♪ The Simpsons ♪
(chalk screeches)
(bell rings)
(work whistle blows)
-(sucking) -(register beeping)
(jazzy solo)
(tires screech)
(tires screeching)
(horn honks)
(tires screech)
D'oh!
-Aah! -(tires screech)
Well, children, it's the last day of school.
ALL: Yay!
Here are your grades.
Oh, no, Mrs. Krabappel,
if I don't get a "C" average,
my dad won't let me go to Kamp Krusty.
Well, it isn't fair to the other children,
but all right.
Much obliged, doll.
Oh, Bart Simpson, I'm gonna miss you.
SKINNER: Attention, everyone.
This is Principal Skinner.
I trust you all remembered to bring in
your implements of destruction?
Now let's trash this dump.
♪ School's out for summer ♪
♪ School's out forever ♪
Somebody put a torch to these permanent records.
Quickly now.
♪ Fa-la-la-la-la ♪
♪ La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la ♪
♪ La-la-la-la-la... ♪
Wake up, boy.
(groaning)
Oh... I dreamt it was the last day of school.
Well, it is.
BART: Oh, how do I know
this isn't some beautiful dream, too?
Ow!
You know, a pinch is more traditional.
(grunting, slurping, and belching)
MARGE: Homer, you do remember your promise to the children.
Sure do.
When you're 18, you're out the door.
No, Dad, you promised if Bart and I
got "C" averages,
we could go to Kamp Krusty.
And with no false modesty,
you're looking at one happy camper.
Heh, yeah, well...
just remember, when you see my report card
they got this whole new grading system this year.
It now goes, "D," "B," "A," "C."
Now, listen, boy, we have an understanding
and you better keep your end of it.
I don't think I'd be any kind of a father
if you got "D's," and I let you go to Kamp Krusty.
-But, Dad-- -Son,
if you really want something in this life,
you have to work for it. Now quiet--
They're about to announce the lottery numbers.
ANNOUNCER: 17...
D'oh!
-32... -D'oh!
-Five... -D'oh!
-Eight... -Woo-hoo!
-47... -D'oh!
SKINNER: Attention, students,
Please clear out your lockers
into the wastebaskets provided.
36-24-36.
(chuckling)
(birds screeching and drums beating)
Now, let's see what we got here.
Ah, my gym shorts.
(banging)
Here are your final report cards.
I have nothing left to say to any of you.
So if nobody minds,
let's just quietly run out the clock.
(gasps)
I've never gotten a "B" before.
How could this have happened?
I feel so dirty.
The dirt's not coming off.
Okay, calm down.
This must just be a little typo.
(nervous giggle)
Oh, Miss Hoover.
There appears to be a mistake on my report card.
You gave me a B+ in conduct?
Now Lisa, everyone needs a blotch
on their permanent record.
Perhaps I'm not making myself clear.
I think you should reconsider.
Lisa... you're hurting me.
Mrs. Krabappel, in figuring out my final grades
I hope you'll note that all of my textbooks
are being returned in excellent condition--
In some cases, still in their original wrappings.
Duly noted.
I'd also like to add, as I gaze upon your beauty,
I've never seen an angel fly so low.
Forget it, short pants.
Mrs. Krabappel, If I don't get at least a "C" average
I can't go to Kamp Krusty.
Have a "D"-lightful summer.
(laughing)
ALL: Five...
Four...
Three...
-Two... -Don't open your mouth.
One.
(bell ringing)
(cheering)
Wait a minute.
You didn't learn how World War II ended.
-We won! -(cheering)
(chanting:) U.S.A.! U.S.A.!
I haven't seen such unfettered hurly-burlies
since the fall of Saigon.
Well, William, another school year gone by.
And may I say, a job well done, sir.
Well, back to work then.
Make sure to give those toilets a good scrubbing.
We want the old girls sparkling when I get back.
Aye, sir.
Eh, you silk-wearing buttercup.
All right, three whole months of Spaghetti-O's
and daytime TV.
So, Bart, will you be joining me
in the bucolic splendor of Kamp Krusty?
