Death of a Simpson
Written By: Roger J. Milos III

Authors Notes: Death of a Simpson began as a small segment in a much broader storyline that I really liked and decided to go back and flesh out. This is my first attempt at Fan Fiction so forgive me for the length. I don't know any better. I found Homer the most difficult to write for; I went for canon circa Seasons 4-6, this was a conscious decision. Otherwise it rapidly would've degenerated into the more recent "Shrieking Homer" and I think the overall quality of the story is better for it. Maggie was definitely the most interesting to write for, however, because she's pretty much left blank (exempting the future-centric episodes and her occasional affinity for firearms...). I was satisfied with the direction her characterization took and being the oldest of three boys, I'm about as far from being in her situation as possible. The rest of the characters were pretty easy to fall into because I either felt close to them emotionally or I knew someone in my life to base them off of. Watching 3-4 hours of the show almost daily might've had some influence too.

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Chapter 8 - Consequences
Lisa looked upon the reddish-brown box displayed before her. It was simple and elegant, wreathed in flowers of every shape, size and color. Pictures of suddenly painful memories and letters of sorrow adorned the display of grief.

She knew what it contained, but every shred of sanity she clung to refused to admit the truth. In the background she could hear a slow, lilting, organ-based melody that spoke to her of hope through change.

On Lisa's left were Homer and Marge, gratefully accepting the offered hands of solace.

"We're so sorry for your loss... you know you can always count on us for support. After all you done-diddily-did when I lost Maude..." Ned Flanders gathered his two sons and led them to a nearby pew.

Maggie sat on her right, transfixed with the sheer number of mourners showing up. Every now and then the small girl would catch sight of the casket up front and break down into fresh tears, each individual drop tearing Lisa's heart to shreds.

A collective hush filled the chapel as Reverend Lovejoy entered the room and the music faded abruptly. He solemnly approached the short podium adjacent to the casket. Like a record, Lovejoy scanned the reading that had been prepared for him and began to read aloud.

"We gather here, today, in order to mourn the passing of Bartholomew Jo-Jo Simpson. The tragic twist of fate that brought such an abrupt closure to the story of one of the Almighty's Blessed Children truly affects us all. Let us lend our understanding and support to the family of young Bart, however, for it is now that they need our help the most."

"In life, young Bart was known by most of the people of our community, though perhaps not in the most joyful light... (I kept telling him to "stay away" from my Jessica...) Anyways... we will always hold him in our hearts and minds." Timothy Lovejoy continued on for a few minutes before he paused and rechecked his notes.

"I understand a few of his family members have sentiments prepared, so if you wish to say anything, now is the time."

Maggie started and looked up at her family. Marge nodded numbly, nudging Homer and Lisa out of their seats. The family rose in unison and filed out into the large center aisle, making their way to the front of the chapel.

Marge and Homer approached the coffin first, both shaking visibly as the body within was suddenly visible. Maggie sniffed and followed her parents, but Lisa hung back. She watched her family and tried to borrow their strength so she could go through with this.

Marge finally turned and beckoned to her older daughter, prompting Lisa to take a few steps forward. She could see him now. Tears splashed down her face as she fell to her knees on the thin padded bench in front of her brother's body. Maggie patted Lisa on the shoulder consolingly before walking to the podium and grabbing the microphone.

"Excuse me, everyone. My name is Margaret Simpson. If it would be alright, I have a song prepared to sing for my brother, Bart." She looked at her grieving audience and saw no objection. Maggie's haunting voice began to echo through the high-ceilinged chamber as Lisa turned to regard her sister in awe.

Oh a man is placed upon the steps and a baby cries,
And high above you can hear the church bells
Start to ring.
And as the
Heaviness, oh the heaviness, the body
Settles in,
Somewhere you can hear a mother sing.

Then it's one foot, then the other,
As you step out on the road of hope.
Step out on the road.
How much weight? How much?
Then it's how long? And how far?
And how many times
Oh, before it's too late?

