♪ The Simpsons ♪
-(chalk screeches) -(bell rings)
(work whistle blows)
-(sucking) -(register beeping)
(jazzy solo)
(tires screech)
(tires screeching)
(horn honks)
(tires screech)
-Aah! -(tires screech)
Hey, what-- What? What the-- Who the-- (groans)
Dad, the next time we see you
we'll do something more fun.
Oh, what could be more fun
than today's trip to the liquor store?
Thanks for the beef jerky.
Say good-bye to Grampa, everyone.
-BOTH: Bye. -Good-b--
(groans)
You know, Grampa kinda smells like that trunk in the garage
where the bottom's all wet.
Nu-uh, he smells more like a photo lab.
Stop it! Both of you.
Grampa smells like a regular old man
which is more like a hallway in a hospital.
Homer, that's terrible.
We should be teaching the children to treasure the elderly.
You know, we'll be old someday.
(gasps) My God! You're right, Marge!
You kids won't put me in a home like I did to my Dad, would you?
-Well... -(screams)
Marge, what do we do?
Well, I think we better set an example.
Absolutely. Our third Sunday of every month
should be a pleasure, not a chore.
Where's someplace fun we can take Grampa next time?
-To the pony ride. -No.
-Yeah! -Boring.
-He can't sit on ponies. -Well, I always enjoy the glass blower
-at old Springfield town. -Aw, he saw that.
Big yawner.
The Museum of Barnyard Oddities.
-No, Bart, no. -Bart, gross.
-BART: Gosh. -I got it.
The Springfield Mystery Spot.
LISA: Dad, it's just a dumb mud puddle.
(Homer gasps)
ALL: Discount Lion Safari!
(muttering)
Hey! These aren't my pills.
Now, now, Mr. Simmons, don't make me call Nurse Bronski.
(groans) That's Simpson, damn it,
and these aren't my pills!
Excuse me, nurse. My name is Simmons,
and I think I have the wrong pills.
I get two red ones for my back spasms,
a yellow one for my arrhythmia,
and two of the bluest eyes
I've ever seen in my life.
Then these must be...
And I have your...
-They must have... -They must have...
(both laughing)
(both coughing)
Look at us. We're staring at each other
like a couple of stupid, punk teenagers.
Oh, I wasn't staring.
It's, uh, my lazy eye.
I'm Beatrice Simmons, but my friends call me Bea.
Well, I'm Abraham J. Simpson.
Care to tip the wrist with me? (clicks tongue)
(chuckles) Oh, I would be delighted.
So, um-- (clears throat)
...tell me about yourself.
Eh, widower, one son, one working kidney. And you?
Widowed, bad hip, and liver disorder.
You left something out.
Ravishing.
(both laugh)
Mmm!
Ohh!
Mmm, num-num-num-num num-num-num-num.
Num-num-num-num.
Mmm!
(moans)
(both slurping)
(cups clatter)
And what are you doing tonight?
Sitting alone in my room.
Oh, well, if you've got plans already--
No. What were you going to say?
-Oh, nothing. -Oh, Abe.
You were going to say something.
Well, I was wondering if you and I,
you know, might go to the same place at the same time, and--
Jeez, you think this would get easier with time!
I'd love to.
(singing gibberish)
♪ Taxi, honey ♪
(gibberish)
♪ Half past three ♪
Okay.
Now where's that pomade?
Ah! "You'll never fly solo again." Ooh!
(humming)
Ah, damn, out of pomade.
Oh, well. (hocks)
Ooh, hello, young lady.
-Is your grandmother home? -(chuckles)
Oh, Abe, I can tell I better keep my good eye on you.
Damn straight.
♪♪
♪ Embrace me ♪
♪ My sweet embraceable you ♪
♪ Embrace me ♪
♪ You irreplaceable you ♪
BEA: ♪ Don't be a naughty baby ♪
ABE: ♪ Come to papa ♪
♪ Come to papa-do ♪
BOTH: ♪ My sweet ♪
♪ Embraceable ♪
♪ You ♪
Herman, a very special lady is having her birthday tomorrow.
Ah, The battleship "New Jersey."
No, you idiot! My girlfriend Bea.
