With each word he read of the article on the web site which he was currently studying on his home computer, the look of revulsion on Waylon Smithers' face grew more intense. He began to shake his head at disbelief.

"Good Lord," Waylon said to himself,"how can I be a party to this? My God, the things that it says on these web sites about what Birch Barlow and all his bigoted friends have been advocating doing to people with lifestyles like mine!! Oh, but how can I go against Mr. Burns? He's like a frail, wounded bird that you want to nurse back to health and the bad boy you think you can tame rolled into one." A smile crossed the face of Waylon Smithers at the thought of Mr. Burns and then disappeared a second later when his mind drifted back to the depressing material which he had been reading.

"Oh," Waylon Smithers' moaned,"what am I going to do? I just don't...Hey, what on earth was that?" Waylon had heard a sudden crunching sound followed by a loud yell. He turned and saw Sideshow Bob standing against one of the walls of Mr. Smithers' apartment rubbing one of his massive feet. It seemed that Bob had injured his foot by accidentally stepping on a Malibu Stacy doll that Mr. Smithers' had left on the floor and breaking it.

"Blast it," Sideshow Bob snapped,"I mean, honestly, what kind of grown man leaves dolls lying around his apartment?"

"Mr. Terwiliger," Waylon said nervously,"what a surprise!"

"Hello Waylon," Bob said with a grin that looked as though it belonged on a crocodile that has come across a particularly tasty morsel instead of on a tall human with giant feet and rather absurd-looking dreadlocks. Bob stopped rubbing his hurt foot and began walking towards Waylon in a manner that was calm, yet vaguely threatening.

"W-what can I do for you, Mr. Terwiliger?," Waylon stammered.

"Ah, Waylon," Bob said cheerfully," it is not what you can do for me but rather what I can do for you." Waylon Smithers looked at Bob quizzically but said nothing.

"You see," Bob continued,"your little dilemma is quite clear to me. Obviously, you wish to continue going along with whatever your precious 'Mr. Burns' says but you also wish to avoid betraying your, ahem, fellow deviants. I've come here tonight to resolve that little dilemma of yours for you, Waylon."

"Really," Waylon asked in such a way that made it seem that he was about to jump up and down in excitement,"you mean you'll change the platform that you're running on so that it isn't so bigoted and hateful?

"What?," Sideshow Bob asked in confusion,"Why, no! No, certainly not. You see, Waylon, I intend to help resolve that for you by taking the choice which has been clearly tormenting you so very much right out of your hands. Yes, and it seems to me that the most obvious way to do that would, of course, be to murder you. I am ever s, Waylon, but I've decided that we can't risk you choosing your lifestyle over your party." As he said this, Sideshow Bob took a syringe from his pocket and stuck it into the arm of Waylon Smithers. Mr. Smithers collapsed to the ground as the syringe made its lethal toxins spread all throughout his bloodstream.

"Hmm," Sideshow Bob reflected,"that was the first time I actually killed someone. I'm a murderer now and no longer a mere attempted murderer. Strange, it all feels rather anti-climatic. Perhaps it just hasn't set in yet. Perhaps the problem is that it wasn't that accursed Simpson boy that I murdered tonight or that expediency forced me to dispense with the grand theatrics and elaborate plots that every good murderer should employ. Hmm, I know not. It appears that this matter requires a great deal more thought.

Several days later, Bart was walking to the Kwik-E-Mart when a long black limousine pulled up beside him. Two large men in expensive suits quickly got out and dragged him into the back of the limo before he had time to escape. Bart saw that Sideshow Bob was on the seat across from his. This did not surprise Bart as he had been expecting an encounter such as this one for quite some time now. What did surprise Bart was how afraid he was. Bart had survived the machinations of Bob so many times that he had come to regard Bob as more of a comic figure who posed no real threat.

"Hello Bart," Bob said in his usual tone of voice that managed to sound both eerie and menacing as well as cultured and refined.

"Hiya Bob," Bart said with false bravado to hide how frightened he was,"How's it goin', man???"

"It's Mayor Terwiliger now, Bart,"Bob said cheerfully,"but I'll gladly forgive your breach of proper decorum. I am ever so sorry if my associates were unduly rough with your personage but I felt that it was simply imperative that we converse. You see, Bart, I wish to share with you an epiphany I had."

"Wha'," said Bart as he stared at Bob in confusion.

