CHOIR: ♪ The Simpsons ♪
(school bell ringing)
(whistle blows)
(beeping)
(playing the blues)
(tires screeching)
(horn honking)
D’oh!
(screams)
(gasps)
There’s a bee on Maggie.
Okay, Maggie, just calmly and carefully
back away.
Beehive!
(muffled screaming)
(yells) Blueberries!
(whimpering)
(grunting)
(muffled grunting)
I told you not to mock me at picnics.
(grunts)
Uh, attention, everyone.
Uh, Luann and I have some big news.
Is it that you’re brother and sister?
Because you really look a lot alike.
No.
-Half-brothert and half-sister? -No!
Siamese twins who’ve been surgically separated?
No. We’re getting remarried.
-Oh, that’s great. -Great.
-Ooh, cool. -Way to go.
Many happy returns.
This is so awesome.
Finally you guys will stop using me as a pawn in your fights.
Milhouse, you’re not a pawn.
I know, I know.
Did your father say you were?
No. I swear.
I made it up.
Like kids do.
Well, now that we’re a family again,
you can stop your lying.
-Hmm. Hmm. -Homer.
The wedding’s in 20 minutes.
Just pick a tie.
Mm. There are so many choices.
Bolo? Clip-on? Piano keys?
Ten Commandments of Beer?
The cornerstones of the Brewish faith.
Why don’t you wear a tie that goes with my eyes?
And what color would that be?
You don’t know what color my eyes are?!
Of course I know.
No peeking.
I’m waiting.
Uh...
You really don’t know, do you?
Is "beautiful" a color?
No.
Marge, give me a break.
I don’t notice the color of people’s eyes.
I just judge them on the color of their skin.
Fine. (grunts)
Since the color-- Ah!-- of my eyes isn’t-- Ooh!--
important to you-- Aah!--
then you don’t get to-- Mmm!--
see them until you-- Ow!-- remember.
(groans)
("Wedding March" playing)
She’s wearing white?
She must have rolled the odometer back to zero.
(laughing)
So you’re good at noticing dress colors,
but not the eyes that make your dinner.
(moans)
We are gathered here in the sight of God
and this unsafe-for-swimming beach
to celebrate the holy un-divorcing of Kirk and Luann.
Ow! What the...?
Little help?
(grunts)
-(laughter) -Spaz.
Do you, Kirk, take Luann to re-have and re-hold?
I do.
And do you, Luann, take Kirk--
despite the fact that he is fundamentally the same man
that you said in court
was unfit to load your dishwasher?
-Um... -Whose very touch repulsed you?
-Uh, your... -Whose many annoying...
Uh, you’re reading an early draft of our vows.
Just say "I do."
I do.
You may now kiss the bride.
But make it quick.
The seagulls have gotten into the hors d’oeuvres.
(seagulls screeching)
My friends, do not eat.
Is made with seagull meat.
(ship horn blaring)
See you in a week, Milhouse.
Have fun at the Simpsons’.
If you don’t like Mrs. Simpsons’ cooking,
you have your "mommy meals."
I got ’em. Mm, mm.
Why does every kid who stays with us bring "mommy meals"?
So I put pineapple in my potato salad.
Live a little, huh?
♪♪
That’s why, to this day,
you never see a shark with monkey arms.
Great story, Mr. Simpson.
But why do all your bedroom stories
have commercials in them for The Container Store?
Because if I do it enough, maybe they’ll start to pay me.
Sleep tight.
The Container Store, now at five convenient locations.
Ah... now that my mom and dad are back together,
I’m happy every day.
I can’t wait to wake up so tomorrow can start.
(snoring)
♪ ♪
-(laughing) -Whoa...
(laughing)
Uh-uh-uh.
we’re gonna start this marriage off right.
This time, I’m gonna carry you over the threshold.
(crying out)
(yelling)
(splashing)
Dear God!
I need more nickels!
Luann, is that you nibbling on my knee?
Check it out, an animal hole.
Where does it go?
Only one way to find out.
Ah...! Tarantulas!
I’ll save you, Baby Burps-A-Lot.
(burping repeatedly)
Ah...! Spider burps!
(yelling)
(laughing)
This week is the best.
I don’t care if my parents ever come back.
(sad, melodramatic music plays)
(tires screech)
-(doorbell rings) -(laughing)
Milhouse Van Houten?
(laughing): Yes?
Son, your parents have been lost at sea.
I’m sorry.
Oh, my God!
I said I didn’t care if they ever came back!
This is my fault!
(sobbing)
Drown, monster, drown!
(laughing)
Hey, who died?
My parents, probably.
So you guys aren’t ice cream men?
If my parents are lost at sea, are you gonna find ’em?
We’ll try, but have you ever been to the sea?
It’s huge.
And we have to search all of them--
’cause they all, you know, connect.
