Ned gave a shave-and-a-haircut knock on the door, and waited nervously. He sighed with relief as he heard footsteps approach the door.

As the door slowly creaked open, it separated from its top hinges, leaning into the right of the doorway and partly blocking the entrance. Both men looked at the door silently as it continued to move in the wind. Ned then looked at Homer whose open robe revealed a pair of boxers and a food stained t-shirt underneath.

Homer had gone through a drastic physical transformation. Because they rarely interacted with each other by that point, the changes were not as apparent to Ned until he finally saw Homer up close. Never the picture of perfect health, Homer now looked haggard and sickly. The gleam he one had in his eyes, the one that lit up his face, even while yelling at Ned or 'borrowing' something from the Flanders' yard, was long gone. His eyes were bloodshot and framed by dark circles. His sparse hair was long and limp and he sported a scruffy beard speckled with gray. He appeared to have lost 30 to 40 pounds, which Ned thought would have been a good thing, had it been the result of a healthy diet. But Ned knew that in the months following Marge's death, Homer had stopped eating meals on a regular basis, opting for liquid sustenance of the fermented kind.

As Ned continued to take in the alarming site of his neighbor, he internally prepared his 'Everything Will be Fine and Dandy' speech, the one he had memorized over the years, and loved to pull out whenever he ran into any of the bitter Betties and doubtful Dan's of the world. It was like a sales pitch to him, and deal closer. He never admitted it out loud, but it made him feel superior, as if he were the only one who could deliver such a nugget of advice. Every time he did, he could picture the Big Man Upstairs giving him the A-OK sign. Still, in the back of his mind, Ned also hoped that he could finally convince himself that he wasn't responsible for the accident.

"Um…" Homer motioned for Ned to enter.

Ned stepped by the broken door and into the darkened hallway of the once bright pink interior. The light had blown out, but Ned could see that the paint was peeling from the walls. The air smelled stale, a combination of alcohol, mildew, and dust.

The two walked silently through the living room, which was covered with beer bottles. Ned kicked his way through the bottles, picking up a few as he moved through the room.

"Homer, I don't want to be a Nosy Nellie, but don't you think all this beer could be just a little…unhealthy?"

"Nonsense, Flanders. I've been drinking for twenty years. I know what I'm doing." Homer pulled an open bottle from the pocket of his robe and took a swig. "Ya know, I once heard about a college kid who keeled over from alcohol poisoning after 2 hours of binge drinking." Homer looked around the room. "I think that's just an urban legend."

The two headed to the kitchen, which was also unkempt. Ned flicked on the light and sat himself at the table. Homer opened the refrigerator and looked around.

"Sorry, I don't have too much to eat. Let's see…a half a package of ramen noodles…baking soda…" He pulled out a Tupperware container filled with a grayish liquid and held it towards Ned.

"Something that used to be string beans."

Ned recoiled. Homer shrugged, put the container back, grabbed two bottles from a cabinet and sat down with Ned.

"You want a beer?"

"No thanks."

"Fine." Homer pulled the second bottle close to him, and opened both. "More for me."

No sir, you're not dying on my watch.

"On second thought, I will take one." That's one less beer closer to liver failure.

Homer slowly pushed the beer back across the table with his index finger, keeping his eyes on Ned.

"So, how's my little girl? You're not making her say 'ding-dang-doodily' are you?"

"Oh, no, she's not saying much of anything yet," Ned chuckled. "But she sure does miss you. So does Lisa. And Bart."

Homer paused mid sip and put down his bottle. He looked at the table.

"I'm a failure, Flanders," he spoke facing the table top. "Here I should be trying to raise them, as the only parent they have, and look at me. I'm just a mess."

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. I know it's difficult when a loved one passes."

"She was more than a 'loved one,'" Homer quickly interrupted. "She's the reason I'm alive. She gave me everything I always wanted; love, affection, a happy family. And now it's all gone."

Ned remained quiet, unsure of how to respond.

"It's my worst nightmare come true." Homer looked up at Ned as if he would solve all of his problems. "Why did this have to happen?"

