"Ooh…? What?" Homer snapped a little bit out of his work upon hearing the small voice and a tug on his leg. He smiled, knowing that little voice and turned to face the young Bartholomew J. Simpson.
With a gentle expression, his father asked, "Hey, son. Can I do something for you?"
"Teddy bear?" Bart pointed up to a shelf, "Please, Daddy?"
Seeing the ragged brown stuffed animal sitting there, Homer nodded, "Of course, son. Let me get it for you." As he took it down, Homer sighed happily, "I had almost forgotten about this."
As the young boy received the special bear, he said, "Thanks, dada. I will be nice to it."
Homer lifted his son in his arms, "I got this teddy bear when I was your age. My mother gave it to me. You can have it. It's a father-son gift, be nice to it." As he spoke these loving words, the two embraced warmly, wanting to never stop this moment.
Then his father placed him on the ground as he said, "Go out and play with your new teddy bear." As Bart walked off, dragging his father's present along the ground, Homer nodded with a smile and went back to work. As a few minutes had passed by, the silence was broken by some sounds that alarmed Homer…
A sound of a car's tires screeching, then a crash and…
A scream… one too horrifying for the poor man to recognize as he asked himself, "What was that noise? It sounded like a scream." Then suddenly Homer's fatherly instincts took place and he began to get worried, "Please, don't let it be…Bart!?"
Wasting no more time, he ran outside to meet a sad and horrible sight. There, lying on the side of the road, there was a note and…blood. And not just anyone's blood… Homer's eyes met with a shocking sight of…his baby boy, on the road, badly injured.
Bart whimpered in pain and fear, "Dada!"
"BART!" screamed Homer in fright and yelled to his wife, Marge, who was leaning out the doorway and she too had seen the nightmare that had taken place, "Marge?! Call the ambulance! Bart has been hit by a car!"
"Oh my god!? Is he okay??" Marge asked, beginning to tear up and afraid for her child, "Is he still alive, does he breather??"
"I don't know, but he's still conscious, just call the ambulance!" Homer called back.
As Marge ran back inside to find the phone, Homer knelt by his son, beginning to sob silently and he thought, 'If I move Bart in the sofa, he could get more damage. It's best that I will stay with him right here.'
"Bart? Son?" Homer asked, hoping for his son to stay with him while Marge called 911, "Do you hear me?"
"Dada… teddy bear…" Bart sniffled tears as his eyes began to close slowly…
Later, in the hospital, Bart was now in bed, with bandages and wires were hooked to the little boy as he was asleep. Looking in the room through a glass window was Homer. All he could do was feel guilty and ashamed. He let Bart go out in the street, he let him get in a car crash…he nearly let his only son get killed… it's was his fault…
"Homer?" came Marge's voice behind him and she placed her hand on his shoulder, making him look at her very sadly, "Homie?"
Rather then answer his wife, Homer instead embraced her as she embraced back. They stayed like this for a long time…in sad silence…frightened for losing Bart…
In the waiting room, Homer and Marge sat waiting, worried about what news they would get about their child. Homer had his face in his hands. Marge stared at him choking back tears, "Homer…"
"I should never let him go out from the garage. I'm so sorry, Marge," Homer wept, still thinking he was to blame. Then looking up, he asked, "How can someone drive down a little boy?"
Marge shook her head, "It was not your fault Homie… I know who did it. I have proof."
Homer got confused, "How? The car just drove away and you were inside…?" His wife replied, "While you were with Bart, I found a note on the road." Her answer alarmed Homer, "It was Artie Ziff who did it. Take a look…"
As she handed him the sheet of paper, Homer's hands tightened angrily on it as he read these heart-piercing words:
"WHO IS LAUGHING NOW? I WILL BE BACK! AZ"
Having enough, he stood up enraged, "This is sick! I'm calling the police. First trying to kill me and now Bart!?" Homer growled in revenge, "This man is insane. We have to get him behind bars before some other gets killed or hurt."
Marge grabbed her husband's arm, weeping, "Let me do the talking…"
Late at night, Artie Ziff had been arrested and is sent to prison. Bart has been done with surgery for two hours, but they haven't heard anything yet from Dr. Hibbert.
Homer and Marge slept together on the couch in the waiting room, hoping to hear some news, any kind of news as long…as they didn't involve…losing their child. Homer's eyes opened a little glistened with tears and he stared at the door… no sign of the doctor yet, maybe it was too late for little Bart, his little boy…and as he drifted back to sleep…
The couple sat up at once, "Yes?"
It was Dr. Hibbert, "I have good news for you two. Your son is going to be fine." He then continued, "The surgery was perfect in every way. No damage. We have fixed his ribs and lungs. He has a broken arm, but the bandages are going to come off in 6 weeks." The Simpson pairing smiled joyfully as the doctor added, "You can visit him now, he is still sleeping."
Hugging each other in relief and happiness, both Marge and Homer wept with happy tears. Their son was going to live; he wasn't going to die after all…
They then entered his room. Upon seeing Bart with the wires and bandages, tears returned to the eyes of his parents once more. Marge knelt by her son's bedside, but Homer stayed where he was, feeling guilty all over again. Would his son hate him? Hate him forever after that one car crash?
"Don't feel so guilty, Homie." Said Marge, softly as her husband walked over slowly, and biting his lip, he put a trembling hand upon his son's cheek…
Their eyes went wide. Bart had awaked, and was indeed healthy.
Rubbing his hand through the boy's spiky hair, Homer spoke, "Hey son. I'm so glad you are alive! Thank god!"
"It didn't hurt, Daddy." Bart smiled weakly, "I forgive you…"
Once again and forever always, they were going to be a very…