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Conspiracy Resurrection: Game Over

Morning Message - Day 1
Sighing, Reverend Lovejoy looked grimly at the newspaper on his desk with the headline 'City Under Attack'. With blood-lusting hoodlums in the catbird seat, Lovejoy sent for the one man who could clean up the town and find the truth behind limbo. He turned to Rex Banner, who sat in the chair next to Lovejoy's desk, and showed him the headline..

"Thank you for coming on such short notice Mr. Banner," began the Reverend.

"When I got your telegram, I knew there was no time to lose," Banner replied. "You say you want to know where limbo came from. Do you really want to know? You see, what I'm saying is... what are you prepared to sacrifice?"

"What do you mean sacrifice?" Lovejoy asked, startled.

"What I mean is, we don't know what we're gonna find out, about life, death or who controls it. The answers could be different than you might expect, different from your beliefs."

"I have sworn to unravel this mystery with all powers at my disposal, and I will do so. I'm responding to the will of the people."

"As you wish." The two men stood and shook hands, beginning Banner's investigation into the mystery that was Limbo.

"But what should we do about the villains?" the Reverend asked. "Even though we won't die, we can't let them keep killing innocent civilians. And what if they discover the secrets of limbo before us? It could all be over then for the good town of Springfield."

"Your courts are a mess, the police are incompetent and at the moment everything is in chaos anyway. You said you are responding to the will of the people, so let their will determine whom to convict."

Lovejoy nodded and Banner walked out of the office. As he opened the door Banner said to himself, "you're out there somewhere limbo artisan, and I'll find you."

Lovejoy slowly stood up and paced the room. He thought about what Banner said for a minute, but then decided he needed a distraction and walked out of his office toward the main room. He stopped at the entrance, as he realized the entire town was in attendance and were clearly very distraught. They were arguing among themselves about the villains and what to do. Lovejoy looked around. Comic Book Guy and Raphael were shooting sarcastic comments at each other, Ralph was picking his nose and the Khlav Kalash vendor was for some reason handing out very thick pancakes.

"We should find these villains!" yelled someone in the crowd. There were cheers of affirmation.

"Ok everyone," Lovejoy interjected, "If you would all just write a name on a piece of paper, we'll tally them up and lynch whoever is written the most even if there is no evidence against them, that seems like a fair enough system."

Evening Message - Day 1

It was 5:15 when the last vote was cast, and the sun wouldn’t be up for much longer. Reverend Lovejoy tallied the votes as the Springfielders waited, impatiently tapping their fingers, playing pinball and watching steam escape from their coffees.


After leaving the church earlier in the day, Rex Banner drove to the person who was the most capable of understanding the phenomenon. He knocked on the door of the lab, and Frink opened it.

"Hello Professor, do you think it's all right if I ask you a few questions about what's been going around here lately?"

"Yes, I think it's alright, come on in." They walked over to the lab bench, and sat one opposite stools.

"Mr. Frink, as you are aware our dead are not staying dead, in fact their souls are still roaming around the town. I have been assigned to find out why and how this is happening. Have you any insight?" Banner asked.

"Well, it should be clear to even the most dimwitted individual, who holds an advanced degree in hypothetical thanatology, that we stumbled into a glitch in the matrix so to speak. There is something blocking the ability of souls to leave our plane of existence. I haven't had enough time to figure out the cause, but I have done a few experiments, and I invented a device that could be very helpful, especially while these villains are on the loose. Maude would you come out please."

Banner looked to where the Professor called, and he saw Maude enter the room. She looked as alive as she did before the accident a week ago.

"That's right, I have invented a mirror that can resurrect a soul from limbo." Frink unveiled a large mirror behind a tarp. "Tell the chosen person: 'Go to the mirror! Look into it and push the button on top.' Their soul will be sucked into the mirror, and will reenter their body, good as new! Unfortunately, it can only work once every 24 hours, and I just used it on Maude today, so you can start with the living and the resurrecting and the what not tomorrow."

"Once! But we have murderers out there, most likely killing two people every night. Not to mention we're lynching suspects left and right. What about the rest of the souls?"

"They're all wasted! I guess. Or they were wasted, and will continue to be dead. Or- glavin! What I mean is that's the best I can do, I don't have the proper materials to make another."

"No, that's fine Professor, this is a great help. Please contact me if you find out anything else about limbo." Banner carefully loaded the magic mirror into his truck, and drove back towards the church.


Twenty minutes later, Reverend Lovejoy announced the wait was over. “The winner- I mean the person with the most votes is Lisa Simpson, and she will be lynched immediately!”

Lisa pleaded for her life as she was dragged away by the mob.

Marge cried out "why would you start with a child?!" Moe tried to comfort her, but she was inconsolable.

“We have no way of knowing if Lisa was a villain," Lovejoy announced, "except to wait out the night and hope there are no more murders. But I think it’s clear from the news reports that we are dealing with a pair, or more likely, two pairs of murderers. And if Lisa was a villain, she could have been working with anyone of you! We don’t really know who anyone truly is.”

Reverend Lovejoy points randomly into the crowd. “Like you! Who are you? Or maybe it’s me!” A collective gasp escapes the crowd. Lovejoy laughed, “no, it’s not me. Please everyone, you can go sleep at home tonight, just stay inside and lock your doors. Even though it may seem as if we have eternal life and never die, it’s still probably better not to be killed tonight.”
Morning Message - Day 2
The Springfielders woke up inside their houses and anxiety filled the town. Each person tormented during the night over whether they would wake up in their own bodies or as half-dead spirits. All the townspeople flocked to church, some out of curiosity, some for safety, and some for cover. As the Springfielders tried to account for everyone a gruff voice came from the corner of the church.

“Ach! It’s the wee lad that has the hallucinations of the Leprechaun, he’s nae here!” piped up Willie, discovering Ralph’s absence first.

“Ralph?!” enquired Bart, voicing everyone’s thoughts.

"Ralph? Don't you mean -" someone in the crowd began.

"Get in my way and I’ll whack you in the labonza!” shouted Legs as he and Louie burst through the door. “Who did this to Johnny Tightlips!" they demanded. Sure enough, Johnny floated next to them, in the same form as Lisa assumed the evening before. A collective gasp rose from the crowd, shocked that Johnny Tightlips was targeted during the night.

“He wasn’t the only one,” said Chief Wiggum lugubriously. The Wiggum family, Clancy, Sarah and Ralph walked in (or in one case, hovered) and it appeared Willie was right. “We found Ralphie’s b-body in his b-bed, and his ghost f-form trying to shove crayons up his nose…” Sarah managed to squeal out before breaking into sobs that were not dissimilar to the noise of a pig. “But he got frustrated when he couldn't pick up the crayons from the carpet…” finished Wiggum.

