The Simpsons s02e12 Episode Script

The Way We Was

Do you have to sit so close? It'll hurt your eyes.
-It will not.
-Oh, yes, it will.
Our next movie is McBain a shoot-them-up, splatter-fest from the Hollywood cookie cutter.
Here's a brainless scene.
Senator Mendoza is a respected citizen.
Yet you ran his limo off a cliff and drove a bus through his front door? I have proof that he's head of a drug cartel! I don't want to hear it, McBain! You're out of here! That makes two of us.
-All right, McBain! -Cool! "That makes two of us.
" Are we talking about the same movie? McBain was a nonstop roller coaster of chills, thrills, spills and kills.
That chase at the end-- That movie stinks like your creepy apartment.
-Your mother didn't think so.
-Real mature-- I love watching the bald guy argue with the fat tub of lard.
-What gives? -Dad, do something! All right, all right.
Time for Dr.
TV to perform a little surgery! Looks like you lost the patient, doc.
Shut up.
Cheap Chinese TV, why'd I ever buy it? Is that better? No! How's this? Oh, no.
Okay.
Just everybody remain calm.
If you look close, you can make them out.
Yeah, I think I can.
You're staring at a dot.
She's right! She's right! Oh, how I miss TV! Dear God, give me one channel! It's not the end of the world.
Before we got married, we hardly watched TV.
You lie! It's true, Bart.
We used to shoot pool and go dancing.
How romantic! And we'd stay at home and talk, like this.
I ain't loving it.
It's hard to picture you at the crossroads of life.
So many questions.
-Pick one.
-Okay.
How did Dad propose to you? Oh, well.
I think we found the reason why you've been throwing up in the morning.
-Congratulations.
-D'oh! I'd rather tell you a different story.
How your father and I first met and fell in love.
We were seniors in high school, but we'd never met.
Gross.
Hey, Homer, you're late for English! Who needs that? I'm never going to England.
Let's smoke.
I'm for equal rights, but do we need an amendment? Don't you deserve to earn as much as a man who does the same job? Not if I have to do heavy lifting or math.
Oh, Marge, you really ought to read this.
The shop kids are smoking again.
-We're late for wood shop! -Let's go grab a burger.
Boy, you don't gain a pound.
It's my metabolism.
I'm one of the lucky ones.
Well, if it isn't Simpson and Gumble, Springfield's Cheech and Chong.
Three days of detention.
You know where and when.
I found out that to hire professionals to do all the jobs of a housewife who incidentally is not married to a house, would cost $48,000 a year.
Right on, sister! The first step is to free ourselves from these male-imposed shackles! Yeah, mama! Take it off! -I didn't think it'd burn so fast.
-It's the paper.
Ms.
Bouvier, I am surprised.
One day of detention.
You know where and when.
-No, I don't.
I've never really-- -3:00, old building, room 106.
Hi, Estelle? Will you go to the prom with me? I wouldn't go if you were Elliott Gould! -Shot down again.
-Don't worry, it's a big school.
There's gotta be a girl nobody wants to take.
Excuse me, is this room 106? -Hey, who's that? -I don't know.
-Hey, would you like to go--? -She's mine! -So what are you in for? -I'm a political prisoner.
Every day, I show up, act like me and they slap me in here.
Simpson, be quiet! -I haven't seen you in school.
-Okay, Simpson.
-What? -Another day of detention! -Let's get together.
-Two days! -What's your name? -Homer.
-Three days! -J.
Simpson.
-Five! -It was worth it! Six days! Okay, Simpson, to the back of the room! -Love at first sight! -Jailhouse romance.
I reached step one.
She knew I existed.
The problem was, she didn't care.
-What's the matter? -Nothing.
Usually, I have to wrestle the bucket out of your mitts.
-Dad, I'm in love.
-Why don't you grab yourself a beer? -But, Dad, I don't drink-- -Cut the crap! "I collect the cans.
" Now grab a beer and get me one too.
This girlfriend, is she a real looker? -A lot on the ball? -Yeah.
Oh, son, don't overreach! Go for the dented car, the dead-end job, the less attractive girl! I blame myself.
