Lisa Simpson's New Friend

Chapter 8

I mostly liked living with the Simpson family because Lisa and I had sleepovers every night and that was always fun. The 3 months had gone by fast with Lisa and I getting to know each other more and more with each passing day, I also got to teach Mrs. Simpson a thing or two in the kitchen and she accepted the help I gave her with gratitude.

With just 2 more days left until my Papa was going to be released from the hospital, on Wednesday night, Lisa, Mrs. Simpson, and I came home from grocery shopping for ingredients to make dinner and we saw Mr. Simpson pull up in a new car. "Homer, where'd you get that truck?" Mrs. Simpson asked. "Uh, it-it fell off a truck. Uh, you know, a truck-truck." Mr. Simpson answered her. But Papa's told me that that's the excuse you give someone when the thing didn't really fall off a truck. Suddenly Legs and Bart drove up in a tow truck with 5 trucks stacked on top of each other. "Where'd you get that?" Lisa asked her brother. "Eh, it fell off a truck-truck truck," Bart answered. Before I even had the time to blink, an even bigger pickup truck came with 11 pickup trucks with 6 cars in each of them.

After dinner, Bart, Mr. Simpson, Legs, Louie, and I went to play some poker in the garage, which is where we're currently keeping our various cigarettes, beer, watches, and TVs. "Homer, Helen Lovejoy never returned my casserole dish from the church potluck. Could you pick it up?" Mrs. Simpson asked her husband from inside the house. "No problem. I'll be back in ten minutes." Mr. Simpson said, looking at his new 7 watches on his left arm. Ever since Mr. Simpson and Bart joined the Mafia they started acting differently.

"Hi-diddily-ho, mob-areenos!" said Ned Flanders who was the next-door neighbor to the Simpson family for a long time. This surprise visit from the friendly neighbor made everyone pull out a weapon. Legs and Louie pulled out their guns, Mr. Simpson got his baseball bat, and Bart had his slingshot ready to fire their cat Snowball at Mr. Flanders. "I, uh...I got your, uh, phone bill in my mail by mistake, and, uh...I-I'll just pay it." Mr. Flanders said as he ran away in fear. Bart and Mr. Simpson were laughing at the sight of this.

Bart pulled a gun out and cocked it, "Dad, you want I should plug him in the ankle?" he asked. "You monster!" Mr. Simpson scolded his son as he took the gun out of his hands. "Just cut his Achilles tendon with this knife." Mr. Simpson said as he handed his son a pocketknife. The more these two kept on laughing the more I hated the people they were becoming because of this life.

At that moment I put down my cards, "Bart, Mr. Simpson, we are getting out of the mob business, right now." I told them. "But this is the only life I know!" Mr. Simpson exclaimed, clearly not happy with my decision, that they should go back to civilian life.

"I'm sorry. I just can't live with myself, seeing you this way." I explained. "Can I still talk with my hands?" he asked gesturing his hands in a way you see mobsters do in movies. "I'm afraid not," I told him. "What about my ears?" he asked wiggling his ears. "No," I answered in a deadpan tone as his ears dropped in sadness at my answer.