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You saved us, Homer. | Mr. Moe, prepare to surface. |
I think you're off the hook. | Woo hoo! |
A dishonorable discharge! It's the best we could've hoped for. | You can't spell "dishonorable" without "honorable." |
I think you're a hero, Dad. | Well, I couldn't have done it without Bart. |
I think you're a hero, Dad. | Boy, I guess I was wrong about that earring. It saved us all. |
Then can I get a tattoo that says, "Bite Me?" You never know when it might come in handy. | I don't think so, son. |
A king cobra? | No. |
Weapons-grade plutonium? | Ask your mother. |
Knock-out drops? | No. |
Ninja death stars? | Maybe for Christmas. |
Eight-Eight-Eight... | Oh, will this horrible year never end? |
Dad! | What is it, Sweetie? Did you see a scary picture in your picture book? |
That was last year's taxes! You have to pay again this year! | No, because... You see I went ahead and... Year-wise, I was counting forward from the last previous... |
I put the tax forms on top of your to do pile a month ago! | I have a to do pile? |
I put the tax forms on top of your to do pile a month ago! | Marge, how many kids do we have? Oh, no time to count, I'll just estimate. Uh, nine. |
Homer, you know we don't have... | Shutup! Shutup! If I don't hear you, it's not illegal. Okay, I need some deductions! Deductions! Ah! Business gifts! |
Homer, you know we don't have... | Here you go. Keep using nuclear power. |
Homer, I painted that for you. | Okay, Marge, if anyone asks, you require 24-hour nursing care, Lisa's a clergyman, Maggie is seven people and Bart was wounded in Vietnam... |
What about you, Homer? | Well... |
Homer Simpson? United States Government. | Help! Somebody! |
Mr. Simpson, this government computer can process over nine tax returns per day. Did you really think you could fool it? | No, sir. I'm really sorry sir. An older boy told me to do it. |
You're looking at five years, minimum. | No sir, please. I can't go to prison. They pee in a cup and throw it on ya. I saw it in a movie! |
You won't be seeing any prison movies where you're going... Prison! | No, please, I'll do anything! |
Anything? Well, that's a start. Agent Johnson, FBI. | I'm very happy to meet you. |
From now on you're gonna work for us. | Okay, but could you pay me under the table? I got a little tax problem. |
They want you to spy on your friends? | Not spy, squeal. I've got no choice. |
The government has no right to use you this way. | Quiet, honey, you don't know how big this government is. It goes all the way to the president. |
There you go, Ratboy. | Does this make me look fat? |
No, it makes you look like a tool of government oppression. | But not fat. |
Oh, God! | How 'bout you, Lenny? Testing, testing? Lenny? |
You sayin' you want to commit a crime, Homer? | Maybe. But first I need to hear about some other crimes to get me fired up. |
Or that telemarketing scam you pulled? | Uhhhh, like those. But involving you. |
Oh, you, you mean like the time Barney beat up George Bush. | Barney? That was me! And I'd do it again. |
Hey, how did they finger Charlie? Somebody musta ratted him out. | Oh, that's ridiculous, Moe. End transmission. |
My superiors were pleased with your work. You have a flair for treachery. | Well, I'm just glad it's all over. |
Ohh, you're not through, Simpson. We have a high-risk assignment for you. | Why do you keep picking on me? Marge's name was on that tax return, too. |
Let's take a walk. | Walk? That wasn't part of the deal. |
In 1945, the people of Europe struggled to rebuild following the war. | Losers... |
To make good on this drunken boast, Truman authorized the one-time printing of the largest denomination currency ever: a trillion-dollar bill. | Ooh! A trillion-dollar bill? 'Atsa spicy meatball! |
Sometimes I don't know why I bother. | I'm in. |
Now what, Smithers? I... You're not Smithers. | Uh, I'm Homer Simpson, your trusted employee. |
Hmm... A pack of vicious dogs should be ripping you to pieces... | Uhh, I don't know what to tell you. |
It'll, uh, be a few minutes. So, what brings you to my home? | Well, Mr. Burns, you always come off as kind of a gruff, crotchety loner, but we both know that deep down inside... |
Ya! Ha! | Still cold. |
Hmm. Well, let me get you a towel. | Starting search for trillion-dollar bill. |
Hmm. Well, let me get you a towel. | C'mon... Where are you?... Here, Trilly, Trilly. |
What is this? What are you doing? | Uhmmmm... Errr... Uhhhhh... |
You're from Collier's magazine, aren't you? Are you going to put me in Star Snoop? | Uh, yeah, sure. That thing. |
Well, of course, I didn't want a racehorse in my living room, but you don't say no to Spring Byington, do you? | No you don't. Heh, heh. |
Heh, heh, heh. Heh, heh. Ohh, you'll find this amusing -- the suit Charlie Chaplin was buried in. | Ewww! |
That intrepid lad is my great grandfather! Franklin Jefferson Burns. Tossing that tea without a care for what the caffeine would do to the Fenway Flounder. | Is that a fish? |
It was. | Hey, that guy looks like you. |
