CHOIR: ♪ The Simpsons ♪
(tires screeching)
♪♪
D’oh!
(screams)
(tires screeching)
(children's music plays)
♪♪
Ah... nothing beats taking a family drive
with our new satellite radio.
Which of the 25 easy-listening stations
should we listen to?
I say "Cool Waves."
BART: "Neon Breeze!"
LISA: "Chill Thunder!" "Chill Thunder!"
(chuckling): You’re all idiots.
I’m putting it on "Chill Thunder Lite."
Oh, now that’s smooth.
-(beeping) -Out of my way,
you seat belt-wearin’ cowards!
Hey! Nobody cuts me off!
(growling)
Homer, no!
Revenge never solves anything.
Then what’s America doing in Iraq?
Well, let me tell you a story
about a time revenge brought
only unhappiness and misery.
It happened many years ago in Paris.
Texas?
No, France.
MARGE: There was a happy young family.
Papa, may we have chocolat?
Papa, may we have petit fours?
May we? May we?
Mais oui!
(all French laughing)
Oh, mon cher,
I am the luckiest wife
in the entire 16th arrondissement!
Let us kiss with the tongues.
(groaning)
(tongue trilling)
I hate that Homer jerk
with his beautiful wife and loving family,
when all I got is this doorway.
Well, enjoy your sensual tongue-play while you can
’cause I’ve got a plan to take everything you got!
(groaning)
(snoring)
(snoring continues)
Monsieur Simpson.
You’re under arrest for treason.
Treason? But I love France.
The way all our words are either a girl or a guy.
Oh, that’s the best.
Tell it to le baton!
(grunts)
(groaning)
I don’t want the kids to see me this way.
Don’t worry!
They’re still drunk from school.
(gurgling)
Uh... deux... trois.
Listen to this letter he wrote.
(clearing throat): "Dear England,
how I love your moors and heaths.
For you, I’d do whatever it takes,
especially treason."
I didn’t write that!
Even if I did love England, I’d play it cool.
Wait for it to come to me.
I sentence you to life.
You moron! I’m already alive.
In prison.
(screams)
(groans)
(imitating European siren noises)
I’m gonna stop now.
(rattling)
I shouldn’t be here.
I was framed.
You think you got problems?
The man in the iron mask over there
is the rightful King of France.
Hey, wait, did you guys hear that?
He just admitted it. Guys?
Oh, man, this place is so unfair.
Are you going to torture me?
We can’t tell you.
Not knowing is the worst torture of all.
Well, that and the rat helmet.
(groaning)
Now get some sleep.
You’ve got a 9:00 a.m. rat helmet.
Oh, 9:00 a.m.
(music swells)
I swear revenge on Meaux!
Even if it takes me the rest of my life!
Can you loosen my arms so I can shake my fists?
You’re the traitor.
Revenge!
Okay.
Thank you.
(hooting)
Oh, little mouse.
You are the only thing that keeps me sane.
(gulping, slurping)
Now I have nothing.
Perhaps I may be of help.
(gasping): Where did you come from?
I’m your cell mate.
You never noticed me because frankly,
you’re extremely self-centered.
Oh, sorry, I wasn’t listening.
I was checking out my reflection in this yellow water.
Ho-ho-ho-ho, looking good.
Young man, I have the answer to your problems.
(grunting)
(gasping)
I spent 30 years digging this tunnel,
but now I can’t use it.
I’m simply too old.
And decrepit.
(shudders): But you can escape and use this map
to retrieve my buried treasure.
With it you can have your revenge.
Ooh, the-the!
But why are you helping me?
Well, because before my wretched life
comes to a close,
I want to know that I had one friend.
Also, because while you slept,
I violated you repeatedly.
So this map leads to a treasure, huh?
I wonder how long this tunnel
...iiiiiiiis!
(splashing)
(gurgling): D’oh!
(mysterious music playing)
(gasping)
Damn it!
(gasping)
How’s it going?
(softly): D’oh!
Uh-huh. Hmm.
Mon Dieu!
(wondrous music playing)
(gasping): Whoo-hoo-hee!
(coins clinking)
Ha-ha! Do-do-do.
Ew! Silver.
Ooh, a penny.
This is my lucky day!
(fanfare playing)
♪ Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques ♪
♪ Dormez-vous, dormez-vous ♪
Oh, I love today’s music.
Frère this, and Jacques that.
Out of sight.
(knocking)
"The Count of Monte Cristo
invites you to a formal gala."
Ooh, the Count of Monte Cristo!
Can we go?
We haven’t been to any parties
since that soirée at the Bastille.
Ah...summer nights.
