("The Simpsons Theme" plays briefly)
(menu selection sound popping)
(dramatic music playing)
GRUFF‐VOICED MAN: A greedy man once yearned for more,
so the fool began to borrow.
He ate and drank and told the bank,
"I'll pay the debt tomorrow."
But as both dolt and purse grew fat,
the calendar grew thinner.
(glass shatters)
The debt collector had enough
and hungered for his dinner.
‐(grunts) ‐(gunshots)
‐(guns click empty) ‐(gasps)
The coward ran, with coin in hand,
but come dawn, lost his breath.
The fool was caught,
'twas all for naught,
for the collector's name was Death.
(chuckles) Heck of a poem there, fella.
I just caught the tail end.
You got any more chilling verses in that book of yours?
Oh, this isn't a poetry book, cowboy‐man.
This is a ledger of debts.
Debts to be paid in money or blood,
and lately, Venmo.
I've been sent to collect in blood.
(guns cock)
Don't do this!
I have a wife and two young mistresses,
also a secret other wife.
Please, I'm a good man.
A good man!
(pen clicks)
In my experience, Mr. Texan...
...there's no such thing as a good man.
("The Ninety and Nine" by Burl Ives playing)
♪ There were ninety and nine that safely lay ♪
♪ In the shelter of the fold ♪
♪ Of the fold ♪
♪ But one was out on the hills away ♪
♪ Far off from the gates of gold ♪
♪ Gates of gold ♪
♪ Away on the mountain wild and bare ♪
♪ Away from the tender shepherd's care. ♪
Mm, as pristine as the Garden of Eden
before Eve came along.
Homer Simpson?
I didn't know you were a fellow volunteer Litter Gitter?
No, I'm doing community service
'cause of where I told the judge to shove some parking tickets.
Well, sir, I guess your punishment
is my predilection to do good.
Oh, Flanders, you do so much for the town,
yet no one ever appreciates you for it.
Why, thank you, Homer.
Not a compliment. Saying you're dumb.
(shouts)
Shucks! (grunting)
Gosh! Ah!
Honey, ooh, mustard!
(groaning)
Hey, that's a strange place to check your bag‐a‐rino.
Dear Lord.
HOMER: Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap,
crap! Oof!
(groans) I saw you fell,
so I rushed over to laugh at you, then...
♪ ♪
Aw, it's always been my dream to find a bag of money.
You stole my dream.
You know, I'd say it's all a part of God's plan,
but usually that only applies to horrible tragedies.
Aw, a do‐gooder like you finding this money
is proof that karma is real, which sucks
'cause now I can't club you over the head and take it.
Aw, thanks, neighbor.
$173,296.
We should get a huge terrarium with like a million turtles.
No, we should get a speedboat with bunk beds on it.
‐Turtles. ‐Bunk‐boat.
‐Turtles! ‐Bunk‐boat!
(sighs) I wish your great‐grandfather,
Paw Paw Flanders, was still here to guide us.
He was the finest man I ever knew.
Pouch of chewing tobacco for myself
and a pouch of candy tobacco for my grandson.
♪ ♪
Paw Paw, that man stole a loaf of bread.
It's under his T‐shirt that says... (shivers)
Linda Ronstadt.
Stay here, Neddy.
Afternoon, mop top.
Yeah?
♪ ♪
Here's some "bread" for your bread,
my countercultural friend.
‐Have a good one. ‐Death to pigs, except you, man.
Gee, Paw Paw, why didn't you arrest him?
Neddy, when I was growing up at the orphanage,
the nuns taught us one thing:
the harder the good, the better the man.
Boys, I know just what to do.
(overlapping excited chatter)
BARB: Oh, my gosh.
In all my years of orphanagereal management,
I've never seen a donation this generous.
The town's gonna go ape over bananas
when it hears all about your generosity.
Oh, no, no, no, no, no.
I always donate anonymously.
"When thou doest thine alms..."
"Do not sound a trumpet before thee."
BOTH: Matthew 6:2.
(both laugh)
Aw, but wouldn't you like some accolades
and attaboys for being such an upstanding fella?
Oh, I don't do good deeds for recognition.
That's why no one ever gives it to me.
(gasps) Hold on.
What if you donated that money in the name of someone special?
(gasps) I could honor my Paw Paw.
Oh, see? Nothing prideful about that.
Now, what's the name of the saintly fella
you'd like to give all the credit to?
Ned Flanders.
Uh, the First.
ORPHANS (chanting):
Ned's number one!
Paw Paw was technically Ned number one,
so that chant's okay with me.
So, how does it feel to be the most beloved man in Springfield?
You mean, the grandson of?
It feels darn‐diddly good.
♪ ♪
(sighs)
I love a pomegranate.
Its juices remind me of the bloody profession I've chosen.
No, I agree, it's not subtle.
Anyhoo, the Rich Texan account has been balanced,
and I'll be bringing you the proof.
No, not the whole head.
They only let you have one bag on United.
An anonymous do‐gooder donated a fortune to a local orphanage,
money found in an old Pan Am bag.
A grand total of $173,296.
I'm staying in Springfield.