Somewhere in the crowd, perplexed muttering could almost be made out. "Is that right? I don't think that is right. Did you check with the bookkeeper that we got the right person?" Across the room similar muttering occurred, and a few others had confused expressions on their faces. All of this went unnoticed by the rest of the Springfielders, as they were too distracted by the recent deaths.

“Somebody please think of the children!” cried Helen Lovejoy, covering Jessica’s eyes, while she continued to peek through the gap with a quiet, devilish laugh.


Marge Simpson was not at the church. She had been up all night.

After the lynching the day before, she left the church angry that the town had subjected her daughter to such a quick demise. She entered the house, grabbed her robe and a spell book, and began formulating an appropriate form of revenge.


“Timothy!” Helen Lovejoy cried out, “it’s happened again!” The Reverend rushed in at this call.

“Who did this to you, boy?” the Reverend asked Ralph.

“I found a moonrock in my nose.”

“Maybe we’ll do better with Johnny Tightlips.” The Reverend turned towards him, hoping to get some information about the killers.

“I already told you, I ain’t… saying… nothing,” he answered, feebly.

“We found him in his room at Tony’s place. Wouldn’t tell us nothin’, Rev,” added Louie, enforcing the fact that trying to coax information out of Johnny would be impossible.

As her husband paced the aisle, Helen Lovejoy ran up she asked, “Who could have done such a thing?!”

“The culprits must still remain among us!” Murmurs and accusations rose from the crowd.

Chief Wiggum made an attempt to calm things down. “Eh. They’ll probably end up killing each other off anyway. That usually happens in this sort of thing,” said Chief Wiggum, “I say let them at us!” Every set of eyes in the building collectively rolled at Wiggum.

"Luckily, John Frink told me that the revival of those in Limbo is possible," Rex Banner announces. He showed the Reverend the mirror which Frink had given him, and he summoned the 3 spirits. “Just one though, for some inconvenient reason it only works every 24 hours,” Banner finished. Johnny Tightlips, Ralph and Lisa looked at each other, both hopeful and troubled. "It's up to the three of you who gets resurrected, it's only fair."

"As for the rest of you, I think we all know the drill. Grab a piece of paper and a pencil-" he stopped ad he looked down at the supplies on the table. "That's strange, all we have are colored pencils, but they look different." Lovejoy took a pencil and wrote his name on a piece of paper. "It seems these pencils change colors as they write! How odd, I guess it will be a very colorful lynching!"


Marge Simpson had arrived at the church, after finally getting a few hours of sleep. She was still quite angry, but was starting to realize her spell may have been a little harsh for the Springfielders. She watched them scrambling to write their votes, but getting confused with all the colors. She sighed, then whispered a few words while she waved her finger subtly in the air, and the spell was lifted.
***All votes of alive players for lynching may now be cast or removed
in the original solid green color***

Evening Message - Day 2

To have life and death happening simultaneously in front of him shook Reverend Lovejoy to his core. We should not be in control of these things, he thought to himself. When did Springfield get so strange? It wears him out. How long it had been going on like this, he couldn't remember. When was the last time he slept? It wears him out. That day there was much discussion over whom to believe and who was lying.

"Hi, I'm Troy McClure. You may remember me from yesterday's lynching. I think Duffman has had too many of his beers. Did you hear who he said we should listen to?"

"Yeah, what's with that?" Roy chimed in.

"Quit butting in please," Comic Book Guy replied. "Your IQ is a mere 155 while mine is a muscular 170, and I agree with Duffman."

"Who cares what your IQ is, we're getting distracted!" Roy replied.

"I may be paranoid, but did the police chief seem suspicious to you?" Selma asked.

Across the room, or rather on the other side of the room, the Khlav Kalash vendor was standing with his food cart, which was good because everyone was starving.

"Do you have anything meat-free?" Paul McCartney asked.

"Only khlav kalash!" the vendor replied. "Do you even live in Springfield?"

"Do you? I've visited at least twice before."

"That'll be twelve dollars."

Sideshow Bob perked up. "Twelve minus three equals nine. Nine divided by three equals three. Three divided by three equals one--"

"You can do math?" the vendor interjected. "You are hired! Please sell khlav kalash!"

And in the middle of the room sitting in a pew was a person making sense, but only briefly, and no one took notice. Perhaps even he thought he was joking, and perhaps he was sitting because he wasn't wearing any pants.

The final vote was cast, and preparations were made. Reverend Lovejoy counted the votes, while Rex Banner set up the magic mirror. For the Springfielders though, there were no alarms and no surprises, since they had all discussed who they were voting for. Ralph Wiggum approached the mirror and pushed the button to return, while Gerald the Unibrow Baby was attempting to escape being lynched. "He's crawling out the door!" Legs and Louie were standing at the exit. They picked up Gerald, and carried him unwillingly to his assured departure from the living.

Lovejoy looked at Banner hopefully, "do you think we are getting anywhere with our lynchings?"

Banner replied, "let's just hope we're all getting lucky with trapping the villains in limbo, because if there are any clues to be found I doubt the townsfolk are finding them."

"But we thought for sure that the contents of Ralph's nose would have helped us find a villain or two."

"I'm pretty sure that moon rock was imaginary." Banner looked down at the table. "Maybe you should start with these weird colored pencils instead, that seem to have magically changed back to normal. What could have been the reason for that?"

A puzzled look came over the Reverend's face. "I have no idea, but it was a great annoyance for everyone alive."

Banner sighed. "I'm starting to think there is too much magic in this town."
Morning Message - Day 3
Rain bounced from the sidewalks of Evergreen Terrace, as Reverend Lovejoy sauntered down the dimly lit street, clutching his umbrella. Tensions had mounted in the town after the barbaric murder of baby Gerald. Blinds were pulled and curtains closed, families could be seen huddled in sitting rooms, wary of their surroundings. Was anyone in Springfield safe? Lovejoy walked up to the front of Number 742, knocked on the door and Marge answered.

"Reverend?" she said, surprised to see him. "Please, come in."

He left the dark cold night, and entered the bright and cheerful house. As he set down his umbrella, he noticed a book on the coffee table, shimmering with an enchanting aura. "What is that book?" he asked her.

"Oh, that's just my spell book," she replied as if it was nothing but a standard coffee table book.

"You can do magic? That's wonderful!" he exclaimed. "There must be something you can do to help us."

She frowned. "Well there is one spell I've been thinking about, but it's not easy, and I'm not sure how much it'll help you."

