The Simpsons (1989–…): Season 19, Episode 16 - Papa Don't Leech - full transcript

When the Simpsons discover that Lurleen Lumpkin is on the skids, Marge reluctantly agrees to take her in and help her find her deadbeat dad who abandoned her 30 years ago.

The Simpsons 1916 :
"Papa Don't Leech"

Dad, are you sure
you're okay to drive at night?

It's night?!

All right, that's it. Pull over.

Now don't you worry.

Just sit back and relax
to the smooth sounds of Tommy

Dorsey's All-White Orchestra.

Son, let this music take you

to a time when girls were girls
and a Hershey bar was

as thick as a phone book.

- I'm sick of this song!
- o/~ Catch a falling star and.... o/~



I don't like this one either...

too optimistic!

Too slow!

Too fast!

No zazz!

Too much zazz!

More boogie!

Less woogie!

My back hurts!
All my friends are dead!

Nice one.

Thanks.

Oh, no, we're gonna die.

Oh, no, we're gonna die.

Oh, no...



Son, call me an ambulance.

And while I'm in the hospital,

you'll have to visit me every day.

And then I'll have to come
live with you while I recover.

Eventually I'll die in your home,
which'll hurt the resale value,

but it'll all be...

Dad?

Dad? Wake up!

Who's... what, who?

Oh, I was having the
most wonderful dream.

I always wake up

just before the good part.

You can just drop me off here.

I'll see you later, honey.

Er, uh, yes?

I'm delivering your Scout
Gal Cookies, Mayor Quimby!

That'll be $30.

For three boxes?

The money helps us
serve the community.

We plant trees, pick up litter,
cut up milk bones

- for old dogs...
- It was rhetorical question.

And I used rhetoric in my answer?

Let's just move on.

27 to the left and open.

Where's all the money?

Why, it's right...

We spent all our money on that
new slogan for Springfield.

Um, what say you
leave the cookies,

and I pay you double next year?

Sir, I didn't get this
"skepticism" merit badge

falling for promises like that.

If you don't give me
those cookies, I'll pass a law

forcing your organization
to accept gay scout leaders.

I would strongly support
that measure.

Just give me those cookies!

- You get it...
- Let go.

This is a low point
for my administration.

No. You give it.

People of Springfield,
our city is broke.

Uh, when you say broke,

do you mean really broke,
or uh, "O.J. Simpson broke"?

Really broke!

I've been reduced to using
this cheap novelty gavel.

Order! Order!

Homer Simpson.

I know a lot of you from church
and the market and such.

And I'm not much for talkin',
but seems to me,

in hard times like these
that we Americans come together.

So I say we roll up our sleeves,
and fake a disaster

to trick the federal government
out of relief money.

Rip off the federal government?

Mmm, I have reservations...

for dinner in five minutes.

So all in favor, say "aye"!

- Aye!
- The "ayes" have it.

Now, when exactly

did the hurricane pass
through your town?

Er, uh, five minutes ago.

You just missed it.

FEMA will help you
rebuild this town.

Your $10 million will arrive
as soon as you submit this form,

and the, uh,
$2,500 processing fee.

And that's how
a fake FEMA official scammed us

out of $2,500.
We are now worse than broke.

Panic not, fellow
Springfielders!

I've gone through the town's
financial records, and it turns out

there are millions
in uncollected city taxes.

We shall collect each
and every back tax owed!

Everyone from...

Comic Book Guy to...

... Milhouse!

No one shall be spared!

Dozens of swindling deadbeats,

as well as this respected reporter

who made an honest mistake,
have paid their back taxes,

leaving only one
outstanding debtor:

country music star

Lurleen Lumpkin,
seen here at the height of her fame.

o/~ Bunk with me

tonight, Kermit o/~

o/~ Bunk with me

tonight... o/~

Uh, really, Lurleen?

Hey, Dad,

that's the singer
you used to manage!

Oh, right.

Dad was Colonel Homer
and he wore that awesome suit

and Lurleen wanted
to bunk his brains out!

But I forget how Mom felt
about it.

Kids, marriage is like a car.

Along the way it has
its bumps and dings,

and this country
can't make one

that lasts more
than five years.

With Lurleen I just

walked past the showroom
and didn't even go inside.

Now let's return
to watching the news.

Ms. Lumpkin owed $50,000
in back taxes.

With penalties, interest and
the celebrity resentment tax,

that sum has grown
to $12 million.

However, she's been missing
for several years,

since her career went
into a downward spiral.

I told her not to go
into one of those.

The entire city
is searching for her.

Not for any reward,
but for the pleasure

of destroying someone
they once admired.

Save some for me!

Got her!

Krusty?

I just want to win
one thing in my life!

It's not real.

Don't you dare ruin
the moment!

Look at those idiots.

I bet Lurleen's a million miles
away right now.

Hey, Homer.

Shh! I'm more wanted
than the last petal

- on a bloomin' onion.
- Don't worry. You can stay with us.

I'm sure Marge will be cool.

I'm taking you to your home,
before you wreck mine!

You live here?

