(SINGING) The Simpsons
D'oh!
(SCREAMS)
(BRAKES SCREECHING)
ALL: (SCREAM)
ANNOUNCER: We now return to "Blacula Meets Black Dracula."
(DISCO MUSIC PLAYING)
I'm turning this disco into a hockey rink.
You mean a honky rink.
(SCREAMING)
You know, Black Dracula is now a Congressman from Virginia.
(HUMMING)
Bart, where did you get those?
There's an open house next door.
They're giving out cookies and business cards.
Check it out. I'm a business jerk.
(GRUNTING)
Marge, I don't want to buy this house.
I'd have to live next door to myself.
(LOUD MUSIC PLAYING)
Turn that down.
Screw you.
(GRUNTS)
Relax. We're just looky-loos.
We're only here to compare our lifestyle to our neighbors'.
Come on, Marge. It's not fair to
compare us to an American household.
(GASPS) It's so beautiful and modern.
Ooh.
A sub-zero fridge.
A slightly colder fridge?
In my lifetime? Amazing.
This is the kitchen I've always wanted.
(GASPS) Ooh, a bread-maker maker.
(WHIRRING)
And check this out. A walk-in microwave.
Hey, Marge, can you press "stop" when my popcorn's done?
Uh-oh.
(HUMMING)
Hmm.
(GASPS)
(GROANS)
Homie, when I married you, I knew we wouldn't live in luxury.
And I kept that vow.
(BOTH GASP)
But seeing that kitchen today made me wish we had something
a little better for ourselves.
I'll build you a new kitchen, sweetie.
Oh, Homie, that's so thoughtful.
But maybe we should hire a professional contractor.
A contractor? Those guys are the biggest crooks around.
They charge for materials and labor. Pick one, jerks.
(HUMMING)
(GRUNTS)
(GROANING)
Man, that hurt.
Now to do the exact same thing again.
(GROANING)
Maybe you should turn off the power.
All right.
(GRUNTING)
Don't demolish along the way.
HOMER: Fine.
Easy. Easy.
Playdude magazines?
Have you been hiding bosom rags from me?
Trying to. (CHUCKLES)
These magazines are from before we were married.
Maybe you should throw them away.
But I need them for the articles.
Mmm. The articles, eh?
So, you wouldn't mind if I cut out all the erotic nudes?
Of course not.
Why would I want to look at a nude woman I'm not even married to?
I mean, l wouldn't even know how she could improve me.
Hmm.
"I'm not wearing any clothes,
"so why don't I just splay myself on a pool table?"
(GRUNTS)
Steady. Steady.
Okay, here's your precious articles.
Thanks, Marge. I can't wait to read about...
"Sport Fishing With Sonny Jurgensen." (SOBBING)
(GRUNTS)
What man would want you now?
Whoa! Playdudes!
Let the blossoming of Milhouse begin.
I gotta be honest. I don't see what all the hubbub is about.
Hey. The lady in this picture is hot.
She can calamine my hives anytime.
That's Congresswoman Bella Abzug.
MILHOUSE: Ciao, Bella.
The grownups in this magazine are pretty cool.
BART: I could make the tree house look like this.
Then we could have orgies, whatever they are.
We'll be Playdude Playmates.
BOTH: We are Playdude Playmates.
There it is, nice and smooth.
I'd like to see your boyfriend,
the contractor, do a better job.
I think you used too much plaster.
(SNORTS) Now you tell me.
I never stopped telling you.
So, that's what that white noise was.
I'm calling a contractor.
Thanks for taking the job.
I'm sorry my husband is being so difficult.
Get lost, crook.
That's all right, Mrs. Simpson.
Many husbands feel emasculated when their wife must turn
to a professional to satisfy her remodeling needs.
Why don't you just kiss her?
I'm gay. But I have a subcontractor
that does that sort of thing for me.
I like to kiss.
