The Simpsons (1989–…): Season 4, Episode 19 - The Front - full transcript
After watching a particularly tame Itchy and Scratchy show Lisa and Bart send one of their own scripts to the studio but it is rejected as they under age so they write some more and get Grandpa to say that he is the author. As a result Grandpa wins an award but at the presentation ceremony is horrified to see one of the cartoons for the first time. Homer,meanwhile,has to attend night school after it is discovered that he never actually graduated.
## The Simpsons ##
D'oh!
Mmm! Delicious!
Now, Krusty, I hear
it's your birthday...
so I got your mother's recipe
for matzohbrei.
Hey, I don't do
The Jewish stuff on the air.
But, Hershel, bubbeleh--
Ix-nay on the ew-Jay.
Roll the cartoon.
It's so sad that Krusty
is ashamed of his roots.
Marge, it happened again.
Ohh.
What are you gonna change your name to
when you grow up?
Lois Sanborn.
Steve Bennett.
- Ow.
- Hee-hee-hee.
- Ow.
- Hee-hee-hee.
- Ow.
- Hee-hee-hee.
This is a rather lifeless outing.
Don't worry.
They're building to something.
- Oww.
- Hee-hee-hee.
Kids, say no to drugs!
Ehh, I could pull
a better cartoon out of my a--
Hey! Whoa!
Wasn't that great, kids?
That's as bad as the tasteless
"Itchy and Sambo" cartoons of the late '30s.
The writers should be
ashamed of themselves.
- Cartoons have writers?
- Ehh, sort of.
Oh, yeah? Well, you and I could
write a better cartoon than that.
Write a cartoon ourselves?
Bart, are you thinking
what I'm thinking?
Probably not.
Lie in the snow
and count to 60.
Hyah!
Merry Christmas, suckers!
"Third notice"?
"Final notice"?
"Some guys are coming"?
Oh, what's this?
An invitation to
our high school reunion.
Gee, that's odd.
They didn't send one to you.
This is it, Homer.
It's time to tell her
the terrible secret from your past.
Marge, I ate those fancy soaps
you bought for the bathroom.
Oh, my God!
No, the other secret.
Marge, I never graduated
from high school.
Well, that still doesn't explain
why you ate my soap.
Wait. Maybe it does.
I never passed
Remedial Science 1 -A.
And you're a nuclear technician?
Marge, ix-nay on the
uclear-nay echnician-tay.
- What did you say?
- I don't know. I flunked Latin too.
According to this book,
the first thing we need is a setting.
Okay. Setting, setting,
setting... setting.
- How about a barbershop?
- Great!
Scratchy is getting a haircut.
Then Itchy, the barber...
chops Scratchy's head off
with a razor.
Ah, too predictable.
The way I see it,
instead of shampoo...
Itchy covers Scratchy's hair
with barbecue sauce...
opens a box of flesh-eating ants...
and the rest writes itself.
Ah, this show ain't no good.
Finished!
Now all we have to do
is put our names on it.
- Fine. Put my name first.
- No way!
All right, then to decide it
I propose a race around the world.
Meet me at Leicester Square
at noon tomorrow.
The queen herself
shall drop the checkered flag.
Look, there's only one reasonable way
to settle this-- rock, paper, scissors.
Poor, predictable Bart.
Always takes rock.
Good old rock. Nothing beats that.
- Rock.
- Paper.
D'oh!
You call this writing?
If I puked in a fountain pen and mailed it
to the monkey house, I'd get better scripts.
-But, sir, at Harvard--
-Oh, at Harvard they taught you?
Hit the streets, egghead!
You should've majored in not getting fired.
Sir, a Lisa and Bart Simpson
sent you a script.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
"Dear Mr. Meyers,
my brother and I watch your show.
You should be proud
that children everywhere--"
Blah-blah-blah,
bling-bling-bling-blah.
Hey, egghead!
Sing "Fair Harvard."
You, sir, have
the boorish manners of a Yalie!
Bart, they rejected our script.
I guess we're just not
cut out to be writers.
Maybe he just doesn't take us seriously
'cause we're kids.
Let's put a grown-up's name on it.
How about Grampa?
He's pretty out of it.
He let those guys
use his checkbook for a whole year.
When I read your magazine...
I don't see one wrinkled face...
or a single toothless grin.
For shame!
To the sickos
at Modern Bride magazine.
