We Start our story off at Springfield Elementry School as the kids are leaving to go home. All the kids are proceeding on the bus.
Bart: Hey Milhouse!
Bart: take a look i stole from Principle Skinners office! (bart reaveals a whoopi cushion)
Milhouse: Woah! cool Bart, how did you get that from his office?
Bart: Well i was sent to the principle fro disrupting the class and while old Skinhead stepped out i ransacked his Drawer and found this Baby!
Milhouse: Your my hero! so what are going to do with it? are you gonna prank somebody!
Bart: Just watch and learn 4 eyes! (inflates cushion and places it quickly in the seat behind them) Watch and learn!
(meanwhile the twins Sherri and Terri step on the bus and walk towards the whoopi cushioned seat, they walk past bart waving to them and both turn up their noses. Bus pulls ofSherri move towars the window seat while Terri sits down on the isle seat sitting on the Whoopi cushion. *zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzztttttttttt*
(Terri jumps up form the seat scared while all the Kids are laughing at her)
Bart: Ahahahahahhahaha! you got Punk'd
Milhouse: (still laughing) that was a good one Bart!
Terri: (smacks Bart) THat wasn't sunny you ugly mokey!
Bart: Face it purple head, i pranked you so hard and there is nothing you can do about it. Besides what can the two of you do to me? (kids say: oooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh!)
Sherri: We will get you back bart. You'll see.
Terri: We will get you so bad you won't ever want to show that ugly face of yours again. (kids again respond)
Bart: Eat My Shorts shorts eaters! (kids repsond)
Sherri and Terri: you'll be eating our shorts tommorow freak! (kids again respond)
Bart: You don't wear shorts! (kids laugh)
(Both twins roll their eyes and begin plotting their plan)
Ottoman: All right shers and tears its your stop!
Terri: See you later weirdo!
Bart: You still have the Whoopi cushion on your but! (sherri looks behind her and sees the cushion her dress. Terri blushes of embarressment while Sherri takes off the cushion) *kids laughing*
Terri and Sherri: Thats not funny! (both run off the bus and run inside their house.) (bus pulls off)
Milhouse: Hey Bart!(snug look on his face) i think Terri kind of likes you.
Bart: Shut up Milhouse!
(meanwhile back at the Twins House. They are in their room)
Sherri: We have got to think of somthing to get that smelly ape back! any ideas!
Terri: (still embarresed) i don't know. There is nothing that could top that embarressing Cushion.
Sherri: Thats it!
Terri: Thats what?
Sherri: We will make him fart in class!
Terri: With the Whoopi cushion? You know he is too smart to fall fot that!
Sherri: No! I am talking about something more embarresing than a whoopi cushion!
Terri: Doble whoopi cushion?
Sherri: No you idiot a real outburst of fllatulence
Terriface lightens up) Ahh yes! (sherri chuckles) That would totally destroy his popularity and he may never return to school again.
Sherri: Indeed! but we need to come up with a way to make him devlope an extremely bad case of gas. (walks back and fourth quickly)Quick what makes people fart?
Terri: Umm. Beans?
Sherri: Of course! Thank you sister.
Terri: But we need something that will keep him going for a long time! I know why don't we use what is inside dad's "Special box" and mix it with the beans.
Sherri: You mean the "secret box" that is so "secret" not even dad knows what "secrets" are in the "secret box"
Terri: Your clicheing again!
Sherri: (blushing) oh! sorry!
Terrri: Anyway, yes! we will use it to make a pill that we can drop into his drink at lunch time while he is not looking.
Sherri: Great plan! lets go get the box!
(run down to the basement to retrieve the box. They take out the "Secret Box" and use an axe to break the lock. They both have to open it becuase the lid is so heavy. When they open it they discover a hidden supply of uranium rods stored in tubes)
Sherri: (reaches in and grabs a tube) Now lets go have some fun!
(both twins laugh manichally. Both gather and hurry to their room and begin beans and create 2 mutated beans)
Terri: Now we can get our revenge on that dork!
Sherri: Indeed sis! Nothing can ruin this plan!
(suddenly there was a quick thump on Their door.)
Twins Dad: Sherri..Terri
(both twins jump in nervousness and begin to panic. Theu both quickly swallow the beans)
Twins: Ye..yes daddy!
Twins Dad: (opens door) Whats going on in here? and why are you two so jumpy?
Sherri: We were just uhhhhhh.......cold!
Terri: yeah cold and we were going to
SHerri: Turn the heat up
Twins Dad: I knew you two were up to something!
Twins Dad: You to were going to touch the Thermostat weren't you?
Terri: You caught us!
Twins Dad: Haha! caught you in the act haha! Well just put somemore clothes on and you will be warmer in no time.
Twins: Okay! by dad!
Twins Dad: Are you sure you two are.......
(Terri closes door)
Terri: Yes dad! see you at dinner
Sherri: (sighs) That was close! okay so where did you put your bean!
Terri: I swallowed it!
Sherri: So did I!
Twins: (Both scream at the same time. They then begin to have severe stimach cramps and then they begin to undergo a mutation)
(meanwhile at Barts house. Bart and Lisa are sittin at the Table)
Lisa: Bart! were you the one that pranked Terri today on the bus today?
Bart: uumm...No it was Milhouse(sarcastically) of corse it was me dummy! Best prank ever
Lisa: (sighs) Bart, i know you can't help your constant rambunctiousness that was just mean of you to prank people who don't even bother you! Now i think you should apologize tommorow.
Bart: Are you insane? For startes i can prank anyone i want to at anytime. Plus SHerri and Terri hate my guts anyway so what difference does it make.
Lisa: They don't hate you! i am sure if you go and straighten things about you could become good friends.
Bart: in your dreams geekbate. How can they possibly get back at me.
Lisa: I give up! your on your own! (Lisa walks into living room and looks at the T.V) Bart!(urgently)
Bart: What now?
Lisa: You should take a look at this news report.
Bart: (gets up and walks into living room) What going on?
Lisain shock) Oh my! (points to T.V) (T.V. reveals a 50 ft version of Sherri and Terri reaking havoc on the city)
Kent: This is Kent Brockman with breaking news. It seems Springfield Is under attack by two blue haired little girls with anger management problems and severe aggression. (clip of Twins smashing buildings, roaring and crushing cars.) I have just received word that the two are Terri and Sherri...i can't read the last name but it seems that they are on the looking for This person crudley depicted in this drawing made by one of the twins. (picture is shown on the screen)The picture has been confirmed to be non other than local pain in the ass Bart Simpson. One of the Twins has just said this "Give us bart, we wan Bart" and so i assume that Bart is not supprisingly behind this and needs to give himself up to ease these Twins of Terrors Rage. This is Kent Brockman singing of from the Springfiled News saying "Give yourself up Bart" thank you and good night we now leave you with the delightful video of our Towns demise. (News ends with Soringfielders runnig away from Sherri and the Camera is left showing Sherri running towards it and she stops and makes a mighty roar and she looks down angrilly ate the Camera and she then lifts up her foot and crushes it under her giant purple sandals.
Lisa: (angrilly looks at Bart) see what all your shinanogans have gotten you? I don't know how they attained that monsterous size but all i know is that you have to fix this.
Bart: (looking scared) wh..what? I am not going to risk my life just because some stupid girl can't take a joke.
Lisa: Your the only stupid on here Bart Simpsons! If you don't go apologize to them, we will all be doomed! Please Bart! for the sake of Springfield, Save us!
Bart: Alright, Alright! shesh! I will try to fight the twins and maybe i will apologize but no more than that. (Bart leaves the room to go upstairs. Approches the stairs and turns around and looks at Lisa) if i survuve this. you owe me!(Lisa rolls her eyes) (Bart goes up to his room and looks for some ammunition. opens his closet and pulls out his Bartman costume with grappling hooks, bartmarangs and sling shot)
(dynamic scend as Bart suits up)
Lisa: What in earth are you wearing?
Bart: Well seeing as i am going to be saving people, i figured i would dress up as Bartman.
Lisa: (ahahahhaha) Thats priceless.
Bart: (angry look) laugh it up oddball, but with this slingshot and utility i am destined for victory.
Lisa: (stops laughing) You are going to use a sling-shot to stop two monsterous twins? thats ludacris!
Bart: Why not? ot worked for David.
Lisa: But he had the lord on his side and your.....Bart Simpson!(snickers)
Bart: (feels insulted) ha..ha..ha(sarcastically) very funny.
Lisa: Well good luck..Bartman. YOu will need it!
Bart: Whatever! (leaves his room and exits out the house on a skateboard)
(meanwhile back in the city)
Citizen: (running away from Terri while screaming) Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
(Terri stops and picks up and throws it on groung. Roats loudly)
Terri: Bart Simpsons! Bring us Bart Simpson!
(Sherri is right behind her and both girls continue smashing buildings and reeking havoc on the city, lifts up car)
Wiggum and cops: Alright you two! Stop destroying buildings and put you hands where i can see them!
Sherri: roooooaaaaaar! (lifts up arm i)
Wiggum: Thats it now slowly drop the car o the ground
Eddie: Uh Cheif i think she...
Wiggum: Not now Eddie, alright now bring you arms down to the ground
(Sherri smashes the police car with her empty fist)
Wiggum: O...kay! uhh.......nevermind continue destroying the town. (becomes filled with fear. Turns to Eddie and Lou) Run like hell boys! (all three of them run screaming) Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
(Sherri takes the Donut off the Lard lad statue and eats it)
(both girls head iver to Springfield Elementry School and begin destroying it)
Skinner: (on the ground) No, not my Beautiful School! (hands on head) alright you two(points up at them) You two are in big trouble! You destroyed School propperty and it is coming out of your parents wallets. Altogether, it will come to about $843 dollars and a...3 cents! (Skinner cringes as he hears the two girls growel and quickly pick him up)
Terri: Your not the boss of us you mediocre Principle!
Sherri: You heard us Skinflint! your a lousy Principle who still listens to his mommy!
Skinner: Thats not tr..true! you take that back!
Skinner's Mom: (from the ground) Seymour! you can't talk that way to children, apologize right now!
Skinner: Yes Mother!
Terri & Sherri: AHAHAHHAHAHAH! Say good-bye..Seymour!
SKinner: NO, wait? i apologize from my Vietnam veteran heart! what do you want? Bart Simpson? you can have him!, (Terri begins to lift him toward her mouth) uhhh, better school lunch? more asbestos! (Terri opens her mouth) Nooooo!
Milhouse: Stop it right there you..big...bullies!
Terri & Sherrri: huh?
Milhouse: You..heard me! pick on someone you own size!
Sherri: Like you you little 4 eyed pipsqueak!
Milhouse: (scared stiff) yeah! thats right me. i ca take both of you on! (Bart quickly arrives a couple feet away from Milhouse)
Bart: Whats going on here?
Milhouse: Get to a safe place Bart, i'll take on these to ugly weirdos myself!
Twins: Ugly! (growl in anger)
Bart: Milhouse don't be a Hero!
Milhouse: (go's into a rage and charges toward Terri's Foot while the action is in slow motion) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Milhouse: (kicks Terris big toe but has no effect on her) take that and that and that (Twins look at each other in a disappointed way. Milhousegets worn out after a coupl seconds and steps 12 feet from her foot)
Milhouse: How did you like them apples!
Bart: Milhouse i don't think you sho..(milhouse interuppts and becomes cocky)
Milhouse: Didn't think i had it in me did you. well i have enough strength to take on both of you. You can destroy our city, crush cars and even eat people.
Milhouse: But you can't not crush my spirit (camera looks down at milhouse at a birds eye view side angle) I will avenge my city and you can't step on my pride ( Terris foot comes slamming down on to of Milhouse and Bart watches as he gets grinded into the ground by Terri's sandal) Booooooooooooooooooooooooom!
Twins: Ahahahahahahaahaaahahahh! (give a high five to each other)
Bart: alright you two, prepare to meet your worst nightmare!
Terri: Well, well, well. Look who decided to show his dorky little face.
Sherri: You will Pay for what you did to us Simpson!
Skinner: Aha, i knew this was all barts fault! i just ahhhhhhh!
Terri: (tosses skinner up in the air and he lands on a nearby flagpole hanging by his underware) Yeah! you will end up just like your friend your little friend. Squashed!
Bart: Hey, you can't do that to skinner! wow, i am sticking up for the principle. i am a total sell out! well anyway i will not end up like poor Milhouse, you two will be eating my little shorts:
Sherri: Well see about that Simpson!
