Chapter 26: Swan Song Part 1

(Alright, so I kinda already explained this in the last chapter of Rose are Red and So are the Violets but now that I've completed a new rotation, I think I should bring everyone that actually reads my stories up to speed on what exactly happened over the last few weeks.

At some point in February, around the time I was trying to fix up the existing chapters for this story, this site started to struggle with showing new content and updates, usually giving me a error message in place of new chapters and ignoring the updates to the chapters to this story. I intended to move to AO3 for a bit just to wait this out but then my laptop started to ignore the keys on the keyboard, a problem that even now still plagues me despite having taken it to the shop. It's only recently that FF seems to have fixed the problem although as I'm sure you all know, the art bots are still running rampant.

This, combined with the issue a few months ago concerning the emails not going through have convinced me that FF will take its sweet time fixing any issues that pop up from now on which makes it rather unreliable. Therefore, from this moment, forward, I will be working mostly from AO3. I'll still be uploading my stories and chapters on here of course, but from now on, FF is the secondary site.

On the bright side, in the time it took me to fix up all the existing chapters for this story, I was able to plan out the rest of the season and honestly, I think you'll like what I have in store.

Also, as I know they are bots or even AI, I'm not gonna even bother bringing up the bots anymore. I've disabled my PMs for the time being and any "review" that ask to make art or to collaborate will be blocked at my fastest convenience. To the assholes that thought out this little scam and refuse to give up: Fuck You.

Now let's get started already...)

The sun blazed down on the Springfield docks, one of the last times it would ever do so. For in a few weeks, following the disasters that had taken place here in rapid succussion, the docks will be torn down and rebuilt anew. The new docks will never enjoy the same success as its predecessor did, (mostly due to the pollution from the Power Plant killing off most of the sea life off the coast of Springfield.) but it would drive up enough revenue to earn a place in Springfield's unsteady economic market and in a small way, the town would recover.

But for now, the old dock remained and on this hot summer day, as Allison Taylor and Marsha Prince paid it a visit, they found it to be crawling with police activity.

"My word," Marsha breathed. "I've never seen the police forgathered like this since the Great Homer Simpson Incident of Five Years Ago."

"A disaster so great in magnitude that we can't even say the name of the year it took place." Allison agreed before pointing up ahead. "Look! There's the Chief!"

"Put any body parts you find in the blue cooler next to my car," Chief Wiggum instructed as he stood in the middle of the docks. "We gotta keep them cool for the coroner."

"But Chief," Lou spoke up. "I was keeping my soda in there."

"Don't be a baby, Lou," Wiggum argued. "That's why they put those lids on the soda cans. So you won't get any corpse juice in it."

Sighing, Lou walked off to join his brothers and sisters of the law in searching for body parts. It had been a whole two days since the Animal Avenger set that vicious wolf loose on the would-be dog fighters and yet body parts and half-eaten corpses were still turning up around the docks. Wiggum even suggested that they drain the sea to search for more although his idea was quickly shot down. As Wiggum watched Lou vanish into an alley, sipping his third coffee of the day, he heard footsteps approaching him and turned to the two teens.

"Chief Wiggum, I'm Allison Taylor and this is Marsha Prince." Allison began as she took out a pencil and notepad. "Can we have a moment of your time?"

Wiggum's eyes narrowed. "This isn't one of those exploitation tabloid thingys, is it?"

"No, it's...for...a...school report?" Allison capped off her sentence with a nervous chuckle.

Wiggum continued to glare at the young girls before suddenly fixing his face. "Well why didn't you say so? Ask away! Ha ha!"

Allison and Marsha released quiet sighs of relief. "Thank you! So can you tell us what exactly happened here?"

"Well, as you can clearly see from the carnage behind me, it was a full-on massacre!" Wiggum replied. "A crazed wolf was released on these docks and went to town on these dog fighters like a fat guy in a hot dog-eating contest. And I should know! I won one last week!" Wiggum pulled out his phone and pulled up a image which he then presented to the teen investigators. It displayed him on a picnic table, a crown with chili dripping from the top on his head as he was raising his arms in victory, three hot dogs stuffed in his mouth.

Allison nodded as she jotted something down on the notepad. "Chief Wiggum, there's rumors that the Animal Avenger was the one that released the wolf on the dog fighters. Would you say those rumors are founded or unfounded?"

Wiggum happened to be taking a sip of his coffee as Allison asked this question and spit it out on a passing officer once she was finished. The officer screamed in pain and ran off while Wiggum continued to sputter. "W-Wha!? T-The Animal Avenger? T-That's ridiculous! Where'd you kids even get a crazy idea like that?"

Lou happened to be walking by as Wiggum said this and leaned toward his superior's ear. "Um, Chief? That theory was all over the news, remember? The whole town knows about it."

"Damn that Brockman and his big fat mouth!" Wiggum shouted. "I swear sometimes it's like that guy wants to cause a public panic!"

