Chapter 2: Your Very Own Guardian Devil
(DO NOT ASK FOR A COMMISSION FOR MY WORK! THE ANSWER IS FUCK NO AND WILL STAY FUCK NO! ALL REVIEWS AND PMS ASKING ABOUT A COMMISSION WILL BE REPORTED AND BLOCKED! GO AWAY ALREADY!
Gotta say, I'm feeling real lucky recently. Not only am I getting to start another Simpsons/Horror crossover soon, but with both of my major stories on hiatus for the time being, I'll be able to work on them at a slightly faster rate than normal. That's not to say that I no longer enjoy working on the two long runners, just that I'm really excited to work on these new ideas that I hope will reflect how I've grown as a writer if just a bit.
That being said, please leave a review, even if it's negative. I just want something actually real instead of the fucking spam that FF refuses to get rid of. It really sickens me that's all there is on the reviews so please, leave an actual one.
Alright, enough bullcrap. It's play time!)
Tonight was the night Bart Simpson had lost his mind.
That was the only explanation, the only rational reason why he was seeing the doll his father had bought him for his birthday sitting at the foot of his bed and telling him to keep it down. Maybe it was all the stranglings his father had given him over the years or perhaps the fumes of the leaky furnace in the basement finally seeping up to the rest of the house. Regardless of how it was happening, Bart was certain that he was going insane.
Or maybe he was dreaming.
With that thought in mind, Bart pinched himself on the wrist. "Ow!"
He almost groaned when he still saw the doll sitting there before him and felt even worse when he started to chuckle.
"Sorry kid, but this ain't no dream!" He said.
"W-Who are you?" Bart asked as he pulled the covers over himself.
"I'm Chucky. And I'm your friend till the end." He answered with the confidant smile of a wiseass. Bart would know, he's seen and worn that expression many times.
"Cut the crap, man!" Bart demanded. "You and I both know there's nothing normal about this so what's your deal? Are you possessed or something?"
"Would you believe me if I told you I'm your guardian angel?" Chucky asked.
"Huh?"
"I know what it sounds like but it's true, kid. I'm your guardian angel, sent by the Big Man Upstairs to guide you on the right path. I understand how...unusual this must sound and that's why I've taken on the appearance of a doll, so you know you can trust me."
Bart studied Chucky for a few moments, carefully considering what he had just been told. Once he had, he only had two words to say in response. "Get bent!"
"Huh!?" The doll exclaimed in surprise.
"Cleary, you didn't do your homework when you got assigned to me because I'm the baddest kid this side of the country!" Bart declared. "Old ladies faint in my presence! School teachers fear to speak my very name! I'm the Duke of Delinquents and I'm proud of it, man! Plus, I'm pretty sure I sold my soul to the Devil for a Butterfinger once." Bart pointed to the door. "So take your rubber butt outta here and go play Jiminy Cricket for someone else, bub!"
Now it was Chucky's turn to stare at Bart, his glass eyes wide with surprise and intrigue. After a few moments, he suddenly burst into a fit of hysterical, delighted laughter which, of course, only served to confuse the poor boy.
"Hey! What gives?"
"I-I'll tell you what gives, kid!" Chucky wiped a tear from his eye. "You passed!"
"Passed what!?"
"Satan's test! You see kid, I was sent by someone but not the Big Jackoff in the Sky. I was sent by the other guy!"
"The other guy?" Bart's eyes widened with interest. "Are you...a demon?"
"Not quite," Chucky confessed. "You see, my real name is Charles Lee Ray and I was what you would call a gangster!"
The mental image of a old-timey man with a fedora and a machine gun appeared in Bart's mind as his lips curved into a smile. "No way! You were a gangster?"
"Through and through." Chucky continued. "I must have committed just about every kind of sin there is at least once. And you know something, the Devil keeps tabs on stuff like that. Selects the very best and lets them dish out the punishment along with the demons."
"Cool!" Bart droned.
