“Simpsonized”

c. 2007 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(8-07)




“Ready to work some yellow magic?”
- www.simpsonsmovie.com


It was a busy afternoon in the Ice household. We had just finished a lunch of chicken nuggets and homemade fries, when Quigley the Pomeranian began to sound off with excitement.
“Yip yip yip!” he barked.
My wife was puzzled. “What’s gotten into him?”
Soccer Fairy, our nine-year-old, got up from the kitchen table. She was perturbed. “Quiggy! Hey, what’s wrong with you?”
On the television was a living cartoon. “Come to Springfield! See the Simpsons movie and become one yourself!”
“Wow!” Fairy cheered. “Mommy, do you see that?”
Liz nodded. “That reminds me of the M & M promotion. What a nice gimmick!”
“Sure,” I agreed. “But it took them twenty years to think of it?”
Soccer Fairy frowned. “The Simpsons are that old??”
My wife nodded. “Yes, but it doesn’t matter. I love the idea!”
I joined them in the living room. “Your candy-ized versions of the family were cool, I’ll admit. But making us look like Simpons for an encore?”
Quigley hid his eyes. “Yowf!”
Liz sat down at the computer. “I can’t resist! This will be fun.”
I changed the television channel to ESPN after getting a brew. “Have your fun. I’ll just catch some game highlights.”
The computer monitor went yellow. Then, a start page appeared. It read: “Create your own avatar.” Giggles began to fill the air.
“This is great,” Liz said. “You start with a basic body profile.”
From across the room, I watched her click through various physical dimensions. “Slender… medium build… husky… extra-large…”
She clicked on the most rotund illustration.
“Heyy!” I protested. “Why do you have to start with that body type??”
My wife snorted. “It’s just a cartoon.”
Next was a selection of eyes. She clicked on a pair with square glasses.
“Okay, that’s a fair choice,” I agreed.
Following this was a selection of noses. “Small… pointy… hooked… round… fully-developed…”
She chose a plus-sized honker.
“Come on,” I protested. “Do I get any kind of a break here??”
Liz pointed her finger. “Do you want this to look like you, or not?”
“Actually, I don’t want it at all,” I said.
Soccer Fairy squealed with delight. “Keep going, Mommy!”
Quigley disappeared under the couch.
My wife clicked through mouth shapes and expressions. She picked a relaxed smile that fit well under the extended nose.
“Okay?” she asked impatiently.
“Sure,” I said. “It’s just a cartoon, right?”
Next came wardrobe choices. My wife immediately clicked on a black T-shirt.
“Well?” she said with a stare.
“No argument on that,” I said.
“Of course not,” she teased. “Since you won’t wear the pink shirt I bought you!”
“I would if it wasn’t at the bottom of Grumpy’s litter box,” I said.
She squawked like a mad hen. “Rodney!”
“At least the cat put it to good use,” I laughed.
Liz went red.
Soccer Fairy pointed at the screen to distract her from my comment. “So, what’s next, Mom?”
My wife spun in her chair. “Oh… yes… pants. Those would be blue jeans, of course.”
“Of course,” Fairy agreed.
“And then, black boots,” Liz concluded.
“Clomp, clomp, clomp,” Fairy said while cupping her hands.
I considered the image for a moment. “Are you satisfied?”
Liz clicked on ‘save’ while admiring her work. “I’d say it’s a fine bit of computer animation, my darling!”
My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Okay, then. Well done. Who’s next?”
She rubbed her eyes.
“Well, I think it would be very tough to top a work of art like this…”
“Yes…” I agreed. “So, are you finished?”
She shook her head. “No, it needs something more. But… what?”
Quigley peeked out from under the couch. “Yap yap!”
“How about a touch of the ‘delete’ button?” I suggested.
Soccer fairy giggled.
“No,” Liz said analytically. “You need… a guitar!”
I couldn’t restrain a chuckle. “True, it just doesn’t look right without one.”
My wife typed ‘cartoon guitar’ into Google.
“Let’s see,” she said, while clicking through entries. “Flying V, Les Paul, Explorer, Stratocaster, Jazzmaster…”
“Jazzmaster,” I said.
She concurred. “Okay. This sort of looks like a Fender guitar.”
My eyes went wide open. “Davie Allan plays a Jazzer. I’ve got to have one, too.”
“Cartoon guitars are fine. Just no more real ones!” she said.
I grumbled under my breath. “Gotta have a Jazzmaster. Someday.”
Soccer Fairy covered her face. “We’re running out of room!”
Liz took a deep breath. “Perfection! This is just too good. We ought to share it, you know? I’ll bet everybody would want a copy.”
“What??” I protested. “Stop talking like that!”
“I’m serious,” she said.
I almost spilled my beer. “Come on, Honey. Just click out of there and…”
Before I could get across the room, she was composing an e-mail message. Her fingers typed feverishly. “ISN’T HE HANDSOME?’
“Sweetie, please!” I begged. “You’ve had your fun. No need to spread that picture around the galaxy…”
My wife was determined. She added address after address.
“Liz!” I pleaded. “Show your man some mercy!”
Soccer Fairy giggled so hard that tears were streaming from her eyes. “Mommy, you’re so crazy! I love you!!”
Quigley burrowed deep into hidden treasures behind the couch. “Yowwwl!”
I leaped like a linebacker in pursuit. “Noooooooooo!”
She clicked the ‘send’ icon as I slipped sideways, on a throw rug. My beverage went airborne. There was a thud as I hit the floor, on my back.
The PC emitted a delicate ‘ping.’ Her message had been dispatched.
Liz sat straight up in her chair. “Are you okay?”
My eyes were closed, tightly. “I’m good. Just let me lay here until the room stops spinning.”
Quigley crawled out from his hiding spot. He began to nuzzle my ear. “Yowf??”
“It’s okay, buddy,” I said. “Just having a quick nap on the carpet.”
Soccer Fairy took my hand. “I’ll help you up!” She tugged without success.
My wife covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, Rodney!”
“Well, you’ve made M & M people, and now a Simpsons character,” I reflected while staring at our ceiling. “What can you do to top that?”
She knelt down, and rubbed my forehead. “I mean it! I’m sorry…”
“You could makes us look like Flintstones? Or Spongebob Squarepants? Danny Phantom? The Proud Family? The Fairly Odd Parents? Go on, make your selection…”
Fairy was impressed with the possibilities. “Wow, we could have fun doing all that Mommy!”
I groaned. “But next time we do a picture of you guys. Leave me out of it.”
“Fine,” Liz conceded. “That’s fair.”
“Anyway, you’d look great with a hairstyle like Marge Simpson,” I observed.
Soccer Fairy squealed. “Oh Mommy! What an idea! You’ll be famous!”
Quigley went back into hiding.
“And don’t forget to send that around to everyone, as well,” I said.
My wife nodded. “Sure thing, Homer.”

FROM THE GEAUGA COUNTY MAPLE LEAF, CHARDON, OHIO