Hey, Grampa,
we need to know your first name.
You're making my tombstone!
No! We're just curious.
All right, let's see.
First name. First name.
Well, whenever I'm confused
I just check my underwear.
It holds the answer to
all the important questions.
Call me...
Abraham Simpson.
Grampa, how'd you take off your
underwear without taking off your pants?
I don't know!
Ehh!
Hmm.
What?
Sir, you locked my office,
and I wanted to get my Harvard mug.
Shut up!
Roxie, get me Abraham Simpson.
- Phone call, Simpson.
- Ehh?
Is this the Abraham Simpson who wrote
the Itchy and Scratchy episode?
Ishi and what? Oh, you must be
some kind of crazy person.
I'm sorry, but we have a substantial check
here for a Mr. Abraham Simpson.
That's right.
I did the Iggy.
Ah, my high school yearbook.
You handsome devil.
"I can't believe
I ate the whole thing. "
"Activities: none.
Sports: none.
Honors: none. "
So many memories.
Time to go to the reunion.
It'll be great to see the old gang again--
Potsie, Ralph Malph, the Fonz.
That was Happy Days.
No, they weren't all happy days.
Like the time Pinky Tuscadero
crashed her motorcycle.
Or the night I lost all my money
to those card sharks...
and my dad Tom Bosley
had to get it back.
Hello, Principal Dondelinger.
Oh, Marge Bouvier.
It's so good to see you.
Sorry, sir. We're not letting vagrants
sleep in the gym tonight.
But we will be putting
some scraps by the back door.
- D'oh!
- Oh, it's you, Simpson. Yecch.
Look, there's Bobby Mindich,
the class clown.
I... am not a crook!
Eh? Richard Nixon.
I know!
Oh, my God!
It's my old boyfriend, Artie Ziff.
Hello, Marge. Have you heard?
I'm stinking rich.
jealous?
I'll bet you'd trade it all
for one night with my wife.
- I would.
- Mmm!
Homer!
Hey, Man, it's Dave!
Open up, Man!
Dave's not here, Man.
Okay, now, let's move on--
The guy's so high,
he doesn't even know that's Dave!
Homer.
- Homer?
- Homer's not here, Man.
Okay, very good.
Now let's get on with our...
really big show.
- Ed Sullivan.
- Shh!
First, the award for the alumnus
who's gained the most weight--
- Homer Simpson!
- Oh, my God!
How'd you do it, Homer?
I discovered a meal
between breakfast and brunch.
And now the award
for most improved odor--
- Homer Simpson.
- Yes!
And the person who traveled
the least distance to be here--
Well, kiss my grits!
Homer Simpson!
What can I say?
It hasn't been easy
staying in my rut.
Class of'74, I was just leafing through
your permanent records...
when I discovered
something shocking.
Homer Simpson never passed
Remedial Science 1 -A...
and thus never graduated
from high school.
I'm sorry, Simpson.
I have to take back those awards.
This is Howard Co-smell.
Homer Simpson is a boob.
What do you think, J.J.?
Dy-no-mite!
Didn't graduate?
How low can you get?
Barney, where's your cummerbund?
It fell in the toilet.
I'm going to go to night school,
earn my high school diploma...
and get back
my Most Improved Odor trophy!
You're a comedy writer?
My God, you're so old.
I want my check!
You're a writer, all right.
- Here you go, Simpson.
- I want another one!
You're a funny guy. How would you like
a staff job? I'll start you at $800 a week.
My chest hurts.
All right, leeches, I want you
to see what a good writer looks like.
His name is Abraham Simpson...
and he's got something you couldn't
get at your fancy schools-- life experience.
Actually, you know, I wrote my thesis
on life experience, and--
Quiet!
Abe, tell 'em
about your amazing life.
I spent 40 years as a night watchman
at a cranberry silo.
Wow!
So, this patch steadily
releases nicotine into my body...
eliminating my need for cigarettes.
Roll the cartoon.
Bart! Our cartoon's on TV!
All right! Turn up the volume!
Erosion is a slow but steady process.
Ah, this show ain't no good.
Hee-yah!
Bart, Lisa, I have something to tell you,
and I'm not proud of it.
Dad, whatever you say...
you know you'll always have
my love and respect.
I never graduated
from high school.
Hello, son.
I was on my way home from work
and thought I'd drop by.