(moans)
Don’t worry, boy.
They’ll find your parents soon.
And until they do, you can stay here.
And we’ll move your bedtime to an hour later,
so you’ll have more time to be alone with your thoughts.
(eating noises)
Hey, come on.
Why don’t you cheer up with a glass of Ocean Spray?
(chuckles nervously)
Oh, boy-- forget that.
How about some... Cap’n Crunch?
Uh, Seven Seas Italian dressing?
Ooh! No, no!
Uh, Chicken of the Sea tuna?
Gaah!
Billy Ocean CD? The History of Atlantic Records?
Stop naming things!
I want to, but I can’t!
Then go to Moe’s!
Good idea.
I’ll drown my sorrows in Anchor Steam Beer.
(stammering): Oh! I’m sorry...
Why don’t we do something special for you--
get you all snazzed up.
Like I’m going to a funeral?
No! Don’t talk like that!
There’s always hope.
We just wanted to let you know, we’ve stopped searching.
(irritated growl)
This’ll cheer you up.
I’ll let you kill me in Bar Brawl Four: Final Fracas.
(grunting)
Take that I’ll cut ya...!
Uh-oh. I slipped on some blood.
I’m totally vulnerable to a full-body jukebox slam.
Oh, come on, it’s easy.
Just push A, B, up, up, left trigger, right trigger,
and both triggers at once.
(sighs)
Isn’t there already enough pain in this world?
Let’s just pay the check and go.
(crying softly)
Thanks, Mags.
I could use a pick-me-up.
Oh, my God.
I’ve become the world’s oldest baby.
Men don’t get their moo-moo from a ba-ba.
They get their moo-moo from a big-boy cup!
I can’t be a baby anymore.
I’m alone now.
I have to be a man!
Thanks, Mags.
HOMER: Where is it?
(frustrated grunt)
I gotta find out what color Marge’s eyes are.
Ah... Cha-ching!
(grunting)
Oh!
Oh, Marge, darling, what’s the combination
to our wedding album?
MARGE: Our anniversary!
D’oh!
All right, Dragon’s Eye,
may your path be true and your caroms many.
Just shoot!
SHERRI: Uh-oh, it’s rolling towards that loner!
Who is it?
(impressed gasps)
It’s Milhouse!
That’s not the Milhouse I know.
Haw-Haw! You know Milhouse.
Okay, everyone.
My best friend is a little messed up,
so everyone be extra nice to him.
Hey, loser, your mom called.
She said "Glub, glub."
(gasping)
One day, you’ll be more haunted by those words than I am.
Why aren’t you crying?
I wish I could cry.
Tears would cleanse my soul.
Oh, Milhouse!
(giggles)
You’re very brave.
Go ahead, beat me up.
Maybe then I’ll feel something.
(impressed exclaiming)
(menacing music plays)
Eh, what’s the point?
Milhouse, that was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.
I always wanted you to hold my hand, Lisa.
And now that you are, I’m too numb to feel anything.
It’s like you’re wearing oven mitts
and I’m in my winter parka.
(swooningly): That’s so poetic.
Looks like you’re not the coolest kid in school anymore.
Hey, I’m happy to see Milhouse get some hand-on-hand action.
But no one is cooler than Bartholomew J. Simpson.
Really?
(ominously): See ya at lunch.
Anyone want to sit over here?
You can have my pizza crust.
Young man, you look like you enjoy fun and excitement.
Please, Bart, you’re embarrassing yourself.
(tires screech)
Milhouse, call me if you need to talk.
If you want to come to my place,
I’ve got a squirrel in a shoebox.
I’m just sayin’...
Thanks, but I want to take a walk alone...
BOYS: Whoa!
...and work some stuff out.
(girls swooning)
Come on! Look at me, I’m cool.
I’ve got my backpack on frontwards,
and I’m krumping!
(grunting)
Check it out!
This image has not been sped up.
There’s a time for krumping, and this isn’t it.
(tires screech)
I’ll krump with you, sweetie pie.
(grunting)
Oh, my God.
Look at these poll numbers.
Ay, caramba!
Oh, man.
Milhouse has gone from being a comic figure to a tragic one.
If he could go back to being happy,
I could go back to being cool.
(knocking)
HOMER: Boy, stop talking to yourself.
Your thoughts should stay in your head.
Heh, heh, I sure told him.
Now what am I going to do about Marge?
Let’s see.
Milhouse would be happy again
if he had family to take care of him.
Family, family.
Every Christmas...
Milhouse gets Danish butter cookies from...
Solvang, California...
where he has a beloved un...
cle!
Directory assistance for Solvang,
a little bit of Denmark on California’s central coast.
We have three Van Houtens.
Fine, I’ll call three numbers.
What are they?
Butter cookie 8-2147,
Hans Christian Anderson 5-5166,
and Aquavit 3-2599.
