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Hello! | Dad, what are you doin' here? |
And so, Springfield's heat wave continues with today's temperature exceeding the record for this date, set way back four billion years ago when the earth was just a ball of molten lava. | Ohhh. So hottt. |
Uhh... you keep 'em. Now listen. If we can't afford private school, maybe there's some other way to encourage Lisa. Umm, an art class... ballet lessons... they have some fun things you could do at the Museum on Saturday... | Uh-uh. Forget it Marge. There is no way I am spending my Saturdays at a Museum. Unless... Museums don't have foosball, do they? |
Uhh... you keep 'em. Now listen. If we can't afford private school, maybe there's some other way to encourage Lisa. Umm, an art class... ballet lessons... they have some fun things you could do at the Museum on Saturday... | You lose, Michelangelo's David. Who's next? |
I guess it doesn't matter. All these things cost money and we just don't have it. Unless... | Unless what? |
Well, there's that two hundred dollars we've been saving for the new air conditioner. | Oh, Marge, but we've needed a new air conditioner for years! And our stopgap solution is getting cranky. |
I cannot believe this. I'm trying to give our daughter a head start in life and you aren't helping a bit. | Marge, name one successful person who ever lived without air conditioning. |
Balzac! | No need for potty mouth just because you can't think of one. |
But Balzac is the name-- | Up up up up up up up. If "ifs" and "buts" were candy and nuts y... how does the rest of that go? |
Please, just promise you won't buy an air conditioner till we've figured out a way to help Lisa. | All right, all right, I promise. There must be another way to get an air conditioner... |
Please, just promise you won't buy an air conditioner till we've figured out a way to help Lisa. | Mmmm... re-circulated air. |
Uh... Homer? | What, Flanders. |
Well, sir, I hate to be a Suspicious Aloysius on you, but did you steal my air conditioner? | Well, I admit it looks bad, Flanders, but haven't you heard of "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone?" |
I'm Lisa! | She has a gift. |
Uh... here, have a margarita. | Oooh. |
That one! | Ohh! Saxomophone. |
That one! | Two hundred dollars! |
That one! | Oh, I'll take it. |
Would you like an inscription, sir? | Yeah. "To Lisa. Never forget your Daddy loves ." |
Wow. So that's how Lisa got her sax. | Next, I'll tell you the origin of Maggie's pacifier. |
You know, Homer... I think we have some money in the air conditioner account again, hmmm? | Ohhhh, but Marge! Am I doomed to spend the rest of my life sweating like a pig? |
Don't forget the smell! | Will you get off my front lawn? |
Why don't you make me? | Why -- oh, I give up. |
You're a good father. | I learned from the master. |
...and that's how an heroic hippo became a deputy. | Stupid hippo. |
This just in: tensions continue to mount between Springfield and France over Mayor Quimby's now famous "frog's legs" joke. The French President has threatened swift and massive retaliation if he doesn't receive an immediate apology. | Stupid frog. |
Homer, you know how unpredictable the French are. One minute they're kissing a woman's hand, the next they're chopping off her head. What if they start a war? | Relax, I built a bomb shelter. |
That's not gonna protect us from anything. | Fine, then don't use it. |
I won't. | Good. |
I know it's good. | So do I. |
I'm happy for you. | You should be. |
Not everyone died in the blast, Homer. Some of us were merely horribly mutated. | You're mutants? |
And now you must die. | You want me? Come and get me!! |
Come on, we just wanna eat your skin! | Go to hell, cloaky! |
Come on, we just wanna eat your skin! | Safe at last. |
Come on, we just wanna eat your skin! | That better not be the mutants. |
Homie, is that you? | Marge! Kids! You're alive! |
All the layers of lead paint in this house made it the perfect bomb shelter. | Ohh, com'ere. |
Friends with mutants, right. | Now that's the Marge I married. |
Good morning, ma'am. Good afternoon, sir. It passed noon while I was speaking, so that was technically accurate. | He's crazy. |
I take it from that little impressed noise that you are interested in purchasing that matter transporter, sir. | Hmmm, two bucks... And it only transports matter? Umm... Well, ah... I'll give you 35 cents. |
Sold! But I must warn you, this device carries a frighteningly high risk of catastrophic... | I said I'll take it. |
Hey Dad, can I use the transporter sometime? Please, I swear I'll be careful. | Sorry, but this is a highly sophistimicated doowhackey. If you don't use it responsibly... Kablamo! |
Ow! Someone just punched me in the face! | It was your mother. |
Oh! Ow! Uh! | Bart, are you in there? Have you forgotten our little "kablamo" talk? |
Bluggh? Blarrr! Blagh! | I think she's right. The pants are a dead giveaway. |
