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That's odd. He's outside, digging. | Probably digging for drugs. |
There's no drugs out there. | No. Of course not. |
EXT. SIMPSON BACK YARD - A little later) | Don't worry, Marge. I'll find out what he's up to. Kids shouldn't have secrets. |
EXT. SIMPSON BACK YARD - A little later) | Oh hello, young man. Beautiful day for digging, isn't it? |
Yep. | Yeah, uh, digging for anything in particular? |
Nuh-uh. | So, I guess you wouldn't mind if I was to dig a hole of my own. |
Go for it. | Maybe I will. |
What's stopping you? | Very little. |
What's stopping you? | I'm having chest pains! |
What's stopping you? | Where's the defibrillator? |
What's stopping you? | Clear! |
What's stopping you? | This thing pays for itself. |
But Morlocks are from the future. | You callin' me a liar, Carl? |
Yeah. How'd you know the Chinese were spyin' on ya? | Oh, I just naturally assumed. |
Ah, quitcher bellyaching, coffee boy. You're lucky I let ya in here. | Geez Moe, you've been a real crank lately. |
You take that back. | Now, ya see, that's what I'm talkin' about. You're always pointing that shotgun at us. |
But, can you blame me? Every day it's the same old routine. I serve you drinks, you yak on and on and on, and I never get one stinkin' tip. | Maybe we'd tip you if you'd smile once in a while. |
Ah, who am I kiddin'? I ain't smiled for real since I nailed that rat with the ice pick. Ha, remember that? | That was an amazing throw. |
Ahh! How did I lose my passion for the job? When I was in bartending school, I thought I had the world by the jigger. | Hey, where'd that painting come from? |
But who'll run the bar while you're gone? | Ooh, ooh, pick me! |
... And if anybody wants potato chips or anything fancy, tell 'em to go to hell. | Can do. Now don't you worry about a thing. |
Hey, what are you doin'? I gotta pay for that! | No Moe. You've got it all wrong. People buy beer from you. |
All right, look, I-I gotta go. | I thought you said you had to go. |
Hey Homer, do you mind if I bring in some outside food? | Oh, I don't know. What would Moe say about that? |
Hey Homer, do you mind if I bring in some outside food? | But on the other hand, Moe's not here. |
Sorry. Sorry. | For what? A little splattered food never hurt anybody. Now everybody shut up and dance! |
Hey, what happened to the music? | Don't worry. You gotta hit it just right. Like Fonzie. |
Hey, what happened to the music? | Ayyy! |
Hey, what happened to the music? | Oh! Whoa! Hemorrhage-amundo! |
Are you gonna be okay? | Ayyy. |
Yell out "I'll eat a booger." | What's the gag? |
Hey, Homer. | You dirty teen. |
Hey, Homer stop, stop! It's me! Geez. | Moe? Wrecking Moe's bar? |
Hey, Homer stop, stop! It's me! Geez. | Wow, well I I almost fainted, but then I didn't. What are you doing? |
My Professor said if I prettied up this dump, it would renew my zeal. | And it would look pretty, too. |
I am Formico. The Dean of Design. | Hi, Formico. |
Ah, ah, ah! My name must never be spoken. | Sorry. He seems nice. |
Just leave the bottle. | There you go, doll. |
Just leave the bottle. | Look, buddy, I don't care where you go, but you can't sleep here. |
Wow, check out the new Moe's. | Wow, It looks like an alien headquarters. Couldn't you just see aliens runnin' out of there? Couldn't ya? Hey, wait up. |
Uh, looks like a long wait to get in. | Not for friends of Moe's. |
Is your name on the list? | Don't you know who I am? |
It's okay, Cecil. They're VIPs. | Cecil is a girl's name. |
Yeah, ya like it, Homer? | Um... the rabbits are cute. |
Ain't it trippy? | Ah, whatever. Just give me a Duff. |
We don't serve Duff no more. We got a Malaysian beer that's better than Duff... It's made outta soy sauce. | Ah, whatever. Just give me a Duff. |
Models?! Ha. Oh boy! | Okay, look cool. |
This is creative design run amok! | That's it! |
This is creative design run amok! | I'm gonna tell Moe exactly what I think of his... |
And "penis" is Russian for... | Moe, we want our bar back. |
Eh, you'd be having a great time if you'd stayed in your dark spot. | Oh, so you're ashamed of us. Well, you've turned into a big phony. |
Is it? Oh, well that's it. That's-- Dagmar, Julian, throw this bum out. | I'll throw myself out, thank you. |
Is it? Oh, well that's it. That's-- Dagmar, Julian, throw this bum out. | I believe I had a hat. |
Is it? Oh, well that's it. That's-- Dagmar, Julian, throw this bum out. | Suckers! |
Whatcha doin', Dad? | I think it's pretty obvious. I'm turning our garage into a tavern. The kind Moe's used to be. |