(Sherri lifts up her arm and tries to smash bart into the ground but Bart leaps into the air before her hand smacks the ground and Bart hooks his grappling hook on an nearby building and glides he is pulled to the top of the building)
Terri: You can't escape us! (try to grab bart on top of the bulding. Bart jumps up and avoids being grab)
Bart: Take this pale, tall and ugly! (throws bartmerang at Terris arm)
Terri: (gets stung by blade of the bartmarang.) Ouch! why you little...!
Sherri: You hurt my sister! (makes a fist and punches bulding so thhat it collapses)
Bart: (quickly jumps on Sherri's arm and runs up to her face to kick her in th nose.) Heya!(kicking sound)
Sherri: (reacts and holds her nose as it begins to bleed. SHe then grabs bart while he is trying to glide to another bulding) Now i've got you! Prepare to feel my wrath!(Sherri plucks Bart on to the ground)
Barthits the ground hard) Ouch!!! (gets up and feels achy) uhhhhhhhhhhhh! (look sup and jumps out of the way to avoid Sherri's giant hand from crushing him)
Sherri: (watching as bart avoids her massive hand) come back here you little creep!
Terri: (recovers from pain) I'll teach you a lesson you won't forgert Simpson!(begins tomping the ground)
Bart: (cracks his bones to feel better) Eat my....blaaaaaaah! (screams and moves out of the way of Terris stomping)(He runs over to Milhouse(who is now getting up and feeling in great pain from getting stepped on and he is tatereed with the Sandal's sole imprint on him)) Milhouse, your alive!
Milhouse: Yes! and i am cannot feel my body right now but all i can say is I Need a doctor. (faints on the floor and Bart goes over to pick him up to tak)
Bart: Don't worry Buddy, i will protect you!
Milhousewakes up and feels a little better) Y....Yo....You....Yo (Bart getting annoyed)
Bart: Out with it Milhouse!
Milhouse: You called me Buddy, i feel so special!
Bart: Thats right pal! now tell me, how do i defeat these two Nightmares!
Milhousecoughing) You can't fight them. It is mathmatically impossible. The odds are like..(coughs again) .. 99% to 1%
Bart: Never tell me the odds
Milhouse: There is a Way to stop thheir Rampage and..
Bart: Oh No! I'm not even thinking of doing that.
Milhouse: You have to Bart, its the only way! Please Bart! for the sake of Springfield, you must do it1
Bart: No! i will find a way to bring these two to their knees! (Stands up and drops Milhouse head)
Bart: I will be back for you later pal! (Runs towards TTWins)
Milhouse: Wait! I Need assistence (coughs again) i hate being the Dorky character in this show!
(Bart runs up to the Twins)
Twins: So you still wan to play with us huh?
Bart: Thats right losers, you can't get rid of me that easily!
SHerri: Alright then Simpson! How about we play a little, Jump rope?
Bart: ewwww, no that is so gay! I mean (looks at camera as if he is nervous about offending the homosexuals) girly!
Terri: Oh you won't be doing the jumping Bart!
Sherri: (Runs over to suspension Bridge and grabs the long cable to use as a rope. people on bridge begin screaming as the bridge snaps and lopsided)
Moleman: (hanging of the side of thebridge that collapsed) Why can't i just have a normal day?
Krabappel: (looking up from her car that is being held up by a beam) This is why i knew i should have quit teaching when i had the chance!
Comicbook guystandong on the side walk not on the bridge sipping a Squishee and looking at the monsters ) Worst Monster destroying a supension bridge ever!
Sherri: (wallks back over the Terri and hand the other cable to her and make it into a jump rope) We will be the only ones jumping the rope while you will be jumping..Dope! (starts laughing and snorts a little)
Terrilooks at her and rolls her eyes) Sherr,(she says in a soft voice) please stop with the jokes! It just..Not yo thang!
Sherri: (somewhat embarresed) Well..anyway, Simpson prepare to meet your doom!
Twins: Purple twins power, activate!(THey begin to glow)
Comic Book Guy: (sighs) Enough with the show copyrighted parodies already, this show does not have that type of budget! shesh!
(Glowing stops Twins clothes are restored to being clean and are fixed and they are both holding the rope)
Bart: That all you had to do! Man i thought you were going to tranformor something! I Caramba, Leave to a bunch of Stupid Girls to worry more about there appearence then anything else!
Terri: Lets kick his ass!
(They slowly begin to Jump rope and the whole town begins to shake)
Bart: Whaaaaa?(watches as twins charge toward him as they jump rope. Jumps out of the way as they pass him)
Sherri: Damn we missed him!(they slow down and stop and try it again) Lets try it again but faster and moe power.
Terri: This time we go to the rythm of...of...of.....
Sherri: well... say something!(looks at Terri and wonders what is wrong) Now What?
Terri: Oh sorry, The writer does not know rge name of the jump rope hyme so he is googleing it. It Takes awhile?
December was a most joyful time of year in South California. The sun was bright, just as the lights going up on the houses in neighbourhoods were. People seemed a little kinder; although shopping malls were filled to the brim with shoppers and retail workers grumped a little more often.
The drop in temperature not only meant the holidays were around the corner, but it also meant that school closure was as well.
And not only humans were getting ready for Christmas or Hanukah; animation studios across Los Angeles were already releasing holiday specials. Disney and Warner Brothers being two of the most competitive ones. It was a festive time as much as it was a time to celebrate rivalries—whichever cartoon hit the television sets first won the race.
But aside from the coming of his favorite time of year, nothing of that sort was on Ashton Bunny’s mind; especially what True Toons like his father were up to. This would be his very first Christmas in the city, the first Christmas he spent with others than his parents and grandparents. This time, he would witness how others his age celebrated the holidays, and how special it would be with the rest of the Looney Tunes and the Looney Kids around.
His best friend Penny reassured him that it was the most festive time among their families. The Looney Tunes always had some great activities planned for the gang and the children, every year on Christmas Day.
December was only a day away, and already the public school Ashton attended was decorated in green and red. After such a crazy Black Friday—that had been the first for him as well—the little rabbit was shocked to find people already getting ready for Christmas. Children seemed the most enthusiastic, especially when it was announced that Santa Claus was accepting letters and emails to the North Pole. Most children did that through the school, although Ashton had already gotten his sent a week earlier—better early than late.
“Hey Ash!” A human girl with pigtails shouted at the rabbit as she ran by in the hallway, “Didja bring an ornament to decorate for Art Class?”
Ashton gave her the thumbs up. “Packed in a box in my bag,” he shouted back.
“Awesome; can’t wait to see it! Meetcha in class!”
Public school had been the first time Ashton had been exposed to the world of humans and Toons interacting. When he lived in the forest with his parents, in their tiny cottage, the only humans he knew of were those who lived in the nearby village. But since Bugs and Lola had homeschooled him, Ashton had never gotten the chance to truly interact with any. Public school had been one of the best things that happened to him in his nine years of living.
The only thing about this public school that bothered him was the statuses of the student body: most children, human or Toon – though these last ones were still scarce—either were related to or knew someone who worked in the film or animation industry. It disheartened Ashton a bit, knowing that kids placed each other in categories like that, so he tried to ignore it as much as possible.
He looked up from his locker and grinned. Penny Pig arrived from her walk to school and stopped at her locker, next to his, all the while smiling at her best friend. “How’s this fine Friday treating you?”
Ashton giggled. “Hard to say, it’s not even nine in the morning yet,” he replied while hanging up his scarf and closing the locker door. “Didja walk here with Beebop again?”
“No, he spent the night at the twins’ place, so he got a ride with Tyrone and Trixie when their Mom drove them,” the piglet replied while taking off her jacket. “Are you going to head for the WB studios after school to wait for your dad to drive you back? Cuz if you are, I’m heading in that direction too. Daddy needs to take me to the hairdresser right after work.”
“Yeah, Dad said that he was gonna be working an hour extra so he said that I could walk over.”
He and Penny began the walk to class together, something they did most mornings. Of all his friends, Penny had been the only one who had instantly welcomed him upon his move to the city, and treated him just like any other kid, never expecting him to be an exact replica of his father. Beebop, the only child of the Road Runner, and the twins Tyrone and Trixie Duck, children of Daffy and Tina Duck, had a bumpy beginning in their friendships with Ashton, but within a month or two, they had also welcomed Ashton to the Looney Kids Gang, the name that most students at the school called them due to being the children of the Looney Tunes.
On any normal occasion, Ashton asked Penny questions about classes or else what they would do while waiting for their parents to finish work. Today, he was too caught up in the glittering garland hanging on the walls, and the poinsettias here and there. It was too colorful for him to begin any conversation; it was so distracting, in fact, that Penny was the only one who greeted their friends upon reaching their lockers.
It took Beebop’s exclamation and leap onto the rabbit’s back to bring Ashton back to the present moment with a laugh.
“Sooo, who’s goin’ snowboardin’ this Christmas break?” Tyrone said, beaming with pride. Pointing at himself, he said, “I am, that’s who. Trixie and I are goin’ for a whole weekend with our parents to a resort up North. It’s gonna be saaahhhweet!”
“You’re not gonna be around for Christmas?” Ashton asked. “But I thought the Looney Tunes always did something special with their families that day. That’s what Sylvester Junior told me.”
Trixie shoved her brother out of the way. “We’re going the following weekend,” she clarified. “Daddy wanted to go on Christmas, but Mom wanted to keep with the tradition. And since it’ll be your first Christmas here with us, she thought it was only fair.”
“Bee bop, bee bop!” Beebop cried out while leaping up and down.
Ashton grinned from ear to ear and skipped as they turned a corner. “I can’t wait to see what Christmas with the whole Gang’s gonna be like,” he said. “It must be the happiest, funnest time ever with all the Looney Tunes!” He looked at Penny. “Do you know if the other studio Toons do traditions like ours?”
Penny smiled wryly and shrugged. “Well, I dunno, Ash,” she said. “We usually don’t mingle with the True Toons from other Animation Studios. It’s—!”
“Against the laws of Nature,” Tyrone interrupted. He was replied by a smack over the head by his sister.
Penny rolled her eyes before continuing: “We don’t usually mingle because it just feels funny to,” she said. “Not because we can’t. Since we’re the first generation of Toons that were born, not drawn, it’s still a little awkward to cross paths. I think we should mingle a bit more but some of us, meaning Daffy Junior here, think it’s against the rules.”
“Well, Dad said it was,” Tyrone replied while rubbing his head where Trixie had hit him. “He says it’s been that way since World War Two or something. Because of the differences and rivalries between studios, they—!”
He raised his head as he spoke and noticed something ahead. Taken aback, Tyrone stopped in his tracks with a gasp. After a pause, he held out his arm in front of the young rabbit, taking Ashton by surprise and nearly causing him to fall backwards. A frown formed over the duckling’s brow. “Watch out, here come the rich dorks,” the nine-year-old grumbled.
Ashton, Beebop, Trixie and Penny peered around the duckling. Walking by them in the adjacent breezeway were three Toons—two were Senior Students, or so Ashton guessed by the jackets they wore. The thin one was a black dog with blue eyes and two large front teeth. He was bouncing a basketball in one hand while chattering with the plump black cat next to him. This one was busy looking over notes for an exam, no doubt.
The third student was perhaps only a few years older than Ashton. It was a white duckling, wearing purple attire. He was wearing a plaid backpack over his shoulders. His feathers were silky and his hair flipped forward in a type of frontward cowlick. His rolled up sleeves, the stubborn way he walked—with fists tight—and the frown over his brow seemed to warn other students that he was not someone to be messed with. It worked, since most students seemed to back away or whisper about him.
But it seemed out of place, to Ashton, since the duckling’s blue eyes did not look or feel as cold as his frown and movements were.
Deciding not to ponder it for too long yet, the little rabbit watched the three Toons walk by, silently wondering why he had never run into them since September. “Wow, they turn eyes,” he muttered, seeing all the students watch the trio walk by. “Who are they?”
Tyrone wrinkled his bill and narrowed his green eyes. “The D Gang,” he said coolly.
“The What Gang?”
“D Gang,” Trixie corrected him. She glared over her brother’s shoulder. “The most overly priced, hot-headed kids in this school.”
“Or on the face of the Earth,” Tyrone added.
Penny tugged on Ashton’s arm when her best friend only looked on in confusion. “They’re the Disney Kids,” she clarified. “Direct blood relatives of the Core Disney Characters.”
