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1Season 1, ep 01: "Evolution"
Friday morning: 5:33 a.m.
As Bart awakens to his 3 kids jumping up and down on him, he wearily gets out of bed and gets ready for another crappy day at the KBXL business office; Lisa wakes up in her tiny studio apartment with her man of the evening beside her in bed; Maggie and her husband Milhouse are already on at 5:45 hosting their workout/talk show "Springfield Fit Club" (Rule number one about Fit Club--it's okay to talk about FIT CLUB!) ; Eric's still sleeping as Felecia brings him breakfast in bed but half-ignores her as she sets the bed tray down next to him.
Bart arrives at work with his ID badge which reads "Bart Simpson: Assistant Director of Programming" and proceeds to be hounded by his 20yr old d-bag boss, Ivan (aka Ivan the Unbearable). Wearily, he goes about his day by sorting out corporate's emails when a stumbles upon a request for a job opening in Capital City, but Ivan warns him the job has already been filled, but Bart
The Simpsons: Evolution. Prologue, part 2.The Simpsons: Evolution. Prologue, part 2.
WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF THE PRESSSSSSSENNNNNT!!!!!
Greetings! Now that we've passed the stage of glowing nostalgia of "Maggie and Eric", we now will enter the lives of the "Middle Generation." As M&E was the world of the characters on the cusp of change, "Evolution" is story of the characters's established selves...
BART SIMPSON, AGE 34.
Bart, the one-time bad boy of the Simpson kids, grew up and found his calling in radio as a DJ for the KBXL Morning Show. Paired with Jessica Lovejoy, he was in the running for the top spot in Springfield's radio wars for nearly 9 years before being promoted to assistant director of programming, unfortunetly, he's now the lackey to his old boss's nephew, Kyle, who is 11 years younger and treats Bart like crap.
Outside of work, Bart married his one-time nemesis Gina Vendetti and has three children: Corvus, Hattie, and Cashel, whom on the outside appears to be a happy
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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