The Simpsons s08e03 Episode Script

The Homer They Fall

## [Chorus Singing.]
[Bell Ringing.]
[Tires Screeching.]
D'oh! [Screams.]
[Couch Whinnies.]
[Man On P.
Ladies and gentlemen the Springfield Mall, in conjunction with Nostalgia Licensing Corporation- - ## [Theme Song.]
- is proud to present the stars of Bonanza.
- ## [Fades.]
- [Scattered Applause.]
Thank you.
I just wish Ben and Hoss and LittleJoe and Hop Sing and Sheriff Roy and all your favorites could be alive today to see this wonderful turnout.
You know, on the series, we were always trying to kill the Cartwrights.
[Audience Boos.]
But it looks like Father Time took care of that for us, right? - Am I right, folks? - [Man Coughs.]
## [Theme Song.]
Oh, this sucks.
Weren't there three Indians last year? Look, Marge.
They opened a new high-tech gadget store.
- You love high-tech gadgets.
- No, I don't.
Like bull, you don't.
Come on.
- Homer, please.
You're hurting my arm.
- No, I'm not.
Hey, Lise! Check out this space-age toothbrush.
- [Buzzing.]
- That's an electric nostril groomer.
[Spits, Coughs.]
Night vision goggles? A bathroom scale from a soviet sub? A suede briefcase case? [Groans.]
Anyone who needs this kind of status symbol must have some terrible emotional problems.
Marge, look! "The world's best jacket.
" If I had this, it would show everybody.
Show everybody.
Yes, finally.
I would like to return your quote, unquote "Ultimate Belt.
" I see.
Do you have receipt, quote, unquote "sir"? No, I do not have a receipt.
I won it as a door prize at the Star Trek convention although I find their choice of prize highly illogical as the average Trekker has no use for a medium-sized belt.
Whoa, whoa.
A fat, sarcastic Star Trek fan.
You must be a devil with the ladies.
Hey, l- [Sighs.]
That- Oh.
Gee, I hate to let you down, Casanova, but, uh, no receipt, no return.
I'll give you four bucks for it.
Very well.
I must hurry back to my comic book store where I dispense the insults rather than absorb them.
Wow! I bet if God wore pants, he'd have a belt like that.
This isn't a belt.
It's a tactical pants retaining system.
Check it out.
Compass, matches whistle, saw, panic button, squirrel snare, radon/lie detector sphygmomanometer, and it's even got turn signals.
- Wow, neat! - Uh-oh! Hey, Simpson, wanna trade belts? Well, not really 'cause yours is just a piece of extension cord.
- Hey, dude, he's raggin' on your cord.
- Get him! - No running! - Time for a little evasive action.
Hey, he's turnin'left! [Electronic Voice.]
Help, help, help, help, help! I was hopin' it wouldn't come to this, but you guys asked for it.
Can't you read? Call the police! - Hey, Dad.
- Looking good, Son.
Hey! What happened to your belt? Some bullies beat me up and took it.
Son, there's only one thing punks like that understand- squealing.
You've got to squeal to every teacher and every grown-up you can find.
Coming to me was a good start.
But then they'll just beat me up even worse.
Yes, they are a clever bunch.
I know.
I'll squeal for ya to their parents.
That's for telling me how to raise my lousy kid.
- This is for the crummy life I've had to live.
- [Groans.]
The thing is- [Grunts.]
Bart really loves that belt and- [Grunts.]
Hey, something's wrong with this guy.
He's not fallin' down.
- [Gun Cocks.]
- [Moe.]
Fun's over, fellas! If you're gonna beat up my friend in my bar, there's a two-drink minimum.
Geez, Homer, I never seen a guy stand up to that kind of punishment.
I mean, you took a three-man pounding and didn't even fall down.
Big deal.
I didn't even get my kid's belt back.
The only thing a loser like me is good for is taking beatings.
There you go.
That's the spirit.
Homer, I seen prizefighters couldn't take a punch half as good as you.
You know, boxin' might be right up your alley.
- Really? - Oh, please.
It's the good life, Homer.
Some of these boxers, they eat steak and lobster and salad bar all in a single meal.