You bet.
Check out this hand: All aces.
(laughing)
"A+"?
Oh, Bart, why didn't you at least forge plausible grades?
(groaning)
Hi, kids!
Only one week left to sign up for the bestest summer ever
at Kamp Krusty.
(laughing)
Whup!
Hey! Hah! Ho! Ho!
Hey! Ho! Ugh! Hey!
Kamp Krusty is built on an actual Indian burial ground.
We've got archery, wallet-making,
the whole megillah. (goofy laughter)
And for you fat kids,
my exclusive program of diet and ridicule
will really get results.
And the best part is, when you come to Kamp Krusty,
you'll spend the summer with me!
Honest injun. (goofy laughter)
Well... here goes nothing.
-(clanking) -D'oh!
Stupid roller skate.
Well, Dad, here's my report card.
I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.
"A+"? You don't think much of me, do you, boy?
-No, sir. -You know,
a "D" turns into a "B" so easily.
You just got greedy.
So I won't get to go to camp?
Now, Bart, we made this deal
because I thought it would help you get good grades,
and you didn't.
But why should you pay for my mistake?
You mean I can go?
Yeah, I didn't want you
hanging around all summer anyway.
Oh, Dad, you're the best father a boy could ever have.
Thanks, son.
Now you got little hands.
Can you reach under that mower and pull out that skate?
(engine whirring)
Pff. Never mind.
(Marge humming)
Bart, where's your bathing suit?
-I'm gonna swim naked. -You're what?
Ah, sure, there'll be a couple of uptight counselors
who won't dig the Bart philosophy,
but I feel the human body is a thing of beauty.
Marge, am I crazy or is my back getting hairier?
Before I go to camp, I'll need boosters
for malaria, German measles
encephalitis, Hansen's disease.
Oh, now, I'm afraid what we have here
is an advanced case of hypochondria.
There's only one known cure:
A wowipop. (laughs)
Don't patronize me, doctor.
It's our last family dinner for six weeks,
but I promised myself I wouldn't cry.
(grunting and slurping)
(sobbing)
Oh, I'm going to miss this.
Hey, hands off my pickle.
I don't see your name on it, boy.
No, but...
Oh, yeah?
Checkmate.
Always thinking two moves ahead.
We'll see you when you get back
from image enhancement camp.
Spare me your euphemisms.
It's fat camp for Daddy's chubby little secret.
You promised you wouldn't make a scene.
(kissing loudly)
Good-bye, my special little guy.
Lisa, watch out for poison ivy.
Remember, leaves of three, let it be.
Leaves of four, eat some more.
-Good-bye. -Good-bye, Mom!
-Good-bye! -Good-bye, Dad!
I'll write you every day.
Don't look in my closet.
In fact, stay out of my room altogether.
If the pets die don't replace them. I'll know!
(cheering)
WOMAN: So long! Don't come back.
Hi, kids. Welcome to Kamp Krusty.
(goofy laughter)
I'll see you in a few weeks. Until then,
I've turned things over to my bestest buddy in the whole wide world--
(a different voice:) Mr. Black.
-I want you to treat... -Mr. Black
...with the same respect you would give me.
-Now, here's... -Mr. Black.
Thank you, Krusty, and welcome, children.
I am Mr. Black, your head counselor.
For the past 15 years,
I was president of Euro-Krusty land
until it blew up.
I'll take any questions you might have.
You and then, uh... one more.
Can we call you Uncle Blackie?
No. Last question.
When do we get to see Krusty?
Uh, he will be along eventually.
In the meantime our counselors,
Dolph, Jimbo, and Kearney
will be happy to handle any problems you may have.
(coughs)
Looks like we got ourselves a troublemaker.
Hee hee hee.
You can have the shower to yourself, Homie.
-I'm finished. -Oh, no, you're not.
Ooh.
KEARNY: Here's your cabin.
If you don't like it, T.S.
(chicken clucking)
This is a little more rustic than I expected.
I'm not worried, Lis.
You know why?
Because of this--
The Krusty brand seal of approval.
