The Simpsons s09e20 Episode Script
The Trouble With Trillions
##[Chorus Singing.]
[Bell Ringing.]
[Whistle Blowing.]
[Beeping.]
[Jazzy Solo.]
[Tires Screeching.]
D'oh! [Screams.]
[All.]
Ten, nine, eight- eight- eight- eight- Ohh! Will this horrible year never end? We've never lost a year before, and I'll be damned if we're gonna lose one on my shift.
Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one! [Cheering.]
[All Singing.]
[Krusty Blathering.]
##[Continues In Distance.]
[Chuckles.]
January 1 st.
Better get goir on those taxes, Neddie.
Hmm.
Let's see.
Cash register ink.
Well, that's a business expense, isn't it? l- Oh, but, then, I do enjoy the smell of the stuff, don't I? Better not risk it.
- Daddy, what do taxes pay for? - [Chuckles.]
Why, everything! Policemen, trees, sunshine- and let's not forget the folks who just don't feel like working, God bless 'em.
Neddie, it's 8:45.
The post office is gonna be opening soon.
yappir away like it's 8:35! Ooh! Can't forget the mints! [Panting.]
Gettir your taxes out of the way? No.
Just mailir out death certificates for holiday-related fatalities.
[Chuckles.]
[Horns Honking.]
[Chattering.]
All right, people, listen up.
The harder you push, the faster we will all get out of here.
[Panting.]
Oh, Edna, you're certainly looking lovely tonight.
Is that a new green sweater? Hmm! Until you're willing to file jointly, back of the line, Seymour! Yar! Sometimes I wonder why I bother plundering at all.
Oh, no.
No, no.
I felt that.
You didn't carry the one, you foolish person.
Now you'll incur the penalties with the compound interest and the wrath and the truncheons.
[Gibberish.]
This is Kent Brockman live at the Springfield Post Office on tax day.
It's literally the 11 th hour- and tardy taxpayers are scrambling to mail their returns by midnight.
Sir, why did you wait until the last minute to pay your taxes? Taxes? Isn't this the line for Metallica? Sir, why did you wait until the last minute to pay your taxes? Because I'm an idiot! Happy? Of course, not everyone is an idiot.
Some of us took our receipts and pay stubs to our accountants months ago.
And at the risk of sounding a little smug- Ohh! Help! Does anyone have a calculator? - Myron? - [Groans.]
Will you look at those morons? - I paid my taxes over a year ago.
- Dad! What is it, sweetie? Did you see a scary picture in your picture book? That was last year's taxes.
You have to pay again this year.
No.
Because, you see, I went ahead, and year-wise, I was counting forward from the last previous- D'oh! I put the tax forms on top of your "to do" pile a month ago.
I have a "to do" pile? [Gasps.]
Marge, how many kids do we have? Oh, no time to count.
- I'll just estimate- uh, nine.
- Homer, you know we don't have- Shut up, shut up! If I don't hear you, it's not illegal.
Okay, I need some deductions.
Deductions- Oh! Business gifts! Here you go.
Keep using nuclear power.
- Homer, I painted that for you.
- Okay, Marge, if anyone asks you require 24-hour nursing care, Lisa's a clergyman - Maggie is seven people, and Bart was wounded in Vietnam.
- Cool! [Grunting.]
- [Door Slams.]
- [Vehicle Rapidly Departs.]
[Sighs.]
You really had a lot of talent, kid.
[Bell Tolling.]
[Yelps.]
If I don't see it, it's not illegal! [Bell Continues.]
Oh, no, you don't! [Grunts.]
Come on.
Get in there.
Drop! Woo-hoo! Ow! So, Lenny, let's say you pull a thorn out of the pope's butt, and he grants you one wish.
- What'll it be? - Hmm.
Only one, huh? Well, I've always wondered what it would feel like to wear somethir that's been ironed.
[Impressed Whistle.]
That'd be sweet.
What about you, Moe? Ah, gee, I was gonna say a night with Joey Heatherton.