Ned felt himself beginning to sweat. What do I say? It happened because I'm a forgetful idiot?

"Well, Homer..." He searched his mind for an answer. "I guess the Creator has a bigger plan that we can't see. One that, on the surface, doesn't make a lot of, uh, sense." He flashed a small, sincere smile at Homer.

"Yeah, well it's a pretty terrible plan. What, did 'the Creator' think this would be funny? 'Oh, I'm so bored today on my stupid cloud'," Homer spat with palpable sarcasm and disdain. "'I know. I'll screw over Homer Simpson! That'll be a riot'."

Ned tried to sway Homer's thought process. "Well, I don't think anyone's…picking on you. It's just-"

"Had it been you, that might've been funny," Homer continued nonchalantly.

Ned scoffed. "Now wait a minute! Are you saying that I should be the one grieving?"

"No. That's not what I meant…" Homer gave Ned a silent look of apology.

The two sat quietly drinking their beers. When Ned had finished his, he attempted to restart the conversation.

"I guess it's just a part of life. We all have joys, pains, suffering."

Homer bristled at Ned's comments.

"Oh, what the hell do you know about suffering? Your life is perfect! You own your own business. Your kids are both happy and law abiding. Your wife is…alive and well…" His lip quivered and his voice began to crack. "And as hot as ever."

Ned scooted his chair closer to the table as Homer wiped at his eyes, beer still in hand.

"This may come as a shock, but" Homer leaned in towards Ned, his voice in a hoarse but hushed tone, "I've always been a little jealous of you."

"Oh?" Ned tried his best to feign surprise.

"Yeah. You're always so happy about everything. How do you do it?"

"Well, I guess I live by the motto, 'When life gives you lemons, make lemonade'."

"Mmm, lemonade," Homer blandly replied, his facial expression unchanging. He momentarily contemplated the sweet beverage before coming back to the situation at hand. "That's easy for you to say. Face it. You have lots to live for. My only reason for living is…"

He let out a whimper before downing the rest of his current bottle, and immediately opened another.

"It wasn't supposed to end this way!" he cried, lightly hitting the table with the bottom of his current Duff. "I was supposed to die first. Probably while eating some kind of delicious sandwich. After I died, I'd stick around to watch over the family. Spook them out late at night. Maybe try to scare Patty and Selma into a heart attack. Then one day, Marge would die of old age and we'd be together again. And then we'd turn our home into a total badass haunted house with the help of a crude natured ghost. You know, like in 'Beetle Juice'?"

Hearing Homer speak extensively again, after months of virtual muteness both saddened and relieved Ned, who was strangely entertained by Homer's meandering thoughts. He had hoped that in Homer's words he could find some personal solace, but every word only made Ned more frustrated with the situation.

Homer took five gulps from his bottle and continued. "I guess I never thought about what it would be like if she died before me. I didn't want to think about it. I never wanted anything bad to happen to my family, if I could help it. My life, on the other hand...well, my life's been on the line plenty of times. Like the time I electrocuted myself and fell off my roof while I was putting up the Christmas lights. Or the time I nearly hung myself from the intercity bridge when I was trying to bungee jump with a bunch of old jump ropes tied together. Or when I…well, you get the point."

His eyes lit up as he found a particular memory.

"One time we went to this Japanese place for dinner, and I ate some poison blowfish…"

A small smile crept into the corner of his mouth.

"Hehe, I can't even eat without screwing something up. Doctor Hibbert told me I had one day left to live. So I made this list of all the things I wanted to do with my last day on Earth. I couldn't finish everything, but I did do the last thing, the most important thing on my list, which was to be with Marge." He looked at Ned.

"You know. Intimately." he clarified.

"Right," Ned responded, holding on to Homer's every word as he slowly made his way through his anecdote.

"But it wasn't just sex. That night…it was like we were the only two people in the world. I knew right then that no one could ever love anyone as much as I loved her, and I'd never let anything separate us." The smile spread to the other side of his mouth, though his eyes were filled with water ready to fall.

Ned recalled Homer telling him of his blowfish misadventures in a passing conversation once. He had even laughed about it. This night, however, the story took on a solemn tone.

