Two Dozen And One Greyhounds

Kent Brockman:Zoo officials were quick to act on the escaped rhino.

Kent Brockman:However, they seem to have forgotten about the larger rhino that's been loose for a week.

Homer:My car is destroyed! My house is destroyed! My entire life is destroyed!

Homer:And it's all because of one man... Ned Flanders and his stupid left-handed scissors!

Homer:Well, I may destroy things, but it's usually for a good cause. Like, uh... social commentary.

Homer:Boy, you're lucky. Nobody's blaming you for this.

Homer:If they were, I'd give you such a spankering!

Homer:I buried my old record collection in the backyard. Got some real gems in there—my complete Manilow collection, every Air Supply album, even a Barry Gibb solo record.

Marge:Homer, why would you bury those?

Homer:So the guys don't find out. And... there's also a Starland Vocal Band boxed set. It's not even my size anymore, Marge.

Homer:My house is destroyed, my family is gone, but at least I still have cable TV!

TV Announcer:We apologize for the interruption. Please stand by.

TV Announcer:We interrupt this program to bring you important health information. Prolonged television exposure can lead to addiction, sedentary lifestyle, and increased radiation from the screen.

TV Announcer:Symptoms include inability to look away, compulsive remote-clicking, and an unexplained craving for snack foods.

TV Announcer:If you experience glowing skin, levitation, or the ability to predict the future, seek medical attention immediately.

TV Announcer:Warning: This program contains scenes of withered genitals.

Homer:Withered genitals? Eh, I've seen worse.

Homer:We need help with our dog.

Marge:He's been acting strange lately.

Pet Store Clerk:Ah yes, the flea medication. That'll make him go blind.

Homer:What?! Blind?!

Pet Store Clerk:Well, not permanently. Just for a few hours after application.

Pet Store Clerk:I have a rare psychic power.

Customer:Really? What is it?

Pet Store Clerk:I can read minds.

Customer:Wow, that's amazing!

Pet Store Clerk:Actually, never mind. Three other minimum-wage clerks have it too.

Pet Store Clerk:So your dog needs a new bed, some toys, and regular exercise.

Homer:A bed? Toys? Exercise? That's gonna cost me a fortune!

Pet Store Clerk:Well, he also needs a swimming pool, a home theater system, and a personal masseuse.

Homer:A masseuse?! What's next, a Ferrari?

Pet Store Clerk:Actually, he's been dreaming about a nuclear reactor in your backyard.

Homer:Now we're talking!

Homer:Don't worry, I'll catch that dog. And if I can't catch it, I'll shoot it.

Homer:Well, they said the dog was a safety hazard. Turns out, so was I.

Marge:Maybe we should split up to cover more ground.

Homer:Good idea! I'll check out the racetrack.

Homer:Marge, you're not very bright, are you? But I love you anyway.

Homer:Come on, boy! Come on! Yes! Yes! You're gonna win! You're gonna win!

Homer:Go, horse, go!

Race Announcer:And they're running neck and neck! Oh, what athletic prowess! They're so close, they're practically joined at the hip!

Homer:Oh! Santa's Little Helper has been acting up because he's in heat!

Homer:He needs to get laid!

Marge:Homer!

Homer:What? I'm just saying the dog needs to—

Marge:Couldn't you just let her go? She's suffering.

Track Owner:Lady, I got fifty dogs out there. You think I can afford to get sentimental about every fleabag that can't run fast enough?

Marge:Do you ever think about the horses that used to race here? Don't you wonder what happened to them?

Track Owner:Lady, I don't even remember their names. Once they stop making money, they're glue.

Bart:Hey, how come Santa's Little Helper won't play with me?

Homer:Because he's a bitch, son.

Marge:Homer!

Homer:What? That's what you call a female dog.

Marge:Bart! You can't use that word!

Bart:But Mom, it's in the dictionary.

Marge:Well, then we'll just have to get a new dictionary.

Bart:Cool! Puppies!

Homer:Homer wants to pet the puppies.

Marge:Homer, no! She's still delivering.

Bart:Whoa! Check it out, man. Another one's coming out!

Lisa:Oh, the miracle of birth.

Bart:Yeah, it's pretty gross.

Homer:Santa's Little Helper, I'm sorry I called you fat. I didn't know you were pregnant.

Marge:Homer, that's still not very nice.

Homer:Well, what do you want me to say? 'Sorry I called you a whale'?

Homer:One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four...

Homer:Wait, that can't be right. Let me count again.

