The Simpsons s07e09 Episode Script

Sideshow Bob's Last Gleaming

The Simpsons D'oh! I'd like to thank everybody who contributed to Krusty's Canned Food Drive.
Your generous donations have made this our slipperiest, slimiest slobstacle course ever! Our contestants will drop out of my nose and blurp into a tub of refried beans.
From there, they'll stumble down a sluice of rich, eggy béarnaise sauce.
- How can we afford it? It's rancid! - Uhh- And at the finish line a scrumptious parfait of pudding, pickle brine and detergent where a writhing pile of kids will grope blindly for hot dogs! Krusty, please! It burns! Oh, just think, Lise.
That's our pickle brine burning Sideshow Mel.
That Sideshow Mel thinks he's so big.
Whatever happened to Sideshow Bob? Don't you remember, Dad? He framed Krusty, he tried to kill Aunt Selma he rigged an election- And he tried to murder me.
! Oh, yeah.
But what I'll mainly remember is the laughter.
I wonder what he's doing now.
Ah, Westminster Abbey.
Edward the Confessor himself could not have done better.
Now to set the clocks to Greenwich mean time.
My dear abbey! This is the way we mop the floor, mop the floor mop the floor Oh, must you bray night and day at that infernal television? - Oh, look who's talking.
- Yeah, Bob.
You used to be on this show.
Don't remind me! My foolish capering destroyed more young minds than syphilis and pinball combined.
Oh, how I loathe that box that omnidirectional sludge pump droning and burping- Look here! That's enough now! I own 60% of that network! All right, break it up, boys.
It's time for work detail.
I suppose you don't like tabloid newspapers either.
That's the last condom wrapper.
Oh, I renew my objection to this pointless endeavor.
Informally now and by affidavit later, time permitting.
Shut your word-hole! We gotta get this place clean for the air show.
Air show? Buzz-cut Alabamians spewing colored smoke from their whizz jets to the strains of "Rock You Like a Hurricane"? What kind of country-fried rube is still impressed by that? - Yeah! - Yeah.
I want to meet the first female stealth bomber pilot.
During the Gulf War, she destroyed I want to see some birds get sucked into the engines, rare ones.
- This year I'm making ear plugs out of biscuit dough.
They're ready.
So weary.
Grandma, this is my friend, Craig.
Friend? You mean you two aren't knocking boots? Ever do the back-seat mambo, Craigie? I know that voice.
TV's bottomless chum bucket has claimed Vanessa Redgrave! Now I'm gonna haul ass to Lollapalooza.
! Farewell, dear 'Nessa.
Hey, you.
! The state's not paying you five cents an hour to stand around.
- Now, get busy! - Oh, I'll get busy.
I'll get very busy, indeed.
You still got it, Bob.
Way to guard the parking lot, Top Gun! I have three medals for this.
Hey! Where is Sideshow Bob and that guy who, uh, eats people and takes their faces? - I'm right here, Chief.
- Oh.
Then where's Sideshow Bob? - Uh, he ran off.
- Oh, great.
Well, if anyone asks, uh, I beat him to death, okay? Right.
At this point in time, I would like to direct your attention to the particular air vehicle next to which I am currently standing.
The Harrier jet is one of our more dollar-intensive, ordnance-delivery vectors.
Five tires? Am I seeing things? Uh, and although it looks complicated it's so well-designed, even a child could fly it.
- Can I fly it? - Of course you cannot.
Free Duff? Viva life! Mm.
Uhh- Take that, Mom! Take that, Dad! Send me to a psychiatrist, will you? Take that, Dr.
Sally Waxler! Uh, Colonel, they're expecting you at the podium in 10 minutes.
I'm, uh- Hmm.
What in the World According to Garp? Those are my dress towels! Who's in my private washroom? McGuckett, let me in.
- The door already is closed.
- What? This is Colonel Leslie "Hap" Hapablap.
If you don't open that door, I'll tear you up like a Kleenex at a snot party! You say you're in the military? Sweet Enola Gay, son! I'm gonna come in there and corpse you up! Corpse you up and mail you to mama! Well, where'd he go? Oh, got my knuckles all lined up for nothing.
Sorry, ladies.
- Look at that hunk of junk.
- Not jun- You're ignorant! That's the Wright Brothers' plane.
