(Futurama theme plays)
(The Simpsons theme plays)
(gasps)
(school bell ringing)
(Barney belches)
-(whistle blows) -(yells)
(beeping)
(playing the blues)
(tires screeching)
D'oh!
-(tires screeching) -(grunts)
Okay, going down the checklist--
Feu allumé. Oui.
Ballon gonflé. Oui.
Now enlevez le ballast!
(car alarms wailing)
Commencing aerial inspection of the plant.
Unflattering graffito...
(humming)
...neutralized.
(gasps) Gadzooks!
The one hazard this balloon cannot negotiate...
a gentle breeze! (shouts)
(popping)
Help! Curtail my ascent! Curtail it, I say!
Hey, Mr. Burns needs our help!
Let's just shoot at him and see what happens.
Good thing I went hunting this morning.
Bagged me an elk.
-Hey, where'd it go? -(elk bellows)
Huh! I wonder if that's the same elk.
Oh, I can't do it.
A balloon saved one of my arteries.
It doesn't seem right to kill his cousin.
Looks like it's up to me.
Let's see, target at two o'clock.
Adjust for wind.
Just shoot already.
But I haven't finished my rituals yet.
Mwah!
Ah. Mmm.
(grunts)
(gun cocks)
BURNS: Help! I'm wafting on a zephyr!
(geese honking)
-(gunshot) -(squawking)
That's just sick.
-(all laughing) -You stink!
Nice shooting, Annie Oakley!
If you were a biathlete, I'd say "stick to skiing."
Simpson, your sharpened-shooting has saved my life.
Name your reward.
Anything, just name it.
All your money and all your stuff.
Lower and likelier.
Uh, Super Bowl tickets?
Playoff tickets?
Regular season, bobblehead day?
Nothing-head day!
Wow! I know I laid down in front of bulldozers
to stop this stadium from being built,
but I have to admit, it's pretty sweet.
It's so fancy--
sushi bars, a 60-screen movie theater,
Museum of Tolerance.
-Hm. Oh, man. -Oh, geez. That made you think.
They, even have a day spa
staffed by former All-Pro linemen.
You know, I wouldn't have to do this
if I hadn't bought a Ferrari a day for 22 seasons.
Flip over.
I once hosted Saturday Night Live.
Once again, ladies and gentlemen,
-Matchbox 20. -Who dat?
Ooh, they even have a zoo...
featuring all the NFL mascots.
(animals roaring, screeching)
(dolphin chittering)
This place even has its own arts district
with football-hating intellectuals!
(scoffs) We'll stay for one inning, then we can go.
Well, this has been great.
We should get home soon-- the game's gonna be starting.
Homer, the game is right here.
(audience cheering)
(chuckles) Oh, that's right!
I hope you kids are enjoying yourself today,
because you and your children will be paying for this place
long after the team moves to another city.
(audience cheering)
(cheering)
Ooh, the Fan Cam!
♪ Everybody dance now ♪
(music playing)
♪ Give me the music ♪
♪ Everybody dance now ♪
♪ Do, do, everybody dance now ♪
♪ Do, do-do-do ♪
AUDIENCE: Boo!
Come on, party pooper, bust a move.
Nah. This song's a little bossy for me.
Aw, come on, sourpuss.
(exclaims)
-Tickle-tickle! -(laughs) Stop it!
-Tickle-tickle-too! -Cut it out!
-Tickle-tickle-who-wants-a-pickle?! -What does that mean?!
Homie, maybe you should stop.
We've talked about the gray zone.
Marge, he's laughing. That means he's happy.
Has the Joker taught you nothing?
-Ticky, ticky, ticky! -(giggling) Quit it!
(laughter)
Knock it off! Stop it!
Dad, this isn't funny!
The child has wetted his trousers!
(laughter)
Dad, how could you do that?
The whole audience saw me pee my pants!
Son, I'm really, really sorry.
Oh, I don't know if I can--
Whoo--
ever make it up to you.
I-- Whoo!--
but I sincerely--
Whoo!
Homer, just because everyone else is doing the wave
doesn't mean you have to.
No one else is doing it. I'm trying to start it.
Whoo!
Taking pity on the boy,
the operators of Springfield Stadium
opened the stadium's retractable roof
in an attempt to dry his pants.
Unfortunately, the stain was picked up
by Russian spy satellites, and President Dmitry Medvedev
has taken the pants-wetting as a sign of American weakness.
A Russian flotilla has just entered New York harb...
Oh. Bart's never gonna forgive me for humiliating him.
And I wouldn't blame him.
You've destroyed our son's self-esteem.
Well, it was your idea
to give him self-esteem in the first place.
MARGE: I told you you should've stopped the tickling.
HOMER: Now I have to work overtime...
-MARGE: What?! -...just to counteract
the self-confidence...
Hey, Bart, I hear the forecast is for showers...
in your pants!
I'm on an European vacation,
but "you're a-peein'" everywhere!
"Oui, oui!"
(grunting)
Oh. Why did I agree to moderate this teleconference?
You can't let this go without using it
as a chance to improve your fathering.