"Yep." Chucky looked at his nails. "Instead of frying like an egg, I get to crack the whip. That's just how evil I was." Chucky turned to Bart. "And Old Scratch sees that same potential in you."
Bart gasped. "In me?"
"That's right, kid! The Devil himself thinks you would make a great general for his army but he needs to make sure you stay on the wrong path. That's why he sent me, to guide you to your destiny as a Prince of Hell!"
"Whoa, Prince of Hell!" Bart let himself fade into another fantasy, this one depicting him as a horned demon sitting on a throne of teacher's bones. He was being fanned by two succubus in jet-black bikinis and being served a cup of Buzz Cola by a imp. Before him, strapped to a spinning wheel, was Principal Skinner.
"Young man, this is going on your immortal record!" Skinner said as he finally came to a stop.
Bart sipped his cola and grabbed his whip. "Get damned!" He cracked the whip at the wheel sending it to another vicious spin as Skinner screamed helplessly.
Bart chuckled himself out of the fantasy. "Sweet!" Then a thought occurred to him. "Wait a minute, if you're from Hell, why do you look like a Cabbage Patch Kid knockoff?"
"Hello! Hell-bound soul over here!" Chucky replied. "I need a body to move around in and Satan's got a sick sense of humor. Besides, who's gonna suspect a cute little doll as an agent of evil?"
"I see your point," Bart agreed. "Oh man, this is awesome! My very own Hell spirit! We are going to paint the town red, my friend!"
"My thoughts exactly." Chucky snickered as Bart uttered a yawn. "But even hellraisers need their sleep so go to bed, kid. We can talk more about this tomorrow."
"You're the doll!" Bart saluted Chucky as he lay back down in his bed. Chucky waited until Bart closed his eyes and hopped off the bed toward the desk.
"Shit, this kid's as stupid as he is ugly." Chucky thought. "I could wait for him to fall asleep and possess him here and now." He climbed up to the desk and turned back to Bart. "Then again, this kid might prove to be entertaining if we was willing to believe in that horseshit. Besides, I might as well get a layout of this dump first, see if I can find any weapons."
The doll grinned.
"First chance I get..."
As it turned out, Chucky would get his chance the following morning as the family prepared to go to church. Bart was struggling with his tie in front of the mirror, his shorts still on the bed.
"Stupid church clothes!" He muttered. "And then people wonder why kids sin." He finally fixed his tie in place and turned to Chucky who had remained sitting on his desk since last night. "Say, I won't lose any points with Satan by going to church, will I? Because this is sort of a mandatory family thing."
"Don't sweat it, kid." Chucky assured him. "Just keep your thoughts as impure as you can. Personally, I'd recommend imaging the preacher with his robes on fire or mentally undressing the women there."
"Gross!" Bart gagged. "Trust me, dude. That's not a mental image I need to see!"
Just then, the door to Bart's room opened and Marge stuck her head in. "Bart, are you almost ready?"
"Just getting my shorts on!" Bart said as he pulled the shorts over his legs.
"We'll be waiting in the car." Marge said. "Don't make us wait too long!"
"Alright, alright!" Bart said as he struggled with his shorts. Marge closed the door and after a minute or so, Bart finally won the battle with his outfit.
"You know, you might have had an easier time of that if you put your shorts on before your shoes." Chucky suggested.
"That way of dressing is for when I actually wanna go somewhere." Bart tucked in his shirt. "You gonna be okay by yourself?"
"I'll manage." Chucky said. "Have fun and remember, impure thoughts!" Chucky tapped his head as he said this.
Bart nodded and left for the car. Before long, Chucky heard the sound of a car pulling out of the driveway and down the road. Once that sound faded, he stretched.
"Alright! Time to get to work!"
With a grunt of effort, the doll hopped off the desk and landed on his feet. He dusted himself off and looked around the room. "First off, let's see what the kid's packing." He started to search the room for anything he could use as a weapon later. However, Bart's room yielded no favorable results, with only dirty clothes, spoiled food and forgotten toys to be found. The closest to a weapon Chucky was able to find was a slingshot which he tested with a single yank of the band.
