CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
(Marge comes into the lounge Homer is lying on the couch.)
Marge: Homer, what the fuck are you doing here.
Homer: Just need to sleep, Marge.
(He rolls over so he isn't facing her. She grabs him and tries to pull him off the couch. He's too fat.)
Marge: You don't fucking live here anymore, Homer! We're divorced! I don't want to see your fat ass ever again! GET OUT.
Homer: *snooze*
(She scratches and clawas at his flabby back.)
Homer: Oww! Snowball 2 is scratching me!
Marge: Snowball 2 is DEAD. You ran her over when you were drunk. THe day you hit Bart.
Homer: Oh yea. D'oh.
Marge: You broke his nose, Homer. He was twelve. YOU FUCKING MONSTER. That's why we got divorced.
Homer: I never hit you though. Or Lisa, or the other one! I'd never hit a girl.
Marge: You killed Patty and Selma, Homer. My sisters!
Homer: That...was an accident...Wiggum never proved anything...I mean, I didn't do it so he couldn't have...
Marge: I know you fucking did it, Homer. GET OUT.
Homer: I want to see the kids.
Marge: Bart is eighteen now, he lives with his fucking junkie girlfriend. Lisa wants nothing to do with you. And Maggie...
Homer: Oh yeah, that's her name.
Marge: She hates you too. SO GET OUT.
Homer: I'm...I'm dying, Marge.
Marge: What.
Homer: I have rectal cancer. I don't have long left.
(Marge doesn't react.)
Homer: Marge?
Marge: Well it's not a surprise with all the shit you eat.
Homer: I want to make things right...with the kids.
Marge: It's too late. It's too fucking late.
Homer: Is it because of Moe?
Marge: I broke up with Moe two years ago, you fat fuck! He killed himself after, remember? You threw up at the funeral?
Homer: Hehehe, oh yeah. I got the last laugh there.
Marge: Nothing about this is funny. I went from one type of abusive relationship to another. I'm glad Moe is dead and I'll be even happier when you join him in Hell.
(Homer rolls off the couch. He tries to get to his feet but can't. He begins from his knees.)
Homer: Marge, please, I'll do anything.
Marge: Why don't you kill yourself like Moe did? It was the only thing he ever did right.
Homer: I...I don't want to die Marge.
(Santa's Little Helper comes in. He starts barking angrily at Homer.)
Homer: Hehe, how you doing, old boy?
(The dog starts to maul Homer.)
Homer: No, no...argh!
Marge: Good doggie.
(Satan appears.)
Satan: OOOOOH, A DARK TWISTED SIMPSONS PARODY WHERE HOMER IS A CANCER-RIDDEN ABUSER, HOW FUCKING EDGY, WHAT WILL YOU THINK OF NEXT, WACKY, A FUCKING FRESH PRINCE PARODY WHERE UNCLE PHIL MOLESTS WILL?
Homer: Satan...help me...
Satan: Cunt.
(Satan snaps his fingers and Homer burns to death.)
Marge: Thanks, Satan.
(Satan transforms into buff Ned Flanders.)
Ned: Okayily, dockily, doo!
(The starts frantically making out, then beging rolling on the floor, grabbing each other like animals on Homer's ashes. Maggie walks in. She is eleven years old.)
Maggie: Did dad come by? I'd like to see him again...what the heck?!
Marge: Fuck off Maggie. I wish we'd never had you.
(Maggie runs out into the street crying. Mr Burns runs her over.)
Burns: Smithers, did I just hit a child?
Smithers: You did, sir.
Burns: Excellent!
THE END
Marge: Homer, what the fuck are you doing here.
Homer: Just need to sleep, Marge.
(He rolls over so he isn't facing her. She grabs him and tries to pull him off the couch. He's too fat.)
Marge: You don't fucking live here anymore, Homer! We're divorced! I don't want to see your fat ass ever again! GET OUT.
Homer: *snooze*
(She scratches and clawas at his flabby back.)
Homer: Oww! Snowball 2 is scratching me!
Marge: Snowball 2 is DEAD. You ran her over when you were drunk. THe day you hit Bart.
Homer: Oh yea. D'oh.
Marge: You broke his nose, Homer. He was twelve. YOU FUCKING MONSTER. That's why we got divorced.
Homer: I never hit you though. Or Lisa, or the other one! I'd never hit a girl.
Marge: You killed Patty and Selma, Homer. My sisters!
Homer: That...was an accident...Wiggum never proved anything...I mean, I didn't do it so he couldn't have...
Marge: I know you fucking did it, Homer. GET OUT.
Homer: I want to see the kids.
Marge: Bart is eighteen now, he lives with his fucking junkie girlfriend. Lisa wants nothing to do with you. And Maggie...
Homer: Oh yeah, that's her name.
Marge: She hates you too. SO GET OUT.
Homer: I'm...I'm dying, Marge.
Marge: What.
Homer: I have rectal cancer. I don't have long left.
(Marge doesn't react.)
Homer: Marge?
Marge: Well it's not a surprise with all the shit you eat.
Homer: I want to make things right...with the kids.
Marge: It's too late. It's too fucking late.
Homer: Is it because of Moe?
Marge: I broke up with Moe two years ago, you fat fuck! He killed himself after, remember? You threw up at the funeral?
Homer: Hehehe, oh yeah. I got the last laugh there.
Marge: Nothing about this is funny. I went from one type of abusive relationship to another. I'm glad Moe is dead and I'll be even happier when you join him in Hell.
(Homer rolls off the couch. He tries to get to his feet but can't. He begins from his knees.)
Homer: Marge, please, I'll do anything.
Marge: Why don't you kill yourself like Moe did? It was the only thing he ever did right.
Homer: I...I don't want to die Marge.
(Santa's Little Helper comes in. He starts barking angrily at Homer.)
Homer: Hehe, how you doing, old boy?
(The dog starts to maul Homer.)
Homer: No, no...argh!
Marge: Good doggie.
(Satan appears.)
Satan: OOOOOH, A DARK TWISTED SIMPSONS PARODY WHERE HOMER IS A CANCER-RIDDEN ABUSER, HOW FUCKING EDGY, WHAT WILL YOU THINK OF NEXT, WACKY, A FUCKING FRESH PRINCE PARODY WHERE UNCLE PHIL MOLESTS WILL?
Homer: Satan...help me...
Satan: Cunt.
(Satan snaps his fingers and Homer burns to death.)
Marge: Thanks, Satan.
(Satan transforms into buff Ned Flanders.)
Ned: Okayily, dockily, doo!
(The starts frantically making out, then beging rolling on the floor, grabbing each other like animals on Homer's ashes. Maggie walks in. She is eleven years old.)
Maggie: Did dad come by? I'd like to see him again...what the heck?!
Marge: Fuck off Maggie. I wish we'd never had you.
(Maggie runs out into the street crying. Mr Burns runs her over.)
Burns: Smithers, did I just hit a child?
Smithers: You did, sir.
Burns: Excellent!
THE END