The Simpsons s24e16 Episode Script

D'oh! Mm? A plague is sweeping through Springfield.
A blue bonnet plague.
Springfield's ladies are wearing colorful Easter hats to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ.
I could write a sonnet About your Easter bonnet And of the girl I'm taking To the Easter parade.
Whoa.
We'd better get this concert started.
The giant chocolate bunny's melting.
Hollow? We paid for solid! Chief, the company's named Bunny Hollow.
I thought that was where they lived.
Look at those delightful children, Smithers.
All those healthy organs, ripe for the harvesting.
Not here, sir.
Not now.
Mm.
Hmm.
Uh, not sure what I'm expecting to happen here.
Here comes flute and piccolos What comes next, the horns, horns, horns The horns, horns, horns Blow, you little disappointments! Ah.
Who could've shoved eggs up our brass? His amusement is tantamount to culpability! Easy, easy.
Let's not jump to conclus Too late.
Already jumped.
Egg don't belong in a chicken's eye.
It belongs in her pee-poo-birth-hole.
Kill that boy! It's Easter; why aren't these people at work? Good Lord.
Look at all these comical booklets.
Yes, yes.
Just don't exhale your death breath directly on them.
Thank you.
You know, I used to collect these bestapled fables.
What are you reading? The adventures of The Good Shepherd and his sidekick, The Fleecy Kid.
Bah! That's his battle cry.
Baa! The sound which terrifies sheep rustlers the length and breadth of Michigan's untamed upper peninsula.
You should be out in the fresh air, kicking dogs.
I'm gonna buy this publishing company and burn it to the ground.
Why did you have to lock us in? Teach my son a lesson! How much for your entire collection? Um, the speed of light, expressed in dollars.
Just give him Faraday's Constant.
Nice going, Bart.
You've ruined Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter.
The legendary grand slam.
You guys, I swear I didn't do it.
Oh, I don't like the sound of that funeral march.
Okay, I'll pay for your damn band candy! What was it, $1,700? Forget the candy! We're here to turn this into this.
Now do me wearing a sombrero.
Now have me sleeping under a cactus.
D'oh! Hand over your son, so we can administer "Band Justice.
" I know this looks bad.
And I admit, I would totally lie in a second to Lisa or Mom or Dad, but I would never lie to Maggie.
I did not do that prank.
Wow, he passed the Maggie test.
And remember how Maggie solved Cookiegate? All too well.
To prove my brother's innocence, I demand a youth court.
That's right! Bart must not be judged by these kids, but by a jury, of kids.
Mostly these kids.
There's only so many kids.
I'm afraid once a youth court has been demanded, we are legally obligated to shut down mob rule, as decided in the case of Rubber v.
Glue and reaffirmed by I Know You Are v.
What Am I.
Son, if there's one thing I've learned as a defendant and a juror, it's stay out of the courtroom.
It's so frickin' boring.
Run, boy! I'll create a distraction.
Anyone can conduct Sousa.
Good news, bad news: we're allowed to select the judge, but it's impossible to find one who doesn't hate you.
I know someone who would make a great judge.
Would you kids believe your Grampa once argued in front of the Supreme Court? No.
Sorry.
Not a chance.
I mean, it's true.
It was back in 1998.
I say individual rights.
I say the common good.
Gentlemen, our system balances both.
Oh, yeah, and how would you know? Attorney General Janet Reno? That's right.
And that better not be your gum on the ground.
Uh, it's not, but I'll take care of it.
Stop doing that.
This is better than being a real attorney or a real general.
The attorney general and I have been playing chess through the mail ever since.
I find that a little hard to believe.
Yeah, why would you play chess through the mail when you can play chess through the Internet? Or preferably, not play chess at all? See here, sass mouth, you're not too big for me to tan your hide.
It's not a threat if I don't know what it means.
I'll fix your wagon! Thanks.
I'd like that.
I get a whiff of the immigrant from these newfangled superheroes.
Hmm.
Reclusive millionaire, stately mansion, damaged psyche.