Well, of course,
I would love to be a more sensitive father.
You know that.
That's great!
Then you won't mind me enrolling you in a fathering class.
I'd like to see you thumb through
an extension school catalog and find one.
-(shrieks) -Here's one right here.
Please, Marge, no!
The other negligent dads will make fun of me.
They're so cliquey.
You'll be fine. You always are.
Oh, I miss my friends from drunk driving school.
(sobbing) They were so cool.
(continues sobbing)
(phone beeping)
(line ringing)
Homer, welcome to Fresh Start,
a fathering enrichment class.
My name is Dr. Zander.
Last week we assigned everyone to keep a fathering journal.
Gerald, would you like to share your entries?
Absolutely, Dr. Zander.
"Monday-- left work early to see Derek's baseball game.
When Derek saw me in the stands,
his smile was worth a million dollars.
Tuesday-- lost a million-dollar account
because I left work early Monday."
That's great journaling. Comments?
Uh, Homer, it says here you've been a father for ten years.
-What has that taught you? -Well, for one thing,
you're never really ready to be a father.
But... oh, you know, the other day,
Bart, the little dickens,
said I had an elephant butt.
So anyway, I'm strangling him, and I said to Bart...
Wait. H-Hold on a moment. You were strangling your son?
Yeah, strangling.
I mean, it's not the only tool
in my parenting toolbox, but... (chuckles)
it's the sharpest. (chuckling)
Right?
Anyway, I said, "Bart..."
You're actually serious?
You physically lay your hands on your boy's neck?
Well, yeah, I... I guess it's just how I was raised.
Look at these grades! They're a disgrace!
No TV for a week!
Why, you little...
(gagging, grunting)
So, are those butter cookies for everybody, or...
Um... why don't we stop there for today,
and I'll see you next week.
(whispering loudly) Who do you have next period?
(humming)
Hey, Doc.
(mouth full) Where is everybody?
I told them not to come.
Why didn't you tell me not to come?
Homer, to emphasize the seriousness of this situation,
I'm going to turn my chair around backwards.
-(screams) -I feel...
in this situation,
the only option is a risky and radical treatment.
Homer, meet Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.
Dr. Zander and I play pick-up basketball on the weekend.
And when he told me what you do to your son,
I was so disturbed I only scored 172 points.
I had 86 assists.
But today he's here to assist me with you.
What... wh-what are you doing?
Homer, it's time you understood what it feels like
to be young, small, and terrified.
No, Doc, please.
I'm just a little boy.
Why, you little...
(Homer grunting, choking)
-(grunting, choking continues) -I don't want to hurt him, Doc.
You have a good heart, Kareem.
Which is why you're the only Laker I could trust
with this task.
(grunting, choking)
Uh, not a good time to water the plants?
No, it's fine.
(grunting, choking)
Hey, Kareem, what do you think about today's selfish players?
(gagging)
Ball-hogging, tattooed...
♪ No more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ No more Mr. Cle-e-e-ean ♪
♪ No more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ They say, he sick, he's obsce-e-e-ene ♪
(music continues)
(gagging)
Dr. Zander, you made me see my life through Bart's neck,
and I swear, I will never,
ever strangle my boy again.
I believe we've made excellent progress here today,
and after another few years of twice-weekly sessions,
-we can really... -Um, I, uh, lied
about having health insurance.
And you're cured.
-Hello, boy. -Homer.
I want you to know I'm cured.
Good for you. No more drinking?
(chuckling) Oh, son. I can't quit drinking
any more than I could quit being a man.
Oh. Now it feels like morning.
What I am cured of is the blind rage that has soured
our otherwise storybook relationship.
Go ahead, just try to provoke me.
(sighs) I just got up, man.
Oh, come on. Bust your daddy's chops.
(sighs) Fine.
(angry grunts)
Why, you little... I'll teach you to...
-I'm in your head, man. -(screams)
Why, you... (grunts) I'm gonna... (grunts)
Maybe this time...
(grunts, groans)
(pained grunts)
Aw. My son's first stroke.
Say...
(slurring) "Cheese."
Can't hurt the boy. Can't hurt the boy.
(yells) What the...
Boy, get down from there.
Okay. First, I'll send down my shoes.
All right. (screams)
Why, you little...
Oh, come on. Now you're a tree?
(gagging)
(sobbing)
(laughing mischievously)
(whistling)
(panicked shouts)
Bart Simpson.
What would your father say if he knew what you were doing?
He'd say, "I'm a grown man who's scared of my own son."
I find that hard to believe.
Oh, yeah? Look.
How many more, sir?
Fill the board, then wash my car.
These are my keys.
-What was that? -I-I said,
"My keister is ready for a whooping, sir."
(sighs)
(Willie grunts)
(Chief Wiggum groans)
No. No. I'm just a kid.
Leave me alone.
BART: It's "A-B-C, one, two, three!"
It's the easiest song in the world!
(Homer sobbing)
You think you're better than the Great Simpsini?
-(grunting) -Well, you're not.
What are you gonna do, write a book about me?