"Can't imagine why, Chief." Lou said with an eye roll.

"Look kids, forget what that toupee-wearing moron said. The Animal Avenger had nothing to do with this crime. I mean, come on! Since when did he start using animals to do his dirty work?"

"But it's a known fact that all of the victims were engaging in the illegal activity of dog-fighting," Marsha spoke. "Wouldn't that put them smack-dab in the proverbial bullseye, given the Animal Avenger's established Modus Operandi?"

"Hey hey! What's with the third-degree?" Wiggum got into Marsha's face as he asked this, causing her to squeak in fright. "You know, you two are starting to sound a lot like tabloid reporters after all."

Both Allison and Marsha raised their hands and shook their heads. "No, we're not! Honest! We're just doing this for a book report! I swear!"

"A book report?" Lou raised his eyebrow. "In the summer?"

Wiggum's eyes widened. "Hey...yeah! That's right! It's summer! What kind of weirdos do book reports in the summer?"

Allison and Marsha gulped before the former offered a nervous chuckle. "Um...summer school?"

Wiggum snapped his fingers, putting Lou on alert and summoning Eddie who happened to be nearby. "Eddie. Lou. You know what to do." The two officers nodded as they approached the teens, turned them around and held their hands behind their backs. Marsha and Allison struggled and protested as they were practically pushed back to the where the docks met the mainland.

"Ok ok! I admit it! We're conducting our own investigation of the Animal Avenger but it's not for sensationalism! We want to bring him down!"

"That's what we're here for," Eddie replied without emotion.

"But, and I say this with all due respect, officers, your investigation is moving at a snail's pace. We can help!"

"You kids can help by staying out of our way!" Lou answered. "And by getting your parents to buy tickets to the Policemen's Ball. They don't even have to come or anything. We just really need the money."

About this time, the two officers had brought their unwanted visitors to the entrance of the docks and shoved them coldly back into the streets, knocking them down. They returned to the crime scene as Allison and Marsha watched on from the ground, chagrined and frustrated.

"Damn that Lou!" Allison muttered. "Why'd he have to get Wiggum wise to us?"

"A risk we should have calculated before coming here." Marsha sighed. "I suppose even the Springfield Police Force can be competent sometimes."

"Not competent enough," Allison growled as she got up and dusted herself off. "At this point, they might as well be that bastard's cleanup crew!" She happened to notice a pebble next to her feet and, with a shrill cry of anger, kicked it down the sidewalk.

"Please, friend Allison!" Marsha placed a hand on the fuming girl's shoulder. "Do not give into anger's seductive sway!"

"I can't help it!" Allison cried. "These idiots have had eight years to find the Animal Avenger and they still don't have so much as a suspect! Meanwhile, that monster is running around murdering perfectly good people!"

Marsha raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Correct me if I'm wrong Allison, but doesn't the Animal Avenger only go after animal abusers? While there is never a justified reason for taking another human life, I wouldn't go so far as to call these people perfectly good."

Allison started to tear up and covered her eyes. It was then that Marsha remembered how she got involved in this investigation in the first place and gasped as she recalled what Allison had told her. "Oh dear...you were speaking of Clementine, weren't you?"

"I...I know I don't have any concrete proof that the Animal Avenger did it but I know it in my gut," Allison sniffled. "That bastard killed her! And I want to find him. I want to get justice for Clementine!"

"And we will," Marsha assured her as she rubbed her friend's shoulder. "For Clementine and for everyone else that that madman has ever slain, regardless of how deserving they are of it."

Allison turned to Marsha, her eyes still watery and smiled. "You're right." Allison snorted as she wiped her eyes dry. "Sorry about that, Marsha. I don't know what came over me."

"It's always difficult when you have emotional ties in an investigation," Marsha replied. "But for now, let's just focus on changing our tactics."

"Well, the police won't be of any help, that's for sure." Allison said. "Looks like we're completely on our own."

"This will put us at odds with the police in terms of finding the Animal Avenger," Marsha brought up. "This will be quite the daunting task."

"You're right about that," Allison agreed. "We may need some more help with this." She scratched her chin for a moment and gasped as a certain starfish-haired girl popped into her mind. "I got it! Why don't we ask Lisa to help?"

"Lisa?" Marsha asked. "Surely, you're referring to fellow egghead Lisa Marie Simpson?"

"Who else? She and Clementine were really close before prom night and Lisa seemed the most devastated out of all of us when she died."

"That much I can confer from personal experience." Marsha spoke as she recalled walking by Lisa in the hallway on the last week of school. She waved and greeted Lisa with a cheerful "Salutations!" but all she got back was the tired and defeated gaze of a girl who lost someone precious to her. It was enough to unsettle Marsha for the rest of that school day and even now, she shuddered at the memory.

"I know Lisa would jump at the chance to get justice for Clementine!" Allison continued. "And with three of the smartest students of Springfield High on the case, we'll be sure to catch the Animal Avenger in no time!"