"Recent events have made clear to me," Bob continued,"why I've spent so long as an "attempted murderer" and found myself unable to succeed in my efforts to kill you. You see, I've realized that the problem is the fact that murder is so far beneath me. Oh, any Johnny Switchblade or Suzy Handgun can do away with some poor soul that's managed to get on their nerves for some inane reason. While that may be good enough for the average yokel, it is somewhat unseemly for a gentleman of my class and breeding to dirty their hands with such crude and vulgar pursuits. At this point in time, Bartholomew J. Simpson, I will now inform you that I intend to cease all attempts at murdering you."

"Right," Bart said sarcastically,"so now you and me are gonna be best buds, huh? Maybe we'll hang out at the arcade and stuff?"

"Oh no," Bob replied,"quite the contrary. I may no longer be planning to murder you, but I still fully intend to destroy you, Bart Simpson." Bob then grinned in a manner which was reminiscent of a cat that has cornered a mouse and started laughing maniacally. A moment later, Bob gave the signal to his associates. The car then slowed down and one of Bob's associates pushed Bart out of the car. Bart stood staring at the limousine as it drove away and continued staring in that direction long after the limo was out of site. Bart told himself not to cry but nonetheless ended up crying a great deal.

Bart often found himself going over that moment in the months and years ahead. Although he didn't see Bob after that, it often seemed as though Bob was always around. Almost every night, Bart lie awake as visions of Bob's grinning face haunted him. Bart thus spent his days weary from being unable to rest. It didn't take long for Bart's personality to change drastically. He began constantly looking over his shoulder to see if Bob was lurking there. Bart endlessly speculated about what form Bob's destruction of him would take and when it would arrive. It soon seemed that he was unable to manage accomplishing nothing else. Although he wasn't able to determine how much of it Bob was responsible for, Bart's life definitely went into a downward spiral that started around the time of his last encounter with Bob.

When the Simpson home was sold to make room for the Matlock expressway, the Simpsons experienced a great deal of difficulty finding another place to live. They were unable to afford another house and the landlords refused to rent to them for one reason or another every time they tried to rent an apartment. The Simpsons ended up moving in with Marge's sisters. That arrangement worked as poorly as anyone familiar with the relationship which Homer and Marge's sisters shared would expect.

A few months after the Simpsons moved in with Marge's sisters, Mr.Burns died of a heart attack. Lenny was put in charge of the plant and he gave Carl a promotion. Both of them immediately stopped interacting with Homer and, when Barney Gumbel died a few weeks later from the ravages which his alcoholism had inflicted on his system and Moe's was shut down by health inspectors, Homer found himself without friends. He also found himself without a job a few months later when Lenny fired Homer for incompetence. The only job that Homer managed to get was one working at the DMV with Marge's sisters as his new bosses.

The strain that this arrangement put on Homer and Marge's already troubled marriage proved to be too much and they divorced. Marge was awarded custody of both Maggie and Lisa and the two of them stayed with Marge's sisters in their apartment. Homer got custody of Bart. The two of them stayed in a filthy apartment in a rather dangerous part of Springfield.

Several years after that, Marge was caught shoplifting and arrested. She claimed that it was an accident. Marge insisted that she had meant to pay for the items but forgot to do so because of stress. The jury, however, wouldn't listen and the judge passed down a harsher sentence because it was Marge's second offence. Shortly after this happened, Homer died of a combination of poor health and the stress of recent events. One of Marge's sisters was arrested at a political march and slandered by the sensationalist media that implied she was some sort of horrible pervert and she left town in disgrace. Marge's other sister then committed suicide after she was fired from her job at the DMV when she was implicated in some office scandal and thought to be incompetent.

Lisa was off putting herself through college at the point in time and had very little contact with the rest of her family. Abraham "Grandpa" Simpson had died a few years earlier after a long and painful struggle with a debilitating illness. Bart was thus awarded custody of Maggie. Maggie had developed into a wild little hellion who was very similar to the person that Bart had been several years earlier. Dealing with all the trouble that Maggie got into caused Bart no end of grief. The problem was exacerbated by the long hours that Bart had to work. Bart was only able to find work as a janitor at the Springfield Mall and he had to work long hours for low pay to earn enough money to just barely support him and his sister.

