Rhymes and Misdemeanors/Quotes


 * Waylon Smithers: Mr. Burns, I hope I'm not too late.
 * Mr. Burns: Of course you're too late, you truckling lickspittle! I've ingested this foul caffeinated brew and it is you wh will pay the consquences! Now I'll be awake for the better part of the week.
 * Waylon Smithers: But, sir, I'm certain I ordered you decaf mochaccino with steamed buttermilk and a sprinkle of nutmeg.
 * Krusty: Whoopsy! Heh, heh. My fault. I'm covering one of Wolfcastle's shifts while he's on location. We thought having celebrites serving the bean juice would help to increase business.


 * Krusty: Hey kid, would you mind not sending my paying customers out of here with their hearts in their hands? I'm barely staying afloat here.
 * Lisa: That's too bad. You I know, the coffee houses of old were packed to the rafters with poet-loving patrons.
 * Krusty: I'd love have this place paced to the raferts, only I don't have the somolians to pay any poets.
 * Lisa: Pay? The only compensation a poet asks is an attentive ear!
 * Krusty: That's it! Starting tomorrow night I'll exploit, er, showcase your angstfilled prose.
 * Lisa: You mean I can have a forum to vent all the turmoil within?
 * Krusty: Sure, but don't be too whiny and depressing. I get enough of that when my gag writers ask for a raise.


 * Krusty: Now it's time to bring out the inspiration for tonight's show, which doesn't mean she has any right to paid compenstation, Lisa Simpson!
 * Lisa: "Disillusionment of an Eight Year Old." Wondering... just where is my place at school? The library? Where? Seeking solace in a sweet yellow face with a towering hedge of sapphire hair.
 * Marge (thinking): Where did she come up with such beautiful imagery?
 * Lisa: At home the bumbling man of the couch makes a sound, grumbling and mumbling.
 * Homer: Zzzzzz...
 * Lisa: My brother beats out his mischievous sound.
 * Sound: TUNK! TUNK!
 * Lisa: And the only one to share my pain is...
 * Homer: Zzzzzzz...
 * Lisa: A vacuous icon, all plastic and vain!


 * Martin Prince: "O for a fraught of vintage! That hath been cooled a long age in the deep delved Earth."
 * Moe: Hey kid! You ain't allowed here!
 * Martin Prince: Yes, of course, my beer must be of the root variety, for I live a life of unmatched sobriety. And loneliness is how I'll gain my notoriety. I am touched that my poem, which comes from a place of such pain, has inspired emotion within you that has caused you to cry.
 * Moe: Huh? Oh, no. I just caught a whiff of Barney's stink, but you did inspire me, kid. I got an idea...


 * Krusty: So, whaddya think?
 * Lisa: You can forget it! I don't mind hosting the show, but not dressed like Mike Tyson, It's insulting to my beatnik roots and vegetarian lifestyle.
 * Krusty: Come on, kid. You gotta do it. I'm starting to lose customers to that lousy Moe. Besides I've already printed up the signs! "Little Lisa the Pugilistic Poet Takes on any and all Comers." After you bout with Prince last week, the crowed is blood-thirsty. They just wanna see you take some poor sap apart, live, on stage. Figuratively speaking, of course. Although, if you really wanna hurt 'Im, so much the better. Ouch!
 * Lisa: Well, I didn't come here to play dress up!
 * Krusty: Hey, come back here! Those trunks are rented!