This story is rated PG.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Simpsons. If I did I'd be as rich as Paris Hilton, better looking, and fifty times as smart.

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"Hey, Milhouse," Bart whispered. "Look at this cool web site I found."

In the Springfield Public Library, Milhouse took a seat next to his friend in front of a public computer. "What is it, Bart?" he asked.

"It's called funfiction-dot-net," was Bart's answer. "It lets you write stories, and read stories written by other people. You can even tell them what you think of their stories."

"Sounds cool," said Milhouse. "Did you write a story?"

"Nah. But I found some really neat stories about Radioactive Man. Here's one where he and Fallout Boy are gay. And another where he switches bodies with Larva Girl. And another where he goes on and on about how miserable his life is and how he wants to kill himself."

"Can I read them?" asked Milhouse.

"Not yet," said Bart. "First I want to finish reviewing them."

As Milhouse watched, Bart carefully typed in his response to one of the funfiction-dot-net entries: "Your story sucks. You suck. You write crap. You are stupid. You are a loser. Your underwear stinks. You need to get a life."

"I thought you liked it," said Milhouse.

"I did," Bart admitted.

"Then why are you writing bad things about it?"

"I dunno," said Bart. "I do what I feel like."

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THE END