"So, anyway, it turns out that I didn't die."

Ned nodded.

"And I was happy, but…some days, when life got really tough, I'd think back to that night, and I'd think…maybe dying like that, as close to each other as we could be, would have been alright."

Homer closed his eyes, allowing the tears to roll down his face. A few moments passed before he continued with his thoughts. "Well, maybe not for her. She'd probably be traumatized."

Ned's heart grew heavy again, and in his mind he heard a nagging voice taunting him for his involvement in the tragedy, and the apparent uselessness of Marge's death. Ned looked at Homer as his own vision became blurred with tears.

"Oh, I can't take this anymore," Ned sobbed, removing his glasses. "I've been racked with guilt for months! I'm so sorry…" Ned moved from his seat, pulled at Homer's robe and cried into his t-shirt while Homer looked at him, puzzled.

"How could you have known those dumb kids would break into your car?"

It never occurred to Ned that Homer didn't know that he had left his car ripe for the picking. He gulped.

"I was the one who left the car unlocked that morning. The keys were right there in the ignition. It was an accident; I- I was so wrapped up in my work I just forgot! Please forgive me."

The room fell silent. Ned panicked.

"Or don't." Ned stood up. "Yell at me. Punch me in the face. Strangle me! Just do something!"

Ned flinched and braced himself for an attack. When it didn't come, he sat back in his chair and waited impatiently for Homer to respond. Homer simply stared at Ned, looking even more like a wounded animal. Then he shook his head and finished off his Duff.

"Figures," he sneered, glancing at the floor. "You know, I always had the feeling that God didn't like me. That he was always teasing me like the proverbial fat kid in the junior high of life. And now I know its true." Homer hiccuped then gave Ned a cold stare. "Using his favorite choirboy to help him with his dirty tricks. He's probably laughing at me right now, that evil bastard."

Ned winced.

Homer looked up toward the ceiling at nothing in particular, and raised a clenched fist. "I thought we had a deal! I don't bother you, you don't bother me!" Then he paused, his eyes suddenly filled with sad understanding. His shoulders slumped.

"Maybe I deserve this. After all, you're Mr. Goody-two-shoes, and I've always been kind of a jerk…"

"That's not true!"

"No, it's true. I'm a jerk-"

"Well maybe sometimes," Ned confessed. "But just because something bad happens to you doesn't mean you…deserved it."

Ned suddenly had a small epiphany. His ideas about smooth sailing for good people and punishment for the wicked made less and less sense in his mind. He realized that he knew nothing about the unpredictability of fate, and it frightened him. He clutched at his sweater as his throat tightened.

"And what about your children?" he continued. "They're going to need a strong parent there to guide them through the hard times."

Homer looked at Ned as if he had just delivered the punch line to an odd joke that he didn't understand. "My kids would be way better off without me. They're smart and they still have bright futures. Well, the girls do. Anyway, I'd just weigh them down."

Ned began to worry. "Don't you see? You've got to be brave for them."

"I've tried being brave since the day they were born," Homer responded, with a downward gaze. " Hell, since I was born. Time after time, life kicked me in the crotch, but I always tried to look on the bright side. Drink some lemonade, like you said. But I can't do it anymore. What's the use? Things'll never work out they way I hoped. I'm a loser. The world's fulla losers."

Homer's speech had begun to slur as his meal of alcohol worked its way through his system. Ned continued to listen intently, though he recognized his friend's shifting state.

"They don't need this one anymore," Homer conceded, motioning toward himself and sloshing his beer in the process. His eyes closed again. "I'm sure they'll understand."

Ned widened his eyes in disbelief. "Homer, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying…" He sighed another deep sigh. "I'm just…tired." Homer quickly pushed his chair back from the table and stood up, startling Ned.

"Look, thanks for stopping by and helping me figure out how much life sucks, but I think I'm gonna turn in early."

Ned looked at the wall clock. "But it's not even 6 yet, and-" Ned turned to see Homer had already left the kitchen and was lying on the couch. Now alone, he took the opportunity to survey the kitchen for any sharp and potentially dangerous objects. He then made his way through the sea of bottles back to the front door. He turned and looked at Homer.

