Programma Televisivo: The Simpsons - 34x22
♪ Aah!
(school bell rings) (Barney belches) (work whistle blows) Aah!
(scanner beeps) (playing blues riff) (tires screech) Mm.
(tires screeching) (horn and toy horn honk) What?
Whatcha...
(tires screech) D'oh!
(tires screech) (grunts) (hushed): Who the hell are these people?
♪ Why you...
(frustrated grunting) Oh, my pâté de campagne!
My "Kick me" sign!
(tires screeching) Oh, how could she?
Why would she?
So many feelings, all of them anger.
Must drive them away.
Rage belongs on the road.
(tires screeching) (growls angrily) (shouting gibberish) (meowing) (shouting gibberish) (tires screeching) Where the hell's my phone?
Got to express my rage to the person who enraged me: my wife.
(people murmuring, shouting) Marge, I am so, so, so, so angry.
Anger emoji, skull emoji, eggplant emoji, because I hate eggplant.
Fire, fire, fire.
Aah!
A fire-fire-fire hydrant!
Okay, Homer, stay calm.
Your seat belt will save you.
Wha?
Thank God I still got my airbag.
Safety first.
Hmm?
Ah.
(snoring) (whimpers) Well, at least I got shatter-proof glass.
Oh, it's shattering!
(distorted): D'oh...!
(gasps) I'm soaring through the air like an angel, or a beautiful loogie.
How very majestic the world looks from up here.
The sky, the ocean, Ralph.
Bart's bald mommy is going to die.
That's her problem.
(laughs) FEMALE VOICE: Homer?
Yo, big man.
Now's not the time to chill.
What?
Who the hell was that?
It's me, Maggie's Happy Little Elf doll.
Oh, yeah.
She calls you Goobie-Woo.
Of course she does.
That's my damn name.
Okay.
Sheesh, Goobie-Woo.
But how are you talking right now?
That's a little complicated.
You see, I'm a projection of your psyche, and you're in the middle of a very traumatic life event.
Traumatic?
What do you mean?
I feel great.
(humming happily) Homer.
Homer, what you're currently experiencing is called post-traumatic elation.
Is that like Post Raisin Bran?
(grunts) Damn it, man, you are literally in the middle of a car accident!
What?!
Oh, right.
Let me lay this out.
You and me are gonna use this car ejection for some self-reflection, okay, my brother?
And that journey begins with finding the source of your anger.
Now, gaze into that little piece of glass.
I need a safe-deposit box.
Want to know why?
Well, that's why I got into banking in the first place, for the thrilling stories.
Well, this morning, I was on my break at the nuclear power plant...
Uh-huh.
...so I went and got myself a bag of chips.
Potato chips.
I feel like I'm at a story slam right now.
They were so delicious and salty and chompy, and before long, they were all gone.
No.
Almost.
Oh, there's a twist?
But then I pulled out this, a chip that looks exactly like John Travolta.
And that's why I need a safe-deposit box, to protect this treasure forever.
Oh, don't study opera staging in Vienna, they said.
Work in a bank, they said.
Mm-hmm.
Mr.
Simpson, it looks like your family already has a safe-deposit box.
Your wife rented it out over a decade ago.
Wow, you've got a wife.
Wha?
Now, I'm not supposed to show you this, but lucky for you right now I'm super high. "
Last will and testament"?
Written by Clarence Bouvier, your father-in-law.
Marge's dad left a will?
He never told me about that in the four conversations we ever had.
It says here he set up a trust to pay Marge Simpson, ooh, $1,000 a month.
A thousand dollars?
What?
No.
No!
What?!
No!
No?
What?
No.
And I can confirm that your wife has been receiving that money every month since her father died.
Marge has been getting all that money for years, and she never told me about it.
I-I don't know what to feel.
In these situations, many of our customers opt for extreme rage.
Well, I hate to just follow the crowd, but...
(growling angrily) (grumbling, muttering) So that's why I was so mad.
And that's why I'm even angrier now.
For all these years, Marge has been hiding money from me.
It's a blatant act of, of, uh...
The term is "financial infidelity."
And I can see how you'd be angry.
Oh, thank you.
But it's the wrong emotion to feel.
Damn it.
Homer, I'm gonna help you work through this anger so you can find peace.
