Chapter 3: We Don't Need No Exsanguination

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Here's the third chapter and this is where things get really bloody! So a violence warning is in effect.)

It was 3 in the morning at the Simpson's residence. In a few hours, the family would be stirring about, Marge in the kitchen, the kids getting dressed in their rooms, Homer having fallen asleep on the toilet after just rising out of bed. But at this moment, near the dead of night, only a single being stirred in the house and he was currently in the basement, preparing for the day ahead in his own twisted way.

"Now you see this little screw over here?" The man on the Mypad said as he pointed to a shut-off joy buzzer. "Go ahead and stick in the ol screwdriver and give it a lil twirl!"

"And give it a little twirl!" Chucky repeated in a mocking voice as he held up the screwdriver he had pilfered from the garage to Bart's joy buzzer. "Freaking jackass." He unscrewed the bolt and pulled it away, allowing the back of the device to fall away.

"Now, you're gonna see a couple of wires inside," The man continued. "Now, and this is real important. Never cross the yellow wire with the green wire. That's a mighty good way to schedule a meeting with the Lord if you pardon my French."

"Shows what you know," Chucky muttered to himself as he grabbed a pair of tweezers and grabbed the yellow wire. He chuckled to himself as he pulled it over the green one and reattached it to another inlet. Satisfied, he closed the joy buzzer back up and screwed the bolt back in. He looked over the buzzer, careful not to press his thumb over the shiny red button. "Someone's certainly in for the shock of their lives tomorrow." Chucky felt like laughing but forced it down to a low giggle as he placed the joy buzzer back inside Bart's suitcase. With his hand on the top side of the case, he looked proudly at all the little toys he had tampered with. "This is gonna be good."

He slammed the suitcase shut.

A few hours later, the Simpson family was gathered around the kitchen table, gorging themselves on Marge's cooking. The sole exception was Lisa who, rather than the eggs and bacon her mother had prepared, stuck to her vegetarian diet with a bowl of Krusty-O's. As she lifted another spoonful toward her mouth, however, she couldn't help but notice the rather unusual sight of Bart sitting with Chucky in his lap.

"Come on, Chucky. Mom's eggs are the best!" Bart said as he shoved a handful of scrambled egg onto the doll's open mouth. The doll, of course, only responded with a turn of his head, a blink and one of his six cool sayings.

"I liked to be hugged."

"Um...Bart?"

"Yeah, Lis."

"Umm...what's...with the doll?"

To Lisa's surprise, Bart scoffed. "Geez, Lisa! I would think you of all people would make it a point to learn the names of the people in your life." He grabbed Chucky and placed the doll directly in front of him. "This is Charles Lee Ray, also known as Chucky." Bart peered out from behind the doll. "He's a stone cold gangster trapped in the body of a doll."

"So you've mentioned." Lisa placed the spoonful of cereal in her mouth as she continued. "Aren't you embarrassed to be playing with a doll right at the breakfast table?"

"Not with a cool dude like Chucky!" Bart replied. "Today, he and I are gonna raise some hell in Springfield Elementary!"

Lisa murmured with concern as Marge stepped up to Bart, an extra helping of bacon and eggs for him. "Well I think it's wonderful that Bart's using the birthday gift his father gave him. It just goes to show it doesn't matter what gift you get someone as long as it's from the heart, right Homer?"

"Huh?" Homer looked up from his nearly empty plate. "Yeah, yeah. Good for the boy! I'm kinda running out of bacon here, Marge!"

Marge went to fix up a few more strips for Homer as Bart continued to "feed" Chucky." Lisa watched the debacle as she slowly munched her cereal. "How could Bart go from wanting to turn that doll into firewood to sharing his breakfast with it? Something strange is going on here. Something really strange indeed."

The rest of breakfast went without incident, enough so that all of the Simpsons, Lisa included, wound up focusing solely on the food. Thus, no one noticed the egg Bart had smashed over Chucky's mouth vanishing without a trace.

The bus ride to school was about as comfortable for Bart as it had always been, save for the two-foot doll stashed in his backpack. Once he arrived on the grounds of Springfield Elementary, he made a mad dash for Groundskeeper Willie's shack. As Willie was still asleep inside the shack, it was locked but the groundskeeper had left a few of his spare pails outside his window.

Just what Bart wanted.

Grabbing one of the pails, he rushed inside the school and headed for the nearest water fountain. Once he found it, he placed both the pail and his backpack down and opened up the latter, allowing a gasping Chucky to finally breathe. "Gah!" The doll wheezed as he took in breath after frantic breath. "What the hell, kid? I may already be dead that doesn't mean I can't suffocate. Cut some damn air holes next time!"

