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Eliza Simpson
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First try with tablet drawing. It sucks, I know.

For the most part, I'm getting the hang of it, it's just my friggin' hand is too shakey. I tried to cover most of it up but there's crappy lines abound.

Since the main point was doing the lineart, I haven't done a background or shading. Why? Well I should get the hang of actually drawing before I screw anything else up.

However, to any tablet users who want to be helpful; How do you manage to disguise the shakeyness of the lines? Or better yet, stop it from being shakey in the first place? Is it just repetion that's needed?
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Something that stemmed from a little joke idea with :icongilson:... no idea what I was thinking.

Incase you can't tell, it's a genderswapped Bart (A wizard did it)... yes it's meant to be scary. Still I doubt he, er, SHE would dress like a girl though, she's still Bart, kinda. On the bright side, she lost a lot of weight.
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from one of my favorite Treehouse of Horror episodes :)
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My drawing of master detective Eliza Simpson from Treehouse of Horror XV (Season 16).

Simpsons are created by Matt Groening/20th Century Fox
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Boo!!!! :heart:
I know that halloween is not today but...isn't that ghost sweet????
:police: You can use it as an avatar but credit me :D
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Marge in the classic Mac commercial outfit. How it stays on, i don't know. ;-)
Simpsons TM and Copyright FOX and its related companies. All Rights Reserved.
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In one of the latest episodes Bart finds some old French postcards in a cave. I have made a few changes and improvements to one of them. ;-) Spring is finaly comming.

Simpsons TM and Copyright FOX and its related companies. All Rights Reserved.
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Of course i don't live in a yellow subamrine :lol: . I don't even live in Liverpool. Pic made a long time ago... :nuu: two weeks ago!!! :nuu: :nuu: :nuu:
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I was there one year ago... :) ... That is just great...
Costa Del Sol.
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and here's with the first pic made with my new style.
i've made some digital images in the past, but with this i used all things i've learned during these weeks.
now i only have to improve my new style as i did with  my old one, time ago..
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this and the first pics are attempts that i needed to understand how to use digital coloring
next ones will be more complex
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a little Lisa's quic sketch
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Bart and Lisa were watching tv, when Marge came in the room and said:-are you still here? Go doing your homework, now!-
Lisa said:- but mom, now Krusty will air Itchy & Scratchy! Some minutes more, please!-
-yea mom, it's question of some minutes, I'm not asking you your entire life!-
Repeated Bart, but Marge said:-no deal, kids, you've been watching tv since when you came back home, one hour ago! You could think first at work, then at amusement, now go upstairs!-
Marge took the remote and turned off the tv, then pointed the stairs, Bart and Lisa learned down from the couch and went upstairs, with their heads down, Bart was saying with a low voice:-we asked only for some minutes more, sometimes I can't stand her-
Marge said:- watch your language and tell me the things in front of me, I heard you!-
Bart said:- sorry, mom!-.
Upstairs Bart was entering in his room while Lisa said:-Bart, Bart, wait a second I need some help from you, with my homework, how many things do you have got to do?-
-don't worry Lis, I always can help you, what do you have for homework?-
Lisa was entering in her room while said:-come here, and I'll show you up-
-here I'm coming-.
Bart entered in her room and Lisa picked up a book:-here, I'm learning how to do the additions and subtractions-
Bart took it and read for a moment, then said:- sure I help you! These are easy, come on, sit down to your desk, start thinking while I'm taking a chair-.
It would seem weird, Bart who helps Lisa doing homework, but it happened, in fact until one year ago Bart and Lisa used to have an awesome report, plus Simpson gene still didn't have all its effect, so Bart was still an intelligent guy, as sensible as his sister, they were very similar.
In the meantime Marge was cleaning up the house, Homer, who still had some hair on his head, was lied down on his hammock, Marge called him:-Homer, can you come here? I need a favor!-
-oh Marge, I'd really love to help you but I'm very busy now-
Marge got out from the house and said:- Homer, you are on your hammock, learn down from it, and come in to help me!-
While she was saying this, she came and took Homer for his ear, thus her husband said:- Marge this isn't necessary, leave me! It's painful!-
Marge left him, Homer touched his ear, it was hot, but he resumed, with a fake smile:- what can I do for you, sweetie?-
Marge answered:- we have to clean up the attic, it must be very dirty-
-oh, c'mon Marge, we have done it last year, why doing it again?-
-Homer, you've eaten yesterday, but you've eaten today too, following your thoughts you should stop eating too-
-ok Marge I'm coming-
They went upstairs and started dusting the attic, it was dirty but not as Marge expected.
In the meantime Bart finished helping his sister and went doing his homework:-well Lisa, I hope you understood how to do these things-
-yes, I did, thank you Bart-
She kissed his cheek, and resumed:-so now you go doing your homework, right?-
-I gotta do them-
-can I come in your room and see what you're doing? I won't disturb you-
-yes, sure, why not-
They went in Bart's room, and he did his homework, finished them he closed the book and threw it on the bed, so shouted:- finally! I've finished them, now I'll have all the rest of Saturday and Sunday free of every work!-
Lisa asked:- so, what do you want to do now?-
-I don't know, sis.
Milhouse is at home, sick, for me he can even fuck himself...-
-...Bart, what are these words?!?-
-sorry, Lis, by the way, I was thinking, Milhouse is sick, you don't have anything to do, so do you want to get out and play a bit?-
-out? I don't know it's hot...-
-oh come on, it will be funny!-
-if you say so...-
While Bart was going to the door he shouted:-the last who arrives to the door loves Milhouse!-
And started running, Lisa said, following him:-hey, this isn't fair!-
Bart opened the door and Lisa reached him, so he started mocking and pointing her:- haw haw, you love Milhouse!-
said Bart, imitating Muntz a bit.
Lisa with a red face said:- no it's not true, you are lying and stop now!-
Bart stopped, Milhouse fell in love with Lisa the September of the year before, when she first came at school and the thing was evident, Milhouse tried sometimes to stay with Lisa, but she always refused.
Lisa asked:- so, what do we do, now?-
Bart showed a frisbee and said:- we can take our bikes, go to the Springfield park and stay there for a bit playing with this-
-when did you take it?-
-I took this a moment before I got out of my room-
-weird I didn't see this before, and I neither saw you taking this-
-yea, yea, nobody cares, so what we do, do you want to play or you want to die here?-
-I'm going to take the bikes-
Lisa went in the rear of the house, took and brought them to Bart, so he said:- let's go-
They went to the park, and played with that frisbee until when they saw Marge coming with a worried and angry face:-what are you doing here?-
Bart answered:- we are playing with this, why?-
-you got out without advertising me? I was very worried, I didn't find you, your dad is looking for you too! Kids, this time I'll close an eye, but next time the punishment will be very severe.
You promise you won't do it anymore?-
-we promise- said Bart and Lisa in choir, so Marge said:-now let's go home, it's almost dinnertime too-
After a moment when Bart looked for Marge's he found and pointed it, then he started running saying:-the first who arrives sits on the forward place!-
Lisa arrived first, but they started arguing, so Marge said:- I have the solution! You two behind, and Homer, if wants to come back with us, in the front, all right?-
-ok, mom- answered Bart.
Homer didn't want to come with Marge, she called him via cell phone, he was drinking a beer at Moe's.
Marge commented:-oh Homer, you drink too many alcohol, this will damage you!-
Homer's answer was:-Marge the only thing alcohol can cause is an accident, nothing more, don't listen at those stupid doctors, who only want to take money from you-
Marge answered, in her last, desperate try:-they'll take money only if you keep going on this road, but life is yours-, then closed the call.
At home Marge prepared some dinner for them, Homer came back home at about 5 am.
After dinner Bart and Lisa went upstairs and played with their toys, Lisa with her dolls, Bart with his ones.
Marge stayed on the sofa watching some tv, and when went upstairs she saw her kids whom were still playing so she said:-c'mon kids, it's late, go sleeping-
-oh mom, please just five minutes more!- asked Bart, Marge, very jaded, surrendered:-ok, you can play a bit more, but don't go bed too late, all right? Remember tomorrow is Sunday and we will have to go to the Sunday mass-
-we promise- said Lisa.
Marge went sleeping, but Lisa and Bart heard her complaining about her husband, and Bart asked:-if mom complains about dad, why did she married him?-
-and what do you want I know about this, Bart?- said Lisa.
They played for still half an hour, until when Bart said:- Lisa I'm tired, I'm gonna sleep a bit, ok?-
-ok Bart, good night-.
The next day Marge tried to wake up Homer, and after many attempts she managed to do this, thinking:"I'm the best, you can't beat me Homer, neither you satan! Homer will come with me in Heaven!"
They went to the church, Bart and Lisa were getting off of the car, when Lisa saw an her classmate, one of the three or four who had a good report with, they changed school between year one and two of elementary school, their own families were strongly related, and moved together to another city.
Getting off Lisa saw those girls and they called her, Lisa said:- I'm coming!- she ran to them but didn't see a rock, and stumbled on it.
She fell and tore her dress in some points, it was very threadbare and this falling was only the coup de grâce.
Lisa injured her knee and her arm, she started crying because of pain and her dress, Marge took her in arm, and said:-oh c'mon, Lisa not now!-
Lisa, hiccuping said:-I've broken my dress, this was my favorite one!-
-oh Lisa, don't worry, we will buy a new one, better than this-
-no, mom, this was the best one!-
Marge was comforting Lisa, and said:-Homer, I'm going to bring Lisa at home, I can't keep her here with this, and I don't have any reserve dress.
You remain with Bart and follow the mess, ok?-
-ok, Marge- said Homer, absently.
Marge went at home, while Bart and Homer followed the mess, absently
Marge brought Lisa at home, and waited for Homer and Bart coming back, comforting Lisa.
When they came, Marge said:-Homer, I'm gonna take something for Lisa, that she will use within the next day.
I wanna save some money to buy her a present for her birthday-
Homer said:-yes, her birthday, ehm...-
-Homer, do you remember when is Lisa's birthday, right?-
-yes, yes that I remember it! It's the... well... Oh Marge I'm sorry but the Fox is airing a new program I'd like to watch, see you later!-
He ran to the couch, while Marge entered in her car.
Lisa was in her room, with Bart.
Bart said:-Lisa, come on, it was just a dress, now do you want to play with my computer a bit?-
-yes, why not- said Lisa, sadly.
They went in Bart's room and Bart thought:"wow, she finally gave me the idea for a present"
Bart turned on the PC and said:- I'm coming back in a minute-
He went in Lisa's room and took her dresses, read the size and wrote it on a sheet, then came back in his room.
Marge came back home but she didn't find anything, every shop was closed and at the Springfield Mall, she didn't find anything good.
Two days later it would be Lisa's birthday, and on Monday, the day before, Bart broke his piggy-bank, and counted about 50$, he said surprised to himself:-50$? Are we joking? Wow it's better than I thought!-
Bart gathered that money doing some jobs for his parents and neighbors.
He went out and entered in a clothes shop, there he looked for some elegant dresses, then found one and said:-aah, perfect! This is very good, she should like it-
It was a pink dress, pretty elegant and with a quite soft tissue, it was even a good compromise between price and quality.
Bart took and bought it, then went out, with it in a envelope, he would have wrapped it later at home.
When he came back home he knocked, and opened Marge, so he asked:- mom, where is Lisa?-
-Lisa? She is with a friend, why?-
-you'll see tomorrow-
Bart went upstairs and wrapped the present, then he did his homework, after it he took all the remaining dollars, to buy another money box.
The next day at school Lisa was in the courtyard, sitting under a tree, while Sherri e Terri came to her and said:-so Lisa? Who will you invite for you birthday?
Nobody? No one? Or both? Or even them with anyone?-
Lisa said, calmly:-again, you are mocking me again.
You always mock me for everything, leave me alone, please-
The twins sang:-Lisa has no friend she only thing she worth are offenses!-
Lisa thought:"at least someone is paying me attention. In this school almost nobody appreciates me".
Bart was with Muntz when saw Lisa and the twins, so came and said:-what the hell are you doing here? Leave Lisa alone!-
-and if we don't do it?-
Bart picked up a rock and said:- this thing will pass from my hand to your faces-
-you won't dare!-
Bart threw a rock missing, voluntarily them, peeved the twins went away, while Sherri was saying:-c'mon Terri let's go, leave these idiots-
Bart thought at the sensation of power he felt, and he was intoxicated by it.
Since this time he started doing always more jokes to other people, annoying people was funny in his opinion.
While he was thinking at this Lisa said:- thanks for defending me, Bart...-
-no problem, Lis, it's my obligation-
After school Bart and Lisa came back home, and when Marge opened the door she said:- happy birthday, Lisa! Come in, we have something for you-
Lisa, very happy, entered in the house, Bart said:- wait a second, I gotta take something-
-ok, Bart- said Marge.
Bart went upstairs took the present and learned down again.
There Marge, taking a very big packet, on the ticket there was written from dad and mom, to Lisa:- this is for you sweetheart-
Lisa took it and opened, amazed said:- this is the new  Malibu Stacey house, with garden, car, two dolls and swimming pool, that you can fill with true water, that I saw on tv, oh mom, dad I love you!-
Bart came in the room and said:- this is for you, surely it won't be as good mom and dad's one, but mine has a purpose, at least-
Lisa took the package and opened it, amazed she saw that dress with very cute color, pink, so said:- oh, Bart this is very good too, thank you so much!-
-I knew that a dress can't ruin your life, and with this you've completely forgotten that one you broke-
-yea, right, what a stupid reaction I had, but this one is very good, I will use it only when I'll have to be elegant, thus I'll replace the one I broke, thanks-
Lisa kissed Bart's cheek, and Bart said:- this one too was an obligation.
i wrote this in half an hour
i was playng tapped out when i saw steven4554 who raided my town.
reading his name made me remember his profile image, but i was thinking at my last sci-fi story too.
so i thought:" lisa's pink dress, a story, let's write a story which talks about lisa's pink dress history" XD
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This is the "sisters" version, with bart, as danintendolinux requested
I allow him to do wathever he wants with this image
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Less kawaii version (plain)
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Just a simple, cute kid pic.