Calling all angels, calling all angels.
Walk me through this one,
Don't leave me alone.
Calling all angels, calling all angels.
We're tryin' and we're hopin',
But we're not sure how...

Ah, and every day you gaze upon the sunset,
With such love and intensity.
It's, ah, it's almost as if you could only crack the code.
Then you'd finally understand
What all this means.

Ah, but if you could,
Do you think you would
Trade in all, all the pain and suffering?
Ah, but then you'd miss
The beauty of the light upon this earth,
And the sweetness of believing...

Calling all angels, calling all angels.
Walk me through this one,
Don't leave me alone.
Calling all angels, calling all angels.
We're tryin' and we're hopin'
But we're not sure why...

Calling all angels, calling all angels.
Walk me through this one,
Don't leave me alone.
Calling all angels, calling all angels...
We're tryin', we're hopin',
We're hurtin', we're lovin',
We're cryin', we're callin',
Cause we're not sure how,
This... goes...

Lisa found that she couldn't take her eyes off of Bart as her sister's words drew to a close. When Maggie's voice faded, she turned and held out the gun she suddenly held in her hand.

"You have to be strong, Lis! Make it right, please!"

Lisa couldn't stop herself from rising and reaching for the gun. As her hand closed over the warm barrel it began shaking violently before a brilliant light suffused the scene and there was an ear-shattering explosion.



Lisa opened her eyes, panting heavily, and looked out the window pressed up against her face. Just visible through the collective gloom she could make out her house approaching slowly.

"This it?" said a man from the driver's seat of the car, next to him sat another man. Lisa saw they were in uniform and recognized the one who had spoken as Eddie, a local cop. She sat up and shook her head, trying to clear away the horrible images dancing in the back of her mind. Some memories returned and Lisa recalled why she was in the back seat of a cop car. In her lap lay the damp coat she had refused to turn over to the police. In the confusion of the moment Lisa dimly recalled finding and concealing her mother's small handgun inside of it and, sure enough, she could feel it's cold handle through the thick cloth.

"Lisa?" Maggie asked again and glanced up to the expectant faces of the two police officers.

"Yes, I'm sorry, must've dozed off there for a second. I'm still a little dizzy from the chloroform..."

"S'no problem, you sure you wouldn't rather just go to the hospital?" Asked Lou, the other officer, from the passenger's seat.

"No, thank you." She answered firmly. "I have to see my mom, she needs to hear what's happened."

Lisa wrapped the gun tightly inside the bloody coat and opened the door to get out. As her foot hit the driveway the front door flew open. Marge appeared, in silhouette, at the entryway and gasped when she saw her oldest daughter.

"Lisa, oh thank god! Where have you been?!" She made it halfway down the paved walkway before spotting Maggie's coat, held protectively, in Lisa's arms.

She froze.

"Lisa... where's Maggie? She and Bart disappeared on hour ago, where's your sister?!" Marge frantically wrung her already red wrists and approached her daughter. "Tell me... please?"

"I'm right here, Mom!" Maggie cried out and ran awkwardly around from behind the police cruiser. She positively flew into her mother's waiting arms.

"Oh! My precious little angel! You never should have left without telling me! I was so worried about you and what with your sister and everything...! "Marge paused to catch her breath, though she sounded relieved. "I'm going to have a very serious talk with your brother, girls. He's sixteen for crying out loud, he should know better! Where is he?! Where's Bart? Stop hiding, young man! Is he still in the car?"

"Mom..." Lisa tried to say, but her voice was suddenly caught in her throat. She felt like she was going to choke on the thickness that hung in the air. Maggie noticed her sister's apparent paralysis and grabbed her mother's hand to get her attention.

"Bart got hurt, Mom." She said delicately. "He's at the hospital. We should go there."

Lisa held up the coat with one hand while she tucked the gun safely into the belt of her jeans, underneath the hem of her T-shirt. Marge glanced up and her face blanched when she saw the bloodstains covering it.