"Please, anything would help us at this point."

She nodded and picked up her spell book, turning to a page near the middle. "This one here may give you some information on those limbo spirits, but it can only be performed twice, and it's kind of vague. It'll have to do though. I'll grab my robe and get right on it."

She showed him to the door, and he took a deep breath as he ventured back out into the night.


Every resident of Spinster City Apartments woke to a bloodcurdling, masculine scream, bar two.

“Selma! Why you?!” croaked Patty, who had just woke up to see her sister, hovering over her bed in a ghostly state.

“I don’t know maybe you should go and find whoever did it?” Selma replied sarcastically. “I need a cigarette. Light me up,” she added. “Wait, what!” she exclaimed, attempting to pick up her pack without success, her ghostly hand just slipping through it. “I have nothing to live for!” she sobbed, which sounded more like choking rather than crying.


Hearing the news, saddened that both her daughter and her sister had been killed within two days, Marge called from the Simpson house kitchen, “Kids! Get your jackets, we’re going to church!” Moans and sighs could be heard in unison around the house, from Bart, Lisa and Homer.

“Do we have to?” they called out. “Why’s it so important?”

“The killers murdered Selma in her sleep!”

“WOO-HOO!” Homer yelped, delighted. “I-I mean, I’m very sorry for your loss Marge…”

“Get in the car…” Marge moaned, disgusted at Homer’s joy.


When they arrived at the church, Marge hugged Patty, both with tears down their cheeks, as Bart, Lisa and Homer walked to Selma to give her their sympathies.

“I wonder who else kicked it!” Bart said, apparently excited to find out who had died.

Roy floated over to Homer. “Heyyyy, Mr. S!”

“AHH! Homer yelled. “Who are you?”

“I’m Roy, remember? That annoying guy that was around for one episode.”

“…who?” Bart asked, joining the conversation.

Roy grunted, clearly annoyed by his lack of recognition and floated away, angry that no one had noticed his death.

"Look at all these random characters around lately. Where is Skinner, Krusty or anyone else I normally see in Springfield?" someone in the crowd asked, but no one could answer.

The Khlav Kalash vendor had set up his stall in the church again. “Ah ha! Customers!” he said, as he watched his first customer approach the stall. “You want Khlav Kalash? No bowl, stick.”

“No stick, spoon! I like rusty spoooons. I like to touch rusty spoons. The feeling of rust, is almost - ”

“AAH!” yelled the vendor, scrambling to get away from the horrific, green creature.

“Don’t you like rusty spoons!?” the monster called to the vendor, who was now running off into the distance, “I… must find the perfect spooon."

ATTENTION: All players alive and in limbo collectively have one ability, that may be used on two separate days. This ability will give you all some information on those in limbo. When you want to use it, you must vote like this: ++reveal (you may also change your mind and remove it as per usual --reveal). As soon as a majority of players have voted to reveal, the spell will be cast, and the information will be given. The votes will set back to zero at the beginning of every day. Again, you may only use this ability twice, and the majority of players (alive & limbo together) must vote to reveal.


Marge Simpson was sitting in the back corner of the church studying her spell book, when the Reverend yelled from the front of the church.

"We have a majority! Do the spell!"

Already wearing her robe, she stood and spoke the words while performing a complicated maneuver with her finger. "AH-par-EE-see-um!" After which she fell to the ground, fainting from the tremendous effort. The Springfielders looked in the air above her where it spelled out in glimmering blue:

The number of villains in limbo is either 0 or 1[/quote]
Evening Message - Day 3

After reading the result of the spell, the Springfielders were more angry than ever.

"Well that was a waste of time, what a bunch of horsedung!" yelled Duffman.

Otto agreed, "yeah, might as well not have voted."

Then others joined in. "I thought the spell was gonna tell us who people were in limbo, so we could resurrect all the innocents and slowly kill off everyone alive. Then the Springfielders would win the game for sure."

"Yeah, the villains aren't supposed to actually win this game, are they?"

"What game?!" Selma asked. "People are dying here!"

Everyone argued over how the spell could help them. A few were confused, some hunted for clues while others played a game. Scissors cut paper, paper covered rock and diamonds cut diamonds.


A strange thing happened to Reverend Lovejoy that day. He was abducted by aliens.

While grabbing a few things from his car in the church's parking lot, a black limo pulled up behind him. Someone grabbed him from behind and forced into the limo. Kang and Kodos sat in the seat opposite. He looked at them, stunned, and each removed their sparkling ruby sunglasses. He glanced out the window and saw they were speeding down the road.

"Greetings earthling wizard, tell us the secrets of limbo."

"What?" he replied, confused as to what was happening. "I'm not a wizard at all. I'm Timothy Lovejoy from Springfield, and I don't know anything about it." He looked out the window once more, and noticed the road had turned from grey to yellow. "I actually thought it might have something to do with the two of you."

"Us? We don't have that kind of technology. That's the problem with you earthlings, always stereotyping aliens. Just because we're green and slimy, can't breath your weird earthly air and have giant ships that can float in space, you think we have all the answers. We know a few of you earthlings have magic, and when we figure out our three wishes we will get you, and your little dog too!"

"And don't go telling the Springfielders what happened here today, they will probably take it out of context."

But just to make sure, they put back on their sparkling ruby sunglasses, and picked up a silver tube-shaped object that flashed brightly at the Reverend's face. Then they nudged him out of the limo, and back into the church's parking lot.


After the lynching of Otto Mann and the resurrection of Roy back in the church that evening, the Springfielders were uneasy. Had they trapped a villain? Would they ever know for sure? Their rumblings became louder and their turmoil intensified.

"Please calm down," the Reverend said.

"How are we supposed to stay calm? There are villains all around us, and we have nothing to go on! We've been reading these history books about when similar things happened in other towns that didn't have magic, and when those people died, they found out all about them."

"They did, did they? And what did they have to go on in those cases? The same things we have: night targets, behavioral theories and clues. Let's look over our clues again, it may be that they had been leading us in the right direction at some point. And maybe if we could just get rid of some of these spirits, we could have some closure too. Marge, is there a spell to send the souls to their final resting place?"

"Hey!" everyone in limbo yelled simultaneously. "We are floating right here you know!"

Marge answered, "no, I'm afraid I have no control over permanent death. We'll just have to wait and see if other people have that magic."

"Well I hope they use it soon, because we are all getting very impatient!"

"I know," said the Reverend as he rolled his eyes.
Morning Message - Day 4
“Springfielders, we are gathered here today to give thanks for the life of Paul McCartney.” Reverend Lovejoy stood at the church podium for the fourth consecutive day, in front of a full house. Paul was standing off to the side, along with the others in limbo, but the town had noticed some were missing.

