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The water's boiling! Quick, chuck him in! | Uh... |
Come on! Chuck him in! | Okay... |
Let's go! In the pot. In the pot. | But Marge, look at the little guy! |
He looks like an ordinary... ow! Son of a--! | Feel that, Marge? He likes you! |
Pardon me for asking, but where the hell's my stupid lobster? | We're not eating Mr. Pinchy. He's part of the family now. |
Pardon me for asking, but where the hell's my stupid lobster? | Pinchy, I made you some risotto. |
Daddd... | What's your problem, Veggie? You don't even eat lobster. |
Oh, it just turned up in the course of my daily rummaging. By the way, I oiled the hinge on your diary. | Aren't you proud of your big sister, Mr. Pinchy? Hmm? Hmm? |
Uh, I am sick of everyone being so proud of me! | That's my girl! |
Who left these muddy claw prints on my clean floor? | Sorry, Marge. Pinchy got all dirty in the yard chasing birds. But don't worry. I put him in a nice hot bath. |
Hey, what smells so good? | Yeah... Pinchy?... Pinchy?!... Oh... Pinchy!!! |
Are you gonna eat that all by yourself? | Uh-huh. Pinchy would have wanted it this way. My dear, sweet Pinchy. No more pain where you are now, boy. |
Are you gonna eat that all by yourself? | Oh God, that's tasty. I wish Pinchy were here to enjoy this. Ohhh, Pinchy! |
Hip hip-- | Hey, I'm trying to drive here! |
Hey, Dad, that light says, "Check Engine." | Uh-oh. Tape must have fallen off. |
Hey, Dad, that light says, "Check Engine." | There, problem solved. |
Oh, come on. | Relax, she just needs a little lovin'. |
Because they discovered gold right over there-- | It's because they're stupid, that's why. That's why everybody does everything. |
Founded by prostitutes in 1849, and serviced by prostitute express riders who could bring in a fresh prostitute from St. Joe in three days, Bloodbath Gulch quickly became known as a place where a trail hand could spend a month's pay in three minutes. | Three minutes? |
Uh, yes, sir? | Do we have to listen to you? |
Oh, well... no, you don't... but if you have any interest in history... | I'm done. |
Wow! Have you ever seen so many robot cowboys? | Hey robot, get your fat, metal ass down here! |
First of all, I'm not a robot. And second, I got this metal ass in 'Nam, defending this country for lazy jerks like you. Now, what'll you have, partner? | Let's see. One, two, three... six whiskeys! |
You can get drunk when we get home. | Duh. |
Let's forget this whole thing happened. | What the heck is this, a tea party? Somebody kill somebody! |
Homer! | But it's funny, Marge. The guy's sick. |
Can I go to the bathroom before we leave? | Oh, we've gotta get home. I don't wanna miss, "Inside the Actor's Studio." Tonight it's F. Murray Abraham. |
But I really need to-- | F. Murray Abraham. |
There's a rest area. Pull over. | Can't stop now. We're making great time. |
Can I go behind a tree? | What are you, an animal? |
Please go back! You can make it my birthday present. | We're almost home, Dad. Only a couple more times over the horizon. |
But I might explode. | You just sit back and relax. I'm not gonna let anything happen to my old dad. |
Oh, no! | Yep, that's what happens when you get older. It's one of those natural things. Beautiful in its way. |
Uh, actually, his kidneys were fine yesterday when he had his annual checkup. | Excuse me, doctor. I think I know a little something about medicine... |
Homer, with all due respect, this x-ray reveals a textbook kidney blow-out -- which would explain those loud pops you heard. | So... you're saying I don't need a new muffler? |
I'm amazed you're alive now. | Oh, I blame myself for this. |
I'm amazed you're alive now. | C'mon, Doc. There's gotta be something I can do to help my dad. |
Well, you could give him a kidney. | A kidney? Okay, fine. |
You see, the waiting list for a kidney is very long and... | I said "fine." What is it about the word "sure" you don't understand? |
Besides, nothing's too good for a wonderful, generous man like you. | Well now that's what I always thought, but somehow... |
Check it out, Dad. I rented all your favorite gorilla movies. "Gorilla Squadron," "Gorilla Island VI,"... | "Apes-A-Poppin'!" Oooh, the airline version! |
Can I fluff your pillow? | Nothing's too good for me. |
Can I fluff your pillow? | Ahhh. I'm the luckiest man in the world, now that Lou Gehrig's dead. |
Well, I gotta hand it to you, Homer. You're really brave to go through with this operation. | It's not an operation, Moe. The doctor says it's just a procedure. |
Nah, nah, no. Makin' polenta, that's a procedure. You're talkin' about deadly, life-threatening surgery, here. | Really? You think it's dangerous? |
Oh, yeah. And, and even if you survive the operation -- | Procedure. Deadly procedure. |
Whatever. The point is, with only one kidney, you won't be able to drink yourself stupid no more. | Now you're just tryin' to scare me. |
Plus they'll put you on one of those organ donor sucker lists. Everybody who wants an eyeball or a spine or a vestigial tail will be after you. | But I don't want that. |
Listen, I'm just gonna get right to the point, here. Can I have your buttocks? I mean, if you die. They look pretty comfortable. | Yeah, I guess. |