"Y...your father will be home soon! He should know, yes, oh! No! He needs to meet us at the hospital, we can't wait for him!" Marge attempted to remain calm and take control of the situation. But to her daughters, she appeared to be unable to decide what to deal with first.

"Mom, take it easy. Go inside, call the jail and make sure he gets the message. Lisa and I will get changes of clothes ready and maybe some other stuff to bring with us." Maggie offered.

"Good thinking, Maggie." Lisa stepped forward. "We'll get ready while you call Dad. We can leave as soon as you get through to him."

"You folks want an escort? Y'know, extenuating circumstances and such?" Called Lou from the cop car.

"Yes! Oh, thank you! Just give us a few minutes to get some things, we'll be right back!" Marge disappeared inside the house.

Lisa looked at Maggie, who eyed the gun concealed at her sister's waist, as they followed their mother.

"We gotta put it back!" Maggie implored her sister desperately. "She can't find out!"

"Actually, we should clean it first, so it doesn't smell like gunpowder." Lisa said knowledgeably, with a frown. "Make sure she stays upstairs for now, I'll need a few minutes."

Lisa walked through the living room and turned quickly, heading into the kitchen. Maggie plodded up the stairs and down the hallway to her bedroom door, opposite her parent's own. Once inside, she left the entry open to keep an eye out for Marge. Methodically, Maggie gathered together the few things she would need for an overnight stay at the hospital.

"I killed a man, today." The thought crept through her head, catching Maggie off guard. She gave an involuntary shudder, fled out into the hallway and went into Lisa's room. Maggie quickly repeated the process, trying to distract herself from those errant thoughts. In the corner of the room, shining proudly on it's display stand, stood Lisa's saxophone. Maggie expertly disassembled the instrument without thought, having watched her sister do it countless times, and packed it safely into it's storage case.

Out in the hallway, Marge opened her bedroom door and paced towards the stairs.

"Hey, Mom! Can you help me carry all this stuff? I can't do it by myself."

"Sure, honey! But why the sax?" Marge entered the room and looked perplexed.

"Oh... well, I figured Lisa might want to have something to do later. Maybe she can play for Bart?" Maggie replied, thinking quickly.

"That's a wonderful idea, Maggie! Here, let me take that. Now where's your sister? We need to get going! Your father will meet us there in a few hours."

"She wanted to sit down for a few minutes, so I packed for her. She's probably ready now, let's go!" Maggie handed the heavy case to her mother and hoped that Lisa was, indeed, ready.

At the bottom of the staircase sat Lisa, waiting patiently.

"Got everything?" She spun as she stood, covertly throwing Maggie a thumbs up. Lisa saw the case in Marge's hand. "Hey... my sax?"

"Yes, it was your sister's idea and we shouldn't make the officers wait too long. Everyone out to the car, er... well, both of you..." Marge sighed painfully and plunged out into the night, grabbing her purse off the table as she passed.


The clock ticked at an agonizingly slow pace while they stared bleakly at the sea foam green walls of the visitor's lounge of Springfield General Hospital. Upon arrival, the receptionist had directed them to the small room, on the top floor, near where the "Intensive Care Unit" was located for quick helicopter access.

After almost two hours with no word on Bart's condition, all three jumped expectantly as Homer appeared from down a side hall and called out.

"Marge? Has anyone seen my wife? Big blue bouffant?! What about you?" Homer pulled aside a wide-eyed nurse as she passed him and she nodded slowly, looking frightened. "Where?"

"I think they're all in the lounge." The woman pointed in their direction.

"Dad! You made it!" Lisa got up, smiling for the first time since that morning, and stretched her muscles back to wakefulness.

"Oh, Lisa, honey! You're back!" Homer gazed up towards the sky as he began to run towards his daughter. He added, "Thank you, Superman!"