Next up in the world of sexy Simpsons women -- Miss Hoover.
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So here we are after three months on hiatus I am going back to drawing Simpson style.

So let's brake it down, in this idea Maggie and Bart wanted to get the kids together for a group picture, (I hope to make a short story of this soon^^)

Top left: Samuel Simpson 

Age 9

Parents: Bart Simpson and :icontman5636: oc Samantha Tantha

Bottom left: Victoria Simpson 

Age 5

Parents: Homer Simpson and Nikki Mckenna

Top right: Elizabeth Simpson

Age 8

Parents: Lisa Simpson and Slenderman 

Bottom right: Sophia Simpson

Age 10

Parents: Homer Simpson and Nikki Mckenna 

Center: Ezekiel Simpson

Age: 4

Parents: Lisa Simpson and Slenderman
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This should show my work among months, but at the end I don't see a so big change XD, but I still hope you will enjoy the picture and the description, even if it's very long
time to be realized: about two hours while listening to soulful house, deep house, liquid drum n bass, jazzstep and dubstep

I finally have developed my first OC, and she neither is a true OC, in fact I'm not the creator, but i only have made an alternative design an developed a possible character.
To be honest, I'm going to tell you how I got her: her character is based on Lisa's one, I thought that a person similar to that one was quite probable.
How I got her design? Her face and hairstyle is token from the original episodes, but I've slightly modified it, while her clothes, the upper part is based on me XD, yes it is based on me.
In fact during spring or fall I love wearing an open jacket, with a t-shirt under it.
The colors are almost the same ones.
The other part, I don't wear skirts XD, is token from some alternative designs I made and saw from internet, about an 6-10 years old version, I only changed colors, because I wanted to get a nice result.
The pacifier and the ribbon are directly token from the original and official design we all have, always, in front of us.


