King Kong, er, Homer
01-28-2006, 03:29 PM
If anyone remembers, I posted 3 acts to another episode I wrote up (they were long, so I guess that's why there weren't lots of replies). Well, I've got the first act of another in the works. It's for fun, of course, but honestly I feel these would make real good Simpsons eps if they had a little tinkering. But I'm in no position to be a Simpsons writer... yet. This episode if "Homer the taskmaster" where he becomes more of a hard-@ss with the family (on his own ground rules) to get them to be more respectful. The first act, after some goofy side stuff, establishes this. Here it is, edited for plot purposes (see below for details):
“Homer the Taskmaster”
(Homer walking around confused at breakfast)
Homer: Hmmm... I give up, Marge. Where did you hide them?
Marge: Hide what? Oh, you haven’t been watching that video tape of “Magic Secrets Revealed,” have you?
Homer: No, it’s has nothing to do with my ever-improving magic skills (Homer flashes some cards). But the offer is still open for you to crawl inside this picnic basket (holds it up) and I’ve got the ginsu sword all ready! (happily gestures) Huh?
Marge: Yeah sure, I'll get in the basket (rolls her eyes). As if... (enthusiastically) Isn't that what they say in that hip recent film Clueless? Isn't it? Huh?
Homer: You mean Clue? That movie made Sherlock Holmes look like some kind of Limey detective. Oh boy, that was a fun board game too.
Marge: Yes, yes it was. Before you broke it with a magic trick last week. Please, you think you can be a magician but it's obvious you're not cut out for it. A magician wouldn't have turned our last pet into turtle soup with some silly ginsu trick.
Homer: Yeah, then we got that new one guaranteed to be the best pet ever. Pfft, talk about advertising fraud. I let him run away, but don't tell the kids. Stupid turtle. Though he did find these in the ravine (holds up containers marked "For Mr. Hoffa).
Marge: What was it you were looking for, Homie? Just sit and eat your breakfast.
Homer: That’s the point. You’ve got my bacon, toast, juice but Marge, giving everyone else waffles and not me is way too harsh just because I misplaced your grandma’s ashes.
(Cat in the basement claws at leaky pipe, ashes spill out and engulf it)
Marge: No it’s not revenge, Homer. I cooked up 5 waffles for you. And in the shapes of your heroes of TV (waffles look like 3 stooges, Rerun and Bob Saget on Homer’s behind)
(Homer turns around, dog is eating waffles off his backside)
Homer: Stupid mutt! Off! Off, I said!
(Dog rolls his eyes) (barks like he’s indifferent to Homer’s commands, cat walks on table and coughs up fleas onto Homer's plate)
Homer: What the hell? Eeeeewww.
Homer: (picks up phone and yells) KALL is the one that rocks my socks off! (dejectedly) Oh, it’s the Nuclear Power Plant? Oh, ok.
Smithers: Yes, well don’t come in today Simpson. We have a crisis situation here today and we already have enough of those who showed up early to help out.
Burns (covered in lesions in a tub): (moans) Smithers! These ninkumpoops are causing me unecessary irritation.
Smithers: You fools, use the silk sponges, not the cotton ones.
(Lenny and Carl dressed up in contamination suits scrubbing Burns in a tub)
Carl: Fine, fine. Gosh, if I’d had known the clocks were set back an hour I wouldn’t have wound up here at 6:30 A.M. Usually, my informer on these things TELLS me beforehand!
Lenny: I lost my calendar, trust me. There was a blustery draft one day and...
Smithers: Less talk and more scrubbing. Now, the last time this happened to
Mr. Burns, we used a combination of oatmeal, tomato soup and this rust remover (starts pouring it in). You should probably close your eyes and mouths, it could get very toxic.
Lenny: Oh great! Oatmeal. One of the few things I’m actually allergic to.
Carl: Just shutup, ya doofus.
Homer (happily trotting around): The day I’ve been waiting for since 3 weeks ago. Ah yes, and a little treat to go along with it (retrieves his waffles now in the dog dish and begins chomping them down)
Marge: Is it beef jerky 50% off day at the Kwik-E-Mart?
Lisa: I’m gonna say they’ve brought back Baywatch in some form or another.
Bart: I’ll go with Hobo’s-R-Us garage sale down on 3rd and 84th.
Homer: Even better. I get a day off work. Except for a few dummies who showed up early, we all get a break for once.
Bart: Yeah, that’s all great dad but you take days off on your own time every week. You'd be the "Titanic" at the All-time Laziest Americans awards banquet... if it existed.
(Homer groans as his family takes shots at his character some more)
Lisa: Yeah, I mean what’s another day off to you? If it weren't for the remote control, your hand-eye co-ordination IQ would be 0. Besides, you’ll just waste it, rotting away in the slovenly, suburban decay of American life.
Homer: What do I care? That's been the theme of my life fer crying out loud.
Lisa: True, but... um. Uuh... (groans)
Bart: He’s got you there, Lis. Wow, dad actually won an argument with Lisa. Scary stuff.