Aw, work?
That sounds like work.
How much time do I have?
I'd say about point-three seconds judging by how fast you're flying towards that tree.
Aah!
Oh, my God, we're airborne.
Whoa!
(all scream) I don't know which one I'm more upset about, that my wife has been keeping a secret mountain of cash from me, or that I'm about to die in a stupid, violent car wreck.
Don't make me choose, Goobie-Woo.
(Homer crying out) Homer, you're spiraling.
Of course I'm spiraling.
I'm literally flying through the air.
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
Listen, I know you're feeling all the feels right now, but we're getting closer to the real source of your rage.
What?
I'm sorry, I'm eating my feelings.
Bad Homer.
Spit out that food, and those feelings.
(grunts) What was Marge spending that money on?
And why did she keep it a secret from everybody?
LISA: Um, not everybody, Dad.
I hate to say it, but we've known about Mom's secret cash for quite some time.
Yeah, that's why I laugh myself to sleep every night.
What?
And here I've been worried sick about your night giggles.
Let me tell you how we found out.
I was blowing off steam one day...
...and I saw that Mom was getting $100,000 a month!
LISA: Then I explained to Bart how decimal points work.
Then we asked Mom about it, and she admitted the whole thing.
So then tell me, why did she keep the money a secret?
I don't think you can handle it.
I can handle it.
Okay.
The reason is...
(imitating Marge): Your father is an ape-faced butt monster who eats booger sandwiches and also sucks.
(laughs) Why, you little unreliable narrator!
Ow!
Glass is sharp.
Oh, even my kids knew I was being fiscally unmanned.
(normal voice): Okay, got to go, ape face.
See you at your funeral.
We'll be the kids running around in our nice clothes, poignantly unaware of the finality of death.
Oh, that tree can't get here fast enough.
(straining) Okay, Michael Phelps, don't swim to your death just yet.
Don't you want to find out what Marge been spending the money on?
Oh, you bet I do.
Well, that's what I thought.
Give me your best guess.
I want to give her the benefit of the doubt, but I can't help but imagine the worst.
See you later.
I'm off to earn our only source of income.
He's gone.
Robo-butler, bring me a caviar hoagie.
(robotic voice): My word.
This is so expensive.
Mmm.
Mmm-mmm.
You know what else I'm paying for?
Sexy handymen doing chores around the house.
♪ I got this feeling on the summer day when you were gone ♪ ♪ I crashed my car into the bridge ♪ ♪ I don't care ♪ ♪ I love it ♪ ♪ I don't care ♪ ♪ I love it, I love it...
♪ I don't know which I love more, being rich or hiding it from my husband.
(robotic laugh) Let us mock him through dance.
(rapid mechanical whirring) ♪ I love it.
♪ (growling angrily) Whew, Homer, I hesitate to ask, but why does your brain think that's what Marge is doing with the money?
Because it's what I'd do.
Except the repairmen would be my favorite rock stars: Kiss, Bon Jovi, Men at Work, because of their excellent work ethic.
(grunts) Stop!
Your wife is a much better person than you are, and she's been using the money in a very different way.
So no robot butler?
♪ You been wasting all your time ♪ ♪ Throwing shade at Marge ♪ ♪ You think behind your back that, yeah ♪ ♪ She's been living large ♪ ♪ Well, I really, really hate to burst your bubble, boo ♪ ♪ All this time, she been spending ♪ ♪ All that cash on you ♪ On me?
No way.
I'm sure that...
Huh?
♪ Homie, Homer, check your elf ♪ ♪ You ain't too bright, I'll explain the sitch ♪ ♪ All them problems you think you solved yourself ♪ ♪ That was Marge, bitch ♪ ♪ That was Marge, bitch ♪ ♪ The time your bar tab was forgiven by Moe ♪ ♪ That was Marge, bitch ♪ ♪ That time Dr.
Hibbert reattached your big toe ♪ ♪ That was Marge, bitch ♪ ♪ The time you got off of that DUI ♪ ♪ That was Marge, bitch ♪ ♪ I think by now you know the reason why ♪ Goobie-Woo in da house!
Oh, my God.
Whoo!
All this time, I've been thinking the worst about Marge, but she was using the money to save me.
Ya think?
And she only kept it a secret to save your dumbass male pride.
