text
stringlengths 7
697
|
|---|
Wait a minute. If I hadn't written that nasty letter, we wouldn't have gotten anything! |
Well... then I guess the moral is, "The squeaky wheel gets the grease." |
Perhaps there is no moral to this story. |
Exactly. It's just a bunch of stuff that happened. |
But it certainly was a memorable few days! |
Amen to that! |
Bart... Bart... Hey, Bart. |
Lisa? It's six a.m. Something's wrong! Dad died! |
No, no. He's fine. |
Well, what do you know? I'm relieved. |
Bart, my birthday is in two days. I'm gonna be eight years old. It's a big number -- almost double digits. |
Well, enjoy it while you can. Everything changes when you hit the big one-oh. Your legs start to go... candy doesn't taste as good anymore -- |
Lisa did it. |
Bart, will you please let me pour my little heart out? |
Sorry, this old timer does ramble on sometimes, don't he? |
Bart, I do so much for you and yet you have disappointed me on every one of my birthdays. I've made things for you. But you've lost or broken them in hours... but, okay, we'll forget all... |
Okay, uh-huh. Okay, okay,. Okay, okay, okay okay, it's done! I'm doing it! Birthday gift coming your way! |
Oh, thank you. |
Bart, watch Maggie while I get the laundry. |
Can do. |
Hm... Krusty hotline. |
Hi kids! You've reached the Krusty Hotline. If you haven't asked your parents' permission, naughty naughty! But Krusty forgives you! Two dollars for the first minute, fifty cents for each additional minute. |
Thanks for calling kids! A new message every day. |
Maggie! |
Bart, I asked you to watch your sister! |
I tried to stop her but she overpowered me. |
Who stole my shirt? Who stole my shirt? |
I washed it. |
Oh thank you, Marge -- Pink? |
Marge, I can't wear a pink shirt to work. Everybody wears white shirts. I'm not popular enough to be different. |
Now Homer, don't panic. You have plenty of white shirts. |
Oh, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme! |
Oh no... Pink. Pink! PINK! It's all over, Marge. It's all over. |
I don't know how this could have happened. |
Ah, my lucky red hat. Clean as a whistle! |
You! You did this to me! |
Homer, please. No one's going to notice if you wear a pink shirt to work. |
Wait a minute, go back. Zoom in. Why is that man in pink? |
Oh, that's Homer Simpson, sir. He's one of your boobs from Sector 7-G. |
Simpson, eh? Well, judging by his outlandish attire, he's some sort of free-thinking anarchist. |
I'll call security, sir. |
Excellent. These color monitors have already paid for themselves. |
Hey Homer, we saved you a doughnut. |
It has pink frosting! |
Mmm, thanks -- It looks... Hey, wait a minute! Just because I'm wearing a pink shirt, it doesn't mean I'm some kind of a... pink doughnut-eater! Although it is tempting -- |
Drop that doughnut. |
Let's go, Pinky. |
You don't understand... my son just threw his red hat in with the white laundry... |
Spare me the tired semantics of the Simpson family! Take him away! |
You know, Mr. Burns, his body cavity search revealed nothing and we must have x-rayed him a hundred times. Maybe he's telling the truth. |
Or perhaps you two are in cahoots. Smithers, I seem to recall you had a penchant for bell-bottom trousers back in '79. |
Uh, sir, that was my costume from the plant production of H.M.S. Pinafore. |
Oh, yes, of course. Your spirited hornpipe stole the show, as I recall. Now Doctor, what shall we do about our free wheeling fop over here? |
Well, Monty, it used to be that establishing a patient's sanity took months. That's all changed, thanks to the "Marvin Monroe Take Home Personality Test." Twenty simple questions that will determine just how crazy or meshuggenah, someone is. |
Print name? |
Honey, do me a favor. Fill out this form. |
Homer, this is an intimate psychological profile. I can't fill this out for you. |
All right, all right. I'll get Lisa to do it. |
Lisa, you like homework. Could you fill out this form for me? |
LISA IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY / |
Well, all right -- if you listen to the poem I just wrote. |
Meditations on turning eight, by Lisa Simpson. I had a cat named Snowball -- She died, she died! Mom said she was sleeping -- She lied, she lied! Why oh why is my cat dead? Couldn't that Chrysler hit me, instead? I had a hamster named Snuffy -- He died, -- |
No deal. |
Dad, maybe you should do this. |
Son, it's no different than the time I let you vote for me. Remember that absentee ballot? |
Oh, yeah. |
Our $50,000 Home Video Finalists are: "Man Breaking Hip." |
"Dog on Fire." Ruff! Anybody order a hot dog? |
Look at him! |
And finally, "Baby With A Nail Gun." |
Okay, it's time to cast your votes now. |
Dog on Fire! Dog on Fire! |
Hey, Dad. "Do you hear voices?" |
Yes, I'm hearing one right now, while I'm trying to watch TV. |
Yes. "Are you quick to anger?" |
Bart! Shut up or I'll shut you up! |
Yes. "Do you wet your pants?" Well, even the best of us has an occasional accident. |
So, did I pass? |
Careful, men. He wets his pants. |
The devil with his fly open. |
Right... |
That's a spill on a floor with bugs goin' after it. They're gonna eat it. |
Good... |
Arrghh! |
HAPPY BIRTHDAY LISA / |
The boy! This isn't fair! How can you tell who's sane and who's insane? |
Well, we have a very simple method. |
Whoever has that stamp on his hand is insane. |
Put him in with the big white guy who thinks he's a little black guy. |
Who are you? |
Hi. I'm Michael Jackson, from the Jacksons. |
I'm Homer Simpson, from the Simpsons. |
I can't believe you've never heard of me. I'm a very popular entertainer. |
Oh, of course I've heard of you. I mean you'd have to be living under a rock not to know -- what'd you say your name was? |
Michael Jackson. |
Doesn't ring a bell. |
Thriller? |
What was that last one? |
Thriller. |
Well, how about this? BILLIE JEAN IS NOT MY LOVER / SHE'S JUST A GIRL WHO SAYS THAT I AM THE ONE / BUT THE KID IS NOT MY SON. HEE, HEE, HEE! |