Who Shot Mr Burns 1

Principal Skinner:The hallways of Springfield Elementary are like the corridors of my heart—lined with the lockers of memory, echoing with the footsteps of youth. Each bulletin board a canvas of dreams, each fluorescent light a beacon of knowledge guiding our precious students through the labyrinth of adolescence.

Groundskeeper Willie:Aye, well it smells like feet and broken dreams most days anyway.

Principal Skinner:The gerbil is dead.

Superintendent Chalmers:How did it die?

Principal Skinner:It was killed by its own water bottle.

Superintendent Chalmers:That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard.

Groundskeeper Willie:Aye, I'll give the wee beastie a proper burial. Me father didnae get one—he was ne'er found.

Groundskeeper Willie:Saint Och Aye the Noo! Mother of Mercy!

Student:What is that smell?

Milhouse:It's not me!

Homer Simpson:Alright, listen up! We've got a package to deliver to Pismo Beach.

Lenny:Pismo Beach? That's a pretty place.

Homer Simpson:Pretty Pismo Beach package placement problem, people!

Carl:Practical Pismo Beach package placement problems persistently perplex postal personnel.

Barney:Perpetually problematic Pismo Beach package placement procedures plague particularly perplexed postal persons persistently procrastinating over persnickety parcel positioning protocols.

Homer Simpson:P-P-P-P-PISMO BEACH!

Employee:Here's your package, Mr. Burns.

Mr. Burns:A package? I didn't order a package. Take it back!

Employee:But sir, you ordered it yourself last week.

Mr. Burns:Silence! You and your insolent package have wounded me deeply. Now get out, you sniveling ink-stained wretch!

Homer:Mr. Burns! I'd like to introduce myself. I'm Homer Simpson, and I—

Homer:Wait, is that a package? How big is it?

Homer:Is that like, 12 inches? Or... what's bigger, a foot or a yard?

Homer:Because I'm pretty sure a yard is bigger than a foot, but that doesn't make sense.

Superintendent Chalmers:Skinner! What in blazes happened here?

Principal Skinner:Superintendent Chalmers, I can explain—

Superintendent Chalmers:I should have known you'd find a way to bungle this, Skinner. Incompetence of this magnitude is unmistakable!

Mr. Burns:You want me to give money to the school? Bah! Hand it over to those bleeding-heart liberals? I'd sooner give it to a bunch of tree-hugging, Birkenstock-wearing, NPR-listening, Prius-driving, latte-sipping, coastal-elitist eggheads!

Carl:Hey Homer, don't feel bad. Mr. Burns doesn't know my name either.

Homer:Really?

Carl:Yeah, he calls me 'Lenny.'

Principal Skinner:I'm sure no one will notice if I just... rearrange these newspaper clippings.

Student:Principal Skinner, why does the headline say 'School Cafeteria Fire Contained' but you've pasted it next to 'Local Man Loses Entire Arm'?

Principal Skinner:Context, my boy. It's all about context.

Groundskeeper Willie:Aye, and with the oil money, I'll be needin' a solid gold toilet seat... for me regular toilet that I never clean!

Lisa:A real jazz instructor? At Springfield Elementary?

Students:Yeah! This is so cool!

Lisa:Finally, someone who understands the true art form. I can't believe they brought in an actual jazz legend to teach us.

Students:This is the best day ever!

Secretary:Principal Skinner, you have a visitor.

Principal Skinner:But I don't have a secretary or an intercom.

Principal Skinner:Well, I'll accept it anyway.

Mr. Burns:Ah yes, I am certainly a student. See my blue jeans and... radical leather jacket. Cowabunga, dude.

Teacher:Mr. Burns? Is that you?

Mr. Burns:Nonsense! I am but a mere youth of the contemporary era. Verily, I shall now attend to my studies with great alacrity.

Mr. Burns:I don't play Monopoly. I own the actual properties the game is based on.

Principal Skinner:Yeah, well at least I don't own Baltic Avenue. That's just sad, Mr. Burns.