But an ironed shirt? Damn, that's tempting! - What about you, Homer? - Well- Homer Simpson? United States government.
Hmm? Help! Somebody! Help! - [Door Slams.]
- So how about you, Barn? One wish.
This is an egregious miscarriagement of taxitude.
Oh, this is bad.
This is really bad.
You work and you slave and you steal just enough for a sweet lick of that shiny brass ring.
Don't I get a lick? Doesrt Gil get a lick? - Simpson, HomerJ.
- [Whimpering.]
Hey, put in a good word for ol' Gil, would ya? Mr.
Simpson, this government computer can process over nine tax returns per day.
Did you really think you could fool it? No, sir.
I'm really sorry, sir.
An older boy told me to do it.
You're looking at five years, minimum.
No, sir.
Please, I can't go to prison.
They pee in a cup and throw it on you! I saw it in a movie.
You won't be seeing any prison movies where you're going- prison! [Sobbing.]
No, please! I'll do anything.
Anything? Well, that's a start.
AgentJohnson, F.
B.
I.
- I'm very happy to meet you.
- From now on, you're gonna work for us.
Okay, but could you pay me under the table? [Whispering.]
I got a little tax problem.
They want you to spy on your friends? Not spy, squeal.
I've got no choice.
The government has no right to use you this way.
Quiet, honey.
You don't know how big this government is.
It goes all the way to the president! - [Grunts.]
There you go, ratboy! - Does this make me look fat? - No.
It makes you look like a tool of government oppression.
- But not fat? If my cover gets blown and I need help, what's the signal? [Groans.]
- [Crowd Cheering On TV.]
- Hey, I see you're watchir a ball game.
Looks like a good one.
Any of you involved in any illegal activity? - 'Cause I could sure go for some.
- Oh, God! How about you, Lenny? Testing, testing.
Lenny? You saying you want to commit a crime, Homer? Maybe.
But first I need to hear about some other crimes to get me fired up.
You mean like the time you was running moonshine out of your basement? Or that telemarketing scam you pulled? Uh, like those.
But involving you.
Oh.
You mean like the time Barney beat up George Bush? Barney? That was me! And I'd do it again.
Why stop there, Homer? My militia has a secret plan to beat up all sorts of government officials.
That'll teach 'em to drag their feet on high definition TV! - You're under arrest for conspiracy! - Oh! Oh! Hey, how did they finger Charlie? Somebody must've ratted him out! Oh, that's ridiculous, Moe.
End transmission.
[Ducks Quacking.]
My superiors were pleased with your work.
- You have a flair for treachery.
- Well, I'm just glad it's all over.
[Chuckles.]
Oh, you're not through, Simpson.
We have a high-risk assignment for you.
Why do you keep picking on me? Marge's name was on that tax return too.
- Let's take a walk.
- Walk? [Grunts.]
That wasrt part of the deal.
[Panting.]
We're here.
Get in.
[Camera Shutter Clicks.]
Uh, m-my shirt fell off.
Mr.
Simpson, please cover your ears while I say the secret access word.
Cheese.
[Man Narrating.]
Good morning, AgentJohnson.
The film you are about to see is top secret and contains adult situations.
In 1945, the people of Europe struggled to rebuild following the war.
- [Homer Chuckles.]
Losers.
- Shut up, Simpson.
To ease this crisis, President Truman promised relief.
American tax dollars will help our allies who fought so poorly and surrendered so readily.
[Crowd Cheering.]
[Narrator.]
To make good on this drunken boast Truman authorized the onetime printing of the largest denomination currency ever- a trillion-dollar bill.
Ooh, a trillion-dollar bill.
That's a spicy meatball! The man chosen to deliver this precious cargo to Europe was America's wealthiest, and therefore most trustwon'thy, citizen- C.
Montgomery Burns.
[Crowd Cheering.]
Unfortunately, the money never arrived.
Well, this is a kick in the knickers.
Should we complain to somebody? No.
I say we just act snooty to Americans forever! - I agree.
