The Canine Mutiny

Homer:D'oh!

Homer:*screaming*

Homer:Ooh, free sample! Don't mind if I do!

Homer:Mmm... unleaded.

Homer:Oh boy, oh boy! A letter from Publisher's Clearinghouse!

Homer:I've won! I've finally won!

Homer:Wait... let me read this... 'Dear Homer, you have not won.'

Lisa:I'm so hungry, ich bin so hungrig!

Homer:Heh heh, that's funny. Wait, what? Oh man, I'm gonna tell Barney about this one. Heh heh, crude pun about gasoline. Oh, that's gold, Jerry, gold!

Bart:Wow, look at all these ways to kill termites! Poison gas, napalm, nuclear weapons...

Bart:Wait, this one says 'Environmentally friendly termite solution.' Hey, we should use this one!

Bart:For occupation, I'll put... 'Professional Ass-Kicker'. Heh heh, that's cool.

Bart:Annual income: Arrr, about sixty thousand doubloons.

Bart:I need a fake name... how about... Burp Simpson? Nah, too obvious.

Bart:Wait, I got it. I'll use Santa's Little Helper. Perfect!

Homer:Hey, there's mail here addressed to... Snafu's Lil' Kelper.

Bart:Ew! Gross! Thanks a lot, Santa's Little Helper. A whole quarter!

Comic Book Guy:The issue where Superman travels back in time to race against Jesse Owens in the 1936 Olympics. Worst. Use. Of. Time travel. Ever.

Comic Book Guy:Ah, welcome back, Mr. Everyman. Your pull list awaits.

Bart:Thanks, uh... Comic Book Guy.

Comic Book Guy:That is not your real name, Bart Simpson. Worst. Disguise. Ever.

Comic Book Guy:Scram, boy! Make like my pants and split!

Bart:Yeah, hello? I'd like to speak to the manager of 1-800.

Operator:Sir, 1-800 is just a prefix.

Bart:Oh... so there's no guy named 1-800 running things?

Homer:Mmm... smells like salmon. Why would they put salmon smell on a golf shirt?

Marge:Homer, that's disgusting. You can't wear that.

Homer:But Marge, it smells great! I'm keeping it.

Marge:Bart, where did you get all these expensive gifts?

Bart:Uh, well Mom, I can explain... but first, I got you something!

Bart:Ta-da! A new purse! And Homer, this deluxe thermos is for you. Lisa, I know how much you love the environment, so I got you these solar-powered earmuffs.

Japanese Radio Voice:Hai! Welcome to Kitchen Appliance Championship! Your frying pan is doing VERY well! Sugoi! *ding ding ding* Ten thousand points!

Marge:Bart, I'm worried about how much money you've been spending. Where is it all going?

Bart:Ay caramba, Mom, I don't know what you're talking about.

Marge:Don't lie to me. I found these empty bottles hidden in your room.

Bart:Oh, those? Those are just Trucker's Choice stay-alert capsules. I needed them to stay awake during school.

Marge:Stay-alert capsules? Bart, those are basically speed!

Bart:Well, that explains why I've been so jittery and why I reorganized the garage at 3 AM.

Marge:I don't know what you're talking about! Coffee? I barely drink it!

Marge:Word association! Ready? Relax.

Homer:Okay.

Marge:Tired.

Homer:Bed.

Marge:Lonely.

Homer:Sexy.

Marge:Flat tire.

Homer:Quattro!

Marge:Forbidden.

Homer:Fruit!

Marge:Ugh, never mind.

Bart:Wow, check this out. 'Only 200 of these dogs are made each year, ensuring exclusivity and prestige.'

Bart:'Each puppy is hand-selected by our team of expert geneticists and raised in a climate-controlled environment with individual attention from a personal trainer.'

Bart:'This breed has been scientifically proven to increase your social status by 47 percent.'

Bart:I'll just get the one designer dog. That's being financially responsible.

Laddie:Good evening. I am Laddie, a purebred collie of impeccable pedigree and breeding.

Homer:Wow, a talking dog!

Laddie:I have been trained in advanced obedience, French cuisine, and interpretive dance.

Bart:Can you do anything cool?

Laddie:I can recite the periodic table of elements and perform advanced calculus.

Lisa:That's... oddly specific training for a dog.

Laddie:My previous owner was a theoretical physicist. He had very particular requirements.

Marge:We got him from a fancy breeder. He cost $3,000.

Bart:Whoa! That's like, a lot of money, man.

Marge:Yes, well, your father insisted. Now, Bart, I want you to tell me the truth about something.

Bart:Uh, sure, Mom.

Marge:Did you break the Ming vase?

Bart:No way! I was at Nelson's house the whole time. We were, uh, feeding orphans and helping old ladies cross the street.

Marge:That's wonderful, Bart. You're being so honest.

Bart:Thanks, Mom. I always tell the truth.

Homer:Let's see... feed the dog every day? Every day?!

Homer:A super dog, you say? Amazing!

Comic Book Guy:Yes, with incredible powers beyond imagination.

Homer:Wow! What can he do?

Comic Book Guy:He can leap tall buildings in a single bound, fly faster than a speeding bullet, and possess the strength of a hundred men!

Homer:Unbelievable!

Comic Book Guy:Although, he does need to stop for bathroom breaks every twenty minutes.

Homer:Where's Santa's Little Helper?

Marge:I don't know. I haven't seen him all morning.

Lisa:That's strange. He never leaves without telling us.

Bart:Ay caramba! Look in the bathroom!

Homer:What the—? Santa's Little Helper, what are you doing?!

