The Simpsons (1989–…): Season 3, Episode 1 - Stark Raving Dad - full transcript
Homer accidentally lands in a mental hospital and ends up sharing a room with a white man who thinks he is Michael Jackson.
Bart.
Bart!
Hey, Bart.
Lisa! It's 6:00 a.m.
Something's wrong.
Dad died.
No, no, he's fine.
What do you know?
I'm relieved.
My birthday's in two days.
I'll be eight years old.
It's a big number--
almost double digits.
Enjoy it while you can.
Everything changes
when you hit the big 1 -0.
Your legs go.
Candy doesn't taste as good.
Let me pour my little heart out.
Sorry.
This old-timer does
ramble on sometimes.
I do so much for you
and you have disappointed me...
- on all my birthdays.
- Okay.
I've made things for you--
Okay, okay, okay!
It's done.
Birthday gift
coming your way!
Oh, thank you.
Bart, watch Maggie
while I get the laundry.
Can do.
Hmm, 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...
50 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.
Thank you, Marge.
Ahh!
Pink?!
I can't wear
pink to work.
Everybody wears white.
I'm not popular enough
to be different.
You have plenty
of white shirts.
Oh, gimme, gimme, gimme.
Oh, no! Pink!
Pink! Pink!
It's all over, Marge!
It's all over!
I don't know how this happened.
Ah, my lucky red hat.
Clean as a whistle.
You did this to me!
I... apologize.
No one will notice...
if you wear
a pink shirt to work.
Wait a minute.
Go back.
Zoom in.
Why is that man in pink?!
That's Homer Simpson--
a boob from Sector 7-G.
Judging by his
outlandish attire...
he's some sort
of freethinking anarchist.
I'll call security, sir.
Excellent.
Yes, these color monitors...
have already paid
for themselves.
Pink! I don't get
his statement.
Shh, shh, shh.
Coming.
Hey, Homer...
we saved you a doughnut.
It has pink frosting.
Thanks.
It looks--
Hey, wait a minute!
Just because I'm wearing pink...
doesn't mean I'm some kind
of 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 tiresome antics
of the Simpson family.
Take him away.
His body cavity search
revealed nothing.
We must have X-rayed him
a hundred times.
Maybe he's telling the truth.
Or you're in cahoots.
I recall you had a penchant
for bell-bottomed trousers...
back in '7 9.
That was my costume
for the plant production...
of H.M.S. Pinafore.
Yes, of course.
Your spirited hornpipe
stole the show.
Doctor, what should we do...
about our
freewheeling fop?
It used to be that
establishing sanity...
took months.
That's all changed...
thanks to the Marvin Monroe...
Take-Home Personality Test.
20 simple questions
that will determine...
just how crazy
or ''meshuggener'' someone is.
''Print name.''
Oh!
Hmm.
Hmm!
Honey, do me a favor.
Fill out this form.
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?
Well, all right...
if you listen to my poem.
D-ohh! Okay.
'''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--''
No deal.
Dad, you should do this.
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!.
Anyone order a hot dog?
Look at him!
And finally,
''Baby With a Nail Gun.''
Aw.
It's time to cast your votes.
''Dog on Fire!''
''Dog on Fire!''
Do you hear voices?
I'm hearing one now,
though 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?
Even the best of us
has an occasional accident.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
So did I pass?
No.
Bart!
Careful, men.
He wets his pants.
Uhh...
the devil with his fly open.
Right.
A spill on the floor
with bugs going after it.
Good.
The boy!
This isn't fair!
How can you tell
who's sane...
and who's insane?
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
the little black guy.
Who are you?
I'm MichaelJackson
from theJacksons.
I'm Homer Simpson
from the Simpsons.
I can't believe you never heard of me.
I'm a very popular entertainer.
Of course,
I've heard of you.
You'd have to be
living under a rock--
What's your name?
MichaelJackson.
Doesn't ring a bell.
Heard of MTV or Motown?
No.
''Beat It''?
You beat it.
''Thriller''?
What was that?
- ''Thriller.''
- No.
How about this?
# BillyJean 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 ##
Wow!
How do your feet do that?
The moonwalk?
No, your feet!
Raise your heel a bit.
Put a little pressure
on the ball of your foot.
Uh-huh.