(Creepy music plays, Homer looks around frightened)
Homer: Oh my god, the music is right. That is scary (creepy music again) Aaaah!!! It’s like John Williams can read our minds this very moment! What do we do? What do we do? (hits the floor sobbing)
(Bart, Lisa and Marge look at each other worriedly then all run out of the room as Homer cowers in fear)
(Homer hears them talking in another room, then we see them)
Marge: Geez, your father can be so hopeless sometimes. I guess that's one of his most charming traits... unfortunately.
Lisa: Well it's comforting to know that unlike most of my schoolmates, my father isn't even capable of grounding me.
Bart: Lis, it's hard to ground people when your brain is off in the clouds, heheh. That's dad for ya. Remember when he tried to teach Santa's Little Helper to play dead?
Lisa: (sarcastically) Yeah, he really cracked the whip there. By the end of it, Santa's Little Helper was drinking from both the toilet AND the pitcher of OJ.
(They all chuckle)
(Homer's face goes a range of emotions while listening to this from the kitchen until he hangs his head and walks into the living room to watch TV)
(Homer watching TV)
Homer: Hmmm, at least TV has always been good to me. Unlike my family. Buncha disrespectful know-it-alls. Who are they to tell me I’m wasting my life? I can find that out without their help! They don’t respect me, that’s the problem here. Especially that old coot I have to call “dad.”
Grandpa: Hey, I’m right here! Just because I seem dead sometimes doesn’t mean I should be invisible to others! (pause, desperately) Does it? Quick, what am I doing right now (begins making funny faces and goofs around with his dentures).
Homer: Ugh, put your dentures back in... (grudgingly) Dad.
Grandpa: Oh good. It wasn’t another out of body experience. From now on, I’m prepared for those scary situations! (pulls out pills that say existentialisin) (Homer doesn’t react) Hello? Heelllooo? (Homer ignoring him still) Hey! Bonehead! You didn’t even invite me for this special breakfast! Luckily, your wife did. Mmmm, she can sure make good poached corn.
Homer: (sarcastically) Aw, how nice of her. You know, I wish I could make this house what it’s supposed to be; my own personal kindgom.
Grandpa: Oh that’ll never happen. You gotta be a disciplinarian to get it! Take charge with your disrespectful kids and your independent-thinking wife. It’s what made the 40s and 50s a golden age in America. President Grant didn’t back down to those Communist railroad splitters at the Congress of Vienna, so tagnabit we didn’t back down from our nosy kids either. You (pointing at Homer) have gotta learn how to crack the whip! Lay down the law!
Homer: Since when are you that kind of guy?
Grandpa: Well, I would’ve been if raising you hadn’t had taken all the fire outta my belly. And when your mom left, well then I really deteriorated. I used to be quite the fearful figure before my 40s. That’s when I said goodbye to being fit as a brand new fiddle and hello to as busted as an old banjo (hangs head).
Homer: Right. (mutters under his breath) Let's see if TV makes more sense than the old man.
(flips channels, stops at CNN)
Panel guest: You know, Aaron. I really have no idea what the hell that’s supposed to mean!
Homer: (worriedly groans)
(turns to FOX NEWS)
Guest: That comment by the Senator makes as little sense as calling our President’s foreign poelicy (uses quote signs) “unsuccessful.”
Homer: (panicky groans) Come on, 240 channels and this is it?
(to FOX)
Announcer: To keep up in the ratings and make sure we’re still the no. 1 source for the trashiest programming out there, FOX introduces a new, tired spin on an old tired format. It’s Husband Swap! (shows picture of Flanders and Cleetus) We’ve switched these two papa’s and let’s see how they did on their first day in their new environment.
(at Flanders home)
Rod: It’s time for our hourly prayers, Mr. Cleetus.
Cleetus: (holding the toaster) Hey, nobody fed this here critter yet. How y’all run this place without a good ol trusty electric generator?
Tod: First we have to read Luke 12:15 and then you have to get dinner ready.
Cleetus: Awright, then. After we's meet Luke at 12:15, what’s say we fry up a juicy squirrel from the backyard!?
Rod (turning to Tod): I’m scared, Tod. Is God testing us?
Tod: I hope so. This man is what daddy would call a primitive pagan waste of space.
(at Cleetus’ house, kids running around crazy)
Flanders: (making frightened noises) Now kids, I didn’t say play time I said prayer time.
Brandine: Theys don’t know no prayers.
Flanders: They don’t? Oh, may Jesus have mercy on this house.
Brandine: Jesus? Why, he’s that immigrant fellow who we gets our tomaters from! He ain’t got no reason to hate us.
Flanders: (sighs) Good lord, this place must be sinking deeper into hell.
Brandine: You’s right there (stomps on the ground, house shakes and sinks further down). Now it’s time to hit the bedroom (points at big doghouse with mattress in it). We’s need a smart, city-type youngun and you looks like you got a great genes pool.
(Flanders screams and runs off)
Flanders: I’ve tried to lead by example but... they don’t even have a church for miles around and there’s no car. We have to ride a warthog just to get down to the river for bathing time. This is my only communication with the outside world (holds up battered license plate and broken 1980s cellular phone).