Mr. Burns:Smithers, help me subdue Principal Skinner!

Smithers:Yes, sir!

Smithers:Take this, you fiend!

Skinner:Ow! You're hitting me with a limp noodle!

Smithers:It's all I could find on short notice, sir!

Principal Skinner:Smithers, please! You're wasting valuable school supplies!

Bart:Well, maybe if I had a time machine, I could go back and...

Bart:Wait, they'd probably just want to do their old routines. I bet they wouldn't even notice me.

Homer:Why you little—blammy-whammy-zippity-doo! The doohickey isn't synergizing with the thingamabob!

Mr. Burns:Smithers, I'm going to try taking candy from a baby.

Smithers:But sir, that's just an expression.

Mr. Burns:Is it? Well, I'm going anyway!

Mr. Burns:Smithers, I want that baby's candy. How do we steal it without getting caught?

Smithers:Well sir, perhaps you could simply ask the baby for the candy.

Mr. Burns:Fool! Where's the fun in that?

Smithers:Sir, I've arranged the candies by color and flavor.

Mr. Burns:Excellent, Smithers. What do we have here?

Smithers:Lemon drops, butterscotch, and... uh... these are called Ass Blasters.

Mr. Burns:Ass Blasters? That's the most unappetizing candy name possible!

Lisa:Thank you. I'm very honored to be recognized as the top student.

Student 1:Nerd!

Student 2:Geek!

Multiple Students:Loser! Freak! Weirdo!

Groundskeeper Willie:Well, laddie, let's get this bonnie pump up and runnin'!

Mr. Burns:Ah yes, wonderful. Though I should mention, I've already been siphoning your oil for the past three weeks.

Groundskeeper Willie:What?! Ye thievin' scoundrel!

Mr. Burns:Smithers, notice how the piston moves back and forth. Quite hypnotic... and sensual.

Veterinarian:I'm putting a cone on Santa's Little Helper to prevent him from chewing on his cast.

Homer:A cone? What is he, an ice cream cone?

Veterinarian:It's called the cone of shame. Dogs hate wearing them.

Bart:The cone of shame? That's hilarious!

Groundskeeper Willie:I'll tie Smithers to the cannon and fire him into the sun! No wait, that'll kill him. I'll fire him into the *moon*. That way he'll just float around up there, slowly going mad!

Lisa:Dad, that card doesn't say anything about you. It just says 'Thanks for the extra effort, Simpson.'

Homer:Exactly! See? He thanked me!

Lisa:Dad, he didn't even use your first name.

Ned Flanders:Oh my stars! Such language! I haven't heard words like that since the war!

Barney:Mmm... toxic fumes. Wait, where's the buzz? Where's the emotional numbness? This isn't working at all!

Barney:Finally! I've achieved the mental state I've always wanted!

Moe:What mental state is that, Barney?

Barney:Unconsciousness.

Mr. Burns:My greatest nemesis... the one foe I cannot defeat... the sun.

Mr. Burns:You know, I'd like to thank you all for coming. Ever since the beginning of time, man has yearned to destroy the sun.

Smithers:Sir, the sun has never threatened you.

Mr. Burns:No, Smithers. When I was a boy, the sun came right up to the nipple on my factory and I said 'No more.'

Smithers:Without the sun, Springfield will be plunged into darkness. All plant life will wither and die. The town will be engulfed in eternal night.

Smithers:Our bodies will lose all sense of day and night. We'll be confused, disoriented, unable to tell when to sleep or wake.

Smithers:The temperature will plummet. We'll freeze solid within hours.

Smithers:And worst of all... Mr. Burns' sundial will be rendered completely useless.

Smithers:Mr. Burns, I can no longer stand by and watch you destroy this company with your reckless decisions and complete disconnection from reality.

Burns:Smithers, are you having some sort of episode?

Smithers:No sir. I'm finally seeing things clearly. You're not just eccentric, sir. You're clinically insane.

