Homer The Smithers

Homer:D'oh!

Race Announcer:Ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special benefit race today for our local daredevil who's fallen on hard times. All proceeds go to the Springfield Liver Disease Foundation!

Homer:Woo-hoo! Liver disease!

Marge:Oh, race cars! How wonderful that people are carpooling together like that. It's so environmentally conscious!

Mr. Burns:Ah, beer. The cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems. I was expecting this to make me younger or funkier.

Mr. Burns:Smithers, hand me my binoculars.

Smithers:Right away, sir.

Mr. Burns:Ah yes, a splendid view through my binocliers.

Mr. Burns:Ah, a car race. Gentlemen, I want those cars to go slower.

Smithers:But sir, it's a race.

Mr. Burns:Slower! I didn't pay good money to watch them zoom about willy-nilly.

Smithers:Mr. Burns, I've implemented your order to make cars go slower.

Burns:Excellent, Smithers. How did you manage it?

Smithers:I simply asked all the race car drivers to slow down.

Mr. Burns:Smithers, why is my foam finger so large? It's impractical for actual pointing.

Smithers:Sir, that's the point of a novelty foam finger. It's meant to be oversized and amusing.

Mr. Burns:Amusing? Smithers, I don't find poor engineering amusing. Have it tailored to actual finger proportions at once.

Homer:Hey Mr. Burns, what's up, homie? You're da bomb!

Mr. Burns:Simpson, what in blazes are you talking about?

Homer:Don't be all like that, dude. We're bros now. Let's go catch some radical waves!

Mr. Burns:I haven't the faintest idea what you're saying.

Homer:Mr. Burns! Great to see you!

Mr. Burns:Good heavens! Release me, you brute!

Mr. Burns:Smithers! Smithers, help me!

Smithers:Coming, sir!

Mr. Burns:I was nearly accosted by Homer Simpson today. The man extended his hand in what he called a 'friendly gesture.' I could feel the calluses, the warmth, the very humanity of it all pressing against my palm. It was ghastly.

Smithers:Sir, I believe that's just a handshake.

Mr. Burns:A handshake?! Smithers, the man tried to establish physical contact! I may never recover. Have my afternoon martini brought to the medical wing. I require an IV of $100 bills for my nerves.

Smithers:Oh Mr. Burns, I'm terribly sorry about that handshake. I don't know what came over me. My palm was sweaty, my grip was too firm... I've brought such shame upon myself and this office.

Mr. Burns:Smithers, it was just a handshake.

Smithers:Just a handshake?! I might as well have spit in your face! I'm a disgrace to personal hygiene and professional etiquette. I should resign immediately and move to a remote island where I can harm no one with my cursed, clammy hands!

Smithers:I've alphabetized your breakfast, sir. Apricots, bacon, cantaloupe, danish, eggs...

Smithers:Would you like me to laminate today's newspaper, sir? It would preserve it for posterity.

Mr. Burns:Laminating a newspaper defeats its purpose, Smithers.

Mr. Burns:Blast! This laminated newspaper won't take my pen!

Smithers:Perhaps you'd like to try something else, sir?

Mr. Burns:Excellent idea, Smithers. Hand me those children's word puzzles.

Mr. Burns:Now let's see... 'Find the differences between these two pictures.' Ah yes, much more my speed.

Smithers:I'm not very good at groveling, am I, sir?

Smithers:Oh, Mr. Burns, I've failed you again. I am but a wretched, unworthy servant, groveling in the dirt of your magnificent shadow.

Mr. Burns:Yes, yes, quite right. Now stop your blubbering and fetch my martini.

Smithers:At once, sir! Though I hardly deserve to breathe the same air as one who commands the very heavens themselves!

Mr. Burns:I don't need Smithers to help me burp. I'm perfectly capable of burping on my own.

Smithers:Of course, sir. I never suggested otherwise.

Mr. Burns:Good. Because I can burp whenever I want. Without any assistance whatsoever. No burping help required.

Mr. Burns:I don't need anyone's help. I'm completely self-sufficient.

Mr. Burns:Why, just last week I changed my own lightbulb.

Smithers:Sir, I changed it while you were napping.

Mr. Burns:Silence! I'm telling this story.

Smithers:Let's see... 'incompetent'... *flipping through files* Good heavens, there are quite a lot of these.

Smithers:Homer Simpson... Lenny Leonard... Carl Carlson... Barney Gumble... Why, half the plant is in here!

Smithers:And some of these descriptions are rather harsh. 'Dumber than a box of rocks'... 'couldn't find his way out of a paper bag'... 'makes Homer look like a genius'...

Smithers:Oh my. This one just says 'Why is he still employed?' with seventeen question marks.

Smithers:I need to find someone truly incompetent for this task. Let me check the files... Actually, never mind. Homer Simpson.