He's just like me.
Smithers, I, too, shall become a crime-fighting bat.
Hmm.
But I won't become just any bat.
I shall be the terrifying bat who swoops from the sky and sucks the vital essence of his prey.
I shall be Fruit Bat Man! Great, great.
I-I don't suppose you'll be forgetting about this tomorrow? No sooner than I'd forget my own mother.
That's not your mother, that's your bear.
Well, then, where's my stuffed mother? All right, you soft-skulled nitwits, sit up straight, because we finally have someone in this school who deserves your respect: former Attorney General Janet Reno.
Thank you, Gary.
Grampa's story was true? First, I would like to say, rook to E-8.
Checkmate.
Dagnabbit! Youth court is now in session.
God, I love gaveling.
Mr.
Prosecutor? Over the next few days, you're going to hear how the defendant, Bartholomew Simpson, aka the Springfield Egger Objection! Prejudicial! Sustained.
She sustained me.
How Bartholomew Simpson wantonly egged this town with Milhouse aforethought.
Now, hold on.
Principal Skinner, are you wearing hard-soled shoes on this gym floor? No, ma'am.
Sneakers.
You're wearing sneakers to a trial? Oh, God, the press is gonna have a field day with this.
Yay, field day! I can go cuckoo and no one can stop me! That's exactly what George W.
Bush said when he was inaugurated.
People don't remember that.
This case is going great.
Although as usual, I look nothing like the courtroom artist's drawing.
Nice try, Pop.
Very dramatic, sir.
A little more brooding, and there's my superhero.
Now let's get you to bed and Hist.
Look there.
This looks like a job for Fruit Bat Man.
Perhaps we should, uh, just call the police.
The police? Bah! Every last man on the take.
And I should know, because I'm on the give.
I've never felt more alive! Look, I'll give you each $1,000 if you pretend to let that old man out there stop this crime.
Mm.
Mm.
Feel the crumbling fist of justice! Ouchers.
Oh, dear.
Who are you, mysterious octogenarian of the night? I am the squeak in the rafters, the flutter in the chimney, the tiny teeth marks in the peach.
I am Fruit Bat Man.
Now back to my natural realm, the inky night.
D'oh! I'll just take one of these key chain penlights.
You have to keep squeezing this thing? Who has the strength for that? So when I came in, the Monday after Easter, I noticed three dozen eggs missing.
And do you think this boy took those eggs? Him? All he takes are sodas and desserts.
Objection! Unhealthy! But could Bart have gotten those eggs? No way.
They were under lock and key.
No one could have touched those eggs except me and the seagulls that laid them.
No further questions.
Ah, to be young and on trial.
A toast to our enigmatic new protector, who certainly isn't me.
Smithers, wink my eye.
Want to hit the hot tub, Burnsie? Well, I hate to get all pruney, but heated tubbery is what we playboys do.
Great work, everyone.
That's a wrap.
It's nice to make an old man feel good about himself.
You said it.
So Bart couldn't have taken the eggs.
I was with him the whole weekend.
You'd make up any lie for that Simpson boy, wouldn't you? Yeah, but I'd pee my pants.
Nelson.
Dry as a bone.
Now, that's what I call "legal briefs.
" I thought of the joke and rushed over.
Your Honor, I think we've seen enough.
I have demolished the prosecution's claims and made the prosecutor sweat through two shirts.
I move that you dismiss this case and release this sweet, lovable boy.
Motion denied.
Miss Simpson, your grandstanding summation contained a grievous error.
By calling your brother sweet and lovable, you opened the door to testimony from anyone who doesn't think he's sweet and lovable.
The prosecution calls everyone in the world! Mr.
Szyslak, what name did the defendant ask for when he called you at your bar? He asked for, um Mike Rotch.
And then what did you say? Well, I said, um I said, "Mike Rotch.
" Um, "Mike Rotch.
" And then I I'm sorry.
Take all the time you need.