I have a very old, very personal debt to collect.
I spoke to the generous donor, who insisted on anonymity.
(deep, distorted voice): It feels darn‐diddly good.
(Irish accent): Good day to you, shopkeep.
Quite the collection of funny books you have here.
Wonder if you could help us.
Looking for a local fella, name of Flanders.
Do I look like the town's information kiosk to you?
It is much smaller than I.
Hit the bricks, Lucky Charms.
(laughs) I like a good joke.
But my partner?
She's not quite as jovial.
‐Now, where's this Flanders chap? ‐(lock clicks)
Ooh, locking the door as a means of intimidation.
How original.
(groans) The silent but violent accomplice,
another overworked cliché.
(grunts)
(speaking French)
Correction, French accomplice.
An unexpected yet still underwhelming twist.
Two stars.
Just point us towards Ned Flanders,
and Colette won't have to spoil
this lovely morning we're having.
(screams)
(pained groan)
Mando! (gasps)
Stop, stop! I don't know where Flanders lives,
but you can always find him at the First Church of Springfield.
Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?
I'll let you get back to your Heathcliffs and your Garfields.
I only like the cat ones.
‐(shoes squeaking) ‐(door opens, closes)
Um, two thugs just manhandled me in the collectibles.
(over phone): Why the hell am I paying you for protection?
If another outfit is moving in on my town,
then appropriate violence will be taken.
(bell tolling)
Bye, now.
Mr. Flanders, it's an honor
to live next door to such a generous man.
Baller move, Ned.
You splashed the cash on some no‐dads,
and now you're the top God‐wad. Respect.
Well, I can't accept your praise,
as that donation wasn't in my name.
Oh, you heard him, kids. Take back your praise.
Anonymous Boy Scout Superman
doesn't want any hugs or handshakes
or little pats on the head.
(chuckles) Well, I wasn't trying to‐‐
Um, oops.
I forgot my Bible inside. Bye.
♪ ♪
Uh, pardon me, sir.
I believe that's my good book you're giving a look.
"Ned Flanders."
Used to be a man had to die
to get his name printed in his Bible.
Eh, guess I saved someone the trouble.
Hey, haven't seen you in our church before.
Are you new to the pew?
I am a debt collector by trade,
and this ledger is my "good book."
I only have one unbalanced debt, my very first.
It's like having a tickle in my nose for 50 years
but never getting to sneeze.
That's the same amount I‐‐ (gasps)
This is now your debt to me.
(whimpers)
ORPHANS: Uncle Neddy!
Barb, am I glad to see you.
You know, I was just talking to...
He's gone.
No, I'm not.
I started to hide, but I couldn't find any good places.
I'll see you later.
That was the most terrifying man I ever met.
Yup, he's an odd duck, all right.
Say, I'm glad I found you.
The Springfield Winter Markets are opening tonight,
and I was pondering if you wanted to come with. (chuckles)
To chaperone the kids?
To chaperone me.
Like a date.
ORPHANS: Ooh!
Get out of town. You? A javelin thrower?
Oh, yeah. I would've qualified
for the Pine City Junior Throwlympics, but,
you know, that was the year the good Lord
thought to bless me with my top shelf here.
I hated to hang up my javelin clogs,
but luckily I discovered my true passion:
parentless children.
Barb Belfry, at the risk of sounding crass,
I... I think you're swell.
Cute couple alert.
(imitating a siren): So cute, so cute!
Some arm candy for Flandy.
Whoop‐de‐do.
(blows raspberry)
Uh, you've had a little too much eggnog.
Nog just gives voice to truth.
That's right, neighborino.
I'm onto you.
When you bought all the orphans in town,
I thought you were a fool,
but now I see what you really did with that money:
buy the love and admiration of all these suckers.
CROWD: Boo!
All right, noggy, into the drunk rink with you.
(Homer groans)
Go slip it off.
(grunting)
(Barney groaning)
I've never been so humiliated at a seasonal market.
How can someone else's generosity make you angry?
Mm, because that money should've been mine!
I fall down inclines all the time,
and all I ever get is concussionezzezzezzezzes...
zzezzes.
Wow. I can't believe I'm married
to the most selfish man in the world.
("No More Hot Dogs" by Hasil Adkins playing)
‐(tires squealing) ‐(man laughing rhythmically)
(groans) How come every song you play
has to be so kooky and obscure?
Just for once, I wouldn't mind a little Taylor Swift
before we commit an atrocity.
‐(music stops) ‐(speaks French)
It's right here.
‐(wind whistling) ‐(gasps)
Relax. I remember it.
Evergreen Terrace.
740... something.
♪ ♪
(snoring)
‐(growling) ‐Hmm?
‐(barking) ‐(whimpers)
(whimpers)
(barking)
(chewing)
What do you got there, boy?
Drop it, boy. Drop it.
(gasps)
(distorted screaming)
‐Doggy man face. ‐(growling)
(Homer mumbling groggily)
(distorted screaming)
Nighty night, Mr. Flanders.
Well, as the picture frame said to the level,
that was quite an even‐ing.
(laughs)
Oh, this was the best night I've had
in a month of Sundays.