"Sorry about that, Chuckster."

"Don't call me that."

"But I needed to keep you out of sight until we were inside the school." Bart shifted his gaze. "Principal Skinner has been cracking down on kids bringing their toys lately. If he catches you, it's a one-way ticket to the Confiscation Closet of No Return."

"Confiscation Closet huh?" Chucky chuckled. "Bet that got all sorts of weapons inside there."

"You bet ya but right now, while the coast is clear, let's start things off with a classic!" Bart placed the pail on the water fountain and started to fill it. It didn't take Chucky but two seconds to realize just what Bart was up to and once he did, the doll couldn't help but scoff.

"Y-You're kidding, right? The old pail-on-the-door shtick? Kid, that gag is older than I am!"

"What can I say? I like to take it back to the basics every now and then." Bart said as he pulled the now full pail off the water fountain with a groan. "Besides, you know what they say, a true classic never goes out of style."

Chucky sighed. "Well, I guess I can't argue with that."

"Quick! Come help me!" Bart said as he pulled his backpack and the pail to the nearest door. He placed the pail down again and pulled out all of his textbooks from the backpack, stacking them neatly near the door. "The one and only useful thing one could get from textbooks." He stepped on top of the books, grabbed the pail and gestured for Chucky to come to him. The doll scampered up to Bart who handed him the pail and and lifted him up by his sides With the extra boost provided by the books, Chucky was able to reach the top of the door.

"Alright, partner!" Bart whispered as he turned the door knob and pulled it open. "Nice and easy!"

"Relax, kid." Chucky whispered back. "Don't forget I'm older than you. I think I know how to...hey, isn't that that girl you like?" Chucky pointed in the direction that he and Bart had come from.

"W-Where?" Bart looked over his shoulder and Chucky snickered.

"Stupid kid," He muttered to himself as he turned to the pail of water. "You know, I had a feeling you might resort to something like this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the more interesting items he had found in Bart's room:

A packet of Krusty-brand portable cement mix.

"Guess it pays to be prepared." Chucky tore open the pack with his teeth and and snickered to himself as he poured the mix into the water. It was around this time that Bart had come to a realization.

"Hey, wait a minute! I don't like any girls right now! They all have cooties!" Bart looked up as Chucky with a slightly annoyed expression on his face. "You made me look!"

"Oh, lighten up, pal! It was just an old gag." Chucky said as he placed the pail on the doorway. "And look, we got the pail all set up."

This served to brighten Bart's mood. "Alright!"

Just then, the school bell rang.

"Oh geez That was the first bell! We better get gone!" Bart set Chucky down and shoved his textbooks back into his backpack. Chucky crossed his arms as he watched Bart do this.

"I'm not gonna have to go back in there again, am I?"

"Nah, you can stay out." Bart said as he zipped up the backpack and swung it over his shoulders. "But if anyone ask, I'm using you to practice ventriloquism."

"Heh. You can try it, kid. But no one make a dummy of of the Chuck!"

Bart scooped Chucky back in his arms and carried him over to Miss Krabappel's class. By the time he got there, more than half the class was already waiting on the side to be let in. All eyes fell on Bart as he whistled the Krusty the Clown show theme with Chucky in his arms and took his place at the end of the line. Milhouse and Nelson both happened to be there as well.

"Hey Bart," Milhouse greeted. "What's with the doll?"

"Depending on your answer, I may have to pound you!" Nelson added as he punched his palm.

"I'm Chucky and this is my partner Bart." The doll replied in his cutesy programmed voice. "He's a real dummy."

"Hey, you're the dummy!" Bart spoke up, realizing what Chucky was doing and playing along as best he could.

Chucky turned his head toward Bart. "No, you're the dummy!"

"No, you!"

"No, you!"

"No, you are!"

"No, you are!"

"No, you're the dummy!"

"I'm the dummy!"

"No, you're not! I'm the dummy!...D'oh!"

The line of kids erupted into laughter at Bart's antics, compelling both him and Chucky to take a bow. It was around this time that Edna Krabappel opened the door. "What the hell's all the commotion abo-"

She stopped herself as she noticed Bart with the doll in his arms. She sighed and uttered. "I don't even wanna know." before gesturing for the children to enter her classroom. Everyone managed to take their seats right as the tardy bell rang. She took her own seat at her desk and helped herself to a cigarette before addressing her class. "Alright, class. It was Oscar Wilde who said to expect the unexpected so here's something none of you were expecting," She reached inside the drawers of her desk and pulled out a stack of papers. "A pop quiz!"