At Kitty Hawk in 1903 Charles Lindbergh flew it 15 miles on a thimbleful of corn oil.
Single-handedly won us the Civil War, it did.
So, how do you know so much about American history? I pieced it together mostly from sugar packets.
Authorization code? Code? Son, this is Colonel Hapablap! That fool McGuckett sprayed runway foam all over Chuck Yeager's Acura.
Now get down there with the chamois triple-time! - But, Colonel, I'm under strict orders to- - Sweet Enola Gay, son! Get moving or I'll tear you up like a Kleenex at a, uh, snot party.
Sir, right away, sir! They didn't have any aspirin, so I got you some cigarettes.
Maybe my headache will go away once the show starts.
Uh, ladies and gentlemen what a day for an air show! Not a cloud in the sky.
! Except perhaps a mushroom cloud.
Oh, forget it.
To slip the surly bonds of Earth and touch the face of God.
To fly! The dream of man and flightless bird alike.
And now, hold on tight as we blast through the thrilling highlights of aviation history! - Say! Did somebody say box kites? - No.
! The common box kite was originally used as a means of drying wet string.
Do they have to play that rock music? Every note is pounding into my skull.
Anybody out there feel the need for speed? - Yay! - Yay.
Then get ready for the pride of the United States Air Force! The British-made HarrierJump jet! Dad, why aren't you looking? Why jerk my neck around like a goon when Tyranno-Vision decides what I should look at? Ooh, look! It's Maggie! Uh, Maggie? Sideshow Bob! Hello, Springfield.
Sorry to divert your attention from all the big noises and shiny things.
But something's been troubling me lately- television! Wouldn't our lives be so much richer if television were done away with? - What? - Surely he's not talking about VH1? Why, we could revive the lost arts of conversation and scrimshaw.
Thus I submit to you, we abolish television permanently! Go back to Massachusetts, pinko! Oh, and one more thing.
I've stolen a nuclear weapon.
If you do not rid this city of television within two hours I will detonate it.
By the way, I'm aware of the irony of appearing on TV in order to decry it.
So don't bother pointing that out.
Kids, everything's gonna be okay! Don't panic! Just don't panic! Mom! Mom, you're stepping on my heels and knocking my shoes off! We can always get more shoes.
Move, move, move! Stamp your hand for reentry.
Hey! Cool! I want to be around when those guns start going off.
Bart! No! - Wait! Wait! My children are in there! - You must be very proud, ma'am.
Our city will not negotiate with terrorists.
Is there a city nearby that will? No need, sir.
We'll find that head case faster than Garfield finds lasagna.
I'm sorry.
My- My wife thought that was gangbusters.
This elevator only goes to the basement.
And someone made an awful mess down there.
Watch out.
! He's got his probe.
! Bart! Bart! What are you doing? We've got to get out of here! Target sighted! Launching air-to-nerd missile! Ow! Come on! Mom and Dad are waiting! Bob is not here.
We have searched every square inch of this base and all we have found is porno, porno, porno! We have only 20 minutes left.
Send in the esteemed representatives of television.
Hey, hey! Now, this is my kind of meeting! Gentlemen, it's time we face up to the un-face-up-to-able.
We must sacrifice television in order to save the lives of our townspeople.
Whoa! Whoa-ho-ho! Let's not go nuts! Would it really be worth living in a world without television? I think the survivors would envy the dead.
- I appreciate your passion on behalf of your medium.
But I'm afraid we're out of options.
Television must go.
May God have mercy on our souls.
And as my final newscast draws to a close I'm reminded of a few of the events that brought me closer to you.
The collapse of the Soviet Union, premium ice cream price wars dogs that were mistakenly issued major credit cards and others who weren't so lucky.
And so, farewell.
Uh, and, uh, don't forget to look for my new column in PC World magazine.
Success! They're giving in! Blast! I should have made more demands! Some decent local marmalade, for one.
Oh, well, next time.
Not my extendo-glove! Oh, they haven't made those since the war.
Not- Oh, not my Paris backdrop! How am I gonna make fun of the Frogs? Wait.
If I could only stay on the air I'd have 100% of the audience.
Think of the ratings.
Okay, so we can't go over the fence.
I feel so helpless.
What if something happens to them? I'm sure they're fine, honey.
Well, at least they're wearing clean underwear.
