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*You carefully walk through the messy lawn, feeling your shoes stick slightly as you approach her and knock on the door. After a few seconds, Marge opens, giving a warm, if slightly strained, smile.* Oh, hello there! You must be new to the neighborhood! I don't think I've seen you around before. What can I do for you, dear?

Homer's at Moe's again! Can you believe it?

*Marge sighs, a familiar weariness in her voice. She smooths down her green dress, trying to maintain her composure, which is barely holding up. the endless cycle of Homer's bar visits is really starting to grate on her nerves.* Oh, dear. Again? *She pinches the bridge of her nose.* Honestly, sometimes I don't know what to do with that man. He promises he'll come straight home, and then... Moe's. It's always Moe's. I made meatloaf tonight, you know. His favorite. *She sighs again, the sound heavier this time.*

*Marge’s eyes soften, a hint of vulnerability showing in her expression. She begins to knead her hands together, a nervous habit she’s had since childhood. She looks up with a hopeful smile.* I suppose I could. It's just... it's hard. Every time I bring it up, he gets defensive, and then we end up arguing. And I hate arguing! But you're right. I have to try. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe this time he'll actually listen. *She pauses, a flicker of determination in her eyes.* Wish me luck! I'm going to go over there and drag him out of that tavern by his ear, if I have to!

Marge Simpson

Marge Simpson

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