And, uh, are those your original lips? | Well, actually I-- Hey! Quit harvesting me with your eyes! |
Oh, Homer, that was just a beer can with a whistle glued to it. | But I don't want them cutting up my soft, supple body. Why didn't somebody tell me what I was volunteering for? This is everybody's fault but mine. |
I love you, son. | I owe Dad so much. Those bedtime stories began my lifelong love affair with the printed word. |
Well, giving him a kidney is a wonderful way to show him how you feel. | You're right, Marge. I'll do it. But if I die during the operation, will you do one thing for me? |
Ohh, anything, sweetheart. | Blow up the hospital. |
Well... I said I'd do it, so I guess I'll have to. | That's my girl. |
Dr. Martins to podiatry. | "Liability waiver?" |
Don't read it. Just sign it. | Yeah, but all these skulls and crossbones on here... I don't usually sign stuff like that. |
It simply says you won't hold us responsible if you die as a result of gross negligence. It's a standard form. | Oh. |
I love you, son. | I love you, Dad. |
Well, if you look closely, you'll see this is a taffy shop shaped like a ship. | Oh, I like taffy, but I don't deserve taffy. |
Arr, what other ships have ye been on? | I've been on that one. The taffy shop. |
Welcome aboard "The Ship Of Lost Souls". | The name on the back says "Honeybunch." |
Arr, I've been meaning to paint over that. Now come and meet the rest of the damned. Did I mention they're lost souls? | Well, actually, you did... |
Ahh, another lost soul has joined our world-weary ensemble. | Say, who are you guys? |
Who are we? No one. Where are we sailing? Nowhere. Do we even exist? Who knows? | H-Heyy, let me off this thing. |
Oh, don't listen to him. We exist all right. | Whew. |
We wander the seven seas, trying to forget. | Forget what? |
Come, stranger, join our circle of infamy. Tell us your story of en-nui. | Well, back on land, my name was Homer Simpson. And I guess it is here, too. I promised my Dad one of my kidneys, but I chickened out at the last minute and left him on his deathbed. |
I stole this accordion from a blind monkey, but you... you disgust even me. | Well, yeah, I know... |
I stole this accordion from a blind monkey, but you... you disgust even me. | That's the last time I trust the strangest people on earth. |
We make a great team, son. | Oh, I wish I had that kind of relationship with my father... or my kids. Well, I guess it's up to me to take the first step. |
Oh, who'm I kiddin'? I'm a goner. | No you're not, Dad. |
Oh, dear. | Boy, that... |
Oh, dear. | Ow! |
Try not to move, Dad. You swallowed a lot of motor oil. | I'm sorry I ran off again. Oh, I guess Dad must be dead by now. When I get better, and after I've built those shelves for the kitchen, we'll visit his grave... |
Oh! Boy, I shouldn'ta done that. | It's a miracle! You recovered! |
Oh! Boy, I shouldn'ta done that. | What? What? Hey! |
While we were setting your broken bones and putting your blood back in, we helped ourselves to a kidney and gave it to your father. | You butchers! Give it back! Gimme that! Gim-- |
Yes. You've shortened your life significantly, so someone else can have a slight extension of theirs. | Yeah, I guess you're right. Gimme a hug. |
Yes. You've shortened your life significantly, so someone else can have a slight extension of theirs. | I don't need two kidneys. I have everything I need right here... |
Yes. You've shortened your life significantly, so someone else can have a slight extension of theirs. | Hmmm... |
Dad, you're tickling me. | Yesss, tickling. |
We'll return for the remainder of the conclusion after these messages. | Well, I'd rather get a message than see another lousy commercial. |
Remember, it's BI-MON-SCI-FI-CON. Be there and be square! | Well, beats work. |
As you can see, you stand to save up to seventeen cents a month over the more dependable providers... | Nooooooooooo! |
/ Yeah! / Star Wars! | You stupid nerds! He's trying to save you money on long distance! |
That swarm of nerds is gonna kill him! | Neeerrrds! |
That swarm of nerds is gonna kill him! | Get out of there! |
That swarm of nerds is gonna kill him! | Mr. Hamill, Mr. Mayor, come on! |
Who are you? | Homer Simpson -- nerd buster. And I'm gettin' you out of here! |
I can't, Homer. I twisted my ankle. You guys go on without me! | Never! |
I can't, Homer. I twisted my ankle. You guys go on without me! | Follow me. |
I can't, Homer. I twisted my ankle. You guys go on without me! | Oh, how was I supposed to know it's not a real spaceship? |
Oh, my God. Someone has to go back in for Maggie! | Forget Maggie! She's gone! |
Wow, that was close. Well, thanks a lot, Homer. | Well, it's all-- Hey, I thought you twisted your ankle. |
I'll tell you who. Him! | Woo hoo! |
Homer, I don't think you were listening to what he just-- | I said, "woo hoo." |
As a bodyguard, your only loyalty is to your pro-tectee. Not to your family. Not to your country. Not to Moohamed. | Even during Ramadan? |
These melons represent your pro-tectees. Throughout this course, you will pro-tect your personal melon as if it was paying your salary. | Wha? |
Okay, listen up! My goal is to assassinate that watermelon. Your job is to take the bullet. Go! Go! Go! Go! Pow! | Nooo! |
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