Homer: A Bad Day

Homer sat at a table in dark corner of Sickly Jim's bar.

Hunched over a multitude of empty beer and whiskey glasses, a small glass of dark liquid in his hand, he sobbed uncontrollably.

At the bar Ted McFlunkel, trucker and all round bad-ass, addressed the barman.

"Excuse me, good sir.  I can't help noticing that that gentleman in yonder corner is somewhat distressed. Have you an inkling as to his troubles?"

"Eh?" replied the barman.

"I merely enquired as ... Dammit! I should never have taken elocution lessons. What's with the dude in da corner?"

"That's Homer. Been here all day.  I reckon he's had some bad news."

McFunkel drained his glass.  "Well if he's gonna just sit there cryin' then I reckon that drink in his hand should go to someone who deserves it more."

He stomped across the sawdust covered floor, kicked over the spittoon [Yes, it was that kind of bar], and snatched the glass from Homer's hand. He downed the contents in one go and flung the glass at the wall.  He had hoped it would shatter spectacularly, adding some gravitas to his actions.

It bounced!

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaah-ah-ahah-aaaaaaaa" wailed Homer.  He flung himself over the table, scattering the empty glasses. "You bastard! You [insert expletive {it's not that kind of blog} ] bastard!" he cried.

McFunkel, realising that he may have gone a little too far, said "Whoa there partner!  You wanna tell me what yer troubles are?  Might help to talk".

Through intermittent sobbing Homer said "I lost my job this morning! The cleared my desk and threw me out".

"That ain't the end of the world" said McFunkel.

"That's not all" blubbed Homer.  "I went out to the parking lot and found some guys repossessing my car.  I had to get a bus home,but I got on the wrong bus and went up-town, not down. Then I realised I had no money left so I went to an ATM, but the damned machine kept my card saying I was overdrawn."

"Damn!" sighed McFunkel.  "You've had a rough day."

"There's more" said Homer.  "I had to walk home and on the way I got a call on my cell to tell me that my kids had run away from school, stolen a car and had smashed it into a bridge support.  They're all in critical condition in hospital."

"Damn!"

"When I got home I found my ex-bosses car was parked in my driveway.  When I went into the house I found him in bed with Marge, my wife.  She told me it was all over and I should pack my bags and leave".

"Oh my God! What a day!" gasped McFunkel.

"And now, after all that, I just wanted it all to end but then some brainless idiot comes and drinks my poison!
Can my day get any worse?"

"G-g-g-guh!" said McFunkel, clutching his throat as he hit the floor.

Homer & Marge (Part Five): End Game

The door revolved!

Homer and Marge walked into the foyer of the Knuckleville Community Hospital ... well, Homer 'walked' and Marge 'waddled'.

"C'mon Marge.  Get your ass in gear, will ya!" moaned Homer.

"This bag is heavy, Homer, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm about to give birth" said an exasperated Marge who's patience was wearing as thin as the authors hair.

"Keep it corked, babe. I'll get you some help" said Homer as he scanned the hospitals reception area.

A young lady in a pale blue uniform approached him and said "Hi!  I'm Lyssandra; two S's; and I'm a Knuckleville Blue Bunny volunteer ... ". She pointed at the badge on her lapel. "... and I bake cookies on Tuesdays, run a painting class on Wednesdays and push folks around in chairs on Fridays. How can I be of service?"

"It's a Saturday!" said Homer.

"Yeah, I was bored.  Wad'ya want me t'do?" she replied

"My wife's gonna have a baby any minute now. She's alread pee'd herself ... "

"My water's broke, you idiot!"

" ... yeah, that too!" said Homer. "Get her a wheelchair and point us in the direction of the baby-thingy-place, will ya".

Lyssandra leant to her left and looked around Homer at Marge.  "Whoa!" she said.  "That's one big momma!  Be right back".

She scuttled across the tiled floor towards a the cafe area.  Grabbing the handles of an occupied wheelchair,  tipped out the occupant - "Make way for the new generation Grandma!" -  then hurried back to Homer and Marge.

"Your carriage, M'lady!" she said as Marge eased her bulk into the chair.  "The maternity suites are this way."

She pushed Marge across the foyer towards the lifts. "Gangway!  She's gonna blow any second now!" she yelled.

"Great!" sighed Marge as she was propelled at high-speed through the foyer. "That's all I need.  A moronic husband and a speed junkie volunteer!"

