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To say Krusty looked pitiful would be an understatement. His green hair, usually upturned and well kept for appearances, was a drooping, uncombed mess, accompanied by a grizzly five o clock shadow. The man had obviously slept in the tux he’d picked out for his father’s funeral the previous day and the crumpled, untucked shirt was stained with something Lois guessed to be alcohol, if his pungent breath was any indication.
“Listen, you jerk, I’ll give ya to the count o’ ONE to get the hell off my– Oh, it’s just you,” Krusty grunted, leaning heavily against the door frame as he recognized the petite woman. The anger faded from his bloodshot eyes, but the dull haze of disinterest that replaced it wasn’t much better. Lois’ fingers tightened around her purse as she fought to keep her nerve under his stare.
“So, what is it, Pennycandy? Is Fat Tony demanding his money? Wouldn’t put it past the mob, taking advantage of people’s misery...Oy!”
“No, sir. I’m sorry to disturb you. I just wanted— needed to check on you, being your personal assistant and all.“
“Well, I’m doing great! Yeah, just peachy. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna get back to my hangover. Goodbye.”
“W-wait! There’s something else,” Lois braced her hand against the door before he could shut it. At his immediate indignant frown, she quickly added, “It’ll only take a minute, I promise.”
Krusty paused before running a hand tiredly over his face.
“Oh, alright. Let’s get this over with,” He turned and shuffled into the house. Lois took that as her cue to follow, shutting the door behind her.
It was just as Lois had expected. Empty bottles of duff lay on the living room table and floor, the lingering contents of some spilling out on the expensive rug. Krusty knocked a few magazines and wadded up tissues to the floor before dropping his weight gracelessly onto the couch. Lois carefully stepped over the trash and settled herself next to her boss, smoothing her skirt.
“Well..?”
A brief dip into the contents of her purse produced the reason for her visit.
“I know it isn’t much, but I thought you should have this,” Lois said, meekly pushing a small stack of photographs into Krusty’s hands. He snorted.
“Just couldn’t wait to show me the latest dirt the paparazzi’s got on me, huh? Well, let’s see what the damage is this time,” Krusty shrugged and examined the top photo, lip curled with disdain. His face softened almost instantly.
“Hold up… this is me and Papa at The Singing Sirloin!” Krusty said, voice soft with confusion, “You mean to tell me those scumbags were following us on his birthday??”
“I took those, Krusty,” Lois assured him, “You requested that I make sure your dinner and spa reservations were on track, remember? Your father saw me that day and asked that I take a few photos for him during dinner.”
“But Papa didn’t tell me… I ain’t even smiling in some o’ these,” Krusty mumbled, thumbing through the photos with interest. “Hey, I’m still stuffin’ my face in this one! What gives??”
“I suppose he liked it when you weren’t ‘on’. You’re a bit more natural,” Lois smiled encouragingly, gently moving Krusty’s fingers from blocking his face on the current photo. Hyman Krustofsky was gesturing at something on his dinner plate, talking animatedly as Krusty listened with an amused grin, chin resting on his gloved fist. “See?”
“Huh. Well, I can’t pretend to understand everything my old man did,” Krusty admitted, but he was smiling a little. “Hell, it’s not like we ever agreed anyway. Stubborn as a jammed cannon I tell ya!”
They shared a chuckle at that, losing themselves in the next few photographs.
“Still… wish he didn’t have to go,” Krusty said suddenly, his smile fading, “I never did get to tell him I… that I…”
He seemed unable to speak; Lois gently placed a hand on his arm.
“Sometimes what we say isn’t as important as what we do,” Lois said firmly, gazing intently at Krusty. He looked up and she could see the pain in his eyes, the regret of things unsaid.
“Your father was a very wise man, Krusty. He loved you very much and I’m sure he knew in his heart that you loved him.” She finished, squeezing his arm as if to emphasize her confidence in her words.
“Yeah…” He sighed, eyes slipping down to the photos again.
Krusty’s fingers were trembling as he flipped to the last photograph, one of himself hugging his father. The clown swallowed and opened his mouth but all that came out was a shuddery sob. Lois’ arms were around him in an instant, his face buried in her shoulder.
They remained like that for a long moment, Lois embracing him, stroking his back and soothing his muffled cries. This wasn’t the first time she had consoled him like this and so she had a pretty good idea of what to expect next. When he was all cried out, he would draw back and act as If it hadn’t happened, and send her away. That was fine with her, she had fulfilled her mission of delivering the photographs, and she only hoped that Krusty felt just a bit better, having confided in someone.
“Thanks,” Krusty’s voice was hoarse next to her ear. Lois paused for a moment, surprised.
“You’re welcome,” She gave his back one last reassuring pat before he peeled himself away, looking exhausted as he rubbed at his reddened eyes, slumping back on the couch again. She felt the sudden desperate urge to stay, make sure he took a bath, combed his hair, changed out of those godforsaken clothes…
And why not? She was his personal assistant.
“Do you have a trashcan around here?”
“Yeah, in the hallway. Why?”
She said nothing, simply left and returned with the bin in hand. Wordlessly, she stooped to collect the empty duff bottles.
“Hey hey— what are you doing?” Krusty asked, sitting up and staring as if she’d lost her mind.
“Just a little cleaning. I can’t stand to see you in the middle of all this.”
“But the maid’ll be in tomorrow. Besides, it’s your day off. You could be in a million other places – why in the world would you want to be here, cleaning up this crap?”
“Because we’re friends, Krusty,” Lois said quietly. She couldn’t fit anymore bottles into the wastebasket. Perhaps she would find a garbage bag in the kitchen, which actually gave her an idea.
“Do you want something to eat?”
Krusty’s eyes met hers, questioning. She felt herself flush.
“I mean, if you want me to leave, I completely understand! I just thought it might— help, maybe?” She continued, babbling now. “I could pick something up, or cook something myself if you like. And I wouldn’t mind if you, if you wanted to talk more. About your father or anything at all. You’re not alone, Krusty.”
She paused, her heart beating a little quicker after such bold statements. Krusty seemed to be turning her offer over in his mind, eyes flicking from Lois to the photographs in his hand. Finally, he shrugged.
‘Well… I guess I could go for Chinese. If my head ever stops feeling like a monkey’s hitting it with a hammer.” Krusty grumbled, rubbing at his temples.
“I’ve got some painkillers in my purse.” Lois cheerfully offered, already sifting through her bag.
“Heh, you’re a pretty good friend, Pennycandy,” Krusty said suddenly, sounding amused, “I can see why Papa always liked you.”
Lois looked up, but Krusty was sifting through the photographs again as if he hadn’t said anything. She knew Krusty’s father had approved of her, he’d told her himself once, but hearing it from Krusty was different altogether. Could it mean…?
Well, she had all the time in the world to mull that over. For now, she would do her best to help her boss, her friend, recover from his hangover and, hopefully, a little of his heartache. And help, she did.