The class groaned in annoyance with the sole exception of Martin who pumped his fist instead.

"Ha!" Edna got up from her seat and picked up the stack of papers as she walked to the front of the class. "And I want all eyes on me while I'm passing your test. No talking. No chewing gum." She turned to Bart with narrowed eyes. "And no dummies!"

"You're the boss, Ms. K!" Bart moved to place Chucky on the floor, but not before whispering in his ear. "Grab the whoopie cushion from my backpack and give Ms. K the biggest surprise of her life!"

"Roger," Chucky whispered back as Bart sat him down at the foot of his desk. With all eyes fixed on Edna as she started to pass out the tests, Chucky was free to reach inside of Bart's backpack and pull out his whoopie cushion. Being careful not to squeeze it, he crawled beneath the desk before him toward Edna's desk. He took one final look around to ensure that he wasn't being watched and scampered beneath her desk to her chair. Chucky stood up in front of the chair and began to inflate the whoopie cushion. As he inflated it, Chucky heard a light scraping sound from inside the cushion and smiled to himself. It would seem his own little addition into Bart's toy was fitting in nicely.

Once he was done, Chucky carefully set the whoopie cushion on the chair and crawled back beneath the desk. From within the darkness beneath it, he watched as Edna walked up to Bart's desk, her eyes narrow with suspicion.

"Where's your dummy, Bart?" She asked.

"Um.." Bart tented his fingers as he racked his brain for an answer. "H-He went to the bathroom?"

"Without a bathroom pass?" Edna pressed.

"Hey, lay off him. It's his first day." Bart replied.

Edna sighed and set Bart's test before him. As she continued on to the next desk, Chucky made his move and rolled out from between her desk. He once again went unnoticed by the kids sitting before Bart as he came to a stop in front of the Simpson child's desk. He uncurled himself and chuckled as he presented Bart with a thumbs up. The boy returned the favor with a chuckle of his own and watched as his plastic partner in crime sat next to his desk, let his arms droop at his sides and adopted his lifeless expression. Bart clasped his hands together with another evil chuckle as he waited for his teacher to finish passing out the tests.

Once Edna slapped the last sheet of paper on Martin's desk, she trudged back to her own. "Alright, you know the drill." She muttered as she prepared to sit down. "No talking. No chewing gum. No funny doodles or wiseass answers on the test." She stopped to turn to Bart. "This means you, Simpson."

Bart gulped.

"Just sit down, shut up and try to make a grade above-"

As Edna was speaking, she happened to sit down on the whoopie cushion. Normally, this would result in a loud, whooping sound that would send the class into hysterics while making Edna wish she had taken that job teaching dining etiquette at a clothing-optional resort when she had the chance. This time, however, there was no whooping sound. Just a almost silent hissing accompanied by a crunch. What caught the classes' attention this time was the sudden gasp their teacher uttered, high-pitched and with a tiny hint of a whine following it. Rather than laughter, they reacted to this, as well as Edna's sudden pained expression, with confusion and even fear.

"Ms. Krabappel." Martin raised his hand. "Are you alright?"

"I...I'm fine, Martin." Edna lied. "I just...I think I pulled something." Edna's eyes seem to widen at that moment. Unbeknownst to the class, she felt a liquid warmth flow from her and as she looked down, she noticed a line of blood flowing from her seat. Fighting the urge to panic, she pressed her hands against the desk and tried to prop herself up, wincing in pain as she did so.

"Ms. Krabappel," Martin spoke. "With all due respect, you seem to be in excruciating discomfort. Let some of us help you to the nurse's office!"

"N-No!" Edna shook her head as she tried to prop herself up again. "I'm fine. You just focus on the test." Her voice was strained and as she tried and failed to prop herself up a few more times, the rest of the class began to worry. After a few more tries, Edna finally got to her feet which also thrust her into a world of agony. "C-Class," She spoke as she fought to keep her footing. "I-I'm going to step out for a bit. J-Just focus on your tests." With this, she side-stepped toward the door, keeping her back to the chalkboard. As she limped, droplets of blood trickled down the back of her legs and dripped onto the floor. By the time any of the students noticed the red droplets, however, Edna had already stepped out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her.

"Oh my God!" Milhouse pointed to the droplets on the floor. "Ms. Krabappel's bleeding to death!"