Huh?
D'oh!
You seem like a nice guy.
Why are you here?
I wore a pink shirt.
I understand.
People thought I dressed crazy.
What did you wear?
One white glove...
covered with rhinestones.
##...and Scratchy Show ##
In the split second
before he died...
I bet Scratchy appreciated
his birthday present.
Do you see how this relates
to us?
You want that once-a-year
empty gesture?
You got it.
Hey, Michael,
I don't get it.
These guys seem as normal
as you and me.
Homer, this is Floyd.
He's an idiot savant.
He can multiply
any two numbers...
in his head just like that.
Five times nine.
Forty-five.
Wow!
This guy is the chief.
He's been here since 1 968.
Never says a word.
Hey, Chief.
Hello.
It's about time
somebody reach out to me.
Gee, I got to call my family.
This is embarrassing
calling from a nuthouse.
They think I'm a god.
I could call for you.
Oh, great.
Tell them this is
one of those places...
where rich women
lose weight.
Joe's Crematorium.
You kill 'em, we grill 'em.
Hello. Who is this?
Bart Simpson.
Who are you?
I'm MichaelJackson.
The MichaelJackson?
No way.
I'm with your father
in a mental institution.
Is Elvis with you?
He could be.
It's a big hospital.
If you're really MichaelJackson...
who were your
last four Grammy dates?
Brooke Shields, Diana Ross,
Emmanuel Lewis and Bubbles.
Shiver me timbers!
You are MichaelJackson!
Can you stay on the line while I get
all my friends and relatives?
I'm afraid not.
Your father needs your help.
You don't want him
to get a lobotomy, do you?
Hmm... lobotomy.
That's all right, son.
There's probably a downside
I don't see.
Uh-huh.
New Bedlam Asylum.
Loves us.
Needs us.
Fears he may never see us again.
MichaelJackson, whoo-hoo!
I love you, man.
Hey, Mom...
Dad's in a mental institution.
Oh, my God.
Mother was right.
Don't you worry.
Your family
will be here soon.
The only way out
ain't pretty.
What's that?
Dating a nurse.
I knew you'd send your father
to the crazy house.
You said poorhouse.
I said crazy house!
Poorhouse.
Crazy house!
Poorhouse.
Crazy house!
Hello, you've reached...
the New Bedlam
Wrongly-Committed Hotline.
All our operators
are currently busy.
Please stay on the line.
What's wrong, Homer?
This place is so strange.
Mike, I'm ashamed
to admit it to another guy...
but I'm... scared.
We all get scared sometimes.
Maybe I can help you.
Hot cakes...
football...
boobies--
Bubbles,
it's going to be a long night.
Please express yourselves.
In these sessions, we want you
to feel relaxed and uninhibited.
I was working
at an insurance company.
Youngest V.P. In the history
of the firm.
The job was my life.
Then one Monday morning,
I couldn't leave the house.
Was the door locked?
I just couldn't face
what was out there.
Was it raining?
No, Homer...
Dave suffers
from agoraphobia--
a fear of open areas
and crowds.
Dave, go on.
I knew I just couldn't make
that long drive to work.
Were you out of gas?
Baby.
Your husband suffers
from a persecution complex...
extreme paranoia
and bladder hostility.
If you talk to him
without mentioning Bart...
you'd see how sane he is.
You mean there really is
a Bart? Good Lord!
Mmm, pancakes.
Oh, Mr. Simpson,
you've got a visitor.
D'oh!
Marge!
Oh, Homie!
After talking to your wife...
we believe you're no threat
to yourself or others.
That's the most flattering thing
anyone ever said to me.
Could I have it in writing?
''Not insane.''
Hmm.
I'm proud of you, Homer.
Michael, you really helped me
get through this.
If you ever find your marbles,
come visit us.
How about today?
I'm here voluntarily.
You are? Why?
In 1 97 9, I got real depressed...
when my Off the Wall album...
just got one lousy
Grammy nomination.
Joe's Taxidermy.
You snuff'em, we stuff'em.
Boy, when I get home...
I'm going to wrap my hands
around your neck...
and smother you with kisses.
Whatever they got you on,
cut the dose.
I'm bringing
MichaelJackson home...
for a few days.
Isn't that cute?
He's heard of you.