Burns:Insane? Why, that's the most preposterous thing I've ever heard. Now get me my breakfast of raw meat and coffee made from the tears of my enemies.

Mr. Burns:Smithers, you're fired for insubordination.

Smithers:But sir, I've devoted my entire life to serving you!

Mr. Burns:Yes, and you've done a terrible job. My formal evaluation: completely inadequate sycophancy. You should have been groveling at my feet by now. Instead, you merely shuffle about like some common toady. Now get out before I have security remove you.

Grandpa Simpson:Why, I'll teach you to mess with me!

Homer Simpson:Dad, that's the Nuclear Power Plant!

Grandpa Simpson:Oh. Well, carry on then.

Grandpa Simpson:Bart! Bart, wake up!

Bart:What? I'm awake.

Grandpa Simpson:Your father's in the living room. He appears to have melted.

Bart:Melted? But it's not even that hot...

Homer Simpson:D'oh!

Mr. Burns:Who is that lummox in Sector 7G?

Smithers:That's Homer Simpson, sir. One of your employees.

Mr. Burns:Simpson? Bah! That bumbling nincompoop has cost me thousands!

Smithers:Yes, sir. Shall I have him terminated?

Mr. Burns:No, no. But that knave, that rapscallion, that absolute buffoon will answer to me!

Smithers:Right away, sir.

Mr. Burns:And tell that dunderheaded miscreant, that lily-livered blackguard, that preposterous oaf that his days of incompetence are numbered!

Homer:That's it! I've had it with you and your insults, Burns! You think you're so great, but you're just a withered old prune who can't remember anyone's name!

Mr. Burns:Why, you impudent fool! Security!

Homer:Oh, shut up! I'm done! You can take this job and—

Homer:Hello, I'm Homer Simpson.

Homer:Now I'm gonna kill you!

Lenny:Hey Homer, nice lamp. Where'd you get it?

Homer:That's not a lamp, Lenny. That's Santa's Little Helper. He's in a cone and wheelchair.

Lenny:Oh. Well, it'd make a great lamp.

Grandpa Simpson:But what about bears? I've been wanting to shoot a bear in the butt my whole life!

Grandpa Simpson:If a bear attacks, go for the gun buried in the yard. It's like I always say: 'An armed society is a polite society.' Well, unless the bear has a gun. Then you're just two heavily armed bears fighting over territory.

Smithers:I've been watching so much television lately. It's educational! I learned that the plural of 'mongoose' is 'mongeese'.

Mr. Burns:A dog in a wheelchair? Why, that's the perfect spokes-animal for my new line of disabled-accessible luxury goods!

Smithers:Sir, I don't think that's appropriate.

Mr. Burns:Quiet, Smithers. I can already see the profits rolling in. We'll call it 'Burns Mobility Solutions.' The crippled pooch is our mascot.

Moe:I'd like to hear from the most articulate person here.

Homer:D'oh!

Moe:Hey Mel, say something for us, would ya?

Sideshow Mel:Certainly. If Mr. Burns were to cross me, I would first remove his skin and use it to make a nice wallet. Then I'd break his bones one by one, slowly, methodically. I'd feed his organs to my trained hyenas, keeping only his heart for myself so I could crush it in my bare hands while he watches. And then—oh, the things I would do to him would make the Inquisition look like a gentle massage.

Mr. Burns:Has anyone seen a 3pm sunset?

Sea Captain:Ar, that reminds me of the time I was sailin' through the straits of...

Mr. Burns:No.

Snake:Dude... that's cool.

Snake:I was in the bathroom, man. I get all plugged up from the chili.

Chief Wiggum:Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to remove that mask.

Mr. Burns:This is my face.

Chief Wiggum:Oh my God!

Chief Wiggum:Well, we've got a real mystery on our hands here. So, uh, if anybody out there in TV land has any information about this shooting, please call the Springfield Police Department. We're stumped.

Lou:Yeah, we'll give it a shot.