I should've had this talk a long time ago.
Thanks, Pop.
A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, l, J, K, L, M, N, O, P-- S.
I need some guidance, counselor.
Okey-dokey.
Good Lord, you should've come to see me a long time ago.
I met this girl, Marge, and I wanna force her to like me.
That's not the type of guidance I give.
I like to think I do something helpful for every student.
The only advice I can give you is to share common interests and spend.
What interests does she have? She's active on the forensics team.
They meet in room 219.
-Far out! -Do you have plans after graduation? Me? I'm gonna drink a lot of beer and stay out all night! I meant career-wise.
That nuclear power plant will be opening soon.
It's an outfit that won't require a college education.
Me, in a nuclear power plant.
Kaboom! But bringing up a son, even a blind one, isn't a lifetime occupation.
Now, the more you help him, the more you hurt him.
Woe unto Shelbyville, should they underestimate our strength.
Thanks, Artie.
I'd like to sign up for something.
-We've an opening on the debate team.
-Arguing? I'll take that, stinkpot! Just warming up, Mrs.
Bloominstein.
The topic is "Resolved: The speed limit should be lowered to 55 mph.
" Fifty-five? That's ridiculous! Sure, it'll save a few lives, but millions will be late! Why don't you take "con"? No way.
-Our speed limit is an anachronism-- -Ignoramus.
-Will you shut up? -That word you call me-- -Ignoramus? -It means I'm stupid, doesn't it? -Stupidity is different.
-Not to me.
-Ignoramus.
-You are.
-Would you like to do your rebuttal? -With pleasure.
Ay, carumba! You may not remember me.
I mooned for rebuttal.
-Yes, I remember.
-So you wanna go out with me? Well, I don't think you're my type.
You see, the problem is, you don't know me.
I have references.
Just ask Coach Flanagan.
And ask Mr.
Seckofsky and Barney Gumble! I don't know.
I'm not asking you to like me or let me touch your goodies.
Just be fair.
Homer Simpson? Oh, yeah.
Junior varsity shot-putter.
I think if he applies himself, trains real hard, he could go another foot.
I had him for four years.
Solid "C" student.
Made a lamp last year.
He's all things to men and maybe to a lucky gal.
Wanna go to prom with me? -Good God, no! -Well put.
Well, what's the good word? I'm sorry.
You seem like a nice guy.
But I really don't have the time.
And the forensics championship is coming up.
-So? -And I tutor part-time.
-You tutor? Anyone can be tutored? -Only in French.
French? What a coincidence! Just the subject I'm having trouble with.
-Why, you cagey old dog! -Great story.
Work, damn you, work! Bart! You may be telling this one day if something breaks.
Lost a few.
There's plenty more where that came from.
Uh-oh, a zit.
No problemo.
The perfect crime.
-Why is there make-out music on? -It helps me study.
Not me.
Shut it off and let's get down to business.
-Crayon.
-Bien! -Fenêtre.
-Bien! -Femme.
-Très bien.
I should be going.
I have a big forensics meet tomorrow.
Wait, wait.
Don't go.
Wait.
Wait.
Why don't we take a little study break? -Do the hustle! -Keep it down! You're amazing.
Now you can conjugate all the regular verbs two irregular verbs, and sing "Alouette.
" -Bien.
-I can't believe it.
It's sticking.
You're telling me new stuff and minutes later, it's still there.
When I see you forming vowels and continents-- -Consonants.
-With your beautiful mouth and teeth-- Merci, I guess.
Marge, would you go to the prom with me? You know, Homer, you're like no one I've ever met before.
You're dear and honest and open, without a trace of pretension.
I'll take that as a compliment.
Will you go out with me? Say oui.
-Oui.
-This will be the greatest night! I've been saving up, but I'll spend it all on us! I'll rent a limo! I'll buy you a corsage! My tux will have the widest lapels and the highest platform shoes.
Maybe I'll wear my hair up.
Wait, Marge.
If honest and open is what you like, get a load of this.
I'm not in any French class.
This was a brilliant scheme to get to know you.