"Hmm. You bring up a lot of excellent arguments," Marsha said. "I can't think of any rebuttal, not that I would really need one as I am in complete agreement!

"Then it's settled," Allison beamed. "We'll get Lisa on the team and bring the Animal Avenger down once and for all!" She offered her hand to Marsha who took it and shook it with gusto.

"Accede!"

"Damn pants!" Homer whined as he struggled with the two sides of his work pants, his stomach keeping the button from entering the hole. "Get it together already!"

The day was already off to a bad start for Homer as another drunken binge had kept him asleep until 9. Now, he was rushing to get himself ready for what remained of the work day. Normally, Homer wouldn't care at all about being a little late to work and would sometimes even use it as an excuse to not clock in at all. But ever since he moved into the Stag Horn, it seemed Mr. Burns really had it out for him. Even the smallest mistake or minute behind his designated arrival time resulted in a searing flamethrower to the ass or Mr. Burn's newly built-in taser to the face. Even now, as Homer fought to button his pants, his mind raced with fear over what Mr. Burns would do to him if he was caught coming in late to work again. He hoped he would be able to sneak past the cameras again.

"Come on, you stupid...grrr...Whoo-hoo!" Homer shouted as he heard the satisfying snap of his pants button. He rushed over to the bathroom mirror and grabbed his tie. He frantically wrapped it around his neck, choked himself by accident, and readjusted it the way Marge would. Just thinking about his blue-haired lover made Homer frown but he didn't have time for feelings right now, not if he wanted to avoid another "Eletrobatomy"

He threw the door open, stepped outside...

...and squeaked in surprise as a orange blur dashed over his foot.

Homer had to grab the railing to avoid falling over it and turned around with his hand clasped around his chest. As he recovered his breath, he looked down to see the culprit, a small pale orange kitten.

"Oh! Just a cat," Homer wheezed. "I thought I stepped on another rat for a second."

The kitten looked up at Homer with its amber eyes and mewed.

"Aww! You know, you look a little like my daughter's cat," Homer said. "Before he went to cat collage, I presume."

The kitten noticed Homer's shoelaces and approached them. It sniffed the aglet and batted it a few times, causing Homer to giggle.

"He he! You're a riot!" Homer looked at his watch and gasped as he was reminded of why he was in such a rush in the first place. "Ah! I'm running late! Sorry, kitty but I gotta go!" He locked his door and made his way to the stairs as fast as his heavy legs would carry him, whistling a tune all the while.

The kitten remained in place, watching the fat man vanish down the stairs and uttering a lonely, pitiful mew.

Despite being the venue for not one but two gruesome murders connected to the Animal Avenger as of late, the Springfield Park remained as thriving as ever. Children still chased each other along the grass and through the plastic and wooden play sets. Parents still watched from afar, although their eyes remained peeled for even the slightest bit of movement within the trees and shadows. Teens still snuck into the bathroom to smoke or look up vintage porn on their phones. All in all, it seemed Springfield Park refused to surrender its facade of normalcy even in the face of the violence perpetrated within its confines.

With this facade came a sense of safety and security and thus no one would bat an eye at the teenage girl sitting by herself on a bench, scrolling through her phone.

"Psychology tips?" The Beast asked as her better half scrolled through the endless advice.

"There's a exotic animal trade going on somewhere in Springfield," Lisa answered mentally. "And so far, the only lead I have is that Moe Szyslak is somehow involved. I need to question him without getting him wise, know what I mean?"

"I understand," The Beast replied. "Of course, you'll need to take all the precaution you can. After all, he's seen you on the hunt."

"I wouldn't worry about that," Lisa assured her inner demon. "If Moe's like any of the other adults around town, it'd take me straight up confessing to him to make him put two and two together. And besides, it was dark and everything was panicky. I doubt he remembers much."

"I suppose that's true, especially when he was so preoccupied with that annoying little brat."

Lisa stopped moving her thumb over her phone.

"Oh, did I strike a nerve?" The Beast asked. "Don't tell me you're still broken up about what happened between that little shit and your sister."

"Eli wasn't a bad kid. He just hung out with a bad crowd. And he may not see it now but living with a more responsible adult is only going to change his future for the better."

"Then why are you still feeling guilty?"

Lisa didn't answer nor did she need to. The Beast already knew.

"Or maybe it's not guilt you're feeling but loss. Loss over a chance to bring your little sister on board our holy mission and end your loneliness."

Lisa shook her head. "I'm glad that things didn't work out with Maggie. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking even considering dragging her into this nightmare. It's better this way."

"Even if it means she hates your stinking guts?" The Beast chuckled.

Lisa didn't say anything. The memory of Maggie's declaration of hatred for the Animal Avenger replayed itself over and over in her mind.

"In any case, we might as well forget about those two little shits for the time being," The Beast suggested. "And focus on the one in front of us."