Marge:Homer, what is it?

Homer:Marge, we have one hundred and twenty-three puppies.

Bart:Whoa! 25 puppies! With these, I could finally stand up to Nelson!

Homer:That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard, boy.

Bart:Oh yeah? Well, Nelson wouldn't think so if he had a pack of rabid dogs attacking him!

Bart:You heard me, man. I've got an army of dogs now. You're gonna regret ever messing with me.

Nelson:Oh yeah? Well, you're still a dork, dork.

Bart:Oh, I'm sorry. Did my dogs hurt your feelings?

Bart:Here, let me make it up to you. Can I get you anything? A juice box? A band-aid?

Marge:Oh, look at these puppies! Aren't they just adorable?

Homer:Yeah, yeah, they're cute. Unlike my family, who are barely sentient.

Bart:Ay caramba! We're infested!

Homer:Quick, everyone get a flea collar!

Marge:Homer, those are for dogs.

Homer:I know, but the fleas don't!

Lisa:Actually, flea collars emit pesticide vapors that repel parasites through—

Bart:Whoa, whoa, whoa. Look at us. We're all wearing dog collars now.

Bart:Why do I have to wear a flea collar?

Marge:Because you've been scratching, sweetie.

Homer:I'm cleaning up after Santa's Little Helper!

Marge:Homer, what are you doing?

Homer:Laying down fresh newspaper. When this layer gets dirty, I'll just add another one on top.

Marge:That's not cleaning, that's just... layering!

Homer:Exactly! Efficient!

Marge:Homer, you can't just push all the dirt under the rug!

Homer:Why not? It's out of sight. Problem solved.

Marge:That's not how cleaning works!

Homer:Marge, Marge, Marge. I've been using this method for years. It's foolproof.

Bart:Why do I have to wear Lisa's dress?

Homer:Because the dogs destroyed all your clothes, boy.

Bart:This is the worst day of my life.

Lisa:At least you're not the one who has to look at you in it.

Bart:You can't give away Santa's Little Helper! He's family! What's next, you gonna sell Maggie to the highest bidder? Kick Lisa out on the street? Force me into child labor?

Homer:Now there's an idea.

Bart:So how do you get rid of inconvenient family members?

Grandpa:Well, you could always take 'em out to the woods and leave 'em there.

Grandpa:Hello? Hello?! Can anybody hear me? I'm stuck out here!

Marge:Well, I suppose we can keep the dogs. How hard could it be?

Homer:Woo-hoo! Dogs!

Marge:Homer, we need to be responsible about this.

Homer:Yeah, yeah, responsible. So... dinner party tonight?

Marge:What? Homer, no! Not with the dogs!

Homer:But the Flanders are expecting us!

Marge:Oh no, the three worst possible guests for chaos to happen around just arrived!

Homer:Who? Me, Barney, and Lenny?

Marge:No, it's you, your mother, and the baby.

Homer:Don't worry, I've got this dinner party completely under control. Nothing can go wrong tonight.

Marge:Homer, remember what happened last time you said that?

Homer:That was different. I'm confident. In fact, I guarantee it'll be the best dinner party this town has ever seen.

Reverend Lovejoy:And so we give thanks for this bountiful feast...

Homer:Mmmm... turkey...

Marge:Homer, the Reverend is still speaking.

Reverend Lovejoy:As I was saying, let us be grateful for—

Bart:Uh, guys?

Lisa:The turkey's loose!

Reverend Lovejoy:Good heavens! This turkey is positively demonic!

Reverend Lovejoy:If you don't watch your tone with me, boy, I'll give you a taste of the Lord's vengeance!

Retirement Home Worker:I'd be happy to take some puppies.

Retirement Home Worker:I accidentally killed the last one.

Mr. Burns:I'd cradle them gently in my arms and whisper sweet nothings in their ears.

Mr. Burns:Then I'd dress them in tiny tuxedos and teach them to say 'release the hounds.'

Mr. Burns:Eventually, I'd wear their skins as a coat and become one with them.

Marge:Well, I don't know anything about Mr. Burns' intentions, but he certainly is a man.

Marge:Homer, why is Mr. Burns calling every five minutes asking if I want to go out for a fancy dinner?

Homer:Uh... no reason.

Marge:And why did he send me a dozen roses with a card that says 'You're the only one for me'?

Homer:He's just being friendly!

Marge:Homer, what did you do?

Smithers:Sir, I must say, your kidnapping technique has really gone downhill. Where are the laser-equipped sharks? The elaborate death traps? This is just... crude.