- [Gasps.]
Dressing? - Their choice.
You really think I could do it? Well, I don't know.
Are you man enough to test every one of your limits? - Yes.
- And are you man enough to throw a punch should the opportunity arise? - Yes! - And are you man enough to give me a 60% cut? - Yes! - I'll take it.
- Whoo-hoo! - [Boxing Bell Rings.]
Now, Homer, if I'm gonna manage your boxing career I want you to have complete faith in me.
Come here.
Let me show you somethin'.
Wow, I've never been in here before.
Yeah, well, when I realized we hadn't had no ladies in here since 1979 I turned it into an office.
You used to be a boxer just like me? Yup.
They called me Kid Gorgeous.
Later on, it was Kid Presentable.
Then Kid Gruesome.
And, finally, Kid Moe.
- Hey, what's this? - [Liquid Sloshes.]
Oh, that- that's my old spit bucket.
Yeah, I've been meanin' to empty that out.
You know Lucius Sweet? He's one of the biggest names in boxing.
He's exactly as rich and as famous as Don King and he looks just like him too.
Yeah, he was my manager.
Back when I was Gorgeous, everybody wanted a piece of me.
But, somehow, I just never made it to the big time.
- Why not? - 'Cause I got knocked out 40 times in a row.
- That, plus politics.
You know, it's all politics.
- Lousy Democrats.
[Marge Groans.]
Homer, of all the crazy ideas you've had this one ranks somewhere in the middle.
You're 38 years old, you don't know how to box and you haven't gotten any exercise since grade school.
Before you even consider this, I insist you consult a doctor.
No problemo.
- A competent doctor! - D'oh! Well, sir, you more than meet every one of this state's requirements to box, wrestle or be shot out of a cannon.
That's what we get for living in a state founded by circus freaks.
You have an absolutely unique genetic condition known as "Homer Simpson Syndrome.
" - Oh, why me? - Don't worry.
It's quite beneficial.
Your brain is cushioned by a layer of fluid one eighth of an inch thicker than normal.
It's almost as if you're wearing a football helmet inside your own head.
Why, I could wallop you all day with this surgical two-by-four without ever knocking you down.
But I have other appointments.
All right, Homer.
Let's see the left.
Let's see the right.
Just a second.
- When you're ready.
- All right, I'm ready.
Wait a minute.
All right.
Wait a minute.
Just a sec.
Okay, punching isn't your thing, but that's okay.
You're not that kind of fighter.
What you're gonna do is stand there while your opponent gets exhausted from over-punching.
- Then I can just push him over.
- That's right.
And if the ref's not looking, you can kick him a couple of times.
Who's gonna knock you down? - No one! - When are you gonna fight back? - Never! - What are you gonna do? - Nothin'! - That's my boy! Man, you'd never get me into a ring.
Boxing causes brain damage.
Okay, you're fightin' a guy named Boxcar Bob.
Brawled his way up from the boxcars, did he? Uh, no, not yet.
He still lives at the train yard.
But he's a hungry young fighter.
In fact, he's actually fightin' for a sandwich.
Homer, I want you to have my lucky mitts.
I hope you do better with 'em than I did.
Gee, thanks, Moe.
What's this? Ah, that's the barbed wire.
We, uh-We called that "the stinger.
" They don't let you use that no more.
- [Crowd Chattering.]
- No matter how much he hits you you don't do nothin', okay? You don't wanna get drawn into a boxin' match here.
[Bell Rings.]
[Crowd Cheering.]
Way to go, Dad! Take those punches.
Man, that tramp's got the energy of a hobo.
Yeah, he never stops punching, except to check out his bindle.
He's not fallin'down at all.
[Crowd Cheering, Chattering.]
- [Cheering, Chattering Stops.]
- [Grunts.]
Okay, Homer, he's tired! He's tired! Now's your chance! Nudge him! Nudge him! [Crowd Cheers.]
## [Opera.]
## [Ends.]
Hello, Moe.
Delightful to see you again.
Lucius! Hey, what's a glitterati like you doin' in my dump? I thought you were managing the champ.