“Unfortunately, it seems as if we can never escape true and permanent death. Souls were taken from limbo this night, and now there is nothing that can be done for them."


Lisa had watched Roy push the button on the mirror. Sure she could have been the one to go back, but she did what she thought was the right thing to do. Floating above her bed that night, still trying to figure out if souls could sleep, she was disturbed by a noise downstairs.

"Take my hand, child, come with me," whispered a deep foreboding voice.

She glided apprehensively through the door and into the landing. Even though it was night and all the lights were off, the air seemed darker.

"It's time you were on your way," it whispered again as she moved down the stairs.

Magic filled the air, a dark magic. A strange wind blew through the house, leading to a large black abyss that appeared in the living room. Lisa went for the spell book still on the coffee table, but her hand went right through it. No spell could help her now, but she smiled. As the wind pulled her towards the darkness, she yelled loudly hoping someone would hear "suckers, you just wasted your magic!"

Out of the dark hole a hand reached out, and the evil one crept up and slipped away with her.


“Lisa and Gerald are gone - ”

“The baby too!?” exclaimed someone in the crowd. “When we asked for closure, this was not what we meant…”

“Marge, was it dark magic that got Gerald as well?” implored Lovejoy, frightened, as he had once imagined Limbo as a safe place, a place to be desired.

“I…I don’t think so. There’s a much more light feeling to this magic...” Marge answered. Everyone in the church looked confused.

"Was no one else killed last night? Lately there have been two murders. Perhaps we have a savior to thank."

“Lisa and Gerald were true Springfielders, and will be missed. Though this may come as a shock, we must all not forget that there are villains behind it all, and we must find them.”
Evening Message - Day 4

"Let's go over this again, what kind of magic killed Lisa?" asked Duffman as he passed out another round of beer.

Santa's Little Helper barked. "Your right," Ned replied to the dog, "and I think Sideshow Bob is behind it all."

"Me?" Bob said surprised. "Nonsense, you're going rogue."

Watching the conversation, Maggie sucked on her pacifier while Johnny Tightlips looked on, as tight-lipped as ever.


The Reverend decided to go for a long walk that day, while the town tended to their voting. He left the church, turning right on the wide stretching and curvy sidewalk. After walking for distance, on his left he passed a newly planted corn field. Wasn't it too early to plant corn, he asked himself. Confused, he wondered how he even ended up so far from the church, and wasn't quite sure how to get back. Soon enough he reached a beaten down shack. Might go in for a short rest, he thought, and knocked on the cracked wooden door.

Cletus answered. "Yes'um? Well, hey there Rev'rend. What brings you by these parts?"

"Oh, hello Mr. Spuckler. Sorry to disturb you, but I seem to be a little lost. Could you point me in the direction back towards the church?"

"Sure thing, now let me think." Cletus looked around. "Brandine! Which way is it to the church? I think if you walk down that-a-way--" he pointed to the right.

"Turn left out of the driveway!" yelled someone in the house.

"No I don't think that's right, hon," Cletus replied handing him a cup of water.

"That's ok, I'll figure it out," said Lovejoy. He thanked the Spucklers for the water, and continued down the road.


He came to a forest, and saw a strange green glow moving towards him. It made some noises that Lovejoy couldn't quite make out. It frightened him. As it got closer, he panicked thinking it might be some alien affiliate of Kang or Kodos, sent after him again for magic. He couldn't move for fear. The alien came near and Lovejoy screamed, while striking it with his hand as hard as he could across the alien's face.

Mr. Burns screamed out at the same time. "Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Burns!" the Reverend explaimed, realizing his mistake.

"No, thank you. That felt wonderful!" Burns replied, slowly coming out of his daze.

Apprehensively, Lovejoy asked "you wouldn't by any chance know the way back to the church?"

"What do I look like, a tour guide? And now that I am back to normal I don't bring love. I bring hate, fear and... " He removed a small electronic box from his pocket and pushed the red button on top. Burns looked at Lovejoy, and smiled maliciously.

The Reverend turned cautiously and walked away, then began to run. Barking sounds followed him through the woods.


After running for what seemed like hours, he reached the edge of the trees, and emerged on to Pikeland Avenue. Oh my, that's strange, he thought. Right in front of him was a pink house, with a little boy outside in the front yard whom he recopgnized immediately.

"Hello Milhouse."

Startled, Milhouse jumped backwards. "Oh, hello Reverend Lovejoy. Sorry for jumping, I haven't slept in weeks."

"Weeks? But the murders didn't start until four days ago."

"Yeah, I know. My nerves must have sensed it coming."

"Why don't you come with me back to the church, I think I know the way from here." Milhouse followed him, and the Reverend hoped that at the end of the road they would find some clarity. Yet in truth he knew chaos surely reined.


They returned to room full of commotion, with new clues and old schemes. Santa's Little Helper was hovering in spirit form, and Paul McCartney was gone, undoubtedly he had gone through the mirror and re-joined his body. Just another day in Springfield.

Dark magic removes four,
and light magic three.
If a turncoat is caught,
five dark ones there will be.

Many clues you have seen,
some have led you quite near.
The funniest of those,
may point to those you fear.

The culprits remain,
amongst us yet still.
But that doesn't mean,
not one has been killed.

Be careful of death,
for lasting it is not.
Those scoundrels will smile,
while stirring the pot.

Morning Message - Day 5

"Are the Springfielders actually getting anywhere?" Banner asked himself as he paced the length of his motel room. He watched the clock strike two, and knew that it would be a long night...

Some hours later, he was woken by a clash of what sounded like metal on wood, which was coming from his door. Cautiously, he grabbed the nearest object he could (a shabby lamp), and proceeded to tiptoe to the door. Who could be knocking on his door at this time? Upon straining his ears, Banner could hear another, troll-like sound, coming shortly after each knock. It had suddenly occurred to him that there was not two people at the door...
"...please, no," grunted a half conscious voice from outside, audibly in pain. The owner of that voice was obvious, Banner knew, it was none other than Moe Syzlak.

"They're still at large..." he said under his breath cursing. “Which, by the way, could mean that there's a villain in limbo... they do have partners." He added, talking to himself. He wanted to do something, but should he risk his life, when it was obvious Moe's was past saving. Moe's grunts and moans continuously ran in the background as Banner thought, but he was too late. Through the blinds of his window, he could see a bright light flash momentarily, and Moe's grunts stopped. It was at this moment Banner took the courage to open the door, but he had already seen a figure or two move off into the darkness, knowing he was once again too late to be of any use.
"Moe!" Banner shouted to the ghost, "who was that!"