- [Narrator.]
This film will self-destruct if not properly stored.
We believe Burns still has that bill hidden somewhere in his house.
But all we've ascertained from satellite photos is that it's not on the roof.
We're hoping that as his trusted employee, you can help lead us to it.
But Mr.
Burns gave me my job, and he hasn't fired me even after three meltdowns and one China Syndrome.
- I can't betray him.
- I'm afraid you have no choice.
And remember, this information is highly classified.
[Apu.]
Cheese! [Narrator.]
Good morning, AgentJohnson.
The film you are about to see- Here you are, sir.
Wild raspberry compote celery root rémoulade, and pheasant under duck.
- I hope you enjoy it.
- Oh, stop fishing for compliments, Smithers.
Go home to your can of mushroom soup.
Sir, a kind word now and then- I'm choking it down.
Isn't that thanks enough? Sometimes I don't know why I bother.
I'm in.
[Panting.]
[Doorbell Rings.]
Now what, Smithers? l- You're not Smithers! Uh, I'm Homer Simpson, your trusted employee.
[Chuckles.]
Employee, eh? What a pleasant surprise! Hmm.
A pack of vicious dogs should be ripping you to pieces.
- Uh, I don't know what to tell you.
- Very well.
Come on in.
Perhaps I have something I can scald you with.
It'll, uh, be a few minutes.
So, what brings you to my home? Well, Mr.
Burns, you always come off as kind of a gruff, crotchety loner.
- But we both know that deep down inside- - [Strains.]
Ha-ha! - It's still cold.
- Oh.
Well, let me get you a towel.
[Whispering.]
Starting search for trillion-dollar bill.
Come on! Where are you? Here, trilli-trilli! Hmm.
Hmm.
Hmm.
Hmm.
Hmm.
Hmm.
Hmm! Hmm.
Hmm, hmm, hmm.
Eww! What is this? What are you doing? Umm, ehh, ooh- Oh, I get it.
I'm onto you.
You're from Collier's magazine, aren't you? Are you going to put me in "Star Snoop"? Uh, yeah.
Sure.
That thing.
Well, I won't go without a fight.
Wink, wink! [Chuckles.]
Let me show you around.
- I hope you don't mind a little walking.
- [Groans.]
Well, of course, I didn't want a racehorse in my living room.
- But you don't say no to Spring Byington, do you? - No, you don't.
[Chuckles.]
[Chuckling.]
Oh, you'll find this amusing- - the suit Charlie Chaplin was buried in.
- Eww! Here's a scoop for your readers- the Hall of Patriots.
That intrepid lad is my great-grandfather, Franklin Jefferson Burns tossing that tea without a care for what the caffeine would do to the Fenway flounder.
- Is that a fish? - It was.
- Hey, that guy looks like you.
- Oh-ho! That's me, all right- standing up against America's reckless spendthrift politicians.
It commemorates my liberation of a trillion dollars that would have been foolishly squandered.
- Let's move! - [Gasps.]
Is that the trillion-dollar bill in his hand? [Chuckles.]
That would be pretty careless of me, wouldn't it? I keep the real bill right here.
Wow! That must be won'th a fortune.
- Nobody move! - What the- Montgomery Burns, you're under arrest for grand, grand, grand, grand larceny.
Uuh! I'm not the thief.
The government is.
Every year you make hardworking joes like my reporter friend here pay income taxes.
And for what? Aid to ungrateful foreigners do-nothing nuclear missiles tomb polish for some unknown soldier.
Hey, he's right.
- You crooks in Washington- - Put a sock in it, punk! Oh, you can silence me, but you can't silence Collier's magazine.
Tell the people! Don't let the government push you around! You have a choice.
Fight back! I'm gonna write the best darn article- Oh, wait.
[Grunts.]
- [All Groan.]
- Hah! Take that, Uncle Sam! [Giggles.]
[Peacocks Squawk.]
Faster, Simpson.
Those jackbooted G-men won't be far behind.
We'll hide out at my place.
I've got beer.
