The Simpsons s14e05 Episode Script

The Simpsons Helter Shelter D'oh! Ah! Oh, this doesn't look good, sir.
This man could sue us.
Yes.
If he's smart, he'll hold out for millions.
Whoo-hoo! I got skybox tickets.
And with only 20 percent loss of my brain function.
Life is Can't beat a skybox.
All the excitement of being in the sky with the security of being in a box.
Oh, this is gonna be the coolest basketball game ever.
Actually, it says here we're gonna see hockey.
No! - Would you care for some cologne? - You have anything - with ground-up whale in it? - But of course.
Hey, don't we regular fans get anything? Hey, do we tip these guys, or what? Wow, it's so fancy.
It's like Moby's house on Cribs.
Paint your portrait, sir? Can you paint me knocking out Larry Holmes? Certainly.
Don't hit my face.
- Okay, where do you want it? - I don't know.
Work the stomach.
Mm.
That takes me back.
Check out those non-skybox losers watching hockey without sushi.
If you can call that hockey.
Hey, Homer's looking down his nose at us.
Let's take Mr.
Figgy Pudding down a peg.
Otto, what are you waiting for? Get your ass on my neck.
I'm getting close.
I smell vinaigrette.
Heads up, Dad.
Here comes the scum.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Why can't they just be happy for my success? - Hot fudge! - Arr, it burns! Oh, great.
And I just got all that gum out of my armpits.
All right.
A people tooth.
Gummy Sue, this is your lucky day.
There.
Now I is like Britney Spears.
Yeah! This is a joke.
- It's a hockey game.
- Whatever.
Hey, Kozlov! Aim for the five hole.
He's got an opening the size of Red Square.
Thank you, mouthy American child.
Please to take my hockey tree.
Hmm.
Come on, Lisa.
It's time to go.
But the game's not even over.
They've already told the skybox fans who's gonna win.
Huh? Yeah! Go, Ice-O-Topes! This sucks.
How come Lisa gets something and I don't? Because she took the trouble to wander away and talk to a stranger.
Your sister getting something nice doesn't hurt you in any way.
Hmm.
Better add some more nails.
Perfect.
Well, cock-a-diddily-doo.
What a Marge-alicious way to start my Flander-rific day.
Wha? Hey, Ma, our crap shack's going to hell.
Bart, watch your potty mouth.
Hey! Get out! I'm in here! Oh.
I think we might have termites.
These are no ordinary termites.
What you've got here are Russian No-wood-niks.
Can you save our house? Okay.
But in order to kill these bugs, I've got to live like a bug think like a bug, become a bug.
Ugh.
Why do you always hire the cheapest guy? I go by how funny the sign is.
Sweet.
A circus.
Let's sneak in.
That's using your noodle.
So when can we go back in our house? Not for a while, I'm afraid.
I had to use the good poison.
It comes with James Coburn's picture on the bottle.
This place won't be inhabitable for another six months.
- But where will we live? - Don't worry.
We'll just hang out in front of the house beside these garbage cans.
The time will just fly by.
Uh, that was boring.
Let's get a hotel.
Don't you have any rooms? We can't live in our house for six months.
Sorry, folks.
Every hotel room in town is booked.
Stupid bran producers convention.
I'm just gonna say it.
We haven't had a good idea since Raisin Bran.
- What? - Heresy.
- Let him speak! - No! He's crazy! Why don't we stay at a youth hostel? I do not want another lecture from a German backpacker about how we don't appreciate the National Park System.
I know.
We'll stay with my very best friend in the world.
Lenny.
Hey, Simpsons.
That's Lenny? Oh, I wanted the black one.
Wow, Lenny.
Your apartment is stunning.
Your apartment is stunning.
So how do you afford such a sweet pad? - What the hell was that? - Oh, I share a common wall with a jai alai court.
Ha-ha-ha.
That's the sound of the pelota hitting the fronton.
I find it soothing.
- Thanks for letting us stay with you.
- Oh, it is such an honor to host our favorite family.
And you came at an exciting time.