Cleetus: Well, sure is a purdy old shack. But Ned sure has some crazy habits (holds up deodorant and shaving cream). He’s a strange one, he is. And his kids theys don’t have no idea how to save da valuables (holds up a container full of trash found on the sidewalk).
Homer: (laughs) Stupid Flanders. Hey, that explains all those vans and cables that were there. Hehehe, much cheaper than going to the electronics store (pans out to reveal living room is full of camera lights, various TV film equipment, cables and tripods holding various household appliances).
Grandpa: You with your brain fixated on that idiot box. One of my neighbours at the Retirement home has a nephew who can help you out. HE’S doing something worthwhile with his life. Maybe you can at least be a real master of the household before your kids bail out on you and your wife leaves ya for some young buck. (hands him card)
Homer: Morty the Mortician’s Funeral Parlour? You’ve been making plans behind my back!?... Oh, and this is the wrong card.
Grandpa: Oh, here you go (hands him the right one)
Homer: Chuck Larson, former drill sargent, fatherly instructor at Gold’s Gym and part-time manicurist. (Homer stands up) I’ll do it! Thanks for the advice, dad (walks off)
Grandpa: Uh oh, temporary paralysis again (he slides off the couch and falls down)
(the next day, Bart & Lisa watching TV, they find Grandmpa)
Grandpa: Oh, good, finally. Please kids, just poke me with my cane (they poke him and he gets up) Well, what's for dinner?
Bart: Grandpa, it's 4 P.M. the day after.
Grandpa: Ooo, what am I doing here then? It's that time of week where us folks at the retirement home go on a field trip to the drug store. (he leaves)
Krusty: Hey kids, guess what? This is our last show before Krusty gets a 2 week holiday. Just going in for a little repair on the plastic surgey snafu from last month you might've read about in Us Weekly... Lousy, cheap Hollywood cosmetic surgeons.
(smiling, begins talking weird) Oh great, it’s frozen again. Ugggh, anyway here’s Itchy & Scratcy (Turns around to have a cigarette, accidentally swallows it due to his facial muscular problems and begins choking on it as stagehands rush in to give him the heimlick)
(I&S is a cartoon called “In Cat’s Blood,” spoofing the Truman Capote book and this is a take on the gallows scene from Capote. Everyone is crowded around the gallows where they go to hang Perry Smith. Scratchy is the guy being hanged, Itchy has glasses and slicked back hair with a drink in his hand like Capote. Before they put the bag on his head, Itchy runs over to the area and says “No, wait!” He goes up to Scratchy and Scratchy says “Thank you for being the only friend I have!”
Itchy says “You’re welcome” but then splashes his drink into Scratchy’s eyes but it turns out to be acid thus burning his eyes out, then he pulls out an ice cube that he pressed down on to reveal it's an ice pick -much like a switchblade- and he stabs Scratchy with it. Then he ties Scratchy’s neck, legs and arms to ropes, takes the slack from each and ties them to a bull outside who he whips, the bull runs off and begins to stretch Scratchy who then is snapped like a slingshot up through the roof and up into the sky.
A battered Scratchy thankfully lands in a hot air balloon and he is relieved but then screams as an airplane’s jet propellers eat the balloon right up with Scratchy inside. Everyone outside below, including Itchy, then gleefully party while dancing in the rain of blood and gore. Then Itchy says “Free first editions for everyone” as he throws out copies of his book that say “In Cat’s Blood” by Truman Capitchy).
(Bart & Lisa laugh heartily as Homer walks by with a gym bag, wearing a headband tight XL t-shirt and sweat pants)
Bart: Whoa, dad! I thought you weren’t on parole anymore. What kind of community service they got you doing now?
Homer: Shutup, boy.
Lisa: (shocked) It looks he like he’s going to work out at a gym.
Bart: With that outfit? I'd say more like going to try shed some pounds as one of Richard Simmons foodbag dancers.
Homer: (chewing on a chicken wing all of a sudden then he gets upset) I'll foodbag you! Why you little... (chokes him)
Bart: (gasping out words, gagging in between) But... that... makes... me... proud (Homer begins easing up)... Of you.
Homer: Oh. Really? You mean it?
Bart: Yeah (pause). It tells me you’re clearly aware of your monstrous weight problem.
(Homer stops smiling and gets an angry face again)
Homer: Grrrrr!!!
(chases Bart through the living room until Homer stops when Marge walks up causing him to improvise his reasoning, yelling upstairs “Don’t run away, son! I just wanted to hug you for the A you got in your... uh, weather experiment... thingy... your teacher told me when I found her passed out on the floor at Moe’s!”)
Marge: Oh, good for Bart. That’s very sweet of you, Homey. (begins giggling) What’s with the getup (giggles again)?
Homer: Aw geez, I’m getting mocked at every turn. This is why I’m going out in the first place.
Marge: Going where? (suspicious) And what for?
Homer: Oh nothing, it’d just flair up that PMS of yours again.
