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The Simpsons: Desperate Times

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The Simpsons: Desperate Times will be a story in a bunch of parts or maybe I'll give up. It will be my first fanfiction. It will be made up as I go along and I'll post only first drafts of every part. The parts will end whenever I feel like stopping.

 

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Part 1: Just A Day

 

The air was electrifying and damp, the clouds dark as if on the verge of a great downpour. So the weather had been for the past several days, leaving the townsfolk of Springfield uneasy. Moe glanced out the window of his tavern, as if constantly expecting to see rain. Apu looked up from his mopping expecting the same. Everybody waited, few of them talked. A storm was coming alright, it was just a matter of when.

 

The Simpson household was not spared the dark atmosphere either. Homer anxiously grabbed at his arms, unsure where his hands should be. No matter where on the couch he perched his behind, nothing felt quite right. No amount of comedic wriggling could find the right adjustment for his typically indicriminate cheeks. 

 

"Marge, I am distressed" he complained loudly, in his way.

 

"What's wrong, Homie?" Marge replied in a half sarcastic, half not so sarcastic but actually kind of concerned way.

 

"My ass cannot decide for it self anymore, and I cannot be at ease if my ass is not." Homer answered, staring at his feet with a frown on his face, as opposed to anywhere else on his body.

 

"Then God help us all" Marge despaired.

 

Bart and Lisa tumbled into the room, with anger brewing in the air between them, like a festering stench. "Bart is a menace on society and I really need to complain!" Lisa complained, complainily.

 

"Oh Homer! Sort out your fucking kids!" Marge yelled from in the kitchen, irate and impatient with her unruly family lifestyle.

 

Homer's head lay back unnaturally poised on the top of the couch. Had there been flies buzzing around him, you'd think him dead.

 

"These are the times we live in Homer" said Bart, crawling onto his fathers bloated stomach, and seizing him by the jaw and shaking around his unresponsive face. Maggie lay, sedated on the floor. Lisa remained angry, arms folded. Marge started crying.

 

These were the state of things, and this was the unassuming scene upon which the closing hours of the Simpson saga were to unfold.

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Part 2: Bring Me To Life

 

Someone had to say something. The state of the family was properly depressing, for real. "For the past week, you've been a bunch of so and so's, so you have!" said Lisa, with unmatched enthusiasm in this emotionally drained time of life. "I've had it up to the ROOF with this motivational famine!"

 

"I just want to die Lisa please stop being so negative towards my negativity" Bart groaned, squeezing himself so hard his arms were threatening to dislocate from the rest of him.

 

"No Bart! We have to do something! I am so angry!" Lisa persisted, persistently.

 

"I wish I could feel, but the weather is just so depressing that it's making me depressing!" Bart said, with feeling.

 

"Come on Bart! We can't give in to depression!" Lisa continued. "I sensed in you the spark of emotion, passion for your voice to be heard! Conjure up that raw emotion and convert it towards something positive! We need to bring the energy back into our lives!"

 

Marge crawled into the living room from the kitchen, her face dry and cracked, dehydrated from all the crying. "Lisa's right" she choked, "Something needs to be done to end this bitter war against depression."

 

"Ugh I am so depressed" remarked Bart

 

Maggie stared through the ceiling and into eternity.

 

Homer cranked his head up above his shoulders and stared at Maggie, who lay on the ground, blank as he felt, emotionally. But through his grey, clouded mind, he felt it dye with a brilliant blue, at the sight of his baby, near-dead on the floor in front of him. The buzzing of noises and voices about his ears had been droned out by the high pitched whinings of the war, which slowly subsided, until he heard the cries of his family.

 

Through the calling of names, and crying of Bart, Homer stood up abruptly, launching Bart into the television set, as he had once been laying on Homer's stomach. "The girl is right!" Homer exclaimed, with great sex appeal.

 

Lisa and Marge were taken aback by this sudden change in Homer's once corpse-like nature. Maggie was still high as puppy.

 

Bart sat himself up in the remains of their outdated television set "Homer, you-"

 

"Boy!" Homer interrupted  pointing down at his son, shocked and intimidated by his father's glorious fighting spirit. "Fetch me the computer ma bob!"

