"My Brother's Tutor" by Kyle K.
Unfortunetly, the script isn't archived on any website, and since it's on Usenet, I'll repost it here:
My Brother's Tutor, by Kyle Noskoviak (written in 1998)
<Rise from black to closeup shot of Simpson's TV>
Announcer: Tonight, on UPN: If you liked the hilarious antics of Dumb
and Dumber and find serial killer jokes sidesplittingly funny, have we
got the show for you. Jeff Daniels stars in: Dumb and Dahmer.
<Shot: Two guys sitting on couch eating, one dumb and the other a pale
Jeff Dahmer look-alike>
Dahmer (with a Hannibal Lecter-like lip smacking): I love Chinese.
Dumb Guy: You mean Chinese food.
Dahmer (tugging collar nervously): Uh, yeah.
Announcer: UPN. Please watch, we have families too you know.
<Picture changes to Kent Brockman at the newsdesk>
Brockman: Welcome back. Later in our broadcast: Shock talk shows, are
they destroying our nation's moral fabric? In our studio, two lesbian
strippers, a clinically insane drifter, and a hermaphroditic eskimo
debate the issue. But first: parents in Springfield have long
suspected that their children are far, far below average academically.
The signs were everywhere.
<Video: Ralph Wiggum at a podium>
Brockman voice-over: Poor spelling-B performance.
Male voice from offstage: The word is eclectic.
(long pause with Ralph at podium, then finally...)
Ralph: I feel itchy all over.
<Video: Milhouse standing on a table next to a crude paper mache
volcano>
Brockman VO: Lackluster Science Fairs.
Milhouse: Behold the mighty power of Pele!
(Pours the contents of a box into the top of the volcano, which fizzes
up and spills all over the floor)
Principle Skinner: (in disinterested voice) Excellent work Milhouse.
Possibly the finest baking soda and vinegar volcano here today.
<camera pans the school gym showing hundreds of paper mache volcanoes
with a loud background fizzing noise audible>
Brockman VO: And the highest incidence outside Texas of children
falling down abandoned wells.
<Video: Shot of field/forest scene with tens of visible wells and pipes
sticking up from the ground with legs and arms poking out of some.
Gentle sobbing and tiny shouts of "Mommy" and "I'm thirsty" on audio>
<Back to Brockman in studio>
Brockman: But now, as if we needed further proof that most of our
youngsters are destined for the slaughterhouse floors and industrial
kitchens of tommorow's America, today the Department of Education
released a report showing Springfield public schools falling dead last
in the state on standardized tests. Now I don't want to be a
Johnny-I-told-you-so, but viewers will recall my vocal objections some
years ago when a few "scientists" (making the quotation marks sign with
his fingers) suggested that expectant mothers refrain from alcohol
consumption. Well, we tried it their way and we have just as many
retards now as ever. So, to all the moms-to-be out there let me just
say: Nothing satisfies those pregnacy cravings like a soothing draft of
Dan Farmington's Old-Fashioned Kentucky Bourbon (Brockman retrieves a
shotglass from under the newsdesk and downs the contents). MMMmmm,
smooth as velvet.
<Later, backstage on the set>
Sleazy Corporate Guy: (handing Brockman a case of liqour bottles)
Thanks Mr. Brockman.
Brockman: Just happy to do my part for more informed TV viewing.
<Scene: Downtown Springfield. Shot of Homer sitting in car at red
light listening to Allman Brother's Jessica on the radio and humming
along. Two high school guys and their girlfriends in a Camero pull up
next to him. Industrial rock blasts from their stereo. The driver
gives Homer a sideways sneer and revs his engine. Homer does the same.
Now both engines are being reved high. We see the intersecting
stoplight change from green to yellow and finally to red as the tension
builds. Green light and Camero Boy drops his transmission and takes off
in a cloud of smoke. Homer shifts, the car lurches forward, and the
engine dies>
Homer: Doh! (Starts it, shifts, it dies) Doh! (over and over)
<POV Police Chief Wiggum as he sits in his patrol car on the cross
street with his feet up watching Homer's car lurch across the
intersection>
Wiggum: That's some mighty sad drag racing.
