The Simpsons (1989–…): Season 23, Episode 12 - Moe Goes from Rags to Riches - full transcript

While Bart tries to regain Milhouse's friendship, Moe's bar cleaning rag tells his unlikely story of how he got to where he is today.

D'oh!

♪ The Simpsons 23x12 ♪
Moe Goes From Rags to Riches
Original Air Date on January 29, 2012

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

And that's why I really don't
believe there's a God.

Thank you,
and God bless America.

You were only supposed to lead
us in the Pledge of Allegiance.

I'm pretty sure it was
in there somewhere.

Oh. Now, let me conclude by
thanking Moe the bartender

for hosting this meeting

while City Hall is
fumigated for bedbugs.

Bedbugs?



Just why is there a bed
in City Hall?

Er, uh, meeting adjourned!

♪ All night long

♪ All night ♪

♪ All night
♪ All night ♪

♪ All night long

♪ All night ♪

♪ All night
♪ All night ♪

♪ All night long

♪ All night ♪

♪ All night
♪ All night ♪

♪ All night long

♪ All night ♪

♪ Unh!



♪ Everyone you meet

♪ They're jamming in the street ♪
♪ All night ♪

♪ All night long
♪ All night ♪

♪ Yeah, I said...

This is so convenient!

I can go straight from
doing my civic duty

to having a beer with
my best friend Carl.

And I can toss back a Duff
Sangre de los Muertos

with my best friend:
Mexican Duffman.

Ho-la!

Hey, Moe,
who's your best friend?

Uh...

Well, uh...
Well, I just made friends

with Pepto-Bismol on Facebook,
and, uh... um...

Hey, would you look at that?
There's a spot on the bar.

Come on!

You know what?

I think Moe's best friend
is really that bar rag.

That's even sadder than being
friends with Milhouse!

You know something, Bart?

I'm getting tired
of things like that.

Tired of what? I dump
on you, and you take it.

That's how friendship works.

Not anymore.
Friendship over.

Taxi!

What gives?
He's not crawling back.

Even a kid who wears a "Finding
Nemo" back brace has some pride.

You went too far
this time, Bart.

Hey, Moe! I got a job here for
your "best friend," the bar rag.

Me, too!

Witty.

Great meeting, though.

Yes, that's right,
everyone laugh at the rag.

But I was not always

this be-stainèd swatch
you see before you.

Oh, no, gentles.

We begin in early
medieval France...

A young peasant wife struggles
to feed her family...

Maman, we are starving...

Listen to the grumbling
of our estomacs!

That's not your estomacs!

It's some men speaking French!

Now, I have work to do.
Complain to your papa.

Papa?
He is no help at all.

Marguerite, I leave to fight
in Flanders!

Stupid Flanders.

All tremble before
the duc de Springfield!

That's enough!

Madame, I would like you

to weave me a tapestry
with the following images:

Me healing the sick.

Me killing the healthy.

Me marrying my sister.

A long winter
where nothing happens.

Me relaxing with friends.

You know, the standard stuff.

For this, I shall pay you
two copper coins.

You have 25 years
to complete it.

You may have one
15-minute déjeuner.

Oh, these innocent creatures
are blocking my path.

I could walk six paces
that way...

or I could
kill them all right now!

I am heartily sorry
and confess all my sins.

Absolved!

Avancez!

In their dying fury,

those beasts began
expelling demon wool.

And the restless spirits
of those murdered sheep

compelled Marguerite
to loom ceaselessly,

even as her husband
went off to fight

again and again...

and again.

As the years went by,

the images she loomed
were not of the Duc,

but rather depictions
of the adventures

that cloth would experience
over the centuries.

Oh, and by the way...

that tapestry was me.

Right, and I was
the Gutenberg Bible.

Maman, we have failed to grow.

We've had too little food!

Is it too little food
or too much complaining?

Maman, you are overstressed.
You need a vacation.

Perhaps to the
South of France.

We're in the
South of France!

One day, as rosy-fingered Dawn

wiped the morning gunk
from her eyes,

the Duc came to claim
his infernal drapes.