Free and easy, Lise.
There's nothing like an unfurnished basement for pure comfort.
Huh? Hurry up.
Mom and Dad are probably worried sick.
Do you know what really frosts my Kelvinator? That fruitcup's probably still laughing at us from his damn hidey-hole.
I'd rather take an order from Bill Clinton than hear that guy's snooty, high-toned voice again, sir.
"High-toned voice.
" Bart, that's it.
I know where Sideshow Bob is hiding.
When Bob broadcast that message, his voice was higher than normal.
And what makes your voice high? - Tight, binding underwear? - Helium! Sideshow Bob is in the Duff blimp! All Springfield trembles before the might of Sideshow Bob.
Blasted helium! Shoo! Shoo! Shoo! Shoo! That's better.
Gone too.
This is the emergency broadcast system.
Stand by for an urgent bulletin.
Hey, hey! Krusty the Clown is back on the air! Eight- No, no! Twelve hours a day! The only game in town! Krusty! But how? Coming at you live from the civil defense shack in the remote Alkali Flats of the Springfield badlands.
I'll be beaming out Hour after hour of unscripted, unrehearsed comedy featuring, uh, you know, uh, Professor Gas Can! Uh, and, uh, former president, Ike Eisenhower! Let's get busy! Oh! My utopia lies in ruins.
How naive of me to think a mere atom bomb could fell the chattering Cyclops! Well, at least I'll have my revenge! Bob, no! Don't you see? That would be taking the easy way out.
I agree.
"Best before November 1959.
" Damn it, Bob! There were plenty of brand-new bombs.
But you had to go for that retro '50s charm.
Well, if it isn't my arch nemesis, Bart Simpson and his sister, Lisa, to whom I'm fairly indifferent.
So Krusty double-crossed you.
But your basic plan was pure genius.
Where do you get your ideas? Oh, please! Let's not embarrass us both with that hoary old stall-the-villain-with-flattery scheme.
I- I should've known you were too smart to fall for that.
Really? What type of smart? Book smart? Because there are a lot of people who are book smart.
But it takes a very special type of genius to- All right, Bob.
It's over.
! Come out with your hands up.
! No! How did they find me? He's getting away! - Oh, not the Harrier! We've got a war tomorrow.
God bless the idiot-proof Air Force.
They're gone! Hell! Not the Wright Brothers' plane.
The Smithsonian's gonna have my ass on a platter.
Dad! Help! Hang on, boy! Daddy's coming to save you! D'oh! Mom! I found Sideshow Bob's hideout! And I got a secret message to the police! And I had a blimp fall on me! And I was in an atomic blast! But I'm okay now! Well, I wrecked the gate.
But you don't hear me bragging.
Now let's roll! Ah, for the days when aviation was a gentleman's pursuit.
Back before everyJoe Sweat Sock could wedge himself behind a lunch tray and jet off to Raleigh-Durham.
Are you getting lots of bugs in your mouth too? Yes.
Prepare to engage enemy.
Bogie's air speed not sufficient for intercept.
Suggest we get out and walk.
Jump, boy! I got you! I'm coming! Now you, boy.
You can't escape, Bob.
If the tennis rackets don't get you, the pool skimmers will.
Oh, I- I never planned to escape.
You see, this is a kamikaze mission.
You and I are going to kill Krusty the Clown! Kids, Itchy and Scratchy can't be here today.
But instead, we've got the next best thing.
It's The Stingy and Battery Show.
! They bite and light and bite and light and bite You know what I'm talking about.
You can't kill Krusty.
He made you what you are.
- Without him, you wouldn't even be called "Sideshow.
" What the hell is that? A lawn mower? Get out of the way, Krusty! What is the freakin' holdup? Die, Krusty! Die- Oh.
Ooh, sorry.
Uh, we don't normally drive these in the Air Force.
Gotcha! Ya TV-hatin' mutant.
What is your major malfunction, Sideshow Bob? Oh, my little sugar bun.
I'm so glad you're safe.
But- But- But- But, M-M-Mom! You're embarrassing me in front of the army guys.
How ironic.
My crusade against television has come to an end so formulaic it could have spewed from the PowerBook of the laziest Hollywood hack.
Hey, everybody! I'm gonna haul ass to Lollapalooza! - Here we go again.
- Here we go again.
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