(KISSING)
Now, don't you worry. Your kitchen will be done in three weeks.
When Virginia Woolf wrote, "Every woman needs a room of one's own,"
She must have been talking about the kitchen.
What's the first thing you're gonna make in your new kitchen?
How about cooking up some money
because this stupid kitchen cost $100,000. (CRYING)
I was thinking of chicken wings.
Those are good, too.
Same old stuff.
Meatloaf, casserole, tuna loaf, loaferole, cassaloaf...
Marge Simpson's Wasabi Buffalo Wings?
Ooh. An Eastern twist on a Western New York favorite.
(ALL MOANING)
These wings are going straight to my thighs and I say bon voyage.
What do you think, Thomas Pynchon?
(MUNCHING)
These wings are V-licious.
I'll put this recipe in the Gravity's Rainbow Cookbook
right next to the Frying of Latke 49.
I agree with my fellow Cornell alumnus.
Huzzah for Marge.
ALL: Huzzah.
And how about a huzzah for my husband who paid for our new kitchen?
Never
Marge, you know, I thought I was Springfield's wing-ding king.
But you make my chicken look like cock-a-diddily doo doo.
Great stuff, Ned.
You know, I was gonna enter this here Ovenfresh Bakeoff.
But up against you, I wouldn't have a Hindu's chance in heaven.
If you win, Ovenfresh Industries
will make you the new face of Auntie Ovenfresh.
Come on, Marge. It's either you or...
I guess it would be a hoot to have my face on everything.
Oh, Mrs. Simpson, you must pursue your dreams,
like my old dream of coming to America and starting a family.
Or my new dream of ditching my family
and sneaking back to India in disguise.
Apu? Never heard of him.
My name is Steve Barnes.
(JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING)
So, when do they start singing?
Well, the Playdude Advisor says
this music will get a stewardess
to give you a layover.
I hope it's in Omaha. My grammy lives there.
MARGE: Bart, can you come in here for a second?
Your mother is about to show us her new recipe.
Outta sight. Lay it on me, Mama.
In the Ovenfresh Bakeoff,
clever presentation is as important as taste.
So, I'm entering my dessert dogs.
It's deep-fried cookie dough with meringue buns,
cherry ketchup, and caramel mustard.
Mmm!
It's dessert but it's hot dogs, so it's good for you.
Marge, I don't want to freak you out, but I think I love you.
Oh, I hope the Ovenfresh Bakeoff likes them as much as you do.
Mmm.
Mom, a letter from Ovenfresh Industries.
Well, open it. Open it. Open it.
"Thank you for applying to the Ovenfresh Bakeoff.
"Every year many wonderful cooks fail to qualify.
(SIGHS)
"But screw them, you're in. Congratulations."
Oh, my God.
Someone somewhere says I'm better than someone else.
I'm proud of you, honey.
(CRYING)
Sorry, Ralphie. The bakeoff rejected your recipe.
I want to be in the bakeoff.
There, there.
I think your grilled crayon sandwich was delicious.
You only had a pretend bite.
No. I'm eating it, look.
Mmm.
Can you taste the thumbtacks?
Aw, crap.
I'm here live at the annual Ovenfresh Bakeoff
brought to you by the Ovenfresh Flour
family of products. Including...
(JOURNALIST READING)
Quetzalcoatl's choice, the favorite
from Zihuatanejo to Popocatépetl.
Ha-ha!
Bart looks different today.
Aw, Nelson, your debonair wit reminds me of a young Mort Sahl.
Guh? Listen up, ring-a-ding-dingers.
I'm throwing a little sip 'n' quip at the Playdude Tree House.
Saturday night at the top of the ladder. Be there or be square.
(INDISTINCT CHATTERING)
I want to be a triangle.
You're not invited.
It's gonna be weird cooking without your tipsy father
grabbing me from behind. But I think I'm up to it.
Welcome to the Ovenfresh Bakeoff.