Ashton’s eyes brightened at the news. Despite being the child of Warner Brothers’ Toon icon, he was a big fan of Disney animation. “Ooo, they’re related to Disney people?” Ashton said with a grin. “That’s neat.”
Tyrone laughed sarcastically and looked at him. “Think again, Little Buddy,” he said. “They’re the most selfish and self-absorbed pack of brats you’ll ever find. They think that just because their parents are Disney stars, they’re the best of the best.” He pointed at the white duckling heading the group. “You see that walking snowball? That’s Dudley, Donald and Daisy Duck’s kid, and cousin of the Duck triplets, Hewey, Dewey and Louie. Second Toon Kid to be born in history, not drawn.”
“Donald’s son?” Ashton gasped.
“Yeah, and he’s the snobbiest of them all. He doesn’t talk to anyone, snaps at anyone who does talk to him, and doesn’t socialize. No doubt cuz he thinks of himself to be too perfect for the rest of us. Just like his hot-headed dad.” Tyrone pointed at the two teenagers, walking behind the duckling. “Those two there, that’s Max Goof and PJ Pete, Goofy and Pete’s sons. They’re probably the easiest to get along with out of them all, but I still stray away from them. That Max can sometimes be a sport show-off and PJ’s just a nervous wreck.” The duck leaned back and crossed his arms. “They’re a bunch of losers, if you ask me. They think that just because their dads have been successful longer than ours, they’re aaaaalll shedazzle.”
“I think Max is nice,” Penny muttered. “At least he is to me when he runs into me in the hallways.”
“It’s because he’s a gentleman. His dad’s probably the most level headed of all the Disney Characters save the Big Cheese, even if he is a Goofball. I mean, for a nutbrain like him to have raised a son on his own long before his two best buds became dads, that’s pretty smart.” Tyrone looked at Ashton again. “Max and PJ are also True Toons, by the way; even though they were born too, their existences were planned out and they have a set personality. So that’s yet another reason why they’re all high and mighty.”
Ashton was growing impatient with the black duckling. “Maybe you just need to be nice to them,” Ashton said, taking a few steps forward. “Mom always says you should be polite to people, even if they’re mean.” Not waiting for a reply, he raised his gloved hand and waved. “Hiya, Guys!” he called out.
Max and PJ turned to look at him. Max began to smile and raised his hand, but an anxious PJ quickly lowered it and told him to look away. Max looked at him for a moment before looking at Ashton again, raising his eyebrows and then continuing on his way.
“They probably just realized whose kid you were and thought it would be safer not to wave back,” Tyrone grunted. “See? They’re a bunch of suckers.”
“It doesn’t sound like you’ve even put in the effort to be nice,” Ashton noted with a frown.
“Ha! Be nice to them, are you serious?” Tyrone scoffed. “They’re stuck-up Princes!”
“You only think that because you know they’re kids of a rival studio’s stars and so you just watch them walk by with a grump. Have you ever spoken to them?”
“Talk to them? Has he gone nuts?” the duckling exclaimed. “Do you even realize what you’re saying, Ash?”
Penny pulled Ashton backwards. “He was homeschooled by his parents before moving here, Ty,” she said. “You know he doesn’t know better. He’s just gotta learn the ropes of this school.” She looked at Ashton and smiled pitifully. “What I said earlier is still true, but due to the intense rivalry between Disney and Warner Brothers, it’s kinda hard for Toon kids from those families to see eye to eye.”
Ashton wrinkled his nose at this and looked away while blowing his floppy ear out of the way. His father had never raised him in the odd manner of his friends—it had always been “treat others as you would have them treat you”. Bugs and Lola had always insisted that being kind to others was the best way to make friends, despite the boundaries Toons had between studios.
He suddenly realized something as he dwelled on the rivalry between Disney and Warner Brothers. Ashton pointed at the D Gang again. “There’s no mice,” he said.
“Mice?” Trixie echoed.
“Yeah. Like, where are Mr. Mickey’s kids?” When there was silence, Ashton flushed. “W-well, he does have at least one kid too, right? Since he was the first True Toon to become a father?”
Tyrone rolled his eyes as Beebop shrugged. “They don’t go to this school,” he said. “I think their parents put them into some prestigious private school. Figures, though; that rodent’s got enough money to pay them their own way in life. Boobs, they are.”
“You’ve never even met them!” Penny argued, hands on her hips. “None of us have. You can’t just call them boobs if you’ve never even met the Mouse family!”
“They’re all Disney Dorks, so they’re all boobs in my mind,” Tyrone complained. “Preppy bunch of Toons.” The bell for class rang and after looking up momentarily, Tyrone turned on his heels and walked back down the way they came from. “We should get to class before we get caught by the hall monitor again. I ain’t walkin’ in no hallway those Baffoons walked in, so I’m takin’ the long round.”
“Bee Bop!” Beebop honked as he ran after Tyrone. Trixie and Penny followed soon afterwards, but Ashton continued to stare down the hallway the group of cartoons had come from. After he furrowed his brow in confusion, he decided to question his parents that night at dinner on the matter, and dashed off after his companions.
I'm not exactly sure what I should say about this at the moment, other than it takes place in December 2012. So December 1st was a Saturday. The day of the first two chapters of this book are Friday, November 30th, 2012.
If I remember any other notes, I shall post them. Most info about the kids characters can be found on the deviations I posted.
story, Disney Kids, Looney Kids (c) KicsterAsh Max and PJ (c) Disney
Robert Terwilliger, otherwise known as Sideshow Bob had a frown on his face as he looked up at the banner on the outside of a building that said "Springfield Gamers, Video Game Convention" on it. He sighed as he looked down. "Why did I let myself get talked into this?" he asked in a thinking out-loud way.
"Because if you said no, your only son would throw a fit." came the voice of his younger brother Cecil who was standing beside him. The two had been dragged here by their sons Gino and William who as it turned out were really into video games which the two boys played quite a lot much to their fathers dismay.
"I am never going to understand these things or our sons weird obsession with them, for that matter." Bob stated to his brother as he crossed his arms. "I doubt any parent really does." Cecil added before he started to head inside the building, with Bob following him in.
Inside there was many tables set up and areas with stands that had people on them, talking. "Egad, how do they expect anyone to get around?" Bob commented upon seeing all of this madness. "I'm not quite sure." Cecil replied.
The two criminal brothers walked around, looking at each stand and table they briefly stopped at. Of course being into the arts nothing got their interest. "This is such a complete waste of time." Bob stated. "I agree." Cecil said in agreement. "Where are the boys?" Bob asked and Cecil pointed. "There." he said as he spotted them at a video game testing area. "Great." Bob grumbled.
Soon a voice called out "Hey there everyone and welcome to the con!" which made the brothers turn to see who it was as they both quickly recognized the voice. It was a 20 year old young man with blonde hair wearing a red shirt that had a skateboard on it, blue jeans and red sneakers who was standing on a stand area that had a big screen on it and some other equipment.
"Is that...Bart Simpson?" Bob asked with some surprise in his voice. "Appears so dear brother." Cecil replied. The two brother walked over, becoming part of the big crowd that was there.
"He certainly has changed since high school." Bob commented. "I heard that he's now a professional skateboarder." Cecil stated. "Really?" Bob asked. "Well he was always quite good on that thing." he said. "I also heard that he opened up a skate park for the children here in Springfield." Cecil added. "The boy's been busy." Bob said with a small hint of impressiveness in his voice. "Indeed." Cecil said in agreement.
"Well everyone glad to see all of you." Bart said into the microphone. "How everyone like my last game?" he asked and got many cheers for a reply. "How can he make video games?" Bob asked with skepticism in his voice. "His little girlfriend must of helped him." Cecil replied, referring to Mr. Burns' granddaughter Fiona or Fi as Bart called her. The two resident troublemakers had been going out since they were both ten and Fiona had became Bob's enemy not long after she started going out with Bart.
"That wouldn't surprise me." said Bob who knew that Fiona sometimes used her grandfather's money or resources to get what she or Bart wanted or to use against other people like Bob and even Cecil. The younger brother had devolved a grudge against the Burns' heir after she foiled Cecil's scheme to get control of the Power Plant.
"Ok, well I got a new game coming out and no it's not going to be a motion controlled one. I am not making the same dumb move as Tony Hawk." Bart said to the audience which got some laughter. "In fact this game isn't dealing with skateboarding at all." Bart added which got some of the con goers talking to each other.
"Instead this game will be dealing with some things from my childhood." Bart explained which caused Bob to raise an eyebrow. What from his childhood could of inspired Bart to make a video game of it? The screen then turned on revealing the game's title. Bob's eyes widen. The game title had his name on it and an image of him.
Bart then started to explain the game as some game footage was shown. Apprantly you had to figure out what Bob was up to in each level and stop his plan along with causing him injury by letting a rake be in his way, among other things and also pulling various pranks on him whenever he was in a public area. Bob's eyes narrowed in an angry way as he listened.
Bart then got to the bonus levels which is where the player took control of Bob and try to maneuver through a field of rakes which was easier said then done as the early game footage showed. Bob shook a bit while everyone else minus his brother laughed at what they saw.
Cecil glanced at Bob as he made his hands into a fist and got an angry, evil, murderess like look on his face. A look he hadn't had in the last four years. Cecil easily guessed what was going to happen next after seeing that and it wasn't going to be good.
Bob looked at Bart who was laughing along with the people there. 'Laugh now, Bart Simpson cause today will be the last day of your life.' the criminal genius thought to himself as he started to come up with a way to kill his arch-enemy.
Note: Please do not download this story unless you just plan to read it. If you want to draw a pic that deals with my fan-fic in some way (like drawing a scene from this) then you can do so as long as you credit me especially if one of my ocs is in it.
Here it is everyone. Chapter one of my 10 Years Later story A Bob Con. Sorry if it's short. I'm saving the good stuff for chapter two. Some of the stuff mentioned in this chapter (and likely in later chapters) takes place during my main Simpsons fan-fic series called New Residents which deals with Fiona's move to Springfield as well as my other ocs moving to the town for whatever reason they have. Also you may of noticed that Bart's outfit is a bit similar to his 10 year old one. I figured with the career I gave him, his sense of style wouldn't change much but at the same time wanted to show that there was some change that makes him not the same as when he was ten.
Bart Simpson, Sideshow Bob, Cecil Tewilliger and Gino Tewilliger created by Matt Groening
Fiona "Fi" Burns and William Terwilliger created by me
“Who’s turn was it to go trick-or-treating with Greg this year, Velma?”
“I’ll do it! I’ll go trick-or-treating with him this year.”
He could still remember the look on his parents’ faces when the fifteen-year-old shouted out in the kitchen. Greg had been packing his backpack after finishing homework with his mother, and his father had just arrived from work, ready to help make dinner. October had begun, and the hype for Halloween was upon the city. Greg had even thought of making his own costume again that year.
The age-old question that his parents often asked each other had come to mind, with the holiday a little over two weeks away: would Stanley or Velma take their seven-year-old son out trick-or-treating this year? The previous years, if the parents were working, it had been upon his older half-brother to take him from house to house before going off with his friends. And of course, Wirt had complained profoundly, stating that he had better things to do than babysit his baby brother.
This year was different, and although Greg loved the idea of spending more time with his big brother, it did not surprise him to see his parents look on in bewilderment.
“Pardon?” Velma said, as Stanley looked over his shoulder from cooking.
Wirt rubbed his arm. “I-I can take him trick-or-treating,” he said. “So you guys can relax this year or... you know, go to a party or something.” He smiled wryly and shrugged. “Enjoy yourselves; it’s Halloween. Grownups don’t enjoy stuff like this much nowadays, right?”
Velma blinked and began considering the suggesting of relaxation; her husband, however, put down his spatula and turned around to face his step-son. “Since when do you of all people jump to the opportunity of spending time with Greg, when you could be out with friends?” Stanley asked, hands on his hips.
Greg was interested in the answer as well. So he looked at his brother, who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Wirt swallowed. “Uh, I just feel like doing it this year,” he said. “And I can do it next year too, if you guys want more leeway. I mean, Greg’s already a handful the rest of the year so—!”
“But wouldn’t he be more of a handful when he’s running from door-to-door getting candies?”
Greg could see Wirt’s face get redder by the second. He was an easy person to intimidate, especially since he and Stanley had a complicating relationship, being step-father and step-son—Greg did not even understand it.
“I just... I just want to watch out for him and make sure nothing happens,” Wirt mumbled, twiddling his thumbs.