"Hun!  You forgot your bag!" said Homer.

"You ... you ...  I hate you Homer!" she screamed as she disappeared into a lift.

"What? What have I done?" managed a shocked Homer. He picked up the bagand gave chase.

...

Doors opening. Children's ward, Maternity and the place for expectant father's to pace up and down in. said the lift as it arrived on the fourth floor.

"Gnnnnnngggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" said Marge. "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGodit'scomingnowwwww"!

Marge's wheelchair was snatched by a nurse and she was rushed away into the nearest delivery room. "Doctor's already on his way, deary. He ain't dropped a pass yet! You're in good hands now." she said.

"Aaaaarrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggnnnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhh you bastard Homer!" said Marge.

A few seconds later, the stairwell door burst open and Homer gasped his way to where Lyssandra stood.

"Dammit!  Couldn't you have held the door?" he panted.

"Sure" said Lyssandra. "But your wife said if I did, she'd rip my heart out, so ... hey-ho! What's a volunteer to do?"

...

Homer paced up and down in the place for expectant father's to pace up and down in, cursing the fact that Marge had banned him from the delivery room.

"She said if I let 'that bastard' in after what you've done to her, she'd kill me!, so ... as I'm to young to die ... you have to stay out here and wait!" the nurse had told him.

For over an hour he'd listened to Marge's screams, insinuations as to his parentage and threats towards him echo down the hall.  Nurses gave him dirty looks, shook their heads and issued tut's in his direction which quite clearly expressed their disgust.

Then there was silence.

Out of the delivery room stepped the doctor.  He approached Homer and said "Congratulations!  It's healthy baby girl."

Homer awoke 30 minutes later on a trolley next to his wife's bed. His nose was covered by a large dressing. Marge was holding their new baby.

"Wha... what happened?" he managed.

"Sorry Homer!" said Marge. "I told the doctor to punch you on the nose for causing me all that pain.  I didn't think he'd actually do it".

"Is that her? Is that our baby girl?"

"Ain't she cute?"

"She's so small" he said softly.

Homer and Marge looked around.

"So!" said Marge.  "Is that it? Are we finished now?"

"Reckon so" said Homer. "Story's over.  Fini!"

"You'd better go and collect the kids from the movies, Homer".

"Sure.  As long as we're finished here. Er ... Marge?  They've been there nine months.  D'ya think I'll recognise them?"

"Er ..." said Marge.

The author reached up and gripped the upper edge of his laptop's screen. With a tear in his eye ... dust, probably ... he pulled it down and closed his final chapter.

Homer & Marge (Part Four)

Usually I would allow The Mad Lady the honour of posting this (to be honest I forgot about it until this morning) but she is a busy lady and does have her 'bump' to contend with.



The fridge door slammed.

Homer woke up and rolled over in bed, falling into the depression that had been left by the bloated body of his heavily pregnant, and absent, wife.

Hauling himself out of the crater wasn't easy as the memory foam mattress was trying desperately to recover it's shape now that Marge was no longer on it. That was one mattress suffering some pretty severe memory loss!

There was a sucking sound,  like a rubber boot being pulled out of mud, as he finally dragged himself out.
"God-damn woman!" he moaned.

Downstairs there was a clanking of pots and pans.  Homer looked at the clock. It was 3am.

Half asleep, he lurched down the stairs and into the kitchen. "What the hell d'ya think you're doing? D'ya know what time it is?" he growled.

"'m'ungry!" said Marge with a full mouth. "Made mythelf a ham and pineapple piztha with exthtra anchovies".

Homer's bleary eyes scanned the scene in front of him. He flicked some spat-out pizza off his chest.
"I take it that the pizza is somewhere under the ice-cream and chocolate sprinkles?" he hazarded.

"No, they're under the sponge pudding, which is under the ice-cream and sprinkles" said Marge.  "I was hungry and it's all you fault, Mister Can't-Keep-IT-In-His-Pants!  Because of you I look like a Zeppelin, my back is killing me and I have to walk like a duck.  If that ain't enough, I have cravings! CRAVINGS! I haven't had a craving since I met Mister Crawford, my high-school drama teacher.  Hehehehehe! Boy, did I crave!"

"That is disgusting! I think I might throw up!" said Homer as he sat on stool at the breakfast bar and scratched his head. "You know you'll wake the kids with all the racket you're making, don't ya?"

