Skinner: Ah, is there nothing so intoxicating as the school hallway at early morn? Hmm, school normally doesn't smell so rank. (sniffs under his arm)( Ah, washbasin fresh. That funk must be coming from one of the classrooms. (sees gerbil in cage) Aw, poor fellow: crushed by his own waterbottle.
Willy: Eh, you're lucky you're getting a decent burial. Me own father got thrown in the bog.
Bart: Yuck! What reeks?
Nelson: Smells like one of Van Houten's.
Milhouse: It does not!
(oil explodes between Bart and Milhouse)
(the tiles under Ralph Wiggum's desk shake)
Ralph: Miss Hoover? The floor is shaking.
Hoover: Ralph, remember the time you thought the --
(oil explodes under Ralph)
Homer: Here's your package, Mr. Burns.
Burns: My name is the return address, you senseless
dunderpate. Smithers, who is this nincompoop?
Homer: (thinking) Oh, I've worked here for ten years and my boss doesn't even know my name! Well, that's gonna change right now! (out loud) My name is Homer J. Simp -- ow! (Burns pushes a red button; a 1000g weight falls on Homer) -- son.
Burns: Hmm, sounded large when I ordered it. I can't make hide nor hair of these metric booby traps.
Burns: (sitting on excersise bike with Smithers pedaling) A non-profit organization with oil...I won't allow it! An oil well doesn't belong in the hands of Betsy Bleedingheart and Maynard G. Muskievote!
Smithers: Sir, have you had enough... exercise for this morning?
Burns: No. Let's go another twenty miles.
(Burns gets up and plays pinball in another room)
Burns: Hello Lenny...Carl...Guillermo. Hello, um, uh, er...
(Homer waves his nametag back and forth)
Ooh, uh... (the door opens; Smithers and Burns leave)
Lenny: Don't take it so hard, Homer. He's always screwing up people's names.
Guillermo: Yeah. At the picnic, he thought my son Renaldo was my son Rolando. Can you believe that?
Skinner: Superintendent, we made the front page today!
(olds up newspaper, covering word "Awful" in headline)
Chalmers: Uh, what's that say under your hand there?
Skinner: Hmm? Oh, it's an unrelated article.
Chalmers: It's an unrelated article?
Skinner: Mm hmm.
Chalmers: Within the banner headline?
Skinner: Yes. Now, to redirect our conversation slightly, I had a few ideas on how to spend this oil money.
Chalmers: Well, we could give each student a full college scholarship.
(both burst out laughing)
Skinner: Oh, mercy. Seriously though...
Willy: I want a crystal bucket for my slopwater and a brand new filthy blanket.
(Skinner stamps "Approved" on his clipboard)
Doris: The cafeteria staff is complaining about the mice in the kitchen. I want to hire a new staff. ("Approved")
Ralph: Chocolate microscopes. ("Approved")
Otto: You know those guitars, that are like, double guitars, you know? (Approved")
Smithers: (over intercom) Principal Skinner, this is your secretary. There is one last student here to see you.
Skinner: That's odd. I don't have a secretary...or an intercom! But send him in.
Burns: Ahoy, there, Dean. I understand you're taking suggestions from students, eh? Well, me and my fourth form chums think it would be quite corking if you'd sign over your oil well to the local energy concern.
Skinner: Mr. Burns?
Burns: Buh!
Skinner: It was naive of you think I would mistake this town's most prominent 104- year-old man for one of my elementary school students.
Burns:I want that oil well. I've got a monopoly to
maintain! I own the electric company, and the water works --
plus the hotel on Baltic Avenue!
Skinner: That hotel's a dump and your monopoly's pathetic. This school's oil well is not for sale, particularly to a
blackhearted scoundrel like yourself.
Burns: I see. Then I'll just have to...attack you!
(he flails like a sissy at Skinner) I must have that oil. Smithers...Smithers, help me subdue this beast.
Smithers: Sorry sir, this was all I could find.
(fires a stapler at Skinner) Take that, and that!
(staples land uselessly on a briefcase)
Skinner: Please don't waste those.