Bye, Marge.

Well, at least she's got a friend.

It's your turn to clean the toilet.

Where is it?

You're holding it.

Get in!

Oh, come on.

Thanks, Marge.

Gee, after all that's passed
between us, I mean...

Well, you're a bigger
woman than I am.

Are you calling me fat?

No, no, no!

I'll just be quiet.

Lurleen, this barbecue
is delicious!

Oh, it's a traditional
Southern recipe:

ketchup, Coca-Cola,
and fricasseed possum.

Just kiddin'.
It's actually chicken.

Well, I think it's wonderful.

My diet starts tomorrow!

Listen, I'm sorry I called you
all those mean things

like... oh, I don't
even remember.

- Confederate degenerate?
- Southern-fried succubus?

Hee-haw ho?

Oh, that's
all right, Marge.

I'm just so grateful
that y'all took me in

- and hid me from...
- Freeze, Patsy Crime!

- Chief, you okay?
- Yeah, yeah.

Why'd you jump off the roof?

I just wanted
to be extraordinary.

Your Honor, I would love to pay
the money I owe,

but country music changed,
and I went out of style.

Objection!
Speculating of trends in country music.

- of trends in country music.
- I'm going to allow it.

Lurleen,
the court orders you

to make payments
of a hundred dollars a week

till such time as your music
comes back in style

or becomes appreciated
for its camp value.

All right, what's the next case?

Judge, next we have a man

who is suing his wife
for not dressing sexy enough

in "The Case
of the Horny Husband."

What the...?

Well, I thought if we acted
like The People's Court,

some day we'd
beThe People's Court.

And, uh, well,
a bailiff can dream, can't he?

No, he can't.

I don't get it, Lurleen.
How did you lose all your money?

Did it go up your nose?
Between your toes?

Sadly, no.

Most of my money went
to my ex-husbands.

Boy, you sure have married
a lot of super-hunks.

Well, from now on,

the only thing I'm gonna be
married to is my work.

I've already accepted
"a high-octane job

in the nightlife industry."

All right, I need you to get the
rats outta the jukebox,

and clean the vomit out
of the pool table pockets,

and then you
got the job.

Oh, and you've gotta share
your tips with Manuel,

who's, uh, actually me
with a fake moustache.

Es good job.

You should take it.

Say, Lurleen,
are you Jamaican?

'Cause "Jamaican" me crazy.

That's sweet,
but I'm not lookin' to date.

No, I'm glad you said that.

'Cause you reminded me
that I'm not looking a David.

So... so great.

Hey, Lurleen, I'm going down
to the rock quarry tonight

to throw stones
at the woodchucks.

- Want to come?
- No.

That's okay.
I understand.

Someone's lookin'
at a snake in her mailbox.

She turned down
Lenny and Carl?

That's like someone who doesn't
like hamburgers or hot dogs.

What could make her
hate men like that?

o/~ I was cryin' in my cradle o/~

o/~ When my daddy hopped a train o/~

o/~ He left a hole in my heart

and filled it up with pain o/~

o/~ I know no amount of liquor

will soothe my achin' ticker o/~

o/~ 'Cause the love for my deadbeat daddy o/~

o/~ Is still pumpin' through my veins. o/~

So that's it.

She's been burned by
the most important

man in her life...
her father.

How could a man
just abandon his family?

By which I mean, what is the method

he would use,
and could anyone do it?

Where you going?

Lurleen Lumpkin has
a hole in her heart,

and I'm gonna fill it.

I've talked to over 500 men
named Lumpkin.

Everyone at Lumpkin, Lumpkin
and Rosenthal Associates,

an Asian or Pacific Islander
named Cho Lum Kin...

Good luck
in searchings!

... but still no sign of Lurleen's dad!

Hello.

Are you Royce Lumpkin?

That's right.

The father
of Lurleen Lumpkin?

Lurleen?

I ain't seen my little girl
in 30 years.

She must be what, uh,
12, 13 by now?

She's 34,
and she's having a rough time!

Oh, man.

I better whiskey up
these corn flakes.

She needs to see you right away!

Oh, man.

I better heroin up
this orange juice.

There's only one man
who can hambone like that.

Daddy!

Lurleen?! My goodness.

Why, you're the spittin' image
of your mother's hotter sister!

Royce Lumpkin,
where you been?

I've been a dang fool. That's where.

Can you forgive me, Lurleen?

The way that I immediately
forgave myself?

I can, Daddy!

I made that hug happen!

Wait a minute. He's a deadbeat dad,

and yet, he's getting
as much love as me,

a dad too lazy to run away!

And he has hair! Oh!

Bart, get me my suicide axe.

No suicide axe!

Later.

You know what I like best
about this T-shirt?

I'll always be able to see
your face.

Oh, well, you don't

need a T-shirt
for that, Tootsie Pop,

'cause I ain't ever
gonna leave you again.

- Just sit still in my lap!
- What lap?

Yeah, all I see is
a gut with knees!

Why you little...

Get back here so we can put
our love on a shirt!

What?

