♪ The Simpsons ♪
(bell rings)
(work whistle blows)
-(sucking) -(register beeping)
(jazzy solo)
(tires screech)
D'oh!
-Aah! -(tires screech)
(Krusty laughing, alarm clock buzzing)
Good morning, world!
Ow!
(whistling)
Ow... Ow...
(Bart whistling)
Good morning, Lisa.
What are you so happy about?
Why shouldn't I be happy?
It's a beautiful day, my homework is done,
I got my mojo working, and we're going on a field trip
this afternoon.
And looks like I got me
a genuine glow-in-the-dark police badge.
Hmm...
Hey, it's not in here.
You stole it!
No one wants your stupid police badge, Bart.
Hey, look what I got--
a genuine official police badge.
Calling all cars.
Come out with your hands up.
Hey, that's my badge, Homer.
That's Officer Homer.
(Homer chuckles)
Lousy prize-grabbing, badge-wearing...
Aah!
You ate my homework?
I didn't know dogs really did that.
(horn honking)
wait! Wait!
(panting)
D'oh!
Bart Simpson, you're late.
Go fill out a tardy slip.
But I'm only five... 10, 20... 40 minutes?
That's pretty damn late.
BOY: Come on, over this way.
Hey, girls
look at me!
(ripping)
You can stop looking at me now.
Ooh!
(groaning)
Well, it's nearly 1:00,
-and you know what that means. -(cheering)
That's right! It's time for our field trip
to the chocolate factory.
I trust that you all remembered to bring your permission slips?
Aah!
Ugh!
Oh, what a day.
LISA: I'm going to eat eight pieces of chocolate.
I'm gonna eat chocolate till I barf.
(chuckling) Don't worry, Bart.
We'll find something fun for you to do.
Ah, here we are. Here's a whole box of unsealed envelopes
for the P.T.A.
You're making me lick envelopes?
Oh, licking envelopes can be fun.
All you have to do is make a game of it.
What kind of game?
Well, for example, you can see how many you can lick in an hour.
Then try to break that record.
Sounds like a pretty crappy game to me.
Yes, well, get started.
(excited chattering)
Oh, my God!
It's Cocoa Beanie himself.
I think this is something Bart would really have enjoyed,
but it's the only way he'll learn.
TEACHER: Shh!
Welcome to the chocolate factory.
I'm Troy McClure.
You probably remember me from such films
as The Revenge of Abe Lincoln
and The Wackiest Covered Wagon in the West.
The history of chocolate starts with the ancient Aztecs.
In those days,
instead of being wrapped in a hygienic package,
chocolate was wrapped in a tobacco leaf.
And instead of being pure chocolate like we have today,
it was mixed with shredded tobacco,
and they didn't eat it-- they smoked it.
You didn't believe me when I said it would be fun, did you?
No, "thir."
(groaning)
(kids cheering)
(excited chattering)
My glasses!
Please, kids, play sanitary.
(grunting)
(scraping)
-Tan I doe now? -What?
"Tan...
I... doe... now?"
Hmm...
Well, there's still a minute to go.
Oh, why not?
But don't you tell your teacher I let you go home early.
Die don't.
(thunderclap)
(kids laughing)
Aah!
Ugh!... Aah!... Unh!...
Son of a-- (grunts)
-What next? -(guns click)
Uh-oh.
-Hey, what's with the kid? -Hands off the material.
What do you know? The kid's tough.
He's got spunk.
I wonder if he is lucky also.
Pick a horse, kid.
Shelbyville Downs, third race.
-Make it a good one. -Eat my shorts.
Eat My Shorts.
Okay, let's see.
Hey, wait a minute, you little punk!
Eat My Shorts is in the fifth race.
I said the third race.
-Don't have a cow. -Hmm.
Don't Have A Cow in the third.
Put a deuce on him.
While we are waiting, to see how lucky you are, let me show you around.
This is our bar,
and over there is our slot machine and card tables.
Cool.
Hey, Buzz, here's the call for the third race.