Maggie was born nine years after Bart and seven years after Lisa, in Springfield.
Her full name is Margaret Simpson.
When she was a baby Homer forgot her many times, and this sometimes put Maggie directly in danger, but Marge or her kids could solve those problems.
Maggie showed up a very particular intelligence and ability just like her sister, but more than her.
Just like Lisa, Maggie never managed to socialize with her coetaneous, and she also never wanted to do that.
She always felt the other people not inferior but stupid, unsuitable with her.
Paradoxically she makes us hear her voice very very late, but when she did, it was a pleasure for everyone, in fact her voice was nice, sweet.
At the age of six, thanks to her sister too, Maggie starts attending a singing school, for developing her skill and best passion.
Maggie, under Lisa's influence, loves jazz music, but unlike her sister she likes other music genres, which must be influenced, related or that someway remember jazz music, example blues or house music.
Singing and music are not the only Maggie' passions, in fact later she fell in love with science.
Her favorite science is astronomy, and so mathematic and physics in general.
She loved science so much that she started studying physics at the university, but she never finished her studies because of her family's poverty.
Maintaining Lisa's studies was a very hard sacrifice that Homer and Marge had to do, they tried to do it again with their younger daughter but failed.
Only at the university Maggie started truly knowing other people, there she even found her first and last boyfriend.
Homer and Marge were worried about this characteristic, but they weren't so much, especially because of another similar experience called Lisa.
This character is visible on her clothing too, which follows simple and constant schemes.
Maggie really loves order.
This character produced a different person too: Maggie grow up with the education she got from her family, but gradually Maggie got far from some elements of that education, because she thought about all her beliefs and valors.
For example Maggie's family grew up her as a Protestant, but she thought about her religion, and reached a different conclusion, no she isn't atheist, but she neither is a true believer, she's just in the middle.
Her clothing and style is simple, yes, but sometimes, if necessary, she shows a nice taste and she manages to be elegant.
Maggie still has her old pacifier, she uses it as a pendant of the necklace.
She also has her old ribbon on her head.
Maggie still owns those two things in memory of her infancy, she thinks infancy is the best period of everyone's life.
Lisa's influence on Maggie is evident in many parts of her character, one was musical tastes, another one was science, but it doesn't finish here, in fact at the age of seven she thinks about Lisa's reasons for being vegetarian, so she decides to become like her sister.
She isn't vegetarian anymore, in fact she now is vegan.
The relationships with her family are slightly different from Lisa' ones.
Her bond with Homer isn't really strong because she thinks her dad isn't smart enough to stay with him, but she anyway thinks he's her dad, but at the end she prefers her mother.
Unlike Lisa she does not really like Bart, even though she doesn't know, precisely, the reason.
The top is anyway reached with Lisa.
Together they are like two very intimate friends and have a big confidence with one another, this is evident from the huge amount of time spent together and from the influence they had one to the other.
Among time Maggie tried to become more disinhibited with other people because sometimes she suffered her loneliness.
Unlike Lisa, who is down to earth, Maggie loves daydreaming, so much that this activity risked to become a problem for her.
Half of the time spent daydreaming went to imaginary travels around the world.
Maggie would love to visit other places in the world, but the problems are always the same, economics difficulties, but this didn't stop Maggie from learning, as an autodidact, some foreign languages: Spanish, French and Russian.
Maggie studied those languages because she likes knowing something new, in general, plus she wants to be provident for an eventual travel to another country.
Unlike Lisa, Maggie usually can't contain herself.
For example her reactions to something bad are usually disproportionated, or if she's to a party and starts drinking, she difficultly stops on her own, but this annoys her, so she is trying to improve herself.
Maggie doesn't really appreciate technology, and she doesn't want to use a PC, she thinks they're useless, and uses only a cell phone.
After an iPhone phase, she moved to Android, because it was more economic and opened.
Beside PC, she hates television too, in fact she thinks they are both a waste of time and reading is the solution, for her.
Maggie' favorite literature genres are Sci-Fi, Horror and Fantasy.
Other important hobbies are drawing, observing the sky with her telescope that she assembled alone.
Her favorite season is summer, the same one when she was born.
She was born in July.
In the future she will have some kids and she will have to retract about the opinions she had for kids.
Maggie will marry only after an enormous quarrel with Lisa, in fact she will not see her sister for years.

In the last part I've reassumed the plot of A New Life fanfic, because it was too long and I was lack of ideas.
After working on Maggie, to get this character I spent about6 months, I will probably try to create Maggie' children, but of course I will continue with Lisa and Maggie.
Beside slight modifications this is the final "OC".
If you have any question, ask..
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Well that, and some fruit juice every once in a while.

This idea hit me at work the other day, and I feel like it must have been done before; I apologize if I've ripped anyone off. As we can see here, Maggie Simpson doesn't speak unless she's got something to say.

I own neither Maggie Simpson or the Dos Equis advertising. Stay thirsty my friends.
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Teenage Maggie Simpson wandering in a dark alley. In my fanfic story, she wears her spiky hair in an unkempt ponytail and still wears her blue hair clip because even though she is growing up, she still misses her childhood...

I'm afraid my amateur drawing kinda ruins the beautiful stock photo -.- but after spending almost 5+ hours on how to rescale my drawing, I just gave up ;( one day, I will learn how to do lighting and other stuff...

Background: On the street
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Maggie enjoying a balloonride over Springfield! Homer and Marge was driving behind her all the way until she was safe down on the ground! But Maggie had much fun on her trip and wasn`t scared at all. :balloon2: 

Used Photoshop CC and wacom bamboo tablet!

Hope you guys like it! :D
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Una Maggie influenciada por Bart(?
Esto lo hice para rellenar un poco más el portafolio de " Los Simpson" aquí TwT
Como en el futuro, va a ser la vocalista de una banda de rock (Si vieron el especial de Acción de Gracias, me entenderán) , no tiene que pasar por desapercibido su vestir...o eso es lo que estaba pensado hacer ^^;

Espero que les guste, comenten y sobre todo a sus favoritos! :la:

Maggie (C) Matt Groening
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"And now we go to today's weather report. Looks like today's going to be hot, hot, hot, once again, ladies and gentlemen! Hot enough to fry an egg wouldn't you say, Bill? Better stay indoors and get around to getting that AC fixed, folks, because this heat wave isn't going to let up any time soon! Once again the date is August 15 in the year-"

I flick off the station on the dashboard, keeping one eye on the road. Not many people can look in two completely different directions at once, but I had trained myself in the art long ago. It's a handy skill when driving, but I can't really do it when any police are around. I found out that they tend to pull people over when they see their eyes popping in two different directions.

Just as the obnoxious man on the radio said, it's sweltering hot, the sun high in the sky. Luckily, the windows of Mr. Burns' very expensive limousine are tinted. Even the sleek white glare of the black paint comes in as a kind of dulled brownish-gray. Perfect for Mr. Burns' eyes, which, in a strange sort of paradox, somehow to be both cloudy and sensitive to light.

From the back of the limo, I hear Mr. Burns grumble, "These so-called 'weather reports' are completely unnecessary! Any inbred fool can tell it's hot outside."

"Yes, I agree, sir," I said, without hesitating. He's made this same observation at least four times before, but I agree anyway. I don't really mind. I'd have nothing to do today if it weren't for this.

The car comes to a stop as I glance at the stop sign at the corner. A line of people pass in front of the car, some of them skipping, some of them shuffling along sullenly under the heat, not one of them glancing toward the cars waiting in the street. I heard a splat as something broke against the rear bumper. No doubt someone throwing eggs again. Thank God Mr. Burns didn't hear it. I make a mental note to clean it off later as the car moves on again.

"You know," says Mr. Burns suddenly, "I really hate summer."

I raise an eyebrow, a little surprised. What had brought this on all the sudden? "What do you mean, sir?" I ask.

"Well…" Mr. Burns seems to falter. His gaze drifts outside. "For one thing, there are far too many children about," he says, keeping his eyes narrowed on a group of laughing boys running down the sidewalk.

I make a noncommittal sound, though Mr. Burns' hatred of all things good sometimes makes me a little uncomfortable. Besides, it is pretty nice outside, despite the heat. "Well, it is summer break," I say. "Give it another month, and they'll be out of sight again."

"Another month," says Burns absently, an odd tone in his voice. "Yes…"

I drive on. I hadn't turned around to check, but I could have sworn I saw Homer Simpson's son in the group we had just passed. Kids. Does time go by that fast?

There's another intersection coming up. The streetlight is a little far ahead, but I can see it if I squint, a tiny dot of red switching to green. I speed up a little, knowing that Mr. Burns doesn't like to be late to anything ever, even though I explained to him, over and over again, that a Sunday drive doesn't really need to have a schedule.

"Is there a season you do like, sir?" I ask him, out of curiosity.

"Oh, I don't know," he says. "What season did you say it would be next month?"

"I didn't, sir. It'll be-"

Suddenly, I freeze, swallowing my next word. The streetlight changes to yellow, then jumps abruptly to red. I stare at the glaring red light, mind racing, panicking. It can't be red yet! It's too soon! And it's too late. I'm already past the curb, in the street. It's too late to stop.

And when I turn my head to the right and see the truck, it's too late to do anything about that, too.

I don't know who screams. It might be me, but I'm paralyzed. I don't know what to do, how to get out of this. It's sort of like the time we accidentally ran over Simpson's son, only this time it's a thousand times worse because it's our blood that spraying everywhere, and the car is spinning out of control, and I hear things slamming and glass breaking and I don't know how to make it stop…

When it's over, when it finally stops, I raise my head from the airbag and look up. My glasses are cracked, and I feel blood trickling down my temple. I can feel the airbag deflating underneath me as people scramble around outside, a lot of them yelling. Someone is shouting orders; there are women crying. My head is throbbing, and there's a fog in my head.

"Oh my God!"

"Are they okay?"

"Who is it?"

"It's just Burns' car. Lousy bastard."

"Check on the drivers!"

"I think the one in the limo is coming around."

Someone is yanking open the door next to me. I blink groggily at the sunlight. Waves of heat start pouring in. Someone else is pulling on my arm, trying to get me out of the car. What for? I wonder vaguely. Everyone is yanking and pulling and yelling at me, the idiot who ran the red light, but they don't say that now.

I take a slow step out and look around. The limo took the worst of the damage. The right side is all scrunched in, the front of the truck resting against where it twisted into a V. There's smoke everywhere. Someone is waving their cellphone light in my eyes. I look away, still blinking, wishing they would go away.

"Get that guy out of the back!"

"No! Don't move him! He looks bad."

"Jesus Christ, look at that…"

The guy in the back? Wha-?

Suddenly, my mind snaps awake. Monty…

Oh my God! No!

"Where is he?" I ask.

"Calm down, man," someone near me says. He puts his hand on my shoulder.

