Chapter One - Hitting A Homer

"In Leaping From Life To Life, I often find myself on the wrong side of the law. Like right now. I have been stopped by the Springfield Police--why, I cannot determine."

Sam Beckett looked askance at Chief Wiggum.

"Chief, why did you just repeat my unspoken narrative?"

"Oh, listen to Mister Homer J. 'Don't repeat my narrative' Simpson! Mister, your narrative and your butt are both mine anytime I feel lucky--er, like it. Now just what does this badge on my chest say?"

Sam squinted for a second.

"Teletubbies 4-Ever?"

"Whaaat? Oh, Ralphie! I told you not to mix your badges with mine."

One of the other officers spoke up.

"Uh, Chief? Ralphie's badge is red. Yours, which you got there, is purple."

"So? I am personally gonna prove that Falwell was just plain dead wrong! Now back to you, Simpson. This should fill my ticket quota nicely."

Sam almost gasped.

"I can not believe you admitted that."

"And why shouldn't I admit it? The boys and I do our darndest to keep up the appearance of law and order each month."

"Er--I understand, Chief. But according to current guidelines, any PD that can be proven to have a ticket quota must be dismantled by the courts. It shows an endemic and inherent corruption--so I've heard."

Wiggum laughed derisively, and pulled out his cell-phone.

"Awright, you're so smart! I'm calling the Chief Judge of the State Courts, to show you up. Hello, sir? This is Chief Clancy Wiggum, in Springfield. Yeah, we got a terrific ticket quota going here, and I just wanted to ask.....I see. Well, I...No, sir, we can drive down to the State Pen ourselves. Hmmm...Ditch the purple badge?"

While this was going on, Sam sped off. In years to come, a single State Police car would patrol Springfield once every twelve hours, resulting in a crime reduction of seventy-five percent.

Finally, Sam pulled into the Simpson driveway. He was stunned by the yard's state of utter disrepair.

"Poor Guy must be sick. Oh, well, a few hours of yardwork never hurt anyone. But where is Al?"

Back at Project Quantum Leap, Al and the others were in fact trying to communicate with Sam. Tina told Al what the holdup was.

"Al, Springfield has a background rad-level of..oh,my! Its over 5 gigarads...No, make that 15 gigarads! Mister Simpson himself has 5 gigarads."

Al's eyes bugged out.

"My God, the man's a radiation hazard! Tina, those levels are toxic."

Gooshie shook his head.

"Its okay, Admiral. Mister Simpson's body fat has absorbed and somehow neutralized the radiation."

Homer snorted.

"Body Fat and Radiation. Two things you eggheads say are so BAAAD for us. Its just a matter of degree. Everything In Threes, I always say."

Doctor Verbeena Beeks corrected him.

"Homer, its 'Everything In Moderation.' Trouble comes in threes."

Homer rolled his eyes.

"I can see that I have a LOT of work to do with you people.

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Rod and Tod Flanders ran screaming into their parents' home. In the Simpsons' yard was something beyond comprehension, a sight their young eyes simply could not believe.

"Father! Mother! ITS THE APOCALYPSE!!!!"

Ned Flanders was his usual overcalm self.

"Now, now, kiddly-squiddly-diddlies! What in the H-E-C-K is going on around here? Have you two been speaking in tongues again?"

"Oh, no, Father! Its Mister Simpson. He's--cleaning his yard."

Mrs. Flanders sighed.

"Neddy, you'll simply have to ask Homer as a personal favor to wear clothes while cleaning the yard."

Ned shook his head.

"That's a big No-Can-Do, Honey! I used up my personal favors when he agreed to disconnect the giant sub-woofer."

Ned gestured, and indeed there was a sub-woofer outside the left corner of his house, completely covering that part. Otto passed by in his bus.

"Dude----Someday!"

Inside, Tod shook his head.

"No, Father. Mister Simpson is fully clothed. And---he's doing a great job of cleaning his yard. I'm scared!"

Ned and his wife went outside to investigate.

To their shock, a man who to any and all appearances was Homer J. Simpson was indeed quickly and efficiently cleaning his yard.

He saw his neighbors.

"Hey, uh---Neighbors! Howdy!"

"Well, Hi, Yourself, Homer. Say, what are all those tools, all cleaned and piled neatly-wheatly?"

Since the tools were engraved, Sam Beckett now knew who he was talking too.

"Well, Ned, they're all yours. I found them, while cleaning up my yard. Here ya go!"

Ned regarded the long-borrowed tools with suspicion, and so placed them in a bomb-disposal unit in his garage. Mrs. Flanders decided to put this new Homer to the test.

