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Ooo, baby. | Oh, don't worry. You'll be sleeping in this beautiful new doghouse. Target date: January, 2007. |
What's going on here? | Uh, honey, there's a point in every father's life when he blows up his daughter's room. |
Oh, yeah? You didn't blow up Maggie's room. | Oh Lisa, this must be a rough time for you. Do you have any friends or family you can stay with? |
You've ruined all my stuff. | Oh, come on. Tell us how we can make it up to you. Hey, pretend it's your birthday. |
Well, the Book Festival starts today... | Anything at all. You name it. What do you want to do? |
Mmmm. | okay. |
Whaaa?! | Idiots. |
Homer, that's not a prayer, that's gossip. | Fine, I'll just discuss heavenly matters. So, how's Maude Flanders doin' up there? She playin' the field? Ooh... yeah, really? All those guys? Amen. |
Catch, Dad, catch! | Okay, that stings Daddy's eyes, honey. |
You know, Homer, I've spent my whole life entertaining kids, and I just realized I don't know the first thing about 'em. | Well, I won't lie. Fatherhood isn't easy like motherhood. But I wouldn't trade it for anything. Except for some mag wheels. Oh, man, that would be sweet. |
Dad! Dad! | Just a second, honey. Daddy's on his high horse. |
Daaaad! | Yeah, I'm watching, honey. Nice cannonball. Anyhoo, the key to fathering is don't over-think. 'Cause over-thinking is... What were we talking about? Ooh, a clown. |
My little girl's sharp as a tack. I tried the "got your nose" bit on her -- didn't fool her for a second. | My uncle still has my nose. |
Fold-o-rama. | Can we make this hand high-low? |
No. | I fold. |
Oh yeah, right. Just let me go to my car. | A WEEMA-WAY, A WEEMA-WAY, A WEEMA-WAY, A WEEMA-WAY, A-WEEM... |
I'm all for ethnic diversity, but this is just pandering. | Maybe so, but Dawson's gonna be bummed. |
Oh, Krusty. I'm sure she just needs time to get used to you. | Marge, may I play devil's advocate for a moment? |
My daughter's violin! | Oh, right. Why don't we just break into Fat Tony's compound and get it back? |
Really? You'd help me take on the mob? | For a casual acquaintance like you? Absolutely. |
It's some kinda mafia summit! Every mob family in the country's here: the Cuomos, the Travoltas, the Lasordas, the Boy-ar-dees... | This is perfect! If I know Fat Tony, which I don't, he'll be distracted by his hosting duties. Come on. |
It's gonna take forever to go through all these! | I have a plan. |
Then it's decided. Our website name will be crime dot org. | I think we're in the clear. |
That's him! That's the one! Homer Simpson! | I said I was sorry. |
Oh, all right. / Fair enough. / He's a class act. | Sorry you're such jerks! Ha, ha! |
Oh, all right. / Fair enough. / He's a class act. | Ow! That Bullet went in. |
Well, maybe I should. | So, now you're smarter than your old man, eh? |
I guess. | I like your attitude. Take what you need. |
Don't you call me a-- | Take that, Lisa's beliefs. |
Oh, how cute! Kids, look who's on the roof! | I knew this day would come. The cows are taking back what's theirs. |
I can't believe how young he is. He'd be cute if he weren't so idealistic. | Look, Marge! I'm in a limo! The Simpsons are going to Paris! |
Shut up! | First comes love, then comes, um... Dammit, I know this. |
Oh, thank you, thank you! | Have a good time at your hippie club. |
They've undergone terrible hardships. | Well, moping won't make it better. |
Mom, Dad, there's something I have to do. You're not gonna like it, but I really believe it's the right thing. | Marge, she's gonna narc on our stash. |
It's okay, Mom! I have a safety line! | This is your fault, with your non-threatening Bobby Sherman-style good looks. No girl could resist your charms. |
This was her choice, Mr. Simpson. | I'm sorry, I wasn't listening. I was lost in your eyes. |
Dad, I'm not dead! | Oh, praise God, you're alive! Unless... |
Homer, it's Neddy. I baked you a little something to ease the pain. | Oh, must hide Lisa...! |
Homer, it's Neddy. I baked you a little something to ease the pain. | Come i-in! |
Homer, ah, booze is on the house, seeing as how Lisa is, ah,... how do I put this... uh, ridin' the midnight train to slab city. | Thanks for the beer, Moe. But before Lisa died, she made this tape that I think you should hear. |
Dear Moe, if anything should ever happen to me, I want you to tear up my dad's tab, and pour cocktail onions... Dad, I can't-- | Read it! |
I'm not dead! And neither is my sense of moral outrage. | Oh, here we go. |
Just a cotton-pickin' minute. I've been getting A's since Gymboree. | Well, what do you want, a medal? |
You gave Bart one. | Love you. |
I just buckled down and studied. | No, really. |
Deadbeat. Deadbeat. Deadbeat. | Oh, how embarrassing. Well, let me just give you one of my many other valid... |
Deadbeat. Deadbeat. Deadbeat. | Run! |
THEY'RE GETTING AWAY / STOP THEM, MARY-KAY! | Okay, so we can't pay for your precious food. What are you gonna do about it? |