Lisa causally looked up from her phone, her eyes portraying the predatory glare of a hunter.

Several yards away, partially hidden from Lisa's view by a large oak tree, was a boy around Eli's age. He was pale yellow with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was currently wearing a white shirt with blue stripes and maroon shorts. Before him was the duck pond Lisa had kissed Clementine by a few months ago. Swimming about in the middle of it was a mother duck with her eight ducklings trailing after her like a unstable, segmented tail. The boy was squatting before the pond, constantly looking back and forth as if he were afraid someone would come near him, before turning back to the pond and throwing something in the water. Using the zoom option on her phone's camera function, Lisa could see the little specks of bread floating on the pond's surface.

"Think he's gonna try it again?" The Beast asked

"He wouldn't be here otherwise," Lisa shook her head slightly as she put down her phone. "Seriously, I wish he would just go and play on the monkey bars like a normal kid."

"Right, because you used to play on the monkey bars so much as a child," The Beast taunted. "You never just sat by yourself with your nose in a book. Oh no!"

"You know, one of these days, I'm gonna learn how to muzzle you with my mind." Lisa thought.

"Killjoy."

As Lisa and The Beast were having their mental spat, one of the boy's bread specks got noticed by the last duckling of the lineup. The yellow and black bird swam up to the crumb, turned its head curiously, and sampled it. It let out a happy quack as it decided it liked the taste of this strange offering and noticed more of them floating away from the edge of the pond. The duckling gobbled them up greedily one after the other, oblivious to the human boy it was nearing as it followed morsel after morsel.

But the boy noticed the duckling right away.

He tossed one more piece of bread right at the water's edge but behind the duckling, forcing the young bird to turn its back to him to collect it. Once the duckling devoured it, the boy reached out and clasped the baby bird in his hand. The duckling cried out for its mother as the boy stood up, smiling to himself.

Lisa noticed the duckling's cries at once and watched as the boy snuck off behind the oak tree. "I fucking knew it!" She got up from her bench, made sure no one else was looking...

...and pressed her phone against her ear.

"Susan!?" Lisa shouted as she sauntered toward the oak tree in as loud a voice as she could speak while still sounding casual. "Oh my God! It's been too long!"

The sound of something metal dropping could be heard behind the tree and a mere second later, the boy darted out from his hiding place, his face betraying the look of terror too often present on boys caught doing something bad. He took off toward the swing set without so much as looking at Lisa, muttering what she could only guess were curses to himself. Lisa watched him until he made it to the final empty swing available, her blood boiling once more. "Not today, you little shit." She muttered under her own breath before hearing the sound of frightened quacking. Looking down, she noticed the panicked duckling waddling toward the pond, scared out of its mind but seemingly without injury. Lisa watched in relief as the duckling entered the pond and swam back to its family.

"Looks like your precious bath toy's okay," The Beast commented. "Let's survey the damage."

"Alright," Lisa turned to the area where the boy had run from, from the spot behind the tree where he thought no one could see him. Laying on the grass before the tree was a pair of pliers with a single yellow feather clenched between them. Lisa couldn't help but clench her fist in return.

The Beast whistled within her head. "Looks like our boy was planning on making himself some Peking Duck!" She commented. "Guess we scared him off of squirrels, eh partner?"

"I just don't understand," Lisa thought. "Why does he keep doing this? You'd think after several days of being interrupted, he'd come to his senses and leave the poor animals of this park alone!"

"He's trying to play baby serial killer on our turf," The Beast replied. "If you ask me, the kid's clearly brain-dead." Even though the Beast only existed in Lisa's mind, she could still feel its hollow eye-holes turn toward her with a snarl. "The only question worth pondering is why the hell haven't you already hung this little shit from a tree?"

"He's just a kid," Lisa mentally replied. "A disturbed kid I would say is in need of a good spanking if I wasn't against such barbaric abuse toward children but a kid all the same!"

"Oh, spare me!" The Beast growled. "We both know the real reason you're trying to give this little shit a pass! It's because of your sister's little boyfriend, isn't it!?"

Lisa fought the urge to gasp out loud. "I...I don't.."

"Come on, Lisa! I wouldn't even need to be inside your head to see right through you! Ever since that incident at the docks, you've been closing in on yourself, returning to the depressed little high school girl that you were when we met. That damned heart of yours is starting to bleed again and unlike the Slaughterhouse, I can't stand the stench of it!"

Lisa grabbed her arm and rubbed it. Even after all these weeks, she still hadn't gotten used to the Beast's tendency to mentally strip her down. She supposed she never would. "Look, you already made your point clear to me on prom night. I'm a monster that hunts other monsters. I'm evil and I know this but...this is a fucking kid! And I don't care how badly you want your hunt, we have to draw the line somewhere."

"And limiting yourself to animal abusers isn't enough?" The Beast challenged.

"Afraid not," Lisa crossed her arms.

"This is ridiculous! For fuck's sake, Isaac was a kid when you tied him to a tree and beat him to death with a stick!"

