twisted to face them. "Indeed. Comingling between species often leads to unforeseen consequences."

A sudden chill caused Sherri to shudder at the thought. The mental image of the gymnastics expected of the human woman enough for her to turn a shade of dark green. It took a second to realize Jessica was inches away from her face, wearing a bemused smirk. "Sherri? Are you having impure thoughts?"

"I'm a teen girl in nowheresville USA. Do I have anything else?"

"Ooo, I may have to report you to my mother," Jessica teased. "Sinful girls need a lesson in purity."

Nelson grumbled under his breath, looking back at Greed. "Alright, wormy. While they are distracted, mind answering my question."

Finished eating, Greed wriggled over, its immense body slamming against the ground as it pushed over to him. "Nothing. This place has always existed."

"Uh huh … right. How about you give me a better answer or I'll …" Nelson raised a fist. "Bash your head in!"

His bravado impressed Greed, who emitted a noise which might have been likened to a laugh had it not sounded like the howl of an animal after a metal trap's teeth bit through flesh and pierced bone. "Where you stand is both where you once stood and where you will stand again. Just misshapen. Unformed by the hands of the force which gives shape to Earth and life to the lifeless."

Nelson punched Greed. His fist sunk into the worm's flesh like a piece of foam. Sherri saw this and, shoving Jessica back, shouted. "Nelson Muntz!" She stormed over. "How dare you! This isn't just some loser you can shake down for their lunch money." Both hands shot out as she gestured to the girth of the impressive worm. "This is Greed! Grown fat off of the ambition of an old miser! Show some respect!"

"Thank you, mistress."

Jessica danced up behind Sherri, placing both hands around her waist. "So assertive."

Sherri rolled her eyes, but did not object to the touch. "Okay, back on topic. Have either of you seen Milhouse? Greed can't seem to find him."

Nelson and Jessica shook their heads. "Might be dead," the former offered, still ready to break some nerd glasses.

"There are three presences aside from Mistress Terri and her beloved organ system," Greed said. "It would appear they have opted to carve their own path with another. My guess is something more powerful than me has obscured the one you call Milhouse."

"Would fixing whatever caused this nightmare help?" Jessica asked.

"Only if the source of the veil is the same which hides Milhouse," Greed answered. "I suggest we find the tree, Mistress Mackleberry."

"Oh, hell no. I ain't dealing with that tree again," Nelson protested.

"Would you prefer to be chewed to death by zombie hounds?" Sherri asked, climbing back onto the worm's back. "Because we don't have time to wait around." She offered a hand to Jessica, pulling her up. "I am sure my dear sister has a good reason for her detour." Nelson lingered but with no other options. He groaned, joining them.