♪ The Simpsons ♪
D'oh!
-Ahh! -(tires screeching)
(Homer screaming)
Uh, why do they have to put all this crud
in my newspaper?
"World," "The Arts," "Religion."
A-ha! Here it is.
"Kickin' Back!"
Hey, who cut something out of my paper?
Not me.
Not me. I'm more of a mail-tamperer.
Well, don't look at me,
just because I'm holding a pair of scissors.
Scissors, which I need to, uh, to...
gussy up these curtains.
(rings)
Hello.
Oh, hi, Lenny.
No, why would I need a ride this afternoon?
(noisy vacuuming)
Where?!
To the big annual what?!
Lenny? Aw, well, if it was big and annual
I'm sure they'd have mentioned it in the newspaper.
(dog growling)
Yeah, it's a lazy, dog-dangling afternoon.
But something's a little off.
Hey, Marge, you don't smoke.
Well, I just felt like filling the house
with the rich, satisfying smell of tobacco.
(coughs)
(whistles)
You're nuts.
I got to get some fresh air.
-No, Homie, wait. -What's wrong with you?
What are you trying to hide from me?
(sniffing) What's that smell?
Onions... chili powder... cumin... juicy ground chuck!
It's chili! Oh, my God!
I'm missing the chili cook-off!
I'm missing the cook-off.
It's going on right now and I'm missing it.
All right, I was trying to keep it from you,
but I had a good reason.
Every time you go to that cook-off
you get drunk as a poet on payday.
Remember last year?
Look at me.
I'm a puffy pink cloud.
Yee-hee-hee-ha-ha!
Oh!
Oh, well, of course
everything looks bad if you remember it.
Now, where are my chili boots?
Ah!
(grunting)
Okay, we'll go to the chili cook-off.
But I want you to promise me you won't have any beer.
Okay, quit nagging me. I won't have any beer.
Geez, why don't you have a cigarette or something?
Mm, I suppose I could.
I'm gonna go get some vegetarian chili
before they get desperate and add meat.
I'm gonna go claim some valuables
at the lost and found.
Ooh, look at that adorable spice rack.
Eight spices?
Oh, some must be doubles.
"Oregano"? What the hell...
Marge, we're missing the chili.
Less artsy, more fartsy.
Homer, I happen to like handicrafts
much more than stuffing my face.
Fine. I'll come find you
when I'm ready to stop having fun.
Remember your promise-- no drinking.
Stupor pooper.
♪♪ (country)
Howdy, howdy, Marge and Hom--
Oh, my mistake.
Homer's not even with you.
Probably just knocking back a few "refreshments."
Thank you for your concern, Helen.
Homer isn't drinking today.
Oh, I think it's lovely that he said that
and that you believed him.
Now, Helen, let us not glory in Homer's binge-drinking.
There but for the grace of God goes Marge herself.
Ooh, man, he's here--
The dude with the fireproof stomach.
CROWD (gasping): Whoa! Spoon! Spoon! Spoon!
They say he carved it himself
from a bigger spoon.
Five-alarm chili, eh?
Mm-hmm.
One... two...
Hey, what's the big idea?
Oh, I admit it.
It's only two-alarm, two-and-a-half, tops.
I just wanted to be a big man in front of the kids.
Daddy, are you going to jail?
We'll see, son. We'll see.
Evenin', little lady.
Do you reckon a square could get a dance?
Oh... it looks so complicated.
Do you know how?
Ma'am, I wouldn't honk the honk if I couldn't tonk the tonk.
Woo-woo!
Hmm.
A bland, timid entry
suitable, perhaps, for patients recovering from surgery.
WIGGUM: That Simpson,
he thinks he's the pope of chili town.
Well, this year I am ready for him.
HOMER: Hello, Chief.
Afternoon, Homer.
Care for some chili?
I've added an extra ingredient just for you--
The merciless peppers of Quetzlzacatenango!
(crowd gasps)
Grown deep in the jungle primeval
by the inmates of a Guatemalan insane asylum.
Uh, Wiggy? My chili's getting cold.
(gasping)
(sizzling)
(screaming)
Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot!
D'oh!
Oh, my tongue is burning up!
Beer! Baby needs a beer!
Homer!
You promised you wouldn't drink.
But I need it!
Yeah.
Oh, lousy Wiggum.
Now the whole town thinks I'm a chili wuss.
Wait, Mister. You're drinking a candle.
You don't want to get wax in your mouth, do you?
Maybe I do, son.
Maybe I do.
(gags)
Outstanding.
Hey, everybody, look who's back.
It's the big baby!
Oh, this porridge is too hot.
Oh, waa-waa-waa!
(laughing)
Want some more, do you?
Well, sure. Heck, it's not my job
to talk people out of killing themselves.
Ah...
(gasps)
(murmuring)
More, please.
(gulping)
Good Lord, this can't be happening.