You can only find it on products
which meet the high personal standards
of Krusty the Klown.
Ow!
Oops, I should have warned you.
That clock gets incredibly hot if you leave it plugged in.
That's okay. Uh... all this stuff is fine.
(warbling laughter)
Now, I am off to Wimbledon.
Don't we get to roast marshmallows?
Shut up and eat your pine cone.
Uh... are you sure that's safe?
Well, it ain't getting any safer.
(gasping)
All right, you balls of pan drippings,
I want to see Crisco coming out of those pores.
We're not leaving
until this Christmas ham gives me a pull-up.
(acoustic guitar plays)
♪ Hail to thee, Kamp Krusty ♪
♪ By the shores of Big Snake lake ♪
♪ Though your swings are rusty ♪
♪ We know they'll never break ♪
Louder! Faster!
♪ From your gleaming mess hall♪
♪ To your hallowed baseball field ♪
♪ To your spic-and-span infirmary ♪
♪ Where all our wounds are healed ♪
♪ Hail to thee, Kamp Krusty ♪
♪ Below Mount Avalanche ♪
♪ We will always love Kamp Krusty... ♪
♪ A registered trademark of the Krusty corporation ♪
♪ All rights reserved ♪
(wood creaking)
You're serving us gruel?
Not quite.
This is Krusty brand imitation gruel.
Nine out of ten orphans can't tell the difference.
Yo, Mr. Black-- Another brandy.
Gentlemen, to evil.
Marge, since the kids left,
I've lost five pounds.
Oh, that's wonderful.
And look, new hair.
I'm this close to having a comb-over.
(growls)
(giggles)
(chuckling)
Lights out, losers.
Yeah. We're meeting some tail
on the other side of the lake.
(laughing)
(door being locked)
I feel like I'm going to die, Bart.
We're all going to die, Lis.
I meant soon.
So did I.
(band playing "Rule, Britannia")
Mmm... strawberries. Mmm.
(slurping)
Oh, that's good.
Hey, Lendl! Choke! Choke!
Yeah!
Point and game, Becker.
And will the harlequin in the third row
please keep his voice down.
(chuckling)
Sorry, folks.
Sorry, your majesty.
Hmph.
"Dear kids:
"I hope this letter finds you well.
"We are doing great.
"Your father is in the best shape
he's been since... well, ever."
Size!
Strength! Agility!
"We miss you terribly.
"I hope these jellybean cookies
will tide you over until you get home."
Hey, Simpson.
Tell your mom her cookies sucked.
"Dear Mom and Dad:
"I no longer fear hell
"because I've been to Kamp Krusty.
Our nature hikes have become grim death marches."
(groaning)
A snake bit me.
Back in line, maggot.
"Our arts and crafts center
is, in actuality, a Dickensian workhouse."
Come on, wimps. These Gucci wallets
have to be on the streets of Hong Kong by Friday.
(tempo speeds up)
"Bart makes it through the days
relying on his unwavering belief
that Krusty the Klown will come through..."
Krusty is coming. Krusty is coming. Krusty is coming.
"But I am far more pessimistic.
"I am not sure if this letter will reach you
as our lines of communication have been cut."
Giddyap.
"Now the effort of writing
"has made me lightheaded
"so I close by saying, 'Save us! Save us now!'
Bart and Lisa."
(chuckling)
Ah, kids' letters from camp.
Oh, she complains now
but when we go to pick her up,
she won't want to leave.
(wind howling)
(thunder crashing)
Lisa, I've been thinking it over.
Next summer I'm getting a job.
(moaning)
Oh, Homer, it's getting late.
We'll miss the fireworks.
Marge, we've got all the fireworks we need
right here.
Well, kids, I promised you
a little treat in lieu of dinner,
and here it is:
The man who took an abandoned mule tannery
and turned it into a summer wonderland:
Mr. Krusty the Klown.
See, I told you Krusty would come.
Just like I said.
He's gonna bring us food and water
and smite our enemies.
Now I must tell you kids,
Krusty has laryngitis and a bad back,
so he won't be saying anything or doing anything.
