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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"Sideshow" Bob Terwilliger" was perfectly aware that he'd lost his mind. In fact that was one of the few things in his life he could actually accept. For more than seven years he had been on the run from the law, all on account of a mere ten-year-old child, no less!

No... it was the clown. That filthy, disgusting clown he couldn't stand!

Sitting behind the wheel of his stolen Oldsmobile, Bob was so focused on the building in front of him that he barely registered that he wasn't alone anymore.

"Bob!" rasped a voice from the empty seat next to him.

As he watched, hundreds of students loitered outside of the high school that was to become their prison for the next nine months. "They wanted to taste that last bit of freedom that lingers in the air." Terwilliger found that he could respect that, if nothing else.

"Hey, Sideshow Bob! You yutz! What're you waiting for? We gonna do this thing or not?" The voice persisted.

Bob sighed and turned his head to look at the personification of all his demons. The splotchy blue-white makeup was cracked and peeling in places, only serving to accent the depraved look in Krusty the Clown's eyes as he lit yet another of his endless supply of cigarettes.

"Please, Krusty... will you just SHUT UP?! I'm thinking!"

The dirty old clown hacked and coughed up a wad of brownish spittle, shifting slightly to expel it out the window.

"Well I don't see the problem, kid." He took another long drag.

Again Bob sighed. "It's going to be a very long day." This "clown" had single-handedly worn him down over the years, to the point that he no longer had the strength to argue, but that didn't mean he couldn't try.

"It's not that easy." He snarled sarcastically. "I can't just walk in there. Being a wanted criminal does have its limitations, you idiot.

"Ya know what your real problem is, Sideshow?"

Bob growled. Krusty ignored the noise and continued.

"You're doing it all wrong! Think about it. What's this kid got that you ain't?" He emphasized the question by waving the foul-smelling cigarette in Bob's face. "Eh? Why does he always, always, always win?"

"Now, really! I fail to see what that..." Bob's temper disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced. He thought back to all of his encounters with the boy and noticed something he had overlooked for all these years. "Mmm... now that you mention it."

"There ya go. See? No problems. Now can we get on with it, please? My back is killing me today." Krusty hacked again and snuffed the cigarette out on the tip of his tongue.

From the rear seats came a rustling sound that made Bob start.

"Yeah, man! You wanna kill me? You gotta do it right! Show him Krusty!" A small spiky blonde-haired head popped up between the seats and set Bob on edge. "Oh, baby! This is gonna be sweet!"

"This has never happened before." Bob realized, then he smiled in spite of himself at the boy's enthusiasm.

The clown grunted and groaned as he twisted, a knife appearing in his tar stained gloves.

"Sure thing, kid. Just hold still so he can see." With a flick of the wrist the knife sailed through the air and caught the boy in the center of the throat, coating the seats with a wave of red. Bob watched with morbid fascination as the youngster thrashed and kicked before finally laying still.

"That's how ya do it. Nice, quick and easy. Now stop stalling and let's get this show on the road!" Krusty reached down and yanked the spattered knife from its victim.

Off in the distance the bell rang, signaling the start of the first school day of the year. Bob's attention was drawn in the other direction suddenly as a young girl ran past, obviously late, but there was something vaguely familiar about her. The clown began to laugh riotously.

"Bob, you are one lucky son of a bitch!"

He could take no more. Bob erupted into a bout of insane laughter, fully appreciating the twist this new development had dumped into his lap.

"Oh this is too perfect! Prepare yourself, Bart Simpson!" Bob hissed. "For today you lose EVERYTHING you hold dear!"

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