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I think I read somewhere that cows like being killed. | C'mon, everybody, we're going to the Slaughterhouse! |
You didn't need to knock the food on the floor. | Didn't I? |
Well, there is one steak that's only available by special request, uh... We call it, uh, "Sir Loin-A-Lot." It's, uh, the size of a Boogie-board. | Oooh, I'll have that one. And to drink... ... meatballs. |
Ladies and gentlemen... This brave man has accepted the Sir Loin-A-Lot challenge. He will pit his stomach against sixteen pounds of indomitable tenderloin. | They like me because I'm brave. |
Uh, if you want some friendly advice, pal, I wouldn't tackle the big'un right away. | Oh yeah? What do you know about it? Y-- |
Uh, if you want some friendly advice, pal, I wouldn't tackle the big'un right away. | It's you! You're him! You're Tony Randall! |
Red Barclay's my name. I'm a trucker, and I've eaten steaks from coast to coast, with taters and toast. Take my advice, this one's not for greenhorns. | Greenhorns! Who's a greenhorn? What's a greenhorn? |
It's an insult. Sock him, Dad. Sock everybody. | Oh, you're just jealous 'cause you don't have the belly for it anymore. Mr. No-Belly... Mr... Hasn't-Got-A-Belly... |
No, Homer! Don't fill up on bread! | Huh? Oh, right. The steak. |
Oh, humans are so ridiculous. He's not even halfway through Walter and he's already hallucinating. | Lousy drunks. I'll show them. |
Oh, humans are so ridiculous. He's not even halfway through Walter and he's already hallucinating. | What's happening to me? There's still food... but I don't want to eat it. I've become everything I've ever hated. |
The winner and still champion, Reliable Red Barclay! | My hat's off to you, Red. You're a true American hero. And you did it with style and dignity and... Hey, you're not breathing. Don't people usually breathe? |
There goes the finest trucker who ever lived. | He called me "Greenhorn." I called him Tony Randall. It was a thing we had. |
In 38 years, he never missed a shipment. But I guess this is one delivery ol' Red won't be making. | Oh yes he will! And on time, too! |
Oh no. Oh, no... | I've got to, honey. I owe it to ol' Red, as both his friend and his killer. |
Oh, lemme go with you, Dad! | Don't you have school? |
Don't you have work? | Ah, touché. |
Don't you have work? | Bye, Marge! |
Don't you have work? | Aren't you gonna say bye? |
Good-bye, Homer. | That didn't sound like you meant it. |
Oh, all right. Good-bye, sweetheart, have a nice trip. | That's more like it. So long, suckers! |
Well, according to Red's schedule, we have to make it to Atlanta in three days. | Piece o' cake. Just need a little truck-driving music. |
"If you wanna be my lover / You gotta get with my friends / Makin' love forever / Friendship's where that ends / If you wanna be my lover... | Ohhh. |
"If you wanna be my lover / You gotta get with my friends / Makin' love forever / Friendship's where that ends / If you wanna be my lover... | That little punk. |
A little more high-test, darlin'? | Sure thing, Gwenn. |
I'll be right back with your pie, hon. | Aww... that's a nice, friendly gal. |
Yeah. | Wouldn't it be great to live right here at the truck stop? Watching all the people come and go. You could have a different best friend every day. |
I suppose. | Great. I'll write your mother and tell her the marriage is off. And then when the paperwork is done, I'll make Gwenn my wife. |
Will that be all, sweetie? | For now... |
What about... Erika? | It ate everybody. |
What about... Erika? | Stupid! |
Uh-huh. Bet he used bait, too. | Relax, boy. We're ahead of schedule. |
Actually, we have to go twenty-two hundred miles in ten hours. | Ten hours?! We gotta roll! |
Well, Congress is racing back to Washington to outlaw these... | Sold! |
Hey! You can't take that many pep pills at once! | No problem. I'll balance it out with a bottle of sleeping pills. |
Ext. gas station - a minute later) | You'll never believe what happened. I fell asleep at the wheel and the truck drove here by itself. |
Yeah, that Navitron Auto-Drive System's made our jobs cushier than ever. | The what now? |
With this baby drivin' your truck for ya, all you gotta do is sit back and feel your ass grow. | The trucks drive themselves? |
Sh-hey-hey-hey-sh! Didn't your union rep tell you about the scam we got goin'? | Well, I'm not really a trucker, so I don't talk to the rep that often. |
We get 40 bucks an hour to drive these rigs. You think anybody'd hire us if they knew we weren't really drivin' the trucks? | Wow! You guys are even lazier than me! Well, don't worry. I'll keep your secret. |
Well, well. / What's that? / Will wonders never cease? | Relax, everybody! The Navitron Auto-Drive System is driving the truck for me! But keep it a secret! It's a big scam! Okay? |
He hit us! | Oh, I shoulda known. They're hazing us, to initiate us into the truckers' fraternity. |
He hit us! | Thank you sir, may I have another? |
Dad, they're trying to kill us! | Oh, why do all my trips end like this? |
Dad, they're trying to kill us! | Eat water, good buddy. |
Dad, stop! | Well, well, well. Looks like we've got ourselves a showdown, boy. |
Dad, stop! | All right. |
What are you doing? | I'm keeping a promise to an American roadmaster. |