Silence fell over the kitchen again, followed by Stanley turning and passing a hand over his face with a heavy sigh. Greg looked from the man to the teenager, who had shrunk down again. Velma was the only one who was not fazed by her son’s response. “Stanley,” she began, “We could let Wirt—!”
“This has to do with that crazy story he keeps telling us about from last Halloween,” Stanley interrupted, keeping his back turned. “Bad enough they nearly drowned, but he adds that little bit in.”
“Stanley, he never said that. Wirt might just want to make sure Greg doesn’t get too wreckless.”
Stanley groaned behind his hand before facing the teenager again. A soft frown was over his brow. “This is getting ridiculous, Wirt,” he said, ignoring his wife’s attempt to stop him from speaking. “This story of yours has been going on for a year now. You’re stretching it too far.”
“It’s not a story, it really happened,” Wirt said, spreading out his arms. “We really did go to a place called the Unknown. I’m not lying about this, I swear!”
“It’s filling your brother’s head with silly ideas.” Stanley pointed at Greg, and for the first time, Greg felt intimidated by this gesture and tried to hide behind his backpack. “He’s always playing with that frog of his as if they’re being chased by some monster called the Beast who wants to turn them into Edelweiss trees—!”
“It’s called Edelwood,” Wirt corrected behind clenched teeth with a hint of dryness in his voice.
“Whatever it is, this has to stop,” Stanley repeated.
Wirt pointed at Greg, and this time the little boy was overwhelmed by the pointing fingers. His father and brother both had harsh voices when arguments began—something that happened more often now that Wirt was in high school. Having both of them point at him made him feel even the least bit afraid of the outcome of the argument.
“What about Greg, then?” Wirt said, as Velma rushed between the two and went to help her youngest son put his things away faster. “He told you the same story! Do you believe him?”
“He’s telling the story because you told it to him,” Stanley replied.
“That’s not true! I wouldn’t make something like this up, you know that!”
Stanley buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Stories like these are what set your uncle off on his speel about the supernatural,” he said. “It’s bad enough you two told him the story this summer when we visited Gravity Falls—you’re becoming as bad as Stan—!”
“He’s not my uncle,” Wirt said coolly. “He probably got all of that craziness in his head from your side of the family. As I recall, you were into the supernatural as much as he was at one point.”
“I didn’t make that story up!”
As the yelling intensified, Velma zipped up Greg’s backpack and handed it to him. “Go play in your room for a little bit, Greg,” she whispered to him, coaxing him off of the chair. “I’ll call you when it’s time for supper.”
Greg obeyed without a word and waddled out of the kitchen, leaving the storm clouds behind him. It was not always this stormy in the household, but since the boys had shared their near-death experience with their parents last year Greg’s father had been accusing Wirt of filling Greg’s head with ideas.
“This isn’t healthy, it has got to stop!”
“I’m not lying! Why don’t you believe me?”
Greg stayed in his room with Jason Funderburker until he heard Wirt’s all-too familiar stomping down the hallway to his bedroom. The seven-year-old put his toys down and opened his door to look at his brother’s, only to hear the teenager had locked it behind him.
When Wirt’s door was locked, it meant he needed time to cool off. So Greg let him be and decided to play a little longer on his own.
After ten minutes, he heard Wirt’s door open slowly and someone walk by his room and down the stairs. Greg was about to get up and follow him out, but when he heard his parents’ muffled “friendly dispute” downstairs through the floor—Velma called it that when they were not yelling at each other—he decided against leaving the safety of his room. The arguing was not an abnormal thing in their home; it happened just as often as any other good family. But being the optimistic boy that he was, Greg made it his mission to avoid them at all costs. Especially if they had to do with his father and brother.
After a few more minutes, he heard someone walk by the room again, heading down the hallway. The boy sat still, holding Jason in his hands, until he heard the door to the room next to his close quietly. Then, he set the frog down on the floor, gathered a bunch of his dinosaur toys into his tea kettle and rushed out of the room with his pet. Now was a good time to go see Wirt.
When Greg knocked on the door, the teenager opened it and let him in without a word. Greg announced that he was going to make some Dino soup “with a pinch of Lego berries” to help cheer Wirt up again.
And he stayed in Wirt’s room for an hour while his brother finished stuffing his school bag with things. Greg never paid any attention to what was being placed in the bag, and shrugged it aside when Wirt sat down on his bed and watched the boy make him “food”.
Eventually, there was a knock on the door and when Greg gave the visitor permission to enter—Wirt had not spoken for an hour—Velma peered into the room, smiling. “Are you making your brother more feel-happy food?” she asked the boy.
“Uh-huh,” Greg replied with a nod of his head. “But it’s not workin’ too well. He’s still moody and sad.”
Velma looked at him as she spoke before turning her eyes on the teenager sitting on the bed. When Greg did the same, Wirt only shifted his eyes from the frog sitting on his brother’s head to the dinosaur-covered floor.
“Gregory, do you think you could go play in your room for a little bit?” Velma asked, catching the boy’s attention. She entered the room, smoothing out her red skirt. “I want to talk to Wirt alone before dinner, if that’s okay.”
Greg liked it when his mother asked for permission to speak to one of them. It made his and Wirt’s relationship feel like it was something he should think of as important. “Okay,” he said with a shrug, hastily gathering up his dinosaurs and placing them in his tea kettle. “I’ll keep makin’ the soup in my room for you, Wirt. I’ll bring you a cup later.” With the frog leading the way, Greg left his brother’s room.
He had just entered his room and dumped all of his dinosaurs onto the floor when he realized one was missing. “Ah, cheese and crackers,” he said, looking at the toys. “I forgot the stegosaur in Wirt’s room.” Greg rubbed his chin. “I know Mom said she wanted to talk to Wirt all by herself, but the stegosaur is vital to tasty, well-done Dino Soup. It would be a real shame if I didn’t put it in.” He looked at the frog and grinned. “It’s also Wirt’s favorite dinosaur, which is a bonus.” He turned on his heels and dashed out of the room. “Wait right here, Jason Funderburker. I’ll be right back.”
Greg zigzagged down the hallway with his arms spread out like a plane, humming as he reached Wirt’s room. The door was partway open. Greg was ready to rush in just to get his dinosaur and excuse himself, but when he heard the talking about something he deemed serious, the boy slowed to a stop just outside the room, straining his ear. He was not one to eavesdrop, but something about this conversation was different than the others Wirt had had with their mother.
“Does he honestly believe I’d make that stuff up and keep it up for a year? Greg’s not even crazy enough to do that.”
“You know he’s just a little worried,” Velma said. “With your uncle’s growing interest in the supernatural—!”
“He’s not my uncle.”
“... With his brother’s interest in that sort of thing and my interest in mysteries, Stanley’s just a little scared. He’s a little more... wary of these things than the rest of us are. He’s not one to like thinking about the unexplained.”
There was some shuffling of feet, followed by the heavy sigh Greg often heard his brother heave when he was at his lowest point. This began to worry him and the boy continued to listen.
“I can’t take this anymore,” Wirt muttered as though he had something in his throat. “Everything I do is a mistake to him.”
“That’s not true,” Velma said sternly. “There have been plenty of times you two got along these past eight years. Stanley loves you, Wirt—!”
“Sure, as much as Dad did?”
That was a sheer sign that things were going downhill. Greg knew for years now that speaking about Wirt’s biological father was out of the question. Wirt had not shared with him the entirety of his past before Velma and Stanley had gotten married, but from what Greg had heard, he knew that the subject was a touchy one—apparently, the man had been a dud of a father.
“I heard what he said to you earlier. Said that I was exactly like him.”
“Stop that,” Velma said.
“That’s what I get for going downstairs and thinking of apologizing—!”
“You stop that, this instant,” Velma snapped. “You are not like that man. Don’t you ever think that way, you hear me? Stanley was only saying things because he was upset, Wirt. I know for a fact that you’re nothing like him—!”
“He never cared about me,” Wirt snapped back. “Every letter I sent him went unanswered except for the first one. In all honesty, once you compare the two, I’ve been treating Greg like he was nothing for years—!”
“Wirt, please stop.”
“So I am like him. I treat people I’m supposed to love like they’re nothing.”
“You and Greg are brothers. Siblings are like that. If you treated Greg the same way that man did, you wouldn’t have suggested to spend Halloween with him... You’re not like him, Wirt. You have a heart—!”
“Let me go.”
“Leave me alone,” Wirt yelled, heaviness in his voice. “Why can’t you just understand that I’m never going to be happy like that again? Happy endings are only for kids who don’t have screwed up, self-absorbed dads. Greg’s lucky you got married to someone who actually loves him.”
“Wirt, come back!”
Greg was about to dare peeking into the room when the door swung open and out ran his brother, backpack over his shoulders. He glued himself against the wall as Wirt passed him without notice. The teenager climbed onto the stair rail and slid down out of sight.
Greg watched him leave until Velma ran out of the room after the teenager. His mother shouted out for him to no avail, up until the front door of the house opened and slammed shut. Greg could feel the vibration of the impact in the walls.
As Stanley came out of the kitchen downstairs, wondering what was happening, Greg slid down to the floor and sat there, playing with his fingers as his parents discussed the severity of what had happened. Greg knew that both of his parents cared about his brother, but he was too young to comprehend the gravity of his mother’s first marriage. If only Wirt could hear the good things Stanley said about him while he was at school, things may have been different for him.
That gave Greg an idea. As a smile crept up his lips, the seven-year-old got back to his feet and ran into his brother’s now deserted room. “Heeheeheehee!” he said, attempting to sound clever.
The breeze was chilly that evening as the sun set, but Greg was nice and warm in his thick red sweater, something his mother had made for him for the changing seasons. Autumn had always been his favourite, so dressing in the colours of the trees was another reason for him to dress cheerfully.
He huffed and puffed as he ran down the sidewalk towards the one place he knew he would find his brother. Wirt had been gone for nearly an hour by the time Greg was able to slip out of the house while his parents were busy worrying about the teenager. He had packed all the essentials in his own backpack, having dumped it earlier of homework for the occasion. Jason Funderburker was left in Greg’s room to “keep watch”.
“Run, run, run,” the boy panted as he ran through the neighbourhood. “Run, run, run...”
The graveyard behind the church had been an old favourite place for Wirt’s friends to hang out, and since Greg began tagging along with his brother he was warmly welcomed into the traditions of the teenagers—even if he didn’t understand why they would go in there to sit and drink juice every Halloween. Over the past year, however, the stone walls that shielded the necropolis from the outside world had become a sort of shelter for Greg and Wirt—a place they could go to escape the craziness of their world and the emotional toil a step-family often brought upon Wirt.
It was also the one place they could go to get as close as they could to a world they knew not how to enter.
Greg ran down the path in the graveyard that took him to the far end, where the wall separated the graveyard from the train tracks and lake on the other side. The trees had already lost most of their leaves there, carpeting the ground in crunchy leaves. On any normal day, Greg would have spent hours just hearing the leaves crunch under his boots, but he was on a mission today.
“Wirt!” he called out to the teenager sitting on the top of the wall, back to the graveyard. Greg waved an arm through the air. “Wirt, Wirt, Wirt!”
Wirt raised his head and looked over his shoulder at the approaching child. “Greg, what are you doing here?” he said as his brother stopped at the foot of the wall.
“I came to run away with you,” Greg replied, holding the straps of his backpack.
“You don’t normally leave the house with your bag unless we’re going to school,” Greg said, “So I figured you were runnin’ away. So I’ll run away with you. That makes it less lonely, right?” He turned around and pointed at his bag. “Look; I even packed the essentials! A water bottle, some left over candy from last Halloween, a few candy bars and a banana, but that’s probably all squished up now.” He hopped in place with a grin. “So now I can run away with you! We can be our own family now. No parents, just us brothers!”
Wirt’s face cringed when Greg mentioned family, and once the boy was through, he turned away and leaned over his lap. “You should go back home, Greg,” he said as his brother ran up to the foot of the tree. “Mom and Stanley are probably worried about you.”
“So?” Greg replied as he climbed the tree. “They have each other to keep company. And I also left Jason Funderburker there, so they won’t get lonely.” When he reached the wall, he swung off of a branch and crawled carefully over to his brother’s side. “And since you’re running away all by yourself, I thought it would be better if I run away with you.” He sat down next to Wirt and hung his legs over the side of the wall. “It’s less lonely that way, you know? So you’ll still have a family to—!”
