(grunts)
(gentle orchestral music playing)
S-So lonely.
(raspy) No sex without a ring.
Damn it!
(creaking)
(ghostly moaning)
(crackling)
What about us, man?
Get your own couch.
(organ music continues)
Poor Chip. Such a big part of everyone's life.
People called him the "sixth Simpson."
(speaking Spanish)
Chip was the life of Sector 6-F at the nuclear plant,
Chip regretted never ascending
Mount Springfield from the south face.
He regretted that the high school long jump record he set
was wind-aided.
He often spoke of that asterisk.
Eh, everyone has regrets.
Not me.
You? Your marriage is a dead fish
floating in a tank of stale beer.
Your baby's addicted to pacifiers.
Let us kneel.
-(pained groans) -Ow! My knees!
He's been screwed up since the moment Homer's DNA
staggered into your womb.
I have no regrets about that.
It was a perfect pregnancy.
Didn't smoke, didn't drink, lost three pounds.
♪ Get up! Everybody's gonna move their feet ♪
♪ Get down! Everybody's gonna leave their seats ♪
♪ You got to lose your mind in Detroit Rock City ♪
Huh?
(whistling a tune)
KENT BROCKMAN: Regrets, eh? This local newsman's had a few.
Covering a town of backwater rubes
who, for some reason, hate my guts.
Sir, could you give us eight seconds of your homespun wisdom?
It's a little-known fact
that you can get head lice from peaches.
Uh, this is my daughter, Peaches.
Mr. "I Get to See the Weathergirl From the Side"!
I made the worst financial decision of all time.
Oh, I can't think about it.
Hmm.
Huh?
(shudders) Oh... that's the coolest bowling ball
I've ever seen.
Hello, Bear Stearns?
I'd like to sell all my Apple stock
so I can buy a fancy bowling ball.
Now let us text on our ubiquitous
Apple tablets and phones.
(keys clicking)
Oh, you cost me a piece of all that!
Oh, don't cry.
The girl that got away.
She broke my first heart.
(Irish accent) I'm Father O'Greedy. Dimes for the needy.
(Milhouse chuckles)
Milhouse, are you the bottom half of that mischief?
MILHOUSE: Uh... uh... uh...
Um, it says I should give you lumbar support.
Better go to the lumber yard.
"Lum- bar." It means "lower back."
How many times will you make that mistake?
(groans) Just put on the Kiss record.
Back when I met Lilah.
Lilah ran a little crepe stand in the seventh arrondissement.
(French accent) Oh, Monty,
Seeing you there, in the sweet light of Paris between the wars,
there's a question I must pose.
I have something for you.
Oh! Not that.
(chuckles)
Wrong box. Lilah, will you take that big step
-from cousin to wife? -(gasps)
Oh, Monty, you must promise me one thing.
Anything she wanted I was willing to do.
(crying) I shall find another husband
as good as you are evil.
No one's that good.
(sobbing)
All I have left is my drawing.
Hm.
I'll just check with the old gang.
Hemingway!
Picasso.
Matador Juan Belmonte.
And Stalin.
That man could really put pressure on you.
Someone's been dumping tires in the forest.
Willikers! In my three years of soft news,
I've never seen anything like this.
Those are tires from my ill-fated Krusty Town Car.
It would explode if people gripped the wheel too tightly.
Local news is a joke.
I'm going to cable.
Cable news!
Bah! People only want news at 6:00 p.m.
from white guys on weekdays
and black guys on weekends.
Kent, you coming?
He ain't comin'.
This little piggy's afraid to leave his cushy
anchorman slop trough.
Could you, uh, phrase that a little more nicely?
Sorry. He "isn't" coming.
Don't worry, piggy, you made the right choice.
Eh, it'll burn out in an hour or so.
Look, Burns, I've got the dope on your sweetie.
She's still alive, and she just got over
being mad at you last week.
Lilah's alive?
Yeah, well, uh, she's alive,
but... she's a nun.
But your penguin's not a Catholic, she's a Buddhist nun--
spent her life expressing her sexuality with a Zen garden.
There is the little matter of my fee.
You're becoming very tiresome.
Who moved my desk?!
Why are you doing this, Bart?
50% attention-seeking,
50% to drop things on people.
He's gonna visit my sky granny.
We've had some good times.
♪ Memories ♪
♪ Rest between the pages of my mind ♪
And you sat on the gas pedal when my foot fell asleep,
so I'm getting you shined up nice.
What the...?
Oh!
That's a ball-proof window, sir.
BART: (groans) Okay, Bart, be cool.
Calm down, you're not gonna die up here.
(indistinct chatter)
(whooping)
-(gunfire) -(Bart yells)
D'oh!
I've saved myself for you.
Well, then, uh... (nervous chuckle)
I should disrobe at once.
Housekeeping? Send up a Chinese dressing screen
and one of Firestone's finest vulcanized prophylactics.
Smithers? Which do I take first,
the rhino horn or the tiger tongue?
I have my doubts about both, sir.
Bah! I'll just do it the old-fashioned way.
With my pump.
(engine sputtering)
The movie Up has come horribly to life over Springfield.
A local boy clings to life in a story
that proves this reporter's relevance.
BART: Ay, caramba!
(gasps) It's Bart!
Oh, I see you're ice-cold with anticipation.
Dead?
Oh, Lilah.
Even at the end, I waited too long.
What if I give her the breath of life?
(soft exhale)
Here you are, my good man.
A little broth will cure your mental illness.
I'm proud of you, Monty.
(kissing)
I ain't eatin' that.
Well, I've placed marksmen on the roof
to shoot the balloons one by one,
but frankly they're not very good.
-(gunshot) -(grunts)
(whining) Chief, it happened again.
Marge, with all due respect, that's ridiculous.
My Sarah listened to Mozart and Churchill speeches
when she was pregnant with Ralphie,
and he can't even open a refrigerator.
Pushing, always... always pushing.
Kid's scared to flush. Thinks it's his brother.
Can we focus on my son up in the sky?
Oh, I've got a long-shot idea.
By which I mean firing a shot over a long distance.
it would lower the boy very gently to the ground.
Unfortunately, all our cannonballs were melted down
to make a statue of Joe Paterno,
which we changed to look like Eugene Levy.
♪ ♪
Today I'm glad that I sold that stock.
Uh, Apple closed up another 20 points today.
And anything else you could ever think of.
(whimpers)
CROWD: (chanting) Bart! Bart! Bart! Bart! Bart! Bart!
(laughing) Hey.
-CROWD: Bart! Bart! -Hmm. (yells)
My boy's okay!
CROWD: (chanting) Bart! Bart! Bart!
I won the science fair!
I get to go to Chicago!
CROWD: Bart! Bart! Bart!
Ugh. Bart, Bart, Bart.