Make sure we have cold cuts,
and put some beer on ice--
I'm a vegetarian,
and I don't drink.
Are you sure
you're here voluntarily?
Yes.
Please make sure...
he doesn't tell anybody
I'm coming.
Yes, Dad, I solemnly swear...
I will not tell
another living soul--
No, not even Milhouse.
Huh?
Hello, Milhouse?
Can you keep a secret?
No.
MichaelJackson...
is coming to my house!
MichaelJackson?!
MichaelJackson?!
MichaelJackson?!
Aunt Bella?! Wait a minute.
I got a call on the other line.
MichaelJackson?!
MichaelJackson?!
MichaelJackson?!
MichaelJackson?!
MichaelJackson?!
We've just been handed a bulletin
from our Rock 'n' Rumor department.
MichaelJackson is moonwalking
his way to Springfield.
While we check it out...
why don't you enjoy
a seldom-heard...
extra-long version
of''In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.''
MichaelJackson!
Such a thing happens
once in a blue moon.
Do I dare leave my post?
Ay, caramba!
Uh, this is
the most exciting thing...
to happen to our fair town...
since the Dalai Lama visited
in 1 952
and so, I hereby declare
that Route 401
currently known
as the Dalai Lama Expressway...
will henceforth be known as
the MichaelJackson Expressway.
I think I can see him.
Oh, here he comes. Oh!
The guy in the pink shirt
is the father of the family...
who was just released
from a mental hospital.
Thanks, everybody.
It's great to be sane.
We want Michael!
We want Michael!
We want Michael!
Here he is.
Here's the guy...
you want to see!
Aahh!
Huh? Huh?
He's 300 pounds.
He's white.
He's dressed without flair.
What made me think...
MichaelJackson would even visit
this jerkwater burg?
You owe us
MichaelJackson.
Don't ever show your face
around here again, you tool.
Bart, the entire town
is howling for your blood...
and before I join them,
I have one question.
Today is my birthday.
You promised
you'd get me something and...
and I'm afraid to ask.
Maybe you should trust
that instinct and not ask.
I thought so.
Oh, Bart, you--
Come off!.
I'm sane now.
Dear Bart...
I am using the stationery
Mom and Dad gave me...
for my birthday...
to inform you that we are now
brother and sister in name only.
Perhaps,
if a professional so advises...
I will give you a hug...
at some far distant
family reunion...
but rest assured,
it will be purely for show.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Hey, Bart.
Hey, you.
When I was a kid,
I didn't have much money.
You know what I did when my
sisters' birthdays rolled around?
Stiffed them?
No. I wrote them a song
to show that I cared.
I can't write a song.
I'm only ten.
When I was your age
I had six gold records.
Hey, Looney Tunes, this is
what MichaelJackson looks like.
You look like
a big, fat mental patient.
I often hear that.
Just leave me alone.
Either MichaelJackson
is working...
in a recording studio in L.A...
or he's here with you
willing to work on this song.
It's your choice.
So long.
Wait, wait, Michael!
Go sit at the piano,
and I'll boil some coffee.
## [ Singing To Theme From
Bridge on the River Kwai ]
Uh, no.
Bart, we've got to get...
to your real feelings
about your sister.
I don't have any.
Let's go look at her.
Maybe that will help.
Oh, she looks sad.
That's 'cause she knows
you're looking at her.
Although I know you're looking
at me, I would look exactly
the same, even if you weren't.
Bart, think.
What happens to you...
when you turn eight?
Well, your training wheels
come off your bike.
Good. That's good.
You're just
putting that in...
because it's commercial.
- Lisa.
- Lisa.
- Lisa.
- Lisa.
- Lisa.
- Lisa.
What, Bart? It's 6:00 a.m.
That's right.
Hope you like
your present.
And a-one and a-two
and a-one, two, three, four.
Yeah!
Oh, this is
the best present I ever got!
Thank you, Bart.
Thank you, Michael.
My work is done here.
What happened
to your voice?
This is my real voice.
I'm Leon Compowski.
I'm a bricklayer
from New Jersey.
All my life I was angry,
until one day...
I talked like this.
All of a sudden...
everybody was
smiling at me.
So, I kept on doing it.
To make a tired point,
which one of us is truly crazy?
Not me. I got this.