Yes, managing Drederick has been my highest priority even though he is temporarily incarcerated for pushing his mother down the stairs.
But with his impending release I've been strategizing for his glorious return to the shores of"Fistiana.
" Uh, what? His comeback fight.
You know, boxing.
Oh, man.
Yeah, well, who's donatin' his body for that one, huh? Well, word is you manage a stalwart young pugilist who cannot be knocked down.
Homer? You want Homer to fight Tatum? Well, the fans are weary of fights that are over before they have an opportunity to even get drunk.
I just need a body who can sustain verticality for three rounds.
Yeah, but Homer's no boxer.
He's- He's just a freak.
Tatum will fustigate him.
Well, fustigation aside, Moe, you've got a choice.
You can either sit here in the ladies' room with your faded memories or you can take your last shot at the big time.
And I can make it happen.
Three rounds.
That's all I ask.
I gotta be honest with you, Homer.
- I didn't bring you up here to show you my new tar paper.
- You didn't? No.
Homer, how would you like to be heavyweight champion of the world? - Oh, sure.
- Great.
All you gotta do is fight Drederick Tatum.
It's this Saturday.
Here's your parking pass.
Ooh, "general.
" Who's Drederick Tatum anyway? Is he another hobo? Uh, you know what? I'm gonna have to check on that.
Well, I trust you, Moe.
If you say I can beat this guy, then he doesn't stand a chance.
[Klaxon Blaring.]
[All Yelling.]
Hey, guys, come on.
Shut up.
- [Klaxon Stops.]
- [Yelling Stops.]
- Sorry, Champ.
- It was Jerry.
- [Crowd Clamoring.]
- [Man.]
Champ, do you feel remorse for your crime? Oh, yes.
Believe me.
My God.
If I could turn back the clock on my mother's stair-pushing, I would certainly reconsider it.
[Man #2.]
Drederick, uh, what do you think of Homer Simpson? I think he's a good man.
I like him.
I got nothing against him, but I'm definitely gonna make orphans of his children.
[Man #3.]
Uh, they do have a mother, Champ.
Yes, but I would imagine that she would die of grief.
- [Crowd Clamoring.]
- Thank you, thank you but the champ has no time for further queries.
This parole hearing is over.
- [All Groan.]
- [Man #4.]
I wanted to know what he was like in prison.
Homer, why are they saying you're going to fight Drederick Tatum? [Gulps.]
Uh, well, uh I was gonna surprise you, but, um happy anniversary, baby! - Have you lost your mind? - Oh, come on.
I'll make a fortune for one night's work.
We can have all the things we always dreamed of- a snooty butler, carpeted carports those blue cupcakes they sell sometimes- - But you'll get killed! - Marge! Will you let me finish? Plug-in room deodorizers, front and rear spoilers for the car.
Mom's right, Dad.
The odds against you winning are a thousand to one.
Well, I don't think it's that unlikely.
Those are the odds they're givin' in Vegas.
All right, I think we've heard just about enough from Mr.
Newspaper today.
Society put Drederick Tatum away for his brutal crime.
But he's paid his debt, and now he's going to get revenge on Homer Simpson.
- [Both Cheer.]
- That's your daddy.
T-shirts! Get your T-shirts.
Tell 'em where you been by wearin' a T-shirt! [Bart.]
You'll be okay, Dad.
Just make sure he hits you an even number of times, so you don't end up with amnesia.
Moe, I'm so glad I found you.
Please, promise me you won't let Homer get hurt.
Hey, hey, I'm not the villain here, okay? If Homer gets killed in the ring tonight, it'll be because of your negative attitude.
- There, I said it.
- Listen to me.
The instant that Homer's in any kind of danger I want you to throw in this towel and stop the fight.
Right, all right, all right, I promise, okay? [Sighs.]
Thank you.
[Footsteps Departing.]
Celebrities at ringside tonight- Star of the McBain action films, and featured player in the Hollywood prostitution scandal- - Rainier Wolfcastle! - [Crowd Applauds.]
TVanchorman and Springfield institution, Mr.
Kent Brockman! - [Crowd Boos.]
- [Laughs.]
This just in.