<Scene: Principal Skinner's Office. Lisa, Martin, the twins, and some
of the other Springfield nerds are standing around>
Skinner: You six are the only students who correctly filled in the
ovals for your names on our recent standardized test. I've called you
here because I'm instigating a tutoring program to help the unfortunate
students who are slipping through the cracks of our educational system.
Nerd: (in nasal voice) You are referring to the massive fissure in the
parking lot?
<Cut to shot of parking lot. A wooden plank spans a six-foot wide
gaping trench which cuts across the schoolyard. Students carefully edge
across the plank. Bart and a group of kids are lined up right to the
edge, all holding onto a rope which descends into the darkness.>
Bart: (Shouting into the abyss) Milhouse, do you see the ball yet?
(pause) Milhouse?
Milhouse: (very faint) Bart, I don't think I'm alone down here!
(slithering sounds)
<Back to Skinner's office>
Skinner: No, I was refering to the metaphorical cracks in the system.
Unfortunately, the budget is tight so we can't afford to hire any
experienced tutors, and the teachers spend most of their free time
grading papers and drafting lesson plans.
<Cut to outside shot of door to teacher's lounge. We hear Funky Cold
Madina from inside and through the frosted glass see figures dancing
around. Someone exclaims, "Edna, you've got to give me the recipe for
this Sangria!">
<Back to Skinner's Office>
Skinner: Therefore, I was hoping some of you might like to volunteer to
help your more dim-witted classmates.
Lisa: Peer tutoring sounds like a wonderful idea. It's the perfect
activity to plump out those community service blanks on college
applications.
<Pause, with everyone staring at Lisa>
Lisa: (chuckling nervously) That is, when we start worrying about
college.
Skinner: Well great! Let's match you up with someone from our large
pool of dumm...ah, academically challenged students. Here's a charming
lad from the fourth grade, but you shouldn't have any problem with the
coursework. His name is Bart Simpson.
Lisa: (shocked) Bart! You want me to tutor my brother? But, but he's
untutorable!
Skinner: Pish posh, he just needs a little guidance in...(looking at
Bart's file)...math, composition, American History...well, essentially
everything but phy ed and lunch. No, wait, make that lunch only.
<Scene: Homer is driving through the neighborhood>
Homer: Oop, almost home.
<He blares the horn repeatedly and leans out the window to yell>
Homer: Bart! Marge! I'm a'comin'
<Cut to Simpson kitchen>
Marge: Sounds like your Dad's back from work.
Bart: I'll handle it today.
<Bart walks to garage, props an old mattress against the far wall, and
stacks some tires in front of it>
<Back to Homer in car. A cinderblock tied to a chain sits on the seat
next to him and the chain is attached to the rear bumper. Homer heaves
the block out the passenger-side window and it drags along behind,
tearing up the asphalt>
Homer: Now for phase two.
<He grabs a two by four from the back seat, leans out the window, and
jams the board between the front tire and the wheelwell. Terrible
squealing noise>
<Bart POV from inside garage. Homer cruises up driveway slowly, holding
board in place and dragging the cinderblock. The car coasts into the
garage and strikes the padded wall with some force. Homer's head
snappes forward and blats the horn, but he gets out unfazed>
Bart: Brakes still not working Dad?
Homer: (Grunt and dismissive wave)
Marge: (peaks head in) You told me you were going to get the car fixed
today.
Homer: It's such a minor inconvience I just keep forgetting all about
it (He forcibly prys the board out of the wheelwell and one side has a
solid black rubber coating).
<Scene: Bart's room. Lisa and Bart present>
Lisa: If I'm going to tutor you, I'll need to familiarize myself with
your textbooks.
Bart: In this age of digital multimedia, are textbooks really relevant
anymore?
Lisa: Come on Bart, I'm serious.
<Bart hops off bed and pulls it away from wall. Underneath is a pile of
junk. Bart digs into it and eventually pulls out a stack of books.>
Bart: Here ya go, sis.
Lisa: Still in their original shrink wrap I see.
Bart: I was told they hold their value better if you don't open them.
Lisa: Now I talked to your teacher, and she said that you have an essay
due tomorrow on what situations justify armed revolt. How's that
coming?
Bart: I'd say it's in the formative stages.
Lisa: You're going to work on it tonight though, right?
Bart: Can't do Lis. Milhouse's mom bought him a potato gun and we're
going to break it in tonight down at the wharf.