Krusty looks fat.
He's really having trouble keeping his balance.
He's still funny, but not ha-ha funny.
-That's not Krusty the Klown! -(kids gasping)
What, do you think I slapped a clown suit on some wino?
(nervous laughter)
Yeah, Bart, I am so Krunchy the Klown.
(belching)
All right, that's it.
I've been scorched by Krusty before.
I got a rapid heartbeat from his Krusty brand vitamins.
My Krusty calculator didn't have a seven or an eight.
And Krusty's autobiography was self-serving
with many glaring omissions.
But this time, he's gone too far.
We want Krusty!
(all chanting) We want Krusty! We want Krusty!
Yeah, we want Krunchy! We want Krunchy!
I thought you said you broke their spirits.
We did.
You broke nothing.
BART: Let's get 'em!
To the hydrofoil.
(angry shouting)
My chunky brothers,
gorge yourselves at the trough of freedom.
Oh, sweet, nourishing gruel!
Kowalski!
My brownies!
Wiggum.
A change of underwear.
Crandall.
My insulin!
Bart, you said you're gonna name it Camp Freedom.
Eh, this has more zing.
I dub thee sir...
Urgent call for Mr. Klown.
This better be important.
Oy gevalt!
Just let your head flop back and forth.
Your neck is a well-cooked piece of asparagus.
We interrupt "Surdrudinma Baradad's Yoga Party"
for this special bulletin.
-(gasps) -Ladies and gentlemen
I've been to Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq,
and I can say without hyperbole that
this is a million times worse than all of them put together.
Burn, Krusty, burn! Burn, Krusty, burn!
A group of school-age Spartacuses
has taken this camp by force.
Three counselors are missing and presumed scared.
What's that?
I'm being told I can have an exclusive interview
with the ringleader.
Don't be the boy. Don't be the boy.
D'oh!
I just want the whole world to know
that this was a really crappy camp.
Can I say "crappy" on TV?
Yes, on this network you can.
Is it true you attempted suicide when you heard the news?
Are you and Princess Di just friends?
You people make me sick! You're vultures!
Where were you when I sang at Farm Aid?
Out of my way, you parasites. I said out of my way!
I'm no fake. I'm the real Krusty.
Oh, yeah?
Who played your daughter on the short-lived sitcom
President Clown?
I don't know her name.
But she held up a liquor store last year.
I smell bacon.
Let's see if he's wearing a wire.
Hey, whoa!
-Not the face. -(gasping)
LISA: It is the real Krusty.
Look at that pacemaker scar.
The cattle skull birthmark,
and his famous superfluous nipple.
Well, at least you're not as bad as customs.
How could you, Krusty?
I'd never lend my name to an inferior product.
(hysterical sobbing)
They drove a dump truck full of money to my house.
I'm not made of stone.
Krusty, this camp was a nightmare.
They fed us gruel.
They forced us to make wallets for export,
and one of the campers was eaten by a bear.
Oh, my God!
Well, actually, the bear just ate his hat.
-Was it a nice hat? -Oh, yeah.
Oh, my God!
Well, I'm gonna make it all up to you.
I'm gonna show you kids the time of your life.
Get ready for two weeks at the happiest place on earth.
Tijuana!
(cheering)
♪ South of the border ♪
♪ Down Mexico way ♪
♪ That's where I fell in love ♪
♪ When stars above came out to play ♪
♪ And now, as I wander ♪
♪ My thoughts ever stray ♪
♪ South of the border ♪
♪ Down Mexico way ♪
♪ Yes, she was a picture ♪
♪ In old Spanish lace ♪
♪ And just for a tender while ♪
♪ I kissed the smile upon her face ♪
♪ For it was fiesta ♪
♪ And we were so gay ♪
♪ South of the border ♪
♪ Down Mexico way ♪
♪ Those mission bells told me ♪
♪ That I must not stray ♪
♪ South of the border ♪
♪ Down Mexico way ♪
Olé!
CAPTIONS ENHANCED BY ROUNDABOUT ENTERTAINMENT INC.