(Marge does her trademark disapproving groan)
Homer: (gets his shirt caught on a nail) D’oh! This is the last time I shop at Costco on 50% off day. Look at this crap (begins pulling on a thread and the whole T-shirt falls to shreds)
Marge: Oh come on. I give you gym equipment for Christmas nearly ever year and you promise to wear it but you never do.
Homer: Please, Marge. Don’t give me that. It’s the same old (as he rambles Marge opens the closet and boxes of clothes pour out. Marge stands impatiently tapping her foot) excuses from... you... You always... Oh fine you win! (Homer grabs a box to go change)
(now changed Homer walks out the front door)
Marge: Will you be back for dinner? I’m making three-meat, three-cheese, three-sauce lasagna just for you!
Homer: (drools) Oh yeah. (snaps out of it, then regretfully says) No, sorry. I’ve gotta stick to my guns here. Just leave 3/4 of what you make in the oven and I’ll eat it when I get home in the morning.
Marge: Morning? But it's only 5 in the afternoon right now.
Homer: Uh, yeah. It’s an intense workout.
Marge: Oh my. Try not to have any heart attacks or chest pains. Remember what Dr. Hibbert says, if you feel dizzy count to 10 and take a cold shower.
Homer: But that’s what Dr. Nick said.
Marge: Dr. Nick, Dr. Hibbert. What’s the difference anymore?
(Homer driving to the gym listening to satellite radio, the song is just a series of high-pitched opera singing and weird Italian wording and sounds of sinks and toilets flushing)
Radio DJ (in that distinctive Harry Shearer voice if you can imagine for a moment): And that of course was the rare 20-minute alternate take of “Bohemian Rhapsody” recorded by Queen in a washroom stall during a tour stop in Wales back in 1974.
Homer: Wow, I can hear almost anything I want on this new doohickey. Hehe, who doesn’t have a show on Satellite radio? (begins flipping channels, one is introduced as “The King Biscuit Hans Moleman Flower Power Hour”)
Moleman: (in his old, slow manner) Well. This delightful Chipmunks song hit the charts in the summer of 1971. Alvin had recently checked out of rehab, and... oops. Oh dear (sound of mike falling and hitting Moleman) Oh no. (then we see Moleman on the floor in the studio) The microphone has pinned me to the floor again. My engineer and producer appear to have fallen asleep. Oooh, somebody’d better get here in and help me. At least in the next 10 minutes or I start developing blood clots.
(Homer pulls into Gold’s Gym and walks in looking around at the various rooms for courses; one door reads “The Barry Bonds Super Strength-Training Experience” and inside Homer sees tables with various chemical products, syringes, pill containers/jars strewn around but just then some guy comes by smiling defensively as he puts sheets over the incriminating evidence and he shuts the door).
(Another open door reading “This Hurts Me a Lot More Than it Hurts You: The Masochist’s Guide to Getting Fit” reveals teachers demonstrating bench press)
Teacher: Now, if you want your partner in this to really feel the burn, make sure the bar goes right down across the face where the razor blades can do the real damage.
Capt. McCallister: Gar! But what about if ye be wanting to use yer bar on a killer whale that ye nary see in the weight room?
Other teacher (with several stitches and wearing some casts and splints) walks over): You’re in the wrong class, Captain. You want “Seafaring 101: The Art of Using Weights Underwater” in the pool one floor up (water begins leaking down) Uh oh, another crack in the floor.
McCallister: Arrr, sounds like an adventure 20,000 leagues under the deep end.
(Homer finds a door saying “Becoming Master of the Household, aka Learning how to Stop Being a Pansy Dad”)
Homer: Pansy? Oh, that’s not me. I guess this is the wrong one.
Chuck Larson: Homer Simpson? Welcome. You’re 5 minutes late, but your grandpa told me to expect that.
(He’s standing in front a group of students sitting on the mats that includes Flanders, Cleetus, Apu, Wiggum, Burns w/Smithers of course, Kirk Van Houten, Barney-don’t worry I’ll explain it later)
Homer: You know who I am? Oh my God! You’re the man who’s been sending me those strange man-crush letters!
Larson: Uh, no. That’d be MacNamera over there! (points to a guy waving longingly at Homer, winking)
Homer: (now not so worried about that) Oh, whatever. Sorry about that. How did you know it was me?
Larson: Oh your grandpa also told me to watch for the guy who looked like him but younger, less wrinkly, bald and sporting 40 more pounds.
Homer: I’m surprised my dad even knew that much about me! Hey wait, you were a drill sergant, weren’t you?
Larson: Correct. I can also do your nails for you... If... If you’re into that kinda thing. Like MacNamera over there.
Homer: Sir, no, sir!
Larson: (chuckles a bit) Good one, Homer. But you don’t need to be like a soldier of the army or anythi-
Homer: Permission to speak, sir!
Larson: Homer you don’t-
Homer: Sir, thank you, sir! (thinking “Oh no, he’s getting mad. He’s gonna make you scrub the floor with your toothbrush. Let’s think here!”)