No! We need help.
There's only one man who can get us out of a jam like this.
[Singing Show Tune.]
[Doorbell Rings.]
All right, all right.
Keep your top on.
Why, sir, what a pleasant- [Blathering.]
So now our own government is hunting us down - like a couple of common snow leopards.
- It's an outrage, sir.
[On Rolice Radio.]
This is AgentJohnson from the F.
B.
I.
Be on the lookout for a 1936 maroon Stutz Bearcat.
Uh, that really was more of a burgundy.
Oh, we're never gonna make it.
Let's just divide up the trillion now and go our separate ways.
Ah, I'm afraid we've got to get out of the country.
Capital idea.
Let's blow this fascist Popsicle stand.
We'll purchase a small island somewhere and start our own country free from the relentless tyranny of Uncle Sam.
But I can't leave the country.
- What about my wife and kids? - That can be shipped.
Okay, kids.
I want some answers.
Where do you think your father would go with a trillion dollars? My dad has a trillion dollars? Wow! I can buy and sell your sorry ass.
- I'll give you a billion dollars to empty the cat box for me.
- No, no, Bart! That money's going toward your college education.
Who needs college, Mom? We're trillionaires! Let's buy dune buggies! Contact.
Remove the chocks, Simpson! Simpson? [Both Gasp.]
- [Groans.]
- [Mr.
Burns.]
There's soda on the plane! Attention, fugitives.
You are leaving U.
S.
jurisdiction.
Turn back immediately or we will be unable to prosecute you.
- We better do what he says! - Wait! We're now over international waters.
Whoo-hoo! We can gamble! Yes! - Aw, nuts! - They'll be back.
They'll miss American TV.
Any of these islands would make a fine new country.
- I call president! - Vice president! - [Groans.]
Ooh, there's a big one.
And it has "freedom" written all over it.
Sir, that's Cuba.
Cuba, eh? Take her down, Smithers.
Uh, you're flying the plane, sir.
Excellent.
Sorry about the landing, boys.
This fog is so thick, I can't see my own cataracts.
Uh, purpose of visit? Oh, you're gonna love it in Cuba, Marge.
There's shredded pork everywhere! It's carne de burro.
Nice to meet you.
Ah, the new Packard we've been hearing so much about.
[Backfires.]
- [Fight Bell Rings.]
- [Spectators Cheering.]
[Both Grunting.]
[Spectators Booing.]
So you say Batista's gone.
- Did you know that? - I had no idea.
In that case, just take us to whoever's in charge.
Comrades, our nation is completely bankrupt.
We have no choice but to abandon communism.
- [All Groaning.]
- I know, I know, I know.
But we all knew from day one this mumbo jumbo wouldn't fly.
- [Man.]
Guess we're done! - I'll call Washington and tell them they won.
But, Rresidente, America tried to kill you! Ah, they're not so bad.
They even named a street after me in San Francisco.
- [Whispering, Indistinct.]
- It's full of what? [Panting.]
Rresidente, three men are here to see you.
- They claim to have a trillion-dollar bill.
- ¡Ay, caramba! Oh, so the island's not for sale, eh? Well, will you at least permit us to live in your socialist paradise? You're talking about Cuba? Exactly.
All we ask is preferential treatment because of my fabulous wealth.
- May I see? - [Chuckles.]
See with your eyes, not with your hands.
Please, we are all amigos here.
Mr.
Burns, I think we can trust the president of Cuba.
- Now give it back.
- Give what back? Ohh! It's hard to believe there's a place worse than America.
But we found it.
Yes.
I, too, feel a renewed appreciation for the good old U.
S.
of A.
Oppression and harassment are a small price to pay to live in the land of the free.
But, uh, sir, aren't you facing some serious jail time? Well, if it's a crime to love one's country, then I'm guilty.
And if it's a crime to steal a trillion dollars from our government and hand it over to Communist Cuba, then I'm guilty of that too.
And if it's a crime to bribe a jury then so help me I'll soon be guilty of that! God bless America! - [Murmuring.]