And since this is the only store I know--
Oh, Grampa, nothing says "I love you" better
than a military antique.
Let's take a look at the bayonet case, huh?
Hey, what's that?
(chuckles) That, my friend, was Napoleon's hat.
It doesn't look like Napoleon's hat.
Well, it's not the famous hat.
It's the one he wore for a week in April, 1796
just before he defeated the Sardinians.
Ooh, how much?
-$400. -I'll give you five bucks.
That's not the kind of offer you should make to a man
with a Gatling gun under the counter.
HERMAN: Why don't you try Grandma's World?
Yo, active wear. I need a price check on a wool shawl.
Dad, it's the third Sunday of the month.
You know what that means.
-Go away! -Oh, come on, Dad.
I promise we'll have more fun this time. We're gonna see lions!
I can't go. It's my girlfriend Bea's birthday.
Oh, you have a girlfriend.
(chuckles) Well, happy birthday, Bea.
She can come with us.
Hey, there's room for all your friends in the car.
No! She's not invisible, you idiot!
See? It's her birthday tonight.
Yeah, right.
Hey! You kids, stop kicking the seat.
I'm kicking the seat.
Dad, don't you want to know where we're going?
-No. -ALL: Discount Lion Safari!
Damn these child-proof doors.
-Hello. -That will be 18.50, partner.
LISA: "Do not feed animals."
"Do not allow animals in the car."
"Do not make eye contact with animals."
(sarcastically) Are we in Africa yet?
Did anybody notice this place sucks?
It seems that most of the animals are sleeping.
Well, let them sleep on their own time.
(horn honking)
Homer, are you sure this is the right way?
The road seems to have gotten awfully bumpy.
-(screams) -(roars)
ABE: What a wingding. This is much better
than my girlfriend's birthday party.
-Homer -Bart, get out and push.
Yeah, Bart. Get out and push.
No way, Jose.
ABE: Okay, we've seen the lions.
Can we go now?
(screaming)
Oh, Bea!
(trumpeting)
(gunshot)
Mr. Simpson, I presume.
Out of my way. I got a date with an angel.
You don't know how right you are, Abe.
-What? -I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this,
but... Bea passed away last night.
Oh, no.
It was her ticker.
The doc said her left ventricle burst.
Oh, no, Jasper.
They may say she died of a burst ventricle,
but I know she died of a broken heart.
ABE: I can tell she really cared for me.
She didn't make me a pallbearer.
(grunting and groaning)
I can't tell you how sorry I am, Dad.
Is someone talking to me? I didn't hear anything.
Oh, no, Dad's lost his hearing!
No, you idiot, I'm ignoring you!
You made me miss the last precious moments
of Bea's life.
I'll never speak to you again!
I have no son!
Oh, Bea.
Oh...
Hmm.
It was a beautiful service, wasn't it, Mr. Simpson?
Ahh! Who the hell are you?
Lionel Hutts, Attorney at Law.
I'm the executor of Beatrice Simmons' estate.
Mr. Simpson, Bea was a wealthy woman,
and, surprise, surprise, she left everything to you.
-Really? -There is one catch.
You must spend one night in a haunted house.
-(gasps) -Just kidding, just kidding.
Here's a check for $106,000
"To enjoy as you see fit."
Oh, I'm touched.
$106,000?
Ta-ta, Mr. Simpson.
By the way, old-timer, I do wills.
Why don't I just give you this pen with my phone number on it.
It looks just like a cigar. Isn't that something?
-(telephone rings) -Hello.
-Hello, Homer? -Whoo-hoo! It's Dad!
Dad's on the phone, he's calling me!
Oh, Dad, oh, I knew you'd forgive me.
I haven't forgiven you.
I just inherited $106,000, and I just had to tell you
that you're not getting one thin dime!
-Ha-ha! -D'oh!
-Mr. Simpson? -Ahh! What is it?
I couldn't help overhearing about your new-found fortune,
and let me assure you that here at the Springfield Retirement Castle,
money does make a difference.
-Huh? -(chuckles)
I mean, there are rubdowns,
and then there are rubdowns.
Listen, you bloodsucker, has it ever occurred to you
that old folks deserve to be treated like human beings
whether they have money or not?
