Mother Simpson/Quotes
|
|||||||||
|
|
|
|
This article or section needs to be cleaned up to fit in with the Manual of Style. |
Lenny: I can't believe I'm spending half my Saturday picking up garbage. I mean, half these bottles aren't even mine!
Mr. Burns: Ahem. Let's have less conversation and more sanitation.
Carl: Hey, where's Homer? How'd he get out of this?
Homer: [from the top of a cliff] Hey, everybody! Up here!
Smithers: Simpson, stop frolicking and get to work!
Homer: Right away, Mr. Smithers. I'll just walk across these slippery rocks—aah! [falls]
Carl: Oh no! He's going over the falls!
Lenny: Oh good. He snagged that tree branch.
Carl: Oh no! The branch broke off!
Lenny: Oh good. He can grab onto them pointy rocks.
Carl: Oh no! Them rocks broke his arms and legs.
Lenny: Oh good. Those helpful beavers are swimming out to save him.
Carl: Oh no! They're biting him, and stealing his pants.
Smithers: Good Lord...he'll be sucked into the turbine! [Homer swirls around then gets sucked in; the workers gasp, then bow their heads]
Mr. Burns: [rolling down the window] Smithers, who was that corpse?
Smithers: Homer Simpson, Sir. [sniffs] One of the finest, bravest men ever to grace sector 7G. [sobs] [in a normal voice] I'll cross him off the list.
Reverend Lovejoy: Marge, we can't tell you how sorry we are.
Ned Flanders: You have our deepest condol-diddely-olences. [stammering] I'm sorry, I'm just nervous: I didn't mean any disrespect.
Marge: What are you talking about?
Ned: You know...Homer's passing. [Marge looks blankly] Away. [Marge looks blankly again] Into death.
Marge: What?! [looks at paper] That's ridiculous! Homer's not dead. He's right out back in the hammock. [they all go out back; the hammock is now empty]
Ned: Oh, Marge, of course Homer's alive: he's alive in all our hearts.
Maude: Yes, Marge. I can see him.
Lisa: [skips by happily] Hi everybody!
Reverend Lovejoy: Marge, I'm going to give you the card of our juvenile counselor.
[When Patty and Selma come by the Simpsons' home with a tombstone for Homer]
Marge: A tombstone?!
Patty: It came with the burial plot, but that's not important: the important thing is, Homer's dead.
Selma: We've been saving for this since your wedding day.
Marge: Get out of here, you ghouls! [shuts the door] Ay-yi-yi-yi-yi.
[When the power goes out and Marge goes to the window and sees a workman cutting the lines]
Marge: Uh, excuse me! Sir? I think there's been a mistake.
Workman: Oh, no, no mistake. Your electricity's in the name of Homer J. Simpson, deceased. The juice stays off until you get a job or a generator. Oh, and, uh, my deepest sympathies.
Marge: Homer?
Homer: That's my name.
Marge: When I asked you if that dummy was to fake your own death, you told me no. You go downtown first thing in the morning and straighten this out.
[Homer goes to the Springfield Hall of Records]
Homer: Listen here: my name is Homer J. Simpson. You guys think I'm dead, but I'm not. Now I want you to straighten this out without a lot of your bureaucratic red tape and mumbo-jumbo!
Bureaucrat: [typing on the computer] OK, Mr. Simpson, I'll just make the change here... and you're all set.
Homer: I don't like your attitude, you water-cooler dictator. What do you have in that secret government file anyway? I have a right to read it.
Bureaucrat: [spins the computer around] You sure do.
Homer: [reads] "Wife: Marjorie. Children: Bartholomew, Lisa"—aha! See? This thing is all screwed up! Who the heck is Margaret Simpson?
Bureaucrat: Uh, your youngest daughter.
Homer: [mockingly] "Uh, your youngest daughter". Well how about this? This thing says my mother's still alive; she died when I was a kid! [goes to the window] See that stone angel up there? That's my mother's grave. My dad points it out every time we drive by.
Bureaucrat: Mr. Simpson, uh...maybe you should actually go up there.
[Homer goes to see his mother's "grave"]
Homer: Mom, I'm sorry I never come to see you. I'm just not a cemetery person. "Here lies" -- Walt Whitman?! Damn you, Walt Whitman! I hate you, Walt freakin' Whitman! Leaves of grass, my ass!
Homer: I thought you were dead!