Lisa: (plaintive) But Bart, do you think the paper is just going to
write itself?
Bart: That guy in church always says that all a miracle needs is a
little faith. See ya tommorow sis. (Climbs out window)
<Later, Lisa still in Bart's room pacing around and muttering>
Lisa: Stupid Bart, serves him right to fail. Piddly little two-page
essay. And such an easy topic: When violent uprising is and isn't
justified. He could have talked about Ghandi and the nonviolent
resistors or the French Revolution. Hmmm, I ought to write some of this
down for when I take that class.
<Shot of clock. Five minutes pass>
Lisa: (Standing and stretching) Ehm, not the best ten-page persuasive
essay I've ever written, but it does the job. (Stands, yawns deeply,
and slogs out of room turning off lights. The essay remains on the
bed. Time passes and we see the light in the room change to morning
light. The window opens and Bart crawls back in bleary-eyed. He lays
down and immediately from downstairs we hear Marge calling, "Bart, the
bus is waiting!". Bart, groaning, slides everything on the bed,
pencils, books, folders, and the essay, into his bag and slogs
downstairs.)
<Scene: At a mechanic's shop. Mechanic is talking to Homer by the
family sedan>
Mechanic: Well, the bearings are shot, the tires are as bald as you
are, and from what I can tell, it looks like you've been using discarded
deep-fryer grease as a motor oil. (They get down on all fours to examine
the oil being drained into a bucket. Homer sticks his finger into the
stream and licks it)
Homer: MMMmmmm, onion rings. (Standing) Look, how much is this all
gonna cost me?
Mechanic: Let me put it this way: you'd be better off buying a used
car than trying to fix up this one.
Homer: (indignant) Oh really? Well, when I want automobile advice,
I'll consult a mechanic. Good day sir. (Jumps in car and turns key.
Nothing happens. Keeps trying and trying).
Mechanic: Would you like us to put the spark plugs back in before you
go?
Homer: (dignified voice) If you feel that's absolutely necessary.
<Scene: Krabappel's classroom>
Krabappel: Allright children, please hand in your essays. (Comes to
Bart's desk). Bart, shall I assume that your house burned down again,
destroying your homework?
Bart: (pretending to frantically look through bag) I had it in here
before. You know, that beady-eyed Lithuanian exchange student was
hanging around my locker earlier. I bet he stole it to use
as...(Surprised) What the?... (pulls out stack of paper)
Krabappel: (reading) The Role of Violence in Social Movements: A
Historical Perspective. Good Lord Bart, did you actually write this?
Bart: That all depends on how you define the word "did".
Krabappel: Bart, this reeks of fraud, but let me run it through my
plagerism checker just to be sure. (Goes to computer and screen comes
up with program intro screen: COPY CATch Plagerism Detection
Software--"This program is 14% novel code". Krabappel types in a few
lines from Bart's paper) Oh my, it's clean! Well, this is a momentous
day for our class. Even Nelson turned in an essay. (Reading Nelson's
essay) When in the course of human events... (thoughtful tone) Now why
does that sound so familiar?
<Scene: Car dealership. Homer gets out of the family car, walks a few
paces, and a
greasy-looking salesman literally pops upward from behind him>>
Salesman: I think I know what you want sir.
Homer: A peanut butter milkshake with oreos and sprinkles?
SM: (Handing him a big cup) Here you go.
Homer: Wow.
SM: But I also know what you want in a car. You want something big and
noisy, with a lot of power to compensate for your waning virility.
Homer: Oh yeahhhh.
SM: An automobile that you wouldn't be ashamed to spend the night in
when your wife kicks you out of the house for your oafish drunken
behavior.
Homer: It's like you're reading my mind. Wait a minute, are you one of
those TV psychics? Because I called your number and you said I'd
finally find a diet that works for me. You lied!
SM: I'm no psychic, just observant. Sir, I give you, the 1999
Canyonero
Grand Deluxe. (Shot of gleaming big black sport ute) Sir, this has
every feature you could possibly want in a transportation system, and
hundreds of others you're too stupid to even
think of. Hear that? (Thumping on side panel of SUV) That's two-inch
plate steel. Same stuff they use on the M1-Abrahms tank. In this
beauty you can smack pedestrians and Japanese cars with impunity and you
still get nearly seven miles to the gallon highway.