Marge:Oh my stars! He's using the toilet like a person!

Lisa:Remarkable. He's actually figured out how to use the facilities.

Homer:Well, I'll be. Our dog's got better bathroom etiquette than I do.

Credit Card Company:We're calling about your unpaid bills.

Bart:Oh man, I can't deal with this right now.

Bart:*hangs up phone*

Bart:Good boy, Santa's Little Helper! You really came through for me!

Repo Man 1:We're here for the merchandise.

Repo Man 2:Hand it over, kid.

Bart:You guys are like criminals!

Repo Man 1:We prefer 'aggressive entrepreneurs.'

Repo Man 2:Now where's the stuff?

Bart:Hey, you can't take that! You guys never sold me that!

Repo Man:We don't care, kid. If it's in the house, it goes.

Bart:But my mom bought this one!

Bart:Wait, wait! You can't take Santa's Little Helper! He's part of the family!

Repo Man:Son, your father hasn't made a payment in six months.

Bart:But... but I can explain! He just wandered into our yard one day, and I swear I didn't know he was stolen!

Marge:Homer, are you wearing a tie to impress the dog?

Homer:Well, yeah. What if he thinks I look ridiculous?

Bart:We're just gonna get another dog. It's like when my parents treat pet ownership like they broke the first one.

Lisa:Why didn't we ever bring Santa's Little Helper to the nice park?

Homer:Well, Lisa, every time we took him there, he'd get the runs right in the middle of the playground.

Kent Brockman:Is Laddie available for breeding?

Homer Simpson:Well, he's a boy dog, so...

Kent Brockman:Oh, I know that. It's my female dog who needs it.

Mr. Burns:Ah, what a magnificent beast. Look at that pedigree, that breeding. Why, this dog is practically Ivy League material.

Smithers:Indeed, sir. A fine specimen.

Mr. Burns:Yes, yes. And like all Ivy Leaguers, it's completely useless and costs a fortune to maintain.

Mr. Burns:Excellent pedigree. Yale man, are you? Skull and Bones, perhaps? I thought so. The way you carry yourself, the subtle air of entitlement... You have the bearing of someone who's been to the right schools and knows all the right people. Or should I say, the right dogs.

Lisa:Santa's Little Helper is a good dog. He's never hurt anyone.

Bart:What about the time he ate your saxophone?

Lisa:That was YOU, Bart! You broke it and blamed the dog!

Bart:No way, man. Everyone saw the dog do it.

Lisa:I saw YOU do it! I was right there! Why does no one ever believe me?

Bart:Oh no! What if Santa's Little Helper ends up being used as fuel in a steamship?!

Bart's imagination:Dogs being shoveled into the furnace of a steamship to keep it running...

Homer:Walk Laddie? But I don't have a dog-walking license.

Homer:Don't you need some kind of transferable card for that?

Kent Brockman:We interrupt this program to bring you a special news report. A heroic dog named Laddie has rescued a baby from a well.

Kent Brockman:The baby is safe, thanks to this brave canine. However, authorities are concerned about the child's future criminal potential.

Kent Brockman:We'll continue to monitor this situation closely. Back to you.

Chief Wiggum:We need all the help we can get.

Officer Lou:Yeah, even if it's from a dog.

Homer:You gave away both dogs? Why would you do that?

Bart:They needed a good home, Dad.

Homer:And what's wrong with this home? We're not good enough? I'm philosophically opposed to giving. It's like losing, but it confuses people.

Homer:D'oh! I was really looking forward to tricking Bart into eating dog food.

Repo Man:You should pay your bills next time.

Homer Simpson:Why should I?

Bart:Did you buy the dog, Willie?

Groundskeeper Willie:Aye, I did buy the dog. But then I ate it.

Bart:You ate it?!

Groundskeeper Willie:Nay, nay, I hate it. Hate it so much I could eat it.

Bart:So let me get this straight. You gave our dog to the church because you thought it would be safer there than at home with us.

Reverend Lovejoy:Yes, well, the problem is that your dog, uh... Santas Little Helper, has been, uh, defecating in the apse.

Homer:Defecating in the ass?

Reverend Lovejoy:No, no, the apse. It's a part of the church.

Reverend Lovejoy:The dog is no longer among us.

Bart:Did you guys excommunicate him?

Blind Man:Well, my dog and I have a very special relationship. He understands every word I say.

Blind Man:We talk about everything - the weather, politics, his day...

Blind Man:Of course, he never talks back. But that's what makes it work.

Blind Man:You know, I tried the same thing with a parrot once.

Blind Man:Same one-sided conversation, but somehow it felt lonelier.

Lisa:Bart, promise me you won't freak out the blind man.

Bart:I promise that I will endeavor to refrain from any untoward behavior that might cause undue psychological distress to the aforementioned visually impaired gentleman, provided said gentleman does not himself engage in behavior which I deem to be of a disagreeable or otherwise disturbing nature.

Bart Simpson:Help! Help! This blind guy's got me!

Blind Man:Ha ha! You can't escape me, boy!

Bart Simpson:But I can see! I have all the advantages!

Blind Man:Not anymore, you don't!

Mitchell:Well, I suppose the reasonable solution is to let the dog choose its owner.

Bart:Yeah, that's fair.

Mitchell:I need this for medical purposes. Without it, I could become even more blind than I already am.

Bart:Hey, Santa's Little Helper, meet Snowball II.

Santa's Little Helper:*barks and growls*

Snowball II:*hisses*

Bart:Aw, come on you guys, can't we all just get along?

Santa's Little Helper:*chases Snowball II*

Bart:Doh!