-(grunts) -You couldn't get in the door
of Random House if your name was Bennett Cerf III.
-(grunting) -One, two, three, cry.
-(grunts)
How is that water? Wet like your tears?
(grunting)
Precious, is that you?
Yes, Mama.
You think you're so pretty.
Where's my lotto ticket?
I forgot, Mama.
(screams)
And don't you come back without it!
You hear me?!
Hurry up!
(whimpers, panting)
(Homer cries out)
I don't see many more movie roles for a girl like you.
Not unless George Lucas needs another Death Star.
No! Stop! No Star Wars parodies!
-Homer! Homer! -Oh! What?!
(panting)
The school called and said Bart is out of control.
I think we may need some therapy for him.
Oh, that's ridiculous.
How could two people from the same family need therapy?
Hmm.
(wind whistling)
Dr. Zander? Kareem Abdul-Jabbar?
Anyone?
Hmm.
Hmm. Hmm.
Dr. Zander, what happened?
Oh, it's the damn economy.
When it went south, the first thing people
stopped spending money on was expensive therapists.
So, we all live here now,
along with the other unemployed luxury professionals--
wedding planners, personal shoppers,
aromatherapists,
-high-end caterers. -Mushroom cap?
Those are pieces of broken glass.
Well, I'll pass that on to the chef.
I'll also pass on pieces of your face to my monkeys.
Look, now my son needs your help.
-How much you got on you? -Uh... $23.
And there's a can of beans in my car.
Ugh!
After a PhD, lectures on cruises,
monthly column in Springfield Magazine...
Are there franks in the beans?
(grunting)
So whatever you did to my husband,
it was too effective.
Mm, mm, yes.
One of the most common complaints about therapy.
And now my son is a bully. Can you fix him?
Probably, but we should discuss it in your car.
The sommeliers are coming.
-Buttery finish. -Great year for Zin.
This is what I drink at home.
(Marge yelps)
Homer, Bart,
this weekend in the wilderness should repair
the shattered bond between the two of you.
I find that in a natural setting...
(rattling)
-(laughs) -(whimpering)
Very funny, Bart.
That's not the snake, is it?
Sorry, little friend.
Slither back to your natural element.
(screams, whimpers)
Now, Bart, I want you to guide your father
safely through these cacti.
-Then what do we win? -A better relationship.
-Oh! -Okay, go straight.
-(yells) -Three steps right.
(whimpering)
-Two to the left. -(shrieks)
Now, Bart, you do understand
you're supposed to avoid the cacti.
Sure do. I'm just bad at counting.
-Two to the right. -(shrieks)
-Backwards one. -Oh! (gasping)
-Diagonal two. -(yells)
-Now do-se-do. -(Homer screams rhythmically)
While your father and brother are doing
some manly bonding in the woods,
I thought we could do a little bonding of our own.
We'll do each other's nails, make some brownie sundaes
and watch the four saddest horse movies I could find...
(Marge reading titles)
And the fourth one has a title so sad I can't even say it.
Really? Can I see it?
(sobbing)
GIRL (on TV): Oh, Beauty,
I don't need money or parents
or eyesight when I've got you.
(whinnying)
(gasps) Oh, I always forget about this part.
(sniffles, cries)
Oh. I don't know.
There's something about this noose I just don't like.
Homer, desperate times call for desperate measures.
If you hop down from that limb, I assure you,
Bart will cut you down.
I don't know.
Keep your neck inside the rope at all times!
(sighs)
(choking)
Well? Anything?!
Can't look. Texting.
-(cell phone chiming) -Ooh, a text.
Let's see. Text message for I.M.A. Wiener.
As you all can see, I.M.A. Wiener--
-(laughter) -I see it, Moe.
Why, you! When I...
When... I... get ahold... of you, I...
Oh, damn it, I typed an "F" and not a "D."
Uh, delete. Delete. Delete. Delete.
Oh, crap, I just donated $20 to Haiti!
(laughing)
Bart, I'm trying to get you to feel something for your father!
I feel something for him.
Here it comes. (burps)
-Why you little... -(choking)
Oh, this is a tough neck!
Oh, it's so strong! Like an oak.
You see? You see how that boy pushes your buttons?
We'll talk when he's dead!
-(grunting) -(choking)
Just break already!
(choking)
(sighs) Thanks, Dad.
Son, you and I are gonna be closer than ever
as we spend the rest of our lives suing that therapist.
Sue me for what? My home in a hollowed-out tree?
(contented sigh)
Pretty sweet, eh, boy?
You know, I was skeptical, but I guess therapy works.
(theme music playing)
♪ He said, no more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ No more Mr. Cle-e-e-ean ♪
♪ No more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ He said, you're sick ♪
♪ You're obsce-e-e-ene ♪
♪ No more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ No more Mr. Cle-e-e-ean ♪
♪ No more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ He said, you're sick ♪
♪ You're obsce-e-e-ene ♪
♪ E-e-e-ene, E-e-e-ene ♪
♪ Whoo ♪
-(crowd murmuring) -Shh!
Subtitled by A. Vandelay