Barb, if I were to kiss you right now,
would, uh, would that be all right?
Golly, it sure would.
Hot dog!
Well, bye.
Ned, would you like to come in and see my javelin medals?
‐Oh, yeah. Oh, you betcha. ‐(moaning) Diddly.
‐That's the business. ‐Doodly.
‐Oh, good golly, Miss Molly. ‐Great golly.
‐Right in the kisser. Oh, yeah. ‐(moans)
Is that... is that Sideshow Mel? (chuckles)
You must be a real fan.
Well, I used to be. (chuckles)
(gasps) He's your husband?
Well, technically, but don't you worry, hon.
We got an arrangement, me and Mel.
What?!
I get to have my extracurriculars
and, uh, so does he.
Well, he tries, anyway. Aw, bless his heart.
Oh, Lordy, I'm an adulterer.
Don't mind me. Just rebooting the Wi‐Fi.
Gah, the cuckold!
Oh, come on, Mel. You knew I had the living room tonight.
Check the darn schedule.
Don't worry about him.
He can turn his video game up real loud.
Barb Belfry, this diddly‐daliance
is doodily‐done.
‐(door slams) ‐(Sideshow Mel laughs)
Another Craigslist winner?
Oh, shut up, Mel.
♪ ♪
Your prized piggy,
Mr. Ned Flanders.
(groaning groggily)
This is not Ned Flanders.
W‐Well, sure it is.
Why, look at his credit cards,
his medic alert bracelet,
the tag on his suspiciously tight undershirt.
(chuckling): They‐they all say Ned Flanders.
Stupid Flanders, getting me kidnapped.
You've brought me the wrong man!
Okay, okay, I'll just get rid of him.
Don't kill him.
Yet.
It's your lucky day, big boy.
I hope you like HGTV.
This one loves the Property Brothers.
‐Giant charmless goons. ‐(whimpers)
Oh, Lord, seems like everything's gone screwy
ever since I donated that money in my name‐‐
(stammers) I mean, in, uh, Paw Paw's name.
Oh, are you punishing me for one small,
possibly prideful moment?
(phone rings)
(gasps) God?
Not quite, church chum,
but another friend of yours is on the line.
Flanders, you got to save me.
This guy's way too weird not to be dangerous.
He doesn't even look at his phone when he's bored.
He's not human, I tell you.
You've got 24 hours to get me my money,
or I'll take out his tonsils with a power drill.
No cops.
(doorbell rings)
Ned, Homer's missing.
I just found the back door open, his car's in the garage,
and the dog looks really queasy for some reason.
(groans)
(burps)
The last thing I said to Homer
was that he was the most selfish man in the world.
Do you think I should call the police?
FLANDERS: Oh, no. If she calls the police, Homer's dead.
If I want to save his life, I have to... tell a lie.
Uh, H‐Homer, uh, uh, stopped by here last night
(stammers) and apologized for being a jerk to me,
and‐and, uh, you know, then he hopped on a bus
to Shelbyville for a‐a‐a three‐day
anger management course at the Airport, uh, (stammers)
Hyatt‐Hyatt Express.
That doesn't sound like Homer.
Are you calling me a liar?!
No, but if anyone other than you told me that story,
I'd be a little suspicious.
Oh, you got to believe old Honest Ned.
Anyway, I'm, uh, late for my, uh... hormone therapy.
Bye, now. No cops.
Something about this just doesn't feel right.
♪ ♪
FAT TONY: Ah, donut and a fried egg.
You, stranger, are a man of circular tastes.
On the subject of circles, some associates of yours
roughed up a rotund gentleman under my protection,
and now I am irate.
Hmm.
Did you ever hear the parable of Lucifer and the millipede?
One day, a tiny millipede...
Get the hell out of my town, or else!
(bell jingles)
Excuse me. Have you seen this man?
Sure, that's the hobo
that eats the day‐olds out of our dumpster.
‐Haven't seen him today, though. ‐(groans)
You just ate your last cigar, old man.
Ah, coffee.
Exactly how I like it,
scalding hot!
Ah! But you said hot.
Hot!
‐(gasps) ‐(groans)
(gasps) Gun!
What the...
(to tune of "Stayin' Alive"): Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Stayin'‐‐ (screams)
(screams)
You should've let me finish my parable!
‐(bell jingles) ‐Ahoy‐hoy.
(gasps)
‐(gun clicks empty) ‐Huh?
Uh...
(whimpering)
FAT TONY: Why are you dipping my face in dough?
Why are you kneading my face into an "O" shape?
Why are you pushing my face toward the deep fryer? (sobs)
Oh, I see. Clever.
‐(Fat Tony screams) ‐(grease sizzling, bubbling)
Madam.
(bell jingles)
(gasps) Homer.
‐Oh, no. ‐(bell jingles)
Hands up. This is totally...
Oh, God! My God!
What the hell happened?!
Oh, Mafia guys! Headless dude!
Oh, Disco Man!
I need some water.
Oh! His face is a donut!
That is so messed‐up.
♪ ♪
(sinister laughing)
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Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org
Shh!