Yes, but it passes.
Ohh! You lousy son of a--
I'll take it.
Hey, big spender, why the change of heart?
Bea told me to enjoy my moolah,
and I'm going to, dagnabit!
Huh.
-(bell jingles) -Yeah.
Yeah.
So, where to, pappy?
Eh, take me someplace fun.
You're the boss.
Next stop... Funsville.
(crowd clamoring)
Ayah.
I miss Bea.
I miss you too.
(screaming)
Oh, Abraham, calm down. I'm not here to scare you.
They've got me haunting a family in Texas.
Oh, I'm glad you're keeping busy.
Now listen Abe. I want to know why my money isn't bringing you happiness?
Oh, Bea, I'm not cut out for the high life.
Abraham, if you're not happy with the money,
why don't you spread it around?
Make other people as happy as you made me.
Oh, thanks, Bea, I will.
And go see your son. He misses you.
Oh, I miss him, too, the big, fat Dickens.
Hey, Bea, I've got to ask you.
What was death like?
Not as scary as this!
(all screaming)
(crying) I miss my Daddy.
Homer, this thing with your Dad
has had you moping around the house for days.
I think it's time for you to talk to someone who understands.
Hiya. You've reached Doctor Marvin Monroe's anxiety line.
-(doorbell chimes) -If you have a sullen teenager,
press one now.
If you're estranged from your spouse, press two, now.
If you have trouble maintaining an...
-Grampa! -Huh?
-Dad! -Sonny boy!
Is there room at your table for a foolish old man?
Well, sure.
Eh, we'll have to move a chair in from the den, but it's no problem.
-Bart! -Choose your corn cob.
En garde.
Challenge accepted.
-All my precious stacks of gold... -(belching)
...couldn't buy me the pleasures of a simple family meal.
Pass the bug juice, Dad.
Wait your turn, you pig.
I have an announcement to make.
I've decided to give Bea's money away.
There are people who really need it.
I'm gonna let them come to me
and plead their case, and then I'll decide
who needs it most.
Grampa, that's the noblest thought that's
ever been expressed at this table.
-Give it to us, Grampa. -Bart! Forgive him, Dad.
He's just a stupid little kid,
who says the first thing that pops into his head,
but you know, there's wisdom in his innocence.
-You don't want it. -Yes, I do.
Too bad, you ain't gettin' it.
Not since this reporter's marriage
to Stephanie the Weather lady,
has this town been so consumed with rumor and innuendo...
all because of this man.
Today, one Abraham "Grampa" Simpson
announced that he will give away over $100,000
to the person or persons he finds most deserving.
Is Grampa Simpson a modern day saint, a rich nut, or both?
Only time will tell.
This is Kent Brockman,
on line for an old man's money.
Ah, you see, Gramp, I want to customize the bus.
You know, chop the top
jack it up, put mag wheels on it,
psychedelic paint job from hell, man.
Jam the kids to school at 150 miles an hour.
Here's an artist's rendering.
Note the cobra wrapped around the naked chick.
-Next. -Duh...
Grampa... I can call you "Grampa," can't I?
Yeah, yeah, go ahead.
Alright. I need that money. Please. Please!
Wait a minute. Wait.
You're that guy who owns the nuclear power plant.
Well, the ownership is divided.
What the hell do you think you are doing?
Mr. Simpson, I dread the day
when $100,000 isn't worth groveling for.
Get out of here!
You just made yourself a very powerful enemy, old man.
Here's the deal, Grampa.
A guy I think was an explorer left this in the bar one night.
It may be a map to ancient treasure,
or directions to some guy's house,
but to find out, we'll need money,
we'll need provisions, and a two-man diving bell.
It's pretty stupid,
-but so far, you're the front-runner. -Hmm.
It's a special isolation chamber.
The subject pulls levers to receive food and warmth.
The floor can become electrified,
and showers of icy water randomly fall on the subject.
I call it the "Monroe Box."
-Uh-huh. Well, it sounds interesting. -Uh-huh.
How much will it cost to build?
Oh, that's the beauty part. It's already built.
I need the money to buy a baby to raise in the box
-until the age of 30. -What are you trying to prove?
My theory is that the subject will be socially maladjusted
and will harbor a deep resentment towards me.