(View from interior)
SM: The Canyonero employs heated and refridgerated cup holder
technology to keep
your coffee hot and soft drinks cold.
Homer: I really prefer to drink beer when I'm driving.
SM: This is a nice feature. With our extended service contract, the
Canyonero comes with its own personal mechanic to fix those pesky
court-ordered parts recalls. (Salesman pulls lever by rear seat, which
begins rotating over to
reveal a pale mechanic crunched in a small hidden compartment)
Mechanic: (Waving) Hello.
(Seat keeps rotating, taking the man back underneath)
Mechanic: (Dejected) Oh...
SM: And of course front and side impact airbags are standard. But
here's the beauty part, these bags fill with chocolate pudding.
(Pushes a button on a remote keypad and bags deploy with a wet
sploosh. Bags come with straws embedded in them. Homer takes a suck
and smiles. MMMmmmm)
Homer: (in reverent tone) This is everything I've ever wanted from
life. How much? How much?
SM: Sir, this vehicle is practically free. With our Eternalease
program, you can drive out of here today for two thousand down and easy
monthly payments of 399 dollars.
Homer: Well, how long is the lease for?
SM: (Punching numbers into calculator) With this particular options
package, thirty-seven years. But given your apparent physical
condition, I'm guessing you won't live half that long. Then your kids
can get stuck with the payments.
Homer: (Sort of angry) That'll teach 'em. (Sad) But I don't have
that kind of money. Between food, clothes, and my Franklin Mint
Collectible Doll
addiction, I can barely afford to spend five hours a night at Moe's.
(Pointing at the family sedan, with Maggie sitting on the front seat)
What kind of trade in could I get?
SM: (Walks over to car and begins examining Maggie) Hmmm, healthy
Caucasian infant. No visible deformitities. Given the current strength
of the baby market, I could get you...eight thousand dollars.
Homer: (Pensive tone) Really? (pause) No, Marge is pretty attached
to her. How much for just the car?
SM: (Looks at car and laughs) Sir, I like your sense of humor.
How'd you like to take the Canyonero for a quick test drive?
Homer: (One eye half-shut thinking look) Test drive, eh? Let me
just move all my stuff into your car first. (Puts Maggie in Canyonero)
SM: And I'll need to hold your driver's license.
Homer: (Handing him something from his wallet) Of course.
SM: Excuse me, this isn't a driver's license. This is your picture
pasted on a tornout piece of a Wheaties box! And this isn't even your
picture, it's Sammy Sosa!
Homer: Can I have the keys now?
<Scene: Simpson table at breakfast>
Homer: Ohhhh, cars are so expensive these days. Would one of you kids
mind being mauled by a wolverine so we can sell the video to FOX?
Lisa: Dad, if you need an inexpensive car, why don't you check the
classifieds?
Homer: Mmm, good idea. Let see (shuffling paper, then reading). "SGM,
fun loving, enjoys reading Victor Hugo by firelight and beach
volleyball." Hey, me too!
Lisa: I think you'd better skip to the automobile section, Dad.
Homer: (ignoring her and still reading) Oooh, this one sounds dreamy.
(Lisa and Marge exchange worried glances)
<Scene: Krabappel's classroom>
Krabappel: Here are your graded essays class. I derived about as much
pleausure from reading them as you did from writing them. The notable
exception was Bart Simpson's paper (comes to Bart's desk).
Congratulations Bart, you got an A.
Bart: (puzzled but happy) I always thought the grading scale only went
up to C+.
<Scene: School hallway. Bart is at his locker when Nelson approaches>
Nelson: (shoving Bart) Hey Einstein.
Bart: (nervously) Hey Nelson. What's up?
Nelson: Well, the guys and I have always enjoyed beating you up, but in
the past we felt a little guilty afterward because you came off as kind
of a deliquent type. But now that we know you're a brainiac, we wanted
to get you on a regular pummeling schedule immediately. (flipping open
notepad) How are Thursday afternoons for you?
Bart: Look, I didn't write that essay, my sister did. And I'm as much
a rebel as ever. Just this morning I covered the brushes on
Groundskeeper Willy's floor buffer with 36 grit sandpaper.