Larson: Look, can you just-
Homer: Order understood (runs over to equipment) 10 pull-ups pronto! (Homer attempts one, sweating profusely, grunting, wheezing, etc.) Al-most there! (pulls the entire contraption down nearly breaking it)
Larson: (smacks his forehead) This guy’s a father!? What’s sad is that he’s the most surprisingly unfit person to be a dad so far.
(everyone's confused, they look over at Kerney)
Kerney: Meh, you’d be surprised how often I hear that.
“Homer the Taskmaster”
(Homer walking around confused at breakfast)
Homer: Hmmm... I give up, Marge. Where did you hide them?
Marge: Hide what? Oh, you haven’t been watching that video tape of “Magic Secrets Revealed,” have you?
Homer: No, it’s has nothing to do with my ever-improving magic skills (Homer flashes some cards). But the offer is still open for you to crawl inside this picnic basket (holds it up) and I’ve got the ginsu sword all ready! (happily gestures) Huh?
Marge: Yeah sure, I'll get in the basket (rolls her eyes). As if... (enthusiastically) Isn't that what they say in that hip recent film Clueless? Isn't it? Huh?
Homer: You mean Clue? That movie made Sherlock Holmes look like some kind of Limey detective. Oh boy, that was a fun board game too.
Marge: Yes, yes it was. Before you broke it with a magic trick last week. Please, you think you can be a magician but it's obvious you're not cut out for it. A magician wouldn't have turned our last pet into turtle soup with some silly ginsu trick.
Homer: Yeah, then we got that new one guaranteed to be the best pet ever. Pfft, talk about advertising fraud. I let him run away, but don't tell the kids. Stupid turtle. Though he did find these in the ravine (holds up containers marked "For Mr. Hoffa).
Marge: What was it you were looking for, Homie? Just sit and eat your breakfast.
Homer: That’s the point. You’ve got my bacon, toast, juice but Marge, giving everyone else waffles and not me is way too harsh just because I misplaced your grandma’s ashes.
(Cat in the basement claws at leaky pipe, ashes spill out and engulf it)
Marge: No it’s not revenge, Homer. I cooked up 5 waffles for you. And in the shapes of your heroes of TV (waffles look like 3 stooges, Rerun and Bob Saget on Homer’s behind)
(Homer turns around, dog is eating waffles off his backside)
Homer: Stupid mutt! Off! Off, I said!
(Dog rolls his eyes) (barks like he’s indifferent to Homer’s commands, cat walks on table and coughs up fleas onto Homer's plate)
Homer: What the hell? Eeeeewww.
Homer: (picks up phone and yells) KALL is the one that rocks my socks off! (dejectedly) Oh, it’s the Nuclear Power Plant? Oh, ok.
Smithers: Yes, well don’t come in today Simpson. We have a crisis situation here today and we already have enough of those who showed up early to help out.
Burns (covered in lesions in a tub): (moans) Smithers! These ninkumpoops are causing me unecessary irritation.
Smithers: You fools, use the silk sponges, not the cotton ones.
(Lenny and Carl dressed up in contamination suits scrubbing Burns in a tub)
Carl: Fine, fine. Gosh, if I’d had known the clocks were set back an hour I wouldn’t have wound up here at 6:30 A.M. Usually, my informer on these things TELLS me beforehand!
Lenny: I lost my calendar, trust me. There was a blustery draft one day and...
Smithers: Less talk and more scrubbing. Now, the last time this happened to
Mr. Burns, we used a combination of oatmeal, tomato soup and this rust remover (starts pouring it in). You should probably close your eyes and mouths, it could get very toxic.
Lenny: Oh great! Oatmeal. One of the few things I’m actually allergic to.
Carl: Just shutup, ya doofus.
Homer (happily trotting around): The day I’ve been waiting for since 3 weeks ago. Ah yes, and a little treat to go along with it (retrieves his waffles now in the dog dish and begins chomping them down)
Marge: Is it beef jerky 50% off day at the Kwik-E-Mart?
Lisa: I’m gonna say they’ve brought back Baywatch in some form or another.
Bart: I’ll go with Hobo’s-R-Us garage sale down on 3rd and 84th.
Homer: Even better. I get a day off work. Except for a few dummies who showed up early, we all get a break for once.
Bart: Yeah, that’s all great dad but you take days off on your own time every week. You'd be the "Titanic" at the All-time Laziest Americans awards banquet... if it existed.
(Homer groans as his family takes shots at his character some more)
Lisa: Yeah, I mean what’s another day off to you? If it weren't for the remote control, your hand-eye co-ordination IQ would be 0. Besides, you’ll just waste it, rotting away in the slovenly, suburban decay of American life.
Homer: What do I care? That's been the theme of my life fer crying out loud.
Lisa: True, but... um. Uuh... (groans)
Bart: He’s got you there, Lis. Wow, dad actually won an argument with Lisa. Scary stuff.
(Creepy music plays, Homer looks around frightened)
Homer: Oh my god, the music is right. That is scary (creepy music again) Aaaah!!! It’s like John Williams can read our minds this very moment! What do we do? What do we do? (hits the floor sobbing)
(Bart, Lisa and Marge look at each other worriedly then all run out of the room as Homer cowers in fear)
(Homer hears them talking in another room, then we see them)
Marge: Geez, your father can be so hopeless sometimes. I guess that's one of his most charming traits... unfortunately.