I'm chairing a meeting of the Galactic U.
N.
My apologies.
The paint is still wet on Ambassador Farfoon.
We are not staying at Moe's.
Maggie's already drunk on the fumes.
And she's a mean drunk.
Come on, guys.
You gotta stay.
Tonight's the big cockfight.
We can eat the loser.
Pfft.
Who wants to eat a loser? Dad, we have to find a place soon.
I really have to go to the bathroom, and I'm out of tokens.
I heard of a new reality show where they let you live in a home for free.
Oh, yeah.
The gimmick is it's a house from 1895.
You gotta do everything like they did back then.
We'd be too late to save Lincoln and too early to save Kennedy.
- You could save McKinley.
- It's not a time machine, Moe.
Marge, I'm still not sure about this.
Hey, if TV can give Mike O'Malley a home it can give us one.
Welcome to the Reality Channel.
I'm Mitch Hartwell, creator of The 1895 Challenge.
And by creator, I mean I saw it on Dutch television and tweaked the title.
This family looks pretty interesting.
But isn't the dad Bill Cosby? You see, I gotta get back on the TV because with The Osbournes and the soft-core porns and the dogs pooping and nobody scooping and the: We need a family that hasn't been on TV forever.
Let's try the Simpsons.
I like what I'm seeing in there.
Argh! I'll teach you to whistle on the Sabbath! They go to pieces over nothing.
They're perfect for reality TV.
Where's that kid with my latte? He's not coming, is he? Is he? Welcome to your home for the next six months.
Oh, man.
I can't wear this.
I look like Buster Brown.
Whoever that is.
Oh, you look adorable, Lisa.
Your school chums are going to be so jealous of your little outfit.
God, I wish I had that little outfit.
Yeah.
Those golden curls are to die for.
Wow, they had an Army helmet under every bed? Uh, Mr.
Simpson, that's a chamber pot.
You're supposed to go to the bathroom in it.
Befoul an Army helmet? You'd like that, wouldn't you, hippie? Behind this door, you'll find the one piece of 21st century technology in the whole house.
Ooh, please be a melon baller.
Please be a melon baller.
This is your video confessional.
You come in here to express your deepest feelings and darkest secrets.
Uh, ha, ha.
My hair isn't really blue.
I need that tape! Good morning, ladies.
What's so good about it? It takes six hours to make breakfast now.
You should see how much trouble Dad's having shaving with a straight razor.
Finally.
I'm no longer a slave to the Gillette corporation.
Why, it says here that President Cleveland has Okay, more coal.
Less coal.
Less, less.
More.
Less, less, less.
And none.
Perfect.
By orders of The Reality Channel I must make sure that you only buy items available in 1895.
Oreos? Sorry, these are from 1896.
Non-scarring toilet paper.
Ha.
Dream on.
Urkel-O's.
Delicious but forbidden.
I'll just take these tampons.
I don't believe they had those in 1895.
- Yes, they did.
Look closer.
- Ooh! Twenty-three skidoo.
You know, it's 6:15.
The kids are in bed and Maggie's in her cage.
Maybe I could wuther your heights? Well, okay.
Blow out that lamp and I'll take off my Victorian undergarments.
- All right, let me get that.
- Remember, if you just Just That comes off.
That's No.
Up.
- All right.
- Let's see what we've got here.
Almost done.
This has been the worst week of my life.
I miss my toys, my video games.
"Mutt and Jeff" comics are not funny.
They're gay, I get it.
You've been in there over an hour! Other people have to confess too, you know.
Oh, I can't hold it in.
I hate this house! Ugh.
Bread tastes like clothes.
I'm so cold.
All of you stink so much.
This is great television.
Yeah.
I can't wait to see which one of them dies first.
Look, we can't give up.
We're on TV.
And when you're on TV you dig in your claws and you never let go.
Just like Bill Moyers.
Telegram for Haywood U.
Cuddlemee.
Haywood U.
Cuddlemee? Big guy in the back, Haywood U.
Cuddlemee? Hey Oh.