I, uh, I, uh, I yelled out, "Has anybody seen Mike Rotch?" See, they See, they thought I was asking if anybody wanted to see my-my Oh, man, this is so painful.
My crotch.
Thank you for your bravery today.
I just had to make sure that he never did this to another bartender.
Pass the gravy, Gloria All-Wrong.
The trial's not over, and gravy is dead animal juice.
Hmm? Hmm.
Just remember this: a Simpson never gives up.
You got to be kidding! A civilian.
She mustn't know I'm a hero.
Gouge her eyes out.
Mr.
Burns, I came here because my brother is about to be wrongfully convicted, and the man I'm looking for would help me find the truth.
Don't you get it? I don't care who you are or what you want.
Now get lost.
I think you just sent away the first person you could have actually helped.
What do you mean, "actually"? I've punched out four Homer Simpson shaped burglars tonight alone.
All those crooks were fakes, set up by me.
Even the Abominable Dr.
Lenny? No, he was a happy accident.
But the rest were fakes, just like you, a man who claims to be a hero but is nothing more than a fraud with a cute little bod.
They're calling for you, sir, but who's gonna answer? Ah! What the hell is that?! And so I've learned that the only true Batmen are Christian Bale and Adam West.
Why are you washing Bumblebee Man's pants? I volunteered to wash the egg stains off everyone's clothes.
It's one of those things you say and hope nobody takes you up on it.
That's odd.
What's odd? This skirt has a small splatter.
Splatter? Splatter as if the egg had been crushed against it by hand.
I don't follow.
Like someone faked being hit, so they wouldn't be a suspect.
Interesting, except you missed one thing.
What's that? It's not a skirt.
It's a kilt! Oh, the wood chipper.
Is there any sweeter music? Why'd you do it, Willy? Because the world is better off with four fewer Welshmen! Wait, what are we talking about? This kilt says you framed my brother.
Why? Because I hate Easter.
You see, ladies, I'm not just a Presbyterian, I'm a Scottish Old Believer Presbyterian! Old Believers don't recognize holidays not celebrated by the original apostles, especially one named after the pagan god, Eostre! But how did you get the key? I made sweet love to Lunchlady Dora, then copied the key as she slept.
Hmm.
Mm-hmm.
Now, as for your evidence Behold, the pointed ears of justice.
Ah! A human fruit bat! You're so light.
It's like fighting a silk scarf! Or a kimono sash! Yes, feel the weightless tickle of justice.
Which side won? Good or evil? Good.
And which side was I on? Also good.
Well, there's two surprises.
Will the defendant please rise? It's amazing how much exercise I've gotten from those words.
Pause the inquisition! Behold the real egg-flinging fiend.
Aye, 'tis true.
I pulled the prank, for some daft Scottish reason.
I'd fire that man if he weren't so damned good at what he does.
We have a school full of professionals, sir.
Really? Where is that school? Inside your head? Another mystery solved by Attorney General Janet Reno.
Case dismissed.
You saved me, Lis.
For the rest of my life, you'll always be my one phone call.
Aw, but I do hope you'll try to be good from now on.
Don't need to; I got you.
Children, let me be clear.
Despite what happened here, last minute confessions, shackled Scotsman and meddling billionaires are not how the legal system works.
Well, the last one is.
Today, you were truly a hero.
Thank you.
Excellent.
You know, if you're gonna be a hero, you might not want to tent your fingers like that.
Is this better? Maybe you should wrap your hands behind your head.
Maybe I should wrap them around your gabby little throat.
Ah! Tenting, tenting! Back to the tenting! Acquitted? Then my nightmare isn't over! Well, Fruit Bat Man, it seems you're no match for me, the Abominable Dr.
Lenny! Gentlemen, this threat is too great for just one elderly hero.
We have no choice but to activate The Octogenarian Initiative.
The Rambler And then there was the time I taught a dog to make oatmeal.
Early Bird, Hot Flash, Iron Lung.
It is time to pull up The Dependables.
I open one, no trump.
Double.
You've just made a powerful enemy.
Shh!