Difference between revisions of "Papa Don't Leech/Quotes"

Latest revision as of 08:31, April 27, 2024

Lisa: I'm delivering your Scout Gal Cookies, Mayor Quimby! That'll be thirty dollars!

Mayor Quimby: For three boxes?

Lisa: The money helps us serve the community! We plant trees, pick up litter, cut up milk bones for old dogs...

Mayor Quimby: It was a rhetorical question.

Lisa: And I used rhetoric in my answer!

Mayor Quimby: Rip off the federal government? Hm, I have reservations... for dinner in five minutes. So all in favor, say aye!

Kent Brockman: Dozens of swindling deadbeats, as well as this respected reporter who made an honest mistake, have paid their back taxes leaving only one outstanding debtor: country music star Lurleen Lumpkin!

Bart: Oh, right. Dad was Colonel Homer and he wore that awesome suit and Lurleen wanted to bunk his brains out! But I forget how Mom felt about it...

Homer: Kids, marriage is like a car. Along the way it has its bumps and dings, and this country can't make one that lasts more than five years. With Lurleen I just walked past the showroom and didn't even go inside. Now let's return to watching the news.

Kent Brockman: Ms. Lumpkin owed fifty thousand dollars in back taxes. With penalties, interest and the celebrity resentment tax, that sum has grown to twelve million dollars. However, she's been missing for several years, since her career went into a downward spiral.

Homer: I told her not to go into one of those.

Kent Brockman: The entire city is searching for her. Not for any reward, but for the pleasure of destroying someone they once admired.

Homer: Pfft. Look at those idiots. I bet Lurleen's a million miles away right now...

Lurleen Lumpkin: Hey, Homer.

[Homer screams]

Lurleen: Shh! I'm more wanted than the last petal on a bloomin' onion.

Lurleen: Thanks, Marge. Gee, after all that's passed between us, I mean... Well, you're a bigger woman than I am.

Marge: Are you calling me fat?

Lurleen: No, no, no! I'll just be quiet.

Bart: Lurleen, this barbecue is delicious.

Lurleen: Oh, it's just a traditional southern recipe: ketchup, Coca cola, and fricasseed possum.

Everyone: Ew!

Lurleen: Just kiddin'. It's actually chicken.

Lisa: Double ew!

Marge: Listen, I'm sorry I called you all those mean things like, oh, I don't even remember...

Homer: Confederate degenerate?

Lisa: Southern-fried succubus?

Bart: Hee-Haw Ho?

Lou: Chief, you okay?

Chief Wiggum: Yeah, yeah.

Lou: Why'd you jump off the roof?

Wiggum: I just wanted to be extraordinary.

Bailiff: Judge, next we have a man who's suing his wife for not dressing sexy enough in "The Case Of The Horny Husband."

Judge Snyder: What the?

Bailiff: I thought if we acted like "The People's Court," some day we'd be "The People's Court." Well, a bailiff can dream, can't he?

Judge Snyder: No he can't.

Carl Carlson: Say Lurleen, are you Jamaican? 'Cause "Jamaican" me crazy.

Lurleen: That's sweet, but I'm not lookin' to date.

Carl: No, I'm glad you said that. 'Cause you reminded me that I'm not looking to date, either. So... so great.

Lenny Leonard: ey Lurleen, I'm going down to the rock quarry tonight to throw stones at the woodchucks. Wanna come?

Lurleen: No.

Lenny: It's okay, I understand. [to self] Someone's lookin' at a snake in her mailbox.

Marge: She turned down Lenny... and Carl? That's like someone who doesn't like hamburgers or hotdogs. What could make her hate men like that?

Marge: Hello, are you Royce Lumpkin?

Royce Lumpkin: That's right.

Marge: The father of Lurleen Lumpkin?

Royce: Lurleen? I ain't seen my little girl in thirty years. She must be what, uh, twelve, thirteen by now?

Marge: She's thirty-four, and she's having a rough time!

Royce: Lurleen?! My goodness—why you're the spittin' image of your mother's hotter sister!

Lurleen: [slaps him] Royce Lumpkin, where you been?

Royce: I've been a dang fool, that's where. Can you forgive me, Lurleen? The way that I immediately forgave myself?

Homer: Wait a minute—he's a deadbeat dad, and yet he's getting as much love as me, a Dad too lazy to run away! [moans] And he has hair! Bart, get me my suicide axe.

Marge: No suicide axe!

Homer: Lurleen's daddy comes back after thirty years and he's father of the year. Why can't I leave for thirty years?

Bart: Fine with me. Look, I packed you a bag.

Homer: Well... it might be cold outside.

Bart: No problem. I bought you a hat.

Homer: Oh, I see. It's reverse psychology. Well in that case I'm not going and I'm not staying. And I'll cut my steak with a spoon, then take a walk on the ceiling.

Bart: You'd think a house full of crazy people would be fun. It's actually really depressing.

Marge: Lurleen, you're giving your Dad too much power over the way you feel about yourself. Stop getting your self-esteem from the men in your life.

Lurleen: Well that's easy for you to say. You're married to a kind, thoughtful genius.

Marge: Uh, yeah...

Marge: It's time for you to take control of your own destiny. You're not a doormat, you're a door prize!

Lurleen: You're right, Marge.

Homer: And remember, you can do anything you want in the world of country music, western wear merchandising and TV movies. Regular movies, don't hold your breath. But TV movies, the sky's the limit.

Lurleen: Colonel, you're still my knight in white polyester.

Homer: Ten percent Lycra.

Lurleen: Oh, I noticed.

Marge: Well, you're very welcome, Lurleen. Of all the women who've hit on Homer over the years, you're my favorite.

Family: Aww.

Marge: [to Lurleen] If you ever come near Homer again, I'll strangle you with your own hair extensions. That's right, I know.