- Shh!
[Bell Ringing.]
[Whistle Blowing.]
[Beeping.]
[Jazzy Solo.]
[Tires Screeching.]
D'oh! [Screams.]
[All.]
Ten, nine, eight- eight- eight- eight- Ohh! Will this horrible year never end? We've never lost a year before, and I'll be damned if we're gonna lose one on my shift.
Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one! [Cheering.]
[All Singing.]
[Krusty Blathering.]
##[Continues In Distance.]
[Chuckles.]
January 1 st.
Better get goir on those taxes, Neddie.
Hmm.
Let's see.
Cash register ink.
Well, that's a business expense, isn't it? l- Oh, but, then, I do enjoy the smell of the stuff, don't I? Better not risk it.
- Daddy, what do taxes pay for? - [Chuckles.]
Why, everything! Policemen, trees, sunshine- and let's not forget the folks who just don't feel like working, God bless 'em.
Neddie, it's 8:45.
The post office is gonna be opening soon.
yappir away like it's 8:35! Ooh! Can't forget the mints! [Panting.]
Gettir your taxes out of the way? No.
Just mailir out death certificates for holiday-related fatalities.
[Chuckles.]
[Horns Honking.]
[Chattering.]
All right, people, listen up.
The harder you push, the faster we will all get out of here.
[Panting.]
Oh, Edna, you're certainly looking lovely tonight.
Is that a new green sweater? Hmm! Until you're willing to file jointly, back of the line, Seymour! Yar! Sometimes I wonder why I bother plundering at all.
Oh, no.
No, no.
I felt that.
You didn't carry the one, you foolish person.
Now you'll incur the penalties with the compound interest and the wrath and the truncheons.
[Gibberish.]
This is Kent Brockman live at the Springfield Post Office on tax day.
It's literally the 11 th hour- and tardy taxpayers are scrambling to mail their returns by midnight.
Sir, why did you wait until the last minute to pay your taxes? Taxes? Isn't this the line for Metallica? Sir, why did you wait until the last minute to pay your taxes? Because I'm an idiot! Happy? Of course, not everyone is an idiot.
Some of us took our receipts and pay stubs to our accountants months ago.
And at the risk of sounding a little smug- Ohh! Help! Does anyone have a calculator? - Myron? - [Groans.]
Will you look at those morons? - I paid my taxes over a year ago.
- Dad! What is it, sweetie? Did you see a scary picture in your picture book? That was last year's taxes.
You have to pay again this year.
No.
Because, you see, I went ahead, and year-wise, I was counting forward from the last previous- D'oh! I put the tax forms on top of your "to do" pile a month ago.
I have a "to do" pile? [Gasps.]
Marge, how many kids do we have? Oh, no time to count.
- I'll just estimate- uh, nine.
- Homer, you know we don't have- Shut up, shut up! If I don't hear you, it's not illegal.
Okay, I need some deductions.
Deductions- Oh! Business gifts! Here you go.
Keep using nuclear power.
- Homer, I painted that for you.
- Okay, Marge, if anyone asks you require 24-hour nursing care, Lisa's a clergyman - Maggie is seven people, and Bart was wounded in Vietnam.
- Cool! [Grunting.]
- [Door Slams.]
- [Vehicle Rapidly Departs.]
[Sighs.]
You really had a lot of talent, kid.
[Bell Tolling.]
[Yelps.]
If I don't see it, it's not illegal! [Bell Continues.]
Oh, no, you don't! [Grunts.]
Come on.
Get in there.
Drop! Woo-hoo! Ow! So, Lenny, let's say you pull a thorn out of the pope's butt, and he grants you one wish.
- What'll it be? - Hmm.
Only one, huh? Well, I've always wondered what it would feel like to wear somethir that's been ironed.
[Impressed Whistle.]
That'd be sweet.
What about you, Moe? Ah, gee, I was gonna say a night with Joey Heatherton.
But an ironed shirt? Damn, that's tempting! - What about you, Homer? - Well- Homer Simpson? United States government.