"Not bad but let's keep looking."
Placing the slingshot in his back pocket for the time being, the doll left Bart's room and immediately noticed the open door to Lisa's. Cautiously, he pushed it further open and tiptoed inside.
"Maybe the sister's got something to-
Chucky accidently stepped on Snowball II's tail as he snuck into Lisa's room. The poor cat uttered a yowl of pain which in turn startled Chucky, causing him to fall on his ass as the cat ran off.
"Ugh!" Chucky turned to the cat as she vanished behind the door and flipped her off. "Up yours, hairball!" He screamed.
Mumbling to himself, Chucky got back up and continued his search for a weapon. Lisa's room proved to be even more disappointing than Bart's as all to be found were books, dolls and a lone saxophone. Aside from reminding him of the time he beat a Blues musician to death with his own instrument as the Lakeshore Strangler, the saxophone held no value to Chucky and so he gave the room one final once over. Only then did he notice the pink handle of a jump rope behind the door. He pulled it out beneath the door and smiled. "Now this. This I can use." He coiled the rope around his arm and left Lisa's room.
Not bothering with the master bedroom or the baby's room, Chucky made his way downstairs, each step thundering throughout the empty house. Making his way through the living room, Chucky heard a voice speaking and realized the TV had been left on.
"You know, a lot of kids are probably in church right now, trying to get right with their God," The clown on TV said solemnly. Then he suddenly brightened as he added. "For the rest of you, here's a new Itchy and Scratchy cartoon!"
The clown was suddenly replaced with a title card depicting a blue cartoon mouse and a black cartoon cat reading Slaying at the Workplace! In the cartoon, the black cat was working at a assembly line, screwing the heads on little dolls. The blue mouse suddenly appeared with a taller robotic version of himself and tapped the cat's shoulder.
"This robot's here to take your job!" The mouse said gleefully.
"But how will I pay the rent now?" The cat asked wearily.
"UNSAFE WORK CONDUCT DETECTED!"
The robot suddenly grabbed the cat by the throat, skinned him in a single pull and tossed the screaming mass of meat onto the conveyer belt. The now skinless feline endured all the usual procedures usually reserved for the dolls, getting two plastic eyes stabbed into his sockets, having blonde hair stapled into his skull and finally boxed into a machine that attached several doll limbs to his flesh and bones, resulting in a groaning, bloody mess plopping down at the end of the conveyer belt.
"Now what do we do about that?" The mouse asked his robot double as he pointed to the pelt in his hands. The robot responded by opening a compartment in its stomach and stashing the pelt inside. It went over to the now empty conveyer belt and started vomiting out little plush versions of the deceased cat, much to the mouse's approval.
"I like it!" He declared with a thumbs up.
"That is sick," Chucky commented. "To think they're showing this kind of shit to kids." He chuckled as he made his way into the kitchen. "Maybe this country's finally healing after all."
Chucky was certain that he would find what he was looking for in the kitchen. No household in America would be complete without them. He found most of the drawers in the kitchen were within his reach, much to his delight. He opened them one after the other, scoffing at cleaning supplies and one of Homer's snack stashes. Finally, he found what he was looking for in the drawer right next to the fridge.
Knives. And a whole lot of them.
"Jackpot!" He grinned. Just before he could reach for them, however, he heard the soft pitter-patter of paws entering the kitchen. Turning around, he saw a brown greyhound along with the cat he had tripped over earlier. Both of the animals seemed almost hypnotized by the doll standing before them, as if even in their simple pet minds, they could tell it was unnatural that a doll could walk and talk on its own.
Sensing there wasn't going to be much of a fight, Chucky lowered his head and brought it back with a loud "BOO!"
The dog yelped. The cat yowled. And both pets turned tail and ran off as Chucky howled with laughter.