Smithers:He's the obvious choice.

Homer:They chose me because I'm the best worker here.

Homer:Everyone else just works harder to make up for me.

Lisa:Dad, you should try to be more responsible with your money.

Marge:Dad, you should try to be more responsible with your money.

Lisa:Mom, you should really try listening to what people say instead of just hearing what you want to hear.

Marge:You're absolutely right, Lisa. I'll start listening better.

Homer:Marge, you didn't hear a word Lisa said, did you?

Marge:Oh, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm not perfect like some people!

Marge:I am NOT repeating Lisa! I have my own thoughts!

Marge:And another thing - why does Homie always leave his socks all over the living room?

Marge:And don't even get me started on how no one appreciates my pot roast anymore!

Smithers:Your job is to perform a series of complex duties including quality control inspections, safety compliance reviews, and interdepartmental coordination.

Homer:Wait, wait, wait. Did you say 'quality control'? Does that mean I get to control the quality?

Smithers:2,800 jobs is an absurdly large number to call 'small'

Smithers:Well, sir, your duties will include some light filing, answering phones, and some light murder.

Homer:Mmm, murder.

Homer:Mr. Burns has a mother? So that means someone had sex with Mr. Burns?

Homer:I didn't think he was a baby once. He must be 810 years old.

Homer:So what was Mr. Burns' mother like?

Smithers:Oh, she was a very strong woman. She had Mr. Burns doing chores and making his bed until the day she died.

Homer:Wow, so she really kept him in line.

Smithers:Yes. In fact, I think that's all he really needs — someone to boss him around and tell him when to eat.

Smithers:Sir, about your family's historical scandals...

Mr. Burns:Yes, yes, Smithers. We Burnses have always been... colorful.

Smithers:Indeed, sir. I was just reading that your great-grandfather was involved in a rather unseemly incident with a maharaja.

Mr. Burns:Bah! Ancient history! Now fetch me my prune juice.

Homer:An affair? Heh heh, way to go, Mr. President!

Homer:I understand 100 out of 2,800 of my duties.

Smithers:Which duty is most problematic?

Homer:CPR.

Mr. Burns:Smithers! I thought that was you!

Homer:Actually, sir, it's me, Homer Simpson. I work in Sector 7G.

Mr. Burns:Sector 7G? I have no idea who you are. Now where is Smithers?

Mr. Burns:I'd like my lunch now. Have the chef prepare me a nice dodo egg omelette.

Smithers:Sir, the dodo has been extinct for over 300 years.

Mr. Burns:Then it had better be fresh!

Homer:Well, you see, the dodo bird went extinct because—

Lenny:Nobody cares, Homer.

Homer:D'oh!

Homer:Why won't these pants go on? Oh, I see the problem - they've got two legs! Who designs pants with two legs?

Homer:Here's your breakfast, Mr. Burns.

Mr. Burns:What are these circular confections?

Homer:Doughnuts, sir.

Mr. Burns:Doughnuts? How... ethnic.

Mr. Burns:Simpson, I'm concerned about my stock portfolio. What do you think I should do?

Homer:Well, Mr. Burns, I'd say you should buy low and sell high.

Mr. Burns:Yes, yes, that's basic investing wisdom.

Homer:Or better yet, just buy stock in things you like. I own three shares of Duff beer and two shares of donut company.

Mr. Burns:Simpson, those aren't publicly traded companies.

Homer:Well they should be! I'd be a millionaire by now.

Mr. Burns:What are my options?

Homer:Well, you could have the oatmeal or the eggs. The toast is a little burnt, but I kinda like it that way.

Mr. Burns:Simpson, I'd like a report on the accounting department.

Homer:Well, sir, the accounting department is on the second floor. They come in at 9 AM and leave at 5 PM. They like donuts.

Homer:You have one new message. Beep.

Homer:Homer, this is the police. You have a five-thousand-dollar parking violation.

Homer:Homer, this is the I.R.S. You owe us twelve million dollars.

Homer:Homer, this is the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We have a warrant for your arrest.

Homer:Homer, this is the state of Nevada. Your gambling debts have made you a wanted man.

Homer:Homer, we're going to have to ask you to move your cube.

Homer:Hello? Oh no, it's the cube! It's calling me!

Homer:I knew this day would come!

Mr. Burns:Simpson, you're a wonder. A man of such little intelligence, yet somehow you continue to draw breath.

Mr. Burns:It's like watching a lower life form struggle through existence. Fascinating, really.

Marge:Homer is not just an employee, he's part of this family!

Marge:Now honey, could you pick up some groceries on your way home from work?

Mr. Burns:Smithers, these fluorescent lights are far too bright. Have them dimmed immediately.

Smithers:But sir, they're already at the lowest setting.

Mr. Burns:Then turn them off entirely. I'll navigate by the glow of Simpson's incompetence.