Marge: I'm happy for the school. It sounds like this money's going to provide a lot of new opportunities.
Bart: Big deal. They didn't approve my idea; they said it was unfeasible.
Lisa: It is unfeasible to resurrect the dead, Bart. And even if the Three Stooges were alive I doubt they'd want to hang around with you.
Bart: Oh yeah. I guess they'd probably want to be with their families something, huh?
Homer: Oh, I hate my job. I mean, what's the point when your boss doesn't even remember your name?
Marge: I have an idea.
Homer: What? What's your idea?
Marge: When my father was first trying to catch my mother's eye, he sent her a box of candy with his photo in it. After that, she never forgot him.
Homer: That's all well and good, but it's not really your idea, is it now, Marge?
Smithers: Sir... What I am about to say violates every
sycophantic urge in my body, but I wish you would reconsider.
This isn't a rival company your battling with: it's a school.
People won't stand for it.
Burns: Pish posh, it will be like taking candy from a baby. Say, that sounds like a larf. Let's try it right now.
Lisa: Dad, how can you work for a man like Mr. Burns?
Homer: Well, he's not all bad. He did send me this nice thank-you card.
Lisa: "Marge, Bart, Lisa, and Maggie." Dad, this doesn't have your name on it.
Homer: Kids, would you step outside for a second?
(takes in a deep breath) F --
(a church organ plays a chord)
Ned: Dear Lord! That's the loudest profanity I've ever heard.
Barney: These fumes aren't as fun as beer. Sure, I'm all dizzy and nauseous, but where's the inflated sense of self-esteem?
Moe: Hey, if you guys are getting loaded of them fumes I'm gonna have to charge you.
Smithers: Well, Sir, you've certainly vanquished all your enemies: the Elementary School, the local tavern, the old age home...you must be very proud.
Burns: No, not while my greatest nemesis still provides our customers with free light, heat and energy. I call this enemy...the sun. Since the beginning of time man has yearned to destroy the sun. I will do the next best thing...block it out!
(He pushes a button that raises a shield over the model town)
Smithers: Good God!
Burns: Imagine it, Smithers: electrical lights and heaters running all day long!
Smithers: But Sir! Every plant and tree will die, owls will deafen us with incessant hooting...the town's sundial will be useless. I don't want any part of this project, it's unconscionably fiendish.
(When Burns is crushing things in the model)
Burns: Take that, Bowlerama! (stomp) Take that,
Convenience Mart! (stomp) Take that, Nuclear Power Plant--
(stomp) oh, fiddlesticks.
Marge: I must say, Mr. Burns is being awfully inconsiderate -- selfish, even.
Bart: Burns needs some serious boostafazoo, right Dad?...Dad?...Homer! (pulls paper away to reveal Grampa and scream)
Lisa: Sorry, Grampa. It's just that for a second it looked like Dad had melted.
Abe: Well, get used to it, 'cause I'm living here now. I ain't going back to the retirement home until they fish my bed out of that sinkhole.
Marge: Strained carrots for Maggie, strained carrots for Grampa.
Abe: I want a bib too!
(Homer crashes through gate of Nuclear Power Plant) Guard: Just a minute. (Raises broken piece of gate)
Abe: Hey, the lamp's running away!
Bart: That's my dog, man!
Abe: So long, lamp. Now stop loafing and help your Grampa unpack.
Bart: (seeing a gun) Wow!
Abe: That's my old Smith and Wesson. If you're gonna play with it, be careful, 'cause its loaded.
Abe: How can you have a house without a gun? What if a bear came through that door?
Marge: I'm going to bury it in the yard where little hands can't get to it.
Abe: Geesh! You should have fired into the air. She would have run off!
Quimby: People, take it easy. We're all upset about Mr. Burns' plan to, uh, block out our sun. It is time for decisive action. I have here a polite but firm letter to Mr. Burns' underlings, who with some cajoling, will pass it along to him or at least give him the gist of it.
Quimby: Also it has been brought to my attention that a number of you are stroking guns. Therefore I will step aside and open up the floor.