VA LA BAMBA / VA LA BAMBA... | Can we go now? |
No, no. Your playing, while technically proficient, lacks passion. | Fine. You want passion? I'll give you passion. |
No, no. Your playing, while technically proficient, lacks passion. | BLUE SPANISH EYES / TEARDROPS ARE FALLING FROM YOUR SPANISH EYES... |
When did this happen? When did we become the bottom rung of society? | I think it was when that cold snap killed off all the hoboes. |
Dad, what happened to the back seat? | I had to sell it for gas money. |
Dad, what happened to the back seat? | Which I spent on a novelty horn. |
Maybe we should talk to a financial planner. | Financial panther, eh? |
Mr. Simpson, you're a dollar overdrawn. | Get him, Sheeba! |
Mr. Simpson, you're a dollar overdrawn. | I'm on board. |
Well, I see you have several mortgages, credit card debt, no savings, and you're supporting your father? | Just give the word, and I'll cut him off. |
I couldn't ask you to do that. | Consider it done. |
Based on these figures, I'm afraid you'll need to declare bankruptcy... several times. Just look at this projection. | Marge, your posture looks terrible. |
Mr. Simpson, your intelligence profile indicates that you're too "stupid" to stick to a budget. | Yes, go on... |
So let me put this simply: you need more money. | But how do I get it? |
Oh, I concur. Word-a-day calendar. | I'm just trying to work up the courage to ask Burns for a raise. Or a highly-paid internship. Something to solve my money woes. |
Hmmm. What is this? Some kind of force-field around these vegetables. | That's the sneeze guard. You have to lean under it to get salad or sneeze on stuff. |
Everything's so green and alive! | Mr. Burns... I was wondering if I could get a raise. |
What kind of a raise? | Whopping? |
I see. You have thirty seconds to wow me. | Well, sir... you see, sir... I've worked here a long time, and my wife has a game leg, and my kids have game things as well... |
I don't want to hear your whining. I'm a bored and joyless old man, give me a laugh! | A laugh? Okay, let's see, what's in the news today?... |
Oh, for the love of... Hurl this at that. | At Lenny? But he's a war hero! |
Well, let's decorate him then. | No! |
That was capital - my lung is aching. | I liked when I threw the pudding. |
Do it again! I'll make it an even eight. | You're the boss. |
Let's keep the laughs coming, eh, Simpson? What say I make you my Executive In Charge Of Recreation -- No, no, better yet, my Prank Monkey. | Will you keep giving me money? |
I can't have my little monkey running around in rags. | Woo hoo! |
Look at that Comic Book Fellow calmly eating candy like a Spaniard. Time for monkey to shine. | I'd like to buy a mint condition "Spider-Man Number One," please. |
Paper bag, or triple mylar? | Uh, no thanks. I'll just eat it here. |
Oh, that was uproarious. First-rate job, monkey! | Do I get paid now? |
Okay, now! | Little help? |
Okay, now! | Little help, please? I made a boom-boom... |
The line in the lady's room is far too long and so I hope you don't mind if I... | Baby made a boom-boom. |
There. That's six years' worth of inoculations. | Here you are, my good man. And while you're at it, throw in one of those polio shots. |
Oh, yes, sir! | Anti-polio. |
Homie, where did you get that ball of money? | I've been doing some outside projects for Mr. Burns. |
Really? Like what? | Oh, y'know, business stuff... downsizing, e-solutions, the glass ceiling... |
Look at their proud, hopeful faces. Wait'll they see that their rare Chinese panda is nothing but a fat guy in a suit. | Well, why do I have to do the Lindy Hop? |
Oh, she's saying "I love you." | Can't take the pain... |
Hey, there's our resident bull panda, Ping Ping. With any luck, folks, these two will become very, very close, if you know what I mean. | Huh? Help! Mr. Burns! |
Hah. You ain't goin' nowhere, cutie. | Am I glad to see you guys. You gotta call... |
Dad?? The panda was you? | Did you see Daddy dance? They all saw me dance. |
So, this is your mysterious new job for Mr. Burns? | Yes. I humiliate myself for fistfuls of cash. |
Oh Dad, you have to stop. | I know. |
Too busy trying to keep my sides from splitting -- it's happened before. Monty say, monkey do. What could be better? | Well, you could treat me with a little respect. |
Oh, shut up, you tub of guts. | You see, that's what I'm saying. |
Not my Dad. | Shh-shh, the grownups are talking, honey. |
Dad, how can you put a price on your dignity? | She's right. Yes, I may be naked and reeking of panda love, but I've got to stop this before it goes too far. |
Take that back for nine hundred and three dollars. | I retract my statement. |
Da-ad! | I mean, screw you! |
A poor man. | Huh? Oh, why did he have to say that extra thing? |
Forget about him, Dad. I'm proud of you. | Aw, thank you, sweetheart, but what should I do with this dirty, ill-gotten money? I better throw it in the garbage. |
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