"Ah, that old gag never gets old." Chucky turned back to the knives and pulled one out. It glimmered in the sunlight and as Chucky examined it, he could see half his face reflected in the stainless steel. In another time, this would have bothered him as it would have reminded him of his accursed situation. But now that he had fully-embraced being a doll, all this did was present an opportunity to check his teeth for stuck morsels. Once he was sure there was none, he snickered to himself. "This is going to be good!"
Just then, Chucky was startled by the sound of the window opening behind him. Turning around, he noticed a man's head peeking through the opening.
"Shit!" He cursed under his breath as he rushed to the living room.
"Ah, Sunday morning." Snake Jailbird took a deep breath as he crawled over the sink and into the kitchen. "The perfect opportunity for robbing religious folk. Ah ha!" He started rummaging through the kitchen in a similar manner to Chucky, only he was searching for jewels or hidden money rather than knives. When he noticed the knife drawer was open, he kicked it back in with a grunt before walking out of the kitchen.
"Now if I were a family's life savings, where would I be?" He asked as he scanned the room for any hidden safes. Suddenly, he was startled by a loud laughing sound to his left. Snake froze up as he searched frantically for the source of the sound, finally finding it as his eyes fell on a lone doll propped against the couch. Snake's surprise turned into quiet wonder as he slowly came to recognize the doll. "No way, is that a Good Guy Doll?"
Snake gently grabbed the doll and lifted it to eye-level. "I haven't seen one of these things since my old man sold mine for drug money." All sorts of childhood memories ran through Snake's mind, memories of tea parties and sleepover with his own plastic friend, Donny. Overwhelmed by nostalgia, the house robber wiped a single tear from his eye. "Do you, like have a name, little dude?"
The doll blinked. "I'm Chucky and you broke into the wrong house, motherfucker!" It said in a childish voice.
"Uh, what?" Snake asked in surprise, his confusion returning with a vengeance.
Chucky suddenly pulled a knife out of his overall pocket and, before Snake could so much as scream an expletive, rammed it into his left eye socket. Snake shouted but failed to let go of Chucky before the doll took his other eye out as well, laughing even as his head hit the couch. Snake continued to scream as he covered his now eyeless sockets with his hands, blood seeping between the cracks of his fingers.
"Dude, I'm like, totally blind!" He cried as he tripped over his feet and landed back in the kitchen, some of the blood pouring from his face splattering on the floor titles. He groaned as he picked his head up, his mind too foggy and his face in too much agony to hear the rapidly approaching footsteps from behind him. With a furious scream, Chucky suddenly jumped up on Snake's back and threw the jump rope he had pilfered from Lisa's room over his throat. The criminal gasped as he felt the rope tighten around his neck and clawed at it desperately. Chucky grabbed the two handles of the jump rope and pulled with all his might, squeezing Snake's windpipe close. Already too weak to turn on his back, Snake could only fruitless pull at the rope around his neck, only thinking of reaching a hand out for whoever was strangling him as he was already fading away. His fingers just inches from the doll's face, Snake Jailbird fell dead to the floor, the resulting thud marked by Chucky's insidious laughter.
"I said it once and I'll say it again." Chucky tightened his hands into fist. "Nothing like a strangulation to get the circulation going!" Another round of evil laughter escaped his chest as he stood over the body of his first victim in Springfield.
And he intended for there to be many, many more.
But first, to get rid of the body.
Chucky had a hell of a time finding the basement to the house and an ever worse time dragging Snake's eyeless carcass to it once he did. It took all his might and five minutes to push the body down the stairs. Once this ordeal was over, Chucky found he could drag the body a little easier now that some bones had been broken and stashed it beneath an old tarp. Not the best hiding place for a body but Chucky had a feeling the basement wasn't used a whole lot anyway.
Besides, it wouldn't be long at all before this family joined Snake beneath the tarp.