"How am I meant to know, that's why they attack during the night, ain't it?" Moe snapped back, snarkily.

"Fine... meet at the church tomorrow. We'll need to find out who else was targetted. Hopefully we'll actually look for and find a clue rather than complaining about the lack of them."

That morning, the crowd (which was beginning to full up with Limbo residents) was greeted with an unfriendly sight. The Reverend was at the side of the altar, examining the Magic Mirror.

“People of Springfield, let this be a lesson that cheating the system is not permitted,” he preached, “Johnny Tightlips had tried to use the Mirror without our permission, and without letting it cooldown for 24 hours, as instructed by Professor Frink. He has been, regrettably, permanently killed.”

“He didn’t say nuthin’ anyway!” a member of the crowd called out, seemingly unaffected by Johnny’s death. Two of the newest Limbo members looked uncomfortable. Sideshow Bob, who seemed mortified that he had died before Bart Simpson, hovered in a corner, not looking to socialise with anybody. On the other hand, Moe was quite the opposite.

“Was it you that killed me?! I betya it was! He’s been looking at me funny for days!” He called out, and soon he had accused everyone in the room of murder, even Banner, who had been on the other side of the door at the time.
With murderers still among them, although an unknown number, it appeared the Springfielders still had their work cut out for them.

SirLance has been killed after not voting with a forced vote
Evening Message - Day 5

Duffman eyed Bob and Rafael with growing suspicion. He pointed his finger and exclaimed "ah ha! You two are clearly in cahoots!"

"Woah, careful there Sherlock Holmes," Rafael replied. "That logic is flawed."

"That logic is flawed. Well, I think it sounds plausible," said Roy, agreeing with Duffman. "But what I wanna know is, what does this dopplegänger do?"

"That's not important, we should be finding villains!" argued Troy.

"The spell said 0 or 1 villains in limbo, that means we're doing very badly! We only have a few more days before either we get them or they kill us all. Maybe we should just vote with our gut."


A villain stepped out of the church that day, during the midday break. Desperate to get a moment to himself, he had volunteered to grab some supplies from the Kwik-E-Mart. Conspiracies can be really draining sometimes.

"Welcome! I haven't seen you in a few days, how are you?" Apu asked as he walked into the store.

"Doing well Apu, thanks. Yeah, it's been many long days down at the church. Got to find those villains," he replied, laughing nervously. He walked quickly to the back of the store, avoiding further conversation. This was a break after all, a brief respite from the constant plotting and manipulation.

He tried to remember everyone's requests. Some dog food, some beer, donuts and baby food. What else was there? Looking at the milk through the refrigerator door, his reflection caught his eye. Only a few more days, and the town would be his. Well, he would have to share with his partner. He smiled mischievously. They were doing well, still both alive.

Approaching the counter, he nodded at Apu and set down the items. "Good luck to you fine and brave people. This town owes you a great debt for trying to save us from these savage murderers." Apu took the money and bagged up the supplies.

"Oh, you don't have to thank me," the villain replied, and he walked out of the store, heading back towards the church.


Suck, suck. Suck, suck. Maggie had a confused expression on her face. She looked at Lionel Hutz and pointed.

"Yeah, why is he speaking strangely, we already have Roy over here talking nonsensically."

"I think he just **** Marge. Didn't he vote to lynch Lisa on the first day or something?"

"No, I don't think so. It must have been something else."

"Time is up! Please hand in your votes," the Reverend announced. A few people frantically scribbled a name on their paper. Some looked confident, while others shrugged as they handed in their votes. Lovejoy counted them in record time, he was getting very used to this. "Ralph has the votes for lynching. Otto will return to our side."

About an hour later, the town prepared for another long night. "Be careful on the way home," warned the Reverend. "There's a killer on the road." Walking out of the church, the whisper of the wind was the last sound they heard.

Morning Message - Day 6

Hutz was adamant that little Ralph Wiggum was the traitor… he had resigned to his dirty, damp dwelling for the night. With a bottle of bourbon in one hand, he sat in his manky armchair in the darkness of the room.

“If I’ve voted for him this time and he’s finally…” he began, opening a tin of baked beans which he had lifted off the gas cooker.

But his speech trailed out, after he heard a rustling from his front door.

“Quiet, there might be others here! He blatantly claimed he was the traitor!” said a voice in a strained whisper.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that… wasn’t very smart was it?”

Hutz jumped up from his chair and scarpered behind it. “Well that backfired…” he said to himself, although not surprised since that type of thing doesn't usually work out well.

As the intruders forced the door open, Hutz jumped and screamed. A loud bang could be heard before Hutz’s body fell as limp as a ragdoll, and a ghostly figure grew out of it, as the villains claimed another life.

“Let’s get out of here, don’t let him see you!”

The two left through the door and hurried off into the night, Hutz cursing them in their wake.

Some hours later, just after dawn, the Khlav Kalash vendor was getting ready for another day of work, stocking his cart with not-very-fresh supplies of Khlav Kalash and Crab Juice.

“I hope the green monster does not come looking for spoon again…” he said, apprehensively.
Although unbeknownst to him, something much more dangerous was lurking around the corner. As he began to sell his Khlav Kalash, he had thought he had noticed someone, or some people, the number was unclear, following him. He anxiously pushed his cart along the streets of Springfield, picking up his speed. But before he could say, “No Bowl, Stick!” he had felt something hit him, and suddenly he lost grasp of the cart, his ghostly hands simply slipping through it.

Around midday, the Church had begun to fill up, and everyone was in a routine of seeing which two souls had entered limbo, and occasionally which had moved on…

As Hutz entered, there were no gasps as there were with previous Limbo residents.

“Well that was a surprise…” said the sarcastic sales clerk.

“He did claim to be the traitor…” Comic Book Guy snarled.

However, when the Khlav Kalash vendor entered, angry, there was one overly-distraught person.

“NOO!” Homer cried, mourning the loss of his beloved New Yorker.

“Homie,” Marge whispered, with Patty at her side, “have you seen Selma?”

“Nah, she’ll probably turn up!” he replied, not effected by her disappearance.

The crowd hushed as the Reverend took to the podium.

“Springfielders, we have lost two more today. But, we must still be thankful, they were obscure characters and we must remember that, hopefully, not one has permanently died tonight.”

Marge had been looking anxious for a while... “But, where’s Selma?” she begged, only to be answered with confused shrugs of careless Springfieldians.