What an age for prosthetics
we live in.

Silence!
I have reached my verdict.

It's not what I expected.

And yet...
it's beautiful!

But it's also
not what I expected.

Burn down their house!

But Le Duc was about
to be called home

to the worst kind of hell:
medieval hell.

Hey, let's show some French
courage and beat up the corpse!

Come on, Ralphie,
have a try.

Oh! We're submitting that

to France's
Funniest Cave Paintings.

Hm-hmm, mm-hm.

Mm-hmm, hm.

Even for a tapestry
made of demon wool,

this was hard to watch.

I was moved to a
magnificent cathedral

and learned that tapestries

were the rock stars
of the Middle Ages.

I had legions of what
you now call groupies.

It felt like the good times

known as the Dark Ages
would never end.

But then cruel fate knocked
upon the door...

Guys, it ain't working--
the door's too strong.

Go, Vikings.

Ow! Stop it!

You just broke
your vow of silence.

It wasn't a vow.
I just didn't want to talk to you.

Oh!

This Viking stuff
is too dangerous.

I'm going to become a gentleman
art thief.

Huh?

Hmm, what the...?

Spooky.

Hmm... hmm.

- That was the first time
- I knew anguish and fear.

Nothing will ever staunch
the pain of that memory.

Oh. Well, that helps.

Milhouse!

Milhouse!

What do you--

Hmm?

What is it, Bart?

Listen, um... after our fight,
I couldn't sleep.

Well, I was doing fine.

Warm glass of milk, some choice
cuts from The Wriggles

and I was out.

Come on, man. At least listen
to what I have to say.

Okay...

Um... well...

this is usually the part
where you say you're sorry.

Bart, I'm not your puppet.

I know, I made you
into a real boy last week.

And I'll always be grateful.

But it's time you started
treating me with respect.

They're a tough pair, huh?

If you let me in,
I'll give you the Heimlich.

Hm-mm.

So to recap:
I had been unjustly torn

from my lofty perch.

I wound up as a barter
in Persia.

You have taken our gold

and jewels and given us
this faded cloth?!

That's right. And if anyone
asked who swindled you,

it was Christians.

Remember that name:
Christians.

I found myself in the court
of the young Persian king,

a cruel king who demanded

constant entertainment
from his wives.



Eh. Throw her in the
pit of boring wives.

We never go out anymore.

Are you even
listening to me?

My sister has a
much bigger pit.

Dude, you've already
discarded, like, 500 wives.

I think it's weird
that you're counting.

Send in the next one!

Good evening, Your Majesty.

May I tell you your slippers
are as curly as everyone says?

Eh, pit her.

Wait, wait, wait!

I can, uh, tell you a story!

Cease your dragging!

Uh... There once was a boy
named Ali Baba.

He and his elder brother Cassim

were the sons of a merchant

who traded in camels
and spices and--

Okay, just a couple thoughts
on your direction so far.

One day, while out for a walk,

Ali Baba was set upon
by a thief.

Make that two thieves!

A million thieves!

Too many.

Forty thieves.

With her inventiveness and wit,

the clever wife
entertained her king

for a thousand and one nights.

And while he slept, she freed
her imprisoned compatriots.

Uh, it was cooler in the pit.

And that's how the camel
got its hump.

Another story!

For once,
couldn't you just take

a few minutes to let the
previous story sink in?

You dare refuse your king?

Guards!

Uh-oh.

My downward spiral continued.

Only cowards use blindfolds.

I didn't know
you were doing that!

I was unfit for even the most
sordid uses.

How's your neck, Your Lordship?
No splinters or nuffin'?

I fear the axe
less than that filthy rag.

You talk fancy now, but you'll
twitch like the rest.

All too true, I fear.

Shut up!

Your tongue is even
sharper than your--

But then, at my
lowest ebb, a moment of hope.

I played a pivotal role
in creating

one of the masterpieces
of Western art.

Michelangelo!

When will you be finished?

Hey, you want a quickie?
You go to Raphael, baby.

The artist was never satisfied.

How about now?
Nope.

That's perfect!

Now would you like to
protect your investment

with a clear coat?