Hmm? Help! Somebody! Help! - [Door Slams.]
- So how about you, Barn? One wish.
This is an egregious miscarriagement of taxitude.
Oh, this is bad.
This is really bad.
You work and you slave and you steal just enough for a sweet lick of that shiny brass ring.
Don't I get a lick? Doesrt Gil get a lick? - Simpson, HomerJ.
- [Whimpering.]
Hey, put in a good word for ol' Gil, would ya? Mr.
Simpson, this government computer can process over nine tax returns per day.
Did you really think you could fool it? No, sir.
I'm really sorry, sir.
An older boy told me to do it.
You're looking at five years, minimum.
No, sir.
Please, I can't go to prison.
They pee in a cup and throw it on you! I saw it in a movie.
You won't be seeing any prison movies where you're going- prison! [Sobbing.]
No, please! I'll do anything.
Anything? Well, that's a start.
AgentJohnson, F.
B.
I.
- I'm very happy to meet you.
- From now on, you're gonna work for us.
Okay, but could you pay me under the table? [Whispering.]
I got a little tax problem.
They want you to spy on your friends? Not spy, squeal.
I've got no choice.
The government has no right to use you this way.
Quiet, honey.
You don't know how big this government is.
It goes all the way to the president! - [Grunts.]
There you go, ratboy! - Does this make me look fat? - No.
It makes you look like a tool of government oppression.
- But not fat? If my cover gets blown and I need help, what's the signal? [Groans.]
- [Crowd Cheering On TV.]
- Hey, I see you're watchir a ball game.
Looks like a good one.
Any of you involved in any illegal activity? - 'Cause I could sure go for some.
- Oh, God! How about you, Lenny? Testing, testing.
Lenny? You saying you want to commit a crime, Homer? Maybe.
But first I need to hear about some other crimes to get me fired up.
You mean like the time you was running moonshine out of your basement? Or that telemarketing scam you pulled? Uh, like those.
But involving you.
Oh.
You mean like the time Barney beat up George Bush? Barney? That was me! And I'd do it again.
Why stop there, Homer? My militia has a secret plan to beat up all sorts of government officials.
That'll teach 'em to drag their feet on high definition TV! - You're under arrest for conspiracy! - Oh! Oh! Hey, how did they finger Charlie? Somebody must've ratted him out! Oh, that's ridiculous, Moe.
End transmission.
[Ducks Quacking.]
My superiors were pleased with your work.
- You have a flair for treachery.
- Well, I'm just glad it's all over.
[Chuckles.]
Oh, you're not through, Simpson.
We have a high-risk assignment for you.
Why do you keep picking on me? Marge's name was on that tax return too.
- Let's take a walk.
- Walk? [Grunts.]
That wasrt part of the deal.
[Panting.]
We're here.
Get in.
[Camera Shutter Clicks.]
Uh, m-my shirt fell off.
Mr.
Simpson, please cover your ears while I say the secret access word.
Cheese.
[Man Narrating.]
Good morning, AgentJohnson.
The film you are about to see is top secret and contains adult situations.
In 1945, the people of Europe struggled to rebuild following the war.
- [Homer Chuckles.]
Losers.
- Shut up, Simpson.
To ease this crisis, President Truman promised relief.
American tax dollars will help our allies who fought so poorly and surrendered so readily.
[Crowd Cheering.]
[Narrator.]
To make good on this drunken boast Truman authorized the onetime printing of the largest denomination currency ever- a trillion-dollar bill.
Ooh, a trillion-dollar bill.
That's a spicy meatball! The man chosen to deliver this precious cargo to Europe was America's wealthiest, and therefore most trustwon'thy, citizen- C.
Montgomery Burns.
[Crowd Cheering.]
Unfortunately, the money never arrived.
Well, this is a kick in the knickers.
Should we complain to somebody? No.
I say we just act snooty to Americans forever! - I agree.
- [Narrator.]
This film will self-destruct if not properly stored.