"That was different!" Lisa cut in. "I was just a kid myself back then. It's...It's different now..." Lisa rubbed her arms again. "Besides, this boy may be attempting to follow in Isaacs's footsteps but we haven't let him succeed yet. He...He hasn't actually done anything wrong."

The Beast remained silent for a minute and when it spoke again, it spoke in a surprisingly calm voice. "And I assume this same logic applies to those three idiots you slaughtered right here?"

Lisa stiffened. Ever since she started watching that disturbed little boy, that incident kept replaying in her mind over and over again and wouldn't leave her alone no matter how much she willed it. It was as if she was dealing with the memory of Isaac all over again, only instead of a person being the trigger, it was the very place she was standing near.

The pond.

"It was here, wasn't it?" The Beast asked. "Where you got to try out your pretty little mask for the first time."

Lisa didn't answer through voice or mind. She simply turned to the pond and watched the ducks continue to swim. Slowly, as if the weight of her memories was weighing it down, her head leaned toward the edge of the pond, bringing her face to face with her own reflection.

"Where you avenged William and Anne."

A single leaf fell from the tree and landed on Lisa's reflection, reducing her haunted face to yellow ripples.

"I'll take a Double Double Double Double with cheese and a Krusty Orange Drink!"

"Yes, sir." Bart sighed as he entered the order into the computer.

"I want a Clogger with extra grease!"

"Coming right up, ma'am!" Another sequence entered into the computer.

"Excuse me! I just came in to use the restroom and there's a toll booth blocking the stalls!"

"All non-customers have to pay a fee for using the bathroom. We don't serve free loaders here. Company policy."

The lunch rush had come upon Krusty Burger yet again and Bart found himself taking the full brunt of it at the counter. Even though he had gotten a decent night's sleep beforehand, the sheer strain on his body and mind from the busy breakfast hours (He had to mop the floor after one of the customers threw up in front of everyone.) had already drained the energy from him, leaving him unable to fully open his eye lids or keep from yawning in between every order. Not helping matters was the general attitude most of the customers seemed to have upon placing their orders. From the stern-looking business man who demanded his burger get served first as he had an important meeting to get to to the overweight woman with nine screaming and crying kids asking about discounts for parents to the sweaty nerd that, for some unfathomable reason, seemed convinced that Bart wanted to hear his take on the current political situation.

Bart couldn't wait for his break.

"Excuse me!" The business man from earlier said as he pushed through the crowd. "I placed my order twenty minutes ago! Where's my food?"

"I'll check on it, sir." Bart groaned as he trudged toward the kitchen. "Hey guys, do you think you could speed things...what the?"

Bart squinted, unsure if what he was seeing was really there or just a figment of his exhausted imagination. He sincerely hoped for the latter.

Inside the disaster area once known as the kitchen, Rex and Weevil where shooting condiments at each other. Rex had a bottle of ketchup and relish while Weevil was armed with mustard and mayonnaise. Both slackers had improvised two boxes of Krusty brand I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Fit-For-Human-Consumption Mystery Meat Patties as blockades to hide behind as they launched their attacks.

"Hey! Hey Rex!" Weevil shouted as he squeezed the mustard at his friend, making a mess between the boxes. "I'm, like totally pissing on you! Eheheh!"

"Huh huh! Oh yeah?" Rex squirted some of his ketchup next to the pile of mustard. "Hey Weevil! It looks like you're on your period!"

Both idiots began to snicker.

"What the hell are you jackasses doing!?" Bart snapped. "It's the lunch rush!"

"Huh?" Weevil turned to Bart. "What was that?"

"Huh huh! I think he just called you a butt-munch!" Rex offered.

"Oh yeah!? I'll show you butt-munch, butt-munch!" With this, Weevil squirted his mayo at Bart, hitting him directly on the forehead. Bart sputtered as the expired condiment entered his mouth and eyes. Rex and Weevil burst into laughter as Bart struggled to remove the condiment.

"What's wrong, Bart?" Weevil asked. "I thought you liked getting white stuff all over your face!"

Rex snorted. "Yeah!" He took a moment to let himself chuckle, his throat on the verge of another hiccup attack. "Hey Bart! You have, like, a bat in the cave."

"Huh?" Bart felt around on the edge of his nose. "Where?"

"There!" Rex squirted some of his relish onto Bart's face. Bart gagged as the pickle juice burned his eyes while his coworkers continued to laugh at his torment. As Bart was struggling to get the relish off, Weevil aimed the mustard at his crotch and fired.

"Uh oh! Looks like Fart Simpson peed himself!" He cackled.

Rex followed up the attack with a squirt of ketchup in the same spot. "Yeah and he's like, totally on his period!"

Both boys threw themselves to the floor, arms wrapped around themselves and legs kicking the air as Bart wiped the last of the relish off his face. He looked down at himself, wishing he hadn't forgotten his spare uniform back home. Behind him, the crowd of angry customers began to grow restless.

