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We've already got an informer working deep cover on your dad. One he'll never suspect. | Is it Lenny? |
My baby boy is in jail! I'm the worst mom in the world. | It's not all your fault. All these years, I watched you turn our son into a time bomb, and yet I did nothing. So in a way, I too am a victim... of you. |
You're a great mom. You were always there for Bart with love and support. His acting out was probably caused by negative reinforcement. | Oh, I get it. Blame the strangler. |
Time's up! | My poor boy is miserable in here. There has to be something I can do to help him. |
Time's up! | Interesting. Marge, what does that sign say? |
So, why do you want to be a guard here? | I believe that children are the future -- unless we stop them now. |
This end's for beating, this end's for holding. | Uh-huh. When does training start? |
Keep away! Keep away! | Put that sissy down! |
Keep away! Keep away! | If you're gonna pick on someone, why don't you pick on someone much bigger than you with a gun? |
Dad?! | That's right. I got a job here so I can watch over you like a mother hen. |
His dad's a screw? | I sure am. Here you go, son. I brought you a lollipop from the guards' lounge. |
Not so tough now, huh? | Well, that's the end of my shift. |
Not so tough now, huh? | See you Monday. Oh wait, Monday's Martin Luther King Day. I'll see ya when I see ya. |
Not so tough now, huh? | Love you. |
Why would Bart escape if he's gonna be released in two weeks? | You just don't understand boys. He's stupid. |
But he won't know where to go or what to eat. | Relax, what's the worst that could happen? |
I can't wait to lay my eggs in his brain. | No son of mine will be marched down the aisle at the barrel of a ray gun. |
I can't wait to lay my eggs in his brain. | Let's go. |
Oh Bart, my troubled little lamb. You'll be in jail for so long. But I'll keep your room just the way it was: a pigsty. | Son, I want you to know, no matter what anyone says, there's no shame in being caught alive. |
We're having "make your own taco" night. | Gina, thanks for showing us the meaning of Christmas. |
Homie, what are you doing? | I'm changing the batteries in all the remotes. We're all out of triple A's, so I'm gonna whittle down a couple of these D's. |
I'm gonna sleep on the couch. | She sure loves that couch. |
Homer, this bachelor party seems to have peaked. Would you please return my pants and/or underpants so I can go home? | Come on, it's your last night of freedom. You gotta have some fun. |
Grinch. | Hey, take it easy on Skinner. He's just down 'cause after tomorrow, everything he does is wrong. |
You know, Homer, Edna was bugging me and bugging me to set a date, and I picked one that seemed far away, and it zoomed up like a junebug flying in my windshield. | What are you trying to tell me, Skinner? |
Homer, Lenny...my man... I could never lie to you guys. I'm starting to get cold feet. Please don't tell anyone. | Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me. |
Homer, Lenny...my man... I could never lie to you guys. I'm starting to get cold feet. Please don't tell anyone. | Marge, guess what! Skinner wants to bail on his wedding! |
Homer, you're still talking to me! | Oh man, is this awkward. I'm outta here. |
Principal Skinner is having second thoughts? Poor Edna! | Yeah Marge, it looks like you got the last perfect man. Oh uh, by the way... can I borrow your car tomorrow? Mine's acting up. |
Every day you find a new way to aggravate me. | Hey, you're the one always bugging me to screw up our marriage. |
Spice up! Spice up! | Whatever. The important thing is to get Skinner to that altar. Because once a union has been sanctified by God, it takes at least six months to tear it apart. |
Spice up! Spice up! | Right, naked Duffman? |
I think Skinner might make a run for it -- he's eyeing the exits and doing calf stretches. | Don't worry, I've got a man on the perimeter. |
Cowabunga One to Fat Load. | This is Fat Load. I'd like to request a new codename. |
Denied. | Okay, Fat Load here. |
That cloud looks awesome. That rock looks awesome. My hands look awesome. | Hey champ. Ready to take the plunge? |
This is so sad. | Yeah, he's crazy all right. |
Well... | Unkink the hose! |
Drink or I'll die. | Wait a minute. I thought you didn't wanna get married. |
That was before I missed her smell, her warmth, her beautiful, beautiful penmanship! | Don't worry, Principal Skinner. |
Oh, that's so lovely. But it's too late to win us back with sweet talk! | Marge? Are you helping her? |
I won't let Edna throw her life away for some passionless marriage where two people lie in bed together with no contact, whittling away the batteries until they die. | Which are you saying is dead? Our marriage or our batteries? |
Homer, Marge, if I could just speak to Edna for a moment. | Shut up! I didn't tell you to say that! |
Just why am I taking your advice? | Because I'm successfully married. |
There's no ring on that finger. | Uh-oh. |
There's no ring on that finger. | Why did I take it off? Oh, right. To see if I could skip it across Lake Michigan. |
As tuned as we're gonna get in this humidity. | And the castrati? |
The what now? | And a one and a two and a... |
Edna's with Comic Book Guy? Oh God, she's on the rebound! And you meet the worst guys on the rebound. It's how Jackie got her "O"! | Okay, we'll go to the convention, sell my Lois Lane comics, buy some Jimmy Olsens, and stop Edna from making a terrible mistake! |
I wish you'd devote this much time and attention to our relationship. | Don't worry, Marge. We'll get something to eat. |