"I honestly can't tell if that's an exaggeration or not." Martin added.

As the class began to murmur to themselves regarding what happened, the lion's share of confusion and guilt went to Bart who was still trying to understand how his prank went wrong. "H-How did that happen? How could a whoopie cushion make Ms. Krabappel bleed like that? D-Did I do that to her? No, calm down, Bart. There's no way a stupid whoopie cushion could hurt someone like that. There's gotta be a rational explanation for this. M-Maybe Ms. Krabappel's got stabbed in the butt yesterday and the whoopie cushion reopened the wound! Yeah, that's it! That's gotta be-"

"Hey! Check it out!" Nelson voice ripped Bart away from his thoughts. While everyone else was talking, the fair-weather bully got out of his seat and approached Edna's desk. It was there that he made a grisly discovery on her chair, a discovery he pointed to at once. The bulk of the class, Bart included, wasted no time jumping from their desk and rushing to see what Nelson was pointing at.

On Edna's chair lay the deflated remains of Bart's whoopie cushion. Sticking out from the rubbery mass, coated in blood, were a bunch of nails.

Bart's blood ran cold as he laid eyes on the nails. Nails that looked just like the ones in his father's garage.

"Oh my God!" Sherri cried out. "Someone set this up to cut up Ms. Krabappel's butt!"

"But who would do such a thing?" Terri asked.

"I can think of someone!" Nelson said as he turned to Bart who gulped as the rest of the class followed suit. The only son of Homer Simpson found himself surrounded by the judgmental glares of his classmates.

"W-What are you guys looking at me for?" Bart asked. "I-I didn't do this!"

"Who else uses whoopie cushions anymore?" Sherri challenged.

"Yeah!" Terri backed her sister up!"

"Come on, guys!" Bart pleaded. "You know me! I love pranking but I would never take things this far! Why would I stick a bunch of nails into a whoopie cushion?"

"I don't know," Nelson suddenly grabbed Bart's shirt and yanked him forward, raising a single fist. "Why did you stick a bunch of nails into a whoopie cushion, Bart!?"

"B-But I...I didn't..."

At that moment, a bloodcurdling scream erupted from the hallways outside. The bulk of the class assumed at once that it had to be Ms. Krabappel and rushed out of the classroom to help her, Nelson even dropping Bart on his ass to join in. Bart rubbed his behind as he watched his classmates leave the room and, upon hearing some light footsteps approaching, turned to see Chucky coming over. "You alright, kid?" He asked in a somewhat insincere voice. "They looked like they were about to draw and quarter ya."

"Tell me about it." Bart groaned as he turned back to the bloody seat. "I just don't get it. How the hell could a bunch of nails end up inside a whoopie cushion?"

"Sometimes, factories have to spread out in terms of goods in order to stay afloat." Chucky explained. "And every so often, those two products just get mixed up together. I'm willing to bet the same the same factory that made that whoopie cushion also manufactures iron nails." Chucky scoffed. "You see Bart, this is why you always buy American."

"Maybe you're right." Bart replied as he continued to stare sadly at the nails. "Still..." Bart's thoughts were taken over by the sound of screaming and shouting from outside. "What the hell's going on out there?"

"I don't know," Chucky replied with a sneer. "Maybe Ms. Krabappel bit the big one in the hallway." He chuckled darkly as he said this.

"Dude, not funny!" Bart groaned and grabbed Chucky by the arm. "Come on, let's check it out!"

Before Chucky could argue, Bart pulled the doll along with him as he ran out into the hallway. Once outside, he heard the commotion coming from down the hall and followed it. As he neared the gathering mass of students, a sick feeling formed in the pit of his stomach as he realized he was returning to the same stretch of hallway he had laid his water pail trap not even an hour ago. He recognized the door before the crowd and it was wide open, the pail nowhere in sight. Unease growing at a alarming rate, Bart awkwardly pushed and shoved himself through the crowd until he was at the front of it. Then and only then could he see the grisly sight that had everyone's attention.

Groundskeeper Willie lay on the floor before the crowd of students, the upper half of his body laying in the room before and the other half out in the hallway. A puddle of blood had formed from the huge gash on the side of his head and about a foot behind it, a somewhat dented pail laid on its side. Its opening was tilted toward the crowd, and as Bart studied it for a moment, he realized with growing horror that the entire inside of the pail was filled with dried cement. There was no movement in Willie's body to indicate that the gruff groundskeeper was still alive.