Willy: Burns cost me my groundskeeping job at the school. And I'm too superstitious to take the one at the cemetery.
Abe: Because of him, I lost my room, my things and my buddy's collection of old sunbathing magazines.
Old man: (You bastard!)
Moe: I lost my bar!
Barney: I lost his bar!
Lisa: He robbed the school of music!
Skinner: He robbed the school of financial security!
Tito: He robbed the school of Tito!
Homer: He can't remember my name!
Marge: He's causing us all to yell!
Bart: Look what he did to my best friend! (everyone looks at Milhouse eating cheezies) No, my dog! (SLH rolls in on his cart)
Burns: Oh, those wheels are squeaking a bit. Perhaps I
can sell him a little oil?
Burns: I've decided to protect myself ever since I was
attacked in my office by an unidentified assailant.
Homer: D'oh!
Ned: I'd like to hear from Sideshow Mel.
Mel: I'll see to it that Mr. Burns suffers the infernal
machinations of hell's grim tyrant.
Burns: Oh, you all talk big. But who here has the guts to stop me? Mm hm. Very well. One last question: have you ever seen the sun set...at three p.m.?
McAllister: Aye, once. When I was sailing 'round the arctic --
Burns: Shut up, you! Take one last look at the sun, Springfield!
Krusty:I've been in Reno for six weeks. Did I miss
anything?
Doris: Eternal darkness. Well, that's just great.
Apu: Listen, someone's got to get that Mr. Burns. Where is that gun-toting lowlife when you need one?
Snake: Sorry, I was in the can.
Burns: Hello, lamppost. Whatcha knowin'? I've come to watch your... power flowin'."
Carl: That's odd, Mr. Smithers left his jacket behind.
Otto: Whoa, that's odd. Principal Skinner left his mother behind.
Jimbo: Hey, man, are you OK?
Burns: I won't dignify that with a response.
Selma: Mr. Burns has been shot.
Wiggum: Just a minute! This isn't Mr. Burns at all! It's a mask! (pulls at his face a little) Wait, it is Burns. Heh, his wrinkly skin, it...looks like a mask.
Marge: I don't think we'll ever know who did this. Everyone in town's a suspect.
Hibbert: Heh heh heh. Well, I couldn't possibly solve this mystery. Can...you? (points at camera)
(camera pulls back to reveal that he's pointing at Wiggum)
Wiggum: Yeah, I'll give it a shot, I mean, you know, it's my job, right?
Kent: Dozens of people are gunned down each day in Springfield, but until now none of them was important. I'm Kent Brockman. At three p.m. Friday, local autocrat C. Montgomery Burns was shot following a tense confrontation at town hall. Burns was rushed to a nearby hospital where he was pronounced dead. He was then transferred to a better hospital where doctors ugraded his condition to "alive".
Lisa: Everyone in Springfield had a reason to shoot Mr. Burns, even us. Bart, he broke your dog's legs. Grampa, he destroyed your home. And Dad -- well, you kind of went berserk when he couldn't remember your name.
Bart: Aren't we forgetting someone...Sister Suspect?
Lisa: I was just getting to me. Because of Mr. Burns, they canceled my jazz program, and my friend Tito Puente got fired...but I could never shoot someone.
Bart: Could so.
Lisa: Could not.
Bart: Could so.
Lisa: Could not.
Bart: Could so!
Lisa: Could not!
Homer: Kids, kids, kids. As far as Daddy's concerned,
you're _both_ potential murderers.
Marge: The police already have a suspect: it's Mr. Smithers.
Abe: Yeah, Smingers did it. Case closed. Now where's my hat? I'm going to the outhouse.
Lisa: We don't have an outhouse.
Homer: My toolshed!
Moe: Hey, Homer: us hotheads here is going to go tear down Burns' sun-blocking machine. You want to come with?
Homer: Sure. I've had it up to here with these damn rickets! (waddles toward tow truck)
Smithers: The man became consumed by greed. He'd steal from anyone! And when he tried to steal our sunlight, he crossed that line between everyday villainy and cartoonish super-villainy.