If a traitor is targeted by a villain team in the night, s/he will not go to limbo because s/he will not die, as per usual

(If = in the future :P )
Evening Message - Day 6

The day was over. Votes were counted and fulfilled. The Springfielders had gone home. Reverend Lovejoy sat at his desk, trying to clear his head. His mind drifted back to a funny situation from the previous day.

"I'm back from the Kwik-E-Mart," said a man coming through the double doors of the church, carrying donuts, dog food and beer, among other things.
"Woohoo!" Homer cheered.
"Who asked for the donuts?" he enquired.
"Me!" Homer shouted, excitedly.
"Obviously... and the baby food?"
"Me, again!" Homer shouted.
The man rolled his eyes, "and the dog food?" he called out.
"Err... me," Homer called out a third time.
This caused many people to look at Homer curiously as he explained, "so what? My palate has grown more sophisticated."
Sighing at Homer, someone asked, "Oh yeah, what's a palate?"

Lovejoy laughed, then noticing a small book he had never seen before, picked it up and turned to a bookmarked page. He read to himself:

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

He took a deep breath and looked up. He froze.

Towering in front of him were two people dressed in black, faces covered. Before Lovejoy could speak, a knife slid out of a villain's pocket, and into the Reverend's chest.
Morning Message – Day 7

His limp body slouched over his desk, Lovejoy’s ghost rose from the chair, his mouth gaping.

“But…how? Why?” he asked himself, in shock. After getTing over the initial trauma, he Hovered out of his office into the main church, noticIng the last of the crowd were still filing out, unaware of the recent turn of events.

“Wait!” he called to them, deSperate for answers. At his cry, the remainder of the crowd turned around at the door.

“Reverend? What happened?!” they said collectIvely.

“Did you see two large, cloaked figureS leave?!” he half shouted.

“…no?” they said, inquisitively.

“But, they were just in my office! They did this to me!”

“Reverend… are you sure you Aren’t seeing things? Did you fall asleep?”

“No!” he shouted, fuming that they missed two murdererS, and he hovered out of the door. He would have to find them, if no one else could.

The next morning, the town woke up; each person fEaring one they had loved had been targeted. Marge Simpson, morning the permanent loss of her sister and daughter, could not bear to lose anyone else she held dear. Homer woke up to prepare to go to the Church for the 7th day in a row, and he left the room to rouse Bart and Maggie. He opened Maggie’s door, dropped to his knees and sobbed at Maggie’s ghostly hands trying to grasp her mobile hanging above the Cot. Homer called Marge in.

“Maggie as well?!” she cried out. Her sorrow turning to anger, she called to the rest of the family, “Come on, we’re going to talk to Lovejoy!”

At the ChuRch, there was the routine check of the nEw Limbo residents; many looked sympaThetically at the Simpsons, whoM Maggie hovered behind. However, not much attEntion was Shown towards Raphael, the saleS clerk, who sulked in a corner.

“What gives?” he moaned, “Ain’t no one crying over me!”

“Where’s the Reverend?” MarGe asked loudly, cutting across Raphael’s rant.

“He… stormed out last night… he says onE of the villains got him. He’s in limbo,” someone from the crowd informed Marge, and collective gasps rose from the crowd.

“How? He wasn’t even playing!” one asked.

“But who’ll take charge of us now?” said another.

Another day of mysteries and theories and conspiracies began in Springfield, however someone was actually doing something useful. Looking for clues.

The Reverend had been determined to find these villains once and for all. He had spent the entire night searching for just one inconsistency, one trail, one clue that could lead him somewhere, but his efforts were seemingly fruitless, he couldn’t do it alone. He had given up, and was beginning to make his way back to the church. “I could use some help… I need a proper detective though… not someone that uses Homer Simpson’s appetite as a clue.”
Evening Message - Day 7

Eight pieces of paper lay face up on his desk. Helen had placed them carefully, since he obviously could no longer handle such things.
To gain my help and trust,
correctly answer these riddles, you must.

What is your only guard against death,
something that will save you from breathing your last breath?

magic mirror
A humble weapon it was,
However it did not save him from death's snapping jaws.

Had it succeeded in saving a soul,
Homer's liver would continue to spiral out of control

shabby lamp
It is the carrier of grim, dark news,
The story it told was the reason every night people filled the pews.

With it our journey began,
Where two men tried to concoct a plan.

Should your name be written here,
You're a dead man walking, that much is clear.

Like little Lisa, Gerald, and others you have chose
Is this really a just way to decide who goes?

piece of paper
What could have helped you all like nothing else would,
Yet you used it's powers too quickly, how would it do any good?

What shined with an aura, what gave you a gift?
It caused an event that gave this town a lift.

What item gave you an opporunity,
To once again restore peace to the community?

The answer to all of these lead to one place,
But be quick, for the villains you will have to race.

marge's spell book
On one paper was written 3 correct answers, and this person would be his guide.


As the townsfolk were heading home, he apporached his new detective. "I can be very sneaky in my new ghostly form. If you choose one person, either alive or in limbo, I will follow them home and stake out their house for the night. In the morning, I will report back what they did during the night. You got the most answers correct, so hopefully you will choose well and I can bring back some useful information."

The detective whispered into Lovejoy's ear a name, and he was off.
Morning Message – Day 8

Troy McClure was speeding home, planning to resign to his modernistic mansion after another day of long debates and hard decisions over whom to lynch next. However, his speed began to peter out, and he rolled to a stop on Springfield’s deserted, dark Main Street.

“What the?” he asked himself, kicking the footrest. He climbed out of the car to investigate the problem, but didn't need to look for too long. a line of petrol trailed down the entire street. He checked the fuel gauge to see the needle resting at ‘E’. Kicking the front wheel in rage, he pulled out his cell phone and called a cab.

“Hello. My name is Troy McClure and you may remember me from other breakdowns such as- “ and dropped the phone before he could finish. McClure fell to the ground and his ghostly form arose, turning around to the people standing, or possibly floating, in front of his lifeless body.

“Aha! It’s up! I've seen you!” he said, triumphant. Even though he had been killed, Troy would be able to tell everyone that he knew the identity of a villain.

“Not a problem,” the murderer said, calmly. A dark hand came and pulled Troy McClure from Limbo, as quickly as he entered it.


Later that evening, Duffman was sitting in his house in front of the TV, ready to watch the Super Bowl.

“Oh yeah!” he shouted with enthusiasm, taking a can of beer from his belt. Downing it quickly, another came and went. And another. Tipsy, and getting hungry, he stumbled towards the kitchen, where a giant feast of hot dogs and other various meats was waiting for him. The way he saw it, if you're gonna watch the Super Bowl at home, why not do it with some style? Along the way he noticed the front door was wide open. Confused, he shut the door and continued towards the kitchen.