You knew the City Forensics Finals are tomorrow and you kept me up until 1 a.
m.
Pretending to be stupid! Homer J.
Simpson, I hate you! Hey, Barney.
Guess who's got a date for the prom?! I know this story doesn't end with you telling it to us.
They married, had kids and bought a cheap TV.
Bringing up a son, even a blind one, isn't a lifetime occupation.
-Now, the more you help him -Terrible.
the more you hurt him.
Congratulations, Artie.
This may not be an appropriate forum for what I'm about to put forth but would you go to the prom with me? I can think of many cogent arguments.
The first is from Time magazine: "America's Affair With the Prom.
" "Even wallflowers can date--" The best argument is that I've known and respected you for eight years.
I'll go to the prom with you.
If you pinch your cheeks, they'll glow.
Try to break some capillaries.
-Couldn't we just use rouge for this? -Ladies pinch.
Whores use rouge.
Is Marge here? -Who--? -Or what are you? -I'm her date.
-I suppose you wanna come in.
-Okay.
-Marge's dates always get homelier.
That's what you get when you don't put out.
I usually insist on approving Marge's dates, but you're a solid citizen.
Thanks, Mr.
B.
Here she comes.
Get the camera ready.
Homer? -What are you doing here? -You said you'd go with me.
I said I hated you, and we haven't talked since then.
I was afraid you'd cancel so I stayed away even though it meant skipping school and graduating this summer.
-I'm Artie, Marge's date for the prom.
-Well, hello.
-Well, hello, hello.
-Don't we look handsome? -Indeed we do.
-Come in, young man.
Wait a second.
If he's your date, who are you? I'm a spare.
Excuse me.
Now that that unpleasantness is over, let's take a picture of the couple.
Say "Cheez Whiz.
" -Hey, buddy, where's your date? -She's with him.
I guess you want me to take you home? I paid for this car, tuxedo and the two dinners! We're going to the prom! Prom, it is.
Don't dance too closely, now.
Have a good time.
Wait a second, is that a bong? You have asthma? All right, move along.
I thought you dropped out.
-You wish, Dondalinger.
-That's Mr.
Dondalinger.
-Steak or chicken? -Both.
-Coming through! -Barney! He's bought himself a decade of detention.
Children, we've tabulated your votes.
The king and queen of Springfield High School's class of 1974 are Artie Ziff and Marge Bouvier.
Oh, isn't she great? Hail, Queen Marge! Long live the queen! Hello, classmates.
Instead of voting for an athletic hero or pretty boy you have elected me, your intellectual superior, as your king.
Very well said.
Your king and queen will share their first royal dance.
Why do birds suddenly appear? -Every time you're near? -I've gotta get out of here.
-Homer? -What? Why are you doing this? Why can't you accept that I'm here with someone? Because we were meant to be together.
Usually when I have a thought, there's others.
Something says yes and no.
This time, it's only yes.
How could the only thing I've ever been sure about be wrong? I don't know, but it is.
-Where to now, Romeo? -Inspiration Point.
I'm only paid to drive.
Artie, I don't know.
It was a beautiful evening.
Let's not ruin it.
-Just this.
-Artie, please.
-Come on, kiss me.
Please.
-No, really, I mean it! Now stop it! -I'm sorry, Marge.
-Take me home.
It's 1:00.
If you wanna keep me, I'm afraid it's gonna be $45 an hour.
-No, it's okay.
I'm broke.
I'll walk.
-Yeah, why spoil a perfect evening? I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anybody about my busy hands.
Not so much for myself, but I'm so respected it would damage the town to hear it.
Good night.
Yeah, right.
When Simpson showed up, it took years off my life.
Stop it.
She went out with the good one.
Shut up! I'm over as far as I can go! All right! All right! I'll walk in the mud! -Homer? -Marge? -Yeah.
You want a ride? -Sure.
When I got home, I realized who I should've gone with.
Who? Oh.
-Hi, prom date.
-Marge, pour vous.
-Why so glum? -I got a problem.
Once you stop this car, I'm gonna hug you and kiss you and I'll never let you go.
And I never have.