The Simpsons s23e03 Episode Script

(owl hooting) (laughs) Massive haul this year.
To candy! (burps) Fee-fi-fo-fum, give me all your candy and gum! Who are you and why do you want our candy? Your mother is the switch witch-- a sort of tooth fairy dealie.
I take your sugary sweets and I give you healthy items.
Plain brown toothbrushes, unflavored dental floss and fun-sized mouthwashes-- TSA approved.
This is exactly why kids need a union.
(Bart and Lisa grumbling) (humming) Now remember, Homie, that candy goes to Our fighting men and women overseas.
It's our way of letting them know we're having fun back here.
No sneaking off and eating that candy yourself.
Marge, you know I'd never do that.
I'm too scared of the evil switch witch.
The switch witch is me.
You know, on some level, I've always known.
(car door closes, tires screech) ("Flight" from Psycho soundtrack playing) (tires screech) (tires screech) I've got candy, skip to my Lou My insulin will spike, that's what it's gonna do I'm gonna buy me some diabetic shoes Skip to my Lou my (screams) (grunting) What the?! (grunting) D'oh! Hello, 911? I need a helicopter rescue and some cold milk.
DISPATCHER: Copy that, sir.
The only sane thing to do is chew off my arm.
Ow! Ow! I'm not gonna swallow, 'cause I want to save room for candy.
(chewing noisily) Oops.
(chewing noisily) D'oh! (chewing noisily) Mm! I'm really getting the hang of this.
(chewing noisily) (sighs) All worth it for candy.
(gasps) No! (scream echoes in distance) (Bart and Lisa laugh) ("Flight" from Psycho soundtrack playing) ( music ) Dad? Dad? (gasps) He opened his eyes! Mom! HOMER: Okay, I'm on the floor.
I can't move.
So far, a normal Sunday morning.
Homie, you're paralyzed.
But we love you and will never give up hope.
Can his funeral be on a school day? (groans) HOMER: This is so horrible.
I can't speak! (sobs) How did this happen? Last thing I remember, I was decorating the house for Halloween.
Ah, Halloween.
The one time of year when the squalor of our home works to our advantage.
(chuckles) (humming) Where's that spider? Ah.
(laughs) Squeeze, squeeze! (laughs) Squeeze, squeeze! A real spider would get so mad if I did this.
I wonder if this thing has batteries.
(screams) It's alive?! (hisses) Ow! (grunting) Hmm.
Well, at least I still look good.
Okay, handsome, that's enough primping.
Just because you've had a little setback doesn't mean you can't look your best.
Oh, Marge.
This is the purest love there is: patient, supportive Ooh, cleavage.
(drooling sigh) Dad, I'm going to entertain you with the help of The Brothers Karamazov.
"Alexey Fyodorovitch Karamazov was the third son "of Fyodor Pavlovitch Karamazov, "a landowner well known in our district in his own day, and still remembered among us" Oh, my God.
She's still on the first sentence! Must make her stop.
How to express my (farts) Dad! Ew.
Anyway, continuing.
"For the present, I will only say that this 'landowner'-- for so we" (farts) Ew! Dad! (gasps) Wait a minute.
Can you pass gas at will? Fart once for no, twice for yes.
(farts twice) Oh, my God! Do you realize what this means? (confused fart) Well, it means that you can communicate.
(farts) Exactly.
(chuckles) I'll recite the alphabet, and you tell me when to stop.
A, B, C, D (farts) Okay, first letter: D.
Next letter.
A, B, C, D, E (farts) "D, E.
" Amazing! Oh, but before we continue.
(breathes deeply) Okay.
A (farts) "D, E, A.
" LISA: "Dearest Marge, though my body "cannot move, my heart still beats "and my brain still brains.
(farts) "I miss holding you in my arms "more than my butt can say.
(farts) "Perhaps someday there will be a cure.
"Although if it requires (farts) "months of difficult physical therapy, I'll pass.
"You are the shining light "that gets me through my darkest hours.
"For further communication, I will require more beans.
I love you.
" Oh, Homie.
(quiet fart) Shh-shh-shh.
Don't say a word.
HOMER: I guess my life isn't so bad.
With the help of my loving family, I even published my first book.
And I've finally reached a state of serenity and (screams) Another spider! (frightened whimpering) What's this bite gonna do? (gasps) My wrists are tingling.
