The Simpsons: Bart

Full story at:

patreon.com/FanFictionPremium

***

No matter how much I tried to hide, it couldn't go on forever. One night when I went into the kitchen to get food, there was an angry mother waiting for me.

She had no interest in talking to me about anything other than school. And that I had to finish school and graduate no matter what.

I had nothing to do, so I agreed to resume my approaches to school. After that, my mum told me to cut the crap and go back to the house. Which I did without confidence.

It was unusual to sleep in my own bed again. It was supposed to be more comfortable than a bed on wooden blocks, but in reality..... I fidgeted all night.

.....

- Bastard...

- Rapist.

When I got back to school, I was met with angry looks and whispers. Naturally my locker was painted with different wishes and my desk was set aside in the corner of the classroom.

- Haa... - I didn't have any desire to put it back, because I didn't want to sit back with my neighbours.

- So why is someone sitting separately...? - asked the teacher as he entered the classroom. - Ah, Simpson. - But when he saw that I had been seated, his gaze became sterner and he turned a blind eye.

The lesson was surprisingly quiet, in fact, I felt like a ghost, because no one paid attention to me.

But after the bell rang, the whispers and stares resumed. Several times they even tripped me up. I continued to give the descent, realising perfectly well that in my position I do not need unnecessary trouble. And most importantly, no matter who would be the instigator, I would still be the guilty party.

However, to my surprise, this attitude towards me was not limited only to the students, no, even the school staff tried to get back at me. Some teachers recommended me to change school, the cooks put only side dishes, and the headmistress openly said that she only needed an excuse to expel me.

- And they used to carry me around on their backs.

I ended up spending most of my breaks in places where I could be alone. And it didn't matter if it was a toilet cubicle, the shadow of a staircase at the stadium or the roof of a gym....

No, I don't like the roof. It's where I sometimes get bad thoughts in my head.

- Hey, punk, there you are. - one day, I was discovered.

- You jerk who thinks you're a hentai hero!

- You thought you could do anything since you're Mr Popular?!

That day, I was beaten up. I let them beat me up. I don't know why. I guess I didn't want to get expelled. Even if it didn't make much sense...

After the national team, I got rejected from college. My whole bright, cloudless future came crashing down to the ground, right into the dirt.

After the first beating, I became a victim of bullying. Sometimes I was just beaten up, sometimes I was doused with dirty water, sometimes they put something in my locker, something unpleasant or simply disgusting. It was naturally up to me to clean up, for the cleaners refused to do it for me.

That's not to say I didn't try to fight it. I made an attempt. I went to the school counsellor, whose job it is to help students when things go wrong and guide them down the right path. The school counselor cancelled the appointment. After the cancellation was repeated several times I took the hint.

- Often people say that morality is a social construct, even though there are many things we can all call wrong or right. What is really a social construct is justice. After all, society can easily deny a person the right to be treated fairly while still finding a moral justification for it.

- Sit down, Bart, two.

- May I ask why?

- Because you're wrong.

- You ask. But I don't understand what?

- A second 'D' for arguing with the teacher.

Eventually, I started to give up on my studies, because my grades couldn't get above a C. And I couldn't believe that the school would want to put up with me for another year.

And when I started skipping school.

- Bart, we need that percentage of attendance, okay? - the headmistress confirmed my thoughts about my ineffective time inside the school walls.

They say rumours live on for 90 days. As funny as that sounds, they don't say they die. Because no, after ninety days, people just reconcile, but you're still stigmatised.

So after three months, I just stopped being stalked and egged in the street. The slanted stares, the insults and the whispers never went away.

- Although I do look like a rapist....

Aside from the fact that I wear a hoodie or other hooded clothing most of the time, I've gone out of my way to look after myself. I overgrew my hair, grew a so-so beard, and lost my abs. In the end I had no desire, no energy, no goal, and not even a place to train.

It's funny to say, but I can't say I'm not happy. No. The days just got grey for me. I just don't feel anything anymore.

- Hmmm... How nice, they're willing to sacrifice themselves for the power of friendship.... - except now I'm more easily moved to tears. Good thing I don't have anyone to watch anything with. The benefits of being alone!

I can't go to the gym anymore, and at home my presence makes the whole family's mood plummet. I try to hang out at abandoned sites, under bridges, at the very least in a tree house. Places where I'll be alone.

