Crandall's office, 3:00 p.m.

Samantha dragged the sleeping body away, leaving it to lean on her bookshelf. She then sat down and tented her fingers in a way that reminded Marge of Mr. Burns.

"So you got my letter, huh?" Samantha said as Marge took a seat, Maggie trying to escape from her arms.

"Well, yes." Marge nervously looked around. Her eyes focused on the snoring woman before Samantha snapped her fingers.

"Hey, look at me."

"Oh, right, yes. Sorry—"

"Question #1." Samantha brought out a red clipboard. "Why did you book a meeting? Do you have any important discussions or you just want to waste my time and chitchat in your room?"

Yikes, Marge thought. I never imagined it'd be like this.

"Well, it has something to do with a dream."

"A dream?" Samantha laughed. "A dream? Is that why you're here?"

"A very important dream."

"And what's it about?"

"Room 13."

Samantha suddenly stopped laughing and stared right into Marge's face. "Room 13? Oh, boy, this better be good."

Samantha leaned back in her seat as Marge explained the dream to her.

"Wait, so you're saying that the VCR explodes?" Samantha tented her fingers again. "If I were you, I'd rather come on 2:59 or 3:01 so that the meeting wouldn't be approved."

"But how am I supposed to know if the dream's real?" Marge asked as Maggie slipped from her arms and tried to escape.

"That's..." Samantha looked around anxiously. "...that's a question for another day."

"Then could you at least tell me who those people were?"

"Well, let's see." Samantha brought out a laptop. "Give me the keywords and I'll search my database."

"You stalk everyone?" Marge craned her neck to see the screen, so Samantha jerked the laptop away in response.

"In a manner of speaking, kind of. Anyway, the first person."

"Coat and kimono, vines around the arms and legs, ribbon in her hair."

"Huh?" Nezuko woke up, utterly dumbfounded. "What do you mean—"

Samantha's laptop beeped. "Two matches. Nezuko Kamado and...Nezuko Kamado?"

"What the—" Marge stood up and walked to Samantha's chair. There were indeed two matches, both of them the exact same person.

Nezuko sighed as she clumsily stood up. "One of them is a clone."

Samantha looked at her. "A clone—but that's impossible—"

"Project Moonlight."

"What's Project Moonlight?" a skeptical Marge asked.

"A top-secret initiative focused on separating the multiple personalities of the test subjects," Maggie said out of the blue. "Apparently, Nezuko is test subject #46..." her voice trailed off as Nezuko, Marge, and Samantha looked at her in bewilderment.

D'oh, Maggie thought as she ran off, climbed down the staircases, and drove off in Marge's car.

"Huh. That was weird." Nezuko looked at the laptop. "Here's how you know that double is not me."

She pulled down her sleeve, showing the green vines around her arm. "The clone's vines are red."

Samantha went back to her database's homepage. "Who's next, Marge—"

Marge was gone. She had climbed down the staircase.

Samantha stood up. "Nezuko, would you cover your ears for a moment?"

Nezuko quickly obeyed as Samantha took a deep breath and yelled "F—"

Springfield Meeting Center ground floor, 3:34 p.m.

Jesus, you didn't have to go that far! Marge thought as she covered her ears, ran out, and followed the road to her house.

742 Evergreen Terrace, 3:36 p.m.

Maggie sped three times over the speed limit—despite the fact her feet could not reach the pedals—and jumped out of the orange car before it got totaled in a crash with the garage wall.

In the living room, Bart and Lisa jumped.

"Mom doesn't drive that fast!" Bart ran to the crash site.

"Mom wasn't in the car!" Lisa pointed at Maggie lying sprawled on the floor.

"Holy crap, Maggie, what did you do?" Bart knelt down and picked her up.

"I accidentally talked while in her meeting with Crandall!"

"Oh sh—" Bart nearly cursed before Homer ran out of the house and examined the orange station wagon.

"Kids!" Homer angrily turned towards the three of them. "Which one of you wrecked your mom's car?"

Both Bart and Lisa pointed toward Maggie.

"Why you lying little—" Homer strangled Bart. Lisa, on the other hand, was trying to get Homer to release his grip.