“Greg, just... go back home,” Wirt snapped, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. If you don’t go now, Stanley’s gonna find another reason to get angry at me.” His voice died away here and he let out a heavy sigh. “It’s better if you stop hanging out with me...”
“Why?” Greg asked as he pulled his bag off of his shoulders to pull something out. “Why would it be better if I don’t hang out with you?”
“... It just would be.”
Wirt groaned and pulled on his bangs without pulling his hands from his face. “Greg, please,” he said.
“But why would it be better if—!”
“Because your dad will stop worrying about me screwing things up and making you believe silly things,” Wirt snapped as his whole body tensed. “You don’t want to hang out with a liar, Greg; it’s bad luck. Mom and I did that for too many years and it’s just rubbed off on me. You don’t want my... bad luck.”
Greg played with something in his bag, unfazed by his brother’s snap. “But would it make you happier?” he said.
Wirt did not reply right away. As Greg looked at him, Wirt slowly peeked between his fingers. “What?” he whispered.
Greg shrugged. “Would it make you happier if I left you alone?”
Wirt blinked before covering his face again. “... No,” he said. “... I don’t like being alone for too long.”
“Then that’s why I’m gonna run away with you,” Greg said with a firm nod. “Mom and Dad have Jason Funderburker. So you need me. That way, neither of us will be lonely. And we’ll run, run, run. As far as we can run.”
Wirt sighed again and turned away before sniffing. “This isn’t about running away, Greg,” he said through the lump in his throat. “I don’t want to run away... I just don’t want to go back home. I don’t like being in a house where everything is my fault.”
“You’re too little to understand, Greg... You should just go home.”
Greg looked at him in silence for a moment before taking a deep breath and pulling out Wirt’s tape recorder he had brought with him. He looked up at his brother, making sure he was not paying him any attention, and then pressed down on the “play” button.
“I should watch what I say around that boy... He’s quieter than a mouse...”
The boy looked at his brother again. Sure enough, Wirt reacted to the recorded voice of his step-father and slowly turned his head.
“It’s a sensitive subject for him, I’ve known that since we started dating... Why can’t I keep my mouth shut when I get overemotional...”
Wirt peeked through his fingers and stared at the tape recorder in his brother’s lap.
“You both said insensitive things.”
“But he’s a teenager. Teenagers do that. Stan and I were at it all the time. I’m the grownup. I’m supposed to be a good role model for him, not point out the faults of that idiot who was supposed to be his hero. Even when I don’t think he’s listening, I need to watch what I say. Wirt already hated the world of men at such a young age because his father didn’t give him a second glance. He’s reluctant to put someone else on that podium because of that man, and me blaming him for something I don’t understand just makes the divide between us so much bigger... I don’t hate him, and I don’t want him to think that that silly story he and Greg keep talking about is poisonous. I’m just scared they’ll both end up as obsessed with the unexplained as Stanford is. As I once was... and can be, i guess... Or... you on occasion.”
“Oh, thank you, Honey.”
“I shouldn’t have said that. He’s nothing like Shaggy. Shaggy probably wouldn’t have suggested taking Wirt trick-or-treating.”
“No... Scooby actually went with him instead.”
“... When he comes back, I’ll tell him he can take Greg trick-or-treating... It’s not much but... I guess it’s a start...”
Greg pressed down on the “stop” button and put the tape recorder back in his bag before looking at his brother.
Wirt had removed his hands from his face and was staring at Greg’s backpack. His eyes were red, as though he had been rubbing tears from them for hours. He took a shaky breath and leaned his head against his left hand.
“You’re right, Wirt,” Greg said firmly. “I am too little to understand. I didn’t understand a lot of things that were said today. But I know Dad still loves you. He doesn’t always blame stuff on you.” He held up his hand and counted down his fingers. “Before I went to school, when his friends would visit and ask about you he always said that he really liked your clarinet playing and said that you were really smart at school. He said a few other things that I don’t remember or understand, but he does say nice things.”
Greg threw his bag over his shoulders and inched closer to Wirt’s side. “Also, even if he thinks you’re a liar, I don’t,” he said. “I know the Unknown was real. I remember the big scary dog, the gorilla, the Beast, I even remember Beatrice. And Adelaide not being the good woman of the woods.”
Greg threw an arm into the air. “So, because you don’t wanna go home, and you don’t wanna be alone, I’ll run away with you.” He grabbed Wirt’s right arm and threw it around his shoulders, making the teenager grin weakly. Greg looked at him with a bright smile and pointed at himself. “Because I want my brother o’ mine to be happy, and being alone doesn’t make him happy.” He set his head against Wirt’s shoulder and hugged him, just as Wirt tightened his grasp around the boy’s body. “I don’t think you’re a liar, Wirt. So you can always count on me believing you.”
Wirt did not say anything right away, but that was alright for Greg. It gave him a chance to keep hugging him, staying warm from the breeze that was beginning to pick up.
After a couple of minutes had gone by, Wirt straightened out, not forgetting to playfully rub Greg on the head. “Let’s go back home, Greg,” he whispered as they shared a smile. “Dinner’s probably ready.”
“Yuuummm!” Greg exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air before crawling back towards the tree, closely tailed by his brother. “Maybe I can finally try some molasses on my potatoes. Tasted good in the Unknown...”
Part 2:As Far as We can Run - 2/2 Wirt actually does get along with his stepdad to a certain point, but yeah. Also, I always figured that Stanley would be just as into the supernatural stuff as Stanford is, but since he eventually got a family he probably got a little more cautious about certain things at one point.
characters (c) their respected owners story (c) KicsterAsh
Wrapping the gifts proved to be the most productive and pleasurable part of the week, or so Bugs thought so. Every person had their own roll of wrapping paper, and tape was tossed from one end of the entrance to the other. Mickey ceased using his magic once the gifts were all indoors but warned that the ice would remain another three hours; they should be cautious before heading out.
“Why three hours?” Morty wondered as he helped his brother wrap. “Why not sunset or midnight or somethin’?”
“Midnight is so retro,” Mickey replied, in a tone that made Minnie laugh.
“But why three hours?”
“Because three’s my favorite number. That’s why.”
“You can choose for it to last for three hours because you want it to?”
“Morty, just deal with it and wrap the presents.”
The children sang carols along with Pluto and then asked Scrooge to tell them a story. Since it was Christmas time, the duck shared one story from his childhood, which of course featured Huey, Dewey and Louie’s grandmother. Being the talented story teller that he was, Scrooge was even able to capture the other grownups’ attention—at least until it was break time.
By seven in the evening, all the gifts had been wrapped, and by twenty-after, they had all been placed in large bags and set in the back of Minnie’s van. The next morning, it was planned that Bugs would drive the Seville Brothers to Warner Brothers Studios in order to pick up their instruments and then meet Mickey and WB’s camera crew at the Children’s Hospital. Mickey would drive the children and Pluto there, along with the gifts.
“We’ve got one shot at gettin’ it right, so let’s make the most of it,” Mickey said to the children and the Chipmunks. “Let’s have some fun tomorrow and make people want to donate.”
“I’m game,” Alvin agreed. “Let’s show everyone what cross-studio collaborations can really do.”
Ashton held out his hand, and Andrew, Susie and Timmy immediately set theirs over his. Pluto followed their gesture, tailed by the Chipmunks.
Mickey grinned and set his on top of theirs. “I can’t wait to see the looks on the kids’ faces,” he said while looking at Bugs.
Bugs grinned cleverly in reply before setting his hand down on top of his friend’s. “I can’t wait to see the look on our pals’ faces,” he said, making the others laugh. “Here’s to our team.”
“Here’s to the Magic of Christmas,” Mickey added.
Ashton giggled and looked up at the grownups. “Here’s to a successful collaboration between Bugs Bunny and Mickey Mouse,” he concluded. The others nodded their agreement, and when Bugs and Mickey only looked on in silent wonder, the nine-year-old gave them the thumbs up. “I think things worked out right, don’t you?”
Bugs and Mickey continued to stare at him until they finally looked at each other. Once the reality had settled in, smiles spread over their lips. As Bugs hopped in place and bared a toothy grin, Mickey giggled and danced. “Ho-hoooo, boy!” he said.
Susie leaned towards Ashton. “I think that means they agree,” she whispered.
Danny had always told his friends and his teachers the same lie when it came to his parents. They were inventors who worked for the government on some secret project that was so important that they couldn't even reveal anything about it. Well it wasn't entirely untrue, they were inventors, and they were working for the government on some big hush hush project that helped pay the bills and fund their other passion. The one that they'd prefer to put on their resume.
Ghost hunting. If it had been the variety with psychics and cam recorders and EVP detectors then he'd be a little less embarrassed. It was still embarassing, but a little more sane than what his parents did in their spare time. You see they had a more... scientific approach to ghost hunting, that seemed less methodical and logical, and more like something someone might come up with while watching ghost busters on angel dust. They had this thought in their heads that if you could see, hear, and (in extreme cases) feel a ghost, then you catch it, and dissect it.
This is where Danny and his parents differed on the subject. He'd been brought up by his parents to believe in the existance of ghosts, but this had gotten him thinking, and his sister Jazz as well. If a ghost was a human who'd died, then what's to say that you aren't cutting up someone's great aunt Sally? However he kept his mouth shut about it, mostly.
He also kept his friends away from his family's house/ restored apartment complex (they owned the entire building, and they used most of the space that would be other apartments for "research") At least when his parents were home. With his parents away and not spouting nonsense about ghosts he could downplay the crazy enough to make them seem more like ecentric inventors. The day his friends came over he'd expected his parents to stay in the basement all day working on an invention.
He was wrong.
They'd come up all excited that they'd finally worked all the kinks out of they're ghost portal. Apparently there was a prototype that they had based the design on, and they had figured out what went wrong with that one. They'd dragged Danny and his friends downstairs, to witness the portal, the accumulation of all of their life's work.... Whir and glow green for about five seconds, then slowly sputter and die.
Although Sam and Tucker had half heartedly tried to reassure his parents that even though it'd failed, it had done something, which was worth something, Danny could see in their eyes that they had given up. Although having two teenagers try and cheer them up had made the blow worse, the mortified expression on Danny's face probably hadn't helped either.
After they'd left to take off their jumpsuits and put on normal clothes, Sam had begun to slowly inch closer to the portal to get a better look. Danny was holding the jumpsuit that they had given him (the one they had wanted to personalize at first, but had decided against after Danny had (half jokingly) threatened to never speak to them again if they did) and trying to decide how in the world he would make it up to them after he'd pretty much confirmed the fact that he thought that they were completely nuts, and that he was embarrassed of them. Tucker, of course, was glued to his blackberry.
Danny was trying to decide whether making them breakfast tomorrow or saving up money to buy them a new EVP detector would be a better option when Sam piped up. "Danny you should totally go in there." Danny was aghast. "Sam, do you know how dangerous that thing could be? I mean there could be exposed wires, it could be radioactive, I mean judging by my parents' other failures it could even explode while I'm in there." "Coommmme onnnnnnnn. I mean, you can't tell me that you aren't just the tiny bit curious about what might be in there." Danny adopted a stern expression that he'd seen so often on grandpa Fenton. "No means no Sam" Sam pouted and then got a devious expression on her face "Well..... if you won't go in... I guess I'll just have to" She snuck up next to him and made a grab for the jumpsuit. "Go in there myself" Danny was horrified, letting Sam in there was like setting a two year old in front of a power outlet with a fork. It wasn't that she was stupid, it was just that, despite her dark sense of humor and gothic clothing, she had a way of being headstrong and not thinking things through when she got excited about things. Danny knew that even if he didn't let her have the jumpsuit, the moment that he got distracted and turned his attention away from her, she'd go poking around in there, and the last thing that Danny wanted was for Sam to get hurt. So he sighed in defeat "Alright, you win, But you've got to be the look out, if my parents find out that I've been messing with that thing they'll kill me," After Danny had pulled on the jumpsuit, he walked behind Tucker and grabbed his shoulder and shouted boo into his ear. He jumped about a foot into the air and gave him a sour expression when Danny and Sam began to laugh. "Yeah yeah yeah, VERY funny. But I'll have you know that if I even so much as SCRATCHED Bertha you two would be paying for it." Danny stopped chuckling after a few minutes and got serious. "Tuck since you're the only one with a phone, I need you to be the one to call 911 if something happens" Tucker rolled his eyes "You do realize that the reason it cut off is because there wasn't enough power to sustain the-" Danny cut him off "TUuuck" Tucker gave him an exasperated expression and then smiled "Paramedics are standing by, I got your back dude." Danny turned his back on his two best friends and grabbed a flashlight that his parents had been using earlier when they were working on it.