Bye-bye, Leon.
You're a credit to dementia.
Take it away, Lise.
Hoo!
Shh!
Bart!
Hey, Bart.
Lisa! It's 6:00 a.m.
Something's wrong.
Dad died.
No, no, he's fine.
What do you know?
I'm relieved.
My birthday's in two days.
I'll be eight years old.
It's a big number--
almost double digits.
Enjoy it while you can.
Everything changes
when you hit the big 1 -0.
Your legs go.
Candy doesn't taste as good.
Let me pour my little heart out.
Sorry.
This old-timer does
ramble on sometimes.
I do so much for you
and you have disappointed me...
- on all my birthdays.
- Okay.
I've made things for you--
Okay, okay, okay!
It's done.
Birthday gift
coming your way!
Oh, thank you.
Bart, watch Maggie
while I get the laundry.
Can do.
Hmm, 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...
50 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.
Thank you, Marge.
Ahh!
Pink?!
I can't wear
pink to work.
Everybody wears white.
I'm not popular enough
to be different.
You have plenty
of white shirts.
Oh, gimme, gimme, gimme.
Oh, no! Pink!
Pink! Pink!
It's all over, Marge!
It's all over!
I don't know how this happened.
Ah, my lucky red hat.
Clean as a whistle.
You did this to me!
I... apologize.
No one will notice...
if you wear
a pink shirt to work.
Wait a minute.
Go back.
Zoom in.
Why is that man in pink?!
That's Homer Simpson--
a boob from Sector 7-G.
Judging by his
outlandish attire...
he's some sort
of freethinking anarchist.
I'll call security, sir.
Excellent.
Yes, these color monitors...
have already paid
for themselves.
Pink! I don't get
his statement.
Shh, shh, shh.
Coming.
Hey, Homer...
we saved you a doughnut.
It has pink frosting.
Thanks.
It looks--
Hey, wait a minute!
Just because I'm wearing pink...
doesn't mean I'm some kind
of 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 tiresome antics
of the Simpson family.
Take him away.
His body cavity search
revealed nothing.
We must have X-rayed him
a hundred times.
Maybe he's telling the truth.
Or you're in cahoots.
I recall you had a penchant
for bell-bottomed trousers...
back in '7 9.
That was my costume
for the plant production...
of H.M.S. Pinafore.
Yes, of course.
Your spirited hornpipe
stole the show.
Doctor, what should we do...
about our
freewheeling fop?
It used to be that
establishing sanity...
took months.
That's all changed...
thanks to the Marvin Monroe...
Take-Home Personality Test.
20 simple questions
that will determine...
just how crazy
or ''meshuggener'' someone is.
''Print name.''
Oh!
Hmm.
Hmm!
Honey, do me a favor.
Fill out this form.
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?
Well, all right...
if you listen to my poem.
D-ohh! Okay.
'''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--''
No deal.
Dad, you should do this.
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!.
Anyone order a hot dog?
Look at him!
And finally,
''Baby With a Nail Gun.''
Aw.
It's time to cast your votes.
''Dog on Fire!''
''Dog on Fire!''
Do you hear voices?
I'm hearing one now,
though 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?
Even the best of us
has an occasional accident.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
So did I pass?
No.
Bart!
Careful, men.
He wets his pants.
Uhh...
the devil with his fly open.
Right.
A spill on the floor
with bugs going after it.
Good.
The boy!
This isn't fair!
How can you tell
who's sane...
and who's insane?
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
the little black guy.
Who are you?
I'm MichaelJackson
from theJacksons.
I'm Homer Simpson
from the Simpsons.
I can't believe you never heard of me.
I'm a very popular entertainer.
Of course,
I've heard of you.
You'd have to be
living under a rock--
What's your name?
MichaelJackson.
Doesn't ring a bell.
Heard of MTV or Motown?
No.
''Beat It''?
You beat it.
''Thriller''?
What was that?
- ''Thriller.''
- No.
How about this?
# BillyJean 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 ##
Wow!
How do your feet do that?
The moonwalk?
No, your feet!
Raise your heel a bit.
Put a little pressure
on the ball of your foot.
Uh-huh.
Huh?
D'oh!
You seem like a nice guy.
Why are you here?
I wore a pink shirt.
I understand.