ANNOUNCER: As they come out of the turn,
it's Suffering Succotash by a neck over Yabba-Dabba-Do,
two lengths back Ain't I A Stinker, and That's All Folks.
I Am What I Am can see them all.
But here comes Don't Have A Cow flying on the outside,
and at the wire, it's all Don't Have A Cow.
Hey, I like this kid.
I can't believe we were going to shoot him.
-Can you mix drinks? -I don't know.
-I'll have a Manhattan. -Make Legs a Manhattan.
-I'm not sure I-- -(guns cocking)
(gulps) Mmm, mmm...
Mm-hmm.
Hmm.
(ice shaking)
(liquid pouring)
(slurping)
-(sloshing) -Well?
Superb.
MARGE: You got a job? Doing what?
Uh, I don't know.
Mixing drinks, picking horses
cutting cigars. You know, a job.
Bart, your father and I don't want you doing that.
-Homer, say something. -How much does it pay?
-Thirty bucks a week. -(raspberries)
I make more than that.
♪♪ ("One Fine Day" plays)
♪ One fine day ♪
♪ You'll look at me ♪
♪ And you will know love was ♪
♪ Meant to be ♪
♪ One fine day ♪
♪ You're gonna want me for your girl ♪
(gasps)
I was looking for those. Thanks, doll.
(grumbles)
♪ The Itchy & Scratchy Show ♪
(screaming)
(laughing)
It's funny because it's true.
Well observed.
Chief Wiggum, you honor us with your presence.
Baloney! I'm not gonna rest
until one of us is behind bars-- you.
You wouldn't happen to know anything about a cigarette truck
that got hijacked on Route 401?
What's a truck?
Don't play dumb with me.
Relax, Chief. You seem tense.
You know, the boy here makes an excellent Manhattan.
Ah!
I'm still going to put you away, ya' know.
Good for you.
♪♪ (humming tune)
(gasps) Bart! Have you started smoking?
-No. -Don't lie to me, boy.
Uh-huh! Cigarettes.
Just as I thought.
They're not mine. My boss said his warehouse was full.
Yeah, right.
Son, I'm going to teach you a lesson.
I'm going to stand here
and watch you smoke every one of those cigarettes.
Then maybe you'll learn.
Fat Tony sent me over to pick up the goods.
Right in here, my man.
Hey kid, you look good with that cigarette--
kind of sophisticated.
Son, I'll never doubt you again.
MAN (on TV): The contents of the hijacked truck--
some 12,000 cartons of Laramie 100s.
(reporters yelling)
We have-- Please!
We have a number of leads.
And let me assure all you smokers out there,
there is no shortage of cigarettes.
How do we know that?
Let me refer that back to Jack Larson of Laramie Tobacco Products.
-Jack? -Thank you, Chief.
Folks, I'm pleased to announce that a new truckload of Laramies
with their smooth good taste and rich tobacco flavor
is already heading toward Springfield,
and the driver has been instructed
to ignore all stop signs and crosswalks.
(cheering)
Police suspect the involvement of reputed mobster
William "Fat Tony" Williams.
Fat Tony is a cancer on this fair city. He is the cancer,
and I am the...
Uh, what cures cancer?
-Bart, is your boss a crook? -I don't think so,
although it would explain an awful lot.
Me and the boys wish to thank you
for hanging on to this stuff for us.
Thanks.
Uh... say
are you guys crooks?
Bart, um... is it wrong to steal a loaf of bread
-to feed your starving family? -No.
Well, suppose you got a large starving family.
Is it wrong to steal a truckload of bread to feed them?
-Uh-uh. -And what if your family don't like bread?
-They like cigarettes. -I guess that's okay.
Now, what if instead of giving them away
you sold them at a price
that was practically giving them away?
Would that be a crime, Bart?
Hell, no.
Enjoy your gift.
Superb.
♪ Those fingers through my hair ♪
♪ That sly come-hither stare ♪
♪ That strips my conscience bare ♪
♪ It's witchcraft ♪
Give me three fingers of milk, Ma.