"Uh, dad? Fictional character." Lisa chuckled softly as she met her father halfway in a warm embrace.

"Yea... he sure is..." Homer tossed his eyes back to the ceiling dreamily. "What's going on, Lisa? What's wrong with the boy... I mean, with Bart?" He turned his gaze to his daughter, looking suddenly as helpless as a newborn baby.

"Um... well... give me a moment, Mom should hear this, too." Lisa led her father back to the lounge and waited while he took his seat next to Marge. "It was Sideshow Bob. He did this."

"Now hang on! That's done! Isn't it? He stopped coming for Bart years ago!" Marge looked outraged at the mention of the man who had repeatedly tried to murder her son.

"No, Mom! He never stopped! He was just biding his time until something changed. And it did! Bob told me he was the one who murdered Krusty back then!"

"But why now? What did he do to Bart, Lisa?"

"Bob snapped, Mom! He shot Bart, then himself!" Lisa tried to catch Maggie's reaction, hoping her sister wouldn't object to the obvious lie.

"Oh my lord..." Marge collapsed back into her chair. "Oh my god..."

Maggie shifted her attention elsewhere while Lisa continued explaining whatever she decided had happened and spotted both the first and last person she wanted to see at that moment. Dr. Julius Hibbert appeared from around a bend in the hallway, staring intensely at his charts, and shaking his head almost sorrowfully.

"No..." Maggie squeaked as her mind interpreted his body language. " NO!"

Everyone in the room stopped and looked at Maggie questioningly. Dr. Hibbert rounded the corner, becoming visible to the rest of the family.

"Julius! Please tell me he's alright!" Marge cried out from her husband's protective clutch.

"I'm sorry, Marge..." The large man said in his deep, powerful voice. "It's simply too early to tell. He just got out of a very serious surgical procedure, so we won't know for sure until morning, please understand."

"Surgi-pro-wha, now?" Homer asked, looking lost.

"He means Bart is okay for the moment, Dad." Lisa interpreted.

"More or less. It's hard to say for now." The doctor added.

"Oh, that's good. Wait till morning, right?" Homer seemed to catch up a little.

"We will closely monitor your son's status throughout the night, Mr. Simpson." Hibbert assured him, then paused and looked uncomfortable for a split second. "I don't know exactly the best way to bring this up to you so perhaps I should just say it. I've... seen you at the church every Sunday for years..."

"What are you talking about?" Lisa looked him in the eye, already suspecting where he was going with his cryptic comment.

"Look... as much as you may want to deny and distance yourself from what could happen, it may be in your son's best interest to let me contact Reverend Lovejoy."

"Don't say that! Anything but that!" Marge choked angrily as she dissolved into sobbing once more. Lisa and Maggie watched their mother sadly and moved closer to help hold her up.

"I'm sorry. It was too soon. Why don't I give you some time to discuss this? If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask a nurse to page me." Dr. Hibbert fell back behind his professional veneer and turned to leave.

"Contact the reverend, please." Marge said weakly.

"Marge? Honey?" Homer looked into his wife's beautiful hazel eyes, ignoring the tears streaming from them.

"It's his soul, Homey! My god isn't this horrible enough already? I can't live with that as a regret!"

"Do it." Homer nodded to the doctor.

"Can we see him?" Marge's head rose hopefully.

"Ah, heh, heh, heh! I'm afraid he's still unconscious, but I guess that would be alright. I'll tell the nurses to let you in." Dr. Hibbert replied jovially.

"Thank you, Julius!" Marge said sincerely as she stood to follow him to the ICU.

"Not at all, Marge. I understand how difficult this must be for you." He turned to Lisa and added. "You should let someone take a look at you before you leave, young lady. I want to make sure there are no lasting injuries, your sister, too."

"Ho'kay, Dr. Hibbert. Maybe in the morning once Bart's doing better."

"Fair enough, child. Ah, heh, heh, heh! Come along, all of you."

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