Lisa: If we don't get to the convention soon, all the good comics will
be gone!
Bart: Ah, what do you care about good comics? All you every buy is Casper
the Wimpy Ghost.
Lisa: I think it's sad that you equate friendliness with wimpiness, and
I hope it'll keep you from ever achieving true popularity.
Bart: Well, you know what I think? I think Casper is the ghost of
Richie Rich.
Lisa: Hey, they do look alike!
Bart: Wonder how Richie died.
Lisa: Perhaps he realized how hollow the pursuit of money really is and
took his own life.
Marge: Kids, could you lighten up a little?
Radioactive Man: Ah, these Laramie cigarettes give me the steady nerves that
I need to combat evil.
Fallout Boy: Gee willikers, Radioactive Man. Wished I was old enough to
smoke Laramies.
Radioactive Man: Sorry, Fallout Boy, not until you're sixteen.
Bart: Wow, Radioactive Man #1! I bet it's worth a million bucks!
Comic book guy: It is, my lad. But I'll let you have it for a hundred, because you
remind me of me.
Bart: Until this moment, I never knew why God put me on this earth, but now I know: To buy that comic book!
At Krusty Burger, when Bart asks for $100.
Bart: Please, Dad.
Homer: No.
Bart: Please, Dad.
Homer: No.
Bart: Please, Dad.
Homer: No.
Bart: Please, Dad.
Homer: No.
Bart: Please, Dad.
Homer: No.
Bart: Please, Dad.
Homer: No.
Bart: Please, Dad.
Homer: No.
Bart: Please, Dad.
Homer: No.
Bart: Please, Dad.
Homer: No.
Bart: Please, Dad.
Homer: No.
Bart: Please, Dad.
Homer: No! Now look, son, we all know that usually when you bug me like
this, I give in, so I'm not mad at you for trying. (It shows
you've been paying attention.) But we all know I'm not gonna give
you a hundred dollars. Now, are you going to stop bugging me?
Bart: No.
Homer: Are you?
Bart: No.
Homer: Are you?
Bart: No.
Homer: Are you?
Bart: No.
Homer: Are you?
Bart: No.
Homer: Are you?
Bart: No.
Homer: Are you?
Bart: No.
Homer: Are you?
Bart: No.
Homer: Are you?
Bart: No.
Homer: Are you?
Bart: No.
Homer: Are you?
Bart: OKAY!!!!
Homer: Hoo hoo! I win! In your face! Yeah, how do you like them apples?
Marge: Maybe a part-time job is the answer.
Bart: Oh, Mom, I couldn't ask you to do that. Your already taking care
of Maggie and Lisa is such a handful.
Lisa: She means you should get a job, stupid!
Bart: (voice-over, like in wonder years) Me? Get a job? Were they
serious? I didn't realize it at the time, but a little piece of my
childhood had slipped away, forever.
Homer: Bart! What are you staring at?
Bart: Uh, nothing. (it continues) He didn't say it, and neither
did I, but at that moment, my dad and I were closer than we...
Homer: Bart! Stop it!
Bart: Sorry.
Bart: (to the comic book) Last night, I dreamed I held you in my arms.
Bart: No, no, not the iodine. Burn the germs off with a torch. Amputate my arm, but not the .... AAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Homer: Hey, when I was your age, fifty cents was a lot of money.
Bart: Really?
Homer: Naah.
Bart: I am through with working. Working is for chumps.
Homer: Son, I'm proud of you. I was twice your age before I figured
that out.
Martin: (Reading the Comic Book) I would've thought that being hit by an atomic bomb would've
killed him.
Bart: Now you know better.
Martin: How about this, guys? Bart can have it Mondays and Thursdays,
Milhouse will get it Tuesdays and Fridays, and yours truly will
take it Wednesdays and Saturdays.
Bart: Perfect!
Milhouse: Wait a minute! What about Sundays?
Bart: Yeah, what about Sundays?
Martin: Well, Sunday possession will be determined by a random number
generator. I will take the digits 1 through 3, Milhouse will
have 4 through 6, and Bart will have 7 through 9.
Bart: Perfect!
Milhouse: Wait a minute! What about 0?
Bart: Yeah, what about 0?
Milhouse: Yeah.
Martin: Well, in the unlikely event of a 0, possession will be determined
by Rock Scissors Paper competition, best 3 out of 5. How's that?
Bart: Hey, Martin, tell him what we do with squealers.
Martin: I don't know. Is it worse than what you do with people who have to go
to the bathroom?
Marge: I've got some cocoa on the stove. Who wants imitation marshmallows?
Bart: We worked so hard, and now it's all gone.
We ended up with nothing because the three of us can't share.
Milhouse: What's your point?
Bart: Nothing. Just kind of ticks me off.