“Go Patriots!” Duffman said, as his killers approached.

“Easy pickings.” Many things happened at once. A gunshot was heard, Duffman’s body fell to the ground, a translucent Duffman appeared, and a few footsteps could be heard stampeding out the door.


Reverend Lovejoy had stayed out all night outside of the chosen target’s house, but to no avail. There had been no activity surrounding the dwelling all night, and the sun was rising.

“Damn it…” Lovejoy muttered. At least they had something they could rule as innocent. He began to make his way back to the church to report his findings. He glided through the double doors of the church and made his way to the winner of the challenge he set out.

The Reverend whispered an inaudible sentence into the winner's ear, and he looked disappointed at the news.
Evening Message - Day 8

Six were left and tensions were at an all time high.

"We know one of you knows something," asserted Comic Book Guy. "Now who is it?"

"I know something," replied Duffman.

"Well? Someone speak up!" commanded Otto.

"I know something about Groundskeeper Willie," Duffman tried again.

"The Reverend gave information to someone," Hutz thought aloud. "Maybe it was Troy McClure."

Duffman sighed.

"Yeah, probably was Troy," agreed Moe.


Meanwhile, those in limbo were having their own crisis. They were having trouble deciding on one person to trust, even though their cup runneth over with souls.

"I don't trust anyone," said Rafael. "But if you don't trust me, I'll follow Johnny Tightlips outta here."

Roy looked around. "I trust Maggie the most, look how innocent she looks sitting there with her pacifier."

"Isn't she the one that shot Mr. Burns that one time?" asked Duffman. "She looks the most suspicious to me."


The reverend watched these discussions from a distance, and his mind wandered to an old fable:

There was once a Cat who was so watchful, that a Mouse hardly dared show the tip of his whiskers for fear of being eaten alive. That Cat seemed to be everywhere at once with his claws all ready for a pounce. At last the Mice kept so closely to their dens, that the Cat saw he would have to use his wits well to catch one. So one day he climbed up on a shelf and hung from it, head downward, as if he were dead, holding himself up by clinging to some ropes with one paw.

When the Mice peeped out and saw him in that position, they thought he had been hung up there in punishment for some misdeed. Very timidly at first they stuck out their heads and sniffed about carefully. But as nothing stirred, all trooped joyfully out to celebrate the death of the Cat.

Just then the Cat let go his hold, and before the Mice recovered from their surprise, he had made an end of three or four.

Now the Mice kept more strictly at home than ever. But the Cat, who was still hungry for Mice, knew more tricks than one. Rolling himself in flour until he was covered completely, he lay down in the flour bin, with one eye open for the Mice.

Sure enough, the Mice soon began to come out. To the Cat it was almost as if he already had a plump young Mouse under his claws, when an old Rat, who had had much experience with Cats and traps, and had even lost a part of his tail to pay for it, sat up at a safe distance from a hole in the wall where he lived.

"Take care!" he cried. "That may be a heap of meal, but it looks to me very much like the Cat. Whatever it is, it is wisest to keep at a safe distance."


Somehow amidst all the confusion and fear, two names were chosen, and the Springfielders hoped those names would be the last. Would the morning bring a rejuvenated Springfield, with full peace restored?

Or were they all doomed...
Morning Message - Day 9

That night was not a quiet night. While many souls relaxed peacefully, two did not.

Even with accusations flying everywhere and at least one villain on the loose, the majority of the town seemed to be in agreement over one thing: the guilt of Santa’s Little Helper. The dog's ghostly form floating in a small kennel, he remembered his last night alive.

“Ruff!” he barked, coming to the conclusion to visit Lionel Hutz that night. Pushing his head through the cat flap to check for any signs of life, his body followed and he headed out into the night, leaving the Simpsons’ backyard. As he swiftly pawed his way to Hutz’s dingy apartment, he had the strange sensation there was somebody, or some people, following him, heading to the same destination.

He climbed through the bushes behind a wire fence, peering out into the apartment’s window to see that Hutz was lazing on his armchair, asleep. Santa’s Little Helper prepared to jump the fence, but before he leaped, he heard two people quietly tiptoeing down the sidewalk. The dog lowered back into the bush, perking up his ears. He heard one of the two say, “I’ll send Hutz to limbo, then you quickly finish him off with the magic. They won’t have a clue what’s happened!”

“Okay, shall we make a move?” the second replied.

Santa’s Little Helper knew it was time to act. He sprung off of his hind legs, over the fence, and began to bark ferociously at the two murderers, snapping at their ankles.

“Run! Hide your face, we can’t have any witnesses, even if they are a dog!” said the first in a strained whisper, and the two sprinted away from the scene.

Santa's Little Helper snapped back to reality as a white light floated down, stopping right in front of his cage. It was warm and welcoming, and since the cage couldn't really hold him anyway he glided through the bars, and on to find the ultimate peace.

Lionel Hutz was not at peace. Despair came over him, along with anger and pride. I can't stay here after they accused me and killed me, he thought. When I am gone for good, and there are yet more murders during the night, they will all see.

He had stayed behind at the church after everyone left. The still-recharging magic mirror rested on the pulpit, unguarded and beckoning him. Without hesitation, he approached and pushed the red button. He did this completely unaware that it would not matter at all.


While most alive slept deeply, two did not.

A wicked smiled crossed Paul McCartney's face as he approached the elementary school. This was his night. First he would get Otto, then go for Willie. Paul had a gut feeling that one, maybe Willie, would betray the Springfielders. Then those innocent fools would have no chance, the town would be his. The soul of his partner had stayed home for this one night, having total faith in their victory.

Otto was sleeping on the top of his bus when Paul approached. The singer had a good angle from where he was standing, and took out a mini ray gun, aiming at Otto's head. Paul pulled the trigger.

But Otto was prepared for this. He had suspected Paul, and prepared for the ambush. Right as the ray gun fired, Otto lifted a deflector shield. The deadly ray bounced off the shield heading straight back towards Paul. The wicked smile stripped from the singer's face just before the ray caught the devil in his heart.


The next morning, Otto conveyed the news of the night to the remaining Springfielders, and no one besides Paul McCartney had fallen that night. They had done it, the Springfielders had removed the villainous threat, and the town was once again safe. Just one last step left, to destroy the magic mirror.

Reverend Lovejoy knew they would be coming for it. He approached the mirror and sighed. It was a marvelous invention, such a shame to smash it to pieces. Something moved in the reflection. He turned and saw Mr. Teeny standing inside the open door, lighting a cigarette. "Hey," he called out, about to tell the monkey no smoking in the church, but then paused. This reminded him of something. What was it?