Let's move. | Is that the trillion-dollar bill in his hand? |
Well, that would be pretty careless of me, wouldn't it? I keep the real bill right here. | Wowww, that must be worth a fortune. |
I'm not the thief, the government is. Every year you make hard-working Joes like my reporter friend here pay income taxes, and for what? Aid to ungrateful foreigners, do-nothing nuclear missiles, tomb polish for some unknown soldier... | Hey, he's right... |
Ohh, you can silence me, but you can't silence Collier's magazine! Tell the people! Don't let the government push you around! You have a choice! Fight back! | I'm gonna write the best darn article... Oh wait. |
Ohh, you can silence me, but you can't silence Collier's magazine! Tell the people! Don't let the government push you around! You have a choice! Fight back! | Take that, Uncle Sam! |
Faster, Simpson! Those jack-booted G-men won't be far behind. | We'll hide out at my place. I've got beer. |
That really was more of a burgundy... | Ohh, we're never gonna make it. Let's just divide up the trillion now, and go our separate ways. |
Capital idea! Let's blow this fascist popsicle stand. We'll purchase a small island somewhere and start our own country, free from the relentless tyranny of Uncle Sam. | But I can't leave the country! What about my wife and kids? |
Attention fugitives. You are leaving U.S. jurisdiction. Turn back immediately or we will be unable to prosecute you. | We'd better do what he says. |
No, wait! We're now over international waters. | Woo hoo! We can gamble! |
No, wait! We're now over international waters. | Yes! |
Any of these islands would make a fine new country. | I call President! |
Es carne de burro. | Nice to meet you. |
So, you say Batista's gone? Did you know that? | I had no idea. |
Please, we are all amigos here. | Mr. Burns, I think we can trust the President of Cuba. |
Well, if it's a crime to love one's country, then I'm guilty. And if it's a crime to steal a trillion dollars from our government and hand it over to communist Cuba, then I'm guilty of that, too. And if it's a crime to bribe a jury, then so help me, I'll soon be guilty of that! | God bless America! |
Do not be alarmed. That is just my helper monkey, sir. I got him after a robber shot me six times and left me for dead. | Helper monkey, eh? |
Ah, they serve as seeing eyes for the blind, sir. | Do they do any other tricks? |
No. | Just the monkey then. |
Ahh, may I inquire as to how you are "differently abled"? | Oh-ho-ho, I'm not handicapped. I'm just lazy. |
Uh, sir, helper monkeys are only for the physically challenged or enfeebled. | Enfeebled?! Oo, I know just the guy! Be right back. |
Oh, son, this monkey's gonna change my life. | Mind if I take him for a ride? |
Monkey! There's a monkey in the house! | Relax. It's only Mojo. Mojo, Marge. Marge, Mojo. He can do anything you show him. Watch. |
Monkey! There's a monkey in the house! | Simpson residence. |
Why didn't you tell me you were bringing home a filthy monkey? | This "filthy monkey" made the orange juice you're drinking. |
And now... "Kids News." | Marge! The kids are on! |
Hmf. The monkey's on my part of the sofa. | Honey, he's clearly marked his territory. |
Excellent. | Marge, can I get a duck? |
You already have a monkey. | Can he get a duck? |
Hmm. It really makes you think. | And so on. |
I want you to take that monkey back so he can be rehabilitated and get a second chance. | No, no. He's fine. Go on, Mojo, show Marge your happy dance. |
Come on, Mom, the stores just invented this holiday to make money. | Lisa, don't you ruin another Love Day. |
I'm Sir Loves-a-Lot, the bear who loves to love! | They didn't have Lord Huggington? |
It's the same basic bear, Homey. | I guess. |
Kiss it and make it boogie! | Kiss it. |
Uh, maybe later. | Oh-ho yeahhh... |
Uh, what a terrible waste! | Yes, but the memories will last a lifetime. |
Uh, what a terrible waste! | Crap -- py -- stuff. |
Yep, that's the rule. He who tops it off, drops it off. | Nuh-uh. It isn't filled until it's spilled. |
I heard that! You know the rule. | Ooh, but I can rebuild! |
Didn't you learn anything from Love Day? | That was yesterday, moron! |
Oh lord! Now what are we going to do? Just let the trash pile up? | Hey, I'd rather live in a dump than in a world run by snooty garbage men. |
Dad, is this another one of those situations that could be solved by a simple apology? | I never apologize, Lisa. I'm sorry, but that's just the way I am. |
Dad, is this another one of those situations that could be solved by a simple apology? | Siddown, honey. The men will clear the table! |
Dad, is this another one of those situations that could be solved by a simple apology? | So long, chicken bone. |
See you in hell, brussel sprouts. | No room for you, Jell-O. |
Oooooh! | Sorry Ned. I didn't see you down there. Got him. |
Uh, listen Homer, ah, hate to be a fussy Freddy and all, but Maude's folks are here and, ah, they're a tad touchy about odors... | Then you might wanna close your windows before the sun hits Diaper Hill. |
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