Mr. Burns:You're a... a... bah! Oh, forget it. I'm too angry to insult you properly. Just... get out of my sight, you blithering... no, that's not even... Smithers, why can't I think of a good insult?

Homer:Work? Don't get me started on work. My boss Mr. Burns is the worst. You know, I've done a lot of terrible things for that man.

Homer:I've lied, I've cheated, I've even... well, let's just say if anyone ever found out what happened to Lenny that time, I'd be in big trouble.

Homer:So I punched this extremely elderly man.

Moe:Hello?

Burns:Smithers, is that you?

Moe:No, this is Moe's Tavern.

Burns:Oh, wrong number.

Moe:Wait, wait, wait! You got the wrong number, pal? I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna come down there, tie you to a chair, saw off your legs, and feed 'em to ya. Then I'm gonna use your femur as a back scratcher!

Moe:I'm gonna come down there and I'm gonna tie you to a chair, pour honey all over you, and let a swarm of angry bees chase you through a maze of razor blades while a marching band plays 'Yakety Sax' in the background!

Mr. Burns:Homer, I must implore you to refrain from penetrating the threshold of my domicile.

Homer:D'oh!

Mr. Burns:Ah, the accelerator. Or as I like to call it, the 'go-go juice pedal.'

Mr. Burns:And this must be the brake. The 'whoa-nelly apparatus.'

Mr. Burns:I'm doing it! I'm actually doing it! I'm driving!

Mr. Burns:Stand back, peasants! I'm operating a vehicle!

Mr. Burns:Ahoy!

Mr. Burns:This is a telephone machine.

Mr. Burns:Smithers! My faithful servant, how I've missed you!

Smithers:Mr. Burns! I've waited so long for your return. I've kept everything exactly as you left it.

Mr. Burns:Yes, yes, very touching. You're fired.

Smithers:What?! But sir, I—

Mr. Burns:Don't make me repeat myself. Clean out your desk.

Homer:Marge, I know how hard you work. All day, you're on your feet, dealing with all those customers...

Marge:Homer, I don't work with customers. I'm a homemaker.

Homer:Right, right. Homemaker. Very demanding. All that... making homes.

Dr. Hibbert:Well, it appears the piano has crushed several of your internal organs. You're very lucky — most people would be dead.

Race announcer:Mayhem! Mayhem! Mayhem!

Smithers:Sir, isn't that just one thing repeated three times?

Race announcer:Quiet, you!

Smithers:I heard you might be hiring.

Moe:Yeah, I need someone to prevent Barney from stealing beer.

Smithers:That sounds like a full-time job.

Moe:It's more than full-time. It's a life sentence.

Smithers:I know exactly how to get my job back. I'll appeal to Mr. Burns' one weakness.

Homer:What is it?

Smithers:Compliments about his appearance.

Mona Simpson:Montgomery, you haven't called your mother in weeks! I'm so angry I could spit!

Mona Simpson:You're a no-good ruffian and a scoundrel! And that atom mill you work at is nothing but a sweatshop!

Mona Simpson:You're a blackguard and a cad! A real pill!

Mrs. Burns:Why you impudent little brassafrax!

Homer (as Burns):Mother, I'm sorry about that time I tried to kill you.

Mona Simpson:Oh, that's alright, dear.

Smithers:Now remember, Mr. Burns' mother was a very desiccated woman.

Homer:Desiccated?

Smithers:Yes, dried up. So try to look withered and depleted.

Mr. Burns:Stop it, both of you! This is the worst display of pugilistic incompetence I've ever witnessed. Smithers, you're throwing like a girl. And Homer, you're so fat, you're creating your own gravitational pull!

Homer:Why you little—

Mr. Burns:Oh please, continue groveling in the dirt like the common swine you are.

Burns:Listen carefully, Simpson. To make a phone call, you must first pick up the receiver.

Homer:D'oh!

Burns:Then dial the number.

Homer:D'oh!

Burns:And speak clearly into the mouthpiece.

Homer:D'oh!

Mr. Burns:Take this, Simpson!

Homer:Why you old—

Mr. Burns:Smithers! Hand me that telephone!

Mr. Burns:Hyah!

Homer:Oof!

Mr. Burns:Hello? Yes, this is Burns. No, I can't talk right now, I'm in the middle of something.

Kent Brockman:We interrupt this program to bring you this special news bulletin. A massive toxic waste spill has devastated the Springfield area, killing all aquatic life within a fifty-mile radius. The devastation is catastrophic and irreversible.

Smithers:Careful, sir. The bear's eye is still hot.

Homer:I'm getting a medal for bravery!

Lisa:That's great, Dad. Although it does seem odd that we're rewarding violence.

Homer:Violence? I didn't use violence!

Lisa:Well, not this time anyway.