Wiggum: This is Papa Bear. Put out an APB for a male suspect, driving a...car of some sort, heading in the direction of...you know, that place that sells chili. Suspect is hatless. Repeat, hatless.
Bart: What's wrong, Dad?
Homer: You know that feeling you get when a thousand knives
of fire are stabbing you in the heart? I'm having that right
now... Ooh, bacon!
Burns: Look at that pig. Stuffing his face with donuts on my time!
That's right, keep eating...Little do you know you're drawing
ever closer to the poison donut!
There is a poison one, isn't there Smithers?
Smithers: Err...no, sir. I discussed this with our lawyers and they
consider it murder.
(Homer's astral body rises from Homer's physical
body)
Smithers: Mr. Burns, I think he's dead.
Burns: Oh dear. Send a ham to his widow.
Homer's astral body: Mmm...ham... (returns to Homer's body)
Smithers: No, wait. He's alive.
Burns: Oh good. Cancel the ham.
Homer: D'oh!
Hibbert: Homer, I'm afraid you'll have to undergo a coronary bypass
operation.
Homer: Say it in English, Doc.
Hibbert: You're going to need open heart surgery.
Homer: Spare me your medical mumbo-jumbo.
Hibbert: We're going to cut you open and tinker with your ticker.
Homer: Could you dumb it down a shade?
Clerk: Now before we give you health insurance, I have to ask you a few
questions.
Homer: Questions! Questions! My whole scheme down the -- I
mean ask away.
Clerk: Now, under "heart attacks", you crossed out three and wrote zero.
Homer: Oh, I thought that said "brain hemorrhages".
Clerk: All right. Here's your policy.
Homer: Now let me tell you something, Mr. Sucker. I just--
Clerk: Wait, you haven't signed it yet.
Homer: Oh, yeah, I-- (gasps) ...must...sign...policy!
Clerk: (pulling policy away) I'm sorry, sir, we can't insure you!
Homer: I made an H!
Clerk: That doesn't count!
Homer: Looks like an X.
Clerk: We better get you to a hospital.
Homer: Can I have a free calendar?
Clerk: OK.
Homer:Oh Doctor, I was in a wonderful place filled with fire and brimstone and there were all guys in red pajamas sticking pitchforks in my butt!
Homer: Kids, kids. I'm not going to die. That only happens to bad
people.
Bart: What about Abraham Lincoln?
Homer: He sold poison milk to school children.
Homer: And Lisa...
Bart: (whispers into Homer's ear)
Homer: I guess this is the time to tell you...
Bart: (whispers into Homer's ear)
Homer: ...that you're adopted and I don't like you.
(realizes) Bart!