(horse sputtering)
(regal music)
When will we meet the count?
Do you think he’ll like us?
I’ve heard rumors he’s mysterious.
(trumpet fanfare)
(all gasping)
(kissing)
Madame, you have the shapely, hairless knuckles of a queen.
(laughs): Oh. Well.
Monsieur Meaux,
I would be honored if you would be the first
to enjoy the evening’s entertainment.
Here it is:
the harmless chair of relaxation.
I heard about these things.
They’re good for doing the wife, right?
Oh!
Little do you know that the Count of Monte Cristo
is in fact an old acquaintance of yours.
Ma?
I have returned!
-I don’t get it. -(crowd chatter)
Oh, hold on.
-It’s him! -Monsieur Simpson!
Homer, you’re back!
Oui, oui! And I have spent the last five years
plotting the most exquisite revenge!
(whirring)
Okay, lesson learned. Friends again?
(metallic creaking)
(sizzling)
Crêpes?
Suzette!
(all gasping)
Homer?
Yes, my love?
You killed my husband.
(groans)
No!
BOTH: Papa Meaux! Papa Meaux!
You guys liked him?
We were together for five years.
Now who’s going to take care of the triplets?
(low, Mo-like crying)
But Marge, I did it all for you.
For me, huh?
What took you so long?
It takes time
to make a revenge machine this awesome.
Plus, in the middle,
I had to take revenge on some of my contractors.
You spent so much time plotting your revenge,
you lost everything that really mattered.
Come on, kids.
So you see, Homer, revenge only leads to misery.
(singing Jamaican rap)
(turns radio off) Weren’t you listening?
I just told you a whole story about revenge.
Oh, right.
(engine revving)
Revenge!
♪♪
I’m gonna get my revenge,
and if I get caught, I’m pinning it on the baby
like the time I shot Mr. Burns.
Dad, wait.
I’ve got a story about why revenge is wrong.
Is it The Count of Monte Cristo?
’Cause I love that story.
-No. -Oh!
I call it Revenge of the Geeks.
(collegiate music plays)
(high-pitched groan)
(grunts)
I’m so sick of those bullies.
We got to figure out some way to stop ’em.
Perhaps we could tell the principal.
Tell me what?
(crickets chirping)
(mysterious music)
Behold the Get-back-inator.
(dramatic sting)
We’re gonna beat those bullies with a glove?
This is far more than a mere glove.
This is the turning point in the eternal battle
of brain v. brawn.
All it requires is a small amount of coordination.
(groaning)
I can handle the glove.
I took juggling at camp.
-Wow! -Ah!
Good morning, dinguses.
What are you doing, touching each other’s butts?
Oh, you are so dead you’re alive.
(grunts)
What is this place?
Ah, what a pleasant surprise.
It seems that now the shoe is on the other...
Revenge!
(whirring)
(groaning)
(sizzling)
(whirring)
(high-pitched groaning)
My fun bags!
Please, have mercy!
I always thought you were the coolest dork.
(sizzling)
(clicking)
(whirring and pulsing)
ROBOTIC VOICE: Stop hitting yourself.
-(grunting) -Stop hitting yourself.
Why are you hitting yourself?
(laughter and chattering)
♪♪
Milhouse, thanks to you, the nerds can breathe easy.
Except the ones with asthma, which is all of them.
But still, it’s great.
Yup, having a weapon at school has really made things awesome.
Ow!
(stifled giggles)
Pardon my birdie.
I misjudged the prevailing winds.
You embarrassed me in front of Lisa!
(whirring)
(goofy groaning)
(laughing maniacally)
Milhouse, what’s gotten into you?
Over the years, a lot of people have hurt me.
Good thing I kept this list.
(laughing)
Oh, no, you’ve already got your revenge!
You wouldn’t give me Chinese cuts in the lunch line.
(whirring)
You laughed when I threw up on the glass-blowing tour.
(whirring)
Girls like you better.
(whirring)
Your parents are married!
(whirring)
Ay caramba!
(whirring)
That’s the only line I get in your stupid story?!
There are no small parts, just small actors.
(laughs)
(whirring)
This is my first day at this school.
I haven’t done anything to you!
You will.
This is prevenge.
(whirring)
(groaning)
Why, look, it’s Milhouse.
What’s the power glove for?
Opening the cap on your weirdo pills?
(whirring)
(grunts)
Willie, clean up this mess.
All right.
(slurping)
Milhouse, don’t you see?
You’re addicted to revenge.
You’ll learn to love it when you’re my queen.
I see.
(nervous chuckle)
While it would be an honor to be your queen...
Go on.
...I feel it would be best if we just stay friends.