 

He scampered off like the little scamp he was, in fear of his father.

 

"Whatever could you need the computer for, dad?" Lisa asked, with genuine interest.

 

Homer knelt before her and clutched her shoulders "It's time to steal some fanfiction."

 

------

 

 

Part 3: The Sons of Fate

 

"...Fanfiction?!" Lisa asked in return, in real actual outrage and confusion.

 

Homer was unfazed by his daughter's apparent lack of understanding. "Fanfiction."

 

Despite how he waited, Lisa didn't seem to follow, as she stared blankly back at Homer.

 

Homer stood back up and threw his arms into the air "We are the masters of our own fate, Lisa! We choose our own path!" and crouching down, to be face to face with her "And since we cannot be the authors of our own fate, we must steal our fate from the hands of those who write for us."

 

Lisa really did not follow, and she too began to feel the cold sting of depression sink into her heart. She fell back onto the ground, and formed herself into a foetal position, as if attempting to retract into her most basic form, in a bid to shrink into non existence and wipe herself from both time and space to escape from her father's overwhelming stupidity.

 

Marge crawled back into the kitchen "I'm going to get a drink because otherwise I will die from dehydration."

 

Everywhere Homer looked, color sprang, and swam in the air. The colour of life, motivation, the energy that flows in and throughout our beautiful, beautiful world.

Bart, crying, returned to the living room with a handy portable laptop, opened to an unnamed fanfiction site. "Here, father, I have done the deed." Bart said, shamedly, for on the front page there were things no mortal should ever be subjected to.

 

"It is with regret that I do this, son, but it is the fate of this family that is at stake. And if I have to trade all our souls to protect us all, then so be it. It is with ease that I am willing to travel the lengths of hell and back to save my family. But it is with difficulty that I will do this."

 

And so it was that Homer entered the deadly game of fanfiction. He searched through hours of horrific depictions of he and his family engaging in acts that would make Satan himself blush in embarrassment. Yet Homer was unfazed, driven forward by his will to survive. 

The days passed, and Homer became more engrossed in the world of fanfiction. Lisa had stopped eating, while Marge had not given up her newfound hope. Bart had chosen denial, and played endlessly with Maggie, who was blissfully unaware of the sour turn of events.

 

On the third day, Homer rose from his seat, drenched in sweat and his own stench. He stood in grim silence for a few moments, until his family turned their attention to him. Even Maggie, who despite her innocence, recognised the importance of the event. Homer glanced at his family, all stationed on the floor below him. His eyes were dark, half closed. "Family." he began, after a great silence. "I have returned from the land of the undead, unscathed by it's threats of mental scarring and perversion. I am enlightened, yet unspoiled. I have stared into the eyes of death, and welcomed him to challenge my authority, but he did not oblige. For he recognised me as my own master, a man of great willpower and strength. The man who will begin the greatest storm of our time."

The Simpson family rose a little from their seats in the dirt, mouths gaping in awe

 

"I have, with intended purpose, broken a great taboo of the realm of fanfiction." he said grimly. "I have done what cannot be undone, and started a fire that will consume the heavens." he paused again, as if containing a kind of fearful excitement. Suddenly, the words rose out of him in a triumphant, desperate scream, fueled by the fear in his heart. "I HAVE INVITED THE GODS OF FANFICTION TO A BATTLE." he lashed out, in tears and laughter, both sad and amused "I HAVE CHALLENGED THEM TO A DUEL TO THE DEATH."

 

Lisa, silent for so long, dropped her previously hopeful expression into a fearful one, now trembling in fear "Father... you didn't..."

 

"Lisa..." Homer said quietly. "Yes..." he continued, face dropping to face the ground, eyes closed. "I have saved someone else's fanfiction and passed it off as my own."

 

A deathly silence passed over the room, and spread out for what felt like an eternity.

 

"My death is certain now..." he whispered. After another silence Homer looked up, eyes frantic, expression contorted in manic fear and delight "THE FANFICTION POLICE ARE ON THEIR WAY"

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Teto what am I reading

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