<Shot of gymnasium. Willy in center court standing by floor buffer>
Willy: Allright Bonny, Lut's have a little music tu work by.
(Willy puts a cassette into a player strapped onto the machine. Bagpipe
music fills the gym. He flips the on switch and the machine immediately
bores a hole through the hardwood floor and drags Willy down into the
blackness. We hear a crash and the music abruptly stops)
<Scene: In the driveway of the Tall Man (from Twenty-two Short Films
About Springfield). Homer and the Tall Man stand near the tiny
subcompact from TTSFAS>
Homer: So why are you selling it?
Tall Man: My booming homemade birdfeeder business has allowed me to
upgrade to a larger automobile. I found people often laughed at me when
I drove this one.
Homer: Oh, because of your haircut.
Tall Man: What? No...because...
Homer: (interupting) The nerdy glasses?
Tall Man: No! Because I am of substantial height and this is a rather
small car. Would you like to get in? (opening door)
Homer: Don't mind if I do.
(We see Tall Man watching Homer get in, but we don't see Homer. We hear
him though, grunting, cursing, and such. Goes on for several seconds.
The horn blares once, then continues to sound)
Tall Man: Shall I call the fire department now?
(Shot of Homer jammed into the car upside down and wedged between seat
and steering wheel, arms and legs bent all directions at crazy angles)
Homer: (in dignifed voice): Please do, but be descreet.
<Scene: Krusty the Klown's house. View from slightly above as Homer
and Krusty stand in driveway alongside a very goofy-looking clown car
with bright, swirled coloration and a big red clown nose for a hood
ornament>
Krusty: I hate to get rid of her, but the station bought me a real
cherry luxury automobile. Finally I won't be embarassed to drive around
town.
<A large flatbed truck pulls up hauling a Texas oil tycoon-sized clown
car with equally bright swirled colors>
Truck Driver: Krusty the Klown?
Krusty: Hey Hey! (jumps onto truckbed by car. He sticks his head in
the car's window and inhales deeply) Oh yeah, you can smell the class!
(He turns a control and we see two clown flowers squirt window washer
fluid onto the windsheld).
<Scene: Hans Moleman's carhole. A vintage black Lincoln Continental
sits inside>
Moleman: I haven't had it out of the garage for twenty years.
Homer: Wow, look at the size of this trunk!
Moleman: It has a trunk?
<POV: inside trunk. Darkness and then trunk lifts, a dust cloud drifts
upward, and we see Homer and Moleman looking in. POV shifts to Homer
and Moleman. Inside trunk is a skeleton in a molding suit. In one
corner are placards reading: "Hoffa for IBT President--1975">
<Scene: Spingfield Elementary hallway. Janie approaches Lisa at her
locker>
Janie: Hi Lisa. Say, ya know that book report due next week?
Lisa: Oh sure, I spent the weekend immersed in Kafka's The
Metamorphosis. It's a short but thoughtful existentialist tract on man
and his role...
Janie: (interupting) Really? Great. Listen, I was wondering if you
would be willing to write my report for me.
Lisa: What?!
Janie: I'll give you my Limited Edition Las Vegas Showgirl Malibu
Stacy.
Lisa: But that's dishonest and a clear violation of the school policy
book, Section five, paragraph three.
Janie: (upset) Oh, so you'll do your brother's homework but not your
best friend's?
Lisa: Brot...What are you talking about?
Janie: Bart's been saying that you wrote an essay for his history
class.
Lisa: (dawning realization) My essay! That little sneak...
<An older girl with an entourage walks up to Lisa>
Girl: Hi, are you Leslie Simpson?
Lisa: It's Lisa actually.
Girl: I'm Tammy Sherwin.
Lisa: Oh, I know. You're one of the most popular girls in school.
Also, you made fun of my shoes last week.
Girl: (nostalgic) Oh yeah. But hey, that was only because we're such
good friends. Say Leslie, would you like to come over to my house after
school? We could watch some videos, munch a little popcorn, maybe do
some geometry.
Lisa: Well, I supp...
<Good looking older boy walks up>
Boy: Hi, are you Liz Sheenan?
Lisa: Lisa Simpson.
Boy: Close enough. How are you at physics?
<Scene: Lisa's room late at night: She sits on the bed next to a stack
of papers writing furiously. The window is opened from the outside and
Bart crawls in>
Bart: (blinking) Aw damn, wrong room. Hey Lis, burning the two AM
oil?
