The Simpsons (1989–…): Season 23, Episode 3 - Treehouse of Horror XXII - full transcript

Homer takes a dangerous dive into an isolated canyon on Candy Peak, but when a crashing boulder traps his arm, he channels Aron Ralston to save himself. In "The Diving Bell and Butterball,"...

Massive haul
this year.

To candy!

Fee-fi-fo-fum, give me
all your candy and gum!

Who are you
and why do you want our candy?

Your mother is
the switch witch--

a sort of tooth
fairy dealie.

I take your sugary sweets
and I give you healthy items.

Plain brown toothbrushes,
unflavored dental floss

and fun-sized mouthwashes--
TSA approved.

This is exactly why
kids need a union.

Now remember, Homie,
that candy goes to...



Our fighting
men and women overseas.

It's our way of letting them
know we're having fun back here.

No sneaking off and eating
that candy yourself.

Marge, you know
I'd never do that.

I'm too scared
of the evil switch witch.

The switch witch is me.

You know, on some level,
I've always known.

("Flight" from Psycho soundtrack
playing)

♪ The Simpsons 23x03 ♪
Treehouse of Horrors XXII
Original Air Date on October 30, 2011

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

♪ I've got candy,
skip to my Lou ♪

♪ My insulin will spike,
that's what it's gonna do ♪

♪ I'm gonna buy me
some diabetic shoes ♪

♪ Skip to my Lou my... ♪



What the...?!

D'oh!

Hello, 911?

I need a helicopter rescue
and some cold milk.

Copy that, sir.

We'll be there in 20 minutes.

What?! I can't wait
that long for candy!

The only sane thing to do
is chew off my arm.

Ow! Ow!

I'm not gonna swallow, 'cause
I want to save room for candy.

Oops.

D'oh!

Mm!

I'm really getting
the hang of this.

All worth it for candy.

No...!

("Flight" from Psycho soundtrack
playing)

Dad? Dad?

He opened his eyes!

Mom!

Okay, I'm on the floor.

I can't move.

So far, a normal
Sunday morning.

Homie, you're
paralyzed.

But we love you and
will never give up hope.

Can his funeral be
on a school day?

This is so horrible.

I can't speak!

How did this happen?

Last thing I remember,

I was decorating the house
for Halloween.

Ah, Halloween.

The one time of year
when the squalor of our home

works to our advantage.

Where's that spider? Ah.

Squeeze, squeeze!

Squeeze, squeeze!

A real spider would get so mad
if I did this.

I wonder if this thing
has batteries.

It's alive?!

Ow!

Hmm. Well, at least
I still look good.

Okay, handsome, that's
enough primping.

Just because you've
had a little setback

doesn't mean you can't
look your best.

Oh, Marge.

This is the purest love there
is: patient, supportive...

Ooh, cleavage.

Dad, I'm going to entertain you

with the help of
The Brothers Karamazov.

"Alexey Fyodorovitch Karamazov
was the third son

"of Fyodor Pavlovitch
Karamazov,

"a landowner well known
in our district in his own day,

and still remembered
among us..."

Oh, my God.

She's still on
the first sentence!

Must make her stop.

How to express my...

Dad! Ew.

Anyway, continuing.

"For the present,
I will only say

that this 'landowner'--
for so we..."

Ew! Dad!

Wait a minute.

Can you pass gas at will?

Fart once for no, twice for yes.

Oh, my God!

Do you realize what this means?

Well, it means
that you can communicate.

Exactly.

I'll recite the alphabet,
and you tell me when to stop.

A, B, C, D...

D.

Next letter.

A, B, C, D, E...

"D, E."

Amazing!

Oh, but before we continue.

Okay.

A...

"D, E, A."

"Dearest Marge, though my body

"cannot move,
my heart still beats

"and my brain still brains.

"I miss holding you in my arms

"more than my butt can say.

"Perhaps someday
there will be a cure.

"Although if it requires

"months of difficult
physical therapy, I'll pass.

"You are the
shining light

"that gets me through
my darkest hours.

"For further communication,
I will require more beans.

I love you."

Oh, Homie.

Shh-shh-shh.

Don't say a word.

I guess my life isn't so bad.