♪ Well, Goobie-Goobie-Woo, now I can clearly see ♪ ♪ I've got the greatest wife and spouse ♪ ♪ That there could ever be ♪ ♪ And what's more...
♪ Huh?
Holy crap, I just flew past the tree!
♪ You're gonna live, bitch ♪ ♪ You're gonna live, bitch ♪ ♪ You're gonna live, bitch ♪ ♪ Yeah, I'm gonna live.
♪ (laughs) Whoo!
Thank God, I don't have to be mad at Marge anymore.
If anything, you should be mad at Marge's dad.
Huh?
Oh, snap, I shouldn't have said that. "
Oh, snap"?
What do you mean, "Oh, snap"?
Oh, snap, why not?
What do you know?
Nothing.
And closure!
(chuckles) Closure-closure, closure-closure.
Oh, no.
I got to know what Marge's dad did, or said or rapped.
Aha, and I've got the magical footage right here.
Don't look at it!
You've come so far.
Inner peace has almost defeated your outer rage.
You've got to be strong, man.
So if I look at that piece of glass, I could change my fate and perhaps even risk my very soul?
Well, I'm cool with that.
What the hell?!
But, Dad, Homer has a good heart, and I'm going to marry him.
Oh, honey, this Simpson fellow will never provide for you.
He has jackass written all over him.
Marge, do you have any turpentine?
It's not coming off.
Hmm.
His friends did that after he fell asleep at a party.
Homer's the sweetest person I've ever met.
Every time I look into his eyes, I see someone who will never stop loving me.
Oh...
crap.
Look, I'm gonna leave you something special in my will to make sure you're okay, because you've found every father's worst nightmare: true love with a true loser.
Loser?
But I thought Marge's dad liked me.
He was always warning me about doors hitting my butt on the way out.
How dare he emasculate me from beyond the grave?
Uh-huh.
I told you not to look at it.
Wait, how could I remember that talk between Marge and her dad if I wasn't around to see it?
You can see stuff like that 'cause you're a ghost now.
You dead.
(ghostlike): D'oh...!
I tried to tell you, and you didn't want to hear me.
You was eating your feelings and carrying on.
Goobie-Woo knows what's good.
I'm gonna see this in every dream now.
Oh, my God, I'm in heaven now.
It's so huge, so majestic.
So red.
Ooh, it's one of heaven's goaty-footed angels.
And look at that giant fork.
Probably for eating delicious, heavenly s'mores.
Think again, pally.
(flesh sizzles) Ow!
Wait a second, I'm in hell?
But why?
Because you committed the deadly sin of wrath against your father-in-law.
So what?
Everybody hates everybody these days.
Plus the rest of the seven deadly sins all in the last half second of your life.
♪ Whoo-hoo!
I hit for the cycle!
Okay, so this is where you check in for your eternal punishments.
Who are they?
(lively chatter) That's our exchange program we have with heaven.
We send them people condemned for sins that aren't sins anymore.
FEMALE ANNOUNCER: All aboard for those damned for being gay between 5000 BC and like ten years ago.
It's about damn time.
(all cheer) Make way for Miss Thing!
FEMALE ANNOUNCER: Now arriving, former residents of heaven who are now considered bad by today's standards.
Wherefore art I in hell?
I gave the world Othello.
Yeah, and performed it in blackface.
Get outta here.
(fierce growling) I didn't even actually write the plays!
Okay, Mr.
Simpson, looks like your punishment is to be boiled alive for all eternity in a lake of blood.
All right.
Just wait over there.
Oh, there's a line?
Hey, do you mind if I go ahead of you?
Yeah, in fact, I do mind.
Oh, for...
Oh...
(groaning) Fine, take this buzzer.
When we're ready for you, it'll electrocute you and set your torso aflame!
I know how buzzers work.
(people screaming, crying out) Ooh, poker.
Oh, boy, I got-a the best hand.
I'm-a gonna win.
Ha!
Nice bluff, Benito.
(laughter) Marge's dead dad!
(grunting) You thought I wasn't worthy of Marge.
I'll kill you and send you to super-hell!
Hey, hey, behave yourself.
We have standards here.
Shut up, Tom Selleck!
What Marge's dad did to me was super-sucky.
It's probably the reason he ended up here.