Bart spent much of his time wondering how much of the troubles he had experienced over the years were the work of Sideshow Bob. Bart often thought he saw Bob standing nearby in the back of a crowd but it never seemed to actually be him. Every time something horrible happened to him, Bart could help wondering whether Bob had used his considerable influence to cause it. Similarly, Bart found that he was always on edge because he was constantly wondering whether or not Bob was about to put into motion some elaborate scheme to ruin his life. Sometimes Bart wondered if maybe Bob had perhaps never actually done anything to ruin his life at all and he was worried about Sideshow Bob for no reason. It sometimes seemed as though that thought hurt most of all.

Sixteen years after Sideshow Bob won his first mayoral election, Bart was on his way home from work. It had been a particularly tense day and there were many tedious jobs that he had to complete before going home. The hardest part of the job for Bart was the way that cleaning up the graffiti made by rebellious children and the numerous other tasks of that nature which he was asked to perform reminded Bart of the carefree youth he had been before all his troubles started.

"Hmm," Bart thought as he neared the door to his apartment,"that's odd. It's so quiet. Maggie's usually blasting that damn music of hers. Aw, I hope she isn't passed out drunk on the couch again." When Bart entered the apartment, however, he saw that Maggie wasn't passed out on the sofa. He didn't see her at all. Bart found himself alone in their shabby apartment. The blinking light on the answering machine caught his attention and he saw that there was one new message.

"Yeah," the answering machine said when Bart pushed the play button,"hello there, Mr. Simpson. This is Lou down at the station. I'm afraid that your sister, Maggie, and a few of her friends were allegedly involved in a robbery over at the Kwik-E-Mart earlier today. Shots were fired and Apu was killed. Your sister's being held without bail at the Springfield Women's Penitentiary."

Bart then felt extremely overwhelmed and collapsed onto the couch. Seconds after he did so, someone began knocking on the door. Bart considered ignoring it but the knock was so loud and insistent that it seemed pointless to do so. He opened the door and saw his landlord standing there before him.

"Mr. Simpson," the landlord said in a voice which seemed utterly devoid of emotion,"your rent was due three days ago. You've been late with your rent too many times now and I'm afraid that we're going to have to evict you. You have 48 hours to remove your belongings and vacate the premises."

"Okay sir," Bart managed to mumble before he shut the door. He started back towards the couch. Bart wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch and try to empty all thoughts out of his mind. Fate, however, seemed to have other plans because someone started to knock on the door again before Bart could get very far. Without giving the matter a thought, Bart turned and opened the door. He very nearly passed out when he saw Sideshow Bob standing in the doorway in front of him.

"Greetings," Bob said regally,"My name is Robert Terwiliger and I'm going door to door to greet my constituents in person. Can I count on your vote next November?" Bob's face then broke out into a broad grin as he took a few steps forward and closed the door behind him. There was some gray in Bob's signature dreadlocks and the suit which he currently wore looked as though it cost more than Bart would make in several years but otherwise Bob looked much the same as he had when Bart last saw him. It made sense that Bob would be able to dress much better than he had been back when Bart encountered him last. The years which had passed since then were good to Bob. He had been elected mayor a second time and then had successfully run for governor of the state that Springfield is in several times. Many people said that Bob seemed poised to be the next president.

"You," Bart shouted angrily,"you!!! What have you done to me? Why? You've ruined my life!!! What have you done to me??"

"Why," Sideshow Bob said with mock innocence,"I assure you that I know not of what you speak!! Me? Ruin your life? Why, that's simply preposterous!!"

"Why," Bart asked desperately,"didn't you just kill me?"

"Hmm," Bob said while stroking his chin in a way that was meant to jokingly suggest he was seriously pondering the question,"now there's an intriguing thought. Perhaps I would do so if you begged me to."

"Please," Bart said,"please!!! Just end it all!! I beg of you!! You win, Bob. Please, oh please!!! Just kill me."

"No," Bob said cheerfully,"No, I don't believe I shall. Frightfully sorry. However, we might be able to arrive at a compromise." Bob then reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a small vial and took the top of it.

"Within this vial," Bob explained with glee,"there is a highly potent poison. It is, naturally, completely untraceable and will not be connected to me in any way. You are free to drink it and end your wretched life if you so choose." With no hesitation whatsoever, Bart snatched the vial from Bob's hands and gulped down its contents. Bart then abruptly dropped to the floor. He writhed in pain for a few minutes before ultimately succumbing to the poison and dying. Bob savored the moment briefly before gathering up the vial and strolling out the door.