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Here are some supervised activities we can all do together. Future Veterans of Foreign Wars, The 5-H Club... | Five-H? |
You won't be seeing Milhouse for a while. Something about that boy just shakes up your soda. Ooh, this looks interesting: The Pre-Teen Braves. | Hey, these freaks do a lot of cool stuff. "Cookouts, hayrides, bowling..." |
Dad, maybe you could lead Bart's tribe. | You mean like some sort of madman? |
Ideally no, but... | I'll do it! |
Ideally no, but... | I will now give each of you your specially selected tribal name. |
I am "Burger With Fries." Man, is that uninspired. | Let's see. What Native American activities should we do? Making wallets... faking crop circles... respecting nature... jeez, no wonder these guys lost the Civil War. |
Hey, Lazy Horse! Find us something cool to do. | The noble Chiefs outsmarted the treacherous Cowboys with a seven-yard screen pass. Unfortunately, after further review, the great father in the sky determined that the receiver's moccasins were out of bounds. I shall bet no more forever. |
I smell smoke. | Without the talking stick, we don't hear you. |
Well, thank you. I'm gonna make sure you boys have the best possible Pre-Teen Brave experience. | But I was chosen by the Great Spirit to teach these young braves the ways of the antelope and the ear of corn... which we call maize... that the papoose... eh, I'll be at Moe's talking normal. |
And now the land weeps. | Hey, treadmill! How do you like this incline? |
And now the land weeps. | Uh, I'm giving it back to the earth. |
"We will crush you and smother your dreams. Yours in Christ, the Cavalry Kids." | Marge, you were an excellent peace-time Chief. But these times call for men of cruelty. |
"We will crush you and smother your dreams. Yours in Christ, the Cavalry Kids." | Oh, it's too tight! Take it off! Take it off! Take it off! |
"We will crush you and smother your dreams. Yours in Christ, the Cavalry Kids." | Men of cruelty. |
Get your un-poisoned candy! | It's laxative-free for today's lifestyle! |
Oh, the indignity! | Wait a minute. How could those stupid jar-heads win? |
At least we made a lot of people sick. | Well I'm not finished. Where does it say we have to be gracious in defeat? |
It's on the back of our vests. | Marge, remove that stitching. |
VIP? That's us! | People will do anything a sign tells them. |
VIP? That's us! | Boy, that slaked my thirst. |
VIP? That's us! | Or did it? |
Pound him, Milhouse! | You talk pretty tough for a man without health insurance! |
C'mon, we're gonna be late to the blooming of the Sumatran Century Flower. | How come Lisa always gets to pick the family activities? |
Because I know every time you say "pick a number from one to ten," it's always seven. | That's because there were seven apostles. |
No, there were twelve. | Boy, that's a big staff. And still he wasn't that funny. |
"The Venus Flytrap is a carnivorous plant which uses bait to lure unsuspecting prey into its digestive tract..." | Stupid prey. They never suspect anything. |
"The Venus Flytrap is a carnivorous plant which uses bait to lure unsuspecting prey into its digestive tract..." | Ooo, a hotdog! |
Dad, the traffic's moving. | Woo-hoo! Pedal to the metal! |
My baby! | Your baby! |
Whaaa--? | Moe! Thank God you saved my baby... |
Ain't she adorable. | Oh my God, I'm late for work. |
Ball pit, that's nice. One, two, three colors -- you got 'em all. | It's Patty, chump! |
Well, I have so much free time now that Moe's our babysitter. | Yeah, it's great that she's got a father-figure in her life. She--hey wait, that's supposed to be me! |
You could be my father figure. | No way! I'm not gettin' my fingerprints on that train wreck. But if I lose Maggie, I'm oh-for-three. I've gotta get her back. |
I can help you. | I said, pipe down, Amtrak. |
Yeah, sure he was, Nahasapasa-Imraisin'apervert. | Back off, Moe. Maggie wants to be with me. |
Yeah, sure he was, Nahasapasa-Imraisin'apervert. | This is how we play. THE SQUIRMY WORMY SPIDER / SQUIRTS OUT OF DADDY'S HANDS... |
I peed my pants. | I recorded that for private use! |
I had to. It's so weird watching the video and not getting any sound. | That's it, Moe. This is just too weird. You are not allowed to see Maggie anymore. |
Eh? Eh? | Get your own family, Moe. |
Hey, you never cared about Maggie 'til I started paying attention to her. Last night at the bar you called her "Raquel." | Get out! |
Is that uh, "get out" like leave, or "get out" as in: "Get out. You banged Bridget Fonda?" | Get out! |
Now, there'll be no more trouble from that meddlesome bartender. | Yeah. You know, looking at this sweet precious child makes me want to have one of our own. |
Maggie's gone! | It must have been Moe! |
Well, it looks like Maggie crawled through these bushes, spit up over here, and crashed her tricycle into the wall. | Uh, no, that was me. |
Listen, I think we might have to make a trip to Little Italy. | I'll get our little passports. |
Maggie's right in the middle of that Italian-American-Mexican standoff! | Oh my God, I've gotta save her! |