Lisa: Well it's comforting to know that unlike most of my schoolmates, my father isn't even capable of grounding me.
Bart: Lis, it's hard to ground people when your brain is off in the clouds, heheh. That's dad for ya. Remember when he tried to teach Santa's Little Helper to play dead?
Lisa: (sarcastically) Yeah, he really cracked the whip there. By the end of it, Santa's Little Helper was drinking from both the toilet AND the pitcher of OJ.
(They all chuckle)
(Homer's face goes a range of emotions while listening to this from the kitchen until he hangs his head and walks into the living room to watch TV)
(Homer watching TV)
Homer: Hmmm, at least TV has always been good to me. Unlike my family. Buncha disrespectful know-it-alls. Who are they to tell me I’m wasting my life? I can find that out without their help! They don’t respect me, that’s the problem here. Especially that old coot I have to call “dad.”
Grandpa: Hey, I’m right here! Just because I seem dead sometimes doesn’t mean I should be invisible to others! (pause, desperately) Does it? Quick, what am I doing right now (begins making funny faces and goofs around with his dentures).
Homer: Ugh, put your dentures back in... (grudgingly) Dad.
Grandpa: Oh good. It wasn’t another out of body experience. From now on, I’m prepared for those scary situations! (pulls out pills that say existentialisin) (Homer doesn’t react) Hello? Heelllooo? (Homer ignoring him still) Hey! Bonehead! You didn’t even invite me for this special breakfast! Luckily, your wife did. Mmmm, she can sure make good poached corn.
Homer: (sarcastically) Aw, how nice of her. You know, I wish I could make this house what it’s supposed to be; my own personal kindgom.
Grandpa: Oh that’ll never happen. You gotta be a disciplinarian to get it! Take charge with your disrespectful kids and your independent-thinking wife. It’s what made the 40s and 50s a golden age in America. President Grant didn’t back down to those Communist railroad splitters at the Congress of Vienna, so tagnabit we didn’t back down from our nosy kids either. You (pointing at Homer) have gotta learn how to crack the whip! Lay down the law!
Homer: Since when are you that kind of guy?
Grandpa: Well, I would’ve been if raising you hadn’t had taken all the fire outta my belly. And when your mom left, well then I really deteriorated. I used to be quite the fearful figure before my 40s. That’s when I said goodbye to being fit as a brand new fiddle and hello to as busted as an old banjo (hangs head).
Homer: Right. (mutters under his breath) Let's see if TV makes more sense than the old man.
(flips channels, stops at CNN)
Panel guest: You know, Aaron. I really have no idea what the hell that’s supposed to mean!
Homer: (worriedly groans)
(turns to FOX NEWS)
Guest: That comment by the Senator makes as little sense as calling our President’s foreign poelicy (uses quote signs) “unsuccessful.”
Homer: (panicky groans) Come on, 240 channels and this is it?
(to FOX)
Announcer: To keep up in the ratings and make sure we’re still the no. 1 source for the trashiest programming out there, FOX introduces a new, tired spin on an old tired format. It’s Husband Swap! (shows picture of Flanders and Cleetus) We’ve switched these two papa’s and let’s see how they did on their first day in their new environment.
(at Flanders home)
Rod: It’s time for our hourly prayers, Mr. Cleetus.
Cleetus: (holding the toaster) Hey, nobody fed this here critter yet. How y’all run this place without a good ol trusty electric generator?
Tod: First we have to read Luke 12:15 and then you have to get dinner ready.
Cleetus: Awright, then. After we's meet Luke at 12:15, what’s say we fry up a juicy squirrel from the backyard!?
Rod (turning to Tod): I’m scared, Tod. Is God testing us?
Tod: I hope so. This man is what daddy would call a primitive pagan waste of space.
(at Cleetus’ house, kids running around crazy)
Flanders: (making frightened noises) Now kids, I didn’t say play time I said prayer time.
Brandine: Theys don’t know no prayers.
Flanders: They don’t? Oh, may Jesus have mercy on this house.
Brandine: Jesus? Why, he’s that immigrant fellow who we gets our tomaters from! He ain’t got no reason to hate us.
Flanders: (sighs) Good lord, this place must be sinking deeper into hell.
Brandine: You’s right there (stomps on the ground, house shakes and sinks further down). Now it’s time to hit the bedroom (points at big doghouse with mattress in it). We’s need a smart, city-type youngun and you looks like you got a great genes pool.
(Flanders screams and runs off)
Flanders: I’ve tried to lead by example but... they don’t even have a church for miles around and there’s no car. We have to ride a warthog just to get down to the river for bathing time. This is my only communication with the outside world (holds up battered license plate and broken 1980s cellular phone).
Cleetus: Well, sure is a purdy old shack. But Ned sure has some crazy habits (holds up deodorant and shaving cream). He’s a strange one, he is. And his kids theys don’t have no idea how to save da valuables (holds up a container full of trash found on the sidewalk).