I glare at him. Idiot. Did I stutter? "Get out of the way!" I snap, my teeth clenching, shoving him aside. I run to the backseat, not feeling the pounding in my head, ignoring the shouts of protest and the grabs at my arm. Mr. Burns? Where's Mr. Burns?

Dear God…

I stop, staring, before the back window on the left side. The window is cracked, little spider fingers crawling over it, meeting in a single sting in the middle. Amidst the silver and brown of the dark, cracked glass, I see an even darker brown splattered on the inside like paint. I suddenly realize how foul the air is.

"M-Mr. Burns…?" I whisper to the window. As if it could hear me. As if… I take a few slow steps toward it. Faintly, if you squint throw the cracks and the smear of brown, you can see a round, broken shape, lying still against the window. Too still… Too wet.

The shape rolls against the window and quickly plummets down, out of sight.

"Mr. Burns!" I don't even realize it, but I'm banging on the car door like a lunatic, tears are blurring my eyes, and all I can do is keep screaming his name. "Mr. Burns! Monty! MONTY!"

I feel yet another hand on my shoulder. "Easy there," someone says. "The ambulance is on the way…"

"It's gonna be okay, buddy. You just calm down."

Calm down. Morons. Morons! Don't they get it? Don't they understand? They're telling me to be calm and that it'll be okay when Mr. Burns. Isn't. Breathing!

"Get your hands off me!" I snap, and as I hear a woman cry, "Wait, don't!" I wrench the car door open.

It's the smell that hits me first, raw, rusted, dirty… The human body, his glorious body, so filthy once it's burst and splattered all over. All over the hot leather and metal and silver. The smell would have made my eyes water if the fear and madness weren't already. And it's so red. The redness of it, it slams into my eyes, blinding me. Even against all the black of the interior, so very red.

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, was the dark, primordial response. This is wrong. This is not right. That smell and that much red should not exist. This is an abomination.

At the bottom, on the floor, at the foot of the seat, that's where he lies. Crumpled, cracked every which way like a marionette. And I can't take my eyes off him. It's like a nightmare. And then it hits me. It slams into my skull, a scraping accusation. Failure, it says. You failed. This is the ultimate failure. You swore you'd always protect him, and you failed.

"Monty…" I say his name, one last time. And, before I can help it, I turn and retch onto the gasoline soaked concrete. I can't help it. It's sour and bitter and stings my throat. Failure… failure…

"Feeling ill, Waylon?"

I look up, startled, in the direction of the voice. No one else's words have reached me, no one else's voice has sounded real or relevant to my ears, save for this one. And I know why. It's because it's my voice.

Directly in front of me, down the street, I'm standing there, looking down at me, sneering at me. I stare, utterly dumbfounded. Is this real? It can't be…

I'm looking at myself, and I'm looking back. The me who's smiling is completely red, and not with blood like I am. His clothes are red, his hair is red, even his eyes are red. He smirks down at me through red glasses. It's like a mirage. A perfectly red mirage of my image.

Except mirages don't talk.

"He deserves it, you know," the mirage says, smiling.

"What?" I say. Because it's all I can say. This can't be real. I must be hallucinating. I hit my head too hard, and I'm in a coma, or something…

It keeps smiling at me. It winks at me. Nobody else is looking at it. Only I can see it. Proof that I'm hallucinating.

It raises its hand in a friendly way. "See you tomorrow," it says.

And that's when my vision begins to darken…


My eyes fly open, and I stare at the ceiling of my bedroom. My bedroom... What the hell? What time is it?

I sit up and grab my watch off the nightstand, holding it up close to my eyes so I can see it. The blurred hands come into focus. 8:30 am… I put my glasses on and check the calendar. It's August 15th.

I let out a long breath. A dream. It was only a dream. Hey! It was a dream! I laugh, breathlessly. "Oh, thank God," I say aloud, to nobody. Mr. Burns isn't dead. There wasn't any car wreck. It's fine. Everything is fine.

Except I overslept. Oh, Hell. I hope Mr. Burns isn't too mad. I pour myself some cereal and eat in a hurry. There's a really annoying bird chirping outside the apartment window. I hope I can get out of here fast.

It's only when I'm putting my tie on that I realize, Hey, wait a minute. Didn't I oversleep in my dream? And… I listened for a second… I'm pretty sure that stupid bird was in my dream, too. That dream. It had seemed so real…

I force myself to laugh. "No more eating cigarettes, Waylon," I say, scolding myself. "It does things to you."

I drive to his house to pick him up, and pretty soon we're both in the limo together, taking the same route we always take. I reach down, still keeping an eye on the road, and flick on the radio, checking if there's anything good.

"Wow, thanks for that advice, Bill!" the announcer says. "And now we go to today's weather report. Look's like today's going to be hot, hot, hot, once again, ladies and gentlemen! Hot enough to fry an egg, wouldn't you say, Bill? Better stay indoors and get around to fixing that-"

I quickly switch off the radio, my heart hammering. I feel the car swerve a little. It's the same. It's the exact same weather report. Even that cheesy line about frying an egg. It's all the same!

"Smithers, what's the matter with you?" I hear Mr. Burns ask. "Why are you so jittery?"

I swallow. "It's nothing, sir," I answer. But for some reason, my voice is shaking…

The stop sign appears. I pull up carefully next to it, keeping my eyes on the pedestrians that pass. They look familiar… Right? Or… Maybe it's just my imagination… Oh! I can't tell! I don't remember!

Suddenly, I hear a splat. I whirl around in the seat before slowly looking forward again. The egg. It's the egg hearing the rear bumper. I flex my hands on the wheel, flicking my fingers. My hands feel very moist. Why is it… Why is it so cold in here? I drive on, more slowly than I usually do.

Laughter. A group of boys are running down the sidewalk, one is pushing the other. I look, and I see Homer Simpson's son in the group. I twirl around the leather seat, my gaze stuck on them, my mouth agape. I must look like an idiot because Mr. Burns says, "Good lord! Watch the road, will you?"

"Sorry, sir…" I stammer, switching my gaze back to the road ahead. C'mon, Waylon. It's nothing… It's nothing… Get it together… The next intersection is coming up.

The light's green.

It was just a dream, Waylon.

It's getting closer.

Just a dream.


Don't lose your head.

It's ten feet away.

But it's all the same…

Five feet away.

And it was so real…

Just a few more seconds.

I look to the right, my hands still on the wheel. Hey. Isn't that the truck?

I slam on the break, so hard I feel I'm going to break the pedal. I feel my teeth slam against each other as we're both thrown forward. My head hits the dash, and I grip it in my hands, cringing. From behind us, I hear can hear the other cars honking.

Mr. Burns pulls his teeth out of the leather upholstery in front of him. "What the devil's the matter with you?" he snaps. "You've been acting like a lunatic all-!"


He stops, flustered. I realize why and am instantly sorry. But I can't help it. I can't think clearly. I can't focus on him.

The truck…

It goes by; it passes right in front of us. I didn't see the light; I didn't see whether it was green or red, but I can see the truck. It's huge, a massive rolling titan coated in silver and white. I see a huge silver barrel rotating on its back; it's a cement mixer. It's going obscenely fast; it's only in front of us for a second, but I watch it going by as if in slow motion. If I had kept going… If I had kept going…

Then Mr. Burns would have been…

As soon as the light is green again, I pull over next to a shop.

I turn around in my seat. "Say," I begin, trying to sound cheerful, my arm propped up against the leather back, "Sir, why don't we go for a walk?"

He stares at me like I've lost my mind. "A walk?" he repeats, staring at me. "What for? It's too hot for that."

I don't know exactly what I'm thinking or what I'm feeling. All I know is that I want to get out. We need to get out of this car. Now. I shrug, still trying to keep casual. "It might be good," I say. "You know, to change up the routine a bit. And you do need to keep up your physique, sir."

He doesn't answer me right away but just keeps staring. There's a crease between his eyes, like he's trying to figure something out. Finally, his expression changes. "Oh, very well," he concedes. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and climb out of the car. I slip a few false coins into the meter, open the backdoor for Mr. Burns, and we set off down the sidewalk, me trailing behind.

Outside of the car, the world seems bleached white with sunlight. The pavement is actually burning through the soles of my shoes. Little waves of heat dance out of the ghostly water puddles on the cement. The heat, it's exactly like… In my mind I see puddles of blood, the silver spider webs on the window. My heart starts racing again, and my breath feels like it isn't coming fast enough, and for a second I'm afraid that I'm going to have a stroke, right there in front of the comic book store.

"Smithers, walk in front of me, will you?" Mr. Burns says without turning around. I don't want the sun getting in my eyes.

His voice snaps me back to reality, the way it always does. "Yes, sir," I answer, as I run to get in front of him. It makes me a little uneasy that I can't see him, but at least I'll be the first to know if… something happens.

People turn to gawk at us as we walk by, and I know this sight is a little unusual. Mr. Burns and his lackey. Out on the town. Mr. Burns ignores them; he's knows he's not on the same level as them. I've always admired that about him, how self-confident he is.