- You want me to send you to heaven for 20 quid? - I was offered a blow job or drugs by a nearly toothless hobo.

It's true that places aren't always deserted, so I have to get out of there fast. It's especially embarrassing when you're offered services in your tree house.

If my life were a web novel, I would definitely under a bridge or on a derelict, I would have met a beautiful informal girl, who would not care what others say and would want to be my friend. And would end up helping me overcome everything and we would fall in love with each other. It's a shame, but life is not a web novel and you have to overcome it all alone.

By the way, lately I've been hooked on web novels and fanfics, for there was nothing else to do. However, my tastes have shifted from 'serious' or content-filled works to fluffy and serene ones. Reading them made me feel like I could breathe again.

Do I sound pathetic? I know I do.

Especially in light of who I was just three months ago.

Sometimes I think about going out with Sherry to-- And that's where the problem comes in. Because to do what? Ask her to confess that it wasn't really like that? Yell? Threaten? Beg?

How stupid do you have to be to think any of those things would work? I don't have any leverage with Sherry except knowing the truth...

Going to Terry for help? After everything that's happened between us? I think she's just happy to see my life go down the same road.

And anyway, even if the truth goes public, so what? The headlines have been written, the stigma's been branded, the invitations have been taken back. All I'll be owed is an apology, which-- Oh, how helpful. And a monetary compensation, which, given the legal fees, is hardly impressive. Especially since I doubt my family can afford a lawyer for me.

So I'm in a situation where I'm a loser no matter what I do.

What's not a good excuse not to do anything at all, huh?

- Psst, kid, you want to make some money? - I was approached under the dock again.

- I'm sorry, mate, but I'm not one of those. - Due to the guy being somewhere around my age and looking tidy for places like this, I still replied before walking away.

- Ha ha ha, neither am I! Listen, comedian. It's okay if I call you Humourist, isn't it? I think it's fine. - The previously normal-speaking guy sped up his speech so much that you could barely hear the end of some words and the beginning of others. - It's a simple job, and it pays a lot. I just need to drop some stuff off and leave some stuff somewhere....

- Drugs? - a little surprised at the offer, I blurted out.

- Shh, shh! Come on, be quiet! It's nothing serious, it's just a little relaxing, don't worry. - Yeah, I'm sure that'll work for the police.

- Look, man, it's not that I'm against what you're doing. - at least I'm not gonna say it out loud. - It's just it's not for me and--

- For you, for you, I can see that. Look, you don't hang around here for the good life, do you? I'm sure you've got domestic problems at home. School's a struggle and nothing's going right. Girls don't give you any, if they don't look at you like dirt. Friend, mate, I'm offering you a way out, a solution to all these problems. I want to help you get some dough, real dough, you know? And with money, you'll get a flat, you won't need school, and girls will fall for you. You'll choose whether their arseholes are big enough and whether their tits are big enough!

- Sounds like fun, but...

- Oh, don't sweat it. I'm trying to do you a favour, not force you to do something. And think about it, Humourist, what country do we live in? One where Elon Musk can smoke pot on his podcast and nobody cares. So who has the right to judge you for pushing dope much weaker than what is being dabbled in Hollywood or Washington DC in all the famous places, by all the famous people?

- I-I-I... Well.

- Humourist, try it once and you'll understand. It won't be one thing at a time, I promise you.

While I was fumbling and confused by the words of the guy in the hoodie, he handed me a bag with the address and went quickly away before I could even realise.

- What am I supposed to do with this? - throw it away? I don't want to get a trumpet to the head for someone else's unreceived high....

With sweat pouring down my forehead and my heart pounding, I carried the bag back to my place. On the way I thought about going to the cops and telling them everything, but then I realised that was the best way to go to jail myself.

Who's gonna believe my story? Or want to look into it? When here I am, warm and holding out evidence?

As soon as I left my seat, I felt a great disappointment in myself and the fact that the excitement hadn't gone anywhere. What if, the police showed up at my house with a raid? What if I had managed to get filmed? Or someone spotted me in the park, recognised me and is reporting me to the police this very second?

- God, Bart, what have you gotten yourself into again?

All the phrases I'd been shouted at, the looks of dislike I'd been given, the faces of those who'd done it.... The faces of my friends, my classmates, my wrestling school mates, my family....

- Maybe if I sit down it'll be for the best. - At least I'll stop ignoring the truth that I'm a finished man myself....