People thought I dressed crazy.
What did you wear?
One white glove...
covered with rhinestones.
##...and Scratchy Show ##
In the split second
before he died...
I bet Scratchy appreciated
his birthday present.
Do you see how this relates
to us?
You want that once-a-year
empty gesture?
You got it.
Hey, Michael,
I don't get it.
These guys seem as normal
as you and me.
Homer, this is Floyd.
He's an idiot savant.
He can multiply
any two numbers...
in his head just like that.
Five times nine.
Forty-five.
Wow!
This guy is the chief.
He's been here since 1 968.
Never says a word.
Hey, Chief.
Hello.
It's about time
somebody reach out to me.
Gee, I got to call my family.
This is embarrassing
calling from a nuthouse.
They think I'm a god.
I could call for you.
Oh, great.
Tell them this is
one of those places...
where rich women
lose weight.
Joe's Crematorium.
You kill 'em, we grill 'em.
Hello. Who is this?
Bart Simpson.
Who are you?
I'm MichaelJackson.
The MichaelJackson?
No way.
I'm with your father
in a mental institution.
Is Elvis with you?
He could be.
It's a big hospital.
If you're really MichaelJackson...
who were your
last four Grammy dates?
Brooke Shields, Diana Ross,
Emmanuel Lewis and Bubbles.
Shiver me timbers!
You are MichaelJackson!
Can you stay on the line while I get
all my friends and relatives?
I'm afraid not.
Your father needs your help.
You don't want him
to get a lobotomy, do you?
Hmm... lobotomy.
That's all right, son.
There's probably a downside
I don't see.
Uh-huh.
New Bedlam Asylum.
Loves us.
Needs us.
Fears he may never see us again.
MichaelJackson, whoo-hoo!
I love you, man.
Hey, Mom...
Dad's in a mental institution.
Oh, my God.
Mother was right.
Don't you worry.
Your family
will be here soon.
The only way out
ain't pretty.
What's that?
Dating a nurse.
I knew you'd send your father
to the crazy house.
You said poorhouse.
I said crazy house!
Poorhouse.
Crazy house!
Poorhouse.
Crazy house!
Hello, you've reached...
the New Bedlam
Wrongly-Committed Hotline.
All our operators
are currently busy.
Please stay on the line.
What's wrong, Homer?
This place is so strange.
Mike, I'm ashamed
to admit it to another guy...
but I'm... scared.
We all get scared sometimes.
Maybe I can help you.
Hot cakes...
football...
boobies--
Bubbles,
it's going to be a long night.
Please express yourselves.
In these sessions, we want you
to feel relaxed and uninhibited.
I was working
at an insurance company.
Youngest V.P. In the history
of the firm.
The job was my life.
Then one Monday morning,
I couldn't leave the house.
Was the door locked?
I just couldn't face
what was out there.
Was it raining?
No, Homer...
Dave suffers
from agoraphobia--
a fear of open areas
and crowds.
Dave, go on.
I knew I just couldn't make
that long drive to work.
Were you out of gas?
Baby.
Your husband suffers
from a persecution complex...
extreme paranoia
and bladder hostility.
If you talk to him
without mentioning Bart...
you'd see how sane he is.
You mean there really is
a Bart? Good Lord!
Mmm, pancakes.
Oh, Mr. Simpson,
you've got a visitor.
D'oh!
Marge!
Oh, Homie!
After talking to your wife...
we believe you're no threat
to yourself or others.
That's the most flattering thing
anyone ever said to me.
Could I have it in writing?
''Not insane.''
Hmm.
I'm proud of you, Homer.
Michael, you really helped me
get through this.
If you ever find your marbles,
come visit us.
How about today?
I'm here voluntarily.
You are? Why?
In 1 97 9, I got real depressed...
when my Off the Wall album...
just got one lousy
Grammy nomination.
Joe's Taxidermy.
You snuff'em, we stuff'em.
Boy, when I get home...
I'm going to wrap my hands
around your neck...
and smother you with kisses.
Whatever they got you on,
cut the dose.
I'm bringing
MichaelJackson home...
for a few days.
Isn't that cute?
He's heard of you.
Make sure we have cold cuts,
and put some beer on ice--
I'm a vegetarian,
and I don't drink.
