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Cobras? I thought you were the Hell's Satans. | How could I be down a thousand bucks? |
You took a picture of me when I was asleep? | If you'd've been awake you would have said no. You can see the bind I was in. |
We're the Hell's Satans, out of Bakersfield. | You're the Hell's Satans? What a fun coincidence. My gang's name is also the... |
Take off that jacket, man. | Okay. |
Now eat it. | All right. |
Hey, hey, chew with your mouth closed, please. | Sorry. |
Hey, hey, chew with your mouth closed, please. | Done. |
You got anything else with our logo on it? | Caps and frisbees, sir. |
You gotta eat them, too. | And some pogs. |
Yeah, it's part of being a lowlife. | Hello, police? Can you send a SWAT team to 742 Evergreen Ter... |
Forget it, Simpson. Those pig noises you made really hurt my feelings -- looking like a pig as I do. | But you have so much inner beauty. |
Hey! Hey! That's a leave-in conditioner! | You're done. Next! |
No, we're not. | Okay, bikers, that's it. Benjamin Franklin once said that house guests are like fish at... huh? They're gone! Woo hoo! |
No, we're not. | ... And those bikers saw that hard look in my eye -- you know that hard look I get sometimes? -- and they ran away like schoolgirls with their tails between their legs. |
And why aren't I at school? | Yeah, someone really dropped the ball here. Marge? Marge?! |
Dad, there's a note on the back of your head. | Really? Read it. |
Hm. "Thanks for letting us crash in your pad. We had a very nice time." | Oh, that's sweet. |
"Korean Love Brides"?! | I just don't want to be alone. |
Yeah, I did see some bikers ride by here with a blue-haired woman, 'bout ten minutes ago. Said they were gonna spend the night at Crystal Lake Campground, Section K, Space 217. I'm sorry I can't be of more help. | I guess I'll never find her. |
Homer, Homer, stop it! We've given up our violent ways. We just want to live peacefully, with your wife. | No! My wife is not a doobie, to be passed around. I took a sacred vow on my wedding day, to bogart her forever. |
Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! | Uh-oh. |
We both knew it would come to this. | You and me, chopper to chopper. |
Take your wallet. | Never! It was a gift from Newsweek! |
Homer! | Give me back my wife! |
Hey, can we at least keep her till the orgy in San Berdoo? | Whaddaya say, honey? |
No! | No dice! |
Why are we stopping here? | Taking care of some unfinished business. |
Hey! | Go! Go! Go! |
Sis-ters are doin' it for themselves! | Hey, why is this door locked? |
Uh, we're drunk. Really drunk! | Oh, thank God. |
What will become of our kids? | Where are the refreshments? |
I've got a motorhome I never use. Maybe we should raffle it off. | Maybe you should shut up. |
What about Mr. Burns? Maybe he'll help us out. | Forget it. He releases the hounds on every charity that comes to his door: Feed the Children, Save the Whales, even Release the Hounds. |
Check it out. I'm breaking books at a sixth-grade level. | Get 'em, boy. Hit those smart-ass books. |
This broom closet is not what it seems. It's a secret surveillance room, guarded by a tiny, evil robot. | Uhh. Is this gonna be like one of those horror movies where we open the door and everything's normal, and we think you're crazy, but then there really is a killer robot and the next morning you find me impaled on a weather vane? Is that what this is, Lisa? |
Thus saving Christmas. | Now, let's see. This will make three Christmases I saved versus eight I ruined... two were kind of a draw... |
Yes. The madness ends here. | Hah! If I had a nickel for every time I've heard that... |
Well, what do we have here? Looks like the biggest rip-off since "Webster." | Please, Mr. Coleman. We can explain. |
No, Bart, he's right. I did oversimplify. | Perhaps, but let's not get bogged down in semantics. |
No, Bart, he's right. I did oversimplify. | I think what Lisa meant to say is... |
Well, there's something you don't see every Christmas. | Hey, it is Christmas. We'd better get home. |
Hey, Dad... What if we... | Um, uh... Mr. Coleman, I've been thinking... My wife always makes too much stuffing and sweet p'taters and all, and... Aw, heck! Would you like to spend Christmas with us? |
Cloning is a troubling issue. | I like the ones where the mouse kills the cat. |
Well, anyone would be nervous with all the economic turmoil you read about in the... | Get her! She's doing something! |
She cleaned out the attic! | Our junk! |
She cleaned out the attic! | And the exits are sealed! Go to plan B! |