I'm Billy Bouillon Cube. Follow me to your oven station.
Why thank you, Billy.
Don't look at my human eyes.
Oh, don't mind Billy.
His oven light's on but nothing's cooking. (CHUCKLES)
So, what you making, Marge?
Well, Stuart, I'm making a dessert
that looks like a hotdog but it isn't.
You're making a tasty fake?
(CHUCKLES)
That is so '90s.
Why don't we all move to Seattle and use slow modems?
(ALL LAUGH)
(SCOFFS) Yo, Marge. Your recipe, she is pathetic.
She is not.
(JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING)
Great licks, man. Great licks.
Yo, Bart. There's no room left in the grotto.
Who's that adult?
Hey, it wouldn't be a Playdude party without James Caan.
So, I'm trying to talk with Miss November
and Charlie Callas over here is blocking my action with...
(INDISTINCT)
Turns out he's choking on a peanut.
Well, punch to the gut cleared that right up.
(KIDS LAUGHING)
Hey, Bart. Me and Mrs. Krabappel,
we're gonna go play some backgammon, if you know what I mean.
I don't. But I hope you win.
Oh, he's gonna win.
Some guys like a challenge, not me.
Ladies and gentlemen. Before we begin,
let us introduce Auntie Ovenfresh 1954.
Ribbons and trophies are no comfort on your deathbed.
Auntie Ovenfresh. (CHUCKLING)
And now, chefs. Start your kitchens.
(GASPS)
Huh?
Fish scales?
Stop. You're tainting my entry.
Oh, I'm so sorry.
It was, how you say, done with malice aforethought, yes?
You did it on purpose?
No, no, no, no, no, no.
My English, she's not so good.
I was, how you say, ruining your food so I win, yes?
(SIGHS)
Why is everyone at this bakeoff such a meanie-bo-beanie?
These muffin-huffin' batter biddies
can smell weakness a mile away.
Weakness named Marge.
Why can't everyone just play fair and...
Did you just dunk your hair in my mixing bowl?
You're weak. Weak.
Listen here, Simpson.
Your son has been exposing our kids to adult themes,
unabashed dictionaries and the lesser short fiction of John Cheever.
Adult themes? What are you talking about?
My Roddy told a joke about an octopus and a set of bagpipes.
And the punch line implied that they fornicated.
Ralphie wants to go on the pill.
Stupid Bart.
(CHUCKUNG)
Bagpipes getting down with an octopus, that's classic.
Hot bananas coming through. Oops.
(GASPS)
My dessert.
(PANTING FRANTICALLY)
(SOBBING)
Come on, Mom.
You still have 20 minutes left. You can fix it.
You're right. If I can feed a family of five
on $12 a week, I can do anything.
You feed us on $12 a week?
I stretch your father's meatloaf with sawdust.
Attention, contestants. Baking time is over.
The judging will commence in one hour.
If your dish is not in the judging room
by the time this metal door hits the ground,
your entry will not be official
and will be eaten by the janitor.
(BUZZING)
Hurry, Mom.
Oh! I guess I was the last one.
AGNES: Damn it.
These other dishes look so pretty.
And those cheaters blackened my sugar wieners.
I'd like to give those Betty Crookeds a taste of their own medicine.
Yes, medicine.
(MARGE READING)
(SINISTER LAUGH)
Ugh.
Even the Pope couldn't forgive this pizza.
And he's letting a lot of things slide these days.
Don't worry. There's plenty for all of you.
Now who's laughing? Huh?
Huh? (LAUGHING)
Me. I'm laughing.
(LAUGHS)
I can't believe my mom would cheat.
Hi, sweetie. Is Morn winning?
Oh, she'll win the contest, but she'll lose her soul.
But she'll still win the contest?
And lose her soul.
But win the contest? Yes.
Whoo-hoo! If Marge becomes Auntie Ovenfresh,
we'll meet all the food personalities.