Actually, he ended up here thanks to an unrelated check forging scheme.
Checks.
Remember them?
(chuckles) Oh, crazy.
Homer, uh, let's you and me take a walk.
Walking?
Oh, this really is hell.
I want to show you something.
(man groaning) Wow, another screen?
Yeah, this is hell.
Screens everywhere.
Mom, Dad, I'd like you to meet Mercer.
He designs board games.
Oh, like Parker Brothers?
(laughs) Yeah, like Parker Brothers.
No.
You actually play that mainstream corporate garbage?
You're so lucky to be meeting me today.
Seriously, I am so jealous of you.
Check this out.
My new game is gonna be a huge hit.
It combines the Stratego-ness of Stratego, the implicit sexual tension of Twister, and the hard-driving whimsy of Tic-Tac-Toe.
It's called Side-gammon.
Who's up for a game?
Huh?
Oh, come on!
It's super complicated!
You'll be out before you know it, and you'll be humiliated!
(growls angrily) Excuse me, I have to go yell something into your washer-dryer.
He really is brilliant, and he has a good heart.
I'm going to marry him.
(door closes) MERCER (in other room): I'm the Mozart of board games and novelties!
Why, that guy's a total loser.
I don't want him to marry Lisa.
Wait, I was never as bad as him, was I?
(chuckles) Actually, there was a time when I would have preferred that guy to you.
Plus, you know what?
We got an advance copy of Side-gammon, and it's not bad.
Oh, my God.
I'm starting to see things from another point of view.
Your point of view.
I didn't even know other people had those.
You were just worried about Marge, the way I'd be worried about Lisa.
No matter how old and dead we get, we just want to make sure our little girls are okay.
(buzzer buzzing) D'oh!
FEMALE ANNOUNCER: Homer Simpson, we are now ready to boil you for eternity in a lake of blood.
Wow, suddenly that doesn't sound so good.
(angelic choir sings) Eh, you just had an epiphany, pally, which means you get to go back to your life.
It's a dumb rule, but we need a two-thirds vote to change it.
Which is also a dumb rule.
What can I say?
Hell ain't perfect.
Homer, you're getting another chance.
Now, get the hell out of hell and go back to my daughter.
You heard the man.
Let's get your ass home.
(angelic choir sings) BOTH: Ow!
Damn, that hurt.
(groans) You died and went to hell.
Ralph knows.
Whee!
Thank you, Goobie-Woo.
I learned more tumbling through the air than I ever did tumbling through my life.
(tires screech) (siren whoops) (gasps) Dad!
Homer!
Goobie-Woo.
(giggles) Oh, Homie, thank God you're okay.
(Homer groaning) Homer, I have to ask you, why did you send me that angry text?
It doesn't matter.
I have since set aside my own ego and learned to savor my many blessings.
And you, my darling, are foremost amongst them.
I don't understand a thing he's saying.
(shouting gibberish) He seems to be in a lot of pain.
Can't you give him something?
Absolutely not.
No can do till we get to the hospital.
(groaning) (Marge sighs) (sighs): Ah.
I guess I can go another month without a new purse.
♪ That's the end, bitch ♪ ♪ That's the end, bitch ♪ ♪ That's the end.
♪ That's the end.
(laughs) Captioning sponsored by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION and FOX BROADCASTING COMPANY and TOYOTA.
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org You see, I'm a projection of your psyche, and you're in the middle of a very traumatic life event.
LISA: And cut.
Now we should move on to the part where your character slaps Dad.
Wait a minute, isn't that just a sound effect?
No, it's got to be real.
Right, Lizzo?
Uh, seems a bit excessive to me, but, hey, pshh, you're the kid.
You know what?
If you're uncomfortable, you don't have to do it.
(Homer sighs) I could do it for you.
And action!
(grunts) Maybe a few more for safety?
(Homer grunting) Whose safety?
(grunts) I don't feel safe!
(rhythmic slapping) Ow.
Ow.
Why, you little...
This beat is fire.
(Homer continues grunting) Yo, Lisa, how 'bout I get Sasha Flute, you get your saxamaphone, and we, uh, jam?
I'd love to.
(playing Simpsons theme) Ow.
Ow.
Ow.
Stop that.
Ow.
Ow.
Ow.
Why, you little...