Marge turned and looked off the page and said "No I won't!  Tell him Mister Author."

They went to the movies some time ago.

"And?" barked Marge.

'I forgot to write that you went to collect them'.

"So?"

'So they are, er ... technically that is ... still at the movies!'

"Ta-dah!  Case closed! Kidless!"

Homer, who was idly scratching the cause of Marge's current physical condition and looking slightly confused said "Who you talking to?"

"No one of any importance." came Marge's smug reply. Another slice of her pizza was pushed into her mouth whole.

"Marge?" said Homer.

"Yeth, Oh pain in my ath?"

Homer's stomach rumbled. "I reckon, y'know, if'n I closed my eyes, I reckon just maybe I could manage a little slice of pizza".

"Dream on Mithter Drippy-Wing-Wang*!"





* Wing-Wang = the name given to the male appendage, and action thereof, when said male runs in the nude.

Homer & Marge (Part Three)

Part Three of Homer & Marge which appeared as a guest post on The Mad Lady's blog yesterday. 


The door slammed!

"D'ya speak to your bitch of a boss like you said ya said ya would, Homer?" yelled Marge even before the window panes had stopped vibrating.

Homer's feet flew from the coffee table as he pressed the stop button on the video remote. He remembered briefly the times when Marge would come home and strip in the hallway before entering the living room with a rose between her teeth.

"I did!" he replied. "This morning!".

"Did you assert yourself, like I tol' ya?" asked Marge as she entered the living room.

Homer crushed the empty can of Bud and hid it quickly in his pocket. "I went in there just like you said.  All guns blazing."  he blurted.

"Tell me!" demanded Marge.

"Well, I started by telling the ol' Thighbiter that you were pregnant and I asked for that promotion that's going in Planning.

She said it had already been filled. Marty Slackballs got it. So I said 'What about a raise? I've been here ten years. I deserve it!' and I slammed my fist on her desk, just like you said I should to show her that I was serious and then I said 'God dammit!  I wanna go up in the world!  I wanna be upwardly mobile!  I wanna reach the top and I can't do that by sitting in the Internal Development Department shufflin' paper!  I NEED THAT RAISE OR A PROMOTION!!!'

Stunned by the fact that Homer had actually done what she'd suggested, Marge asked "What did she say to that?".

"Well" said Homer.  "She slammed her fist down as well and said 'Dammit Homer!  I like a man with vim and vigour; some fighting spirit! If it was only down to me I'd give you a raise EVERY day!  Leave it with me and I'll get things moving.'

"Wow!" said Marge. "What happens now?"

Homer shrugged. "I have to call Maisie in Personnel later today and find out how it went".

Marge went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Well done Homer!  Have a Bud!" she said.

Homer grinned at Marge and winked "I'd rather have a ...".

Marge cut him off. "After you call Maisie! Now zip your pants up like a good little boy"

.... Later that day on the phone ...

"Hi Maisie, it's Homer.  Please don't say ... "

"...doh! Dammit Masie!  You said it!"

"OK don't apologise. I'll survive.  Maisie? I'm calling because ol' Thighbiter ... I mean Mrs Legchewovsky ... was gonna sort out my raise. D'ya have any news for me?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Thanks Maisie. Gotta go!  Take care."

"Well?" Marge enquired. "How much?"

"You promised me some wild and wicked rompin' if I got a raise. I bought some cream, a new tube of EZ-glide and some new batteries.  Can we, er, do it now? Huh? Huh?"

"Stop your whining and tell me what she said first" said Marge playfully slapping his face.

Homer's face dropped and and he mumbled "uny ev'n".

"What?"

"uny ev'n".

Marge landed a round-house slap up-side Homer's ear.

"OW! 27! 27!" shrieked Homer, trying to soothe his pain by rubbing vigourously .

"27? What?  A day? A week? What?"

"Floors!"  said Homer.

"Huh?"

"Floors!  Thighbiter's letting me go up in the world alright. And I get a 'raise' every day too!"

"Promotion?"

"Nope! She's having my office moved from the 4th to the 31st floor so she doesn't have to see my face any more".

"Damn!"

"Any chance of that .........."

"NOOOOOOOO!"

"..... romp?"

Marge stormed up the stairs, stomped into the bedroom and slammed yet another door.