(wheels squeal)
Okay, so which one of these losers
is Milhouse’s Uncle Norbert?
Norbert? Norbert?
Oh, this guy’s a total Norbert.
Norbert? I wish.
My name is Gaylord Q. Tinkledink.
(Tinkledink humming)
♪♪
(man laughing)
Oh, yeah.
(wheels screeching)
Bart, I’m Norbert Van Houten, but everyone calls me Zack.
You’re Uncle Norbert?
Well, I’m one of the Danish Van Houtens,
not the Dutch Van Houtens.
Now, my nephew Milhouse needs me and I’m here for him.
And I’m here to find my nephew Nerdletaub Z. Pantybottom.
(laughing nervously): Let us join forces.
-(grunts) -Ow!
(gasping): Would you be my uncle?
No, but have a butter cookie.
(sighs)
Milhouse, there’s someone who wants to see you.
Uncle Zack?
Milhouse, your parents may be gone, but I’m here for you now.
Well, I don’t need you.
I’ve learned to take care of myself.
I see.
You’ve become quite a young man--
self-reliant, mature.
You’ve shed your Dutch ways and become a true Dane.
But, uh, perhaps you’re not too cool
to give your uncle a hug?
I promise you won’t be alone anymore, son.
And that takes care of that.
(girls sobbing)
Oh, man, now he’s even more popular.
He’s troubled, but I can save him.
Oh, for crying out loud.
Oh, I’ll never remember what color Marge’s eyes are.
Uh... brown? No.
Orange? No.
Elm?
Rake?
Guessing?
(moans sadly)
(laughs)
Well, well, look who’s strolling down Alzheimer Avenue.
You used to know everything about that wife of yours,
even wrote a song about her.
A song?
(gasps)
Wait, it’s coming back to me.
(guitar strumming)
♪ The girl I love’s got beautiful hair ♪
♪ A blue bouffant ♪
♪ From here to there ♪
♪ Snow white teeth and lips so red ♪
♪ She’s the Wilma to my Fred ♪
♪ Oh, the girl I love’s got beautiful... ♪
(gasping): ♪ Eyes ♪
♪ When happy, they sparkle, when sad, they cries ♪
♪ Those eyes are gems beyond appraisal ♪
♪ Stunning shade of purest... ♪
Oh, what is it?
I was so close.
Let’s see, what rhymes with appraisal?
Basil, nasal.
None of these are colors.
Oh, it’s hopeless.
She’ll never love me again.
Oh, Homie.
I’d forgotten that beautiful song you wrote for me.
Hazel!
Your eyes are hazel.
Hazel like the pussy willows
by the pond where we first kissed,
like the almond paste in the bear claw I ate
after we first made love.
(guitar strumming)
Milhouse, that was a perfect landing.
Oh, did you remember to cut off the gas flow?
The what?
(both laughing)
ZACK: Oh, yeah.
Lis, I don’t get it.
Why does Milhouse’s happiness make me sad?
Bart, Bart, Bart.
You’re worried you’re losing Milhouse,
and love is a selfish thing.
Shut up! I don’t love Milhouse.
Oh, really?
The more you deny it, the more I know it’s true.
Oh, yeah? Well, when you’re mean, I’m a trampoline,
so everything you said goes back and hits your ugly head.
(laughs)
God, that was lame.
Where did you get that?
(sobbing): From Milhouse!
Oh, I love him so much!
Aw, it’s okay.
PRINCIPAL SKINNER: Students, I’m afraid I have some bad news.
The coolest student in school, Milhouse Van Houten,
is leaving us.
(all gasp)
He and his uncle, who is also very cool,
will be returning to Solvang forever via hot air balloon.
Our trip will be fraught with hardship and peril,
but it still beats third-period gym with Mr. Johnson.
(all laughing)
Hey, in the real world, rope-climbing skills are vital.
Goodbye, old life.
Wait, Milhouse!
Don’t go!
You’re my best friend.
I have to go.
Well, then I’m going with you.
Bart, climb up.
I... can’t.
Well, what do you think
of Mr. Johnson’s rope- climbing class now?
BART: Still sucks!
Aw, come on.
So who’s up for a trip around the world?
MILHOUSE & BART: I am! I am!
If we can catch the trade winds,
we’ll be in the Florida Keys by tomorrow morning.
I can’t wait to see our little...
(gasps)
Milhouse!
Mom and Dad!
Mr. and Mrs. Van Houten!
Damned Dutchmen!
I’m so glad you’re alive!
I’ll never have to be self-reliant again.
Not so fast, son.
We are trapped on this island.
No worries. I’ve already radioed for a rescue boat
sailed by brave Danish sailors.
More like swishy Danish sailors.
You’re going down, Dutchman.
(Zack and Kirk grunting)
You grapple like a girl!
Captioned by VISUAL DATA
Shh!
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