"If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm right next door." He gave another warm smile, though his heart ached.

"Okay," Homer responded flatly, sliding into a stupor of emotional fatigue and increasing inebriation. He stared towards the turned off television set. "Goodbye, Ned."

"Goodnight, Homer." Ned looked at Homer for a few more seconds before backing quietly out the front door. He gently lifted the door up off the bottom hinge in order to close it.

The sky was now pitch black. The wind howled violently around him as he headed back to his house. A growing sense of dread filled his body, as if he knew more disaster was to come.

Why is this happening? What does it all mean? There's only one man who can help me now...

...

Ned tapped his fingers against his coffee table as he waited for Reverend Lovejoy to pick up the phone. He had called several times in two hours, but no one answered. Suddenly Ned heard the click of the receiver.

"Yes, Ned." The voice drably responded.

"Ah, you've got caller ID now, Reverend?"

"Who else would be calling me on my office phone after 8pm on a weeknight?"

I assumed a man of the cloth never sleeps. "Well, Reverend, I've been thinking about the accident..."

"Ned, please, not tonight," the reverend groaned. "We've been over this a thousand times. You're not evil. You were never possessed by the Devil. Satan is not your 'home-boy.' Et cetera, et cetera."

"I know, Reverend. I think I've finally accepted that. But now I have a bigger problem. I've realized that, well, I don't know everything."

"My, what a breakthrough."

Ned ignored the reverend's apathetic tone. "What I mean is, I can't find an answer for everything that happens, not even in the Bible." He quickly reevaluated his words silently, afraid of what they could mean.

"We're good, righteous, religious people," he continued. "We love whom we're supposed to love, condemn who we're supposed to condemn. We've done everything right, and the Simpsons…" He stopped mid-thought. "No! A decent man and his children are devastated, and for what? It can't be a punishment…can it? I mean, surely a god of love and kindness wouldn't do something like that to one of his children, right?"

Reverend Lovejoy did not immediately respond.

"Hello? Reverend, are you there?"

"Um, Ned, this isn't really my area of expertise. I'm more of a cut-and-dry facilitator, here to hand out easy, uncomplicated answers. What you're asking is beyond most men's comprehension. Even holy men."

Ned's face fell. "Then what do I do?"

"I suggest you…er, read one some Psalms."

"Which one?"

"Oh, I don't know, there are hundreds of them. Close your eyes and pick one. You can't go wrong"

"Well, all right. Thank you, Reverend." Ned hung up the phone, and reached for the nearest Bible. He turned to the Book of Psalms, closed his eyes, and ran his finger down a page. He slowly opened one eye to see what he had found. He read the passage partially covered by his index finger.

'God, don't be far from me. My God, hurry to help me.' Ned sighed. Well, yes, that's the question, but what's the answer? He closed his eyes and searched again. He opened his eyes and looked at the words under his finger.

'God will likewise destroy you forever.'

Frustrated, he closed the book and headed upstairs.

Ned sat down on his bed where Maude had been reading. She looked up from her book and smiled lovingly.

"I heard you talking to Reverend Lovejoy. I think you're right." She then turned back to her book.

"Thank you, Maude. That means a lot." Ned leaned his lead into Maude's as he stroked her hair.

"But what about us?" he pondered aloud.

The question loomed around them.

"What if one day…some storm cloud were to rain on the Flanders family?"

"You're a strong man, Neddy. I know that whatever comes our way, we'll manage, just like we've done for all these years." Maude placed both her hands on either side of her husband's face, and they looked into each other's eyes, just as they had done that fateful day in the park. She kissed him, and they both laid their heads down to sleep. He wrestled with altering thoughts of peace and dread, until he finally dozed off.

Ned was jolted from his sleep by a loud bang. His heart raced as he leapt from his bed and headed downstairs to his front door, moving so fast, and so suddenly, he felt as if the walls were spinning around him. He ran outside barefoot, shouting Homer's name as he headed to his house.

"Homer, please say you didn't do it!"