We cross the street into the next block. I look around uneasily, but I don't see anything coming our way. I begin to relax, just a little.

A construction machine is perched on this street, dangling a bundle of iron girders high above the rooftops. I glance up at the silver skeleton growing up out of the tallest building. Looks like they're adding another story.

We're passing by the machine when I feel a small tug on my sleeve. "Hey, mister?" I hear a little voice say. I stop and look down at the little girl smiling up at me. She looks to be around nine or so, and her long light brown hair is pulled up into a ponytail. She's holding a tray of cupcakes and smiling up at me. "Would you like a free sample?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Oh, I'm sorry," I say. "But I'm not in the mood." I try to walk on, but she shakes the tray in front of herself, trying to make it look appealing. "They're free," she reminds me sweetly.

"Sorry," I say again, smiling a little at her, "Maybe some other-"


Above my head, I hear a clanging sound. Someone on the other side of the street screams. Everyone's yelling and pointing, their mouths wide open. They're all pointing straight up. I look up and see that the iron girders are right above us, and they're swinging madly back and forth, like a psychotic pendulum. The sharp, glinting bundle shifts to the right, and, with the tiniest twang that I feel more than I hear, one of the ropes snaps, and a girder comes hurdling straight down. It flies downward, whistling like a spear, and I feel the lightest pressure on my shoulder, thin and fragile as paper, before there's a sound like a rotten fruit ripping on a juicer.

And the girder pierces Mr. Burns straight through.

A splatter of blood flies up, and without looking, I know my legs are drenched. The smell fills my nostrils, that rusty, hot smell, fermenting in the air like hot soup. The little girl is standing there, and she's completely covered in blood, it's all over her dress, it's coating her cupcakes, drying in the pores. Unlike me, she doesn't scream, she just stands there, holding the tray limply in front of her, her eyes wide. The tray clatters as she holds it; she doesn't seem to be looking at anything.

I stop screaming, my throat raw and scraped. I just realized my hands are curled tight in my hair. It feels like I'm going to pull it out. And again, the smell and the redness, and I can't think right, all I can think is, This can't be real. This can't be real.

Mr. Burns isn't dead. He's still alive, trembling with the force of having one ton of solid metal gut you like a fish. There's blood coming out of his mouth, out of his back, out of his stomach. So. Much. Blood. He's so frail, so thin, where is all this blood even coming from? How can his body holds it all? How can it lose it all and still keep functioning. He's propped up on one arm, and as he coughs weakly, another burst of blood comes out.

I start forward, reaching a hand out. "Sir!" I scream desperately, wanting, insanely, to help him, to save him…

And that's when another flash of red passes in front of my vision.

I turn my head, my eyes wide, my heart frozen in the unbearable heat. It's him again. That red mirage. He's walking right by me; I could reach out and touch him. He's smiling at me with my face, his hands behind his back like he's out for a stroll…

"This is all for real," he sneers. "No dreams here." He flashes a smile at me, showing his gleaming red teeth.

I open my mouth; I want to say something to him, but my vision is going dark. It's getting harder to stay standing. I feel a shove on my shoulder, and I fall backwards, swooning.

"Nighty-night, Waylon," he says. He turns to walk away, leaving me fading against the wall.

I glance over at Mr. Burns one more time, and it's the strangest thing, but it seems like he's smiling…


I wake up. It's morning. I bolt upright and grab the calendar. August 15th. I check my watch. 8:30.

Oh my God. Oh my God! Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.

Panic. Panic is welling through me. It's August and I'm too cold, and all I know is Monty. Monty. Monty's in danger!

I get dressed in a mad frenzy, shaking so bad I almost drop my glasses. By the time I'm out the door, I become aware of an incredibly annoying bird, chirping away. Chirping its head off. Its head off… Dear God!

A few agonizing seconds later, and I'm in my car, the tires screeching on the street. My mind is racing.

That pressure. That infinitely light pressure I'd felt on my shoulder when… I shuddered and forced the memory away. Had that been… His hand? He's so weak. I imagined him, reaching out toward me, trying to grab me as…

"No!" I moan out loud, as I feel my eyes stinging. Tears are running down my cheeks, and the road swims in my vision.

My fault. It's my fault. Of course it's my fault. I was the one driving the car. I just had to stop and talk to that girl. Her and her cupcakes. How could I be so stupid? If I had been a little bit faster, if I had been behind instead of him, then he wouldn't have been…!

As I'm driving, I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I dial quickly and clear my throat. He mustn't know I've been crying, sobbing like a kid. He can't know. I take a few deep breaths to steady myself before I hold the phone up to my ear. Each ring is agony, like the spaces between drops of water torture, blaring in my ears. Pick up! I plead silently. Pick up!

Finally, there's a click. "Aughh… Ahoy hoy…" He says groggily.

He's fine. Of course he is. It's not time yet. "Mr. Burns!" I shout hastily before I catch myself. I take another deep breath and work to keep my voice absolutely calm. "Sir," I say, "It's me."

There's a pause. "Smithers… What on earth do you think you're doing?" he splutters angrily. "Calling me at this hour? Wait a minute…" There's another pause. I know he's checking the time on his bedside clock. "You're not here yet?" he snaps. "Where are you?"

"I'm sorry, sir," I say quickly. "But I won't be coming in today."

"What?" He sounds astonished. He should be. In the car, I hang my head a little, ashamed. It's unheard of for me to do this to him. But it can't be helped. He has to stay away from me. "Why?"

Why? "Well, because…" Because… Because… Oh, God, how do I explain this to him? I think quickly. What do I say? What can I say to get him to stay there? "Because of the Reds, sir," I say quickly, "The Reds are rioting again."

There hasn't been a riot in decades, but I can count on Mr. Burns to not know that. There's another second of silence before I hear an intake of air and Mr. Burns say, "I knew it."

"So," I say, relieved, "I'll take care of them. And, you need to stay indoors."

"Oh, I'm not as old as I look, Smithers," he says, and I imagine his expression, that sinister smile I love so much. "I can still give those dirty Commies a what for."

"NO!" I shout hastily. I think I've startled him. I take another shuddering breath and say, "That won't be necessary, sir. I'll take care of it. You'd know they'd love to get their hands on an aristocrat like you."

There's silence, and I know Mr. Burns is considering what I said. "Well, alright…" he says slowly. "I'll man the fort here. Be careful Smithers," he warned. "Those anarchists have claws." Then he hung up.

Perfect. Perfect. Stay in the house. Stay. I keep driving, my eyes scanning the streets, the sidewalks, the sky overhead.

I pull up in front of the manor, its façade gleaming white in the heat. I pull out the key, killing the engine, and step out of the car.

I'm not sure what will happen now, but I have a plan, sort of. Just stay out here. Stay out here and watch. As long as he's not near me, as long as I'm being careful, then maybe…

Maybe he can survive.

I begin circling the block, feeling the heat pouring into my jacket. I'm straining my eyes, trying to see everywhere at once. I grip the cellphone in my hand tightly, trying to stop my shaking. I force my mind to go blank, even as I'm scanning every street, every tree, trying to calm my racing heart…

Suddenly, I'm racing to the house, my mind, my whole body a jumble. What was I thinking? Leaving him alone like that? What if he's in danger, and no one's around? I can't stay near him; I can't stay away! All I can think to do is to stay as close as possible… I run through the bushes circling the property, meaning to maybe stay near a window and wait there, when I stop dead in my tracks.

It's the mirage.

He's already there.

He's leaning against the white surface of the manor, right next to the window I was aiming for. His arms are folded across his chest, and his head is down. He's actually shimmering, a red flame wavering in the heat. He looks up at me and his smirk grows wider. "Ready for my big surprise, Waylon?" he asks, sneering.

I take a few slow steps back, feeling bile rising in my throat. Not again... Not again! Before I know what I'm doing I drop to my knees. "Please," I beg, with my quickly shattering voice. "Please don't do this! I'll do anything!"

His smile changes, grows a little gentler. He walks up to me and rests his hand on my head; it feels like the smoke around a wild fire. "You work to hard," he says, smiling down at me. "You need to take a break."

He reaches down and grabs my chin roughly, yanking it up, so that we're eye to eye. "Ready?" he asks, grinning. "Here it comes!"

He lets go of me and steps back, and that's when I hear it. I heavy drumming, like a bee's wings. I look up, toward the sky, but I already know what it is.

I've been in enough helicopters to know one when I hear one.

The blades are flying, buzzing erratically, like a fly beating itself to death against a windowpane. The long silver tube is flipping over itself, over and over, twirling. A line of smoke billows from the tail. I watch it, utterly helpless, and the mirage doesn't even turn his back as it slams into the house. Flames billow up from the crater in burrowed in the roof, and the blast knocks me backward as rows and rows of impossible heat sear over me. The flames are huge; they engulf the manor in no time at all. The flames are dancing on the lens of my glasses.