Mona Simpson: I thought you were dead!
Mona Simpson: Homer, you grew up so handsome.
Homer: Some people say I look like Dan Aykroyd. I can't believe you're here! Dad always told me you died while I was at the movies.
Mona Simpson: Oh, my poor baby. You must have been so upset. But I suppose Abe has his reasons.
Homer: Well, where have you been all this time?
Mona Simpson: It's...a very complicated story. Let's just enjoy this moment.
Homer: Ma, there's something you should know about me: I almost always spoil the moment. [a pelican lands on his head and spits a fish into his pants] I'm sorry.
Mona Simpson: That's OK, darling: it wasn't your fault.
Homer: Hey, everybody! I've got a big surprise for you! Presenting...my mother!
[everyone drops their food and talks incredulously]
Mona Simpson: [awkwardly] Hello.
Lisa: This is so weird. It's like something out of Dickens or "Melrose Place."
Bart: Where have you been, Granny? Did they freeze you or something?
Mona Simpson: Oh, my, such clever grandchildren. So full of questions and bright, shiny eyes.
Marge: I don't know what to say: I finally have a mother-in-law. [laughs nervously] No more living vicariously through my girlfriends. [laughs more, then coughs]
Bart: Hey, since you were a no-show at all the big moments of my life, you owe me years of back presents, Christmases, report cards (grabs a calculator) Hmm, 75 bucks a pop plus interest and penalties…you owe me $22,000.
Homer: I'll Kwanzaa you! [strangles Bart]
Mona Simpson: Homer, don't be so hard on little… [whispers] what is his name?
Homer: This is my room, and this is my dresser. It's where I keep my shirts when I'm not wearing them.
Mona Simpson: Oh, yes, right in the drawers. [they both laugh]
Homer: [sighing] You remembered. Oh, I've missed moments like this... Mom.
Mona Simpson: I saw all your awards, Lisa. They're mighty impressive.
Lisa: Aw, I just keep them out to bug Bart, heh.
Mother Simpson: Don't be bashful. When I was your age, kids made fun of me because I read at the 9th grade level.
Lisa: Me too!
Homer: [walks on his hands] Hey, Mom! Look at me! Look at what I can do!
Mother Simpson: I see you, Homer. That's very nice. [to Lisa] Although I hardly consider "A Separate Peace" the ninth-grade level.
Lisa: Shyeah, more like preschool.
Mona Simpson: I hate John Knowles.
Lisa: Me too. [they both laugh, then sigh]
Homer: Mom! You're not looking!
Mona Simpson: You know, Lisa, I feel like I have an instant rapport with you.
Lisa: You didn't dumb it down. You said "rapport."
[A police cruiser rolls down the street]
Mona Simpson: Gotta run! Grandma stuff! [runs in the house; Lisa looks suspicious]
[Bart and Lisa are downstairs in the laundry room]
Lisa: [turns on dryer] There, now no one should be able to hear us.
Bart: What?
Lisa: [turns off dryer] All right, we don't need the dryer.
Bart: What?
Lisa: Just shut up and listen! There's something fishy about Grandma: whenever we ask her where she's been all this time, she changes the subject. And just now, when a police car drove by, she ran into the house.
Bart: Yeah, I don't trust her either. When I was going through her purse, look what I found! [hands Lisa some driver's licenses]
Lisa: [reads] Mona Simpson...Mona Stevens...Martha Stewart...Penelope Olsen...Muddy Mae Suggins? These are the calling cards of a con artist.
Homer: Woo hoo! I'm so glad to have my mom back. I never realized how much I missed her!
Marge: [pause] She's nice.
Homer: But...?
Marge: I just don't think you should get too excited about the woman who abandoned you for 25 years. You could get hurt again.
Homer: First, it wasn't 25 years, it was 27 years. And second, she had a very good reason.
Marge: Which was...?
Homer: [pause] I dunno. I guess I was just a horrible son and no mother would want me.
Marge: Oh, Homey, come on. You're a sweet, kind, loving man. I'm sure you were a wonderful son!
Homer: [unhappily] Then why did she leave me?
Marge: Let's find out.
Marge: Mother Simpson, we'd like to ask you a few questions about your past.
Mona: Can't reminisce, sleeping. [snores]
Bart: Spill it, Muddy Mae, or we're calling the cops!
Mona: Please don't.