Ooh, that little Ooh.
I'm gonna drive a golden spike where your Union meets your Central Pacific.
Stop.
Aw.
Bart, honey, would you like - some more cod liver oil? - Yes, Mom.
I thought I was regular before, but I was wrong.
With all this hard work, I'm too tired to worry about the world.
And soon, I will marry one of father's wealthy business associates.
Oh, I wish you would reconsider the proposal of Hiram Beatwife.
He's betrothed to Martha Takeapunch.
This is boring.
Yeah.
Switch it to the Elderly Animal Channel.
The show's getting boring.
We're losing viewers.
I have an idea.
It's crazy, but it just might work.
Like it did last week on another show.
We bring in the biggest, most famous star from a '70s sitcom whose phone hasn't been disconnected.
- Hello.
- Squiggy? Why is the guy from Laverne & Shirley living in our house? Because nobody's watching you clowns.
If you was to ask me, you're all too calm and happy.
The essence of drama is conflict.
That's why they gave me this Taser.
This still isn't working.
Fixing this show is gonna take some original thinking.
Everybody, pull out your TVs and start flipping around.
I think I've got an idea.
Turn to channel 24.
Hmm.
Hello, Laverne.
Hello, Laverne.
Hello, Laverne.
Marge, I'm off to the blacksmith's to get my tooth pulled.
Oh.
Lisa.
Explain.
The network made our show more exciting by dumping the house in a river.
Marge, throw me an old-timey rope in an old-timey way! This rope was woven from handlebar moustaches.
You monsters.
You turned this show into a Survivor clone.
Mr.
Simpson, your contract allows us to do anything we want to you.
I would never sign that.
Unless there was a red sticker that said sign here.
Uh-huh.
That's what we used.
Where do you get those things, anyway? Oh, no.
Everything is ruined.
Our good bellows, our stereopticon.
Squiggy.
Homer, your strop.
Your strop.
Our lives are ruined.
Oh, yeah.
This is great stuff.
Let's take lunch, people.
- Do we get lunch? - We're not allowed to interfere with the reality of the show.
Which reminds me, burn the leftovers.
Leave nothing.
I can't remember the last time I cried like this.
When you put your T-shirt on backwards? Oh, yes.
The tag chafed my throat.
Let's go eat some bugs.
Is it just me or are you guys getting sick of crazy adventures? Psst.
Psst.
Savages.
I'll handle this, Marge.
We come in peace.
- We take your land.
- We're not savages.
- I'm a paralegal from Cleveland.
- And I'm a nutritionist from Santa Fe.
We were a tribe on another reality show, but we lost the final challenge.
I just couldn't eat anymore kangaroo testicles.
So the show just abandoned us here.
The weird part is, now I can't get enough of them.
But now we're going to escape.
We're gonna overpower your crew and return to civilization.
Wow.
Marge, I think I figured out their primitive language.
That's my Homie.
Is it so gosh-darn hard to get cocktail sauce in the middle of the Amazon? Now we know what it feels like to be tormented.
And yet I learn nothing.
And now to wreck their precious helicopter! No, Homer, no! That's our only way home.
Yes, but Okay.
Whoa.
That Lenny sure had a crazy apartment.
Oh, it sure is good to be home.
No more reality shows for us.
Let's watch some quality, scripted television.
Law & Order Elevator Inspectors Unit.
Here's the thing, inspector.
The button for five doesn't light up.
I think I'm gonna be sick.
Oh, that's it.
TV was the one good thing in my life and now I can't enjoy it anymore.
Hmm.
I guess we'll have to find a new way to entertain ourselves.
What about books? Yeah.
If we read books, we could form a club.
If we formed a club, we could serve drinks.
Hey, Dad.
Why don't we watch you drink from a hose? Good idea, Lisa.
Hmm.
The water's off.
I'll use my eye to see what the trouble is.
Hmm.
Off again.
Maybe I can hear what's going on.
So this has become a game of wits, has it? Perhaps my other eye will get to the bottom of this.
Shh.