text
stringlengths 7
697
|
---|
So long, officers. Uh-oh. |
Hey, what's all the -- |
My beer... my beer... my beautiful beer. |
The poor boy is so desperate. He wants to earn money to buy a comic book. |
A comic book! Oh, my, boys never change. Which one is it, "Nazi Smasher"? |
I don't think so. |
Send him over to my house, I got a few chores he could do. He knows how to mix whitewash, don't he? |
Mrs. Glick? |
Eh, you must be Burt Simpson! Well, you look like you've got a strong young back! |
Would you like something to eat? I've got dried apricots... almond paste, sauerkraut candy. |
No, thanks. Who's that? |
Oh, that's my brother, Asa. He was killed in the Great War. Held a grenade too long. |
This one's for you Kaiser Bill. Special delivery from Uncle Sam and all the boys in D Company: Yeah! Johnny, Harrison, Brooklyn Bob and Reggie. Yeah, even Reggie. He ain't so stuck-up once you get to know... |
Here, have some ribbon candy. Boys love candy. |
No, thanks. |
Boys love candy. |
Oh, yes, ma'am! |
Ugh, I think I'd rather just get to work, Ma'am. |
We'll start with a little light yard work. And when you're done, you can have a nice barley pop. |
I want you to clear out all the weeds. You do know which ones are weeds? |
All of 'em? |
Good boy. |
Now be careful with these. I'll be inside watching my stories. |
Ow!. . .Ow! |
Jack, please. I'm married. |
That must be what's turning me on. |
Oh... Stop it... some more. |
Filthy, but genuinely arousing. |
Finished. |
Merciful heavens, you're bleeding! I'll get the iodine. |
Now, don't fidget. |
Listen, lady, you don't have to -- YAAAUUUUGGGHHH! |
They've never improved on iodine. |
Hi, Mom. |
Did you make any money? |
Not yet, but at least I'm in a lot of pain. |
Well, I think what you're doing for Mrs. Glick is very nice. The poor old thing doesn't have anybody. |
There's a reason. |
The sludge certainly collects around those downspouts, don't it? |
I'll sludge you, you old bat. |
Today, we wash Beulah. Do you know what that is? |
Some old lady thing, nobody's heard about for fifty years? |
No, it was my wedding dress, but then I dyed it black and it became my mourning dress. |
Great story, lady. |
Last night I dreamed I held you in my arms. |
No! No, not the iodine! Burn the germs off with a torch, amputate my arm, but not the -- YAAAUUUGGGHHH! |
Well, it's payday. I'll wager you've been looking forward to this. |
Two quarters. |
Two quarters? |
You deserve every penny. You know, I've told a lot of my girlfriends about you and they have chores too. |
Two quarters! |
Bart, you didn't say thank you. |
Listen lady, I can leave without screaming, and I can leave without saying a bad word, but there's no way that I am saying thank you. |
You're welcome. All right then, off you go, to spend it on penny whistles and moon pies. |
Moon pies, my butt... Somebody oughta moon pie her... |
What's the problem, boy? |
I've been bustin' my hump all week for that withered old clam, and all I got was fifty cents. |
Hey, when I was your age, fifty cents was a lot of money. |
Really? |
Dad, I've done everything I could and I've only got thirty-five bucks. Ugh.. I am through with working. Working is for chumps. |
Son, I'm proud of you. I was twice your age before I figured that out. |
Can you let me have it for forty dollars? |
Forty bucks? Forget it! You made me get off my stool for that? |
It's all I've got. I sold seeds. I visited my aunt in the nursing home. I fished a dime out of the sewer, for God's sake! |
No way. What do you want? |
Can I have it for thirty-five? |
No!... No!... Freakin' kids. I do not need this, I've got a Masters degree in folklore and mythology. |
Excuse me, do you have the Carl Yastrzemski baseball card from 1973, when he had big sideburns? |
Show me the thirty bucks, because if you ain't got it, I ain't gettin' off the stool. |
Wait a minute, Martin. If you, Milhouse and I went in together, we could buy a copy of "Radioactive Man No. 1" right now! |
Here you go. "Muttonchop Yaz." |
I don't want it. |
Freakin' kids! |
Look, pal. We've got a hundred bucks and we'd like to buy "Radioactive Man No. 1". So why don't you just waddle over there and get it. |
Yes sir. |
Wow! Breathe it in, boys! |
This is the stuff dreams are made of. |
It smells like my grandpa. |
Uh-oh, looks like rain. We better get this baby home. |
Looks like you bought more than you bargained for. |
My pants... caught on barbed wire... Good Lord Choke... an A-bomb! |
Yaarrgh! |
I'm becoming radioactive. From this day forward, I shall call myself Radioactive Man. |
So that's how it happened! |
I would've thought being hit by an atomic bomb would have killed him. |
Now you know better. |
Turn the page, Bart. |
Listen, you guys are welcome to come over and read it any time you like. |
Why can't we keep it at my house? |
Your house? That's crazy talk! |
Well, the comic's ours as much as it is yours. |
How about this, guys. Bart can have it Mondays and Thursdays. Milhouse will get it Tuesdays and Fridays. And yours truly will take it Wednesdays and Saturdays. |
Perfect. |
Wait a minute. What about Sunday? |
Yeah. What about Sunday? |
Well, Sunday possession will be determined by a random number generator. I will take the digits one through three. Milhouse will have four through six. And Bart will have seven through nine. |
Perfect. |
Wait a minute. What about zero? |
Yeah! What about zero? |
Well, in the unlikely event of a zero, possession will be determined by "Rock, Scissor, Paper" competition. Best three out of five, how's that? |