Burns:Bah! Kidnapping is kidnapping, Smithers.

Smithers:Yes, but sir, you used to have such panache. Such diabolical flair. Now you're just grabbing people off the street like some common criminal.

Chief Wiggum:I'm not making a mess, I'm dusting for fingerprints with donut powder.

Mr. Burns:Why, what an adorable little fellow. I shall call him Smithers.

Smithers:Sir, I'm Smithers.

Mr. Burns:Ah yes, of course. Well then, I shall name the puppy... Rory Calhoun!

Smithers:But sir, Rory Calhoun is a man.

Mr. Burns:A man? How fascinating. I had no idea. Well, the puppy shall still be named Rory Calhoun.

Mr. Burns:Oh, the fox is on the run, and I have just begun, to make myself a coat of fur so fair!

Mr. Burns:I'll take the eyes of newts, the teeth of saber-tooths, and wear them as a hat up in my hair!

Mr. Burns:Tra-la-la-la-la, I'm gonna skin that mink, tra-la-la-la-la, I'll use it for a rink!

Mr. Burns:For I'm a man of style, who hasn't smiled since high school, and nothing turns my frown around like animal abuse!

Mr. Burns:I'm going hunting for sport, it's a traditional pastime. I'll track my prey through the woods with rifle in hand.

Mr. Burns:But really, I just want to wear this fabulous new safari outfit. The khaki really brings out my eyes, and the pith helmet is very slimming.

Mr. Burns:A vest made from an endangered species, it rhymes with 'shmendangered shmecies'!

Mr. Burns:We have shoes made of endangered species, Which is totally legal in all the right places. We tan the hides of the rarest of creatures, And put them on your feet with some premium features.

Mr. Burns:♪ Gophers, chauffeurs, plutonium rods ♪

Mr. Burns:♪ Socks, stocks, and daily nods ♪

Mr. Burns:♪ And if you don't like it, I'll fire you all! ♪

Mr. Burns:See my vest, see my vest, made from real gorilla chest. Feel this sweater, there's no better than authentic ape skin. And see this hat? 'Twas a real cat. Faboo! We took his feet off, now he'll never get away. And the little monkey hasn't been to class in 600 million years!

Smithers:Uh, sir, you look like a bona fide superhero.

Bart:I gotta admit, that villain song was really well-crafted.

Bart:Wait, cats have nine lives and dogs only have one? That's not fair!

Lisa:Bart, that's not how it works. Cats don't actually have nine lives, it's just a myth.

Bart:Oh man, and here I thought dogs were getting ripped off.

Bart:Dogs always land on their feet, right?

Lisa:No, that's cats.

Bart:Well, let's find out!

Mr. Burns:Well, well, well. What have we here?

Bart:Mr. Burns! How did you—

Mr. Burns:I own this laundry chute, Simpson. I own everything.

Mr. Burns:Theft? Bah! In my day, we called it 'aggressive acquisition.' Besides, I'm far too busy counting my money to worry about such trifles.

Mr. Burns:Now, my favorite puppy will stand on his hind legs. The rest of you, sit!

Mr. Burns:What?! They all know the trick! Blast! How will I ever identify my favorite?

Mr. Burns:Yes, yes, their deaths will be most... profitable.

Mr. Burns:Wait, what are these adorable little... Oh my stars, look at their tiny paws!

Mr. Burns:This is just like that time Lionel Barrymore refused to pet the kittens.

Mr. Burns:But I'm not Lionel Barrymore. I'm a monster!

Mr. Burns:Oh, you kids stand there like Rory Calhoun in a ditch!

Mr. Burns:I've seen the error of my ways. From now on, I shall treat all animals with kindness and respect.

Smithers:That's wonderful, sir!

Mr. Burns:Yes. Of course, this applies only to mammals. Reptiles, amphibians, and fish are still fair game. And birds—well, they're just rats with wings.

Kent Brockman:In other news, Mr. Burns' racing dogs have won seventeen consecutive races. When asked about his success, Mr. Burns had this to say.

Mr. Burns:Smithers, fetch my racing togs. I'm going to the track.

Kent Brockman:Meanwhile, Homer Simpson has decided to pursue his dream of becoming a professional liar.

Homer:Why did I let those dogs go? I had a chance to keep them and I blew it.

Homer:You know what? From now on, I'm going to be a cat. Cats don't have regrets.

Homer:Ooh, a light bulb!