Huh? | Red. The trucker. Big fat guy, couldn't handle his steak? |
Yep. You're gonna make it, Dad. And somewhere up there, I bet Red is saying thanks. | Ten-four, dead buddy. |
All right, let's see... Artichokes... aannnd migrant workers. Lookin' good. So, where is ol' Red anyway? | Well... the last time I saw him, he was in a big plastic bag. |
Yeah, that sounds like Red, all right. | Well, son. I guess it's time to go home. |
Any thoughts on how we're gonna get there? | No, but I'm sure the good Lord will provide. |
Are you crazy? I'm not driving a trainload of napalm to Springfield! | Thank you. |
And as we pass the collection plate, please give as though the person next to you were watching. | Oh, man. This is the hottest Easter ever. |
Who put this wicked idol in the collection plate? | Relax, I found it in the dumpster. |
Oooo. What a beautiful garden. It's almost like paradise. | Heads up! |
Speaking of ribs, is there any grub around here? | Is there! |
Good morning, Adam. Any bacon for you, then? | Don't mind if I do! |
Oh Adam, you're too kind. | No, you're too kind. And wise, and righteous... I can't believe you don't have a girlfriend. |
I hate to be a bossy Betty, but I have to forbid you to eat its fruit. | No problem, Lord. And it would be even easier to avoid that temptation if I had a few extra wives. |
Oh, how cute. Let's call this little guy a "groundhog..." | Sorry, I already gave him a name. "Land monster." |
Really? Well, what do you call that thing on the branch? | "Branch monster." |
Quite so, mum. I recall one of the dinosaurs had a bite and well, that was the last of -- Egad! | Why won't you be art?! |
Please stop eating that. God's gonna furious. | You're pretty uptight for a naked chick. You know what would loosen you up? A little fruit. |
Well, it is a sin to waste food... | And you keep saying we need to do things together... |
Adam, say something. | Uh, um, uh... I think we should see other people? |
Lovely day in paradise, isn't it? | Yeah, just like yesterday. |
Today I'm featuring mouth-watering pork ribs. Tuck in, then! | I gave a rib to Eve, and now she's gone forever. |
I'm toiling! What does it look like? | This is my fault. I shoulda stood up for you during that whole "Applegate" thing. |
Well, it's a little late for apologies now. | Don't say that! Maybe I can sneak you back in. I mean, God can't be everywhere at once, right? |
I'll be fine. Just give me a second to... ugh... | C'mon, Eve. Hurry! |
And after I created my fingers to the bone for you I... My unicorn! Oh, what have they done to you, Gary? | Oh, there, there, I'm sure he's gone to a better place, Lord. |
Oh, shut up. You are so banished. | Hey, now let's not do anything rash... God is love, right? |
King Solomon, these men need you to settle a dispute. They each claim ownership of this pie. | The pie shall be cut in two. Then each man shall receive... death. I'll eat the pie. |
Oh, how embarrassing. Oh, we slept right through church. | Eh, it's not the end of the world. |
It's the Rapture. And I never knew true love. | I never used those pizza coupons. |
Oh, right. The sins. | Where do you think you're going, Missy? |
Dad! | Ooh, I smell barbecue! |
Dad! | Hey, look! Oh, they're out of hot dogs! And the cole slaw has pineapple in it! German potato salad! |
Homer! | "You throw da can away..." |
I said Homer! | "You throw da can away..." |
I said Homer! | Marge, I'm out of beer. |
You know, Homie, a lot of men use their Saturdays to do things around the house, hint, hint. | But, Marge, I'm not like other men. That's why you buy my pants at that special store. |
And you could at least get that snake out of the piano... | Fine. I'll drop everything I'm doing just for you. But you'll have to live with the guilt of ruining my Saturday. Can you live with that, Marge? Huh? Can ya? |
Yup. | Can you? |
Hey, get off my case. The only reason I'm working here is 'cause I'm trying to get a date with "Mom." | Look Pop, I'm planning some expert home repairs, and I need a pair of bolt cutters, or wire cutters, or something to get the lock off my toolbox. |
You mean the janitor's closet? Ha! | I'd like to return this barbecue kit. |
Hi, I'm Doug Vaccaro. You know me as Chip, the wisecracking assistant on the hit sitcom, "Toolin' Around." | A man in an apron! |
Or if you're not into chicken... | No, no, I'm into chicken. |
How 'bout wild boar? Or swordfish? Or hippo? | Mmmm... hippo... |
Light-hearted apron not included. Snapping fingers may not make food appear. | How 'bout it, Bart? Would you like a new backyard barbecue pit? |
Can I burn evidence in it? | We can all burn evidence in it. |
Dad, I really need to rest my back. | Okay, sweetie. Daddy'll take over. |
Dad, I really need to rest my back. | Oh, yeah. That's a fine looking... |
Dad, I really need to rest my back. | Okay, no big deal... |
Dad, I really need to rest my back. | Stupid Lisa. |
Dad, I really need to rest my back. | You gotta build fast! Cement drying! |
Dad, I really need to rest my back. | All right, let's see... |
Dad, I really need to rest my back. | English side ruined! Must use French instructions! "Le grille?" What the hell is that?! |
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