"Aye Caramba!" Bart choked up as he backed away in terror. He didn't move back very far before suddenly hitting a grown-up pair of legs. Gulping, he turned around and looked up to find himself locking gazes with a very stern, very displeased Principal Skinner.

"Bart Simpson, what is the meaning of this?" He asked in a low but firm voice.

"B-But I didn't do it! I swear!" Bart's voice cracked up a little as he said this, his entire world unfurling in a matter of minutes.

"Don't play dumb with me, young man!" Principal Skinner shouted. "First, Ms. Krabappel has to be sent to the hospital with nails in her...um...body. And now Groundskeeper Willie is laying unconscious on the floor with a grievous head wound! And from what I've heard the other students say and what I can see before me at this very moment, it's clear both of them fell victim to your vicious pranks!"

"It's true!" Sherri shouted as she pointed to Bart. "Bart rigged the nails to cut up Ms. Krabappel's butt!"

"He's gone totally psycho!" Lewis shouted.

"Fellas! Fellas! Please!" Bart pleaded to the crowd. "Look, I understand the suspicion, being the undisputed king of the pranksters and all that. But I would never rig my pranks to hurt people like this! Honest! Something really, really wrong is going on here!" Bart's heart sank as he saw nothing but looks of distrust and fear on the faces of everyone around him. The children either glared at him or looked away in fear. Even Milhouse was making it a point to avoid eye contact which prompted Bart to run up to him and grab him by the shoulders. "Milhouse! Come on, man! You know me!"

"Do I, Bart?" Milhouse asked as he rolled his eyes toward Bart. "Do I?"

Bart's lips trembled as he let go of Milhouse's shoulders. "No one believes me!" He thought. "Everyone thinks I did it!"

Bart's thoughts were interrupted by Skinner pulling him by his shoulders and turning him around. "Young man, you've pulled some outrageous stunts over the years but this is the straw that's broken the proverbial camel's back!" It was then that Skinner noticed the doll Bart was hanging on to and pulled it out of his grasp. "Give me that!"

"Hey! Careful with Chucky!" Bart replied. "He's my friend."

"You-Your friend?" Skinner held the doll up to eye level. "A boy with a doll for a friend in this day and age." He shook his head. "What is this world coming to?"

Chucky blinked. "Hi. I'm Chucky! Wanna play?"

"Gyah!" Skinner exclaimed in disgust. He tucked the doll beneath his arms and turned his attention back to Bart. "Young man, you have detention for the rest of the week, starting this very moment! I will also be calling your parents to inform them of this disturbing chain of events!"

"But-But..!"

"Furthermore, as per the rules of this school regarding our no toy policy, I will be confiscating this so-called Chucky." Skinner glared at the doll as he said this. "Are we clear?"

"But I...You don't..."

"Are we clear, Simpson!?" Skinner repeated in a far more harsher tone than he usually used on Bart. It was clear the fact that Edna being hurt the way she had affected him greatly.

Realizing there was no other choice but to comply, Bart sighed as he hung his head low. "Yes, sir."

"Good! Now march to the detention hall at once and don't even think of escaping! I invested in a actual security camera inside that classroom instead of those painted mailboxes with a spyglass inside.

Just then, one of these "cameras" fell from the corner of the hallway and crumbled upon contact with the ground.

"Go on, Simpson!" Skinner said. "And pray to whatever deity you believe in that I find a amoeba of mercy within me by the time I get back to my office."

Bart sighed and began his solemn march toward the detention hall. He was painfully aware of all the eyes burning his back with their judgmental gazes and dared not turn to meet them. The hallway seemed to go deathly silent with only his footsteps echoing throughout. He hung his head low and closed his eyes, racking his brain again and again for an answer as to just how the hell his harmless little pranks could go so wrong.

Chucky watched as Bart turned the corner of the hallway and blinked.

After assigning a substitute to Ms. Krabappel's class and helping the paramedics load Willie onto the ambulance, Principal Skinner retired to his office with Chucky still tucked beneath his arm. He closed the door behind him and marched toward another door at the right of his desk. Once the permanent records room, it now doubled as the dumping ground for all confiscated goods. In other words, the Confiscation Closet of No Return.

Skinner unlocked the door with his passkey and entered. Lining either side of the room were metal shelves filled to the brim with all sorts of toys, weapons and offensive reading martials. Skinner scanned either side of the shelves for a place to dump Chucky and settled for a empty spot between a box of unused fireworks and a stack of manga which Skinner confirmed contained copious amounts of female nudity. He slammed the doll face-first onto the shelf, nodded with a gruff "Mm Hm!" and stormed back out, closing and locking the door behind him.