The mirage doesn't even move when the helicopter hits. His hair only rustles a little in the wind. His eyes are closed, and his head is raised a little, like the burst is a hot bath he's sinking into. And as I lie there on my shoulders, fading into the blackness again, he looks at me, again, smiling serenely. "I wonder," he says, "Will you try begging again… tomorrow…?"


I sit upright in my bed, breathing hard. August 15th. No need to check. I feel my teeth grinding against each other. Outside, that damn bird is singing again. "SHUT UP!" I scream, flinging my calendar against the window. It shatters through the cheap panes, splattering the icy glass on the lawn below.

I'm still pulling my jacket on when I race out the door. The engine in my car whines like a skinned horse, as I drive. The whole world is blurring around me. I need to get to his house. I cannot get there fast enough!

I burst into the front door, drenched with sweat. Mr. Burns is there, waiting. He's still blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "Smithers," he says sleepily. "You're la-"

"Hurry! Run!" I shout grabbing his arm. He's too astounded to protest, as I sprint back outside, dragging him behind me. We're not safe here. We're not safe in the car. The only thing I can think of to do is just run.

"Smithers!" Mr. Burns manages to gasp, struggling to keep up with me. "What's going on? What are we running from?"

"I don't know!" I yell back. "Anything! Everything!" Just keep running. Why is the front of his property so long? Where's the crosswalk? There's gotta be a place we can hide.

Suddenly, before we can even make it to the corner, Mr. Burns collapses behind me. "Smithers…" he cries, weakly. I whirl around, tasting mucus in my burning chest. He can't make it! He can't make it! But he has to! I grab his arm, trying desperately to pull him to his feet. "C'mon, sir!" I say breathlessly, tugging on his arm, trying to get him to start. "It's only a little bit further!" I lie. "I promise! You have to get up!"

"There's no point, you know."

I start up, at the sound of my voice, and look over my shoulder, dread exploding within me. There's the mirage, standing with his arms crossed at the corner. He's looking away, across the street.

"Sir!" I yell, tears filling my eyes. "Please, you have to get up!" He's so frail; it's like tugging on a string bag. He's gasping like there's no air anywhere, and I feel like screaming at myself for thinking he could make it, for being so stupid.

And that's when I hear the growling.

I snap my gaze up, and I see it. It's the hounds. One of the hounds got loose, and it saw us running. It's looking right at Mr. Burns, snarling, its red eyes winking, thick ropes of saliva oozing from its jaws.

The next thing I feel is Mr. Burns' hand yanked from mine as the sound of teeth ripping meat off bone fills my ears.


August 15th


August 15th


August 15th


There's blood everywhere!


August 15th


Why is it so cold?


August 15th


Someone please help me!


August 15th


This time…


August 15th


So much blood…


Why him?


Why can't I…?


August 15th




August 15th


So tired…


August 15th


"Hey, Waylon. Aren't you going to wish me a happy birthday?"


August 15th


I have to save him!


August 15th




August 15th


August 15th


August 15th


How long has it been?

How long has it been since that first August 15th?

Countless days. Countless times. Countless deaths. It has to be in the thousands. I lost track long ago.

I've often looked at Mr. Burns and wondered what it was like to be an old man. I know now. It's an unbearably heaviness on a body that can't carry it any more. It's a tiredness with all creation. It's the sadness of a thousand sad things stacked one on top of the other.

It's been decades. I am an old man. And yet it's still that same August 15th. I haven't aged a day. We're back in the limo. I look out the window, and I see Simpsons's son and his friends go running by. It's only one day for them. For them, this day will be over and done in just a few hours. What's it like to be young?

To be old is to be unable to remember.

How do I get out of this? How do I save him? Sir, if I could spend an eternity with you, I would. But I can't. I can't if you're going to die. That's not fair. I can't watch you die one more time. I can't bear to look at that mirage, watch my face smiling at my death, one more time. I can't take it anymore. I'm sorry I'm so weak sir. I just want to save you.

I look up. That green light's coming up. The same one as on that first summer day. And the truck is coming. I'm too tired, too old to fight it anymore.

And then, all the sudden, I have the answer. I don't have to fight it anymore. I don't have to see you die one more time. I don't have to see you die ever again! It's so simple! The answer is so simple! And I almost laugh out loud because it's so stupid. It's so clichéd. And yet, it's so brilliant.

I know the answer.

It's still a green light. I still remember how it goes. Cross this line, and the truck comes. I push my glasses up and tighten my grip on the wheel. No need to take a deep breath. Just get it over with. I reach down and unhook my seatbelt.

Just as the line turns red, I step on the gas and yank the steering the wheel to the right, feeling a cord pull in my shoulder as I do. The limo's wheels screech and smoke billows out from below, as the car skids, tracing a dark circle on the searing pavement. The car rotates, spinning around, twirling like a coin, and as Mr. Burns yells in shock, I see that we've swerved just the way I wanted. The car has flipped. The front is facing back the way we came. My seat is facing the right.

And the truck is coming right at me.

I smile.


I feel the impact slam into me, glass and blood flying through the air. My glasses fly off, and before I know it, I'm flying too, soaring through the air. There's another explosion as I burst through the opposite window, landing on the street, flipping over and over on the tar-coated street. I can feel my body breaking, shaking and whirling and blowing itself out like a Catherine wheel. And I know it should probably hurt, but all I can think is, So this is what it feels like.

My back slams into a wall, and I stop, my skull cracking against the red brick. People are screaming, running frantically. I can't see them. Only blurred shapes and colors pass in front of me. Their voices are sound like the sound after you plunge into water. And everything's getting dimmer, fading away.

But one thing is crystal clear.

The mirage is standing in front of me, looking down at me. I expect to see his smile, I expect to see his taunting laugh, but instead, he just looks at me. His eyes are wide, and he looks down at me like I've torn up his happiness and thrown it in his face.

"Serves you right," I whisper through the blood on my lips. And I see tears coursing down his face as he vanishes from sight.

It's over. It's over. Ah. My only regret… I never really said goodbye to Monty. It happened too fast. I wish I could die while looking into his eyes. I don't know where he is. My vision is fading fast. I'm sorry Monty. I never told you I loved you. I never had the chance. My one regret. Take care of yourself, Monty. Be happy, okay?

The hot days of summer. The blood that's everywhere. None of it matters now. Because whatever cursed me to watch you die over and over.

It ends today.


On August 15th, in a fabulous mansion surrounded by bushes, a scrawny old man woke up. He sat up in his bed and in a quiet voice said,

"I failed again yesterday…"

As a blue mirage nearby gave out a taunting laugh.
This is a Treehouse of Horror story I wrote for Halloween. I originally intended to write two more, since Treehouse of Horror stories come in three segments, but this is the only one I finished. Ah, well. There's always next Halloween.

The story, by the way, is based off the Vocaloid song, "Kagerou Days," an excellent PV of which can be found here: [link]

How to break the chain... It's a mystery, alright...
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Just for this time, Bart is NOT dominating.. xD
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"When is the bus going to be here?" asked Lisa Simpson.
"You just asked me that 10 minutes ago," answered the grumpy man behind the desk.
"No, I didn't..."
Then Lisa noticed the girl in the red dress take her book bag. "Hey!!"

This second installment of the Trilogy of Terror was based on the classic Twilight Zone episode "Mirror Image," where both of the main characters run into doubles of themselves. Here is my first installment of the series [link] . There is one more to go.
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HAPPY HALLOWEEN! My favorite holiday of all! I wrote this for Halloween, and to help me get out of my writing funk. Hopefully it helps. Don't forget to leave a comment!

A Simpsons Halloween

Sixteen year old Lisa looked at herself in the mirror. Her make-up was perfect, she looked exactly like the witch of Springfield legend; the gaunt cheeks, the pale face; everything was perfect! She checked the old painting on the computer once more to make sure, and found that she was right, as usual. It was Halloween, and her and Bart were going out to a party at Professor Frink's abandoned home, while Maggie was going out trick'or'treating. Lisa was uneasy about going there; she found it disrespectful to Frink's memory, but agreed that the care-free doctor wouldn't mind; in fact, he would probably like it, seeing as it was Halloween, his once favorite time of year.

Lisa got out of her chair and smoothed out her costume, a ragged brown monstrosity. She loved Halloween; the candy, the scares, the fun, it was all so great. She left her room and headed for Maggie's room, to check on her. She would be going trick'or'treating with her friends tonight, seeing as she was only nine years old.

Lisa looked at Maggie from behind; she was dressed a cowboy, or cowgirl in this case, and had two play pistols holstered at her side. "You look good, Maggie," Lisa told. The cowgirl spun around, drawing her guns. The little girl had a ring pop in her mouth, and she fired the guns, a small bang and a puff of smoke coming from the toys.

Maggie nodded her head in agreement, and sucked on the candy like a pacifier; she still had a weird obsession over that thing. The doorbell rang, and Maggie ran past Lisa to answer it. She loved answering the door, Lisa remembering how she and Bart always ran to answer the door when they were her age.