We believe Burns still has that bill hidden somewhere in his house.
But all we've ascertained from satellite photos is that it's not on the roof.
We're hoping that as his trusted employee, you can help lead us to it.
But Mr.
Burns gave me my job, and he hasn't fired me even after three meltdowns and one China Syndrome.
- I can't betray him.
- I'm afraid you have no choice.
And remember, this information is highly classified.
[Apu.]
Cheese! [Narrator.]
Good morning, AgentJohnson.
The film you are about to see- Here you are, sir.
Wild raspberry compote celery root rémoulade, and pheasant under duck.
- I hope you enjoy it.
- Oh, stop fishing for compliments, Smithers.
Go home to your can of mushroom soup.
Sir, a kind word now and then- I'm choking it down.
Isn't that thanks enough? Sometimes I don't know why I bother.
I'm in.
[Panting.]
[Doorbell Rings.]
Now what, Smithers? l- You're not Smithers! Uh, I'm Homer Simpson, your trusted employee.
[Chuckles.]
Employee, eh? What a pleasant surprise! Hmm.
A pack of vicious dogs should be ripping you to pieces.
- Uh, I don't know what to tell you.
- Very well.
Come on in.
Perhaps I have something I can scald you with.
It'll, uh, be a few minutes.
So, what brings you to my home? Well, Mr.
Burns, you always come off as kind of a gruff, crotchety loner.
- But we both know that deep down inside- - [Strains.]
Ha-ha! - It's still cold.
- Oh.
Well, let me get you a towel.
[Whispering.]
Starting search for trillion-dollar bill.
Come on! Where are you? Here, trilli-trilli! Hmm.
Hmm.
Hmm.
Hmm.
Hmm.
Hmm.
Hmm! Hmm.
Hmm, hmm, hmm.
Eww! What is this? What are you doing? Umm, ehh, ooh- Oh, I get it.
I'm onto you.
You're from Collier's magazine, aren't you? Are you going to put me in "Star Snoop"? Uh, yeah.
Sure.
That thing.
Well, I won't go without a fight.
Wink, wink! [Chuckles.]
Let me show you around.
- I hope you don't mind a little walking.
- [Groans.]
Well, of course, I didn't want a racehorse in my living room.
- But you don't say no to Spring Byington, do you? - No, you don't.
[Chuckles.]
[Chuckling.]
Oh, you'll find this amusing- - the suit Charlie Chaplin was buried in.
- Eww! Here's a scoop for your readers- the Hall of Patriots.
That intrepid lad is my great-grandfather, Franklin Jefferson Burns tossing that tea without a care for what the caffeine would do to the Fenway flounder.
- Is that a fish? - It was.
- Hey, that guy looks like you.
- Oh-ho! That's me, all right- standing up against America's reckless spendthrift politicians.
It commemorates my liberation of a trillion dollars that would have been foolishly squandered.
- Let's move! - [Gasps.]
Is that the trillion-dollar bill in his hand? [Chuckles.]
That would be pretty careless of me, wouldn't it? I keep the real bill right here.
Wow! That must be won'th a fortune.
- Nobody move! - What the- Montgomery Burns, you're under arrest for grand, grand, grand, grand larceny.
Uuh! I'm not the thief.
The government is.
Every year you make hardworking joes like my reporter friend here pay income taxes.
And for what? Aid to ungrateful foreigners do-nothing nuclear missiles tomb polish for some unknown soldier.
Hey, he's right.
- You crooks in Washington- - Put a sock in it, punk! Oh, you can silence me, but you can't silence Collier's magazine.
Tell the people! Don't let the government push you around! You have a choice.
Fight back! I'm gonna write the best darn article- Oh, wait.
[Grunts.]
- [All Groan.]
- Hah! Take that, Uncle Sam! [Giggles.]
[Peacocks Squawk.]
Faster, Simpson.
Those jackbooted G-men won't be far behind.
We'll hide out at my place.
I've got beer.
No! We need help.
There's only one man who can get us out of a jam like this.