This is pretty far to go just to spite Moe. | It's not about spite. It's about petty revenge and getting back at that traitor Moe. Now help me nail up this urinal. |
This is pretty far to go just to spite Moe. | Beautiful. |
Running a bar is a full-time job and you don't even do your full-time job. | But when I'm passionate about something, I see it through to the end. |
I WON'T DRINK AT MOE'S / HOMER'S OLD GARAGE IS ALL I NE-ED / I WON'T DRINK AT MOE'S... | 'CAUSE MOE'S A BIG JERK AND A SHE-MALE TOO! |
I thought this was gonna be your bar. | It's the family bar. Right, kids? |
Can we go to bed now? | As soon as you finish cutting up those lemons. |
But you're not even using them. | She's so sleepy, she doesn't know what she's saying. Hee, hee. |
How'd you get REM to play in your garage? | I told them it was a benefit. They think they're saving the rainforest. |
What the-- You can't open your own bar! | Seems to me I already did. |
But it's illegal! You can't run a bar in a private residence. | Bar? I see no bar. This is a hunting club...Which is permitted by state law "to serve beverages of a refreshing nature." |
Ah, here we go. It also says, "a licensed hunting club must actively engage in the sport of hunting." | Which I'll be doing tomorrow morning, smart guy. |
Hunting? Dad, no! | Lemons... |
It's not fair, Dad. Why should an animal die just because you and Moe are fighting? | It's the law. My hands are tied. |
It's not fair, Dad. Why should an animal die just because you and Moe are fighting? | Okay, cranberry sauce, stuffing, potatoes. Come on, turkey. Join your friends. |
Do you really think the turkey's just gonna climb onto the plate? | I would. |
You do? Then I like you, too. Here, have a towelette. | Here, turkey, turkey... Turkey, turkey, turkey, turkey, turkey... |
You do? Then I like you, too. Here, have a towelette. | Nobody's gonna kill you. |
You did it, Moe! | A cougar! Die, cougar! |
My leg! Aww, geez! | Got that cat right in the leg. |
Dad, you shot Moe! | Oh, no! This time I really am gonna faint! |
Dad, you shot Moe! | Son of a... |
Exactly. | I'm sorry I shot you, Moe. |
Aw, I'm glad you two are friends again so we can all have Thanksgiving dinner together in this bar. | Hey, who invited the hippies? |
I did. You owe REM an apology for, eco-fraud. | All right, I'm sorry... but I will not save the rainforest. |
Oh, come on, Bart. Smell those curds! Mmmmm, curds. | And I'm thankful I get to spend Thanksgiving with my family, these alternative rockers, and my favorite bartender. |
Ah, here you go, pal. | And here you go. |
Fortune cookie. | Ah. And now to read my fortune. "Geese can be troublesome." What the hell is that supposed to mean? |
Oh... Fortune means: Geese cause problems. | Well, I knew that before I came in here. A guy outside told me that. |
"Every house has a bathroom." | Oh, these fortunes are terrible. |
Is there a problem? | These fortunes are terrible. They're supposed to predict stuff, and ease you through times of doubt and sickness. |
Well, with all due respect, sir, I suppose you could come up with better fortunes? | Easy. |
Well? | "You will be aroused by a shampoo commercial." |
Show them. | Okay, let's see... "The price of stamps will climb ever higher." |
Please, Yung Mee was a hack compared to this guy. | Let's see. "You will invent a humorous toilet lid." "You will find true love on Flag Day." "Your store is being robbed, Apu." Are you getting all this, Lisa? |
I'm sorry, Monty... | Stop that dog! It has my gum! |
Look, there's one of my young chums now. You there! | Yes, Mr. Burns. |
Tell my young sweetheart here of our youthful exploits. | Ummm... |
Play along, Chubsy. There's a pie in it for you. | Oh! Yeah. Monty's a wild man! Yeah! |
Play along, Chubsy. There's a pie in it for you. | Oh. He ran his own casino, stole the Loch Ness Monster, got shot by a baby, and blotted out the sun. |
Well... | C'mon, he's a total player. |
Where did you get that pie? | Windowsill. |
New underpants? Homer, what are you up to? | Burns wants me to come along on his date, to show him where hip young people go. |
Well, don't look too hip. You don't want that girl falling for you. | You're right. |
Well, don't look too hip. You don't want that girl falling for you. | These would stop Joan Collins herself. |
D-- Oh, uh, constantly. When we're not being kicked out for our rowdy, youthful behavior! Eh, pally? | Yep, no one's rowdier and more youthful than old man Burns. |
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