(grumbling)
I know it's good for a boy to have a part-time job,
but I'm not sure about the people Bart's working for.
-I think they're criminals. -A job's a job.
I mean, take me. If my plant pollutes the water and poisons the town,
by your logic, that would make me a criminal.
Bart's been acting very strangely.
And that pizza delivery truck
has been parked across the street for two weeks.
How long does it take to deliver a pizza?
Looks like our cover's blown.
Let's roll.
See? It was all your imagination.
Homer, I want you to go down to that club
and talk to them.
See what kind of people they are.
Please, Homie.
Oh, all right.
Hmm.
(Homer chuckling )
Read 'em and weep, boys.
Another pair of sixes.
-Beats me. -I was bluffing.
-You win again, Homer. -(Homer chuckling)
I am thrilled you've decided to let your boy
continue to work here.
Y'know, if you need a hat-check girl, I've got a daughter.
Homer, you're a hell of a father.
Homer! What did you find out?
Marge, the only thing going on down there
was a lot of male bonding.
More stink lines, boys.
-(gasping) -Hmm?
What's this? What are you boys doing?
(yawns loudly)
You didn't see nothing. Now, beat it.
So, Fat Tony, you invite me and my associates to your club
with the promise of the finest Manhattans in all of Springfield.
Now you say your bartender isn't here?
I don't know what happened. He's never late.
Louie, make up some Manhattans.
But I only know how to make wine spritzers.
Now!
(slurping)
What have I done to deserve this flat, flavorless Manhattan?
Mmm...
Come on, boys.
The kiss of death.
That's all I need.
(grumbling)
...lousy Skinner.
-You are late for work. -Of course I'm late for work!
How can I be on time when Principal Skinner keeps me after school?
This guy Skinner is causing you trouble?
He sure is, patron.
Hmm. Perhaps we should go
to meet and greet this individual.
Come on, boys.
Some large men to see you, sir.
I don't have an appointment with any large men.
You Skinner?
I'm Principal Skinner, yes.
And how, may I ask, did you get past the hall monitors?
(snickering)
Children, I don't know how to break this to you,
but Principal Skinner is...
missing.
(cheering)
Uh-oh.
-(gasps) -Wha--
(sputtering)
Hm-mmm.
I thought I found him, but it was only a cat.
-Chief Wiggum? -Chief Wiggum?
Now, please. Please, I can assure you
we'll be using the most advanced scientific techniques
in the field of...
body finding.
I see wedding bells
for Vanna White and Teddy Kennedy.
Please, Princess Opal, if we could just stick to Principal Skinner.
Chief Wiggum, I am merely a conduit for the spirits.
(gasps) Willie Nelson will astound his fans
by swimming the English Channel.
Really? Willie Nelson?
He loved fire drills.
Will you get a hold of yourself, lass
for the wee bairns.
Hey! Look at me!
-I'm Skinner's body. -That is not funny, Louis.
Well, I heard Skinner's buried under his parking spot.
I heard he was ground up into hamburger and served to us at lunch.
I heard Bart had Skinner killed by gangsters.
That's not true. It's just a rumor.
You're engaged in speculation.
I know the law. You can't prove anything.
(groaning)
Whaa!
You killed me, Bart!
(screams)
-Nuhh... -Nuhh...
Nuhh!
(gurgling) You killed me, Bart!
(screams)
You k-k-killed me, Bart.
(screaming)
(grunting)
Reverend Lovejoy!
You've come to comfort me?
Yes, Bart.
There, there.
(jeering)
Kill my boy.
There.
(screaming)
You're eight hours early for work.
I like that.
Did you kill my principal?
Uh, Chinese guy with a moustache?
No. My principal!
That Skinner guy? No, we didn't kill him.
Nobody move! You're all under arrest
for the murder of Seymour Skinner.
-What's a murder? -Don't play dumb with me.
Cuff 'em, boys.
Oh, Bart.
Why couldn't you have gotten a paper route
like other boys?
Wait till I get you home, boy.