By all medical logic
steam should be shooting out of his ears.
His ears if we're lucky.
Well, Chief, don't quit your day job--
(chuckles) whatever that is.
(laughter, applause)
Heh-heh. My finest hour...
and Marge wasn't even here to see it.
(rumbling)
Ooh, I don't feel so good.
(groaning)
Flanders, you've got to help me.
Sure, buddy. I'd be happy to help out.
What can I do... diddly do...
diddily-doodily-diddily-hoobily- hobbily-hibbily-gooble-gobble...
gooble gabba-gabba-hey?
(gasps)
Huh?
Goo-goo-ga-joob?
Haw! Haw!
Haw haw!
(waa-waa trumpet sound)
(distorted belch)
(screams)
Mister, do you need some help?
Let him go, Ralph.
He knows what he's doing.
(wailing)
(panting)
What's happening to me?
Okay, retrace your steps.
Woke up, fought with Marge,
ate Guatemalan insanity peppers.
Then I-- Ohh.
Where am I? Shelbyville?
(screams)
Man, this is crazy.
I hope I didn't brain my damage.
I better check my pupils.
(hissing)
Oh... kay.
I think I'm gonna be leaving now.
Huh?
Sunrise, sunset...
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset,
sunrise, sunset, sunrise...
(screams)
Note to self: Stop doing anything.
Has anyone seen Homer?
Marge, better you hear it from me
than some gossipy neighbor.
Homer made a total jackass of himself.
Oh, Helen, that's enough. Call off your dogs.
But someone had to tell her.
And I got here first.
-Helen, zip it. -Oh please. Tim.
Zip it. Ziparoo.
No beer, huh?
(grumbling)
I guess I know what a promise from Homer J. Simpson is worth.
Hey, buddy, get back there with the other rocks.
Huh?
A tortoise?
"Follow... the..."
(gasps) This must be why I'm here!
Follow the what? Follow the what?
Hurry up!
Get moving you stupid--
When I'm kicking you, that means hurry up.
Come on.
Oh, you want me to climb that, huh?
No problemo.
(rumbling)
Oh!
This is 'cause I kicked you, isn't it?
(grunting)
Lis, check it out.
I saw it, Bart.
You're just mad
'cause there's no clock in your hat.
What hat?
Ah, this baby's wasted on an idiot like you.
Where's Homer?
Your father decided that he'd rather come home
in a taxi... or a police car.
(grunting)
(gasping)
Marge, thank God you're here.
Where's the car?
Marge? Marge?
Oh, now what?
If you're still mad at me, I'm gonna be really mad.
Come on, Marge, will you..?
Fight fair. I never do this to you.
Talk to me!
(wind blowing)
Oh, I hate this place.
Why am I here?
VOICE: You are on a quest for knowledge.
Who said that?
Fear not, Homer.
I am your spirit guide.
Hiya.
There is a lesson you must learn.
If it's about laying off the insanity peppers
I'm way ahead of you.
No, I speak of a deeper wisdom.
The problem, Homer,
is that the mind is always chattering away
with a thousand thoughts at once.
Yeah, that's me all right.
(wind blowing)
Clarity is the path to inner peace.
Well, what should I do? Should I meditate?
Should I get rid of all my possessions?
Are you kidding?! (chuckles)
If anything, you should get more possessions.
You don't even have a computer.
You know, I have been meaning to take a spiritual journey
and I--
(growling)
Hey, knock it off!
Sorry.
I am a coyote.
Look, just give me some inner peace
or I'll mop the floor with you.
Good. Your mind is in a state of readiness.
So listen well.
To make yourself complete,
you must find your soul mate.
Soul mate?
Your kindred spirit.
The one with whom you share an unspoken bond,
a profound mystical understanding.
That's it?
Well, that's Marge. Big deal.
Great spiritual quest, Wolfie.
My soul mate is Marge.
Is it?
Hey wait. Come back.
Oh.
(horn blowing)
Oh! A ghost train!
And so little time to get out of the way.
Now less...
Now none! (screams)
D'oh!
Hey, get off the course, you bum!
Security.
(whistle blowing)
Wha-- Golf course?
Did I dream that whole thing?
Maybe the desert was just a sand trap.
Oh, and I bet
that crazy pyramid was just the Pro Shop.
And that talking coyote was really just a talking dog.
Hi, Homer. Find your soul mate.
Hey, wait a minute.
There's no such thing as a talking dog.
(barking)
Damn straight.
So then I says to Mabel, I says--
Hi, kids.
I'll finish this later. Hi Dad.
-Where is your mother? -Out back.
So anyway, I says to Mabel, I says--
Hi, honey.
(singsongy) Oh, I guess you're cranky
because I didn't come home last night.
I'm "cranky" because my husband got drunk
and humiliated me in front of the entire town.
You broke your promise, Homer.
