CHOIR: ♪ The Simpsons ♪
(bell ringing)
(whistle blows)
(playing blues)
(tires screeching)
D’oh!
(screams)
(tires screeching)
Hey!
(machine whirring)
(squeaking)
(humming)
Ooh, the new issue of Smothering Mother Magazine.
Hmm...
"Are Bees Building Hives in your Diaper Genie?
The Deadly Truth about Oxygen."
(gasps)
"Is your Baby a Suckaholic?
Experts see new links between pacifier overuse and...
(gasps)
...low achievement."
(sucking)
Maggie, honey, this is for your own good.
Growing up means giving up
everything that makes you happy.
It’s true. I’ve given up everything but raisins.
And the doctor says they’re killing me.
Sweet, plump coffin nails is what they are.
(groans)
(loud crash, meowing)
(whimpering)
(crashing continues)
(toy clicking)
Maggie, I’m sorry you miss your pacifier.
But when a mother makes a decision,
she has to stick by it.
(gasping)
Okay, okay, you can have it back!
(groans)
(doll groans)
Oh!
(banging)
I can’t believe you listened to this magazine.
It’s a Larry Flynt publication!
Lisa, stop reading mastheads.
I can’t. I won’t!
(growling)
Where’s your father with those pacifiers?
I couldn’t find Maggie’s brand,
but I got every other kind I could find.
How about Syntho-Nip?
Kiddy Cork?
Thumbstitute?
AccuTeat?
Bink 182?
Want to suck on the receipt?
(crying continues)
Make her stop!
You make her stop! I’ve had her all day!
-I can’t take it anymore! -Larry Flynt?
Larry Flynt? Larry Flynt?
Larry Flynt, Larry Flynt, Larry Flynt?!
(crying stops, dog pants)
(toy squeaking)
ALL: Ooh!
(panting)
Good work, boy.
Just for that, we’re going to treat your heart murmur,
not just "see how it goes."
(toy squeaking)
(squeaking continues)
(muttering): Oh, stupid baby.
Growing her brain on my dime.
(squeaking)
ANNOUNCER (on TV): Are you counting sheep all night long?
(bleats)
Mhmm.
He needs help!
(baaing): Help from a drug!
ANNOUNCER: That help is here. Meet Nappien
(chimes, angelic harp playing)
Nappien activates your brain’s napping centers,
and attacks your body’s awake-agens.
And unlike Sleepia, it won’t cause
foot fattening or elbow stink.
Ooh!
Okay, Nappien,
do your stuff.
Hmm, it’s not working.
You lousy, worthless piece of...
(snoring)
(Homer yawns)
What a wonderful night’s sleep.
Thank you, methasorbizone tartrate,
also known as Nappien.
(groans)
Last night, someone ate all the food in our fridge.
Maybe it was the same person
who tied each of the dog’s feet to a toy car.
And someone used our videotapes as dominoes.
Homer, I think you dominoed this.
That’s ridiculous.
If I had set up those dominoes,
I’d be wearing my special domino-setting-up kneepads.
(all gasping)
It was you.
How is that possible?
I’ve read that people do strange things in their sleep
when they’ve taken Ambien-- I mean Nappien.
See? "May cause dry mouth,
mood swings, and nighttime kookiness."
Mood swings?!
Mood swings.
(sobbing): Mood swings!
Mood swings? Mood swings!
Mood swings!
♪ Mood swings! ♪
Mood swings, mood swings!
Mood swings!
(snoring)
(yawning)
Nappien, you did it again.
And everything is as it should be.
(screams): John Lennon?!
Yoko?
So you’re the one behind all these hijinks
at the Rock ’N’ Roll Wax Museum.
ELVIS’S VOICE: Thank you. Thank you.
Oh!
Mr. Simpson, why did you hurt the dollies?
Well, son, your Uncle Homer is like 80% of America--
wacked out on prescription drugs.
But users are losers.
You’re confusing drugs with...
drugs.
(Rod and Todd scream)
Okay, here’s the solution.
I want you kids to lock the bedroom from the outside,
so I can’t get out
and perpetrate my nocturnal mischief.
Why don’t you just quit taking the pills, you hophead?
Because I’m filled with stress!
Oh! I have three kids and no money!
Why can’t I have no kids and three money?
(footsteps running, thudding)
(mumbling unintelligibly)
(grunts)
(thudding, items crashing)
Why am I sleeping
when right next door is every boy’s dream:
a fat, suggestible zombie dad?
(muttering)
(gulping)
(mumbling)
BART (whispers): Hey, zombie?
Huh?
Want to come out and play?
Zombie kill.
No, play!
Zombie file grievance.
