Hi and this is going to be a drawing contest! So the rules are:
*They have to be Simpson related
*It has to be by you
*No nudity or inappropriate language
The deadline is:
15th July 2012
Thanks! I hope you join!
Habits - Ch.5"If pain must come, may it come quickly.Habits - Ch.5 by condemnedcartoon
Because I have a life to live, and I need to live it in the best way possible.
If he has to make a choice, may he make it now.
Then I will either wait for him or forget him."
― Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept
The Pain of Patience
The pungent radiance of daylight sorely offended Smithers' vision; his eyes had grown accustomed to nothing more than the flashing lights of monitors throughout the night. His eyes squinted as he stood for the first time in hours and stiffly walked toward the window, pulling the thin draperies shut. It did little to block out the sun of a glorious summer morning, but it dimmed the light enough for Smithers to regroup.
He hadn't slept; if he had, it had only been for a brief moment, one that was no longer than the time to blink an eye. His head spun, his body ached, his throat desperately begged him for something cool to wet its parched palate – he was on the brink of exhaus
Habits - Ch. 4"Our real discoveries come from chaos, from going to the place that looks wrong and stupid and foolish."Habits - Ch. 4 by condemnedcartoon
― Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters
By the Masses
The air was thick and heavy, settling into Smithers' lungs like bricks of concrete. He tried to breathe to no avail, only managing to sputter. His hands worked busily at his bowtie with no particular purpose other than to attempt calming his nerves.
Bespectacled eyes focused deadly upon the clipboard with the endless stack of information and then glanced to the envelope. Despite the numbness he felt in that moment, there was a storm brewing in the pit of his gut, emotions piling up just as high as that paper stack. He bit his tongue, adjusted his glasses when they slipped to the point of his nose, and once his lungs granted him access to oxygen again, he spoke.
"Did you, um," he fumbled as he felt a noose form around his throat, "did you find anything?"
Hibbert's typically happy-go-lucky attitude had transitioned
Habits - Ch. 3"I lie to myself all the time.Habits - Ch. 3 by condemnedcartoon
But I never believe me."
― S.E. Hinton, The Outsiders
The morning had slowly slipped into afternoon as Smithers tapped his toes impatiently upon the floor. He crossed one leg over the other, anxiously swapping them every few minutes. His eyes trailed along the white walls that seemed to stretch longer than the building itself, almost seeming endless. The scenery wasn't anything he would have chosen, and he had his doubts that a few cheerful aspects would kill; if anything, it would make some patients see the beauty beyond their illnesses.
The magazine he held grew stale after the fourth time of flipping through the pages. His eyes had grown to the size of the font, making his vision squirm when he glanced back up to reality. Setting the magazine on the table nearby, he stood and strolled over to the coffee machine on a table in the corner of the room. It seemed lonely and untouched as many people complained it was too stron
Habits - Ch. 2"There is a space between man's imagination and man's attainment that may only be traversed by his longing."Habits - Ch. 2 by condemnedcartoon
― Kahlil Gibran, Sand and Foam
A large skillet sat atop a low-burning flame over the stove as Smithers piled various ingredients into his arms, cradling eggs and other breakfast goodies. His mind was frazzled as he had slept in, leaving the daggers of Burns' stares lodged in his body. He tried to concentrate on the task at hand, those piercing black eyes tearing him to shreds, glaring at him with impatience and disappointment.
Burns' hands were clasped on the tabletop, fingers laced around one another. The empty plate and arrangement of knives and forks before him only made him that much more annoyed. He fussed with one of the forks for a moment, setting it back in its proper place with a heavy sigh.
"You slept awfully late, Smithers," he hissed with an arched brow, pressing the issue. The index fingers of each hand tucked under his chin as his ey
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