Homer: (laughs) Stupid Flanders. Hey, that explains all those vans and cables that were there. Hehehe, much cheaper than going to the electronics store (pans out to reveal living room is full of camera lights, various TV film equipment, cables and tripods holding various household appliances).
Grandpa: You with your brain fixated on that idiot box. One of my neighbours at the Retirement home has a nephew who can help you out. HE’S doing something worthwhile with his life. Maybe you can at least be a real master of the household before your kids bail out on you and your wife leaves ya for some young buck. (hands him card)
Homer: Morty the Mortician’s Funeral Parlour? You’ve been making plans behind my back!?... Oh, and this is the wrong card.
Grandpa: Oh, here you go (hands him the right one)
Homer: Chuck Larson, former drill sargent, fatherly instructor at Gold’s Gym and part-time manicurist. (Homer stands up) I’ll do it! Thanks for the advice, dad (walks off)
Grandpa: Uh oh, temporary paralysis again (he slides off the couch and falls down)
(the next day, Bart & Lisa watching TV, they find Grandmpa)
Grandpa: Oh, good, finally. Please kids, just poke me with my cane (they poke him and he gets up) Well, what's for dinner?
Bart: Grandpa, it's 4 P.M. the day after.
Grandpa: Ooo, what am I doing here then? It's that time of week where us folks at the retirement home go on a field trip to the drug store. (he leaves)
Krusty: Hey kids, guess what? This is our last show before Krusty gets a 2 week holiday. Just going in for a little repair on the plastic surgey snafu from last month you might've read about in Us Weekly... Lousy, cheap Hollywood cosmetic surgeons.
(smiling, begins talking weird) Oh great, it’s frozen again. Ugggh, anyway here’s Itchy & Scratcy (Turns around to have a cigarette, accidentally swallows it due to his facial muscular problems and begins choking on it as stagehands rush in to give him the heimlick)
(I&S is a cartoon called “In Cat’s Blood,” spoofing the Truman Capote book and this is a take on the gallows scene from Capote. Everyone is crowded around the gallows where they go to hang Perry Smith. Scratchy is the guy being hanged, Itchy has glasses and slicked back hair with a drink in his hand like Capote. Before they put the bag on his head, Itchy runs over to the area and says “No, wait!” He goes up to Scratchy and Scratchy says “Thank you for being the only friend I have!”
Itchy says “You’re welcome” but then splashes his drink into Scratchy’s eyes but it turns out to be acid thus burning his eyes out, then he pulls out an ice cube that he pressed down on to reveal it's an ice pick -much like a switchblade- and he stabs Scratchy with it. Then he ties Scratchy’s neck, legs and arms to ropes, takes the slack from each and ties them to a bull outside who he whips, the bull runs off and begins to stretch Scratchy who then is snapped like a slingshot up through the roof and up into the sky.
A battered Scratchy thankfully lands in a hot air balloon and he is relieved but then screams as an airplane’s jet propellers eat the balloon right up with Scratchy inside. Everyone outside below, including Itchy, then gleefully party while dancing in the rain of blood and gore. Then Itchy says “Free first editions for everyone” as he throws out copies of his book that say “In Cat’s Blood” by Truman Capitchy).
(Bart & Lisa laugh heartily as Homer walks by with a gym bag, wearing a headband tight XL t-shirt and sweat pants)
Bart: Whoa, dad! I thought you weren’t on parole anymore. What kind of community service they got you doing now?
Homer: Shutup, boy.
Lisa: (shocked) It looks he like he’s going to work out at a gym.
Bart: With that outfit? I'd say more like going to try shed some pounds as one of Richard Simmons foodbag dancers.
Homer: (chewing on a chicken wing all of a sudden then he gets upset) I'll foodbag you! Why you little... (chokes him)
Bart: (gasping out words, gagging in between) But... that... makes... me... proud (Homer begins easing up)... Of you.
Homer: Oh. Really? You mean it?
Bart: Yeah (pause). It tells me you’re clearly aware of your monstrous weight problem.
(Homer stops smiling and gets an angry face again)
Homer: Grrrrr!!!
(chases Bart through the living room until Homer stops when Marge walks up causing him to improvise his reasoning, yelling upstairs “Don’t run away, son! I just wanted to hug you for the A you got in your... uh, weather experiment... thingy... your teacher told me when I found her passed out on the floor at Moe’s!”)
Marge: Oh, good for Bart. That’s very sweet of you, Homey. (begins giggling) What’s with the getup (giggles again)?
Homer: Aw geez, I’m getting mocked at every turn. This is why I’m going out in the first place.
Marge: Going where? (suspicious) And what for?
Homer: Oh nothing, it’d just flair up that PMS of yours again.
(Marge does her trademark disapproving groan)
Homer: (gets his shirt caught on a nail) D’oh! This is the last time I shop at Costco on 50% off day. Look at this crap (begins pulling on a thread and the whole T-shirt falls to shreds)
Marge: Oh come on. I give you gym equipment for Christmas nearly ever year and you promise to wear it but you never do.