Oh. You have a job?
They pay me $800 a week
to tell a cat and mouse what to do!
I see.
Dad, can we talk to Grampa alone
for a minute?
All right. But if he starts to wig out,
try to lure him into the cellar.
Then we put your name on the script
and sent it in.
Didn't you wonder why you were
getting checks for doing absolutely nothing?
Didn't you wonder why you were
getting checks for doing absolutely nothing?
Grampa, we could write the scripts for you
and split the money three ways.
I don't know.
I'd better sleep on it.
Grampa?
Grampa!
Oh, why did you wake me?
I was having
the nicest dream.
I dreamt I was
the queen of the Old West.
I kept a six-shooter
in my garter, I did.
- Do we have a deal?
- Sure, sure.
Boys, stop!
You can both marry me!
Whoo-hoo!
Yippee!
Hey, how would you kids
like a tour of the studio?
- Yea!
- Yea!
- Abe, you comin'?
- Any stairs?
-Just one.
- Nuts to you!
Wow, it must be expensive
to produce all these cartoons.
Well, we cut corners.
Sometimes to save money...
our animators will reuse the same backgrounds
over and over and over again.
Welcome to Remedial Science 1 -A.
My, uh, wife
recently passed away.
I thought teaching
might ease my loneliness.
- Will this be on the test?
- No!
Oh!
Hey, Mel, bring me
another nicotine patch.
Uh, I think there's
some space on my butt.
And now, here's another fine
Itchy and Scratchy cartoon...
by Abraham Simpson!
Hmph!
Hmph!
The bright blue flame indicates
this was a particularly sweet doughnut.
This is not happening.
This is not happening!
Dear Mr. President...
there are too many
states nowadays.
Please eliminate three.
I am not a crackpot.
- Good news, Abe.
- Who are you?
No, no.
You've been nominated for an award.
You're so good,
I fired the other writers.
From now on, the fate of the entire company
rests on that delightful coconut of yours.
Oh, no! We're all doomed!
I'm a complete fraud!
Huh? Sorry? I didn't catch any of that.
And now I gotta go.
All right,
here are your exams. Fifty questions.
- True or false.
- True.
- Homer, I was just describing the test.
- True.
- Homer, just take the test, and you'll do fine.
- False.
All right, brain.
You don't like me, and I don't like you...
but let's just do this and
I can get back to killing you with beer.
It's a deal!
Thank you for this award.
It is a tribute
to this great country...
that a man who once took a shot
at Teddy Roosevelt could win back your trust.
Yo, Grampa, time for the awards.
Did you call the girl
from the escort service?
They said their insurance
won't cover you.
Oh. That's an onion
in the ointment.
Now, to present the award for
outstanding writing in a cartoon series...
Krusty the Clown
and Brooke Shields.
"Well, here we are.
The star of The Blue Lagoon
and me, the blue-haired goon!"
What the--
That's terrible!
Cartoons have the power
to make us laugh and to make us cry.
Wouldn't you agree, Krusty?
First of all,
my hair is green, not blue.
I got nothin' to work with here.
- Nothin'!
- Uh--
Well, at least I can
take off this girdle.
Ohh, yeah!
Uh, the nominees
for best writing in a cartoon series are...
Strong-dar, Master of Akom,
the wedding episode.
Strong-dar, Master of Akom,
the wedding episode.
Action Figure Man,
the "How to Buy Action Figure Man" episode.
Please, Mommy. I want it.
Hmm.
Ren and Stimpy,
season premiere.
And finally, Itchy and Scratchy,
the "Little Barbershop of Horrors" episode.
Cross my fingers for me.
That's gonna hurt come winter.
And the winner is...
Itchy and Scratchy,
Abraham Simpson-- rise.
All right, Grampa! Whoo!
That was the first time
I ever saw Itchy and Scratchy...
and I didn't like it one bit!
It was disgusting and violent!
I think all you people are despicable!
For shame!
He's right.
We've been wasting our lives.
Here, kids.
I guess you deserve this.
Let's go.
I guess nobody
likes the truth, huh, Grampa?
- Nope.
- I'll never watch an awards show again.
Unless that delightful
Billy Crystal's involved.
Marge! I passed!
That's wonderful, Homie!
At our next high school reunion,
I'll have nothing to be ashamed of.
Hello, Dondelinger.
Simpson.