After five minutes the bedroom door opened  just a little.

"Homer!" screamed Marge. "Throw me up those damned batteries!"

Homer & Marge (Part Two)

(The Mad Lady was kind enough to post this for me on her blog on February 7th.  This is for those of you who have yet to pay her a visit)

The door slammed.

"Bastard!"

Feet stamped upstairs and wood was put under immense strain as a bedroom door was almost wrenched from it's hinges.

"Bastard!"

More stamping feet on the stairs made their way back to the hallway.

 "Bastard!"

"Is that you? D'ya get the Bud?".  Homer twitched at the thought of a beer, but kept his eyes on the game.

"Bastard!" said Marge once more for effect as she entered the lounge. "I could kill you, Homer. I really could".

In her hand was a box of condoms. She took one out then threw the box at Homer.

"What've I been'n done now?"

"I'm pregnant you idiot!" she growled as she peeled the wrapper off the condom.

"Congratulations Us!" said Homer.  "Woooo-Woooo!  I think."

Marge placed the tip of the condom over two fingers and rolled it down.  It split almost immediately.

"Look!" she spat at Homer holding her hand up and waving it in his face.

"Funny!  That's what happens when I use 'em too.", came Homers reply as he watched his team fumble yet again.

"You ... you ... Oooooooooooooo!  I could strangle you!", cried Marge.  "Did ya read the box? Huh?  Did ya? 'Made in 1959' it says!  Jeez! We already have four kids!  What are we gonna do with a fifth?  How're we gonna manage?"

"S'pose we could sneak another one in without being noticed if we tried"

"I meant financially, smart ass!"

"I reckon I could get my boss to print my pay cheque on a piece'o rubber ... make it stretch, y'know? hahahahahahaha!"

The lounge door slammed behind a fuming Marge.  She once again stamped her way up the stairs and stormed into the bedroom.  The windows rattled as that door too was slammed shut.  In the following silence, there was an audible 'click' as the key turned in the lock.

Homer, still in front of the TV, looked up at the ceiling and shouted "Are we still on for the Cop and Hooker game tonight Marge? Marge?"

Homer & Marge (Part One)

Some of you may have read Homer & Marge (Part One) on The Mad Lady's blog on which it appeared as a guest post last week.

I have just finished Homer & Marge (Part Four) and submitted it to The Mad Lady.

I would like to take this opportunity to point out that I am not a viewer of The Simpson's
and that my Homer and Marge are most definitely not yellow!  

I picked the names Homer and Marge without even thinking that they 
were already 'in use' by our yellow, animated friends.

Anyway, for those of you that have not yet read Homer & Marge (Part One),  
here it is ... 
(it's a little bit rude, but not much! You have been warned!)

Homer & Marge (Part One)

The door slammed.

“WOMAN!” screamed Homer as he threw his coat over the banister. “Get out here and drop ‘em!”

Marge, his wife, walked out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a tea towel. “You what?” she snarled.

“C’mon babes … drop ‘em.  I want some ‘nicies’”

“Not a chance.  I’ve got dinner to make and kids the need to be taken to the movies” she spat at him.

“C’mon babes! The game kicks off in twenty minutes and it’ll only take me two minutes. You’ll be back in the kitchen in no time at all.”

“NO!”

“Aw babes!  Daddy wanna go ‘wabbiting’. Been finking ‘bout it aaaaaall day”, he said putting on his best impression of a four year old.

Looking at her watch she relented and said “OK, but be quick!”

She dropped ‘em and bent over the sofa. She silently thanked God knitting, which she was sure was invented for times like these.

There was a sensation of movement behind her, followed quickly by a thrust that made her drop a stitch.

“A-ha!” she thought, “the terrier is in the warren”.

Heavy breathing and the occasional slap on her butt were the only indications that Homer was still there.

“Oh yeah, baby! Oh yeah! There we go. Another line finished. Soon have this ‘juniors’ sweater finished” she said over her shoulder.

“Uuuuugh, aaaah, yeah! Uuuuunnnnnnnnngggggghhhhhhh!  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” he said and flopped onto the floor.

“Well?” she asked. “Can I get on with dinner now?”

“Sure” came the out of breath reply. “Thanks babes!  You earned yourself another tube of strawberry flavoured willy lube”.

“Gee! Thanks!” she said, as she dribbled her way towards the bathroom.