Lisa: All right, then we'll call your husband, Grampa!
Mona: No! I'll talk. I'll tell you everything I've wanted to tell you.
[In a flashback from the 60's. A young Homer is playing "Operation."]
Young Homer: "Take out wrenched ankle." [gets electrocuted] Mom! Mom! Mooom!
Mona: [runs in] Oh, my little Homey bear. [kisses him] Time for bed.
Young Homer: [getting in bed] Sing me my bedtime song, Mom.
Mona: [singing] Ooey, gooey, rich and chewy inside, Golden flaky, tender caky outside. Wrap the inside in the outside, is it good?
Young Homer: Darn tootin'.
Mona & Young Homer [singing]: Doing the big Fig Newton! Here's the tricky part.
[Young Homer falls asleep]
Mona: Abe, isn't Homer cute?
Grampa: Probably. I'm trying to watch the Super Bowl. If people don't support this thing, it might not make it.
Howard Cosell: [on TV] Joe Willy Namath, swaggering off the field, his sideburns an apogee of sculpted sartorium. The foppish follicles pioneered by Ambrose Burnside, Appomattox 1865.
Mona [looking at Joe Namath]: His wild, untamed facial hair revealed a new world of rebellion and change. A world where doors were open for women like me. But Abe was stuck in his button-down plastic-fantastic Madison Avenue scene.
Grampa: Look at them sideburns! He looks like a girl. Now, Johnny Unitas. There's a haircut you could set your watch to.
Hippies: [chanting] Anthrax, gangrene, swimmer's ear! Get your germ lab out of here!
Hippies: Hey, hey, Mr. Burns! Enough already with the germs!
Mr. Burns: [from a window above] Ho, their flower power is no match for my glower power! [glowers and the crowd disperses]
Chief Wiggum: [below, guarding the doors] Well that's some nice glowering, Mr. B.
Hippie: When this baby goes off, Burns' lab is going to be history, man—germ history [laughs] Oh man, I got the munchies.
Chief Wiggum: [gasping, panting] No...no! Wait a minute -- [tries breathing] Bronchial tubes clearing...asthma disappearing! Acne remains, but...asthma disappearing.
Mr. Burns [to Mona]: You just made a very big mistake. You'll spend the rest of your life in pri...
[Chief Wiggum slams the door open and crushes Mr. Burns behind it]
Chief Wiggum: My asthma's gone! Listen to me breathe. [snorts] Waaah! [snorts] Waaah!
Kent Brockman [on TV] Only one member of the Springfield Seven was identified. She's been described as a woman in her early 30's, yellow complexion, and may be extremely helpful. For Channel Six News, I'm Kenny Brockelstein.
[Mona walks into Homer's room while he's asleep]
Mona: Homer...[kisses him, weeps] I'm sorry. [walks out]
Homer: [in the present] I thought I dreamed that kiss.
Marge: I'm so sorry I misjudged you, Mom. You had to leave to protect your family.
Homer: There's one thing I don't understand, Mom...in all those years, why didn't you try to contact me?
Mona: But I did. I sent you a care package every week!
Homer: Oh come on Ma, we use that same line on the kids when they're at camp.
[Homer goes to the post office]
Homer: Any undelivered mail for Homer J. Simpson?
Postal Worker: No. Oh wait, this. [lifts huge sack of parcels] That's what happens when you don't tip your letter carrier at Christmas.
Mr. Burns: I'd like to send this to the Prussian consulate in Siam by aeromail. Am I too late for the 4:30 auto-gyro?
Squeaky-voiced teen: Uh, I better look in the manual.
Mr. Burns: [groans] Oh, the ignorance.
Joe Friday: Are you sure this is the woman you saw in the post office?
Mr. Burns: Absolutely! Who could forget such a monstrous visage? She has the sloping brow and cranial bumpage of the career criminal.
Smithers: Uh, Sir? Phrenology was dismissed as quackery 160 years ago.
Mr. Burns: Of course you'd say that...you have the brainpan of a stagecoach tilter!
Bill Gannon: At any rate, the FBI will track down this mystery woman and put her behind bars.
Mona: [singing] How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man?
Homer: Seven!
Lisa: No, Dad, it's a rhetorical question.
Homer: Rhetorical, eh?..... Eight!
Lisa: Dad, do you even know what rhetorical means?
Homer: Do I know what rhetorical means?!
