“Look out below! Coming down,” he continued while sliding.
“Made it I see,” Marty greeted him nonchalantly. “My new personal shadow.”
Roger Pine Ridge walked over. “Whatchadoing?”
Marty has wife Marg bludgeon Homer with a weighted purse to begin, then answers. “Trying, ahem (death of Boss Burns now with purse), to figure out the clue Duncan Avocado got from this game.”
“Avocado.” Marty has Willy walk up to Marg and belch in her face, then steal her deadly purse and kill Mo the bartender with it. Quick as a wink.
“Well I say. Listen, how much longer are you going to be here? In this, er, *firehouse*?”
“I am the fireman,” Marty states plainly. “As long as I wish — this is my project.” Death to Principle Poop now.
“O-kay.” Roger Pine Ridge tries to decide how to exit gracefully from this awkward situation. He was tailing Marty to this Eveningwood place, true, but didn’t expect him to be engrossed in anything like this, and declare it was totally a situation of his concoction and that he had everything under control. Fires rage outside! But here he was, cool and calm and collected, like it was pouring down rain all over the countryside.
“Just — gotta — find — the ragamuffin.” Many bleeping noises now. “*There*” Skateboarding Bart Smipson got run over by a doughnut truck headed to Homer’s.
Roger Pine Ridge decides to wait on the roof. Everything seemed familiar. He stares out at the Eveningwood cityscape realizing there were were no raging fires and that Marty was right and he had everything under control, at least here. The light side of the moon rose over the horizon. Yes, must have been a trace of that brain damage he feared so much, the other, thought-to-be-left-behind Roger leaking in a bit.
Marty beams up, beaming. “Found it!”