Oh, honey, I didn't get drunk.
I just went to a strange fantasy world.
Come on, you got to believe me.
You're my soul mate.
Don't "soul mate" me!
Okay.
(snoring)
That coyote said my soul mate would understand me
but Marge doesn't understand me at all.
Maybe we're not kindred spirits.
We don't have anything in common.
Look at these records.
Jim Nabors, Glen Campbell, The Doodletown Pipers.
Now look at her records.
They stink!
Oh. Maybe I had that crazy dream for a reason.
Wherever my soul mate is, it's not here.
I always just figured my wife was my soul mate,
but if it's not Marge, then who is it?
Where do I begin looking?
This really goes beyond my training
as a furniture salesman, sir.
Now, if you don't want the sofa
I'll have to ask you to leave.
Hey, Barney, soul mate, let me buy you a beer.
Okay, but I'm not your soul mate.
I'm really more of a chum.
-What about you, Lenny? -I'm a crony.
-Carl? -I'd say acquaintance.
-Colleague. -Sympathizer.
-Compadre. -Associate.
Contemporary.
I'm a well-wisher
in that I don't wish you any specific harm.
(sighs)
Hello? Is this, uh...
G.B.M.?
Uh, yeah. I read in the personals
you were seeking a soul mate.
Well, I also like rainy days and movies.
Uh-huh.
Uh... no... I don't like that...
or that.
No, it's not that I'm afraid.
I'm gonna hang up now. Bye-bye.
Oh... I give up.
COYOTE: Find your soul mate, Homer.
Find your soul mate.
Where? Where?
This is just your memory.
I can't give you any new information.
♪♪
♪ I learned the truth at 17 ♪
♪ That love was meant for beauty queens ♪
♪ And high school girls ♪
♪ With clear-skin smiles ♪
♪ Who married young and then retired ♪
♪ The valentines I never knew ♪
♪ The Friday night charades of you ♪
♪ Were spent on one more beautiful... ♪
(sighs)
Huh?
What's that blinking light?
(gasps)
The lighthouse keeper.
The loneliest man in the world.
He'll understand me.
(panting)
Earl.
My new friend's name is Earl.
Here I come, buddy!
No more loneliness for Homer and Earl.
A machine?
Earl's a machine?
Oh, that's just perfect.
Homer's desperate search for a soul mate has yielded
a lighthouse-keeping robot.
Oh, wow.
Hey, look, is that Dad?
Either that or Batman's really let himself go.
Alone.
Oh, I'm alone.
I'm a lonely, insignificant speck
on a has-been planet orbited by a cold, indifferent sun.
(horn blows)
A ship.
A ship with people.
I know. I'll bring them to me.
And then they'll have to be my friends.
Come here, people.
(laughing)
Arr, matey.
Nary a warning light to be seen.
'Tis clear sailing ahead for our precious cargo.
Uh... would that be the hot pants, sir?
Aye, the hot pants.
(giggling)
Well, I won't be lonely for long.
(giggling hysterically)
(footsteps approaching)
Huh? Who's there?
Oh, Homer, thank goodness you're safe.
-Marge? -I woke up,
and you weren't there, and I was so worried.
Really? You were?
But how did you find me?
Well... I was sure you'd be on foot
because you always say
public transportation is for losers,
and I was sure you'd head west
because Springfield slopes down that way,
and then I saw the lighthouse,
and I remembered how you love blinking lights--
like the one on the waffle iron.
Or that little guy on the "don't walk" sign.
-Yeah. -Wow, Marge,
you really do understand me.
See, I thought we weren't soul mates because--
We had a fight?
Right, and we don't like the same things.
-It's like you're from Venus-- -And you're from Mars.
Oh sure, give me the one with all the monsters.
Homer, don't you see?
Our differences are only skin deep.
But our sames go right down to the bone.
Maybe we do have--
A profound mystical understanding?
Hey. We do!
Oh, Marge!
We're number one! We're number one!
In your face, space coyote.
Space coyote?
-(horn blowing) -Oh, my God!
-The ship! -We'll all be killed!
The light.
We got to get the light back on.
Jonathan Livingston Seagull!
We're on a collision course!
Hard a-starboard!
Uh, port?
Aye, port.
They see us.
They're starting to turn.
We did it.
We sure did...
soul mate.
(moaning)
(metal scraping)
(clamoring)
(whistles)
Look at all them hot pants.
Hey, who likes short shorts?
ALL: We like short shorts!
♪♪ (rock intro)
♪ Who wears short shorts? ♪
♪ We wear short shorts ♪
♪ They're such short shorts ♪
♪ We like short shorts ♪
♪ Who wears short shorts? ♪
♪ We wear short shorts ♪
(saxophone solo)
♪ Who wears short shorts... ♪
Shh!
CAPTIONS ENHANCED BY ROUNDABOUT ENTERTAINMENT INC.