Mr. Teeny approached the front the church, cigarette in his mouth, and came to stand beside the mirror looking at Lovejoy. He pointed to the red button on top.

"What?" Lovejoy asked, confused. "Do you want me to push it? But it hasn't been 24 hours..." he trailed off, gazing at the stained glass windows. Mr. Teeny moved and placed a metal object on the crimson carpet. The object spun round and round. The monkey stood up and Lovejoy noticed the red bow tie. The news story suddenly came back to him, causing him to remember just enough that the Reverend turned back to the mirror, and pushed the button.

The townsfolk were charging in, a few with hammers in hand, and saw Reverend Lovejoy being sucked into the mirror, heading for permanent death.


"Wake up, honey."

Lovejoy felt someone remove a band from his wrist, and opened his eyes. He could just make out Helen standing next to him. He lay in a hospital bed, with a bunch of other people looking down upon him. As his blurred vision became clear, he saw Comic Book Guy, Otto, Moe, and Willie holding Maggie.

"Did we get the murderers? Are they trapped in limbo? Shouldn't I be dead?" he asked, trying to remember what happened last.

"What are you talking about? There are no murderers, everything is fine here."

"Yeah Kang and Kodos tried to conquer the world, but we Springfielders resisted, until they gave up and ran away. You were very badly injured in the fighting, and doc put you in a coma while you healed.

"What? Where are Lisa, Selma, or even the Kalav Kalash vendor?"

"Did you forget? They went down in the rebellion. Along with a bunch of others. The aliens had a few spies amongst us, but we got 'em all."

Lovejoy turned his head to see another bed in his room. Mr. Teeny lay immobile, and a nearby machine indicated a steady heartbeat.

"Doc put him a coma as well. Caught a bad shot, but should pull through."

Lovejoy took a moment to process all the information. He looked at Comic Book Guy and asked, "so that's it, the town is safe?"

Comic Book Guy looked back at Lovejoy and replied, "for now, but I have a feeling this kinda thing may happen again very soon."
Congratulations Springfielders!


jae_bazz [Comic Book Guy] (regular Springfielder)
pollardfreek [Otto Mann] (Rival)
yukongirl123 [Moe Szyslak] (Doppelgänger)
Aiddan [Groundskeeper Willie] (Traitor)
Corrcorrcorr [Maggie Simpson] (Grim Reaper)


stingray1122 [Lisa Simpson] (regular Springfielder)
SirLance_Elot [Johnny Tightlips] (regular Springfielder)
juliet603 [Roy] (regular Springfielder)
urlaub694 [Gerald the Unibrow Baby] (regular Springfielder)
brandonl1226 [Troy Mcclure] (regular Springfielder)
johnny50373 [Lionel Hutz] (regular Springfielder)

annettemarc [Selma Bouvier] (Tonguetangler)
kyaray [Santas little Helper] (Protector)
crosby357 [Sideshow Bob] (Dyslexic Bookkeeper)
eliansukke180 [Khlav Kalash vendor] (Politician)
MaxxSpider [Raphael the Sarcastic Clerk] (Rival)

henpot7514 [Ned Flanders] (Villain, partnered with wij)
Wijsheid [Duffman] (Villain, partnered with hen)
wilki1999 [Ralph Wiggum] (Villain, partnered with lynn)
lynnmckenz82 [Paul McCartney] (Villain, partnered with wilki)


  • jae_bazz
    5730 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    First. :lol:
  • Wijsheid
    9653 posts Member
    edited January 2015
  • stingray1122
    8717 posts Member
    edited January 2015
  • jae_bazz
    5730 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    :lol: Wij. Did you even have time to read the story before you cast your first vote?
  • Wijsheid
    9653 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    jae_bazz wrote:
    :lol: Wij. Did you even have time to read the story before you cast your first vote?

    I just did what needed to be done. Now i am gonna read the story.
  • MaxxSpider
    5465 posts Member
    edited January 2015
  • barrymcerlea
    2095 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    Wijsheid wrote:
    Just to clarify: edited votes are allowed as long as the follow the same rule as Wij's game. If the vote is edited before 10 minutes has passed from the original post time, it will be valid.
    This message was brought to you by the GL
  • mr_skeltal_80
    18104 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    Khlav Kalash! Get your Khlav Kalash!

    Oh, and ++Wilki1999
  • Wijsheid
    9653 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    Khlav Kalash! Get your Khlav Kalash!

    I will take to. Might spice things up at the rear. OH YEAH
  • stingray1122
    8717 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    2 votes for wilki and he hasn't even posted yet

    EDIT: 3 votes

  • jae_bazz
    5730 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    Hmmm. Starting a bandwagon less than 3 minutes after the morning message was posted? That's definitely suspicious behavior. :hunf:

  • henpot7514
    6010 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    Hi-diddily-ho neighboureenos! :D
  • mr_skeltal_80
    18104 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    Wijsheid wrote:
    Khlav Kalash! Get your Khlav Kalash!

    I will take to. Might spice things up at the rear. OH YEAH

    Crab juice?
  • annettemarc
    7747 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    I read the end of that story too quickly. I thought it said to" lynch whoever has written the most even if there is no evidence against them."

    My immediate thought was "Limbo, here I come."

    Selma has nothing more to say at this time. For the moment, she remains silent. Skeptical. But silent. :)
    USA/UK Race To Throw Country Into Utter Chaos = TOO CLOSE TO CALL
  • Wijsheid
    9653 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    Wilki dead yet?
  • lynnmckenz82
    2611 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    All we are saying is give peace a chance. No, wait, that was John. All I'm saying is don't rush to convict anyone just yet. Oh, and don't eat meat. :-)
    Imagine there's a signature image here.--Lynn McKenzie
  • Wijsheid
    9653 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    Some confessions would be nice
  • ianmia
    9201 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    Wijsheid wrote:
    Khlav Kalash! Get your Khlav Kalash!

    I will take to. Might spice things up at the rear. OH YEAH

    Crab juice?
  • wilki1999
    3965 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    Going to keep the posting to a minimum until I can change my avatar (easier on my computer) but all I can say is it felt strange making the end last time :lol: at least I know people haven't forgotten how to vote for me. As much as I'd like to be a villain, I'm afraid I'm still cursed as an innocent springfielder. Hope blue and Barry give us a cool twist like wijsheids hgame. We'll have to wait and see. Let's see if we can find them villains. Let's do a game first and lynch one on the first day for once :lol:
  • Wijsheid
    9653 posts Member
    edited January 2015
    Hi Ralph.

    You are under age, but Wiggum is not looking. Have a Duff. Or three! OH YEAH
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