Hm, let me discuss it
with my wife.

The masterpiece was finished

and so was the use for me.

And then...

You know, Moe, it might be
time to buy a new bar rag.

Yeah, yeah, sure thing.
I'll get right on it.

No way I would
abandon you, Raggie.

You're my best friend.

So, I guess you didn't eat
that "special cheese"

- that I gave you yesterday, huh?
- Yeah.

Oh, Milhouse,

what do I have to do, besides
changing in any way,

to get you to forgive me?

Gee, Bart, you seem,
uh-- how can I put it?--

Milhousey.

Really?
It's not that bad, is it?

Bart,
you'll never learn.

"Milhouse, you're the closest
thing I have to a brother.

"A brother with the wisdom
of an older sister.

"And that's why we squabble,
'cause families always do.

"But in the end,
they're still a family.

What do you say... brother?"

Not bad. Did Lisa write that?

Yes, I did.
Now I'm going to bed.

I want something that comes from
you, Bart. We're done here.

But-but-but...

The glasses are off!

My degradation continued.

An enterprising seamstress

turned me into the flag
of a fledgling nation.

Unfortunately, a nation
on the wrong side of history.

- Like everyone else, I
- was hit hard by the depression.

What's for dinner, Ma?

Rag soup!

Needs flavor.

Mmm, that's better!

I was part of an expedition

to the top of Mount Everest,

one that had the distinction
of failing un-heroically.

Oxygen...

I need oxygen!

Come on, man. A few more balloons
and this'll look really awesome.

D'oh!

Worst... climbing... Everest.

A yeti found me

and brought me home
as a present to his son.

Ah, ah!

Mmm...

And now my thousand-year
fall from grace is complete.

I guess I should be happy here,
with my sad, but predictable...

Moe! Moe! Wake up!

Oh no, I don't want to find out
what's worse than you!

Milhouse!

I've been out here
all night, man.

Just let me know what it'll take
for you to forgive me.

Can I punch you?
Sure.

Can I have someone
else punch you?

Sure. What've you got?

Puppy Goo-Goo coming my way?

Ay carumba!

I'm glad it's over.

I wasn't comfortable
having the upper hand.

From now on I'll dominate you
in ways you don't realize.

That's all I ever wanted.

Where'd it go?
Where'd it go?

Hey, Chief Wiggum!
Can you help me find my bar rag?

I can't even find my car
in the parking lot at the mall.

There was half a kilo of heroin
and two suspects inside.

Hey! Hey!

Can you throw me my house key?
Please!

It's got a green thingy on it!

Stop!

Ooh!

Hey, there's some
Pringles in here.

Nope. Tear gas.

Haven't forgotten
about your rag, Moe!

I'm in
hell, I'm in hell, I'm in hell,

I'm in hell...

Perhaps one of you garments

would like to narrate
for a while.

Men's extra large underwear?

I'm saving my strength.

He's going bike riding today.

Come on in!

You've got my
rag! But how?

Well, during
the town meeting,

which now seems
like years ago,

I forgot my purse
at your bar.

And when I came back to get it,

I saw how much
you love that rag.

Num-num-num-num-num-num.

It seemed a little "ripe,"

so I brought it home
to clean it for you.

Thanks, Marge.

That rag is my only friend
in the world.

Well, that's not true!

Everyone in this family
is your friend.

Your bar is the closest
thing this town has

to an Algonquin roundtable.

What about that Round Table
Pizza run by that Algonquin guy?

Yeah, yeah,
okay, second closest.

So you's all like me?
Even you, maestro?

Milhouse.

Yeah, I, I knew
it was something stupid.

Well, thanks, everybody.

I... I'm always gonna
remember today as the day

that I learned to open
my heart to human beings

and not old pieces of cloth.

Ha, crazy me, Thinking
I needed a rag for a friend.

So, this is how it ends.

The once magnificent
tapestry tossed aside

yet again like a common Kleenex.

Good-bye, cruel... What the...?

In all my years,

this is a love
like I have never felt.

Sweet, pure and forever.

Well, all marriages
have their ups and downs.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==