"What's going on in there!?"

"Where's our food!?"

"You still didn't tell me your thoughts on Popcorngate!"

Bart groaned as he gripped his head and rubbed his face. "Just give me a minute!"

Making a mental note to report his coworkers once again, Bart trudged toward the boxes, grabbed as many frozen patties as he could carry, and headed for the grill. It was usually Rex's job to handle the cooking but as he was too busy making period jokes at Bart's expense, it was up to the only son of Homer Simpson to handle the food. He hadn't received much training in this area and burned at least five of the patties before he got the hang of it. As he continued to put together order after order, using the condiments on his uniform to place on the food when needed, the crowd outside grew even more restless, some of them threatening to break into the kitchen themselves if they were not served soon.

"The customer is always right!" Bart muttered to himself as he set the last of the food on a red tray. "The customer is always right!" He turned to his coworkers. "Hey guys! Think you can help me with this?"

Rex and Weevil were currently pelting each other with what remained of the frozen patties in the boxes.

"Heheheh!...ow!"

"Huh huh!...like, ouch!"

Bart sighed heavily before turning to the food and grabbing the trays. By the time he had finished stacking them all on top of each other, he had four trays on each hand and three on his head. Carefully, Bart made his way to the door, constantly zig-zagging to ensure the food didn't fall. Once he got to the door, he tried a few times to open the latch with his foot. The most he was able to accomplish before the food threatened to spill was pushing the door outward a little. Thus, after readjusting himself to keep the food in place, he raised his foot and kicked the door open. He toddled into the main dining area as the customers watched on with impatient glares.

"Alright, who had the number nine? Hello? Anyon-wah!"

As his mind was solely focused on the copious amounts of food balanced in his hands, he failed to remember that he had mopped the floors not but an hour ago and that they were still coated in soapy water. He slipped and lost his balance, struggling to find footing on the wet floor. His struggle came to an end as his leg hit the WET FLOOR sign near the entrance and he hit the marble tiles face-first. The food and trays fell out of his hands and crashed all over the tables and seats next to Bart. He was trying to pick his head up to survey the damage, only for a tray with a Whatchamacarass Sandwich to land right on it. The sandwich was squished between his head and the tray, the juices trickling down the sides of his face as it hit the floor.

The crowd exploded into a world of noise, some customers pointing and laughing at Bart's misfortune and others berating him for ruining their food. Behind the counter, Rex and Weevil offered their own two cents on the issue.

"Hey dumbass!" Weevil shouted. "Go back to walking school!"

"Look Weevil!" Rex pointed to the Krusty Shake smashed against Bart's rear end. "He's trying to like, drink the shake with his ass!"

"What an idiot!" Weevil and Rex threw themselves on the floor in laughter once more.

"Fuck Krusty Burger," Bart thought as he pressed his face closer to the ground. He didn't want to move from this spot until the laughter stopped.

"Oh man!" Homer sighed as he pulled up to the Stag Horn parking lot. "Old man Burns was really on my ass today!" He got up from his car, grabbed his six-pack and snacks for the night, and rubbed his aching butt. "I can still feel the switch!"

Homer didn't exactly make the clean entrance he was hoping to make at work. Smithers had caught him almost immediately and put him to work at the lower level of the plant for the day as punishment for being late. This basically meant Homer had to join the other tardies in pushing the cogs of a giant wheel that he wasn't sure really did anything. When he slowed down, a robot with a staticky voice would hit his ass with an old-timey switch.

"Now to head inside and let Uncle Al Keelhaul flush all the memories away!" Homer muttered as he climbed up the stairs. Once he reached the top, however, he discovered a rather interesting surprise waiting for him at his door.

The kitten, the same pale orange tabby that had nearly killed him with cuteness this morning, was still there, licking its paws.

"What the? You're back?" Homer walked up to the door with no care given to his thunderous footsteps. He figured the kitten would get scared by the mere vibrations of his feet and run off. To his surprise, the kitten remained in place, studying him closely with curious eyes as he approached the door. "You know," Homer commented as he stared down at the kitten in turn, "I'm beginning to suspect you never left this spot to begin with."

The kitten only mewed in response.

"Wow. To really stay in the same spot all day long," Homer mused as he recalled all the times in the past he had performed such a feat. A certain sense of pride swelled in his heart that ate away at the fatigue and agony the work day had left him in. "That kind of laziness takes total dedication!" Homer got down on one knee, both he and the kitten ignoring the loud pop it produced. "As a fellow layabout forced to toil only out of necessity, I commend thee." He bowed to the kitten, his six-pack clacking from within his plastic bag against the cement. Homer turned to it and noticed the edge of the package of beef jerky he had bought for himself at the store. An idea came to Homer, the type of idea he would normally shut down at once. But, given the situation and his admiration for the apparently lazy kitten, he simply greeted it with a smile.

