Simpsons Nipping At Your Nose

Act I

We open on a golden sky at sunset, pink clouds sprinkling snow as the Simpson house rises into view. Decorated with cheap-looking string lights, it's a picturesque Christmas Eve. Zooming in through the living room window, however, we see a 15 year old Bart hammering away at his computer keyboard as a 12 year old Lisa questions him.

"Bart, if you've made that many 'skits,' as I hesitate to call them, for your friend Tracey's podcast all in the past five years, you would've made an average of 139 skits a year!" Lisa proclaims incredulously. Bart barely looks up.

"That sounds about right." He affirms.

"I just- I can't believe you would put your mind to something so consistently."

"Think about it, Lis." Bart finally looks up from his laptop to meet his sister in the eyes. "I've been getting into less trouble, but it's not like I've actually started doing my homework. Where do you think my time goes? Of course I write internet comedy!"

"But the logistics don't make sense! You've been apparently basing them on your own family experiences, but only at the ages we were when you started! How do you explain so many Christmases at 10?"

"Sometimes we do multiple Christmas episodes a year." He shrugs.

"Or characterization! Some of the things we do and say don't make sense for younger children! And I find your amusement in making dad's character increasingly mean and dumb an absurd reduction." Lisa is finding herself increasingly exasperated, but decides to just let it rest. "Listen Bart, the quality's of that show is gonna suffer if you push yourself too hard on it. You said Lewis is doing writing too, why not let him take over for a bit?"

"Lewis and I aren't speaking at the moment. The Dick turned him against me again..." Bart mutters, turning back to the screen.

"It's no wonder, if you keep calling his best friend that!" Lisa cries. "And stop typing already!" She grabs her brothers wrist, who struggles.

"But Richard is too long! Ow, ow, sis! That's my bad wrist!" Bart whines, and the two begin to squabble until Marge storms in.

"QUIT IT!" She shouts, and the two kids immediately stand at attention. "You two are both teenagers now, and I expect better from you. This is going to be the biggest Simpsons family Christmas we've ever held, so I need the both of you to be on your best behavior. That means no shoplifting, no arson-"

Bart begins to protest, but Marge cuts him off.
"-Accidental or otherwise! No focus groups, no abuse of a snow-in, no questioning faith, no going missing, and NO racetracks!"

"Yes mom." They both affirm.

"Also-" Just then, the doorbell rings.

"I got it!" Bart shouts as he knocks over his seat rushing to the door, eager to escape whatever banal rules his mom has planned.

"Oh, it's just Homer." Bart says, disappointed, as Homer comes in the door unwrapping a scarf from his neck. Lisa walks over, looking out the open doorway for someone.

"Hey dad, didn't you say you were going to pick up grandpa?" She asks.

"Yeah, I did, he's right behi- D'oh!" Homer goes to point out the door and flinches when he sees what's outside. In the yard, an increasingly impatient Abe Simpson is trying to hand off three boxes of presents to a snowman, who is stubbornly not putting his sticks together to carry them. Homer quickly rushes out and guides him inside.

"Okay dad, let's get you indoors. And you," Homer pauses briefly once in the doorway to look at the snowman, "don't you know it's rude to trick the elderly? Hmph!" He sticks his nose up and slams the door.

"Grandpa!" Bart and Lisa cheer in unison, happy old Abe survived another Christmas. Behind them is a smiling Marge, who brought Maggie over to say hello. Grandpa Simpsons jumps slightly at the noise and, without returning the greeting, quickly hands the three children their presents.

"Quick, open them now! You'll need them." He warns.

Excitedly, they tear the wrapping paper and card-stock boxes open to reveal old gas masks.

"I bought these little beauties as part of a chem-trail combat special from Herman's. I figured it's about time you kids had something to defend yourselves against chemical warfare."

Bart and Lisa smell something on the wind.

"Alcohol..?" Lisa muses,
"... and cigarettes." Bart mutters. They lock eyes with each other in a knowing look before scrambling to put on their gas masks.

"Help yourself before helping others!" Bart quotes as he tries to run.

"Kids, don't be rude while my sisters are here!" Marge scolds them as she pulls the mask off Bart, snapping him back before he can get to the stairs. Lisa takes of her gas mask sheepishly.

Patty and Selma arrive next, Moe in tow, struggling with a tall stack of food, presents, and the twin's purses. Selma is holding Ling and Patty is holding Jub-Jub. The ladies hug and greet everyone (although acting a bit standoffish towards Homer, which Marge grumbles about) while Moe slowly sets down all of the things on the dining room. Bart decides to mess with him.

"So, Uncle Moe, did you find the guy who's been prank-calling you yet?"

"No, but I'm so close! The other day a call came in for an 'Otto Man,' I didn't fall for it though. Didn't even repeat it back, just told the guy that if I find him, I'm gonna... hehe, well, I'll try to censor myself, it's Christmas." He smiles and shakes his head, Bart just stands there, trying to hold in laughter. Moe stands up.

"Ottoman, yeah right. Hey Homer, you wanna help me take this food to the kitchen?" Homer accepts and helps him lift some coolers.

"Moe, is that beer from the bar?" Homer asks.

"Ew, no, I wouldn't serve that swill to my worst enemy's party. Oh, speaking of the bar, you coming to the New Years event, Homer?" They disappear into the next room. As the camera pans back, Bart turns back to face everyone else, whistling. Lisa marvels at the presents as she puts them under the tree.

"Wow, Aunt Patty, Aunt Selma, you two really got us a lot of presents this year, huh? We're really grateful." Lisa smiles up at them, but Bart puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Careful Lis. Don't make any commitments about how grateful you are until after you open it, otherwise they'll make you use it." Bart says, serious. "You cannot un-use a bleach-based shampoo." Lisa laughs and rolls her eyes.

"I'm sure it can't be that bad." In the background, a hole is burning through the wrapping paper of one of the presents, one is clearly a saucepan wrapped in paper, and one is steadily leaking glitter from a hole near the bottom. There's a knock on the door, and Homer rushes in to answer.

"I got it!" He shouts. In the process, he nearly runs over the cat and he steps on a box, his foot going right though and staying on as he runs over. Moe enters behind him but just leans in the door frame. Homer takes a couple deep breaths then opens the door to reveal Herb Powell.

"Brother!" "Brother!"
They give each other a big bear hug. Selma takes a drag of her cigarette, elbowing her sister gently.
"Oh yeah, the upgraded model." She says.

"It's about time she replaced the old one, anyways." Patty replies. They both chuckle. Marge elbows them both, a bit rougher, and purses her lips.

Herb greets the family warmly. Maggie smiles and gives him a hug, but doesn't respond when he says hello. Herb asks if she's shy, Marge says she still doesn't speak much, but she's very bright in other ways. Homer begrudgingly adds, "We would know exactly what ways if your fancy shmancy device worked..."
"Homer, it's only for baby noises."
"Yeah, well uh... Well played, brother."

The picture pans down to Maggie, who starts walking over to where Ling is, playing with Snowball II in the corner. Ling looks up at her and they nod silently, seriously. Ling stands and they shake hands. They start walking away, hands behind their backs. It seems the two toddlers have some very important business planned.