"Homer, there's a Bible studies class this week. Would you like to go with Neddy?"

Sam decided to do what Homer would surely do.

"Sounds good. My father always said, a man can't have enough religion!"

"Uh, that's a noper, Homer. Your father said that about dentu-creme."

Sam smiled.

"You know, Ned--its good to have you as a friend."

Mister and Mrs. Flanders ran screaming inside. Ned placed a phone call.

"Lovejoy here. Oh, Flanders. What, praytell, is your sign of the Apocalypse for today. It had better.....HE'S DOING WHAT!!!!????"

The Reverend turned to his wife.

"Darling, Get---The Ark!!"

She nodded.

"Covenant or Flood Model?"

Having completed Homer's yardwork, Sam went to go inside. Spying a small wire attached to the doorknob, he carefully removed it, not receiving even so much as a mild shock. He looked over at the joke's would-be perpetrators, Bart and Lisa. He playfully shook his finger at them.

"Why, you little...."

As he went inside, Bart and Lisa stared at one another in horror.

"Lis---was that Homer?"

"I'm just not certain, Bart. Have there been any ion storms of late?"

Bart took out a pair of binoculars, and surveyed the town.

"Nope. Just the usual one over the Shelbyville line."

Inside the house, the pets instantly knew that Sam was not Homer. They responded by showing him great affection.

"Hey, guys? I'll play with you later. Right now, I've gotta clean this kitchen and prepare the meal."

Marge Simpson walked in and quietly surveyed the scene. Her response was measured, and even.

"Aaaaaagghhhh!!! Who are you and what have you done with my Homey?"

As she ran off, Sam thought hard about how he had failed this poor woman by not acting more like her husband apparently did. A difficult question arose in his mind.

"What is up with that hair?"

That night, Marge was acting very much like nothing was wrong. But when she got up from her bed, and went to the bathroom, she saw a shocking sight that confirmed all of her worst fears. She was only able to speak in a whisper.

"The toilet seat---its---its--down."

And in that moment, Marge Simpson's world shattered.

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Homer looked longingly at the accelerator.

"Al?"

Busy trying to find a way to punch through the obscenely thick background radiation of Springfield, Al nonetheless acknowledged their unwanted guest.

"Yes, Homer?"

"Can I play with the time-whoozeethingmawatsis?"

Al shook his head, disbelieving.

"No! Absolutely not."

Homer hung his head.

"Al? If I can't play with the time-whozeethingymawhatsis...then could I maybe...Play with the time-whoozeethingmawhatsis?"

"I said NO! Geez, its like dealin' with a little kid."

Indeed, it was.

"Well, ok...Be A Jerk...I'll just keep to myself. I'll find something to do."

"Good."

Smiling stupidly, Homer then ran like a madman for the accelerator.

"TIME-WHOZEETHINGYMAWATSIS, HERE I COME!!"

But Al was on him in a heartbeat, pummeling the large man within an inch of his life.

"DIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!!!"

As Tina and Dr. Beeks pulled Al back from Homer. Gooshie attempted to explain things to a man with 'issues' about velcro shoestraps.

"Mister Simpson, you mustn't go near that. The accelerator is quite dangerous!"

Homer caught a whiff of Gooshie's breath.

"Whoa, Pal! So its a Breath War, is it? Well, I once beat Barney Gumble himself! Take this!"

Unprepared for the burp that seemed to distend Homer's face, Gooshie passed out. The two ladies were livid.

"You bastard!"

"Gooshie's breath was all he had!"

Simultaneously, the avenging duo belted Homer with uppercuts to the jaw, which sent him flying---straight into the accelerator, which promptly activated. Homer was elated.

"WOOHOO!!"

Al stared numbly at the vanishing buffoon.

"If we all wake up tommorrow as Commies, I am NEVER forgiving you two!"

Tina folded her arms.

"Oh, sure! Blame the women for the wreck of history! Al, that's like, Totally Un-PC!"

Verbeena, helping Gooshie up, took note of something.

"Shouldn't there be a Leapee?"

RMS TITANIC, 1912

Homer Simpson calmly stood and smiled before the assembled passengers, and delivered his message.

"I don't want any of you to panic, but your ship is about to hit an iceberg."

In the blind panic that ensued, Homer was trampled repeatedly, and honestly couldn't figure out why. Then, it came to him.

"Oh, Simpson! How could you forget your movies? That iceberg contains Godzilla!"

Once again, Homer Simpson proved that a man doesn't need an active brain to be a complete yutz.

Next- Chapter 2 - Homer's Odd, See?