They're going into Multi-Purpose Room B! | That room has a dry erase board. They could be doing anything in there! Anything. |
Our marriage is just an illusion. He doesn't care how I feel at all. He doesn't know how to love. | Marge, the greatest day of my life was the day you and I became one. |
Our marriage is just an illusion. He doesn't care how I feel at all. He doesn't know how to love. | Would you marry me again? |
A band in a closet! Every girl's dream. | And now, Padre, if you would do the honors. |
I do! | Marge, you just agreed to raise the kids Klingon! |
Please don't make us go. If you make me get on that plane, I'll give myself diarrhea! I know how! | Okay, don't go. Just stay here and rot with Grampa. |
I'm only rotting on the right side. | I'll right-side you! |
I'm sorry sir, the computer says the movie "Chocolate Star Wars" doesn't exist. | I say you don't exist! |
A chick flick? Say it ain't so, Ho! | Can I have both? |
A chick flick? Say it ain't so, Ho! | Son, seeing sappy movies with a lady has certain "payoffs." |
Like what? They'll do something with you that they hate? | Exactly. |
THE SWEET LOVE STORY THAT IS OLDER THAN THE SEA... | THE SIMPLE SOMETHING THAT DUM DEEDLE DUM DEE DEE... / NOW LET'S PUSH PLAAAY! |
Opinion noted. Now if you don't mind, your father and I are trying to lose ourselves in this romantic fantasy. | Yeah, we're tryin' to create a mood here, so shut the Hell up! |
Homie, if I died, would you be sad? | Eh, well, I wouldn't be happy. |
Stupid kids ruin everything. | So, um, you're not in the mood anymore, are you? |
Homie, you know I'm usually good for a triple-X throw down, but between those kids and going to Uncle Tyrone's, we can't be alone. | We're alone now. |
You're never alone in this crapshack! | Why you little... |
You're never alone in this crapshack! | What kind of an airline routes all their flights through Nome, Alaska? |
Honeymooners -- no kids, no worries. | Here's your future! |
Not me, I do crunches. | Remember our honeymoon? |
You know, if we were younger and crazier, we'd trade in these tickets and run off to Miami! | Marge, let's do it. |
What about Uncle Tyrone? | We get one weekend to ourselves and we've gotta spend it watching some old geezer's odometer turn over? As the Bible says: screw that! |
What about Uncle Tyrone? | We don't have boarding passes, but we need to get on that plane for reasons that are utterly insane. |
So we're upgrading you to First Class. | There's a first class? |
This is so luxurious! I feel like I'm Princess Grace and Princess Di smashed together! | And look at me, I'm reading "The Economist." Did you know Indonesia is at a crossroads? |
No! | It is. |
Yeah, I've never sat by a pool this long without having to apologize to someone. | And tonight, we'll finally, and romantically, hump. |
Seriously, with the new breast pumps, and Diaper Genies, and corporate flex-time, child-rearing oughta be a snap! | You keep thinking that! |
The kids tracked us down! Our romantic holiday just became a stinkin' family vacation. | Marge, I won't let that happen. We have to grab this chance for romance now, or we'll never be alone. Not 'til Lisa's in college and we've lost contact with Bart. |
Homie, people in the other elevators can see us. | Oh yeah, like people in New Jersey have never seen a fat man makin' out. It's on the freakin' state flag. |
Homie, the waiter's still here. | Oh, right. |
Thank you, sir. | And now, my darling, it's finally time for romance. But before the intercourse, the dinner course. |
Let me finish my sentence! | Never! |
I don't know... Homie, why don't we just go home, wait 'til the kids fall asleep, and have sex in the car? | Because I was saving that for my birthday. Now, c'mon! |
You've been to space. | And yet, I've never been to me. |
You've been to space. | That sliding should stop soon. |
You've been to space. | This rolling is just temporary. |
You've been to space. | Ah, that's better. So why do they call this place Niagara Falls anyway? |
More alive than any of you squares! | Oh, you're on my hair. Oh, that's better. |
Tonight... we reveal a shocking secret. | No one does that to my daughter! |
What did those women expect? When you sign a contract with Fox, you know you're gonna be betrayed and humiliated. | Quiet, the commercial's on! If we don't watch these, it's like we're stealing TV. |
Do you love that sooo-weet smell of Farmer Billy's bacon? | Do I ever! |
Would you like to see how a pig goes from loving life to your fork and knife? | Would I! |
If you like bacon, you're gonna love it. And if you don't like bacon, well then the hell with you. | I'm going to find that golden ticket and win that tour! The only thing that can make bacon more delicious is seeing how it's made! |
Okay, Farmer Billy's slow-killed bacon, Farmer Billy's bacon-fed bacon, Farmer Billy's travel bacon... Mr. Simpson, if you really want to kill yourself, I also sell handguns. | Nope. Just lookin' for that golden ticket. |
Okay, Farmer Billy's slow-killed bacon, Farmer Billy's bacon-fed bacon, Farmer Billy's travel bacon... Mr. Simpson, if you really want to kill yourself, I also sell handguns. | Nope, nothing, nope, nada, the golden ticket! At long last. |
Please, Mr. Simpson, please. I fear your smooches are premature. This is, in fact, a silver ticket. | Huh? |
This song is about a country I love -- you may have heard of it. It's called America. | Hey, I know that country! |
BUT I LOVE THIS COUNTRY / TO ME SHE HAS NO SINS / IF YOU DON'T BUY MY RECORD / THEN AL QAEDA WINS! | USA! USA! |
Of all the days for you to get a zit. | Comely... succulent... clearly had a snout job... |
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