Now with the doll out of the way, Skinner could focus on calling Bart's parents and letting them know about the violent evolution of his pranking. Yet, even as he sat behind his desk and pushed speed dial for Marge Simpson, he couldn't help but just feel the slightest bit of sadness over the situation. "That poor boy." He thought. "If he could have just applied even half of the effort he puts into these pranks into his schoolwork, there's no doubt he would have had a bright future ahead of him. But now, after today, I'm afraid that will never be." Skinner placed his old-fashioned phone to his ear and listened to it ring as he waited for Marge Simpson to answer. Before she could, however, Skinner was distracted by another, much closer sound:

The sound of knocking.

He looked up to his front door and examined the glass window on it for someone's face but there was no one there. After a few seconds, he heard the knocking again, far closer to him than the front door. To his great confusion, he realized the knocking was coming from the Confiscation Closet. "What in Sam's Hill?" He placed the phone back on the receiver just as Marge's voice finally broke through.

"Hello?" *CLICK*

Skinner stood up in his desk and waited for a few moments, part of him trying to convince the rest that he had only imagined the knocking due to the stress he was under at the moment. A third round of knocking debunked that theory and Skinner gulped as he reached beneath his desk and pulled out a ruler. "Alright, young man or young lady perhaps, I don't know how you got in there but you'd best address yourself immediately!"

The knocking stopped and Skinner was left in a room of deafening silence. He stood completely still, ruler in hand and sweat beginning to form on his forehead. After a few moments, he decided to take the initiative. "Alright, I gave you a chance to come quietly of your own volition, yet you chose to try and hide in silence. Just remember you were given a choice." He said gravely as he stepped toward the closet door. He took out his passkey and and unlocked it once again. He slowly opened the door and peered his head inside first. Nothing seemed to be out of place at the moment, aside from the stack of pervy manga laying on the floor. Skinner noticed it at once and stepped inside the closet with the ruler held high. "Alright! I've had enough of this playing around! You will show yourself this instant!"

Skinner waited for the intruder to reveal themselves but they did not. He growled in frustration as he stepped further into the closet toward the manga. With the ruler still in hand, he fixed up the stack and placed it back on the shelf. "I'm going to give you one last chance to show yourself." He spoke to the air. "I'm going to count to ten and if you don't turn yourself in by the time I reach one, your punishment will be doubled...no...tripled!" Skinner chuckled darkly to himself for he was certain that he had the intruder shaking in their shoes. With the ruler held in both hands like a sword, Skinner began his countdown. "10...9...8...7..." As Skinner was counting down, he happened to turn back to the manga he had picked up as something in his mind told him something was amiss. He failed to realized what this was until he looked to the right of the stack and noticed the empty space between the stack and the fireworks.

Chucky was missing.

Skinner only had time to gasp in surprise before he heard a violent, guttural yelling behind him, followed by the searing pain of something slashing his right tendon. Shouting in pain, Skinner fell to the floor with a thud, dropping his ruler in the process. It slid beneath the left shelf, just out of his reach. He broke his nose upon contact with the ground and groaned in pain as fresh blood pooled from its bridge. After a few seconds, Skinner forced himself to lift up his head, just in time to hear small footsteps behind him. Turning his head, Skinner beheld a most unusual and somehow terrifying sight.

Chucky, the very same toy he had confiscated from Bart Simpson, looming over his feet with a bloody switchblade in his hands and his face twisted into the most evil sneer Principal Skinner had ever seen in his entire life.

"W-What in God's name?" Skinner choked up as the doll took a step toward him. His eyes frantically scanned for any wires or microchips that might be controlling the doll, making it move somehow but there was none.

"You've been very naughty, Principal Skinner." Chucky said, his eyes rolling to the side as they took on a thoughtful form. "Skinner. Now that's an interesting name. Where do you think it comes from?

"I...I don't..."

"Because my mind just can't help but conjure the image of a fur trapper, tearing the hides off of small woodland creatures." Chucky continued as he examined his switchblade. "It's giving me a few...creative ideas..."

Skinner gulped. "W-While that is certainly an, uh, interesting theory to the origins of my last name, I must insist you stop this madness at once, young man or...doll."

Skinner tensed up as Chucky howled in insidious laughter. "Y-You know, the problem with that is that I have a...a sorta addiction."

"Addiction?"

"Yeah, it's like a wise man once said. Murder is a lot like potato chips." Chucky raised the switchblade over his head. "You can't stop at just one!"