He would be lying if he said he wasn't just a little excited at the prospect of going inside the portal. Somewhere in the back of his mind he halfway expected to find a pale specter moaning about inside, even though that was ridiculous, The real reason why he was sort of excited about going in there was the idea that he might be able to find out what was wrong with it (other than the whole concept of a portal to a dimension where ghosts roam freely) if he could get it to work then maybe he could get a little respect from his parents. He was a C average student, and was almost completely ignored in favor of his rising senior sister who was well on her way to graduating top of her class and being the brain surgeon/ psychologist that his parents would always want him to live up to. If he could fix this then maybe his parents wouldn't think of him as the brain dead failure they acted like he was.
However as Danny entered the pitch black portal his heart sank. The entire thing wasn't as sleek as it looked on the outside. The floor was pretty much a mass of wires. If he was to figure out what was wrong, then it'd take him days rather than a few minutes, and the fear of being electrocuted by a exposed wire was very, very, real here. but after gulping and turning on his flashlight he pressed on. He was almost at the end of the tunnel when his foot caught on a loose wire. desperate not to pull something loose or fall on his face like a doofus, he stuck his hand out against the wall to try to steady himself, to his horror his hand didn't hit something firm and solid, but something that gave a little as his hand touched it. He quickly shined his light on spot where his hand had landed, and his heart stopped as he realized that it was a on button. He could hear the machine audibly whirring as he struggled to try to get his foot loose and get to the exit before it started up, and he shouted to Sam and Tucker to get back. Finally he got free, but it was too late as the whirring came to a horrifying crescendo, and excruciating green light filled the tunnel. Then he couldn't think anymore. All he could do.... Was scream.
After seeing spider man yesterday I got the inspiration to write this. If Danny Phantom was made into a movie, it should be a prequel, and it should be a little more edgy than the series was. Most of the Danny Phans who have been with the show since the beginning are right now at least 12 years old. Most of them, however, are in their twenties, and a smaller percentage could be in their thirties or forties. Most fans would want to see the movie just for the heck of it even if they've grown out of cartoons, so it'd be best as a live action movie with a REALLY good special effects budget as well as anything budget. In the show we meet Danny a few months after the incident, which probably happened over summer break, presumably towards the beginning of school. We get an idea of what happened, but we're left in the dark about how he discovered and got a basic control over his powers, and why his parents are still ghost hunting if "they just quit"? The trick would be to make it edgy enough to keep older kids, older fans, parents, as well as adults and teens who haven't seen the show, or basically just know of the show, interested, but like any other superhero movie, or live action movie based on a cartoon there's going to be kids who are going to come see it, so it can't be too dark, or too scary. But it's also got to have some sort of lesson in there too (spoilers) So taking all this into account, I'm writing a sort of movie based book (which usually accompanies every superhero movie that comes out) that details the plot. Hopefully, you'll enjoy it and hope with me that when and if the movie comes out, it's something like this (disclaimer, I don't own DP or the rights to the movie, this is a work of wishful thinking by a fan, not an official thing)
Edit: I never thought that this would get this popular Here's some brilliant fanart [link]
As is usual for an episode of The Simpsons, our story begins in Springfield.
Bart Simpson wrote on the chalkboard "I will do something meaningful instead of writing a fic that celebrates an immortal show." As soon as the bell rang, he went out on his skateboard.
He bounced atop a pile of leaves Groundskeeper Willie was raking on his way, revealing Barney Gumble to be buried beneath the leaves.
We cut to the Springfield Nuclear Power Plant, where Homer once again leaves with a carbon rod under his shirt.
Lisa Simpson is yet again kicked out of music class by Mr. Largo for deviating from the song the class was supposed to play. As usual, she blissfully walked down the halls while still playing her saxophone.
Marge drives home with Maggie playing with a toy steering wheel. Both of them honk their horns, which wakes up Grampa, who was also in the car.
Eventually, the entire family made it home.
Everyone sat on the couch and sighed, as if they had been doing hard grueling work this past 27 years. "Oh", Homer groaned. "Why is it that every time we go to sit at the couch, something weird happens to us and the television shows the names of the guys who made our show?"
"I don't know if our show can stand another episode, let alone another season", said Bart. "One day, we were crudely drawn filler material on the Tracey Ullman show. The next, we have our own show lasting 25 seasons with a 26th season coming up soon. I wonder why Matt Groening still allows our show to continue. Didn't he say that his intentions were to end it at the 9th season?"
"The reason for our show's longevity is simple, Bart", said Lisa. "Because we're very popular and an easy way to make money is to sell merchandise of or related to us. As far as the greedy executives are concerned, we're merely an efficient way to make lots of money."
"Shut up, Lisa. Nobody cares what you think", Bart snapped. "Bart", Marge scolded. "What did I tell you about insulting your sister?"
"To support or at least tolerate her opinions no matter how preachy she is about them", Bart said in a nervous tone of voice. "Dear God, what has happened to us", Homer cried. "We've existed for 27 years, and yet I'm surprised we stayed stable during the 13th year! We need help!"
"Do you want me to call Dr. Marvin Monroe", Marge asked. "No! We need help from OUTSIDE our world of fiction. Besides, that guy's voice is kind of annoying!" From out of nowhere, a lanky man with stubble and glasses appeared.
"I'm Bart Simpson. Who the hell are you?" The stranger chuckled and said "I can't tell you my real name, but you can call me Travis Helpman. I overheard your desire to help overcome your lack of enthusiasm and depression over your show lasting longer than others."
"And what exactly do you know about us, Mr. Helpman, if that is your real name", Homer snarled. "Chill, Homer. I know that you work at the Nuclear Power Plant in Sector 7G, your best friends are Lenny Leonard, Carl Carlson, and Barney Gumble, you married Marge because Bart was, well, an accident. No offense, Bart?"
"None taken. It's brought up all the time", Bart replied. Helpman continued. "And even though the unintentional pregnancy forced you two to get married, you stayed together because you genuinely loved each other. I also know that as the seasons went by, Lisa became a vegetarian and converted to Buddhism, Bart has a driver's license that as far as I know was never revoked, Ned Flanders became a widower twice, and lots of other things I don't have time to discuss."
"Are you sure", Homer asked. "Sure I am", said Travis. "If I tried to talk about every single major development or such that happened on your show, this fan fic would take forever to write. And that's disregarding the fact that your show didn't really have any continuity to speak of. In one episode, Groundskeeper Willie's real name is Dr. William McDougal, yet many other episodes make it clear that he had very poor education."
"Just like the reason I'm an idiot", said Homer. "Sometimes it's because I shoved a crayon up my nose when I was a kid, sometimes it's this Simpson gene that Dad is always yammering about. I'm also pretty sick of my religious beliefs being changed constantly."
"Well, the reason for that, Homer, is that The Simpsons has had a lot of writers work on it. And naturally, different writers will have different opinions on what a particular character is like. That's why you believe in God in some episodes and are an atheist in others."
"Is there anything wrong with me", Marge asked. "Nothing, except you can be a real C-word at times." Marge got angry. "You know, control freak?" Marge calmed down. "I suppose I was a little aggressive at times, like the times where I try to force Lisa to abandon her vegetarianism, or in White Christmas Blues where I made a big deal about the second verses of Christmas songs."
Marge began to sob uncontrollably. "I am a monster!" "Now, don't be so hard on yourself, Marge. As flawed as you all can be, I still find you funny and entertaining. I watched every single episode of your show, including the old Tracey Ullman shorts, and I never watched an episode I didn't regret."
"Really? You don't regret seeing The Boys of Bummer and That 90's Show", Bart asked. "Because those are our most reviled episodes. But before you explain your opinions on those episodes, I got to do something I've been itching to do for a long time."
Bart got on the phone and called Moe's Tavern. Moe Syzlak answered the phone. "Hello, who is this", he yelled. "I'm looking for a Mr. Sissy, first name Ima", Bart answered while doing his best to suppress his laughter.
Moe looked around the bar. "I got a call for a Mr. Sissy. Hey, everyone! Ima Sissy!" Everyone in the bar laughed at Moe. Moe got furious and said "Now listen, you little punk! That crank call wasn't even clever! One of these days, I'm going to find out where you live! And when I do, I'll use your blood to paint a barn and shove a rabid wolf where the sun doesn't shine!"
"Okay, Bart. What prank name did you use on Moe this time", Travis asked. "Ima Sissy", Bart answered. "I know it's not much, but making up those names is very hard. Why do you think we stopped doing them in Season 4? Anyway, please tell us why you are willing to defend the two worst episodes of our show ever."
"I know that The Boys of Bummer was horrible for having the whole town be unreasonably cruel to Bart for missing the pitch at a ball game, but it was nice that the other Simpsons would have none of that and persuaded the town to give Bart another chance. My favorite part was when Bart kept on screwing up again and Moe tried to stall everything by streaking."
"Well, that takes care of The Boys of Scummer", said Lisa. "What do you have to say about That 90's Joke?"
"As I've read in reviews of the episode before I actually watched it, many people derided the episode for violating continuity. As I said before, continuity is pretty much non-existent in your show. The only real constants are Homer's job and the deaths of Frank Grimes, Maude Flanders, and Bleeding Gums Murphy, to name but a few.
You did kill off Snowball II and Fat Tony, but you kind of cheated by having them replaced by identical substitutes. Snowball's identical replacement was still called Snowball II to save money for a new food bowl and Fat Tony was replaced by his identical cousin Fit Tony, who eventually became fat like his predecessor."
"I thought you were talking about why you didn't mind That 90's Show", Bart complained. "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I trail off sometimes. I admit it was pretty jarring for Marge to leave Homer for a professor who was a total jackass, but I felt quite cathartic seeing that son of a female dog get the crap beaten out of him!"
"I grade your defenses with a C-", said Homer. "And no offense, but you're kind of boring. 30 or so paragraphs in and we haven't even left the house!" "I'm sorry, Homer. Where would you like to go?"
Homer had a huddle with his family while they discussed the matter. "We've all reached a compromise", said Homer. "We'll organize a special tour of Springfield. We'll take you bowling at Barney's Bowl-a-Rama, show you a lovely view of Springfield Gorge, and then we'll go to eat at Krusty Burger."
At the Bowl-a-Rama, Mr. Burns and Waylon Smithers observed the family and their new guest. "Smithers, who is that weirdo?" Smithers answered "Uh, that's Homer Simpson, sir. He's one of your chair-moisteners from Sector 7G." "No", Mr. Burns growled. "I'm talking about the OTHER weirdo. The one with those newfangled bifocals!"
"I don't think this guy is from here, sir", answered Smithers. "Would you like me to release the hounds?" "Fiddlesticks, Smithers", Mr. Burns replied. "I can't just release the hounds on everyone I don't trust! Now go and release the hounds on that little boy who stares at my windows! I don't trust him!"
At Springfield Gorge, Travis Helpman made an impressed whistle at the sight of the Gorge. "Hmm", he said. "24 years and that ambulance is STILL there?" "Good", Homer noted. "I won't have to bore you with that lengthy flashback where I fall down the Gorge and hurt myself, since you clearly already know about that incident!"
Finally, the family went to Krusty Burger. Krusty was filming another commercial at the place. "Presenting The Mystery Sandwich! This sandwich has a meat that is very tasty, but nobody knows what animal it came from! A purchase of every fifth Mystery Sandwich gives you a free side of fries!" In the commercial, a disclaimer quickly read "The every fifth sandwich purchase is just a lie to get you suckers to buy more of our nightmarishly unhealthy food."
"Well, I've enjoyed my stay, Simpsons, but now I got to go." "But what should we do now that you're leaving us", Homer sobbed. "Just do what you guys do best. Homer, keep on yelling D'oh after doing stupid things. Bart, still tell people to eat your shorts. Lisa, Marge, and Maggie, you three try to keep Homer and Bart from getting out of line."
Maggie giggled and waved goodbye. "One more thing", Marge said. "Do you want to know who's going to be killed off in the Season 26 premiere?" "No thanks, Marge. I prefer to be surprised. So long, Springfield."
Back at home, the Simpsons family had a rekindled enthusiasm in entertaining the world. After Bart, Lisa, and Maggie went to bed, Homer and Marge snuggled and looked back at the good times they had together.