What's that guy doing here?
Lionel hats, court appointed attorney.
I'll be defending you on the charge of...
murder one!
Wow. Even if I lose I'll be famous.
That Simpson boy is looking at 180 years.
Thank God we live in a country so hysterical over crime
that a ten-year old child can be tried as an adult.
I didn't order this Skinner guy killed.
But aren't you the head of this gang?
No. I just stop by the club occasionally
to read the complimentary newspaper.
Then who is the kingpin, the capo di tutti capi?
-That's the guy. -Hey!
Forgive me, Don Bartholomew.
We tried to stop the kid,
but he wouldn't quit. It was like he went crazy.
Prostitution, loan sharking, numbers...
the kid liked to wet his beak in everything.
Mr. Simpson, you've been the boy's father for ten years.
Do you really think he could be the leader
of a murderous criminal syndicate?
Well, not the leader...
I mean...
Oh, it's true, it's true!
All the pieces fit.
(audience murmuring)
Now, in light of the damning testimony
from your fellow gangsters, your father,
your teachers, and a seemingly endless parade
of emotionally shattered baby-sitters,
this court has no choice but to...
-Stop! -(crowd gasps)
-MARGE: Principal Skinner! -I thought he was dead.
I suppose you're all wondering where I 've been.
It all started a week ago. I was at my desk
revising and updating the school dress codes
when I was suddenly confronted by a gang of toughs
acting on behalf of one Bart Simpson...
or so they said.
We really think there's promise in the boy.
-Get out! -Okay, okay. You don't have to yell.
To get my mind off that ugly confrontation
I went home and began bundling my old newspapers.
But suddenly the pile fell. I was trapped.
Let this be a lesson to recycle frequently.
For the next week, I stayed alive by eating my mother's delicious preserves
and maintained my sanity
by dribbling a nearby basketball with my one free hand.
I made a game of it. Seeing how many times
I could bounce the ball in a day, then trying to break that record.
Occasionally, the police arrived to search my home.
Find anything this time, boys?
-No sign of him, Chief. -Princess opal?
I see nothing here. But I'm afraid it's Splitsville
for Delta Burke and Major Dad.
But they seemed so happy.
I shouted until I was hoarse, but they couldn't hear me.
I'm in here!
-WIGGUM: Well, let's go. -Okay, Chief.
Finally, I realized if I was ever going to get out of there,
I would have to do it myself.
I formed a crude rocket
from a discarded cigar tube.
And remembering an experiment from my days
as a fourth-grade science teacher,
I concocted a fuel from baking soda
and the juice of discarded lemon wedges.
The rocket took off with a mighty blast of carbon dioxide
dragging behind it, the end of a vacuum cleaner cord.
I grabbed onto the vacuum cleaner,
pushed the cord-retractor button
and was on my way to freedom.
And that's my courageous story.
(cheering)
Your Honor, the prosecution moves that Principal Skinner's testimony
be stricken from the record.
Denied. Case dismissed.
Your honor...
uh, do I still get paid?
Hey, Bart, I hope there are no hard feelings.
-Get bent. -I deserve that.
Look, I know we let you down, but me and the boys,
we still think you've got a big future
in racketeering and extortion.
Sorry Fat Tony. I used to think your gang was cool,
but now I learned that crime doesn't pay.
Yeah, you're right.
Blood on the Blackboard: the Bart Simpson Story,
starring Richard Chamberlain as Principal Skinner,
Joe Mantegna as Fat Tony,
Jane Seymour as the woman he loved,
and TV's Doogie Howser, Neil Patrick Harris, as Bart Simpson.
Bart, I'm scared. Let's get out of here.
Shut up. Where do you want it, Skinner?
(spits)
Not smart.
-Cool! -Hey, when do we get the check for this?
Well, they said they changed it just enough
so they don't have to pay us.
You know who the real crooks are--
those sleazy Hollywood producers.
♪♪
Shh!
CAPTIONS ENHANCED BY ROUNDABOUT ENTERTAINMENT INC.