Lisa: (very haggard sounding) Just some homework I have to finish up
before tommorow.
Bart: It's not like you to leave your schoolwork for the last minute.
Lisa: It's not mine, it's all other peoples'. Eight essays, eleven
book reports, forty-two worksheets, even a creative fingerpainting
project. (holds up paint-covered hands)
Bart: Why are you doing all this?
Lisa: Popularity. I'm getting invited over to all the cool kids'
houses, going to all the "in" social functions, and my place in the
lunchroom seating heirarchy has shot up meteorically in the last few
days.
Bart: (holding up a paper) You're trying to be popular with Ralph
Wiggum?
Lisa: Well, it's not all about popularity. That would be shallow. I'm
also doing it for fiduciary gain. I offer my services for a nominal
fee, or barter when necessary.
Bart: (gape-mouthed) I have a whole new respect for you.
Lisa: Go ahead, rub it in; my conscious hasn't been trampled on enough
already.
Bart: No, really. Any craven coward can live an honest life. It takes
real courage to cross over to the dark side. In fact, if you weren't my
sister or if we lived in Alabama I'd consider dating you.
Lisa: (disinterested) Gee, thanks.
<Bart starts walking out, then pauses in doorway>
Bart: By the way, how...
Lisa: (interupting) The prices are posted on the wall behind you.
<Bart turns and sees sheet with prices of various homework items:
reports, essays, etc)
<Scene: Springfield Elementary hallway. Lisa at her locker with Ralph>
Lisa: Here's your Curious George Goes to the Zoo review Ralph. I wrote
it in orange crayon and misspelled every fifth word so as not to arouse
suspicion.
Ralph: Thanks Lisa. Here's your pepper spray. Are you sure Daddy said
you could borrow it?
Lisa: (nervous) Oh...yeah, definitely. (passes container behind her
back to Nelson who slips her a $10 bill. Frame shifts over to Nelson
stopping Martin Prince in the hallway.)
Nelson: Hey Martin, want to smell my new French aftershave?
Martin: (gaily) Delightful! Put just a dab on my wrist.
(Nelson sprays a goodly amount on Martin's arm. He sniffs it deeply,
turns beet red, covers his mouth, and dashes into the bathroom)
Nelson: Ha Ha!
(back to Lisa and Ralph)
Lisa: Um, Ralph, one more thing. If the teacher asks you anything
today, just say...
<Scene cuts to Ms. Hoover's classroom>
Ms. Hoover: Class, you all did a wonderful job on your reading
assignments. Especially you Ralph. Despite the penmanship, poor
grammer, and punctuation errors, I found some of your points quite
insightful. Would you care to elaborate on your main thesis for the
class?
Ralph: You look pretty today Ms. Hoover.
Ms. Hoover: (blushing) Why thank you Ralph. Now about your report...
Ralph: You look pretty today Ms. Hoover.
<Scene: Simpson Kitchen>
Marge: Homer, I'm worried about Lisa. I had to pratically drag her
out of bed this morning. And then she decided to nap during breakfast
while absorbing the nutrients through her face.
<wider shot of table shows Lisa asleep face down in a cereal bowl
breathing through a plastic straw. Whistling sounds are audible as she
inhales>
Homer: (amazed) Hey...that's a great idea. Why didn't I think of
that?
(shot of Homer's head)
Homer's Brain: Don't look at me, I've been on strike since 1986.
(tight shot on Marge)
Marge: I'm really concerned Homer. You don't think it could
be...(lowers voice)...drugs, do you? Homer?
(Homer sits with his face in a plate of syrup-covered pancakes)
Homer: (mumbled) I have found Nirvana.
<Scene: Miss Hoover's classroom>
Hoover: Class dismissed. Lisa, would you mind staying after?
(Lisa trudges up to Hoover's desk)
Hoover: Lisa, I've noticed that your grades and participation have been
steadily dropping over the past week, which is even more perplexing
since many of your classmates have made dramatic improvements lately.
Of course, I have to assume you are on drugs of some kind.
Lisa: (dog-tired looking) No, no, it's not drugs, but I do have a
confession to make. My conscious won't let me live with this any
longer, and even if I could, all these caffeine pills are giving me
heart palpitations. The reason the other students have been doing
better is that I've been doing their homework for them. I haven't had
enough spare time to do my own very well.