"Oh egads!" Skinner cried as Chucky howled in fury and rushed toward him with the switchblade. Thinking back to his days as a Green Beret, Skinner waited until the doll got close enough and, with his good leg, kicked the doll over himself. Chucky's vengeful battle cry turned into a surprised yell as he flew over the down principal and landed with a thud above his Skinner's head. Seizing his chance, Skinner fought through the pain of his sliced tendon and started crawling toward the door. He intended to make it out before the doll could get back up and lock the door behind him before dialing 911. It seemed like a solid plan to the principal, even as he groaned in agony with each time he pushed against the floor and dragged his lower body behind him.

Unfortunately, he didn't count on Chucky recovering so quickly with only a bloody nose for his troubles. The doll took a moment to wipe the blood from his nostrils before roaring in fury and charging the principal again. In his haste to make another kill, however, Chucky failed to notice the smeared puddle of blood left behind by Skinner and comically slipped in it, landing on his back.

Skinner took notice of this setback and hastened his dragging toward the door, even as his right leg was aflame with pain.

Chucky sat up and shook his head, spraying some of the blood over the other objects resting on the shelves. He got to his feet, careful to plant them where the blood was mostly dried and charged toward Skinner again. The principal heard the doll's thudding footsteps and, thinking quickly, grabbed a nearby box of bibles and other religious objects and pulled it down after him. Chucky stepped back as the box fell, narrowly avoiding getting crushed by it. He stared in frustrated confusion at the box for a few moments before turning back to Skinner who by this point was right in front of the door, his shaky hand reaching for the knob. With a vicious cry, Chucky chucked the switchblade toward Skinner's hand, impaling it to the door. The principal screamed in agony as blood trickled from the top of his hand, his pain only increasing as he tried in vain to pull it free.

Chucky laughed at the principal's misery until he remembered that he was now without a weapon. Scanning the shelves on either side of him, Chucky's eyes fell upon a yellow and black utility knife. He awed like a child in a candy store as he stepped up to the shelf and gently took the knife in his hands, snickering as he pushed up the slider and watched the blade unsheathe itself like the claw of a giant cat. He looked up to the still struggling Skinner and whistled the tune of The Ants Go Marching as he calmly and slowly strolled toward him, sidestepping the box the principal had knocked down. Skinner froze the moment he heard the doll whistling, saw him coming, and summoned what remained of his strength to grip the switchblade with his good hand and pull. The pain proved to be too much, however, and as he struggled, it seemed all Skinner was accomplishing was ruining his stuck hand. Despite this, he kept trying and trying until at last, Chucky's shadow loomed over him like a specter of Death itself. Gulping, Skinner turned again to see the doll right in front of him, holding the knife over his head.

"Nooooo!" Skinner screamed with trembling lips.

"School's out, Skinner!" Chucky screamed as he brought the knife down on Skinner's face. His maniacal laughter drowned out Skinner's agonized screams as blood flowed from beneath the closet door.

Bart listened as the final bell of the school day rang and the children all screamed in delight as they herded through the hallways outside. He groaned as he turned back to the front desk where his teacher for the day sat with his head buried in a book. Bart didn't know the teacher well, he was just some poor sap that Skinner had assigned to detention duty at the last minute. Of course, with Bart being the only one here today, there wasn't much for either of them to do but sit and wait. For the teacher, the wait was for the day to end. For Bart, it was for Skinner to call him to the office where his parents were waiting. Bart had been waiting for that moment in dread, unsure of just how the hell he was going to explain himself.

But now the final bell was ringing and that intercom call never came.

Part of Bart wanted to feel relief for this but the rest of him felt only worry. "There's no way Skinner would just change his mind about something like this. Did something happen to him too?"

Before Bart could ponder this mystery further, his attention was stolen by the sound of a pebble hitting the window. Bart turned to see Chucky's plastic hand waving to him from outside. Bart checked to make sure the old man at the front desk was still reading, tiptoed toward the window and opened it slightly. "Chucky? What are you doing out here? If the principal catches you-"

"Oh relax, Bart." Chucky interrupted. "Principal Skinrash got called away on some other business and left me in the closet. It took all day but I finally managed to escape."

"And get some useful tools in the process."

"Now what do you say we bust this pop stand and head home? We can play Bonestorm."

"B-But it's detention! I can't just leave!" Bart answered.

"Aye Bart." Chucky clucked as his shook his head and placed his arms on his sides. "I'm so disappointed in you. You're not acting like a future prince of Hell right now. Do you think I stayed in detention when I was a kid, just because the teachers told me too?"