"Oh, what the hell?" He reached into the bag and pulled out the jerky. He tore the package open with his teeth as he had done many times before and pulled the stick of lab meat free from its plastic confines. He broke the jerky into four pieces and tossed them near the kitten. "Such sloth deserves an award!"

The kitten sniffed at the piece of jerky closet to it, mewed, and bit into it. Homer couldn't help but feel a warmness in his chest as the kitten ate, uttering a low and adorable growl as it smacked its food over and over again, its face fixed in a famished sneer.

"Well, I got a game of cards to play with ol Uncle Al Keehaul here." Homer held up the plastic bag and the six-pack within. He leaned toward the kitten and whispered in a harsh voice. "He always lets me win!" He winked at the kitten and stepped inside his apartment.

The kitten hardly noticed the giant of a man disappear inside his home. It simply continued to work on the piece of jerky it was eating and, once it finished, moved right on to the next one.

The Polar Bear was one of the few business ventures that popped up in Springfield since Lisa's childhood that actually managed to survive up to the present day. It probably helped that it was an ice cream and candy store rooted in a town that was never without a population of children, regardless of what year it was. It was a simple building in design, a plastic polar bear in a jacket and sunglasses giving out a double thumbs up to the left of the entrance, a couple of booths in front of a large window where customers could eat their purchases and the counter at the back of the store where the manager and his wife worked tirelessly to sell their wares. Any child would think themselves quite lucky to be taken to such a place out of the blue.

Well, any child except Margaret Lenny Simpson.

"Is everything alright?" Marge asked with her hands clasped in worry. She was sitting opposite of her youngest daughter, her small cup of vanilla ice cream already emptied. "You're hardly touching your Tiger's Bleeding Heart."

"It's fine," Maggie groaned as she continued to pick at the mess of shaved ice, red food dye, chamoy, and pickle slices. "I'm just not that hungry."

"Is it the pickle slices?" Marge asked. "Because we could get more." She turned to the manager who was currently handing a banana split to a little girl in pigtails. "Mr. Polar Bear!"

"Mom, it's fine!" Maggie snapped, slamming her palms against the table. "I'm just not hungry, alright!?" She slumped back into her seat and looked away, her face burning slightly. "And that guy's name isn't Mr. Polar Bear! It's Bernie Masters."

"It is?" Marge turned to the manager who was currently cursing under his breath and pulling at his own snow-white facial hair. The one thing he detested about working in Springfield was the constant misunderstanding that he was named for the place he worked at. It was enough to drive him up the wall and the little girl he just served cried out in fear before running off. Marge murmured awkwardly as his wife came out of the back to try and calm him down. "Oh my! How embarrassing! I have to apologize!" She got up from her seat. "Excuse me for a second."

"Take your time, please!" Maggie replied as she slurped her Buzz Cola and watched her mother walk off toward the counter. She sighed as she set the cup down and continued to pick at her shaved ice.

She felt split, caught at a fork in the road which would tear her in half, no matter what path she choose. On one hand, she knew that her mother was only trying to cheer her up by bringing her here, just the two of them. Bart and Lisa both had their own things to focus on and Marge thought it would be a great opportunity to bond and deep down inside, Maggie wanted to appreciate that. On the other hand, as Simpsons, it was only a matter of time before something embarrassing happened as the current situation proved. Not helping matters, and unbeknownst to her well-meaning mother, was that Maggie and Eli had had ice cream here just last week, even sitting at the same table.

Even now, Maggie could envision Eli sitting across from her, laughing and cringing at the same time as he watched Maggie eat.

"No way! You actually like pickle slices and chamoy?"

"Like it? I love it! It's the best flavor right next to chocolate and dark chocolate!" Maggie recalled digging her spoon into the red mountain of shaved ice and offering it to Eli. "Come on! Taste it!"

Eli continued to giggle as he held his hands before him and eyed the concoction dripping from Maggie's spoon. "No way! I'm allergic to nasty shit!"

"Just try it!" Maggie recalled jumping onto the table and crawling toward Eli who had pulled the spoon out of his own Coconut Swirl to defend himself with. Without realizing it, Maggie sighed and cradled her head in her hands as she let the rest of the memory play out. The indeterminate shouting from Mr. Masters and the pleading of both his wife and her mother tore Maggie away from her memories, however, and she found herself once again facing an empty seat.

She sighed again.

"This sucks!" She thought as she pushed the crushed ice away from herself and laid her head down on the table. "I finally make a super cool friend and that stupid Animal Avenger chases him away! Ooh! What I wouldn't give for just one chance to kick her ass! One chance to make her pay!" A different vision played in Maggie's mind, one completely within the realm of daydreams. In it, she had cornered the Animal Avenger, depicted in her head as a disgusting, emaciated, witch-like figure not at all unlike the Crazy Cat Lady that used to throw her namesakes onto the Simpson's front porch when she was younger. Maggie herself was no older than her real world counterpart but was armed with a machine gun which she slowly pulled out from behind her back.