Ow.
(music ends) Shh!
(school bell rings) (Barney belches) (work whistle blows) Aah!
(scanner beeps) (playing blues riff) (tires screech) Mm.
(tires screeching) (horn and toy horn honk) What?
Whatcha...
(tires screech) D'oh!
(tires screech) (grunts) (hushed): Who the hell are these people?
♪ Why you...
(frustrated grunting) Oh, my pâté de campagne!
My "Kick me" sign!
(tires screeching) Oh, how could she?
Why would she?
So many feelings, all of them anger.
Must drive them away.
Rage belongs on the road.
(tires screeching) (growls angrily) (shouting gibberish) (meowing) (shouting gibberish) (tires screeching) Where the hell's my phone?
Got to express my rage to the person who enraged me: my wife.
(people murmuring, shouting) Marge, I am so, so, so, so angry.
Anger emoji, skull emoji, eggplant emoji, because I hate eggplant.
Fire, fire, fire.
Aah!
A fire-fire-fire hydrant!
Okay, Homer, stay calm.
Your seat belt will save you.
Wha?
Thank God I still got my airbag.
Safety first.
Hmm?
Ah.
(snoring) (whimpers) Well, at least I got shatter-proof glass.
Oh, it's shattering!
(distorted): D'oh...!
(gasps) I'm soaring through the air like an angel, or a beautiful loogie.
How very majestic the world looks from up here.
The sky, the ocean, Ralph.
Bart's bald mommy is going to die.
That's her problem.
(laughs) FEMALE VOICE: Homer?
Yo, big man.
Now's not the time to chill.
What?
Who the hell was that?
It's me, Maggie's Happy Little Elf doll.
Oh, yeah.
She calls you Goobie-Woo.
Of course she does.
That's my damn name.
Okay.
Sheesh, Goobie-Woo.
But how are you talking right now?
That's a little complicated.
You see, I'm a projection of your psyche, and you're in the middle of a very traumatic life event.
Traumatic?
What do you mean?
I feel great.
(humming happily) Homer.
Homer, what you're currently experiencing is called post-traumatic elation.
Is that like Post Raisin Bran?
(grunts) Damn it, man, you are literally in the middle of a car accident!
What?!
Oh, right.
Let me lay this out.
You and me are gonna use this car ejection for some self-reflection, okay, my brother?
And that journey begins with finding the source of your anger.
Now, gaze into that little piece of glass.
I need a safe-deposit box.
Want to know why?
Well, that's why I got into banking in the first place, for the thrilling stories.
Well, this morning, I was on my break at the nuclear power plant...
Uh-huh.
...so I went and got myself a bag of chips.
Potato chips.
I feel like I'm at a story slam right now.
They were so delicious and salty and chompy, and before long, they were all gone.
No.
Almost.
Oh, there's a twist?
But then I pulled out this, a chip that looks exactly like John Travolta.
And that's why I need a safe-deposit box, to protect this treasure forever.
Oh, don't study opera staging in Vienna, they said.
Work in a bank, they said.
Mm-hmm.
Mr.
Simpson, it looks like your family already has a safe-deposit box.
Your wife rented it out over a decade ago.
Wow, you've got a wife.
Wha?
Now, I'm not supposed to show you this, but lucky for you right now I'm super high. "
Last will and testament"?
Written by Clarence Bouvier, your father-in-law.
Marge's dad left a will?
He never told me about that in the four conversations we ever had.
It says here he set up a trust to pay Marge Simpson, ooh, $1,000 a month.
A thousand dollars?
What?
No.
No!
What?!
No!
No?
What?
No.
And I can confirm that your wife has been receiving that money every month since her father died.
Marge has been getting all that money for years, and she never told me about it.
I-I don't know what to feel.
In these situations, many of our customers opt for extreme rage.
Well, I hate to just follow the crowd, but...
(growling angrily) (grumbling, muttering) So that's why I was so mad.
And that's why I'm even angrier now.
For all these years, Marge has been hiding money from me.
It's a blatant act of, of, uh...
The term is "financial infidelity."
And I can see how you'd be angry.
Oh, thank you.
But it's the wrong emotion to feel.
Damn it.
Homer, I'm gonna help you work through this anger so you can find peace.
Aw, work?
That sounds like work.
