Difference between revisions of "The Twisted World of Marge Simpson/Quotes"
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|episode=The Twisted World of Marge Simpson | |episode=The Twisted World of Marge Simpson | ||
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| − | : | + | :Mob Boss: Sorry we're late. Could we have the money now? |
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': The answer… is no. |
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mob Boss''': I'm afraid I must insist. You see, my wife, she has been most vocal on the subject of the pretzel monies. "Where's the money? "When are you going to get the money?" "Why aren't you getting the money now?" And so on. |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | : | + | :Mob Boss: You have 24 hours to give us our money. And to show you we're serious… you have 12 hours. |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | : | + | :Lady: I don't understand why they won't unload our falafel fixings. |
| − | : | + | :Cop: Ship's impounded, ma'am. |
| − | :'''Chief | + | :'''Chief''': Yeah, we, uh, found a couple of barnacles on the hull; that and, uh, the deck was, uh, wet. |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | : | + | :Dad: Marge needs help… and God knows I'm not the man to provide it. But I know who can! |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | : | + | :Dad: Hey, what's all that commotion outside? Why, it's one of those pretzel wagons the movie stars are always talking about. |
| − | : | + | :Worker: (gasps) Here? At our plant? |
| − | : | + | :Dad: That's right, Lenny. Let's all give in to deliciousness--The Pretzel Wagon way! |
(Everyone cheers) | (Everyone cheers) | ||
| − | : | + | :Dad: Yeah! Homer's right! |
---- | ---- | ||
(It's a black day for baseball after fans hurl their pretzels onto the field at an Isotopes game.) | (It's a black day for baseball after fans hurl their pretzels onto the field at an Isotopes game.) | ||
| − | :''' | + | :'''Boy''': Oh, cheer up, Mom. You can't buy publicity like that. Thousands and thousands of people saw your pretzels injuring Whitey Ford. |
| − | : | + | :Dad: You can call them Whitey-whackers! |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': Hmm! It's not bad! |
| − | : | + | :Pretzel Man: It's not only not bad -- it's not bread. "Knot bread", you get it?… See? |
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': (they both laugh) I do! Knot bread! |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | :'''Disco | + | :'''Disco Man''': Did you know that disco record sales were up 400% for the year ending 1976? If these trends continue A-y-y-y! |
(puts his feet up on his desk wearing see-through platform shoes with water and fish inside) | (puts his feet up on his desk wearing see-through platform shoes with water and fish inside) | ||
| − | : | + | :Dad: Uh, your fish are dead. |
| − | :'''Disco | + | :'''Disco Man''': Yeah, I know. I… can't get them out of there. |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | : | + | :Man: That's the miracle of the franchise. You get all the equipment and know-how you need, plus a familiar brand-name people trust. You'll be on a rocket-ride to the moon! And while you're there, would you pick up some of that nice, green moon money for me … Royce McCutcheon! |
| − | : | + | :Dad: No deal, McCutcheon that moon money is mine! |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': I'm not wild about these high-risk ventures. They sound a little risky. |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | : | + | :Mob Boss: (trying to take the mommy's keys) Is, uh, there a button or a release for these keys? |
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': Oh, you have to push in as you turn. |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | : | + | :Mob Boss: Greetings, Homer. |
| − | : | + | :Dad: Hey! Fat Tony! You still with the mafia? |
| − | : | + | :Mob Boss: Uh, uh, yes, I am. Thank you for asking. Now, Homer, as you no doubt recall, you were done a favor by our, uh, how shall I say...Mafia Crime Syndicate. |
| − | : | + | :Dad: Oh yeah. |
| − | : | + | :Mob Boss: Now the time has come for you to do us a favor. |