Lisa headed to Bart's room. She knocked on the door, waiting for her older brother to open it. A couple of years ago, she just walked in, and she regretted it. Now she always knocked on someone's door. Bart opened the door, Lisa finding him dressed as Frankenstein's Monster. "You finally ready?"

"Oh, come on!" Lisa said. Bart got out of his room, closing the door behind him. "I wanna look good! I had to make sure everything was perfect." She followed him down the stairs. "And besides, we'll still get to the party in time!"

"Yeah, I know," Bart told her. "But I was supposed to go out with Nikki earlier and pull some pranks! Now she probably thinks I bailed on her."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't be egging people's houses, and lighting bags of dog crap on fire to begin with."

"Halloween is about two things; tricks and treats!"

They headed to the kitchen, finding Marge standing over a batch of Halloween cookies; witches, pumpkins, bats, and other Halloween-themed shaped. Their mother looked up at them.

"Oh, you two look adorable!" Marge looked up from her tray of cookies to look at her children. "You two are gonna scare the living geebies out of everyone!"

"Thanks, Mom," Bart said sarcastically, walking over and taking one of the cookies. He took a bite of the cookie. He spoke with his mouth full of cookie. "We're leaving now, just wanted to say bye."

"Alright. Just be careful you two." Marge turned to Lisa. "And Lisa, make sure Bart stays out of trouble."

"Don't worry, Mom, I will," Lisa told her. Bart groaned in annoyance. After saying their good-byes, they headed out the door, for Bart's car. Lisa saw Maggie with her friends, getting candy from a neighbor, and waved bye to her, the cowgirl waving back.

Lisa got in the passenger's side, Bart already in the driver's seat. "Bart," Lisa said, "I thought you and Nikki were gonna go as Dracula and Booberella?"

Bart started the car, then froze at her words. "D'oh!" he banged his head on the steering wheel.

Lisa sighed. "Thought so." Having no time to change, Bart drove off.

Lisa entered Professor Frink's old house with Bart, looking at the decorations that had been put. "Welcome, friends, to the most haunted spot in all of Springfield!" Lisa turned around to find Martin Prince, dressed as some kind of fairy, greeting them with his usual, annoying, overly optimistic voice. "I am Martin! Prince of the fair-"

"Shut up, Martin!" Bart told him loudly. "What's with the stupid costume? You're supposed to be something scary!"

"Bart, leave him alone!" Lisa said. "He can be what he wants to be." She looked at Martin; she did have to admit that he looked ridiculous. "I think you great Martin."

"Thank you, Lisa. I see you dressed up as the witch of Springfield legend."

"Yeah. It seemed appropriate, you know?"

"Why? Bart asked.

Martin began to explain. "You see, Bart, this house was built on the very spot where the witch of Springfield was hung. Thus, it would only make sense for-"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Bart grabbed Lisa's arm. "Let's find Nikki and Milhouse. See ya Martin."

"Farewell, Bartenstein! Farewell, Lisa the Witch!" Martin made a big show of saying goodbye, waving his star wand around dramatically, as if casting a spell.
Bart pulled her towards the crowd of teenagers and young men and women. She didn't want to say it, but she was glad to be away from Martin; he was good for having an intelligent conversation, but he wasn't any good at parties.

Lisa and Bart wandered around, looking for their partners. They soon found the muscular Milhouse bench pressing two large jack'o'lanterns, holding them by their stems. He was dressed as Radioactiveman, sporting the suit, the insignia, even the cape. Lisa's eye twitched when she saw him.

"Hey, Lisa!" Milhouse dropped the pumpkins, letting them roll around the floor, and ran up to Lisa and Bart. "Bart! You're Frankenstein!" He extended his hand.

"Bartenstein," Bart corrected, taking his best friends hand and shaking it. "Have you seen Nikki?"

"She's right over there, by the snack bar." He pointed passed a few people, and Lisa could Nikki sitting with an annoyed looked on her face, one leg draped over the other; she was dressed in a Booberella costume, her breasts showing a lot more cleavage than necessary. "But I wouldn't go to her if I was you, Bart. She's pretty mad at you for not showing to go pranking. Wait till she cools down a bit."

"Hell!" Bart looked at Lisa. "Thanks a lot, Lis'." He walked towards Nikki, and Lisa could already tell that he would regret it, judging from the look on her face.

"Lisa? Are you a zombie?"

Lisa hummed in anger. "No, I'm The Springfield Witch! You were supposed to be The Springfield Warlock, remember?!"

"Oh. My bad. It's just, Radioactiveman is so cool! And besides," he flexed his large muscles, "that stupid Warlock costume would've covered up my muscles!" He looked at Lisa with a look that Lisa guessed was supposed to be romantic. "Do you wanna dance?"

"Maybe later." Lisa walked away from Milhouse, heading towards Nikki. Bart was walking the opposite way, away from his girlfriend. passing Lisa with grump. She sat next to Nikki, the two girls annoyed at their boyfriends. "Hey, Nikki."

"Hey, Lis'." Nikki looked at her. "Your idiot screw up too?"

"Yeah. We were supposed to be in a couples' costume! The Springfield Witch and Warlock! But he said that the costume wouldn't have shown off his muscles!"

"Tell me about it," Nikki said. "I'm not all that mad at Bart for bailing on me with the pranks, but I reminded him time and time again that we were going as Dracula and Booberella! That idiot!"

"I swear, those two are dumber than a sack of rocks!"

The two girls chatted for about an hour, bad mouthing their boyfriends and laughing at their stupidity. Eventually, Nikki stood up to go and dance with Bart, not wanting to have wasted her Halloween night. Lisa thought she still looked a little mad, and laughed a little when she got close to some other guys in order to annoy Bart.

"You still mad?" Lisa looked to her right, seeing the blue haired, muscle man.

"A little," Lisa admitted. "You were right though; that costume really shows off your muscles." She stayed silent for a few more seconds, then finally spoke again. "Alright, let's dance."

"Let's go!" Milhouse pulled her to the dance floor, dancing in, Lisa's opinion, like a dork.

An hour passed, and Lisa was bored through her skull. Milhouse kept talking about how he's trying to reach a personal record for lifting weights, and Lisa quickly lost interest. She looked at Bart and Nikki, who were both laughing at something. She wished she had a relationship like that. Being with Milhouse was nice, but she wanted excitement, someone who could make her feel alive.

"I'm gonna go grab a drink," Lisa said, interrupting Milhouse.

"Alright. Mind grabbing me something?"

"Yeah, sure." Lisa stood and walked off towards the snack tables. She looked for a sealed beverage, knowing full well that someone had spiked the punch, having seen several people stumble and fall. She found a few glass bottles of Buzz Cola, and grabbed one for herself. She downed the can in one gulp.

"Impressive." Lisa turned around in shock, and saw a young man dressed as a bank robber in front of her. His eyes were covered in black make-up, and he held a large sack with a dollar sign on it. "Didn't think you could that."

"Hi Nelson!" Lisa smiled at the bully. She had wondered if he would come to the party; rumor around school said he was going to be pranking every teacher in the town, and that would have taken all night. "I see you're a bank robber."

"Yeah. All I could afford." Lisa frowned a little. She hated to think that someone so nice would have such a bad home-life. "You know, you would win a lot a drinking games if you tried."

"No thanks," Lisa told him, "I don't drink alcohol. I'm only sixteen; have to wait five more years."

"Yeah, well, I hate waiting. So, you here with that loser Milhouse?"

"He is not a loser, Nelson!" Lisa defended. "Why are you even bad mouthing him? You know he's a bodybuilder now, right?"

"Once a coward, always a coward," Nelson told her. "And besides, why are you defending him? It's not like you're having any fun with him!"
"I am too!"

"Am not!"

"Am too!"

"Am not!" Nelson stepped closer to her. "I know when you're having fun, and you're not having it. Trust me, I'm a lot more fun than that loser."

Lisa tried to talk, but found herself unable to. She knew he was right, but she didn't want to admit it. Milhouse was her boyfriend, she was supposed to defend him. "Well, what's your idea of fun?"

"I'm glad you asked." Nelson grabbed her wrist and guided her away from the snack tables. Lisa looked towards Milhouse, making sure he didn't see them, and found that he didn't; he was just flexing his muscles again, admiring himself.

Lisa followed Nelson upstairs and into a room. A girl and boy were in there, and Lisa was about to apologize when Nelson spoke. "Beat it!" The two left immediately, hurrying passed Lisa and Nelson.

"What kind of girl do you think I am?!" Lisa asked. "I'm not gonna sleep with you just cause-"

"Shut up, already!" Nelson interrupted. "That's not why I brought you in here." He set his money sack on a bed, and only then did Lisa hear the clinking of glass bottles. He dumped the contents of the bag out onto the bed, showing Lisa several bottles of Duff beer.

"Nelson, how did you get these?!" Lisa asked, walking up to the bottles and inspecting them. She picked up one of the bottles. Her heart began to race.

"I have a fake I.D.; it's not that hard to get one."