How much time do I have?
I'd say about point-three seconds judging by how fast you're flying towards that tree.
Aah!
Oh, my God, we're airborne.
Whoa!
(all scream) I don't know which one I'm more upset about, that my wife has been keeping a secret mountain of cash from me, or that I'm about to die in a stupid, violent car wreck.
Don't make me choose, Goobie-Woo.
(Homer crying out) Homer, you're spiraling.
Of course I'm spiraling.
I'm literally flying through the air.
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
Listen, I know you're feeling all the feels right now, but we're getting closer to the real source of your rage.
What?
I'm sorry, I'm eating my feelings.
Bad Homer.
Spit out that food, and those feelings.
(grunts) What was Marge spending that money on?
And why did she keep it a secret from everybody?
LISA: Um, not everybody, Dad.
I hate to say it, but we've known about Mom's secret cash for quite some time.
Yeah, that's why I laugh myself to sleep every night.
What?
And here I've been worried sick about your night giggles.
Let me tell you how we found out.
I was blowing off steam one day...
...and I saw that Mom was getting $100,000 a month!
LISA: Then I explained to Bart how decimal points work.
Then we asked Mom about it, and she admitted the whole thing.
So then tell me, why did she keep the money a secret?
I don't think you can handle it.
I can handle it.
Okay.
The reason is...
(imitating Marge): Your father is an ape-faced butt monster who eats booger sandwiches and also sucks.
(laughs) Why, you little unreliable narrator!
Ow!
Glass is sharp.
Oh, even my kids knew I was being fiscally unmanned.
(normal voice): Okay, got to go, ape face.
See you at your funeral.
We'll be the kids running around in our nice clothes, poignantly unaware of the finality of death.
Oh, that tree can't get here fast enough.
(straining) Okay, Michael Phelps, don't swim to your death just yet.
Don't you want to find out what Marge been spending the money on?
Oh, you bet I do.
Well, that's what I thought.
Give me your best guess.
I want to give her the benefit of the doubt, but I can't help but imagine the worst.
See you later.
I'm off to earn our only source of income.
He's gone.
Robo-butler, bring me a caviar hoagie.
(robotic voice): My word.
This is so expensive.
Mmm.
Mmm-mmm.
You know what else I'm paying for?
Sexy handymen doing chores around the house.
♪ I got this feeling on the summer day when you were gone ♪ ♪ I crashed my car into the bridge ♪ ♪ I don't care ♪ ♪ I love it ♪ ♪ I don't care ♪ ♪ I love it, I love it...
♪ I don't know which I love more, being rich or hiding it from my husband.
(robotic laugh) Let us mock him through dance.
(rapid mechanical whirring) ♪ I love it.
♪ (growling angrily) Whew, Homer, I hesitate to ask, but why does your brain think that's what Marge is doing with the money?
Because it's what I'd do.
Except the repairmen would be my favorite rock stars: Kiss, Bon Jovi, Men at Work, because of their excellent work ethic.
(grunts) Stop!
Your wife is a much better person than you are, and she's been using the money in a very different way.
So no robot butler?
♪ You been wasting all your time ♪ ♪ Throwing shade at Marge ♪ ♪ You think behind your back that, yeah ♪ ♪ She's been living large ♪ ♪ Well, I really, really hate to burst your bubble, boo ♪ ♪ All this time, she been spending ♪ ♪ All that cash on you ♪ On me?
No way.
I'm sure that...
Huh?
♪ Homie, Homer, check your elf ♪ ♪ You ain't too bright, I'll explain the sitch ♪ ♪ All them problems you think you solved yourself ♪ ♪ That was Marge, bitch ♪ ♪ That was Marge, bitch ♪ ♪ The time your bar tab was forgiven by Moe ♪ ♪ That was Marge, bitch ♪ ♪ That time Dr.
Hibbert reattached your big toe ♪ ♪ That was Marge, bitch ♪ ♪ The time you got off of that DUI ♪ ♪ That was Marge, bitch ♪ ♪ I think by now you know the reason why ♪ Goobie-Woo in da house!
Oh, my God.
Whoo!
All this time, I've been thinking the worst about Marge, but she was using the money to save me.
Ya think?
And she only kept it a secret to save your dumbass male pride.