[Singing Show Tune.]
[Doorbell Rings.]
All right, all right.
Keep your top on.
Why, sir, what a pleasant- [Blathering.]
So now our own government is hunting us down - like a couple of common snow leopards.
- It's an outrage, sir.
[On Rolice Radio.]
This is AgentJohnson from the F.
B.
I.
Be on the lookout for a 1936 maroon Stutz Bearcat.
Uh, that really was more of a burgundy.
Oh, we're never gonna make it.
Let's just divide up the trillion now and go our separate ways.
Ah, I'm afraid we've got to get out of the country.
Capital idea.
Let's blow this fascist Popsicle stand.
We'll purchase a small island somewhere and start our own country free from the relentless tyranny of Uncle Sam.
But I can't leave the country.
- What about my wife and kids? - That can be shipped.
Okay, kids.
I want some answers.
Where do you think your father would go with a trillion dollars? My dad has a trillion dollars? Wow! I can buy and sell your sorry ass.
- I'll give you a billion dollars to empty the cat box for me.
- No, no, Bart! That money's going toward your college education.
Who needs college, Mom? We're trillionaires! Let's buy dune buggies! Contact.
Remove the chocks, Simpson! Simpson? [Both Gasp.]
- [Groans.]
- [Mr.
Burns.]
There's soda on the plane! Attention, fugitives.
You are leaving U.
S.
jurisdiction.
Turn back immediately or we will be unable to prosecute you.
- We better do what he says! - Wait! We're now over international waters.
Whoo-hoo! We can gamble! Yes! - Aw, nuts! - They'll be back.
They'll miss American TV.
Any of these islands would make a fine new country.
- I call president! - Vice president! - [Groans.]
Ooh, there's a big one.
And it has "freedom" written all over it.
Sir, that's Cuba.
Cuba, eh? Take her down, Smithers.
Uh, you're flying the plane, sir.
Excellent.
Sorry about the landing, boys.
This fog is so thick, I can't see my own cataracts.
Uh, purpose of visit? Oh, you're gonna love it in Cuba, Marge.
There's shredded pork everywhere! It's carne de burro.
Nice to meet you.
Ah, the new Packard we've been hearing so much about.
[Backfires.]
- [Fight Bell Rings.]
- [Spectators Cheering.]
[Both Grunting.]
[Spectators Booing.]
So you say Batista's gone.
- Did you know that? - I had no idea.
In that case, just take us to whoever's in charge.
Comrades, our nation is completely bankrupt.
We have no choice but to abandon communism.
- [All Groaning.]
- I know, I know, I know.
But we all knew from day one this mumbo jumbo wouldn't fly.
- [Man.]
Guess we're done! - I'll call Washington and tell them they won.
But, Rresidente, America tried to kill you! Ah, they're not so bad.
They even named a street after me in San Francisco.
- [Whispering, Indistinct.]
- It's full of what? [Panting.]
Rresidente, three men are here to see you.
- They claim to have a trillion-dollar bill.
- ¡Ay, caramba! Oh, so the island's not for sale, eh? Well, will you at least permit us to live in your socialist paradise? You're talking about Cuba? Exactly.
All we ask is preferential treatment because of my fabulous wealth.
- May I see? - [Chuckles.]
See with your eyes, not with your hands.
Please, we are all amigos here.
Mr.
Burns, I think we can trust the president of Cuba.
- Now give it back.
- Give what back? Ohh! It's hard to believe there's a place worse than America.
But we found it.
Yes.
I, too, feel a renewed appreciation for the good old U.
S.
of A.
Oppression and harassment are a small price to pay to live in the land of the free.
But, uh, sir, aren't you facing some serious jail time? Well, if it's a crime to love one's country, then I'm guilty.
And if it's a crime to steal a trillion dollars from our government and hand it over to Communist Cuba, then I'm guilty of that too.
And if it's a crime to bribe a jury then so help me I'll soon be guilty of that! God bless America! - [Murmuring.]
- Shh!