No, no, don't try to stop me. | We're not. Your sleeve got caught on that tree. Here, let me unhook ya. |
No, no, don't try to stop me. | Off you go. |
Thanks, Moe. I'm sorry we thought you were a baby-napper. | Or worse, am I right? |
I don't think Maggie wants you out of her life, Moe. | Moe, I was just thinking, if Maggie and I were in the neighborhood, maybe we could drop by and have a playdate with you... and your ham. |
Will everyone please stop fighting and burning! | Never! |
Will everyone please stop fighting and burning! | Beat the lumps. Beat the lumps. Beat the lumps. |
I am Death! | Death? We don't want any. |
Your time is up, Bart Simpson. | This is for Snowball One and JFK! |
Dad, do you realize what you've done? You've created a world without Death. | Does this mean they'll never cancel the Jim Belushi Show? |
I guess so. | Nooooo! |
Homer, it's trash day. Will you just take him out to the curb? | I'll curb him... without enthusiasm. |
Homer, it's trash day. Will you just take him out to the curb? | Ooo, this robe's pretty soft. |
Homer, it's trash day. Will you just take him out to the curb? | Check it out! I finally found a dead guy's clothes that fit me! |
Dad, you've become the new Grim Reaper! | No way. Forget it. I might occasionally kill out of anger, or to illustrate a point, but I am not a Grim Reaper. |
Dad, you've become the new Grim Reaper! | Ow! I'll reap! I'll reap already! |
Where's the regular guy? Where's Doug? | Never mind. I'm Death now. |
Oh man, these seats suck. | Leave everything to me. |
Oh man, these seats suck. | Pardon me, comin' through, rest in peace, you're dead... Take an dirt nap. Feed the worms... |
Oh man, these seats suck. | Hm. |
Dad, were all those people on the list? | I'unno. |
No! | Come on! |
All right. | Woo-hoo! |
Thanks for not killing me, Homie. Here's an extra pork chop. | I'm gonna not kill you every week. |
Sir, I'm honored to inform you that you've won the Nobel Prize. | The Nobel Prize! Finally. So, uh it's for what, my whole deal? |
This is Professor John Frink, isn't it? | If I say no, do I still win? |
And I thought Halle Berry went nuts during her acceptance speech. | I wish I was Death again. That was cool. |
Behold the perpetrators! | It was those guys! |
Why can't I tinker with the fabric of existence? | Let the baby have her bottle. |
What happens if I press this button? | Lisa! |
Sorry, sorry, sorry! | Okay, that's good! Stop there! |
Don't go inside -- it's a trap! | Yeah, she must have some kind of super-chore in there! Like getting the rat out of Maggie's room! |
"Mayor unveils erection to cheering crowd." This week's "Oops Patrol" T-shirt goes to... | Whom? Whom? |
Mom made the Oops Patrol! Hot damn! | Bart, you're not at school. Don't swear! |
It could always be a little better. | Honey, this is your moment in the sun. And I couldn't be more pleased for your happiness. |
It could always be a little better. | Why was I born? |
Dad, the word's "desert." And those farmers are suffering! | From what, too much hot fudge? Huh? C'mon Bart, show me some love! |
Don't drag me down with you, old man. | This is what happens when I go for six hours without sleep. |
Don't drag me down with you, old man. | "Peace talks break down." No. "For sale, Ford Festiva..." I'll put that in the "maybes." I gotta get that T-shirt. |
Don't drag me down with you, old man. | World's Biggest Pizza?! |
Don't drag me down with you, old man. | Oh my God! |
Don't drag me down with you, old man. | Marge, wake up! The newspaper is talking to me! |
Oh, relax. I'm sure it's just your brain going crazy. | I wish! Look at this headline. |
Oh, relax. I'm sure it's just your brain going crazy. | Someone, or something, knows I love oversized food and short, punchy articles. So they hid a message in the first letter of each line. See: "HOMER, MEET ME 4TH STREET OVERPASS, MIDNITE." |
Oh, relax. I'm sure it's just your brain going crazy. | Wait a minute. This is today's paper. That meeting is tonight! |
No. | You have no choice. |
This is boring. Can't we go home? This overpass smells like urine. | They all do. |
Fresh urine. | Hey, the bathroom's a block away. |
Yes'm. | Mom? You're back. Just like you were back before, then you left me again. I love you so much, but it's so hard for me to trust you. Oh, what the heck. |
Yes'm. | Give me a hug, you. |
Homer, you're hugging a bum. | I know! I'm working my way up to you. |
Sorry about all the cloak and dagger Homer, but the government is still after me for what I did in the sixties. They're probably tapping your phones and reading your mail. | I think the government has better things to do than to read my mail. |
To reach you, I called up my friends in the liberal media and planted that story about the giant pizza. | You sure know me, Mom. |
I saw this macaroni pencil-holder Homer made me, and I realized how much I missed him. | I made this when I was five. I had to do something -- your pencils were all over the place. |
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