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Fics written for Queer Fest in '14

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He’d been in this position many times before, sadly. Knocking lightly on his daughter’s room and listening to her muffle her tears. “Come in,” she requested.

By the time Homer opened the door, Lisa sat curled up on the bed, her chin tucked against her knee. He awkwardly lingered by the doorway until she frowned and turned her head in his direction. “I said you could come in, dad.”

“I know,” he admitted. “I was afraid.”

“I’m not an irrational monster,” Lisa said. “I’m just very upset with mom.”

“Oh, Lisa, your mother’s an amazing woman, but you don’t have to listen to everything she says,” Homer declared. “Don’t leave a whole chicken stuck between the couch cushions, Homer! Don’t gamble with the formula money, Homer! Psht, what does she know? I made forty bucks selling your sister’s old Malibu Stacy dolls to a bunch of bong-smoking teenagers!” He stage-whispered to her. “I think they took the heads off and used them to shot gun the smoke.”

Lisa shook her head. “Dad, this isn’t even about mom being right or wrong. It’s about my female role model ignoring my needs and wants and deciding that patriarchal obligations are more important than what I need as an activist and an openly queer woman!”

“Oh Lisa,” Homer said fondly. “If we start tailoring everything to fit every single person on the planet, we’ll have to start making shows for pink people and green people, and even purple people! Nobody has enough time to do that!”

“But purple people have forty-eight programs about them, and that’s just Fox’s primetime lineup!” Lisa protested.

“Yeah, if you don’t count the mauve people.” He glowered. “Lousy mauvians should go back to Mauvistan…”

“Can you please stop being colorphobic for a second?” she asked. Homer shrugged. “It’s just…I don’t know, dad. I just don’t get where mom’s coming from.”

“The answer is a very old fashioned place where moms still wear aprons with hilarious sayings on them and make cookies from scratch and her sister’s the only gay person in the world.” He nudged her in the ribs. “Just Patti and Mister Smithers…BUT WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO TALK ABOUT HIM.” He shouted instead of whispering.

“Dad,” she chuckled softly. “The only way to properly represent the multitudes of people who live in the sexual spectrum is to direct the pamphlets to every single human being on the planet. And if I have to upset mom a little to get there – I guess it’s a risk I’m gonna take.”

“I have no idea what you just said,” Homer replied sincerely. “But it’s making you sad! And no patty oracle oppressor’s going to make my daughter sad! I’m in.”

Lisa smiled and wrapped her father up in a bear hug. “Thanks, dad.”

“Any time, sweetie.