Are you sure
you're here voluntarily?
Yes.
Please make sure...
he doesn't tell anybody
I'm coming.
Yes, Dad, I solemnly swear...
I will not tell
another living soul--
No, not even Milhouse.
Huh?
Hello, Milhouse?
Can you keep a secret?
No.
MichaelJackson...
is coming to my house!
MichaelJackson?!
MichaelJackson?!
MichaelJackson?!
Aunt Bella?! Wait a minute.
I got a call on the other line.
MichaelJackson?!
MichaelJackson?!
MichaelJackson?!
MichaelJackson?!
MichaelJackson?!
We've just been handed a bulletin
from our Rock 'n' Rumor department.
MichaelJackson is moonwalking
his way to Springfield.
While we check it out...
why don't you enjoy
a seldom-heard...
extra-long version
of''In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.''
MichaelJackson!
Such a thing happens
once in a blue moon.
Do I dare leave my post?
Ay, caramba!
Uh, this is
the most exciting thing...
to happen to our fair town...
since the Dalai Lama visited
in 1 952
and so, I hereby declare
that Route 401
currently known
as the Dalai Lama Expressway...
will henceforth be known as
the MichaelJackson Expressway.
I think I can see him.
Oh, here he comes. Oh!
The guy in the pink shirt
is the father of the family...
who was just released
from a mental hospital.
Thanks, everybody.
It's great to be sane.
We want Michael!
We want Michael!
We want Michael!
Here he is.
Here's the guy...
you want to see!
Aahh!
Huh? Huh?
He's 300 pounds.
He's white.
He's dressed without flair.
What made me think...
MichaelJackson would even visit
this jerkwater burg?
You owe us
MichaelJackson.
Don't ever show your face
around here again, you tool.
Bart, the entire town
is howling for your blood...
and before I join them,
I have one question.
Today is my birthday.
You promised
you'd get me something and...
and I'm afraid to ask.
Maybe you should trust
that instinct and not ask.
I thought so.
Oh, Bart, you--
Come off!.
I'm sane now.
Dear Bart...
I am using the stationery
Mom and Dad gave me...
for my birthday...
to inform you that we are now
brother and sister in name only.
Perhaps,
if a professional so advises...
I will give you a hug...
at some far distant
family reunion...
but rest assured,
it will be purely for show.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Hey, Bart.
Hey, you.
When I was a kid,
I didn't have much money.
You know what I did when my
sisters' birthdays rolled around?
Stiffed them?
No. I wrote them a song
to show that I cared.
I can't write a song.
I'm only ten.
When I was your age
I had six gold records.
Hey, Looney Tunes, this is
what MichaelJackson looks like.
You look like
a big, fat mental patient.
I often hear that.
Just leave me alone.
Either MichaelJackson
is working...
in a recording studio in L.A...
or he's here with you
willing to work on this song.
It's your choice.
So long.
Wait, wait, Michael!
Go sit at the piano,
and I'll boil some coffee.
## [ Singing To Theme From
Bridge on the River Kwai ]
Uh, no.
Bart, we've got to get...
to your real feelings
about your sister.
I don't have any.
Let's go look at her.
Maybe that will help.
Oh, she looks sad.
That's 'cause she knows
you're looking at her.
Although I know you're looking
at me, I would look exactly
the same, even if you weren't.
Bart, think.
What happens to you...
when you turn eight?
Well, your training wheels
come off your bike.
Good. That's good.
You're just
putting that in...
because it's commercial.
- Lisa.
- Lisa.
- Lisa.
- Lisa.
- Lisa.
- Lisa.
What, Bart? It's 6:00 a.m.
That's right.
Hope you like
your present.
And a-one and a-two
and a-one, two, three, four.
Yeah!
Oh, this is
the best present I ever got!
Thank you, Bart.
Thank you, Michael.
My work is done here.
What happened
to your voice?
This is my real voice.
I'm Leon Compowski.
I'm a bricklayer
from New Jersey.
All my life I was angry,
until one day...
I talked like this.
All of a sudden...
everybody was
smiling at me.
So, I kept on doing it.
To make a tired point,
which one of us is truly crazy?
Not me. I got this.
Bye-bye, Leon.
You're a credit to dementia.
Take it away, Lise.
Hoo!
Shh!