Is that a plunger stuck on your head?
D'oh!
Not me!
Knock that off, you two!
It's time for church!
We're not going
to church today.
What?
You give me one good reason!
It's Saturday!
Okilly-dokilly-do!
Shh!
D'oh!
Mmm! Delicious!
Now, Krusty, I hear
it's your birthday...
so I got your mother's recipe
for matzohbrei.
Hey, I don't do
The Jewish stuff on the air.
But, Hershel, bubbeleh--
Ix-nay on the ew-Jay.
Roll the cartoon.
It's so sad that Krusty
is ashamed of his roots.
Marge, it happened again.
Ohh.
What are you gonna change your name to
when you grow up?
Lois Sanborn.
Steve Bennett.
- Ow.
- Hee-hee-hee.
- Ow.
- Hee-hee-hee.
- Ow.
- Hee-hee-hee.
This is a rather lifeless outing.
Don't worry.
They're building to something.
- Oww.
- Hee-hee-hee.
Kids, say no to drugs!
Ehh, I could pull
a better cartoon out of my a--
Hey! Whoa!
Wasn't that great, kids?
That's as bad as the tasteless
"Itchy and Sambo" cartoons of the late '30s.
The writers should be
ashamed of themselves.
- Cartoons have writers?
- Ehh, sort of.
Oh, yeah? Well, you and I could
write a better cartoon than that.
Write a cartoon ourselves?
Bart, are you thinking
what I'm thinking?
Probably not.
Lie in the snow
and count to 60.
Hyah!
Merry Christmas, suckers!
"Third notice"?
"Final notice"?
"Some guys are coming"?
Oh, what's this?
An invitation to
our high school reunion.
Gee, that's odd.
They didn't send one to you.
This is it, Homer.
It's time to tell her
the terrible secret from your past.
Marge, I ate those fancy soaps
you bought for the bathroom.
Oh, my God!
No, the other secret.
Marge, I never graduated
from high school.
Well, that still doesn't explain
why you ate my soap.
Wait. Maybe it does.
I never passed
Remedial Science 1 -A.
And you're a nuclear technician?
Marge, ix-nay on the
uclear-nay echnician-tay.
- What did you say?
- I don't know. I flunked Latin too.
According to this book,
the first thing we need is a setting.
Okay. Setting, setting,
setting... setting.
- How about a barbershop?
- Great!
Scratchy is getting a haircut.
Then Itchy, the barber...
chops Scratchy's head off
with a razor.
Ah, too predictable.
The way I see it,
instead of shampoo...
Itchy covers Scratchy's hair
with barbecue sauce...
opens a box of flesh-eating ants...
and the rest writes itself.
Ah, this show ain't no good.
Finished!
Now all we have to do
is put our names on it.
- Fine. Put my name first.
- No way!
All right, then to decide it
I propose a race around the world.
Meet me at Leicester Square
at noon tomorrow.
The queen herself
shall drop the checkered flag.
Look, there's only one reasonable way
to settle this-- rock, paper, scissors.
Poor, predictable Bart.
Always takes rock.
Good old rock. Nothing beats that.
- Rock.
- Paper.
D'oh!
You call this writing?
If I puked in a fountain pen and mailed it
to the monkey house, I'd get better scripts.
-But, sir, at Harvard--
-Oh, at Harvard they taught you?
Hit the streets, egghead!
You should've majored in not getting fired.
Sir, a Lisa and Bart Simpson
sent you a script.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
"Dear Mr. Meyers,
my brother and I watch your show.
You should be proud
that children everywhere--"
Blah-blah-blah,
bling-bling-bling-blah.
Hey, egghead!
Sing "Fair Harvard."
You, sir, have
the boorish manners of a Yalie!
Bart, they rejected our script.
I guess we're just not
cut out to be writers.
Maybe he just doesn't take us seriously
'cause we're kids.
Let's put a grown-up's name on it.
How about Grampa?
He's pretty out of it.
He let those guys
use his checkbook for a whole year.
When I read your magazine...
I don't see one wrinkled face...
or a single toothless grin.
For shame!
To the sickos
at Modern Bride magazine.
Hey, Grampa,
we need to know your first name.
You're making my tombstone!
No! We're just curious.
All right, let's see.
First name. First name.
Well, whenever I'm confused
I just check my underwear.
It holds the answer to
all the important questions.
