**Bart Simpson and the Psalm of Despair**
Prompt: Simpsons fanfiction bart sings psalm 22
The sun was setting over Springfield, casting an orange glow that miraculously softened the chaos of life as usual in the Simpson household. Bart Simpson, the local troublemaker with a heart subtly nestled beneath layers of mischief, sat at his desk, a crumpled paper in front of him, filled with doodles and errant thoughts. But tonight was different; as he picked up his guitar, he felt an urge to dive deeper, to explore a feeling that had been nagging him all week.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Lisa, the ever-inquisitive sister, poked her head through the door.
“Nothing, Lis. Just... thinking,” Bart muttered, strumming a chord that sounded more haunting than happy.
Lisa stepped into the room, noticing the crumpled paper. “You’ve been quiet. You’re not plotting something, are you?”
Bart smirked, momentarily pulled from his reverie. “Nah, just trying to write a song." He fumbled the paper, revealing a half-hearted attempt at lyrics that expressed everything from his candy cravings to the boredom of school.
“Can I see?” she asked, her interest piqued.
Bart sighed and handed it to her. Lisa read through the lines quickly, arching an eyebrow at the abrupt shifts in tone. “Um, you know there’s more to life than just these—” she gestured at the paper. “Like, have you ever thought about real feelings? The big stuff?”
Bart rolled his eyes but felt a begrudging curiosity. “Big stuff? Like what, the meaning of life? Or why Mr. Krabs can’t stop counting money?”
“No, like...Psalm 22.” Lisa shifted her position, eager to share her knowledge. “It’s a biblical text where someone feels utterly abandoned but finds a way to hope through their pain.”
Bart raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. “I don’t get it. Why would I sing something so... depressing?”
“Because, Bart! Sometimes expressing your sadness can be the best way to deal with it.” Lisa encouraged, her sincerity brightening the room.
The thought lingered in Bart's mind for a moment. How could someone so young have such profound insights? With her encouragement echoing in his head, Bart put aside his inclination to tease. “Alright, I’ll give it a shot. But with a rock twist!”
Later that night, after everyone else had gone to bed, Bart stared at the blank page, willing the words to come. He whispered the opening lines of Psalm 22, the words rolling off his tongue in a melody that felt raw and authentic. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” He closed his eyes, losing himself in the rhythm.
As the haunting melody enveloped the room, he imagined himself on a stage, the spotlight casting shadows that whispered of his insecurities and fears. He envisioned a crowd, not of the usual reckless hooligans but a gathering of people who understood the essence of his words. It was thrilling.
The next day, he found himself roaming the school hallways, desperately searching for an audience. The lunchroom was filled with the typical boisterous laughter and rhythmic clatter of trays, but Bart was there with one goal: to share his song. Leaning against the wall, he spotted Milhouse, his trusty sidekick munching on a piece of pizza.
“Hey, Milhouse! You gotta hear this,” Bart called out, grabbing his friend's attention. “I wrote a song!”
Milhouse blinked, excitement mixed with the usual trepidation that came from Bart’s past antics. “What’s it about?”
“Deep stuff, man. Like... feelings and abandonment and—” Bart paused, unsure how to articulate the mix swirling inside him. “You know… life!” he exclaimed, trying to sound more profound.
With a skeptical look on his face, Milhouse asked, “Is it gonna be one of your stupid pranks?”
“Nah, dude! I promise. It’s real!” Bart insisted, and after some prodding, he led his friend outside to a secluded corner where they could practice.
After a shaky start, Bart began to sing the lyrics. As he poured his heart into the words, he watched the expressions on Milhouse’s face shift from confusion to contemplation, the weight of the song washing over both of them like waves crashing against a rocky shore.
“Wow, Bart. That’s... actually kind of deep,” Milhouse admitted, nodding in rhythm as Bart played. “You should do this for the talent show!”
Bart’s heart raced with sudden anxiety. “The talent show? What if I mess it up?”
Milhouse shrugged, eyes wide with enthusiasm. “You won’t know until you try! Besides, it would be more interesting than watching Martin recite Shakespeare.”
The words echoed in Bart’s mind even after school ended. As days passed, he practiced relentlessly, transforming his initial awkwardness into something more focused. Each strum of the guitar, each line of lyrics, became a cathartic release of energy and emotion.
Finally, the night of the talent show arrived. Springfield Elementary’s gym buzzed with the sound of parents, students, and teachers. Bart stood backstage, his heart thumping. A chaotic mix of fear and adrenaline took over as the announcer called up the next act.
“Bart Simpson, performing an original song!”
Bart stepped into the spotlight, the weight of a thousand eyes on him. He swallowed hard, glancing at Lisa, who gave him an encouraging nod. With that, he took a deep breath and began.
As the notes rang out, the fear seeped away. He sang of despair, of feeling lost, but also of finding the flickering hope that lay hidden beneath the surface. The echo of Psalm 22 infused his song with a strange poignancy that resonated across the room. Bart poured every ounce of feeling into the performance, and to his surprise, he felt connected not just to the audience but to himself.
The final chord hung in the air, and silence followed. Bart blinked, feeling vulnerable yet liberated. Then, to his astonishment, the crowd erupted into applause.
In that moment, Bart realized he wasn’t just a misfit or troublemaker; he was more than that. He was capable of creating something meaningful. And as the cheers washed over him, he knew deep down this would be just the beginning. The Psalm of Despair had transformed into a powerful anthem of hope, and Bart Simpson was ready to sing his truth.