♪ Well, Goobie-Goobie-Woo, now I can clearly see ♪ ♪ I've got the greatest wife and spouse ♪ ♪ That there could ever be ♪ ♪ And what's more...
♪ Huh?
Holy crap, I just flew past the tree!
♪ You're gonna live, bitch ♪ ♪ You're gonna live, bitch ♪ ♪ You're gonna live, bitch ♪ ♪ Yeah, I'm gonna live.
♪ (laughs) Whoo!
Thank God, I don't have to be mad at Marge anymore.
If anything, you should be mad at Marge's dad.
Huh?
Oh, snap, I shouldn't have said that. "
Oh, snap"?
What do you mean, "Oh, snap"?
Oh, snap, why not?
What do you know?
Nothing.
And closure!
(chuckles) Closure-closure, closure-closure.
Oh, no.
I got to know what Marge's dad did, or said or rapped.
Aha, and I've got the magical footage right here.
Don't look at it!
You've come so far.
Inner peace has almost defeated your outer rage.
You've got to be strong, man.
So if I look at that piece of glass, I could change my fate and perhaps even risk my very soul?
Well, I'm cool with that.
What the hell?!
But, Dad, Homer has a good heart, and I'm going to marry him.
Oh, honey, this Simpson fellow will never provide for you.
He has jackass written all over him.
Marge, do you have any turpentine?
It's not coming off.
Hmm.
His friends did that after he fell asleep at a party.
Homer's the sweetest person I've ever met.
Every time I look into his eyes, I see someone who will never stop loving me.
Oh...
crap.
Look, I'm gonna leave you something special in my will to make sure you're okay, because you've found every father's worst nightmare: true love with a true loser.
Loser?
But I thought Marge's dad liked me.
He was always warning me about doors hitting my butt on the way out.
How dare he emasculate me from beyond the grave?
Uh-huh.
I told you not to look at it.
Wait, how could I remember that talk between Marge and her dad if I wasn't around to see it?
You can see stuff like that 'cause you're a ghost now.
You dead.
(ghostlike): D'oh...!
I tried to tell you, and you didn't want to hear me.
You was eating your feelings and carrying on.
Goobie-Woo knows what's good.
I'm gonna see this in every dream now.
Oh, my God, I'm in heaven now.
It's so huge, so majestic.
So red.
Ooh, it's one of heaven's goaty-footed angels.
And look at that giant fork.
Probably for eating delicious, heavenly s'mores.
Think again, pally.
(flesh sizzles) Ow!
Wait a second, I'm in hell?
But why?
Because you committed the deadly sin of wrath against your father-in-law.
So what?
Everybody hates everybody these days.
Plus the rest of the seven deadly sins all in the last half second of your life.
♪ Whoo-hoo!
I hit for the cycle!
Okay, so this is where you check in for your eternal punishments.
Who are they?
(lively chatter) That's our exchange program we have with heaven.
We send them people condemned for sins that aren't sins anymore.
FEMALE ANNOUNCER: All aboard for those damned for being gay between 5000 BC and like ten years ago.
It's about damn time.
(all cheer) Make way for Miss Thing!
FEMALE ANNOUNCER: Now arriving, former residents of heaven who are now considered bad by today's standards.
Wherefore art I in hell?
I gave the world Othello.
Yeah, and performed it in blackface.
Get outta here.
(fierce growling) I didn't even actually write the plays!
Okay, Mr.
Simpson, looks like your punishment is to be boiled alive for all eternity in a lake of blood.
All right.
Just wait over there.
Oh, there's a line?
Hey, do you mind if I go ahead of you?
Yeah, in fact, I do mind.
Oh, for...
Oh...
(groaning) Fine, take this buzzer.
When we're ready for you, it'll electrocute you and set your torso aflame!
I know how buzzers work.
(people screaming, crying out) Ooh, poker.
Oh, boy, I got-a the best hand.
I'm-a gonna win.
Ha!
Nice bluff, Benito.
(laughter) Marge's dead dad!
(grunting) You thought I wasn't worthy of Marge.
I'll kill you and send you to super-hell!
Hey, hey, behave yourself.
We have standards here.
Shut up, Tom Selleck!
What Marge's dad did to me was super-sucky.
It's probably the reason he ended up here.
Actually, he ended up here thanks to an unrelated check forging scheme.