Call me...
Abraham Simpson.
Grampa, how'd you take off your
underwear without taking off your pants?
I don't know!
Ehh!
Hmm.
What?
Sir, you locked my office,
and I wanted to get my Harvard mug.
Shut up!
Roxie, get me Abraham Simpson.
- Phone call, Simpson.
- Ehh?
Is this the Abraham Simpson who wrote
the Itchy and Scratchy episode?
Ishi and what? Oh, you must be
some kind of crazy person.
I'm sorry, but we have a substantial check
here for a Mr. Abraham Simpson.
That's right.
I did the Iggy.
Ah, my high school yearbook.
You handsome devil.
"I can't believe
I ate the whole thing. "
"Activities: none.
Sports: none.
Honors: none. "
So many memories.
Time to go to the reunion.
It'll be great to see the old gang again--
Potsie, Ralph Malph, the Fonz.
That was Happy Days.
No, they weren't all happy days.
Like the time Pinky Tuscadero
crashed her motorcycle.
Or the night I lost all my money
to those card sharks...
and my dad Tom Bosley
had to get it back.
Hello, Principal Dondelinger.
Oh, Marge Bouvier.
It's so good to see you.
Sorry, sir. We're not letting vagrants
sleep in the gym tonight.
But we will be putting
some scraps by the back door.
- D'oh!
- Oh, it's you, Simpson. Yecch.
Look, there's Bobby Mindich,
the class clown.
I... am not a crook!
Eh? Richard Nixon.
I know!
Oh, my God!
It's my old boyfriend, Artie Ziff.
Hello, Marge. Have you heard?
I'm stinking rich.
jealous?
I'll bet you'd trade it all
for one night with my wife.
- I would.
- Mmm!
Homer!
Hey, Man, it's Dave!
Open up, Man!
Dave's not here, Man.
Okay, now, let's move on--
The guy's so high,
he doesn't even know that's Dave!
Homer.
- Homer?
- Homer's not here, Man.
Okay, very good.
Now let's get on with our...
really big show.
- Ed Sullivan.
- Shh!
First, the award for the alumnus
who's gained the most weight--
- Homer Simpson!
- Oh, my God!
How'd you do it, Homer?
I discovered a meal
between breakfast and brunch.
And now the award
for most improved odor--
- Homer Simpson.
- Yes!
And the person who traveled
the least distance to be here--
Well, kiss my grits!
Homer Simpson!
What can I say?
It hasn't been easy
staying in my rut.
Class of'74, I was just leafing through
your permanent records...
when I discovered
something shocking.
Homer Simpson never passed
Remedial Science 1 -A...
and thus never graduated
from high school.
I'm sorry, Simpson.
I have to take back those awards.
This is Howard Co-smell.
Homer Simpson is a boob.
What do you think, J.J.?
Dy-no-mite!
Didn't graduate?
How low can you get?
Barney, where's your cummerbund?
It fell in the toilet.
I'm going to go to night school,
earn my high school diploma...
and get back
my Most Improved Odor trophy!
You're a comedy writer?
My God, you're so old.
I want my check!
You're a writer, all right.
- Here you go, Simpson.
- I want another one!
You're a funny guy. How would you like
a staff job? I'll start you at $800 a week.
My chest hurts.
All right, leeches, I want you
to see what a good writer looks like.
His name is Abraham Simpson...
and he's got something you couldn't
get at your fancy schools-- life experience.
Actually, you know, I wrote my thesis
on life experience, and--
Quiet!
Abe, tell 'em
about your amazing life.
I spent 40 years as a night watchman
at a cranberry silo.
Wow!
So, this patch steadily
releases nicotine into my body...
eliminating my need for cigarettes.
Roll the cartoon.
Bart! Our cartoon's on TV!
All right! Turn up the volume!
Erosion is a slow but steady process.
Ah, this show ain't no good.
Hee-yah!
Bart, Lisa, I have something to tell you,
and I'm not proud of it.
Dad, whatever you say...
you know you'll always have
my love and respect.
I never graduated
from high school.
Hello, son.
I was on my way home from work
and thought I'd drop by.
Oh. You have a job?
They pay me $800 a week
to tell a cat and mouse what to do!
I see.
Dad, can we talk to Grampa alone
for a minute?
All right. But if he starts to wig out,
try to lure him into the cellar.