"What?! Nelson, owning a fake I.D. is illegal! You could get in real trouble!"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm probably gonna get in trouble for something else anyway." He took a bottle and opened it, drinking it all in one big gulp, just as Lisa did before with the soda.

Lisa felt her heart race. Why was she getting so excited? She wasn't scared, she knew that. She felt ... adventurous? Lisa opened the bottle in her hands and drank the contents. She immediately felt woozy.

"Whoa!" Nelson said, surprised at her sudden courage. "Wasn't expecting that! Thought I'd have to convince you more!"

"Well," Lisa told him, poking his chest, her voice slightly slurred, "you clearly don't know how 'hic' unexpected I can be!" She knew something in her sentence wasn't right, but she didn't know what.

"You can't hold your liquor!" Nelson laughed. "See? I told you I was more fun than him!"

Lisa stumbled a bit; Nelson was right, she couldn't hold her liquor. "Oh yeah? 'hic' Well, I'm more fun than you are!"

"Prove it!" Nelson said.

"Alrighty!" Lisa leaned into Nelson, kissing him on the lips. She immediately felt him returning the kiss, and she wondered for a second if this was his plan, but immediately stopped caring. The kiss deepened, and Lisa felt her and Nelson fall to the bed.

Lisa awoke with a horrible headache. She sat up, trying to remember what happened. She remembered the party, the couple's costume fiasco. Then she remembered dancing, then getting a drink, then... her eyes widened. She looked to her left, and saw Nelson next to her, in bed, his shirtless torso barely covered by a thin blanket.

"Oh, god," Lisa moaned. "What did I do?"

Lisa quietly got out of bed, not wanting to wake Nelson up. She found that she still had most of her clothes on, and was thankful for that. She quietly left the room, leaving Nelson sleeping on the bed. She looked at the house; it was in complete disarray; bottles everywhere, food on the floor, and some people were even passed out on the floor.

Lisa went into a bathroom to check herself, and found that her make-up was all smeared and ruined, thanks to her sweating. Other than the make-up being ruined, she looked good. She left the bathroom, hoping to find her brother.

Lisa looked around for Bart, hoping he hadn't left her. Often at parties, Lisa would get tired of the drunken stupidity around her, and walk home, and Bart knew that. He might have thought she left.

Lisa went outside to look for the car, the morning sun worsening her headache, and found it was missing. He left. Lisa sighed and sat down on the stoop. She took her cell phone out of her pocketbook and looked for a number. She didn't want to call her family; her parents wouldn't approve of her having gotten drunk, and Bart would never let her live it down. She scrolled down her list of contacts, finding Nikki. She could trust her.

Half an hour later, Nikki showed up at The Frink House. Lisa had still been sitting on the porch, waiting patiently for her friend. Nelson had yet to wake-up, and was still in the house, sleeping. Lisa stood up and walked to the car.

Nikki stopped the car and opened the passenger side door for Lisa, who got in and closed the door. "What happened to you last?" Nikki asked. "We all thought you walked home."

"I accidentally spent the night," Lisa told her. "Oh, my heads hurt."

"You mean, 'your head hurts'?"

"Yeah, that." Lisa groaned in pain. "Nelson was right, I can't hold my alcohol."

"NELSON!?" Nikki said loudly, causing Lisa to cover her ears in pain.

"Please, not so loud!"

"Sorry," Nikki apologized, speaking in a softer voice. "You got drunk with Nelson?"

"Yeah. I don't know how it happened. I grabbed one of his beers, drank it, and next thing I know, I'm kissing him!"

Nikki looked at her with an awed expression. "Did you two...?"

Lisa put her hands to her face in embarrassment. "Yes, we did. What am I going to do? I'm supposed to be with Milhouse!"

"Well, why'd you do it with Nelson, then?" Nikki asked, trying to force down a small smile.

"I got drunk! It's not like I planned on it!"

"I don't think so!" Nikki told her. "I think you got drunk and slept with Nelson because you wanted to!"

Lisa considered Nikki's words. Was she right? Did she want to be with Nelson? She recalled her thoughts the previous night, and remembered her lamenting have such a boring boyfriend, how he never brought any excitement into her life. She then remembered the feeling she had when she was with Nelson; he made her heart race, with the way he challenged her, the way he openly admitted to having a fake I.D..

"I think you're right," Lisa said. "I wanted to be with Nelson."

"Told you!" Nikki put the car into gear, and began to drive. "So, are you gonna dump Milhouse?"

"I think..." Lisa trailed off. "I think I am."

Hoped you all liked it. Please don't forget to leave a comment. Seriously, it helps a lot more than you may think.
A Simpsons Halloween. Enjoy.
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This is Laura before and after she changes her look because she looks too much like Lisa.
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Future Simpsons
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A sprite artwork of Ling Bouvier at age 7. Based on the design of Fox's accident from the episode "Changing of the Guardian".

I know she looks younger than that, but this was as good as we were going to get. Hopefully, Fox won't cause anymore damage, considering that current Ling has bypassed Maggie in age and is now being whipped around like a circus monkey.

Despite the mediocrity of the episode, this was the ONE good thing that I was able to work with. Now let's forget that the whole episode and "Love is a Many-Splintered Thing" ever happened.

A few tidbits:
-Maggie's best friend (and adopted cousin)
-Has a crush on Bart/looks up to him.
-Develops feelings for Gheet Nahasapeemapetilon.
-Likes boxing and playing the flute.
-Dreams of fighting Drederick Tatum
-A fan of both Kim "Fireball" Messer and Zhu Bajie.
-Madam Wu is her nanny (since six years earlier).
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Adult Lisa and teen Maggie at the vacation. Aren't they cute sisters? ^^
Always wanted draw them like that :heart:

No photoshoped ship. 100% of my own, talentless, pathetic work =)
But, well.. Still better then pedo-incest simpsons porn "art" =)

The Simpsons (c) Matt Groening
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Maggie is one of my favorite characters.
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lisa is older now and with that she needs a new dress
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lisa wearing her shorter dress
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A young man mysteriously shrinks and tries desperately to get his mother's attention.
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Annin aprarece en Dragon Ball y es la guardiana del horno mágico. Es la responsable de guardar la armonía entre el mundo de los vivos y el de los muertos.
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Trying to draw my friends as Simpsons characters. This picture is me and my Dew brother, :iconmountaindew-addict:.
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So, this is my side of the collab with mattgreoningfangirl9 ^u^

She made the line art, while I did the coloring this time around!
This was actually pretty fun to color, even though I'm actually the type who hates coloring overall, but somehow this was just entertaining to do. I think it turned out pretty good myself :meow:


NOTE: Only the creator of the line art may post this to their account if they want to as long as credit is given!

Line art (c) mattgreoningfangirl9

Coloring (c) ?xXLady-MafiaXx
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A new bakery opens up in town, and Marge decides to go in with Lisa to go pick up some sweets.
Marge ends up meeting Mama, a newer resident in Springfield, who decided to open up a shop in the town with Fat Tony's son, Michael. (And a couple of others, too)

Mama and Marge begin chatting it up, and Lisa and Michael aren't taking the sudden re-meet very well after a certain "incident". (Read the Bart Simpson #80 comic, "Springfield Elementary Shakedown" if you don't know what I'm referring to)


So, my first ever collab with the lovely Sny--Eamdray, and it turned out amazing! ;u;
I of course drew the line art, while she did the coloring ^u^

I added a little bit extra to the coloring, but just a little bit. The food on the posters and the lines that make up the words on them, but overall nothing big. Thanks so much for letting me upload this, you did an amazing job! >w<


Big Mama/Line art(c) xXLady-MafiaXx

Coloring (c) Sny--Eamdray

Michael Da'mico, Marge and Lisa (c) The Simpsons
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Little Art Trade with :iconmattgreoningfangirl9:.

I hope U like it:D

Bart Simpson (c) Matt Groening
Kasey (c) :iconmattgreoningfangirl9:
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It just sorta happened.....
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The Simpsons
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This "Thing" almost didn't get done in time. It was an early concept for my fanfiction story "It's a Simpson Thing"… , and was based more on the 2011 version of the movie. It looks like Patty and Selma got morphed together in this alien mixture. "Homie...we've got a nice yummy beer for you if you'll just come out. Hey, sis...what time is it? Isn't MacGyver on tonight?"

Happy Halloween everyone!

The Simpsons are the property of Matt Groening. The Thing is the property of Universal Pictures.
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Lisa and Bob dancing
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The idea was good but I'm not really satisfied by the final result... :(


Re-Hominator by Claudia-R Bart In Wonderland by Claudia-R Bob Scissorhands by Claudia-R Eastern Promises by Claudia-R


Original Poster: professormortis.files.wordpres…

IMBD link:

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Treehouse of Horror XXIII: What if Marge was to be sacrificed instead of Homer? :fear:

I originally had a background, but it detracted from the main image.

Marge Simpson, Treehouse of Horror (c) Matt Groening
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FRPG user pic, photomontage
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