With the help
of my loving family,

I even published my first book.

And I've finally reached
a state of serenity and...

Another spider!

What's this bite gonna do?

My wrists are tingling.

I feel new powers
surging within me!

He's got
the proportionate strength

of a paralyzed spider!

Forget paying for my kid's
operation-- I'm out of here!

They say no two ass-webs
are the same.

Beautiful in its way.

Want to go home
and celebrate?

Whoo!

I wish I could
move like him.

Springfield, my hometown.

Pretty little place.

Although, even
the Garden of Eden

could use a nice cleansing rain
now and then.

My money's on the kid.

Hey, whiskers.

Want to party?

Spend less time on your back
and more time on your knees.

Hmm?

Have I lost
my back-alley beauty?

Well, those who can't do, teach.

No more distractions.

I have work to do.

All these years,
I thought murder was a sin.

Then I got new instructions
from the good Lord Himself

in his favorite language--
English.

Slay Montgomery Burns

and pee in his ashes!

Are you sure, Lord?

If you're having trouble
with the second part,

drink a lot of water.

Now I've got to go.

A hip-hop star
is thanking me at the VMAs.

And so white-bread Ned

became the avenging sword
of the Lord.

Peter, Andrew, James
the Greater, James the Lesser,

John, Philip, Thaddeus.

Heavenly Father, I...

Quiet, you!

Your next divine
whack job is a twofer.

I command you to kill
Patty and Selma Bouvier.

Patty and Selma?

Sure they smoke, and they don't
shave much of anything,

but do they deserve to die?

Do not question me,
the star of the Bible.

Now, on a non-murder-
related note,

I want you to find out

what's making that funny noise
in Homer Simpson's car.

It's, uh, it's, you know,

it's like a
chigga-chigga-chigga-chigga.

But you only hear it
when you're driving over 30.

And you never hear it
when you take it to the shop.

Then it sounds perfect.

Yes, Lord!

Homer, have you noticed
how many of your enemies

have died lately?

Mr. Burns, Sideshow Bob...

You forgot Patty and Selma.

Oh, wait.
That hasn't happened yet.

Patty and Selma?

Who's next,
Ned Flanders?

Now, how would that work?

Huh?

Okay, stupid Flanders,

first I want you to kill
that guy at the ice cream parlor

who gave Homer Simpson a cone
that had a little air in it.

Really?

Come on!
God does crazy things!

Check your Old Testament.
Hey, Dad.

Hey Bart...
Uh, I mean, Jesus.

Hey son, you want Flanders to
kill anybody?

He's totally in my power.

Well, there's a tall boy
in front of me

in class so I can't see
the board.

And I sayeth unto you,

slay every tall boy in town!

Yeah!
Yeah!

Homer Simpson!

You made a killer out of me!

Yeah, and what are you gonna do
about it?

I'm going to kill you!

- Because of you, I'm going to Hell!
- Language.

Hell!
Damn! Backside!

Nothing matters anymore!

I'm goin' down and my
hand-basket seats two!

Wake up, Flanders!

There is no Hell,
and there is no God.

If there were, would
He let me do this?

Why you little...

What happened?!

Uh... Flanders killed Homer.

But, but...

But you're God.

Couldn't you make everything
the way it was?

Well, I could.

But the big man downstairs
wouldn't like it.

Get me a coffee!

Yes, sir.

Could this get any worse?

Honey, come back to bed.

Oh, for cryin' out loud!

People, you are on the most

inhospitable planet
in the galaxy.

Extreme temperatures...

vicious indigenous life forms...

Are there any questions? Yes?

Are we in Kansas anymore?
No.

Well, are we in Nebraska?

No!
We are not in any state!

Oh, oh, is it Michigan?

Nobody talk anymore!

You will now direct your
attention to our C.E.O.,

Mr. Krusty the clown.

We are here on this fakakta
planet for one reason:

Hilarium.

Spray this in an audience and
they'll laugh at anything.

And I need some now.

Gotta play a Nazi party rally.

Oh, yeah, they're back.

Our spies will go planet-side,
locate said Hilarium

and contact us so that we may
begin extraction.

This is a delicate mission that
requires utter loyalty.