Lurleen's daddy
comes back after 30 years,

and he's father of the year.
Why can't I leave for 30 years?

Fine with me.
Look, I packed you a bag.

- it might be cold outside.
- No problem. I bought you a hat.

Oh, I see. It's reverse psychology.

Well, in that case, I'm not going,
and I'm not staying.

And I'll cut my steak
with a spoon,

then take a walk
on the ceiling.

Oh, Daddy, you made me
the happiest girl

on whichever side of
the Mississippi this is.

And last night, I wrote
this song just for you.

o/~ For 30 years you made me cry o/~

o/~ But now I see
you ain't such a bad guy o/~

o/~ I haven't felt this good
since the Lord knows when o/~

o/~ And I'm sure
you got a million reasons o/~

o/~ For being gone
a hundred-twenty seasons o/~

o/~ My daddy's back o/~

o/~ And I'm feelin' like a daughter again o/~

o/~ Yeah, Daddy's back o/~
o/~ And I'm feelin' like a daughter o/~

o/~ Daddy's backo/~
o/~ And she's feelin' like she oughter o/~

o/~ Daddy's backo/~
o/~ And he's drinking bottled water o/~

o/~ Keep it down, I'm reading Harry Potter o/~

o/~ My body wash is Este Lauder o/~

o/~ Daddy's back and I'm feelin'

like a daughter again! o/~

o/~ And here comes Grampa
with an otter! o/~

Song's over, Dad.

Oh! I took three
buses to get here.

o/~ Daddy's a deadbeat o/~

o/~ He's leaving
his daughter again. o/~

I'm really worried
about Lurleen.

Yeah, me, too.

Since her father
re-abandoned her,

she's cut the word "pop"
out of all of our foods.

You'd think a house full
of crazy people would be fun.

It's actually really depressing.

Aw, cheer up.
You still got your talent,

and that new song you wrote
is gonna be a really big hit.

Here's a new song
that's rising faster

than a rocket
with a rocket up its butt.

It's from the Dixie Chicks!

o/~ We said some things
that came out wrong o/~

o/~ But now we've got
a brand-new song o/~

o/~ 'Cause free speech needs
curtailin' now and then o/~

o/~ We pledge allegiance
to Fox News o/~

o/~ Please take away
our right to choose... o/~

Ooh, that sounds

just like my song,
but how could they have heard...?

- Daddy!
- o/~ America's back o/~

o/~ And we're feeling
patri-otter again o/~

o/~ America's back o/~
o/~ And we're feeling patri-ottero/~

o/~ Freedom's a germ and we're o/~
o/~ Glad that we caught 'er o/~

o/~ Liberty has o/~
o/~ Never looked hotter o/~

o/~ I used to love o/~
o/~ Welcome Back Kottero/~

o/~ America's back o/~
o/~ And we're feeling patri-otter again! o/~

Take it away, Royce!

He wrote this song!

Hey!

If you need me, I'll be...

Oh, who am I kidding?

No one needs me.

Colonel Homer!

And Major Marge!

- Well, I don't...
- Lurleen, you're giving

your dad too much power
over the way

you feel about yourself.

Stop getting your self-esteem
from the men in your life.

Well, that's easy
for you to say.

You're married to a
kind, thoughtful genius.

Uh, yeah...

Marge, my fringes
are knotted again.

There's only one
person in the world

who can tell you
what to do.

And that person
is right here!

Santa Claus?!

No, no, that's just our
old Christmas decorations.

- Me?!
- Yes!

It's time for you
to take control of your own destiny.

You're not a doormat.
You're a door prize!

You're right, Marge.

And remember, you can do anything
you want in the world of country music,

Western wear merchandising
and TV movies.

Regular movies...
don't hold your breath.

But TV movies...
the sky's the limit.

Colonel, you're still my knight
in white polyester.

Ten percent Lycra.

Oh, I noticed.

Congratulations!
That song I wrote you

was so patriotic,
they decided to make it

into a Chevy commercial,
so I, uh, changed a few lines.

I don't know.

You're asking us
to sell out our song. And for what?

Cash money.

- Money? Ooh, we love money!
- Really? That's great!

I'm gonna buy me
a clock radio!

you are a thief!

A dirty, rotten, lowdown...

I think I can say it
better with this.

No, no, no, don't
hit him in the head!

He needs that to
think up our songs.

I'm Lurleen Lumpkin,
and he stole your song from me!

What?!

Okay, maybe I abandoned
my daughter

and stole her song,
but I'm still the most

honorable record producer
y'all have ever met.

Well, he's got us there.

Still, in human terms,
he's deplorable.

Let's make guitar
picks out of him!

No!

I'm droppin' y'all
as clients!

Oh, I can't thank
you guys enough.

Now I'm opening
for the Dixie Chicks,

and I may have just met
husband #4.

Babe, need a hundred
bucks for beer.

Ooh, I think he's a keeper.

Well, you're very welcome, Lurleen.
Of all the women who've hit on Homer

over the years, you're my favorite.

If you ever come
near Homer again,

I'll strangle you
with your own hair extensions.

That's right. I know.