Homer: Please, Marge. Don’t give me that. It’s the same old (as he rambles Marge opens the closet and boxes of clothes pour out. Marge stands impatiently tapping her foot) excuses from... you... You always... Oh fine you win! (Homer grabs a box to go change)
(now changed Homer walks out the front door)
Marge: Will you be back for dinner? I’m making three-meat, three-cheese, three-sauce lasagna just for you!
Homer: (drools) Oh yeah. (snaps out of it, then regretfully says) No, sorry. I’ve gotta stick to my guns here. Just leave 3/4 of what you make in the oven and I’ll eat it when I get home in the morning.
Marge: Morning? But it's only 5 in the afternoon right now.
Homer: Uh, yeah. It’s an intense workout.
Marge: Oh my. Try not to have any heart attacks or chest pains. Remember what Dr. Hibbert says, if you feel dizzy count to 10 and take a cold shower.
Homer: But that’s what Dr. Nick said.
Marge: Dr. Nick, Dr. Hibbert. What’s the difference anymore?
(Homer driving to the gym listening to satellite radio, the song is just a series of high-pitched opera singing and weird Italian wording and sounds of sinks and toilets flushing)
Radio DJ (in that distinctive Harry Shearer voice if you can imagine for a moment): And that of course was the rare 20-minute alternate take of “Bohemian Rhapsody” recorded by Queen in a washroom stall during a tour stop in Wales back in 1974.
Homer: Wow, I can hear almost anything I want on this new doohickey. Hehe, who doesn’t have a show on Satellite radio? (begins flipping channels, one is introduced as “The King Biscuit Hans Moleman Flower Power Hour”)
Moleman: (in his old, slow manner) Well. This delightful Chipmunks song hit the charts in the summer of 1971. Alvin had recently checked out of rehab, and... oops. Oh dear (sound of mike falling and hitting Moleman) Oh no. (then we see Moleman on the floor in the studio) The microphone has pinned me to the floor again. My engineer and producer appear to have fallen asleep. Oooh, somebody’d better get here in and help me. At least in the next 10 minutes or I start developing blood clots.
(Homer pulls into Gold’s Gym and walks in looking around at the various rooms for courses; one door reads “The Barry Bonds Super Strength-Training Experience” and inside Homer sees tables with various chemical products, syringes, pill containers/jars strewn around but just then some guy comes by smiling defensively as he puts sheets over the incriminating evidence and he shuts the door).
(Another open door reading “This Hurts Me a Lot More Than it Hurts You: The Masochist’s Guide to Getting Fit” reveals teachers demonstrating bench press)
Teacher: Now, if you want your partner in this to really feel the burn, make sure the bar goes right down across the face where the razor blades can do the real damage.
Capt. McCallister: Gar! But what about if ye be wanting to use yer bar on a killer whale that ye nary see in the weight room?
Other teacher (with several stitches and wearing some casts and splints) walks over): You’re in the wrong class, Captain. You want “Seafaring 101: The Art of Using Weights Underwater” in the pool one floor up (water begins leaking down) Uh oh, another crack in the floor.
McCallister: Arrr, sounds like an adventure 20,000 leagues under the deep end.
(Homer finds a door saying “Becoming Master of the Household, aka Learning how to Stop Being a Pansy Dad”)
Homer: Pansy? Oh, that’s not me. I guess this is the wrong one.
Chuck Larson: Homer Simpson? Welcome. You’re 5 minutes late, but your grandpa told me to expect that.
(He’s standing in front a group of students sitting on the mats that includes Flanders, Cleetus, Apu, Wiggum, Burns w/Smithers of course, Kirk Van Houten, Barney-don’t worry I’ll explain it later)
Homer: You know who I am? Oh my God! You’re the man who’s been sending me those strange man-crush letters!
Larson: Uh, no. That’d be MacNamera over there! (points to a guy waving longingly at Homer, winking)
Homer: (now not so worried about that) Oh, whatever. Sorry about that. How did you know it was me?
Larson: Oh your grandpa also told me to watch for the guy who looked like him but younger, less wrinkly, bald and sporting 40 more pounds.
Homer: I’m surprised my dad even knew that much about me! Hey wait, you were a drill sergant, weren’t you?
Larson: Correct. I can also do your nails for you... If... If you’re into that kinda thing. Like MacNamera over there.
Homer: Sir, no, sir!
Larson: (chuckles a bit) Good one, Homer. But you don’t need to be like a soldier of the army or anythi-
Homer: Permission to speak, sir!
Larson: Homer you don’t-
Homer: Sir, thank you, sir! (thinking “Oh no, he’s getting mad. He’s gonna make you scrub the floor with your toothbrush. Let’s think here!”)
Larson: Look, can you just-
Homer: Order understood (runs over to equipment) 10 pull-ups pronto! (Homer attempts one, sweating profusely, grunting, wheezing, etc.) Al-most there! (pulls the entire contraption down nearly breaking it)
Larson: (smacks his forehead) This guy’s a father!? What’s sad is that he’s the most surprisingly unfit person to be a dad so far.
(everyone's confused, they look over at Kerney)
Kerney: Meh, you’d be surprised how often I hear that.