I can think of no better
candidate

than the resentful guy in the
wheelchair who has just arrived.

Yes, I think this is gonna work
out just fine.

All strapped in?

Yep.

Now prepare to take an
incredible journey across the room!

Yo.

Whoa!
Check out this bitchin' bod!

Oh, man, if I could just have

five minutes alone with my
old bullies...

Hey, avaturd.

Are you guys gonna beat me up?

Naw, we can't.

These avatars cost
$80 billion each.

But your human body costs
nothing.

Come on, let's bond,
you stupid jerk.

That's a Japanese outlet, Bart.
You need an adapter.

Oh, maybe I'll just take a taxi.

Where you go?
Where you go?

No meter, is cheaper, yeah?

No, thanks.

Suit yourself, you
one-eyed bastard.

Aw, the only thing that looks
good on this stupid planet

are the bananas.

Hmm?!

Ay, caramba!

Thanks, dude.

I am a female!

You don't have to yell!

I am not yelling!
This is my seductive voice!

I am called Kamala.

Oh! Even when we're monsters,
he gets the girl.

Fool! Every part of
this world is alive!

Apologize to sister rock!

Sorry, sister rock.

Now you've murdered our
brothers, the flowers!

Stupid! Stupid!

Now you're having
sex with Uncle Tree!

Thank the Almighty
Fungus you are wiser

and cuter than your friend.

Hey, what gives, man?

And now let us touch
testicles and mate for life.

Don't you mean tentacles?

I know what I said!

Ay, caramba!

Today you are a man.
Mazel Tov!

So... was it okay?

It was serviceable!

Ah, man, back on Earth we
don't have so many moons.

What do you mean,
"back on Earth"?

Uh... it's a place on the other
side of this planet that's...

very rainy so you can only see
one moon.

You know, like Portland.

I never hear of
this Port-land.

But on Rigel Seven, lack of eye
contact and too many details

indicate the
telling of truth.

I love you, sugar-slime.

Man, you are full
of surprises.

I can't believe I'm getting
combat pay for this.

Well done, young man!
Our daughter is with child.

Here.

Feel the wonder of
one million fetuses!

You said you
were using birth control!

That only keeps me from giving
birth while we are having sex.

How do those mountains float?

They don't.
They are falling.

Now that Kamala has
a slug in the oven,

we must make sure she gets
her daily dose of Hilarium.

Without it, her crankiness will
become unbearable.

Unfortunately our environment is
too hostile to grow pickles.

And the only flavor ice cream
we have is butter brickle.

no pickles,
butter brickle.

It is the Rigelian way.

So, where can I load up on this
Hilarium?

Listen closely.

The Hilarium is found in the
sacred secretions of the queen!

We have located the Hilarium.

Lock in on my signal.

Traitor! How dare you betray
the planet I got laid on?!

They're all in one place.
Let's fry these calamari

and dip 'em in a sauce made
of their own blood!

And wine from
their own grapes.

That's not so bad.

It's a little bad.

So Kamala, where do we keep all
our tanks and planes and stuff?

We have no tanks.
Our planet will protect us.

Oh, man, you sound like my
art teacher.

Look a little like her, too.

I guess this is a good time

to tell you I've been a double
agent all this time.

But now I am
totally on your side.

And this is a good time to tell
you I have space warts.

And I got them from
Milhouse.

Time for a good old-fashioned

servo-suit/bulldozer-saurus
fight!

Dammit!

Yo, Colonel! Uh, you've got
some schmutz on your cheek.

Where?...
Here?

Skinner...!

Had they asked
for the Hilarium,

we would simply have
given it to them.

In Rigelian there is no word
for "yours" or "mine."

That's the reason we didn't enjoy
the movie Yours, Mine and Ours.

Halloween is over,
which means, America,

it's time to start your
Christmas shopping.

Infuse our stagnant economy with
dollars you don't really have.

And whatever you do, avoid the
urge to make homemade gifts.

Knitting one sweater for someone
costs 27 Americans their jobs.

And don't forget, Christmas

is a wonderful time to
take up alcoholism.

Come on, you see your
family all year round.

The holidays are for
your bartender.

When are we doing
the Black Swan?

== sync, corrected by elderman ==