Homer, stop that! | So then Lenny says, "As if! Don't even go there, sister." |
Good one, Dad. | Yeah, well Lenny said it. |
There's one thing I still don't understand. When Bart went through the transporter, what happened to his head? | Eh, it'll turn up somewhere. |
Sucker! | Okay, okay. It's your sugar, Bart. |
BLARRGH! | Get 'im, boy! Smash that fly! Mush him up good! |
BLARRGH! | Nice work, son. |
Mom, Dad, help! He's trying to kill me! | Nobody likes a tattletale, honey. |
Hey! It worked! | Well, we were lucky this time. But it's all too clear that some things in this universe aren't meant to be trifled with. |
Homer, what are you doing? | Something I should have done a long time ago. |
Homer, what are you doing? | I'll teach you to mess with my machine! |
Homer, what are you doing? | I'm gonna chop you good! |
Homer, what are you doing? | That cost me 35 cents! |
Homer, what are you doing? | You're just making it worse. I promise I won't hurt you. |
If they're really witches, why don't they use their powers to escape? | That sounds like witch talk to me, Lisa. |
Let us throw open the floor to, ah, wild accusations. | Woo hoo! I accuse Goody Flanders. |
As for the rest of you... | They're in my hair! They're in my hair! |
Yar... and that's the story of the very first caramel cod. I mean, Halloween. And it wasn't long before this yearly custom became an annual tradition. | C'mon, give us some candy. Don't pretend you're not home! |
Dad, that's our house. | She's a witch! |
Hey, Dad, how come you've never taken us to see a soccer game? | I don't know. |
You'll see all your favorite soccer stars like: Ariaga! Ariaga II! Bariaga! Aruglia! And Pizzoza! | Oh, I've never heard of those people. |
And they'll all be signin' autographs. | Woo hoo! |
Can we go, Dad? / Please Dad? / Please, please, please? / Can we go, huh, huh please? / | Yes, yes, oh God yes! |
Pelé is king of the soccer field. To be king of your kitchen, use Crestfield wax paper. | Bo-ring! |
Homer. We gotta get out of here. | Oh, but I want to do some rioting. |
Jobbers cobknots ya mucker! | All done. |
Oh my God, Homer! They're right next door! | Relax, Marge. If someone tries to get in here, my burglar alarm will let us know. |
Looks like you called me ju-uust in time. This home isn't secure at all. | What did I tell you, Marge? |
Well, a lot of companies would put in a pretty system that looks good but doesn't provide any real protection. | Oh, let's get that. |
Well, I should hope not! | Let's get that! The suffocation thing! |
And you can have it all for just five hundred dollars. | Five hundred dollars! Forget it. |
But surely you can't put a price on your family's lives. | I wouldn't have thought so either, but here we are. |
Homer, we need something to protect this family. | I couldn't agree more, Marjorie. You deserve peace of mind and peace of mind is what you shall have. |
Whoa, careful there, Annie Oakley. | I don't have to be careful, I got a gun. |
Well, you'll probably want the accessory kit: holster... | Oh, yeah. |
Bandoleer... | Baby. |
Silencer... | Mmm-hmm. |
Loudener... | Ahh. |
Speed-cocker... | Ooo, I like the sound of that. |
And this is for shooting down police helicopters. | Oh, I don't need anything like that - yet. Just gimme my gun. |
Sorry, the law requires a five day waiting period. We've got to run a background check. | Five days! But I'm mad now! |
Yeah, well, you don't. | Lousy big shot. Thinks he's so big 'cause he's got a lot of guns. |
Dad! It's three A.M.! Can't you mutter in your room? | Marge kicked me out. |
All right. Go ahead. | Pushy kids think they can tell me what to do in my house. I tell you parents these days, they don't know how to rear children. |
All right. Go ahead. | How am I supposed to last five days without shooting something? |
Well, let's see here, uh, according to your background check, you've been in a mental institution... | Yuh. |
Frequent problems with alcohol... | Yeah. |
You beat up President Bush. | Former President. |
You beat up President Bush. | "Potentially dangerous?" |
Relax, that just limits you to three handguns or less. | Woo hoo! |
Homer, I don't want guns in my house! Don't you remember when Maggie shot Mr. Burns? | I thought Smithers did it. |
Hey Dad, can I borrow the gun tomorrow? I want to scare that old security guard at the bank. | Only if you clean your room. |
No! No one's using this gun. The TV said, you're 58 per cent more likely to shoot a family member than an intruder. | TV said that? But I have to have a gun. It's in the Constitution. |
Dad! The 2nd Amendment is just a remnant from Revolutionary days. It has no meaning today. | You couldn't be more wrong, Lisa. If I didn't have this gun, the King of England could just walk in here any time he wants and start shoving you around. Do you want that? Huh? Do you? |
No... | All right, then. |
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