Kent: Uh, Kent Brockman, Channel Six News. How does it feel to be accused of the attempted murder of your boss and mentor?
Smithers: Kent, I...I feel about as low as Madonna when she found out she missed Tailhook.
Kent: Oh. I'm going to say "Ouch" for Madonna!
Krusty: (watching the tv) Hey! That's my Madonna gag. That guy stole my gag!
Mel: And you stole it from last Friday's episode of "Pardon My Zinger".
Krusty: Stole, made up, what's the difference?
Mel: Mr. Smithers must have seen that program too! He never misses it. Hmm...at the town meeting, he mentioned that
he watched Comedy Central. I made sure to note that, as it seemed quite unusual. Ye Gods! To the police station, Krusty.
Mel: I am Melvin van Horne. And this is my associate Herschel Krustofsky.
Krusty: Hey hey.
Mel:Officers: you have arrested an innocent man.
Wiggum: Really? Aw, jeez. All right, Colossos, you're free to go. But stay away from Death Mountain.
Colossos: But all my stuff is there!
Mel: I was referring to Waylon Smithers. Mr. Burns was shot Friday at three p.m., the very time that Smithers was at home watching "Pardon My Zinger". So you see, he couldn't have done it.
Smithers: Yes, you're right! I remember now, I watched that entire show. In fact -- I left the town meeting early so I could get home in time.
(in flashback)
Smithers: Ohh, I've got to run or I'll miss the opening rank-out. Get of my way, please --
Jasper: Slow down. The sidewalk's for regular walking, not for fancy walking.
Smithers: Get out of my way, I'm in a hurry.
Jasper: You simmer down, I'll let you go.
(Smithers shoots) (back to present)
Smithers: So...instead of wounding an evil old man, I may have killed an innocent old man. That's much worse!
Krusty: About 50,000 volts worse, if you know what I mean! (makes electrocuting sound effects)
(Jasper's apartment)
Wiggum: Uh, hi. Um...can we take a look at your leg?
Jasper: (pulls off wooden leg) That's real spruce. You like it?
Smithers: Thank God! Sir, I only hope you can forgive me for shooting your wooden leg.
Jasper: You shot who in the what, now?
Wiggum: OK, Smithers, you're free to go. And you...one question. Do you know who shot Mr. Burns? 'Cause we are really up the creek on this one, heh heh.
Kent: And with the prime suspect cleared and found completely innocent, we must now ask ourselves: who could possibly be as bloodthirsty as Waylon Smithers?
Marge: I guess it's never the most likely suspect.
Lisa: Actually, Mom, in 95% of cases, it is. The rest of the time, it's usually some deranged lunatic who did it for no reason. (everyone looks at Homer)
Homer: Hey! I had a damn good reason. He could never remember my name.
Lisa: Well I don't think anyone in this family is capable of attempted murder.
Abe: Eh...you never know what you're capable of. I never thought I could shoot down a German plane, but last year I proved myself wrong.
Lisa: Nancy Drew says that all you need to solve a mystery is an inquisitive temperament and two good friends. And I've got an inquisitive temperament. Maybe I could help solve this.
Marge: Mmmmm...I think you're a little young to be investigating an attempted murder. Why don't you try to solve the mystery of who put that mud in the freezer?
Bart: Who wants chocolate ice cream?
Homer: Me, me, me!
Lisa: When Moe's closed, Barney lost his only means of support -- sucking coins out of the Love Tester machine.
Eddie: That's a real good way to get sick.
Wiggum: Hey, what about that jazz teacher that got laid off? You know, uh, Mr. Samba? Senor Mambo? What was it?
Lisa: Tito Puente?
Wiggum: Yeah.
Lisa: Well, he did vow revenge, heh heh. But I can't see
him doing something illegal. He's in show business, he's a
celebrity --
Wiggum: Let's roll, boys.
Tito: Revenge? Of course. But why wound his body with bullets when I could set his soul afire with a slanderous mambo? Listen, if you will, to my revenge -- uno, dos, tres!