"It wasn't Bart's fault, Dad, it was the baby's!"

"Did he put you up to this?"

All of a sudden, Homer's hands jerked away from Bart's neck. Maggie walked forward and faced Homer. "It was my fault, Dad."

Homer screamed in terror. "A spirit has possessed you! Uh...uh..." He tried to dig out Latin words from his brain. "Uh...annuit coeptis...novus ordo seclorum!"

"Dad, Maggie isn't possessed!" Bart picked Maggie up and held her close to Homer's face.

"Uh...si vis pacem...para bellum...aintus afraidus no-ghostus..."

"Dad, she can talk!" Lisa yelped.

"Save her, Jebus! Save her!" Homer ran inside and somehow managed to find a crucifix. He brandished it in front of a confused Maggie.

Just then, Marge came running toward the house. Seeing her wrecked car, Homer's crucifix, and the kids' worried faces, she ran faster and dived to strangle Maggie.

"Mom, what're you doing?" Lisa wrestled Marge's slender arms off Maggie's neck.

"Wait—what am I doing?" Marge looked at her trembling hands, which flew to her throat a few moments later. The kids tried to get the hands off, attracting many passersby.

Helen Lovejoy pointed at the scene. "Those children are trying to choke their mother!"

An obviously bored Reverend Lovejoy, however, refused to believe this. "I've seen this from the start. She's choking herself."

Many people gasped.

Comic Book Guy simply approached Marge. "Surely you know this is an act, right? Look." He tried to yank Marge's hands away, but they remained fixed on her neck. "Get—off—you stupid—"

"Listen!" Lisa held her hands up. "This is not an act! Anyone who knows how to stop this, come forward!"

Only Dr. Hibbert emerged from the crowd. After many seconds, he mustered the strength to finally pull Marge's hands away from her throat.

"Now," Marge wheezed, "why can the baby talk?" She turned toward Bart. "Is this one of your pranks?"

Four men in hooded red robes came forward. Bart's eyes widened and he chanted in Latin to make a barrier, preventing them from interfering.

The hooded figures, however, chanted a countercurse. They got closer.

Bart—and unexpectedly, Maggie—began to float, screaming.

Crandall's office, 3:59 p.m.

A loud alarm went off on Samantha's laptop immediately. "Oh, crud." She turned in her seat and noticed a beacon of red light in 742 Evergreen Terrace. She brought out a walkie-talkie.

"Van Houten, come in. This is the boss. It's a Code 18-12."

316 Pikeland Avenue, 4:02 p.m.

Kirk Van Houten was arguing with his ex-wife Luann, whose house he had managed to move into without her knowledge. Milhouse was covering his ears.

"Well, did Milhouse help you move in here? You know we're divorced!"

"Not even Milhouse knew!"

Kirk's walkie-talkie buzzed on the dining table. "Van Houten, come in. This is the boss. It's a Code 18-12." Kirk sprinted to the table and picked it up.

"Code 18-12? Where?"

"742 Evergreen Terrace."

"The Simpson residence? Again?"

"Just get to work, Van Houten, we haven't got all day."

"Kirk?" Luann put her hands on her hips. "Who is that? Is that your girlfriend?"

"She's Samantha Crandall!"

Luann scoffed. "Samantha Crandall—what a bad choice for a girlfriend."

"She isn't my girlfriend, she's my freaking boss!"

"Wow, what a terrible excuse! Isn't that right, Milhouse?"

Milhouse retreated to his room.

"VAN HOUTEN, YOU GO TO 742 EVERGREEN TERRACE OR YOU'RE FIRED!" Samantha's voice yelled from the walkie-talkie.

Kirk put on a tuxedo, for some reason, and ran out of the house.

"The Simpson residence. That's right across the street," he muttered as he sprinted away.

AN: Yes, I'm trying to make Samantha as unlikable as possible. I mean, she's harsh, stubborn, rude—but she's tame compared to how Potterheads hate Dolores Umbridge.

I don't know that much about Kirk and Luann, so I'm trying to base their descriptions on their fight in "A Milhouse Divided".