Go to hell! From the world of organized crime - say hello to Anthony "Fat Tony'"D'Amico! - [Crowd Applauds.]
And the ruiner of events worldwide- title fights, the Super Bowl, and the Nixon funeral- - ladies and gentlemen, the Fan Man! - [Crowd Applauds, Cheers.]
Aw, cripes! Now I gotta comb this side over.
All right, Homer, I'm not gonna lie to you.
There's a good chance you can beat Tatum.
But you gotta visualize how you're gonna win, okay? Gotcha.
[Crowd Cheering.]
A congenital heart defect has apparently felled Tatum moments before he could step into the ring.
And, now, please welcome back into decent society ladies and gentlemen, the heavyweight champion of the world Drederick Tatum.
- ## [Heavy Rap.]
- [Audience Cheers.]
Let's get ready to rumble! And to challenge the irresistible force of Tatum we have the immovable object.
He's been called the Brick Hit House and is also known as the Southern Dandy - Homer Simpson! - [Crowd Applauds.]
## [Rock.]
- ## [Ends.]
- Your boy looks a little soft, Moe.
You do remember our arrangement? - Yeah, don't worry.
You'll get your three rounds.
- Stupendous.
Because if he goes down before that bell rings your future's going with him.
Future down the crapper.
Due to popular demand, we will forgo our national anthem.
And, now, ladies and gentlemen let's get ready to rumble! - [Crowd Cheering.]
- [Rings.]
Okay, Homer, nothin' to be worried about.
Just- [Groans.]
Wow! I've never seen Dad hit somebody like that before.
What are you talking about? - Isn't Dad the one in the black trunks? - No.
- Uh-oh.
- What? What? What am I missing? What? [Announcer.]
And there's Tatum showboating for the crowd.
Aw, geez, only six seconds in.
That a boy, Homer! Keep dancin'.
Showing utter disdain for his opponent's abilities Tatum is taking a short mid-round breather to converse with actor Charlie Sheen.
You know what's great there is the sea bass.
They do it blackened or sautéed.
It's stupendous.
Okay, break it up! Break it up, you two.
Homer! Homer, he's not going to get tired! You've got to hit him back! Hit him back! [Thinking.]
That cactus is right.
I've only got one chance.
I've got to knock him out.
Hang in there, Homer! Only 440 more seconds.
He's gettin' his second wind.
No, he's gettin' killed! He's gonna die on his feet.
I can't watch this.
I gotta get outta here.
- [Crowd Shouting.]
- [Man.]
Kill the bum! [Shouting Continues.]
Somebody stop the fight! Where's the doctor? Kill him! Kill him! [Announcer.]
It looks like it's all over.
Tatum wants to finish this with one punch.
And here it comes.
Oh, my God! Simpson's manager has flown into the ring and is airlifting him out.
Ladies and gentlemen, whatever dignity remained in boxing is literally flying out the window.
Are you an angel? Yes, Homer.
I'm an angel.
All us angels wear Farah slacks.
But you stopped the fight.
Won't everyone be mad at you? Ah, let 'em be mad.
The only thing that matters to me is you're safe.
- D'oh! - Sorry.
Homer, your manager obviously loves you very much.
Lucius, would you do that for me? Absolutely, I would.
Now get in the van.
You couldn't even give me one lousy round, Moe.
You will always be a loser.
Now take your check for a hundred thousand dollars and get out of my sight.
I don't need your stinkin' money! Oh, Homie, are you okay? I can't remember where we parked.
Oh, that's all right.
We'll just wait till everyone else leaves.
I got your tooth, Dad.
Uh, not mine.
Thank you, Moe.
I know you gave up your dreams for Homer.
Well, what do dreams matter, Marge? I was able to stick up for a pal.
Well, so long, Springfield.
- Where are you goin'? - Oh, nowheres in particular.
I just need some time to think.
- ## [Woman Singing.]
- Hey, there you are! Hey, you give me that contraption back! [Shouting Continues, Indistinct.]
[Shouting Continues, Indistinct.]
## [Continues.]
## [Continues.]
## [Ends.]
- [Murmuring.]
- Shh!
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