Bart still seemed uncertain. "But...Skinner..."

"Is gone for the day. Trust me. By tomorrow, everyone would have forgotten about this whole thing." Chucky walked up to the window and propped himself over the sill, allowing him to look inside. "Besides, something tells me your supervisor won't even notice you gone." Chucky pointed to the old man sitting on the front desk and as Bart turned to him, he noticed he was asleep, the book over his face. "So what do you say, partner?" Chucky asked as Bart turned back to him.

Bart pondered his options for a moment. "I say..." Screw school!" Bart went to grab his backpack, opened the window all the way and climbed outside. Chucky let go of the sill and stepped back as Bart landed on his butt. The doll chuckled a bit as Bart rubbed his behind. "Alright," The boy groaned as he got back up and opened his backpack. "Sorry Chucky but you have to go in this time, just in case Skinner shows up."

Chucky sighed. "Fine. But don't close the bag all the way. I need some air."

"Gotcha!" Bart laid his backpack down and let Chucky climb inside. Once the doll was secure, he zipped up the backpack, making sure to leave it open near the end. He got up and had just put on the backpack when he heard footsteps approaching from behind. Gulping, Bart braced himself for another verbal trashing from Skinner and turned around to face the newcomer.

As it turned out, the newcomer was none other than Milhouse.

"M-Milhouse?" Bart asked. "W-What are you doing here?"

"Um...I go to school here." Milhouse answered with a cocked eyebrow.

"Oh! R-Right right!" Bart chuckled nervously.

It was then that Milhouse turned nervous, scratching the back of his head as he turned away from Bart. "Actually, Bart. The truth is, I...I wanted to apologize."

Bart was taken aback. "A-Apologize?"

"About earlier today." Milhouse said. "I did some thinking and I realized you were right. You hate the teachers but you're not a psycho! You'd never rig your pranks to hurt people like that. Not in a million years!"

"That...That's right! I wouldn't."

"I also remembered the Radioactive Man Comic I read last weekend." Milhouse continued. "The one where Dr. Crab created a evil clone of Radioactive Man to frame him for all those bank robberies! It got me thinking, someone as cool as Bart is bound to have a lot of enemies. Maybe, just maybe, one of them is trying to frame you by sabotaging your pranks!"

Bart pondered this for a moment. The more he considered Milhouse's theory, the more it made sense. "Hey...yeah! Someone's framing me! That's gotta be it!"

"And whoever they are, we'll find them together!" Milhouse declared, only to get nervous again. "That is, if you'll have me!" He reached out his right hand to Bart, hoping to recement their friendship.

Bart chuckled as he, without turning away from Milhouse, reached into his backpack's opening and pulled out his joy buzzer. As relieved as he was that Milhouse was back on his side, he still needed to be punished for throwing him to the wolves like he did. A simple jolt should do it. Bart slipped the joy buzzer over his right hand and offered it to Milhouse. "Oh Milhouse, you know I could never stay mad at you."

The blue-haired boy smiled at his friend's apparent forgiveness and offered no hesitation in taking his hand. Bart was already laughing even before Milhouse started to convulse and twitch in place. The laughter stopped as soon as he saw smoke coming from Milhouse's hair.

"Milhouse?"

Bart tried to let go of his friend but in his convulsions, Milhouse increased his grip enough to hurt Bart. He continued to thrash about, spots of black appearing all over his body, his teeth clenched with mouth foaming and hair standing upright even as it began to catch fire. Bart whimpered as he continued to try and pull away from his frying friend, only able to get free when Milhouse let go of his hand and fell dead to the ground.

"Milhouse!" Bart rushed up to his friend and shook him. "Milhouse! Answer me!"

Milhouse's glasses fell from his face as Bart shook him, allowing the spiky-haired boy to see the burned-out smoking sockets of his face, oozing the white and red liquid that used to be his eyes. Bart screamed as he fell on his back. He whimpered as he crawled backward, his mind once again a fretful scramble. He was on the verge of a panic attack and might have just had it had he not heard the voices of some chatting girls coming over. Forcing himself to be calm for the time being if barely, Bart gripped the shoulder straps of his backpack tightly and ran off, fighting each and every urge he had to look back, even as he heard the bloodcurdling screaming.

From inside the panicking boy's backpack, Chucky clasped both hands over his mouth, fighting back his thunderous laughter.

(I will say this again. Only ACTUAL reviews will be appreciated. I don't want any of your lame ass art.)