| − | : | + | :Dad: You mean the mob only did me a favor to get something in return? Oh, Fat Tony! I will say good day to you, sir! |
| − | : | + | :Mob Boss: Ok. I will go. |
| − | ( | + | (The boss leaves) |
| − | : | + | :Mob Boss: (Realizing what just happened) Wait a minute! |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': Here you go! Free Pretzel Wagon pretzels for everyone. One bite and you'll be hooked! |
| − | :'''Principal | + | :'''Principal''': Thank you! |
| − | : | + | :Bee: Gracias! |
| − | : | + | :Dad: That means "thank you," Marge! |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | : | + | :Pretzel Man: Congratulations, and welcome to the dynamic world of mobile pretzel retailing. |
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': When can I start? Where's my territory? |
| − | : | + | :Pretzel Man: Your..territory...well, lemme tell ya. Wherever a young mother is ignorant of what to feed her baby, you'll be there. Wherever nacho penetration is less than total, you'll be there. Wherever a Bavarian is not quite full, you will be there. |
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': Don't forget fat people. They can't stop eating! |
| − | ( | + | (Dad walks by) |
| − | : | + | :Dad: Hey, pretzels! |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | : | + | :Dad: What do you need to make money for, anyway? As long as I have my earning power, this family's got nothing to worry about. |
| − | ( | + | (Dad stabs himself in the eye with a hot dog) |
| − | : | + | :Dad: Ow! Call work and tell 'em I won't be in tomorrow! |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': Alright, Helen. If I'm not wanted I'll leave. |
| − | : | + | :Lady: You'll get your pancakes in the mail. |
(later at the Simpson house) | (later at the Simpson house) | ||
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': Uhh… and then they gave me back my $500 investment and kicked me out of the club. |
| − | : | + | :Dad: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Back up a bit now. When are the pancakes coming in the mail? |
---- | ---- | ||
(Discussing high-risk investments) | (Discussing high-risk investments) | ||
| − | : | + | :Teacher: Oh! Oh! How about Oklasoft? It's Oklahoma's fastest-growing software company. |
| − | : | + | :Wife: Um, cushions? Everybody likes to sit on cushions. |
| − | : | + | :Old Lady: Children are so fat today. Isn't there some way we could make money off that? |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | ( | + | (The worker is first in line at Mom's pretzel stand.) |
| − | : | + | :Worker: Uh, lets see...I'll have one, uh-- |
| − | : | + | :Hobo: Hey, hurry up. I wanna get my pretzel. |
| − | : | + | :Worker: One pretzel. |
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': Thank you. |
| − | : | + | :Hobo: Lets see...Uh, I will have one of your, uh-- |
| − | : | + | :Old Man: Come on, come on, while we're young. |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': Well, I guess Macy's and Gimbels learned to live side by side. |
| − | : | + | :Old Lady: Gimbels is gone, Marge. Long gone. You're Gimbels. |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | ( | + | (Mom and Dad stand at the front door as a mob war is takes place outside.) |
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': Maybe we should go inside. |
| − | : | + | :Dad: But Marge, that little guy hasn't done anything yet. Look at him! He's gonna do something and you know its gonna be good. |
| − | (Door closes behind | + | (Door closes behind Dad) |
| − | :'''Little Japanese | + | :'''Little Japanese Man''': Hiiiiya! |
(A loud thud can be heard) | (A loud thud can be heard) | ||
| − | : | + | :Dad: Aww. |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | (After | + | (After Dad has handed the bartender a $50 bill.) |
| − | : | + | :Bartender: Homer, you know your money is no good here--Hey wait, this is real money! |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | (After | + | (After the farmer orders 300 pretzels with 300 coupons.) |
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': I should have said "limit one per customer". |