I feel new powers surging within me! (alarm ringing) (all grunt) He's got the proportionate strength of a paralyzed spider! Forget paying for my kid's operation-- I'm out of here! (farts) They say no two ass-webs are the same.
Beautiful in its way.
Want to go home and celebrate? (farts) Whoo! I wish I could move like him.
FLANDERS: Springfield, my hometown.
Pretty little place.
Although, even the Garden of Eden could use a nice cleansing rain now and then.
(laughter) My money's on the kid.
(machine churning) (tires screech) Hey, whiskers.
Want to party? Spend less time on your back and more time on your knees.
Hmm? Have I lost my back-alley beauty? Well, those who can't do, teach.
FLANDERS: No more distractions.
I have work to do.
(Dexter theme music playing) (truck beeping) (groans) All these years, I thought murder was a sin.
Then I got new instructions from the good Lord Himself in his favorite language-- English.
VOICE OF GOD: Slay Montgomery Burns and pee in his ashes! Are you sure, Lord? If you're having trouble with the second part, drink a lot of water.
Now I've got to go.
A hip-hop star is thanking me at the VMAs.
(gasps) FLANDERS: And so white-bread Ned became the avenging sword of the Lord.
Peter, Andrew, James the Greater, James the Lesser, John, Philip, Thaddeus.
Heavenly Father, I VOICE OF GOD: Quiet, you! Your next divine whack job is a twofer.
I command you to kill Patty and Selma Bouvier.
Patty and Selma? Sure they smoke, and they don't shave much of anything, but do they deserve to die? Do not question me, the star of the Bible.
Now, on a non-murder- related note, I want you to find out what's making that funny noise in Homer Simpson's car.
It's, uh, it's, you know, it's like a chigga-chigga-chigga-chigga.
But you only hear it when you're driving over 30.
And you never hear it when you take it to the shop.
Then it sounds perfect.
Yes, Lord! Homer, have you noticed how many of your enemies have died lately? Mr.
Burns, Sideshow Bob You forgot Patty and Selma.
Oh, wait.
That hasn't happened yet.
Patty and Selma? Who's next, Ned Flanders? Now, how would that work? Huh? (tires screech) (descending whistle) (laughs) Okay, stupid Flanders, first I want you to kill that guy at the ice cream parlor who gave Homer Simpson a cone that had a little air in it.
FLANDERS (sighs): Really? Come on! God does crazy things! Check your Old Testament.
Hey, Dad.
Hey Bart Uh, I mean, Jesus.
Hey son, you want Flanders to kill anybody? He's totally in my power.
Well, there's a tall boy in front of me in class so I can't see the board.
And I sayeth unto you, slay every tall boy in town! Yeah! Yeah! Homer Simpson! (shrieks) You made a killer out of me! Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it? I'm going to kill you! (shrieks) - Because of you, I'm going to Hell! - Language.
Hell! Damn! Backside! Nothing matters anymore! I'm goin' down and my hand-basket seats two! (scoffs) Wake up, Flanders! There is no Hell, and there is no God.
If there were, would He let me do this? (gasping and wailing) GOD: Why you little (choking) (gasps) What happened?! Uh Flanders killed Homer.
But, but But you're God.
Couldn't you make everything the way it was? Well, I could.
But the big man downstairs wouldn't like it.
(murmurs) Get me a coffee! Yes, sir.
Could this get any worse? Honey, come back to bed.
Oh, for cryin' out loud! (indistinct voices) People, you are on the most inhospitable planet in the galaxy.
Extreme temperatures vicious indigenous life forms Are there any questions? Yes? Are we in Kansas anymore? No.
Well, are we in Nebraska? No! We are not in any state! Oh, oh, is it Michigan? Nobody talk anymore! You will now direct your attention to our C.
E.
O.
, Mr.
Krusty the clown.
We are here on this fakakta planet for one reason: Hilarium.
Spray this in an audience and they'll laugh at anything.
And I need some now.
Gotta play a Nazi party rally.
Oh, yeah, they're back.
Our spies will go planet-side, locate said Hilarium and contact us so that we may begin extraction.
This is a delicate mission that requires utter loyalty.
I can think of no better candidate than the resentful guy in the wheelchair who has just arrived.
Yes, I think this is gonna work out just fine.