(band starts playing salsa music)
Singer: Wounds won't last long, but an insulting song
Burns will always carry with him.
So I'll settle my score on the salsa floor
With this vengeful Latin rhythm.
Chorus: Burns! (trumpet riff)
Singer: Con un corazo'n de perro.
Chorus: Sen~or Burns! (trumpet riff)
Singer: El diablo con dinero.
It may not surprise you, but all of us despise you
Please die, and fry in hell
You rotten rich old wretch --
Adios viejo.
Wiggum: Yeah! OK, OK, I believe you're innocent. Gee, I
hope all our suspects are this much fun.
Willy: It's impossible for me to fire a pistol. If you'll check me medical records, you'll see I have a cripplin' arthritis in me index fingerrrs. Look at 'em! I got it from "Space Invaders" in 1977.
Wiggum: Aw, yeah. That was a pretty addictive video game.
Willy: Video game?
(Moe in the Lie Detector Test)
Eddie: Did you hold a grudge against Montgomery Burns?
Moe: No! (buzz) All right, maybe I did. But I didn't shoot him. (ding)
Eddie: Checks out. OK, sir, you're free to go.
Moe: Good, 'cause I got a hot date tonight. (buzz)
A date. (buzz)
Dinner with friends. (buzz)
Dinner alone. (buzz)
Watching TV alone. (buzz)
All right! I'm going to sit at home and ogle the ladies in the Victoria's Secret catalog. (buzz)
Sears catalog. (ding)
Now would you unhook this already, please? I don't
deserve this kind of shabby treatment! (buzz)
Marge: Grampa, I found your cigar box dug up in the back yard but the gun wasn't there. Have you seen it?
Abe: You accuse me of everything around here? "Who put slippers in the dishwasher?" "Who threw a cane at the TV?"
"Who fell into the china hutch?"
Wiggum: Homer Simpson, you're under arrest for attempted murder.
Homer: D'oh!
Wiggum: Yeah, that's what they all say. They all say "D'oh".
Nick: Hi, everybody!
Burns: Ho, mer-Simp son!
Nick: OK, that was a little strange. Um, tell me: how are you feeling today?
Burns: Homer. Simpson, Homer. D'oh...Simpson.
Nick: Hmm. That seems to be all you can say. When you were in that coma, did you feel your brain getting damaged?
(Lisa in the car with Homer, who has 2 ice cream cones)
Lisa: Are you sure you don't want me to hold one of your ice cream cones?
Homer: (driving with his knees) Pfft. Yeah, right. You chose fruit, you live with fruit.
(Homer strangling Burns)
Burns: Ho-mer Simp-son! Ho-mer Simp-son!
Homer: Stop telling them it was me! I'll kill you for saying it was me.
Burns: What is the meaning of this? Smithers, who is this
beast that's shaking me?
Homer: D'ohhh! (grabs a gun, aims it at Burns' head)
Say it, Burns: say I never shot you!
Burns: Shot? By you? I'm afraid not, my primitive friend. Your kind has neither the cranial capacity nor the opposable digits to operate a firearm. The one who shot me was Aah! Aah! Aah! M-Maggie Simpson!
Burn's story: With the sun-blocker in place and the town aghast, I was on top of the world. So I wanted to kick up my heels and indulge my sweet tooth. (sees Maggie with her lollypop) "Oh, it's you: what are you so happy about? I see." Smithers had thwarted my earlier attempt to take candy from a baby, but with him out of the picture, I was free to wallow in my own crapulence. But the old axiom was misleading: taking the candy proved exceedingly difficult. (Burns struggles with Maggie) "I said drop it!" (The gun falls out of his holster and shoots him, gun and lollypop fall under the seat)
Burns: Stricken, I lurched forth in search of aid, but finding only slack-jawed gawkers, I gave up and collapsed on the sundial.
Lisa: Then, with your last ounce of strength, you pointed to W and S... or, from your point of view, M and S.
Burns: What? No! With my last ounce of strength, I sucked out my gold fillings and swallowed them. Those paramedics have sticky fingers.