"I-I was only trying to protect God's creatures!" The old crone blabbered pathetically.

"Humans are animals too, stupid." Maggie replied in a low action-hero voice as she pointed her gun at the old bat and blasted her to pieces. The sheer awfulness of her one-liner roused her from her daydream with a cringe. "I have got to think of a better line before that day comes." She sat up and continued to pick at her shaved ice. "I bet Moe would be able to come up with a great one-liner for me to use. Heck, he'd totally kick the Animal Avenger's ass if he ever caught her."

That's when a realization came to Maggie.

"Come to think of it, I haven't seen Moe since the Rattlesnake Roundup. And after I accidently caused that fight between him and Dad, it was just too awkward to visit him." Maggie started to brighten up. "But it's been more than a month now and Dad's gone to the other side of town! Maybe...Just maybe..." Her lips curved into a smile as she imagined Moe sitting across the table before her, cleaning a mug that would never fully surrender its grime to the wash cloth in his hands. The vision alone was enough to fill Maggie with hope yet again. "That settles it! Tomorrow, I'm going to pay Moe a visit! I know he'll have all the answers! He always does!"

After one final sheepish apology to Mr. Masters, Marge slunk back to her table, half-expecting to see her youngest child glaring at her and demanding they go home. To her gentle shock, however, she found Maggie happily shoveling the Tiger's Bleeding Heart into her mouth, one spoonful at a time. The way she seemed to be fighting against her own brain freeze in order to keep eating, grunting and groaning after every spoonful, reminded Marge of her husband and she smiled as she took her seat at the table.

The rest of their little visit to the Polar Bear went off without a hitch.

Homer awoke to the sound of scratching.

At first, he couldn't tell it was scratching. He wasn't even sure he was really hearing a noise at all. He had quite literally drank himself to sleep, all six Duff cans crushed and either on or around his bed. He briefly thought it had come from a dream as he barely opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He wasn't sure how long he was in that state of semi-consciousness, only that it was broken by more scratching. Confused, Homer slowly brought his hand to his face, rationalizing that perhaps he was scratching himself in his sleep and that's where the noise was coming from. It wouldn't have been the first time, after all.

Then he heard it again and this time, it was capped off with a pitiful mew.

Slowly, Homer turned toward the new door his landlord had put in after doubling his rent. His memory raced back towards the kitten he had met today and, as if it could somehow sense he was thinking of it, the tiny creature scratched on the door again with a meow.

Annoyed, Homer turned away and pulled the blanket over himself. "Geez, you feed a homeless bum once and they stick to you like glue." He thought. "Sorry buddy, but that jerky was a one-time deal! In case, you haven't noticed, I'm not an old lady or a artsy weirdo with a scarf so get lost!"

The kitten continued to scratch at the door and mew, prompting Homer to grab his pillow and pull it over his head.

"Just wait it out, Homer." He mentally told himself. "Just wait and I'm sure the kitten will give up and leave. It has to at some point, right?

Homer shut his eyes and tried to go back to sleep despite the kitten's constant mewing and scratching. As the minutes dragged on and the kitten showed no sign of letting up, however, Homer found himself disgruntled and upset.

But not just because the kitten wasn't letting him sleep.

"Man, that kitten sure sounds desperate." He thought. "It is a pretty chilly night." Homer shook his head. "What am I thinking? That little furball can't be cold! He has fur! That stuff's supposed to keep him warm, right?" Homer tightened the blanket around himself. "That kitten will be fine! Just wait it out and I'm sure he'll leave! I mean, it's not like it's-"

A great roar of thunder overpowered the kitten's mewling.

"D'oh!"

Homer listened as the thunder was replaced by rampant rainfall. He could hear it rapping against the window and the railing outside, almost like soldiers in a march. When the thunder roared again, it sounded a little further but not by much. The kitten continued to mew through the rain but had stopped scratching at the door. Somehow, this made Homer even more tense.

"Just sleep it off...just sleep it off...just..."

Homer sighed as he forced himself out of the bed, all but one of his Duff cans falling to the floor. He trudged toward the door, grabbed the knob, and after a moment's hesitation, opened it. He was greeted by the strangely lonely sight of rain falling over the town at night, the light of the moon and stars reduced to weak beams slipping through the cracks of the dark clouds overhead. Homer looked down at his feet and noticed the kitten curled up in a ball, shivering from the coldness of the raindrops splashing against it. He expected it to be looking up at him with giant pleading eyes like in Puss in Boots but its eyes were shut tightly, as if the poor creature was trying to keep the rain from falling into them.

Without so much as a grunt or curse, Homer gently scooped the kitten up in his giant hands and carried it inside.

(Don't worry. I'm not gonna make you wait 50 chapters to see what's the deal with Lisa and the pond. But until then, please review the story if you enjoyed it and I'll catch you all on the flip side. Later!)