AN: To all the artists and enthusiasts who gave these chapters positive reviews and want to make promotional art, thank you all so much! The only reception I got on AO3 was two comments and 15 kudos. Unfortunately, you guys have to wait for the epilogue to get a full grasp of what you might want to draw.

742 Evergreen Terrace, 4:02 p.m.

Kirk ran for a few moments. He saw the many Springfieldians gathered around the scene. Four men in hooded red robes, hands emitting red light, floating victims—he had seen this too many times before.

"Hey!" Kirk reached for his pocket and fumbled for a while. He took out an all-seeing eye badge and showed it to the men. Bart and Maggie fell hard on the ground as the hooded group panicked, hurriedly turned their cloaks, and ran away.

"What happened?" Homer walked towards Kirk. "Who were those men?"

Kirk sighed. "I think Bart here will be able to tell us."

Everyone's gazes turned to a sheepishly grinning Bart.

"What?" Bart pointed at Lisa. "Don't forget her too."

Lisa stomped her feet as she angrily confronted Bart. "I wasn't there when this stupid 'incident'"—she used air quotes—"happened!"

Bart stuttered in his attempt to defend himself. "But—this isn't—I told you—"

"Yes, but I still wasn't there!"

"What about Maggie?"

Kirk glared at Bart. "What makes you think a baby would provide sufficient evidence for a matter as serious as this?"

Maggie cleared her throat.

"What happened to you?" Kirk approached Maggie.

Then came the Herculean task of repeating what happened that night for the umpteenth time, often starting over when a person didn't listen.

5:57 p.m.

The crowd left. Kirk went back to his house and Maggie's voice had become very hoarse, almost sounding like Marge herself.

Speaking of Marge, her throat had recovered. "Just what is going on here? First I curse, then that Nezuko woman appears at Crandall's, then Maggie talks, then I choke myself?"

"What Nezuko woman?" Lisa asked just as Nezuko came stumbling through the road.

"That Nezuko woman," Maggie gestured.

Nezuko sighed, looked at the car, and turned to Marge. "Crandall's expecting you to go back to attend the meeting."

Marge looked at her car's wreck. "How? Maggie totaled my car!"

Homer showed Marge his keys. "You can always use my car."

"Thank you so much!" Marge ran in the pink sedan and drove off, tires screeching on the pavement as she did so.

"Now how are you going to go to work tomorrow?" Bart asked.

After a short pause, Homer yelled "D'OH!"

Springfield Meeting Center parking lot, 6:22 p.m.

Marge carefully parked Homer's sedan in a spot close to the building's entrance. "Oh, boy. Crandall's going to kill me."

She went into the lobby, where numerous staff members were gathered around the broken robot's head, which had tumbled down the stairs that afternoon.

When Marge tried to climb up, a female staff member stopped her. "Fifth floor?"

Marge murmured, showed her the black card, and climbed up.

Crandall's office, 6:25 p.m.

Marge burst in, exhausted. Samantha was tapping her foot impatiently. She said nothing but gave Marge a death glare and pointed to a seat with a jerk.

"Don't you know it's rude to walk out of an appointment like that?"

Marge remained distracted by a blue police box flying above her house.

"Oi!" Samantha snapped her fingers.

"Why you little—" Samantha lunged out of her seat to strangle Marge, but the latter absentmindedly raised her left hand to stop the former.

"What exactly is that?" Marge pointed at the police box.

Samantha sighed. "I might have to do this if it gets your attention."

She punched Marge's gut.

"What the hell did you have to do that for? " Marge yelled as she groaned in pain. "I'm asking what that box...is..."

The police box had disappeared.

Samantha sighed again. "Now will you please pay attention?"

Marge begrudgingly turned her gaze to Samantha.

Something about her just makes me boil inside, Marge thought. I just wanna throw her off this building or murder her or something—

Then Marge realized she wasn't even thinking in her own voice.

What is this? she thought in her normal voice.

Heh. Don't you ever feel like you just want to do bad things for fun?

This isn't normal. Who are you?

Let me just say I'm your other personality.

Other personality? What are you talking about?

You can call me—

"MARGE!" Samantha's voice boomed out, snapping Marge back into reality. "You know what, fine. That stupid meeting is approved. Room 13. Go ahead and...make yourself uncomfortable."

"But—"

"OUT!" Samantha shoved Marge out of her office with enough force to send her down five floors' amount of stairs. By the time Marge landed with a crack on the ground, her vision was blurry and she could barely move her fingers. She sighed and fell asleep.

Subconscious mind, time unknown

Marge opened her eyes and looked around. She noticed that she had landed in a large blue void. She could feel the ground beneath her feet.

"This has to be a dream," Marge muttered. "Let me try something..."

She poked her finger through her other palm. It went through. She was dreaming. "Good thing Lisa taught me that trick."

She noticed she was wearing white robes. Her hair was down. "What the—"

A portal formed in front of her. Marge peeked through and saw her battered body at the foot of the stairs. Staff members surrounded the scene.

"Hello?" Marge called out. She raised her hands in an attempt to be noticed. "Hello?"

She stuck her hand through the portal and shrugged. "Eh, why not?"

Marge went through and the portal closed behind her. She examined her body.

Some parts were soiled, courtesy of the dirt from people's shoes that obviously got on the stairs. Her heel had fallen off her left foot. Apart from the mentioned details, she looked like a normal woman who'd fallen asleep at a random place.

A bunch of people were waiting outside, banging on the locked door and dying to get a closer look at the situation. A male staff member who was inspecting Marge's webbed toes stood up and unlocked the door.

Many Springfieldites, as well as photographers, flooded in. Good thing Helen Lovejoy wasn't there to make the situation worse.

"This just in, Marge Simpson has barged into the Springfield Meeting Center and fallen asleep," Kent Brockman unenthusiastically said into a microphone.

Marge gritted her teeth. "I'll show them!" She noticed a dagger on a nearby table, so she grabbed it and thrust it into her own stomach, waking her up with a jerk. Marge put on her left heel and snatched the microphone from Kent.

"I have not chosen to fall asleep here! Samantha Crandall pushed me down the stairs!"

The staff members turned to the camera in shock. Marge walked out, saw Homer's pink car, got in, and drove off.

AN: I created Samantha to be unlikable. Pushing Marge down the stairs? Now that is what being a jerk means. But after this story was finished on AO3, I began a character arc that would eventually change her heart, simply because my collaborator Rats likes her.

However, this is only the good side of Marge's subconscious. To see the bad side, skip ahead to Chapter 20 on AO3 while it's still not here. Be warned—there will be blood.