(Homer mumbling)
Whoa! Your dad’s a zombie?
Let’s make him give us haircuts.
(Homer grunting)
How does it look?
Ooh.
( mumbling)
And that’s only one of the cool things
we’re going to do with him.
Zombie montage.
♪ ♪
(whistling)
Oh! My stomach is groaning with walnut meat.
Come on. Just one more.
(groans)
(mumbling)
What the...?! My car?!
Milhouse?! Nutmeat?!
(screams)
(tires squealing)
(all screaming)
(screaming continues)
(screams, grunts)
(screams)
(firehouse alarm bell ringing)
(grunting)
(growling)
(men screaming, dogs growling)
Oh, my God, what have I done?!
You’ve horribly injured the whole fire department!
What are you, a travel agent?
’Cause you’re sending me on a guilt trip.
Sorry.
BROCKMAN: While our brave firemen recuperate,
Springfield is a town without a fire department,
which is bad news for people like this man.
Sir, how does it feel knowing
that no one is coming to save you?
Oh, not as bad as knowing that somewhere,
gays are marrying each other.
That’s the real emergency, Kent.
Once again, crisis has brought out the best in us.
I feel kind of responsible.
Maybe I should volunteer to be a fireman.
Volunteer fireman? Count me in.
Just call me Fireman Skinner.
You know, I think I’ll volunteer, too.
Why did you say too?
Well, I assume I’m not the first one.
MAYOR QUIMBY: It is with great pride
that I turn over the safety of this city
-to the first four people who showed up. -Mm-hmm.
Your sense of civic duty
and this pamphlet that came with the fire extinguisher
are all the training you need or shall receive.
-Mm-hmm. -Yeah!
We’re here to join the volunteer fire department.
You’re too late. Beat it!
Lousy civilians.
I wish I could burn ’em all.
Easy there, Fire Chief Moe.
(Homer giggling)
Oh, I can’t wait for my first fire.
(gasps) Is that one?
That’s just someone barbecuing.
Oh!
(gasps) Is that one?
That’s a guy with red hair.
D’oh!
Sweetheart, come to dinner.
I can’t!
That fire siren could sound at any moment.
Any moment.
♪ ♪
Did I say any moment?
Any moment.
(firehouse alarm bell ringing)
What the hell is that?
That’s the fire siren!
(whooping)
Marge, when you see me next,
I’ll be a soggy, smoky hero.
Mmm.
Soggy, smoky hero.
(guttural utterance)
Just come back alive, okay?
Don’t tell me how to do my job!
You save-a Luigi’s place! Mwah! Mwah!
Luigi give you all the food you want!
On the house!
(all slurping and moaning)
Hey, this is sweet, huh?
Almost makes up for not gettin’ paid.
We don’t get what?
(slurping)
(metal creaking)
(grunting)
Oh, thank you.
Your jaws of life are superior to my movie Jaws of Life.
You guys are the real deal,
as opposed to my movie The Real Deal,
which was not the real deal.
Well, uh, your thanks makes it all worth it.
No, I must thank you properly
with crew jackets from my less successful films.
Total Explosion, Father of the Presi-bot,
I Shoot Your Face, I Shoot Your Face Again,
Frankenberry the Movie 2: The Frankenberry Wears Prada.
Ooh, leather arms!
People just give you this stuff?
Hey, it’s the least they can do
after we saved them from being melty-faced weirdoes.
We are entitled to some sort of compensation.
After all, we’re volunteers.
That’s right, ’Pu.
People owe us because we’re heroes.
It’s even on my business card.
I printed them on the back of my old business cards.
See? It’s different.
Mr. Burns, jump into this net!
What’s in it for me?
Just jump!
(whimpering)
(wind whistling)
(groaning)
So, I see by your tie you’re a Yale man, too.
Let’s croon, shall we?
♪ Boola, boola, boola, boola... ♪
Well done, gentlemen.
Too bad Smithers didn’t make it.
I’m right here, sir.
Excellent.
But since I thought you were dead,
you won’t get paid this week.
Make a note of it.
Well, that doesn’t quite seem fair.
(mutters)
But you four, you’re the real heroes.
Oh, we don’t need...
It was nothing, really.
Just doing our job.
What do you think he will give us?
Fine art, I bet.
No, no, no, the complete Munsters on DVD!
I hope it’s spaghetti.
(clears throat)
Thank you, and good-bye.
-Wha...? -Huh?
Ta-ta, toodle-loo.
Go back to your tenements,
where the O’Briens live next to the Goldbergs,
who rub elbows with Antonellis,
and the only thing you have in common
is the squalor of your chamber pot!
Oh, how I hate you!
Bye-bye.