"Yeah, I did it, alright," a voice answered from the darkness.

Ned froze in his tracks as he found Homer outside. He was bent over, picking up an object.

"Lousy, no good infomercial…" Homer stood over a metal garbage can with a large container in his hands. "'Miracle fat-burner' my ass!" He then threw the container down into the can in disgust, producing another large banging sound. A man from a few houses away shouted from his window.

"You idiot! It's 3 in the morning!"

"Go to hell," Homer shouted back. " I pay my taxes!" He spotted Ned standing a few feet away. "Hey, Flanders. You're up late."

Ned was dumbstruck. Poor, sickly Homer seemed to have made a full recovery. His round face and rounder belly were apparent, even in the darkened night. "What's going on out here? Are you okay?"

Homer grumbled. "I'd be better if I'd never bought this stupid, rip off, Nofatrin. The guy on TV said he took it and lost 30 pounds in a month. I've had this stuff for two days, and I gained 10 pounds!" Homer picked up another container and slammed it into the can.

"Homer! Do you have to do that now?" called a familiar voice from a distance.

Ned watched in amazement as a woman with tall hair walked from the Simpson house in her bathrobe. He rubbed his eyes.

"Marge?"

Marge looked at Ned, slightly embarrassed. "Hi, Ned. I hope we didn't wake you." She turned to her husband. "Come on, you can throw the rest of these containers away tomorrow. You'll wake up the whole town with this racket."

"I'm sorry Marge," Homer responded sheepishly. "I just couldn't stand to look at this stuff for another minute." Homer looked down at the large bag full of 2-gallon containers of Nofatrin that he had dragged from his house. "Twenty-five jars. Oh! Marge, why don't you ever stop me from my impulse buying?" he whined.

Marge sighed and took Homer's arm.

As they began to make their way back inside, Homer stopped and turned to look at Ned.

"Funny I should see you tonight. I had a dream about you, but I can't remember what it was about."

A dream.

Ned, now fully awake, Ned slowly realized that all that had happened over several months was but a figment of his imagination.

Or was it a sign, he wondered. Could Homer and I have received some type of divine inspiration tonight?

"Oh, now I remember," Homer concluded. My barbecue grill exploded and went right through your kitchen window. Then your whole house blew up. You should'a seen the look on your face!" Homer let out a hearty laugh as more annoyed neighbors began to yell.

"Shut up!" he bellowed into the night.

Marge pulled Homer by the arm and led him quickly into the house. Ned could hear them talking as he headed back to his own home.

"Three hundred bucks down the drain on a diet pill scam. It's just not fair."

"I know, Homey."

...

Ned quietly closed his front door and walked slowly up the stairs to his bedroom, trying to put off the reality that he knew awaited. He cracked the door to his sons' room and lovingly watched them as they slept. After a while, he went back into his own room, lit only by pale moonlight. The light reflected onto his empty bed. He was stung momentarily. Ned fluffed the pillows and looked at them. He sat for a time, reflecting on all that had happened, before lying back down. Before he fell asleep, he looked skyward, with clasped hands, beyond the bedroom's walls.

"Well, it wasn't the answer I was looking for, but I'll take it."

...

...

...

credits

A Reversal of Fortune

First published under pen name "Mindy Simmons" on 4/11/08

The story contains lyrics from the song "Let's Go Crazy" by Prince (Copyright 1984, published by Warner Bros. Records)

"The Simpsons" and all related characters are registered trademarks and are owned by 20th Century Fox.

This is an original story that references the Simpsons episodes "Alone Again, Natura-Diddly" and "One Fish, Two Fish, Blow Fish Blue Fish." There are also allusions to the episodes "Hurricane Neddy," "The Springfield Connection," and "Home Sweet Homediddly-Dum-Doodily." "Alone Again..." is the only one that is important to the narrative, though a plot point from "Blowfish" is recounted toward the end. Only one line of dialog is lifted from a Simpsons episode: "Alone Again..." ("Not so much for the speed, but for all that great safety gear!" ) All other dialogue, though inspired by the series, is the creation of the author.

Copyright 2008-09, JP aka Mindy Simmons