Then we put your name on the script
and sent it in.
Didn't you wonder why you were
getting checks for doing absolutely nothing?
Didn't you wonder why you were
getting checks for doing absolutely nothing?
Grampa, we could write the scripts for you
and split the money three ways.
I don't know.
I'd better sleep on it.
Grampa?
Grampa!
Oh, why did you wake me?
I was having
the nicest dream.
I dreamt I was
the queen of the Old West.
I kept a six-shooter
in my garter, I did.
- Do we have a deal?
- Sure, sure.
Boys, stop!
You can both marry me!
Whoo-hoo!
Yippee!
Hey, how would you kids
like a tour of the studio?
- Yea!
- Yea!
- Abe, you comin'?
- Any stairs?
-Just one.
- Nuts to you!
Wow, it must be expensive
to produce all these cartoons.
Well, we cut corners.
Sometimes to save money...
our animators will reuse the same backgrounds
over and over and over again.
Welcome to Remedial Science 1 -A.
My, uh, wife
recently passed away.
I thought teaching
might ease my loneliness.
- Will this be on the test?
- No!
Oh!
Hey, Mel, bring me
another nicotine patch.
Uh, I think there's
some space on my butt.
And now, here's another fine
Itchy and Scratchy cartoon...
by Abraham Simpson!
Hmph!
Hmph!
The bright blue flame indicates
this was a particularly sweet doughnut.
This is not happening.
This is not happening!
Dear Mr. President...
there are too many
states nowadays.
Please eliminate three.
I am not a crackpot.
- Good news, Abe.
- Who are you?
No, no.
You've been nominated for an award.
You're so good,
I fired the other writers.
From now on, the fate of the entire company
rests on that delightful coconut of yours.
Oh, no! We're all doomed!
I'm a complete fraud!
Huh? Sorry? I didn't catch any of that.
And now I gotta go.
All right,
here are your exams. Fifty questions.
- True or false.
- True.
- Homer, I was just describing the test.
- True.
- Homer, just take the test, and you'll do fine.
- False.
All right, brain.
You don't like me, and I don't like you...
but let's just do this and
I can get back to killing you with beer.
It's a deal!
Thank you for this award.
It is a tribute
to this great country...
that a man who once took a shot
at Teddy Roosevelt could win back your trust.
Yo, Grampa, time for the awards.
Did you call the girl
from the escort service?
They said their insurance
won't cover you.
Oh. That's an onion
in the ointment.
Now, to present the award for
outstanding writing in a cartoon series...
Krusty the Clown
and Brooke Shields.
"Well, here we are.
The star of The Blue Lagoon
and me, the blue-haired goon!"
What the--
That's terrible!
Cartoons have the power
to make us laugh and to make us cry.
Wouldn't you agree, Krusty?
First of all,
my hair is green, not blue.
I got nothin' to work with here.
- Nothin'!
- Uh--
Well, at least I can
take off this girdle.
Ohh, yeah!
Uh, the nominees
for best writing in a cartoon series are...
Strong-dar, Master of Akom,
the wedding episode.
Strong-dar, Master of Akom,
the wedding episode.
Action Figure Man,
the "How to Buy Action Figure Man" episode.
Please, Mommy. I want it.
Hmm.
Ren and Stimpy,
season premiere.
And finally, Itchy and Scratchy,
the "Little Barbershop of Horrors" episode.
Cross my fingers for me.
That's gonna hurt come winter.
And the winner is...
Itchy and Scratchy,
Abraham Simpson-- rise.
All right, Grampa! Whoo!
That was the first time
I ever saw Itchy and Scratchy...
and I didn't like it one bit!
It was disgusting and violent!
I think all you people are despicable!
For shame!
He's right.
We've been wasting our lives.
Here, kids.
I guess you deserve this.
Let's go.
I guess nobody
likes the truth, huh, Grampa?
- Nope.
- I'll never watch an awards show again.
Unless that delightful
Billy Crystal's involved.
Marge! I passed!
That's wonderful, Homie!
At our next high school reunion,
I'll have nothing to be ashamed of.
Hello, Dondelinger.
Simpson.
Is that a plunger stuck on your head?
D'oh!
Not me!
Knock that off, you two!
It's time for church!
We're not going
to church today.
What?
You give me one good reason!
It's Saturday!
Okilly-dokilly-do!
Shh!