"The show can go on for as long as it has to", said Marge. "Yeah", Homer said, "but one thing is clear. The Simpsons may be immortal, but the people who make the show most certainly aren't."
Now that I have finally caught up with The Simpsons, having watched the original Tracey Ullman shorts, all 25 seasons, the short film The Longest Daycare, several of the music videos and Butterfinger commercials, and The Simpsons Movie, I make this Simpsons fan fiction that both pays tribute to one of the greatest and longest-lasting shows that was ever conceived as well as poke a few friendly jabs at the show's longevity and lack of continuity.
I originally had no intention of making this a Self Insert Fic, but I couldn't think of a better way to have someone address the show's faults and saving graces.
The Simpsons Family feel stuck in a rut due to having over 25 years of a continuously running animated series, so a man named Travis Helpman (NOT even remotely my real name) offers to help Homer, Marge, Lisa, Bart, and Maggie renew their passion of being one of the world's most recognizable TV families.
But they must be very careful, for there could be devious plans devised by the likes of Mr. Burns, Sideshow Bob, Fat Tony, and even Kang and Kodos.
Twenty years or so had passed by, yet that old graveyard was still the same. It was as if time never trickled by in this garden of souls, despite the seasons changing. Perhaps that was why it was still a go-to place when the world was crazy or storm clouds rolled in.
And the garden wall was still as sturdy as it had been decades earlier. Just as it could support children who dared to climb its stones, it could support a full grown man.
Which, in Greg’s case, him being six feet tall with a sturdy build, was a good thing.
As the warm early-September breeze blew through his thick locks of hair, Greg sat there, waiting patiently for the negativity to pass. He looked at his cellphone, tipping it back and forth in his hands before looking down the hill beyond the train tracks at the lake, partially sheltered by the forest on the neighbourhood’s borders. The trees were beginning to change hues again, and Greg found that counting the leaves as they fell to the ground helped ease the storm and made time pass.
He heard someone run his way from within the graveyard, but he did not look over his shoulder. He already knew who it was, and despite the tardiness he was glad he had still shown up.
“Sorry I’m late!” his brother said through pants at the foot of the wall. He immediately began climbing the tree, groaning at the effort—Wirt had never been a graceful tree climber. “There was a major collision downtown on the street I take home... like, a six car pileup. Absolutely crazy. Nearly an hour behind schedule. So I just picked something up from the store and came straight here.”
When he heard the man climb onto the wall, Greg finally turned his head. His brother cautiously rose to his feet and balanced himself while walking over, a bag in one hand. “I didn’t make you wait too long, did I?” Wirt asked, walking over to Greg’s side.
“No, not long,” Greg replied, though he figured it would be best not to tell him that he had been waiting for forty minutes. “Just counting the leaves as they fall. You didn’t miss much.”
Wirt groaned as he slowly lowered himself into a sitting position next to his brother and swung his feet over the side of the garden wall. “Man, I really need to climb more trees,” he said, straightening out his coral pink ascot. “I’ve lost my touch. I don’t know how you can do it. You’re so much wider than I am.”
“I think having to chase the twins up the backyard tree to pull them out for dinner was practice,” Greg joked. He made gestures with his hands. “They would manage to get themselves high up in the branches, only to be too scared to come down. It was like picking apples every day of summer. Bonnie had to tell them to stop after a while or else they’d be grounded.”
Wirt chuckled. “Mabel was scared of heights?”
“Neh, she only cried because Dipper would cry. After a while, she could climb down no problem, but Dipper never really learned. So he would follow her up, only to get stuck. So we said no more climbing unless one of us was outside to go apple picking.” He paused before laughing weakly. “Though we don’t have that problem anymore; Mabel became scared of heights right after their summer in Gravity Falls... Never told us why.”
Wirt raised an eyebrow before frowning. “I told you that place is nuts,” he said.
Greg shrugged in reply, not in the mood to talk to his brother about the hometown of their uncle. As Wirt pulled out a stone from his pocket, Greg leaned over his lap and looked at him. “So, how was your day?” he asked, pushing his glasses up.
Wirt shrugged half-heartedly. “Eventful,” he replied. “Had another book signing at that fancy shop downtown... Mom still likes to tease me about how my poetry got so popular.”
“You write it like a story, that’s why. Complex stories is in, I hear.”
Wirt tossed the rock in his hands up and down. “Then at noon, I had a doctor’s appointment,” he said. He tossed the rock as far as he could, watching it bounce down the hill until it rolled into the lake. “Got a new prescription. Then I met up with Sara for coffee since she’s back to visit her parents. And she told me about how Jason Funderberker went to a dance club with Lucille and totally spilled alcohol all over his pants. Had to dance with pants that made it look like he had an accident.” When Greg choked on a laugh at these words, Wirt snickered. “Sucker.” He tossed another rock towards the lake. “That was probably the highlight of my day. Then I went to drop off my clarinet at the shop to get it cleaned and bumped into a group of creative writing students at the university who were fans of my first book.” Wirt made a grimace and shuddered. “When did I ever get so popular? I write poetry and sometimes give lectures at the university. I’m boring.”
“You’re interesting, though,” Greg replied, placing his chin in his hands. He stared over the lake. “You’re smart and you write poetry and prose really well. Dipper talks about it all the time; Uncle Stan says it gets annoying but he got a couple of his friends from Gravity Falls into your stuff. And Mabel loves your stories and your instrument playing so—!”
“That’s probably because that kid she met over summer a year ago is a musical prodigy,” Wirt grumbled as he tossed another stone. “Apparently, Ferb can play more than a dozen instruments. And sing like an angel. Whoop-dee-doo.”
Greg shook his head with a smile but decided not to continue on that subject. Wirt was protective of his niece and nephew, and even more so with Mabel. When Mabel would write him letters during her summers or vacations, she often mentioned the boy she had met and stayed in contact with. It irked Wirt to the point that he thought the boy was a pest that had to be disposed of. What made it funnier was that neither her parents nor her uncle had even met the boy yet.
“But I’m in a good mood today, so let’s talk about other things rather than the upsetting,” Wirt said with a sigh, leaning back over the wall. He looked at Greg. “How was your day?” he asked, as though expecting an exciting story.
Greg did not look up at him. He shifted positions before replying. “Eh, not that great, honestly,” he said. “Was on the phone all morning with problems for work... Meeting didn’t end well... Then at one got a call about an order that would be an extra week late due to a hurricane... Then the twins came back from school sour with each other. Dipper had a black eye—apparently he tried to pick a fight with a guy who was being a little more than teasing with Mabel, and ended up getting stuffed in a locker that his sister had to get him out of. She was mad that he embarrassed her—can you imagine that—and he was mad that she wasn’t bothered by the bully. To top that, Dipper did less than averagely well on his math test so he had to retake it. When I said no video games that day, they both got angry, Mabel said it wasn’t fair, blah, blah, blah-bah-dee-blah.”
He paused here, noticing that his face had cringed the more he spoke, and after sighing the frown away, Greg buried his face in his hands and rubbed it. “And then Bonnie came back from work and got angry at me for not sitting Dipper down in the kitchen and having him go over his math for failing his test. She said I’m too easy on them sometimes. So when the tension rose, and before I started yelling, I went for a walk and texted you to meet me at the garden wall... and here we are.”
An uneasy silence fell over the two of them once Greg had finished. Wirt chewed on the inside of his cheek, looking this way and that, before clearing his throat. “Okay, that’s exceptionally abnormal,” he said, catching Greg’s attention. “Since when do I have the good day and you have the bad day?” He made gestures with his hands. “It’s usually the other way around.”
“I dunno, just happens, I guess,” Greg replied with a sigh and a weak shrug. “It’s happened a few times. We’re not the picture-picture perfect family people always think of us as, Wirt. We have disagreements. And arguments. Like normal families. They just happen less often because we know how to work around each other’s differences and weaknesses. But when it happens, it’s like I can often be the one everyone decides to get upset at. Maybe because I’m too nice? I dunno...”
Wirt said nothing. Greg waited to see if he would, but he heard neither a sigh nor the sound of Wirt tossing another stone into the lake. It almost disappointed him, but he knew Wirt was a better listener than a talker when it came to emotional subjects. Only the birds singing, geese honking as they flew overhead, readying for the migration, and cars driving by in the distance, met his ears. It was calming, and on most days Greg appreciated the little sounds of ambiance.
Today, it was not enough to ease his heavy heart or push away the clouds. So Greg set his chin in his hands again and stared over the lake at the bottom of the hill. “Maybe I’m not doing something right, Wirt,” he said. “Maybe I messed up somewhere yesterday. You know, stepped on a crack, or saw a black cat cross the street, or walked under a ladder... Or maybe it’s something way back when I got married. Whatever it was, I wish I could undo it. Otherwise I don’t want to go back to that house. It’s happened one too many times. I don’t know if I can take that sort of negativity just piled up again. From so many people.” He watched a deer bound out of the bushes with a fawn before turning his eyes back over the mirror-smooth surface of the lake. “I just want to run, you know? Run as far as I can. Just get away from it... not go back to that house. Where everything is my fault... Just run.”
“... Would it make you happier?”
Of all the things Wirt could have said, this was not on Greg’s list. Wirt had a philosophical way of making Greg feel better about things. This was not bad, only a tad confusing at times.
To hear him repeat a familiar question made Greg raise his eyes. Slowly he pulled his hands away from his face and turned to look at his brother, shock in his eyes.
Wirt fiddled with another stone in his hands for a moment before raising his eyes and looking at the bespectacled man next to him. “Would it make you happier if you never went back?” he whispered.
Greg blinked before looking over the landscape again. The answer, one that was familiar yet still felt oddly out of place, given that he was always optimistic, came to his lips in a whisper so quiet he had to repeat it. He looked at Wirt again. “No,” he said. “... I don’t like... being alone for too long.”
A gentle smile slowly spread over Wirt’s lips.
“You remember that?”
Wirt shifted positions and looked down at the stone in his hands. “Just because you can be annoying, it doesn’t mean I don’t take your words seriously when they’re meant to be,” he said. “Even when I was a troubled teenager.”
Greg stared at him in silence before turning away and twiddling his thumbs.
“When you showed me that recording, Greg, it opened my eyes to a different side of things,” Wirt continued. “You made me see the good, even in the bad. And that, even if the whole world turned against me, you wouldn’t.”
He looked at Greg again, just as his brother looked back at him. “You have a beautiful family,” he said. “A wife, whose levels of spontaneity rival yours, even if her maturity peeks a little more than yours at times. You have two children, zany twins that are a combination of the world’s craziness and its wonder. A combination of level-headedness and creativity. You have a house that’s full of love and laughter, something I wanted to be permanent since I was seven. That’s a lot of good, and I don’t think it could have happened to a better person.”
Wirt placed an arm around Greg and held him tightly. “Take it from someone who knows misery like the back of his hand,” he said: “It’s not pleasant. And it likes to rear its ugly head whenever things are brightest. But there is good. You’ve got an eye for it, better than anyone I know. That’s a gift, Greg.” He leaned back and pointed at himself, always holding his brother. “But, on the slightest chance that you don’t want to go back, and you don’t want to be alone, I’ll run away with you.” He handed the stone he had been holding in his hand to Greg, pressing it against his brother’s palm. “And we’ll run as far as we can run.”
Greg stared at the stone in his hand while Wirt finished speaking. He rubbed its smooth surface with his thumb before holding it tightly and smiling.
Wirt nodded and released his grasp around his brother. “Good, because that may be as Pines as I’ll be able to get,” he said, as Greg tossed the stone as far as he could. Wirt reached into the bag he brought and pulled out two soda cans. “You work better on that scale than I do.”
Greg took the can his brother held out to him and opened it. He stared at it for a moment before looking up at his brother. “Wirt,” he said, as the man looked over his drink, “You remember when Beatrice came over a month ago?”
A light flickered in his brother’s eyes, and it made Greg grin momentarily—a light always turned on in Wirt’s eyes when Greg mentioned the woman he loved.
Wirt finished taking a drink before replying. “Yeah, why?” he said.
“Well, she said something to me.”
“That’s always concerning.”
Greg nudged the man in the side, making Wirt chuckle and rub his ribs. “She said that you told her something about me,” he continued. “Something—!”
“It’s not that difficult to speak about you, Greg,” Wirt teased.
“You are just on a roll today, aren’t you?”
Wirt snickered. “I had a good day, remember?” He waved a hand before him. “Okay, okay, serious now. What did Bea tell you that I said about you?”