Hoover: (shocked) Why would you do such a thing?
Lisa: (disgustedly) The usual reasons: fame and fortune. Essays,
reports, I'd do anything which helped my popularity or pocketbook.
Hoover: (speaking slowly and thoughtfully) Lisa, I'm very disappointed
in you. (pause) Speaking in a strictly hypothetical sense, if a
certain teacher had offered to give you straight A's if you wrote and
graded her tests for the rest of the year, how would you have responded?
Lisa: A week ago, I probably would have accepted. But I'm back on the
high road now.
Hoover: (under her breath) Damn! (to Lisa) Well good, but you must be
punished. Go to the principal's office immediately.
<Scene: Skinner's Office>
Skinner: Lisa, for your flagrant violation of the Code of Tutoring
Ethics, I have decided to punish you by making you fill out the school's
invoices, requisition requests, and bascially all other trifling
paperwork for a period of six months. (drops a folder of forms onto the
desk) You can get started on these. And remember, sign everything
"Seymour Skinner".
<Scene: Semirural road. Chief Wiggum is driving along with a grocery
bag on the seat next to him. Karma Kameleon is playing on the radio,
and while singing the wrong lyrics, Wiggum reaches into the bag and
pulls out a box of powdered donuts. Wiggum struggles to open the
package>
<Shot of Homer driving along same road in opposite direction>
<Back in cruiser, Wiggum steers with one hand, holds the box with the
other, and tears at the end with his teeth. He yanks forcibly and the
box rips apart, sending up a thick cloud of powdered sugar inside the
car. Wiggum squeals like a surprised pig>
<POV: Homer. He sees the cruiser coming towards him, swerving in and
out of its lane. He screams and hastily tosses the cinderblock out the
half-open window, shattering the glass.>
<Inside the cruiser, Wiggum, blinded, yanks the wheel hard left. The
car flips over several times and winds up on its top, skidding towards
Homer, who has managed to stop with the aid of his stopping board. The
flipped cruiser skids very slowly up to Homer's car and just barely taps
the front bumper. First, the sedan's muffler falls to the ground. Then
both bumpers. Then the side panels. The hood and trunk pop open, the
radiator bursts, all the windows spiderweb and fall in, then silence for
a few beats. Then all four tires simultaneouly blow out.>
<Wiggum crawls out of his overturned and burning car and walks up to
Homer>
Wiggum: Wow. You'd think the first twenty or thirty accidents would
teach me not to eat and drive.
Homer: O, but what man is strong enough to resist the temptation?
Wiggum: (as gas tank explodes) Donut? (Homer, of course, accepts).
<Later at same scene. Fire crews have foamed both cars. A tow truck
pulls up.>
Tow Truck Driver: Hi Chief, flipped it again, eh?
Wiggum: It was a pastry-related incident.
Mechanic: Ok, you sir (nodding towards Homer), I'll need your insurance
info.
Wiggum: Oh, you can put him on my tab.
Homer: Well, my car problems were certainly resolved rather neatly.
Wiggum: (to Homer) We can either catch a ride with this guy (gesturing
at tow truck) or walk back into town. (They look at each other
seriously for a moment, and then burst into laughter).
Homer: (laughing hard) Walk! That's a good one!
<Shot of Homer, Wiggum, and Tow Truck Driver inside tow truck starting
back home and then truck heading off into sunset. We still hear the
dialog inside>
Homer: Walkers are such losers.
Wiggum: Oh, I know! You ever pull up to hitchhikers and ask em
directions just for fun?
Homer: No, I usually just throw stuff. Say, do you have any of those
donuts left?
Wiggum: (sad) No. (happy) But hey, wait, I just found a burrito in
my pistol holster. Huh, I wonder where that gun went.
Homer: Can I have part of that?
Wiggum: Well, since I almost killed you, you can have one bite.
(sound of Homer chomping)
Wiggum: Hey, Hey! That's a big bite, don't make me use my Taser. Let
it go. That's it, you're getting Tased. (pause) Hey, another burrito.
Truck descends into speck to the strains of that golden oldie "Sittin'
in My Car"
Fini
----
Good, eh?