| − | : | + | :Farmer: Shoulda' but didna', so hands 'em over. |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | ( | + | (Mom is watching a video instructing her on how to set up her business.) |
| − | :''' | + | :'''Pretzel Man''': Blanket your community with flyers. A phony ticker-tape parade will help you avoid litter laws. |
| − | (Cut to | + | (Cut to Dad driving the girl through the street in an astronaut helmet.) |
| − | :'''Chief | + | :'''Chief''': (Teary-eyed) Welcome back, Space Girl! |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': Homer! Did you tell the mafia they could eliminate my competitors with savage beatings and attempted murder? |
| − | : | + | :Dad: (swallowing beer) In those words? Yes. |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | : | + | :Dad: I saw you pouring your heart and soul into this business and getting nowhere. I saw you desperately trying to cram one more salty treat into America's already bloated snack hole. So I did what I could. I did what any loving husband would do! I reached out to some violent mobsters. |
---- | ---- | ||
| − | ( | + | (The women stop and say hello to Mom.) |
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': Helen. |
| − | : | + | :Lady: Marge. |
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': Edna. |
| − | : | + | :Teacher: Marge. |
| − | :''' | + | :'''Mom''': (To the old lady) Ummm-- |
| − | : | + | :Old Lady: Agnes, my name is Agnes and you know it's Agnes! It means "lamb," "lamb of God." |
{{Season 8 Q}} | {{Season 8 Q}} | ||
{{DEFAULTSORT:Twisted World of Marge Simpson/Quotes}} | {{DEFAULTSORT:Twisted World of Marge Simpson/Quotes}} | ||
Revision as of 16:44, July 24, 2010
- Mob Boss: Sorry we're late. Could we have the money now?
- Mom: The answer… is no.
- Mob Boss: I'm afraid I must insist. You see, my wife, she has been most vocal on the subject of the pretzel monies. "Where's the money? "When are you going to get the money?" "Why aren't you getting the money now?" And so on.
- Mob Boss: You have 24 hours to give us our money. And to show you we're serious… you have 12 hours.
- Lady: I don't understand why they won't unload our falafel fixings.
- Cop: Ship's impounded, ma'am.
- Chief: Yeah, we, uh, found a couple of barnacles on the hull; that and, uh, the deck was, uh, wet.
- Dad: Marge needs help… and God knows I'm not the man to provide it. But I know who can!
- Dad: Hey, what's all that commotion outside? Why, it's one of those pretzel wagons the movie stars are always talking about.
- Worker: (gasps) Here? At our plant?
- Dad: That's right, Lenny. Let's all give in to deliciousness--The Pretzel Wagon way!
(Everyone cheers)
- Dad: Yeah! Homer's right!
(It's a black day for baseball after fans hurl their pretzels onto the field at an Isotopes game.)
- Boy: Oh, cheer up, Mom. You can't buy publicity like that. Thousands and thousands of people saw your pretzels injuring Whitey Ford.
- Dad: You can call them Whitey-whackers!
- Mom: Hmm! It's not bad!
- Pretzel Man: It's not only not bad -- it's not bread. "Knot bread", you get it?… See?
- Mom: (they both laugh) I do! Knot bread!
- Disco Man: Did you know that disco record sales were up 400% for the year ending 1976? If these trends continue A-y-y-y!
(puts his feet up on his desk wearing see-through platform shoes with water and fish inside)
- Dad: Uh, your fish are dead.
- Disco Man: Yeah, I know. I… can't get them out of there.
- Man: That's the miracle of the franchise. You get all the equipment and know-how you need, plus a familiar brand-name people trust. You'll be on a rocket-ride to the moon! And while you're there, would you pick up some of that nice, green moon money for me … Royce McCutcheon!
- Dad: No deal, McCutcheon that moon money is mine!
- Mom: I'm not wild about these high-risk ventures. They sound a little risky.
- Mob Boss: (trying to take the mommy's keys) Is, uh, there a button or a release for these keys?
- Mom: Oh, you have to push in as you turn.
- Mob Boss: Greetings, Homer.
- Dad: Hey! Fat Tony! You still with the mafia?
- Mob Boss: Uh, uh, yes, I am. Thank you for asking. Now, Homer, as you no doubt recall, you were done a favor by our, uh, how shall I say...Mafia Crime Syndicate.
- Dad: Oh yeah.
- Mob Boss: Now the time has come for you to do us a favor.