Greg looked at his soda can, hesitated, and took a deep breath. “She said that you called me your best friend,” he said. “That I was the best friend you could’ve ever asked for.” He waited to hear Wirt groan—he always did that when Beatrice let something private slip, but the groan never came. Therefore Greg turned his head and looked at his brother again. “Is that true?”
Wirt stared back in silence for a moment. He put his soda can down and looked at his hands. He moved his lips around, pursed them and played with his tongue—the usual things he did when he thought about something hard; Greg had seen him do so many times since childhood.
When an eagle soared overhead with a loud screech, Wirt looked up, pulled out of thought. Then he smiled, looked at Greg for a moment and then dug into his pocket for more stones to throw. “As sure as an eagle’s majestic cry raises a watchful gaze does the sun set with the promise of its return,” he said, making Greg furrow his brow. “The confidence in one and warmth in the other bring hope.”
Greg made a grimace and shoved his brother aside. “Come on, Wirt!” he groaned, making his brother laugh. “I don’t understand poetry, my brain doesn’t work the same way yours does! What the heck does that mean?”
“If Beatrice told you what she said, then she undoubtedly told you the same thing she told me about myself,” Wirt said, raising his can and taking another sip. “I don’t give clear answers, Greg. My brain doesn’t work that way. I never say what I want to say, at least not clearly.”
“Yeah, she said something like that. She called you a book of poetry. We’ve gotta read you over and over again in order to really understand what the heck your actions and words mean.”
“Well, that’s a cute metaphor,” Wirt muttered behind his can. “Wish she told me that directly.”
“So what was your answer?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t mean as much,” Wirt replied. He set his can down and handed Greg another stone. “Think it over tonight. If you mull it over as you fall asleep, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. For now...” He threw his arm back and tossed his stone as far as he could, successfully having it land in the lake with a soft plop! “For now, let’s see who can throw the furthest, per the norm. Think you can beat my record from last month?”
Greg narrowed his eyes, a tad frustrated that his brother never gave straight answers, but another smile crept over his lips. He took one last sip of his drink before setting it down and tossing up his stone. “Watch me,” he said, throwing the stone as hard as he could.
They threw rocks into the water for another hour, a game they often did since childhood, all the while talking about things. Greg let Wirt do most of the talking that day, since it was not often that his brother had an entire day of stories to share with him. It made Wirt’s eyes bright, something Greg liked seeing since so many things kept his brother’s spirits down.
The sun had nearly set by the time Wirt drove Greg home. From the moment they parted ways, Greg thought about Wirt’s answer to his question. On any normal occasion, he would have brushed it aside, but this was a question Greg wanted a straight answer to.
So he thought about it all evening. After apologizing to his wife, dancing with her in the kitchen before dinner until their children came down to join, he thought about the poetry. As Mabel and Dipper asked how their uncle was doing, as the children set the table and he helped Bonnie prepare dinner, he thought about it. As they ate, when no one was conversing with him, he thought.
Once the children were put to bed and once he and Bonnie had gotten the chance to watch a movie, he pondered his brother words some more. And he continued to until the lights were turned off and his wife fell asleep at his side.
Just as sleep was about to take him too, and his mind was sore from thinking about poetry for so long, a light lit up in his mind. Greg stared up at the ceiling in surprise, and then a smile slowly spread over his lips once he had discovered the answer behind the poem.
He reached for his cellphone, and as best as he could without glasses, Greg typed out a message to his brother.
You’ve always been my best friend too, Wirt.
He was not expecting his brother to respond, since Wirt was in bed every night by ten o’clock. Given that it was nearing eleven thirty, Greg expected nothing until morning.
But his phone vibrated. So he pulled it over and checked the response.
Greg smiled again, proud of himself for having understood one of his brother’s poetic riddles, and proud to be holding such an important title to someone he had admired since his earliest years.
He had no idea what awaited him the next day, but whatever came he knew his best friend, a garden wall and a couple of stones to toss would be waiting if anything got out of hand.
I really hate school. It's not the lessons because I don't struggle with them. I hate school because of the people. I can't stand being told how worthless I am, how ridiculous my silence is, how I deserve to be beaten every day. It might be true, but I still don't like hearing it. I don't want to be reminded of the failure that I am. The Universe doesn't care about what I want though. If it did, my mother wouldn't be dead, my dad wouldn't detest me and I'd be normal. As in, I would have friends and I'd be able to speak to them.
I try to be invisible but I don't try hard enough because the bullies always find me. Whether they corner me by my locker or chase me into the bathroom, I can't escape. I just stand there and take it because there's no point fighting the inevitable. If I managed to get away, they'd just beat me twice as bad when they do catch me. I'm currently waiting outside my next class, History, hoping that they'll leave me alone today.
I shouldn't get my hopes up.
The pack round the corner and their leader - Danny - seems to zone in on me. I instantly back against the wall before realising too late that I'm just trapping myself further. Danny heads towards me and I stop myself from flinching as the first punch rains down: if I could, I know I'd be screaming right now.
"Aw, look! The freak can't even scream when he's hurt!" It's not Danny, but another of the jocks. I don't even know this one's name. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for them to finish what they started.
"Don't look so sad, Mikey Way, you know you deserve it."
I know I do, but I can't help it. I don't mean to be a freak. I don't mean to get in everyone's way. I don't mean to make everyone hate me. I just do.
Soon the bell rings, I knew it wouldn't be long, and I'm slumped on the floor, my legs having given up on holding my pathetic self. The group just leave me, as though they hadn't even seen me here, heading to class like I should be but I can't. Instead, I curl into myself and focus on breathing properly. I manage to get into an upright foetal position and sort out my breathing when I hear footsteps coming toward me which only makes my breathing and heartbeat irregular again. Whoever it is stops right beside me, I can see their Converse All Stars by my own, then crouches down to my level.
"Hey, kid, are you okay?"
The voice is so gentle that it surprises me, and my head shoots up before I think about the consequences. My dull, muddy eyes meet with sapphire blue ones. I blink stupidly at the stranger until I regain my senses and duck my head back down again.
"It's okay; I'm not going to hurt you..."
The voice is so tempting, it makes me want to dive into the stranger's chest but I can't. If I so much as lift my head, I know I'll regret it. To make sure I don't, I pull myself closer together, nose touching knees and knees touching chest, my hands gripping my shins tighter. I hear an irritated sounding sigh and cringe. Please don't be mad at me, stranger, I'm trying my best to be good. I don't like it when people are angry with me because it means I've messed up and I don't want another mistake piling on top of the ones I've already made. Suddenly, there's a hand on my back and I flinch, but it's not a frigid, vicious, violent hand beating me. It's a warm, soft, gentle hand; a warm, soft, gentle hand that's stroking down my spine, trying to soothe me. It's actually starting to work, until I remind myself that it's not Gerard, it's a stranger.
"Honest, kid. I don't mean to scare you. I just want to help."
There it is again. The pacifying voice of the stranger who says he wants to help. I breathe deeply then look up slowly. I still don't say anything, but the stranger seems pleased that I've responded in some kind of positive way to his placations. There are a few minutes of silence until the stranger decides he's had enough.
"Um, I'm Bob. Bob Bryar. What's your name?"
No! No, no, no, no, no! I can't speak. He'll realise how much of a freak I am and then he'll do exactly what Danny's gang did. Like the coward I am, I stand quickly, so quickly that my head spins, before running down the corridor towards the bathroom. I'm almost there, only a few feet away, when I hear the pounding of footsteps behind me and the same voice as before calling.
"Please, I didn't mean to scare you! Just let me make sure you're alright!"
I refuse to let myself stop as I swing the door open and hurl myself into the first cubicle I reach. I lock the door quickly and sit, knees to chest, on the lid of the toilet. I hear the door open so I hold my breath, but I know it's futile because the blue-eyed stranger Bob is knocking on the cubicle door. He sounds like he's breathing heavily. It reminds me of a raging bull and the panic builds inside me again. If he's as strong as he looked he could easily break down this door; then I'd be trapped in this tiny cubicle with no way out. I aim to control my breathing I don't want him to know I'm scared but I soon surrender to the gasping breaths when I hear his enchanting voice again.
"Just let me know you're okay? Please? I hate seeing people hurt, and I know you were."
He really does sound like he cares.
No. He doesn't care. He just wants to gain your trust so you'll come out where he can hurt you.
No, no he won't. His voice is too genuine. I can practically feel the benevolence radiating from him. There's no way that blue-eyed Bob could even hurt a fly. I carefully let myself unfold but I still don't move toward the door. I want to hear him comfort me again.
"Could you just open this door so I can see if you're badly injured? I promise I won't hurt you. I'll just sort you out and then I'll leave you alone forever. If you want me to that is."
Maybe I should. Just so he can see that I'm absolutely fine and I can run. Far away, so he can't catch me. That might work. I can run pretty fast if I need to.
I push the lock and almost cringe when I hear it click. As I push the door open, I peer round to scan the room. He Bob is sat on the rightmost sink, wringing his hands.
Slipping out the door, I think about making a quick escape, but my plans are ruined when my shoes squeak on the tile and Bob looks up. His frown melts a little as a tiny smile breaks across his face. I stand stupidly by the cubicle door, unsure where I should go or what I should do. Needing something to do with my hands, I grip the strap of my satchel. Then I remember that he'll probably ask me to talk to him, and I tug at the Velcro of the bag so I can pull out my whiteboard. Whilst doing so, I don't realise Bob jumping down from the sink and walking over to me. I only notice when I look up and see him standing over me. I jump a little, but quickly recover. I continue staring up at him, pondering over his height. I'm tall for my age so, for him to be taller than me, he must be pretty tall for his age. I think he's about a year older than me, so he must be 16. As soon as I realise I'm staring, I drop my head.
"Uh are you sure you're fine? I mean, you have blood on your shirt, and I was just wondering if-"
I cut him off with a sharp shake of the head. I am fine. There's nothing wrong with me, nothing whatsoever. Except for my 'condition', but Bob doesn't need to know that. I glance quickly at his sparkling eyes again, before looking back at my hands, holding my communication kit. My grip tightens when Bob's large hand splays across my back but as he begins stroking my spine like before, I relax a little. It reminds me of my mum, from when I was still a little kid, before she was ripped from mine and Gerard's life. I sigh and the hand stills.
"I'm sorry. I just thought you needed someone to care for you: if you don't want me to touch you, just say. I don't mind."
There. That word again. Say. If I could talk to him, I definitely wouldn't be telling him not to touch me. If I could talk to him, the kind stranger who decided I was worth helping, then I wouldn't be in this mess. I would have told him in the first place that I'm just fine and I could have walked away without a care in the world. But I can't. And so I'm stuck in the boy's bathroom with someone who thinks they care for me when I know for a fact that they don't. He can't. It's impossible to care for me unless you're my brother, and I think Gerard only believes he has to care. Nobody else cares, not even my dad, so why should Bob? Exactly. He doesn't.
"So are you going to tell me your name? Or do you want to redo the introductions?" Halfway through, before he even finishes saying the first question, I'm scribbling on my whiteboard. When I hold it up he seems confused.
"My name's Mikey Way. Have you heard of me? I'm the stupid, mute school freak. You probably didn't even know who you were dealing with, but now you do, and so I will leave you alone."
"No, Mikey Way. You're not gonna leave me alone."
At first I don't understand. Why wouldn't he want me to leave? Then it dawns on me that he must want me to stay so he can beat me. And I just can't take it. Not yet. Not until tomorrow, when these wounds have healed. I start to head to the door, but he catches my arm before I can leave. Panic sets in and my eyes fill with tears. I know that I thought he couldn't hurt a fly earlier, but I've changed my mind. He could. Easily.
"Mikey, please. I don't want you to leave. I want to talk to you and understand why you think no-one would care about you. I want to understand who you are and I want to be your friend."
Willing the tears to go away, I stop trying to tug my arm back from Bob. I think he really means it. So, doing the unthinkable, I nod and clear my whiteboard. This time I write just one word, but it seems to make Bob happy.
Woot! Second chapter! It doesn't need a warning, right?
I hope it's okay. I made it a little longer to make up for the wait. I'm not sure if I'm happy with it or not, but if you think it's really terrible just say and I'll...edit it? Or redo it completely. Anyway, I won't put a limit on the next update, but it won't be more than a week. I think the following updates will be about 4 days to a week apart. Maybe you'll just get excited for them? I doubt it, but I can dream, eh? Oh, and I decided on the pairing. Can you guess yet?!