Look. It's Mister Cashew, the Koobler Dwarves,
Snip, Krinkle, and Poof.
Twinkle the Kidd, I love you.
Whoa, easy there, partner.
(GROANING)
Uh-oh.
You killed him.
He was my world.
ALL: (CHANTING) Blood for cream.
Blood for cream.
It's always difficult to pick two finalists.
But this year it was easy. All the other dishes made us vomit.
(RETCHING)
Our two remaining dishes are
Blackened Dessert Dogs by Marge Simpson
And Armadillo à la Road by Brandine and no last name given .
That's an entry? I thought it was garbage .
Just 'cause it was cooked In a garbage can don't make it garbage .
(CHUCKLING)
"Canned and frozen juices are more popular than ever these days.
"But most bachelors we know would
"prefer to squeeze their own tomatoes."
(LAUGHING)
Bachelors are always squeezing stuff.
Would you excuse us, Milton?
It's Milhouse.
Yeah, and your father's no house. Now, scram.
(GROANS)
Maybe I was a little hard on him. Oh, well.
Bart, I know a father has no right to
pry into the life of his 10-year-old son.
But what's going on up here?
I'm just spreading the Playdude philosophy.
Hi-fi's, Norman Mailer, getting some.
Uh, um...
What do you think "some" is?
Uh,
toys?
(SIGHS) I thought I'd never have to do this,
but it's time to tell you the facts of life.
Do you know what a boob is?
Oh, yeah.
Good. That'll save us some time. Okay.
Why do you think your mother and I sleep in the same bed?
Because we're poor?
Exactly.
And we're poor because we have kids.
And the biological method by which
children are created by a man and a woman is...
(BART SCREAMS)
BART: Then the man...
(KIDS SCREAM)
BART AND MILLHOUSE: Then the woman...
(KIDS SCREAM)
(KIDS SCREAMING)
(SCREAMING) Well, it's better they hear it from me now
than from their parents when they're old enough.
Congratulations, Mom.
You seem to have a prescription for success.
What a kind yet oddly ominous thing to say.
Now, I've gotta get ready for the finals.
Don't forget your secret ingredient.
Cheating.
Well, it's not my fault.
Lisa, the people in this bakeoff are stinkers
who pushed me and pushed me like the pushy-wushies they are.
Mom, if I don't have you to look up to, I don't have anyone.
Look, I'll be a winner with feet of clay like Mickey Mantle.
Everyone loves the Mick.
I don't want Mickey Mantle. I want my mom.
Hey, plenty of kids are gonna look up to me
when I'm Auntie whatever it is.
Right now, people just know me as the wife of a guy
who doesn't go to work.
Can't you understand that I need this?
(SIGHS)
I guess Dad has to be my hero now.
Not if you knew what he's been doing. (SHUDDERS)
Welcome to the final battle of the Ovenfresh Challenge.
Ooh, she's already ahead of me.
Mm, mm, mm, mm, mm.
Well, I didn't come this far not to cheat.
Huh?
(MARGE READING)
That's clever and devastating.
(GROANS)
Stop the competition.
(ALL GASP)
I don't deserve to win.
I sabotaged all the other entries.
(GASPING)
Looks like me and Marge are both going to hell.
That's where I'll make my move.
Then I won with my festive Holiday Alco-Hog.
(RETCHING)
Huh! I thought it was dead.
Mmm.
Thanks, honey, for saving me from myself.
And, Marge, you'll always be the best chef in our house.
(SIGHS) BFD.
I've had your scrambled eggs, Homer.
The secret ingredient is whiskey.
Hey, it keeps the kids quiet.
Hey, look. The new Ovenfresh Flour bag.
Ah, that could've been me.
CLETUS: Aw, I wish it had've been.
(SOBS)
Now that Brandine's famous, she done run off with James Caan.
But don't you worry. I'm gonna fix his wagon.
A tollbooth? I hate these things.
That's it. Next time I fly.