Nobody spares my feelings!
(tense music)
(grunting)
I can’t do it.
I can’t hurt you, Lisa.
(Milhouse gasps)
Ha-ha! You forgot about me
’cause I had the mumps.
(whirring)
(goofy groaning)
(pulsating whirring)
Wow!
That had what I really like in a story:
an ending.
The point, Dad, is that when you take revenge,
you become just as bad as the person you harm.
No, sweetie, the lesson is:
never put down your weapon.
Revenge!
Look at that view.
It reminds me of how insignificant
we are in the world.
Yeehaw!
This is it.
It’s taken all day.
We’ve missed our flight to Hawaii,
but finally I’ll get my revenge.
Dad, wait!
You haven’t heard my story.
You?
You’re too dumb to tell a story.
No, seriously, you’re great.
Let’s hear it. Oh, geez.
My story takes place
in a time I call the past.
♪ ♪
Ugh, that stunk worse than boiled cabbage.
You should feel lucky.
Not many boys have parents who can afford
to take them to the opera every night.
Parents who are still alive,
I might add.
Hmm, well, this alley looks dangerous.
I better turn my ring around.
Oh, boy.
Hand over your wallet.
You don’t frighten me!
Or my wife!
Or my...
Shut up.
Avenge me.
In flamboyant, impractical fashion.
♪♪
(somber music)
I want to avenge you, but I don’t know how.
With my help.
Grandpa?
In my younger days,
I was an ace crime fighter.
The "Crimson Cockatoo."
(laughing)
Now let’s get you in shape in an old-timey way.
(20's jazz music playing)
Holy Hannah!
I’ve got more muscles than a New England Clam Bank.
Now all I need is a superhero name.
You can be the Crimson Cockaboy.
Hmm?
I’ll keep thinking.
(exciting orchestral music)
(gun clicks)
Help! Somebody help!
That thief stole all my Heralds, Tribunes, and Herald-Tribunes.
A k-k-k-kid!
I’m Bart-Man. (grunts)
-(yelling) -(sizzling)
Thank you, masked vigilante.
Your overzealous homicide has saved me 80 cents.
Now, if you’re not going to buy anything, please move along.
Tonight, the Springfield...
I mean Gotham underworld is trembling
while solid citizens sleep snug as a bug.
Why? Because Bart-Man is knocking down bad guys
like Howard Hughes knocks up young starlets!
Bad guys like
The Toker...
D'oh!
The Diddler...
(groans)
Mr. Mole...
-(grunts) -Oh!
Sugar and Spice.
BOTH: Oh!
And Poison Lenny.
Oh!
No snake tattoo.
(groaning)
When will I find the man who murdered my parents?
When?
(speaker): Attention, Bart-Man.
This is The Serpent,
saying "fangs a lot"
for getting rid of the competish.
More stuff for me to steal!
Ha-ha!
No villain is safe from me, Serpent!
But I’m not a villain. I’m a transvestite.
Explain that to your maker.
(sizzling)
I’ll take it from here, Bart-Man.
(gun shots)
(mysterious music)
(people chattering)
No sign of the Serpent, Chief.
Everything’s work with you. Lighten up.
(snake charmer music playing)
That music-- it’s so hypnotic.
My bone has a mind of its own.
I’ll be snaking those jewels and venom gotta go.
Sorry I didn’t asp your permission.
Hope that’s cobracetic.
Hey, jerk, puns are lazy writing.
D’oh!
Huh?
(glass shattering)
Party’s over, Serpent!
No kidding because you’re standing in the dip.
(gasping)
(guns clicking)
(dramatic orchestral music)
You!
You’re the man who killed my parents!
Oh! Ahh! Ooh.
I did it. I finally got my revenge.
But it didn’t bring your parents back.
Tell me, big boy, was it really worth it?
Well, I do feel a little better.
Plus, I got zillions of dollars
and no parents to tell me what to do.
Bart-Man, don’t you want to join us?
Don’t talk to me when I’m vibrating.
So you see, revenge is great,
and there’s three ways to talk about it.
Although two of the ways were kind of the same way,
and even the third one might have worked better
as a Halloween story.
(laughing): That’s okay, boy.
The two of us got to talking.
Yeah, turns out we have a lot in common.
We’re both from Connecticut.
Look at all them stars.
How many do you think there are?
Two.
What the...
Two? You think there are two...
Well, I never.
How could you...?
Why do you think it is that mankind
is so inclined towards hating one another?
I don’t know.
Let’s just lay here till we figure it out.
(dramatic, solemn orchestral music)
Captioned by VISUAL DATA
Shh!
Enhanced by Fotokem