Of all the nerve.
Burns stiffed us!
I can’t believe he acted completely in character.
Lousy Burns, so ungrateful.
I hate him so much.
Hold on a second, fellas.
I don’t like the looks of that flaming ember.
I’d better blow it out.
Ha, ha, ha.
(blowing)
-Hmm. -Hmm?
(Moe continues blowing)
Oh, the fire has spread to this room full of valuables.
And it’s our duty to follow it.
Well, the fire’s out, but, uh
I think some of these valuables are smoke-damaged.
He’s not gonna want ’em. Heh-heh-heh.
Moe, are you suggesting that we should steal?
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
It ain’t stealing if you take it fast.
(screams)
Gentlemen, I’d like to thank you.
You’ve saved my store.
Well, most of it.
What do you mean?
Uh, well, your building will be fine, but unfortunately,
a lot of your merchandise was completely vaporized:
high-end stereo equipment, size 10 men’s shoes...
And some stuff I wanted.
Oh, my.
I didn’t think the damage was that bad.
But you must be telling the truth.
You’re firemen, after all.
Yeah, we’re awesome.
This’ll make a great toilet seat.
Uh... hmm.
Uh, gentleman, I’m, uh...
(chuckles) I’m starting to wonder
if we’ve crossed a line here.
Just what are you getting at?
Yeah, Hall Pass.
You better not be thinking of ratting us out.
It would be a shame if the next fire you fought was in hell!
Okay, okay.
I’ll just look the other way.
(grunts)
You guys sure aren’t making this easy.
(fire alarm ringing)
Oh, thank God there’s a fire.
Marge’s birthday’s coming up.
I think what she would treasure most
is a gift bought through
-honest effort because... -(siren blaring)
...integrity...
...trust...
-...exploitation... -(siren blaring louder)
...the golden rule...
...role models...
...serious crime...
...zero tolerance...
...the Ten Commandments...
(siren blaring louder, alarm sounding)
Next time Maggie does that in a pool,
tell me quietly; don’t announce it.
But, Mom, the lifeguards have to know.
Just let the chemicals deal with it.
(siren approaching)
Look at me! I’m a fireman!
Hey, Mom, can we go see Dad put out the fire?
Well, I guess every boy should see his father as a hero.
Hey, guys, check out the radical-free air
generated by my stolen Ionic Breeze.
Oh, bogus gizmo, grant me eternal life.
Mom, is Dad stealing from people he’s supposed to help?
(groans)
BOTH: King of thieves, we worship you.
(chuckles)
(gasps) He is stealing!
Oh... uh...
HOMER: Look at me, guys!
I’m stealing five Segways at once!
And speaking of segues,
I’m off to my next morally questionable activity!
(grumbles)
You’re nothing but a diabolical master thief!
The kind that haunts the slopes of Saint Moritz
or the casinos of Monte Carlo!
We’re not thieves; we’re scavengers,
like the beautiful vulture or the heroic tapeworm,
or America’s sweetheart, the maggot.
You should’ve seen the faces of your children
when they caught you stealing.
Kids, get in here and show your father the faces!
(gasps)
(sobbing)
Make them stop!
You make them stop by doing the right thing.
("Sad Eyes" by Robert John playing)
♪ Sad eyes ♪
♪ Turn the other way ♪
♪ I don’t want to see you cry ♪
♪ Sad eyes ♪
♪ You knew there’d come a day ♪
♪ When we would have to say goodbye ♪
♪ Sad eyes. ♪
(music stops, alarm sounding)
(all grunting)
(coughing)
Moe, can we talk?
Are you crazy?
It’s 500 degrees in here!
Oh, no, wait, it’s only 495.
What’s on your mind?
Moe, I think
-we may have perverted... -Go on.
...our duties as firemen.
(groans): Oh.
(both scream)
First Skinner, now you.
Well, maybe you got a point.
Maybe we...
A solid gold grandfather clock!
(sizzling)
Oh! This thing’s hotter than Ellen Barkin!
(floorboards creaking)
Moe, I can save you, but you have to let go of the clock!
But it’s been in my family for over 40 seconds!
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!
What about Nabu?
Apu is dead.
I was reincarnated as this cat.
(both gasp)
(chuckles)
Oh, you have just been Apu’d!
(groans)
♪♪
My baby! My baby!
Could do worse than grow up to be like you, sir.
Let’s hear it for Homer!
(cheering)
So Daddy saved Apu and Moe.
And believe me, we learned our lesson.
What’d you do with all the loot?
We sent it to skid row, where it would do the most good.
Look at me. I’m the bum of the future!
Captioned by VISUAL DATA
Shh!
Enhanced by Fotokem