Chucky rushed back to the kitchen, took some cleaning supplies out from beneath the sink and cleaned off the blood stains. Fortunately for Chucky, the blood was still somewhat wet by time he returned to the kitchen and thus easier to wipe away. He stashed the cloth in his pocket and put the cleaning supplies away right as he heard the family pull into the driveway.
"Just in the nick of time," He commented. "I better head back. But first," He rushed toward the knife drawer and helped himself to a few more weapons. "Payment for my clean-up services." Chucky snickered as he closed the drawer and rushed back to Bart's room.
The Simpsons reentered their house, blissfully unaware that it was now a tomb.
"So then the ambulance packs Homer in, drives away from the gorge and, I jest you not, crashes into a tree! Homer goes rolling out of the ambulance and right into the damn gorge again!"
Chucky and Bart both burst into laughter. It was evening and Bart had practically swallowed his dinner whole in order to get back to his new friend
'You've got to be kidding me!" Chucky said as he wiped a tear from his eye. "How the actual hell does someone survive going down a gorge twice?"
"I don't know," Bart chuckled. "But Homer did. He might be a drunken fat idiot but he had a knack for surviving things that would kill most other people."
"Interesting," Chucky replied thoughtfully, part of him wanting to take Bart's words as a challenge.
And perhaps he would. When the time was right.
Before Bart could continue the conversation with the time that his prank landed Homer in the hospital with a coma, the door to his room opened and Lisa poked her head in.
"Bart, have you see my..."Uh..." Her gaze fell to the doll. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" Bart put his hands to his hips. "I've having a gentlemanly conversation with my good chum Charles."
"Charles?"
"Charles Lee Ray to be exact. He's a gangster!"
Lisa looked at the doll quizzically. "Right...Anyway, I wanted to ask if you seen my jump rope anywhere. I've been looking for it all day but I can't find it."
"Maybe Mom sucked it up with the vacuum on accident or something. Why don't you go ask her and let me and Charles continue our conversation?" He shooed her away with his hand as he said this.
Lisa groaned at her brother's unhelpfulness and slammed the door closed, leaving the boy and his doll alone to converse once more.
"I hope you don't mind me saying but your sister's kind of a drag." Chucky said.
"You said it," Bart agreed. "When God was passing out the genes to us Simpson kids, Lisa got all the boring ones." Bart scoffed. "She's probably just jealous because I have another friend in my circle and she's still at zero."
"If she's even half like you described, it's no wonder." Chucky laughed his ass off again with Bart joining him.
"Aha ha...yeah!...Oh yeah!" Bart suddenly brightened up. "I almost forgot!" Bart jumped off his bed and ducked down beneath it. After a few seconds of rummaging, he pulled out a small suitcase covered in stickers of Krusty the Clown. "Chucky, before we begin my lessons of darkness, I feel it's only right you understand my area of expertise." He turned the suitcase toward Chucky and cracked it open, revealing a treasure trove of pranking materials. Whoopie cushions, gag gum and fake vomit galore.
Chucky wasn't too impressed. But, in order to ensure Bart wasn't suspicious of him, he mentally replaced the pranking items with murder weapons and awed in wonder.
"This is my Holy Grail of Pranking," Bart continued. "Every single gag and trick I own is stored in here." He turned to the doll. "And tomorrow, I'm gonna show you the ins and outs of my claim to fame!"
"A prankster huh?" Chucky replied. "You know, The Devil's considered a trickster in a lot of stories himself. This just might be your ticket to the easy afterlife." He chuckled. "Provided you do it right."
"Oh I intend to!" Bart assured Chucky as he closed his suitcase and stashed it back beneath his bed. Once he got back up, he stretched with a yawn and went to turn off the light. "Well, I better hit the hay if I want to prank everyone's brains out tomorrow." He climbed under the covers. "Good night, Chucky. Tomorrow, those fools at school won't know what hit them!"
Chucky's gaze darkened as he turned over to where Bart had stashed the suitcase, his smile small and certain. "No," He whispered as Bart fell asleep. "They most certainly will not."
(As I said before, please leave a actual review)