Hmm, interesting.
Let's see. I want a tear gas pen,
-a blow gun with paralyzer darts... -Oh, no.
-Nunchakus. -Nunchakus?
-Yeah. -What the hell are those?
A copy of "Radioactive Man, #27."
That's the first time he fights Dr. Crab.
And I wanna buy that baseball card
where the guy's flipping the bird.
Oh, yeah, I've seen that one.
Oh, and a monkey.
What the hell is that?
Why, it's a death ray, my good man.
Behold.
Hey, feels warm.
Kind of nice.
Well, it is just the prototype.
With proper funding, I'm confident this little baby
could destroy an area the size of New York City.
But I want to help people, not kill them.
Oh. Well, to be honest, the ray only has evil applications.
You know, my wife will be happy.
She's hated this whole death ray thing from day one.
Oh, Lisa, what makes you think you deserve all that money?
I don't deserve it, Grampa. No one here does.
The people who deserve it are on the streets
and they're in the slums.
They're little children who need more library books
and families who can't make ends meet.
Of course, if you really wanted to,
-you could buy me a pony. -You're right.
I'll name her Princess and I'll ride her every day.
No, you're right about all the poor souls
who need a helping hand.
I need to take a walk to clear my head.
-(siren wails in distance) -Oh, dear.
(baby crying in distance)
Ah, I'm exhausted.
Oh, poor baby.
Been lifting your wallet?
No! I'll have you know
I've decided to give my money away to truly needy causes.
-Hmm. -But $100,000 just isn't enough.
I need more.
Well, why don't you go on the seniors' gambling junket?
I bet you could double your money or even triple it.
Well, it's tempting.
Plus, they got a 99¢ shrimp cocktail.
You sold me.
-(Otto humming) -Slow down.
Are you trying to get us killed?
It's too hot, ya' maniac! Turn on the air already!
Hey, mellow out, old dudes,
or I'll jam this baby into a river, all right?
(humming to Edgar Winter's "Frankenstein")
Miss, I'm looking for Abe Simpson.
It's important I get a hold of him.
I have to tell him I don't care about his money
and I love him.
We get that a lot.
He left with the senior casino junket.
Casino? (screams)
(humming Jethro Tull's "Aqualung")
Come on, everybody!
(humming together)
Hello, I am Plato.
Please partake of keno, craps, and the loosest slots in town.
My philosophy is "enjoy."
Change, please.
(gasps)
(tires screeching)
A double cheeseburger, onion rings, large strawberry shake,
-and, for God sakes, hurry. -(distorted voice on speaker)
$5,000 on...
-What century is this? -The 20th.
Great! Put it on #20.
Excuse me.
Excuse me, have you seen an old man with a lot of money?
He looks like me, but he's wrinkled.
Hello. Have you seen a-- Dad!
No!
-DEALER: 20 black. -(Abe laughing)
-Holy moly. You're winning. -All mine, all mine.
Beat it, boy. You're cramping my style.
Dad, please, you gotta quit while you're ahead.
You got to take your money and leave, now.
Sorry, boy. I have to get enough to help everybody.
But you could lose everything. Come on!
Homer, I think Rudyard Kipling said it best.
"If you can make one heap of all your winnings
"and risk it on one turn of pitch and toss, and lose,
"and start again at your beginnings
"and never breathe a word about your loss,
"yours is the Earth and everything that's in it.
And, which is more, you'll be a man, my son."
You'll be a bonehead. Come on.
Put it all on 41. I've got a feeling about that number.
The wheel only goes to 36, sir.
Okay, put it all on 36.
I've got a feeling about that number.
Dad! No! Give me that money.
Come on. Stop it. Ow!
Ow! You're hurting me!
-Thirty-six! -No more bets.
Oh!
Son, if this lands on 36, I'll...
Double zero.
Son, you saved me from losing all my money.
For the first time in my life, I'm glad I had children.
So, uh, have you figured out who gets the money?
Yes, Homer, I have.
(laughing)
(crowd gasping)
Come on in.
Dignity's on me, friends.
♪♪
Shh!
CAPTIONS ENHANCED BY ROUNDABOUT ENTERTAINMENT INC.