All strapped in? Yep.
Now prepare to take an incredible journey across the room! (whooshing) Yo.
Whoa! Check out this bitchin' bod! Oh, man, if I could just have five minutes alone with my old bullies Hey, avaturd.
Are you guys gonna beat me up? Naw, we can't.
These avatars cost $80 billion each.
But your human body costs nothing.
(grunting and groaning) (skunk chittering) (chuckling) (pained groaning) (moaning) Come on, let's bond, you stupid jerk.
That's a Japanese outlet, Bart.
You need an adapter.
(groaning, zapping) Oh, maybe I'll just take a taxi.
Where you go? Where you go? No meter, is cheaper, yeah? No, thanks.
Suit yourself, you one-eyed bastard.
(grunts) Aw, the only thing that looks good on this stupid planet are the bananas.
Hmm?! Ay, caramba! (battle cry) Thanks, dude.
I am a female! You don't have to yell! I am not yelling! This is my seductive voice! I am called Kamala.
Oh! Even when we're monsters, he gets the girl.
(grunts) Fool! Every part of this world is alive! Apologize to sister rock! Sorry, sister rock.
Now you've murdered our brothers, the flowers! Stupid! Stupid! Now you're having sex with Uncle Tree! (groans) Thank the Almighty Fungus you are wiser and cuter than your friend.
Hey, what gives, man? And now let us touch testicles and mate for life.
Don't you mean tentacles? I know what I said! Ay, caramba! (zapping) Today you are a man.
Mazel Tov! So was it okay? It was serviceable! Ah, man, back on Earth we don't have so many moons.
What do you mean, "back on Earth"? Uh it's a place on the other side of this planet that's very rainy so you can only see one moon.
You know, like Portland.
I never hear of this Port-land.
But on Rigel Seven, lack of eye contact and too many details indicate the telling of truth.
I love you, sugar-slime.
(smooching) Man, you are full of surprises.
(squawking) I can't believe I'm getting combat pay for this.
Well done, young man! Our daughter is with child.
Here.
Feel the wonder of one million fetuses! (grunts) You said you were using birth control! That only keeps me from giving birth while we are having sex.
(moans) How do those mountains float? They don't.
They are falling.
Now that Kamala has a slug in the oven, we must make sure she gets her daily dose of Hilarium.
Without it, her crankiness will become unbearable.
Unfortunately our environment is too hostile to grow pickles.
And the only flavor ice cream we have is butter brickle.
To repeat: no pickles, butter brickle.
It is the Rigelian way.
So, where can I load up on this Hilarium? Listen closely.
The Hilarium is found in the sacred secretions of the queen! (dialing phone) We have located the Hilarium.
Lock in on my signal.
Traitor! How dare you betray the planet I got laid on?! They're all in one place.
Let's fry these calamari and dip 'em in a sauce made of their own blood! And wine from their own grapes.
That's not so bad.
It's a little bad.
So Kamala, where do we keep all our tanks and planes and stuff? We have no tanks.
Our planet will protect us.
Oh, man, you sound like my art teacher.
Look a little like her, too.
(snarling) (bellowing) (shouting) (growling) (squawking) (yelling) (hooting) (battle cry) I guess this is a good time to tell you I've been a double agent all this time.
But now I am totally on your side.
And this is a good time to tell you I have space warts.
And I got them from Milhouse.
(gasps) Time for a good old-fashioned servo-suit/bulldozer-saurus fight! (grunting) (growling) Dammit! Yo, Colonel! Uh, you've got some schmutz on your cheek.
Where? Here? Skinner! Had they asked for the Hilarium, we would simply have given it to them.
In Rigelian there is no word for "yours" or "mine.
" That's the reason we didn't enjoy the movie Yours, Mine and Ours.
(somber music plays) Halloween is over, which means, America, it's time to start your Christmas shopping.
Infuse our stagnant economy with dollars you don't really have.
And whatever you do, avoid the urge to make homemade gifts.
Knitting one sweater for someone costs 27 Americans their jobs.
And don't forget, Christmas is a wonderful time to take up alcoholism.
Come on, you see your family all year round.
The holidays are for your bartender.
(laughs) ("Carol of the Bells" plays) (music stops) When are we doing the Black Swan? (moans) (scream) (spooky organ music plays)