/ Push! / | Come on! |
I'll never get rid of this useless junk. | Useless? This flash cube has two flashes left! |
Look at these. You bought them after the Nagano Olympics, and never skied once. If you would just stop being so impulsive, maybe... | Hey, let's go skiing right now! |
Yeah! Let's go skiing! / Yeah, Dad. Let's go! | Woo hoo! |
Look Dad, it's the drummer from Bread! | Where?! |
I'm sorry! | Hmmm... "The Widowmaker," Oh, that one's for the ladies. "Spinebuster," boring. Ooh, "Colostomizer." |
I'm sorry! | Don't hurt me! Here's my wallet. |
Hi-didly-ho, Schuss in Boots. | Flanders! |
Hi-didly-ho, Schuss in Boots. | That suit's a little revealing, isn't it? |
Feels like I'm wearing nothin' at all! | Quit it! Must wash eyes! J-- |
Feels like I'm wearing nothin' at all! | Uh-oh. |
Feels like I'm wearing nothin' at all! | Okay, don't panic. Remember what the instructor said... |
Feels like I'm wearin' nothin' at all. Nothin' at all, nothin' at all... | Stupid sexy Flanders! |
Feels like I'm wearin' nothin' at all. Nothin' at all, nothin' at all... | Ow, my legs! This is the worst pain ever... |
Feels like I'm wearin' nothin' at all. Nothin' at all, nothin' at all... | Single. |
Have you been in here all day? | You missed all the fun. |
That oughta hold it. | I want my wife to get the best treatment money can buy. |
That oughta hold it. | Whoa-whoa-whoa! Don't go nuts. |
That oughta hold it. | Uh... better than that. |
That oughta hold it. | Perfect. |
I can't be in the hospital! Tomorrow is laundry day. And I've gotta de-meat Lisa's baloney. | We'll be fine, honey. The main thing is for you to get better. |
No they won't. We'll all pitch in on the housework, right guys? Guys...? | Take that! Woo! Woo! H-Hey! Hey! |
Oh, really? Well, knock yourself out. Just don't expect any miracles from those two. | Gotcha! Gotcha! / I'll show you! |
Good Lord! You're wasting thousands of dollars worth of Interferon. | And you're "interferon" with our good time! |
Dad, where are your clothes? | I don't know. |
Don't tell me Mom dresses you. | I guess, or one of her friends. |
Okay, now we're gonna draw jobs from the chore hat. | Come on, "bikini inspector!" "Scrub toilet?" Okay, that was a practice. Practice... Practice... Okay, here we go. "Feed fish." |
You know, the reason for the hat... | Oh, it's a great hat. No one's questioning the hat. |
Will you at least do the dishes? | Lisa, I'll do the dishes when I pick it out of the chore hat, and it's not a practice. See, there it is. But that was a practice. The system works! |
Will you at least do the dishes? | C'mon, eat, you lazy fish. |
Here are your lunches. And no trading your fruit for firecrackers. | Oh, but Lenny just got some bottle rockets. |
You're dead, squealer. | Lisa, help! |
No it's not! | I got the groceries! |
Good. Maple soda?... A cell phone full of candy?... Astronaut bread? | It's the bread of astronauts. |
Dad, I gave you a list! | Oh yeah. You were way off. |
Dad, I gave you a list! | Hello, Lollipop Island? There's a little girl here who had too many sourballs. |
Oh, couldn't be better. | Marco! |
Polo! | Marco! |
Polo! | Marc-- |
Will you guys turn that thing down? | Sweetie, if we didn't turn it down for the cops, what chance do you have? He hit her again. |
Will this do? | Jesus? |
Ohh, I don't like the looks of this. | You don't? 'Cause that's what I said! Tell her, Bart. |
Let's see... Crusty sores... | Yes... |
... Horrible wailing... | Yes! Yesssss! |
Aahhh! Unclean! Unclean! | Help us, Virtual Doc! Look at me! I'm on my knees! |
Excellent. | Leprosy? I can't believe it! That fortune cookie was right. |
Now guys, leprosy thrives in filthy conditions, so your only chance is to clean up the house. I'll get you a couple of mops. | Mops? The cure sounds worse than the disease. |
Yeah, that sounds right. | Well, I think we're on the outs with Him, but I know someone who's even holier than Jesus. |
Brains... Brains... | Use your brains to help us. Your delicious brains. |
Oh, those poor souls. What's the Christian thing to do? | Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! You wonderful man! |
All right, food! | Bart! Leave some for Rod and Todd! |
All right, food! | Here you go, lad. |
Uh, listen, Homer, we'd love to help you, but we're not really set up for lepers. | So you're shunning us. |
No, no, no, no, no, no, no. I'm just thinking we could send you to a better place... you know, a place where they can really take care of you. | Oh, thank you good sir. |
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