- Dad: You mean the mob only did me a favor to get something in return? Oh, Fat Tony! I will say good day to you, sir!
- Mob Boss: Ok. I will go.
(The boss leaves)
- Mob Boss: (Realizing what just happened) Wait a minute!
- Mom: Here you go! Free Pretzel Wagon pretzels for everyone. One bite and you'll be hooked!
- Principal: Thank you!
- Bee: Gracias!
- Dad: That means "thank you," Marge!
- Pretzel Man: Congratulations, and welcome to the dynamic world of mobile pretzel retailing.
- Mom: When can I start? Where's my territory?
- Pretzel Man: Your..territory...well, lemme tell ya. Wherever a young mother is ignorant of what to feed her baby, you'll be there. Wherever nacho penetration is less than total, you'll be there. Wherever a Bavarian is not quite full, you will be there.
- Mom: Don't forget fat people. They can't stop eating!
(Dad walks by)
- Dad: Hey, pretzels!
- Dad: What do you need to make money for, anyway? As long as I have my earning power, this family's got nothing to worry about.
(Dad stabs himself in the eye with a hot dog)
- Dad: Ow! Call work and tell 'em I won't be in tomorrow!
- Mom: Alright, Helen. If I'm not wanted I'll leave.
- Lady: You'll get your pancakes in the mail.
(later at the Simpson house)
- Mom: Uhh… and then they gave me back my $500 investment and kicked me out of the club.
- Dad: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Back up a bit now. When are the pancakes coming in the mail?
(Discussing high-risk investments)
- Teacher: Oh! Oh! How about Oklasoft? It's Oklahoma's fastest-growing software company.
- Wife: Um, cushions? Everybody likes to sit on cushions.
- Old Lady: Children are so fat today. Isn't there some way we could make money off that?
(The worker is first in line at Mom's pretzel stand.)
- Worker: Uh, lets see...I'll have one, uh--
- Hobo: Hey, hurry up. I wanna get my pretzel.
- Worker: One pretzel.
- Mom: Thank you.
- Hobo: Lets see...Uh, I will have one of your, uh--
- Old Man: Come on, come on, while we're young.
- Mom: Well, I guess Macy's and Gimbels learned to live side by side.
- Old Lady: Gimbels is gone, Marge. Long gone. You're Gimbels.
(Mom and Dad stand at the front door as a mob war is takes place outside.)
- Mom: Maybe we should go inside.
- Dad: But Marge, that little guy hasn't done anything yet. Look at him! He's gonna do something and you know its gonna be good.
(Door closes behind Dad)
- Little Japanese Man: Hiiiiya!
(A loud thud can be heard)
- Dad: Aww.
(After Dad has handed the bartender a $50 bill.)
- Bartender: Homer, you know your money is no good here--Hey wait, this is real money!
(After the farmer orders 300 pretzels with 300 coupons.)
- Mom: I should have said "limit one per customer".
- Farmer: Shoulda' but didna', so hands 'em over.
(Mom is watching a video instructing her on how to set up her business.)
- Pretzel Man: Blanket your community with flyers. A phony ticker-tape parade will help you avoid litter laws.
(Cut to Dad driving the girl through the street in an astronaut helmet.)
- Chief: (Teary-eyed) Welcome back, Space Girl!
- Mom: Homer! Did you tell the mafia they could eliminate my competitors with savage beatings and attempted murder?
- Dad: (swallowing beer) In those words? Yes.
- Dad: I saw you pouring your heart and soul into this business and getting nowhere. I saw you desperately trying to cram one more salty treat into America's already bloated snack hole. So I did what I could. I did what any loving husband would do! I reached out to some violent mobsters.
(The women stop and say hello to Mom.)
- Mom: Helen.
- Lady: Marge.
- Mom: Edna.
- Teacher: Marge.
- Mom: (To the old lady) Ummm--
- Old Lady: Agnes, my name is Agnes and you know it's Agnes! It means "lamb," "lamb of God."