Checks.
Remember them?
(chuckles) Oh, crazy.
Homer, uh, let's you and me take a walk.
Walking?
Oh, this really is hell.
I want to show you something.
(man groaning) Wow, another screen?
Yeah, this is hell.
Screens everywhere.
Mom, Dad, I'd like you to meet Mercer.
He designs board games.
Oh, like Parker Brothers?
(laughs) Yeah, like Parker Brothers.
No.
You actually play that mainstream corporate garbage?
You're so lucky to be meeting me today.
Seriously, I am so jealous of you.
Check this out.
My new game is gonna be a huge hit.
It combines the Stratego-ness of Stratego, the implicit sexual tension of Twister, and the hard-driving whimsy of Tic-Tac-Toe.
It's called Side-gammon.
Who's up for a game?
Huh?
Oh, come on!
It's super complicated!
You'll be out before you know it, and you'll be humiliated!
(growls angrily) Excuse me, I have to go yell something into your washer-dryer.
He really is brilliant, and he has a good heart.
I'm going to marry him.
(door closes) MERCER (in other room): I'm the Mozart of board games and novelties!
Why, that guy's a total loser.
I don't want him to marry Lisa.
Wait, I was never as bad as him, was I?
(chuckles) Actually, there was a time when I would have preferred that guy to you.
Plus, you know what?
We got an advance copy of Side-gammon, and it's not bad.
Oh, my God.
I'm starting to see things from another point of view.
Your point of view.
I didn't even know other people had those.
You were just worried about Marge, the way I'd be worried about Lisa.
No matter how old and dead we get, we just want to make sure our little girls are okay.
(buzzer buzzing) D'oh!
FEMALE ANNOUNCER: Homer Simpson, we are now ready to boil you for eternity in a lake of blood.
Wow, suddenly that doesn't sound so good.
(angelic choir sings) Eh, you just had an epiphany, pally, which means you get to go back to your life.
It's a dumb rule, but we need a two-thirds vote to change it.
Which is also a dumb rule.
What can I say?
Hell ain't perfect.
Homer, you're getting another chance.
Now, get the hell out of hell and go back to my daughter.
You heard the man.
Let's get your ass home.
(angelic choir sings) BOTH: Ow!
Damn, that hurt.
(groans) You died and went to hell.
Ralph knows.
Whee!
Thank you, Goobie-Woo.
I learned more tumbling through the air than I ever did tumbling through my life.
(tires screech) (siren whoops) (gasps) Dad!
Homer!
Goobie-Woo.
(giggles) Oh, Homie, thank God you're okay.
(Homer groaning) Homer, I have to ask you, why did you send me that angry text?
It doesn't matter.
I have since set aside my own ego and learned to savor my many blessings.
And you, my darling, are foremost amongst them.
I don't understand a thing he's saying.
(shouting gibberish) He seems to be in a lot of pain.
Can't you give him something?
Absolutely not.
No can do till we get to the hospital.
(groaning) (Marge sighs) (sighs): Ah.
I guess I can go another month without a new purse.
♪ That's the end, bitch ♪ ♪ That's the end, bitch ♪ ♪ That's the end.
♪ That's the end.
(laughs) Captioning sponsored by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION and FOX BROADCASTING COMPANY and TOYOTA.
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org You see, I'm a projection of your psyche, and you're in the middle of a very traumatic life event.
LISA: And cut.
Now we should move on to the part where your character slaps Dad.
Wait a minute, isn't that just a sound effect?
No, it's got to be real.
Right, Lizzo?
Uh, seems a bit excessive to me, but, hey, pshh, you're the kid.
You know what?
If you're uncomfortable, you don't have to do it.
(Homer sighs) I could do it for you.
And action!
(grunts) Maybe a few more for safety?
(Homer grunting) Whose safety?
(grunts) I don't feel safe!
(rhythmic slapping) Ow.
Ow.
Why, you little...
This beat is fire.
(Homer continues grunting) Yo, Lisa, how 'bout I get Sasha Flute, you get your saxamaphone, and we, uh, jam?
I'd love to.
(playing Simpsons theme) Ow.
Ow.
Ow.
Stop that.
Ow.
Ow.
Ow.
Why, you little...
Ow.
(music ends) Shh!