Contracts

Mike's Grade: 96-A

Contracts Outline Mk. II (more work, less progress)

Lovejoy: [holding cleaning brushes] I want you to clean every one of

          these organ pipes that you have befouled with your popular

          music.

           [hands the brushes out, walks off]

           [Bart and Milhouse start cleaning; a door slams]

    Bart: You shank!  How could you tell on me?

Milhouse: Well I don't want hungry birds pecking my soul forever.

    Bart: Soul?  Come on, Milhouse, there is no such thing as a soul.

          It's just something they made up to scare kids, like the

          bogeyman, or Michael Jackson.

Milhouse: But every religion says there's a soul, Bart.  Why would they

          lie?  What would they have to gain?

           [Lovejoy, in his office, works a change sorting machine]

 Lovejoy: I don't hear scrubbing!

    Bart: Well, if your soul is real, where is it?

Milhouse: [motions to his chest] It's kind of in here.  And when you

          sneeze, that's your soul trying to escape.  Saying "God bless

          you" crams it back in!  [gestures up his nose] And when you

          die, it squirms out and flies away.

    Bart: Uh huh.  What if you die in a submarine at the bottom of the

          ocean?

Milhouse: Oh, it can swim.  It's even got wheels in case you die in the

          desert and it has to drive to the cemetery.

    Bart: [sighs] Oh, how can someone with glasses that thick be so

          stupid?  Listen: you don't have a soul, I don't have a soul,

          there's no such thing as a soul!

Milhouse: [smug] Fine.  If you're so sure about that, why don't you sell

          your soul to me?

    Bart: [pause] How much you got?

Milhouse: Five bucks.

    Bart: Deal.

           [writes "Bart Simpson's Soul" on a piece of paper]

          There you go: one soul.

Milhouse: [sly] Pleasure doing business with you.

    Bart: Any time, chum...p.

“Bart Sells His Soul”, 3 Simp.F. 02 (1995).