[the doorbell rings]
Bart: [gasps] Quick, Grandma, hide!
[Marge closes the curtains; someone pounds on the door, then manages to open it]
Grampa: No door is going to keep me from my meddling! Stand up straight, Bart.
Mona: Abe?
Grampa: What the… [stammers] Now here's a piece of bad news.
Mona: Oh, Abe, you've aged terribly!
Grampa: What do you expect? You left me to raise the boy on my own!
Mona: I had to leave! But you didn't have to tell Homer I was dead!
Grampa: It was either that, or tell him his mother was a wanted criminal! You were a rotten wife, and I'll never, ever forgive you! [pause] Can we have sex? Please?
Mona: [disgusted] Oh, Abe.
Grampa: Well, I tried! What's for supper?
Cabbie: Yeah, I might have seen her.
Bill Gannon: [typing] Well, according to our computer aging program, she should look about... [turns the screen around which has a giant "25" on it] 25 years older.
Cabbie: Yeah, I seen her! That is to say, I saw her.
Bart [wearing a tie-dye shirt]: Look at me, Grandma: I'm a hippie! Peace man, groovy! Bomb Vietnam! Four more years! Up with people! [runs off]
Lisa: You know, Grandma, I used to think that I was adopted. I couldn't understand how I fit into this family. Now that I met you, I suddenly make a lot of sense. [hugs her]
Mona: I'm so glad to see the spirit of the 60's is still alive in you kids. [camera shows Maggie dancing to the "Laugh-In" theme with a "Ban the bottle" slogan painted on her stomach]
Gravedigger: Yep, I saw her. That is to say, I seen her. She seemed like a nice lady.
Mr. Burns: Well, that nice lady set the cause of biological warfare back 30 years!
Joe Friday [to Selma]: Ma'am, we're going to need your assistance in locating this individual.
Selma: [giggling] Oh, I'm fresh. Don't you want to play "Good Cop, Bad Cop"?
Joe Friday: Ma'am, we're all good cops.
Selma: I had no intention of playing the good cops.
Chief Wiggum: [reading Homer's tombstone upside-down] Put out an APB on a Uosdwis R. Jewoh. Uh, better start with Greektown.
Joe Friday: That's "Homer J. Simpson", Chief. You're reading it upside down.
Chief Wiggum: Uh, cancel that APB. But, uh, bring back some of them, gyros.
Joe Friday: Uh, Chief… You're talking into your wallet.
Lisa: Grandma, have you ever thought about moving back to Springfield?
Homer: You could live with Grampa again. [everyone laughs]
Grampa: Oh, I'm a living joke.
Mona: You know, Lisa, it might be nice to rest for a while.
[The phone rings, Homer answers it, then leans into the doorway]
Homer: Mom? There's nothing to be alarmed about, but...could you take one last look at the family and join me in the kitchen?
Mr. Burns: [in the tank] I've been waiting 25 years for this moment. [puts on a tape of "Ride of the Valkyries." It switches into ABBA's "Waterloo." He glares at Smithers.]
Smithers: I'm sorry, Sir, I must have taped over that.
Joe Friday: FBI. The jig is up.
Grampa: Alright! I admit it, I am the Lindbergh baby! Waah! Waah! Goo-goo! I miss my fly-fly, Da-Da!
Joe Friday: Are you trying to stall us, or are you just senile?
Grampa: A little from Column A, a little from Column B.
Mona: We made it, Homer!
Homer: It's all thanks to our anonymous tipster. [on phone] But who are you? And why did you tip us off?
Chief Wiggum: [on the phone] Well, its cause of your old lady that I got rid of my asthma that was keeping me out of the academy.
Homer: Thanks.
Chief Wiggum: Sure. Just think of me as an anonymous friend who rose through the ranks of the Springfield police to become Chief Clancy Wig--
Homer: [hangs up the phone] Yak, yak, yak, yak, yak!
Mona: Well, there's my ride. The underground awaits.
Homer: [sniffles] At least this time, I'm awake for your goodbye.
Mona: [sniffles] Oh. Remember, whatever happens, you have a mother, and she's truly proud of you. [they hug]
Hippie: Oh! Hurry up, man. This electric van only has 20 minutes of juice left! [Mother Simpson walks into the van]
Homer: Don't forget me!
Mona: Don't worry, Homer: you'll always be a part of me. [hits her head on doorframe] D'oh!
