Homer: Lisa, you like homework. Could you fill out this form for me?
Lisa: Well, all right. If you'll listen to the poem I just wrote.
Homer: D'oh!!... Oh, okay.
Lisa: "Meditations on Turning Eight", by Lisa Simpson. [reads] "I had a cat named Snowball. / She died, she died! / Mom said she was sleeping. / She lied, she lied! / Why oh why is my cat dead? / Couldn't that Chrysler hit me instead? / I had a hamster named Snuffy. / He died--"
Homer: [takes his form] No deal!
Doctor: Well, Mr. Simpson, after talking with your wife, we can see that you are not insane.
Homer: Wow, that's the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me. Could I have that in writing?
Mr. Burns: Quit complaining! This way I don't have to waste money on morphine! Well Smithers, you were right, he was not dead. I guess I owe you a Coke after all. And as for you, you clinking, clattering cacophany of colligenous cog and camshifts, take that! [Mr. Burns kicks the robot, which tips and looms over him.]
Smithers: Run, sir!
[The robot lands on Mr. Burns, crushing him save for his head.]
Mr. Burns: Every bone in my body broken... vital organs leaking fluid... slight headache... loss of appetite...Smithers, I'm going to die.
Smithers: No sir! Is there anything I can do?
Mr. Burns: We have one chance. Go to my office. Second drawer...there is some ether...
[Homer awakens, then walks into bathroom to remind himself that it was only a nightmare. When he closes the medicine cabinet, he sees Mr. Burns' head grafted onto him.]
Mr. Burns: Perhaps you're wondering why you have two heads. Well my body was crushed, so my head was grafted onto your, shall we say, ample frame.
Homer: [hyperventilating] I didn't wake up! It's all a dream! It's just a dream!
Mr. Burns: Oh that's right! It's all a dream! Or is it? [laughs evilly]
[Screen fades to black as creepy music plays, then the scene resumes with the normal Simpsons music; looking like a canonical episode.]
Narrator: Next week, on "The Simpsons":
Lisa: Don't forget Dad, tonight my class is having an all-you-can-eat spaghetti dinner.
Mr. Burns: But Homer, tonight's our meeting for Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands.
Homer: You know, Marge, that Bart is a little miracle – his winning smile, his button nose, his fat little stomach, his face alight with wholesome mischief. He reminds me of me before the weight of the world crushed my spirit.
Homer's Brain: Don't you get it? You've got to use reverse psychology.
[Homer and Marge are on TV being interviewed by Kent Brockman.]
Kent Brockman: So, it seems we've all been victims of a cruel hoax, masterminded by a 10-year old hooligan. The time has come for finger-pointing, and most of them are squarely aimed at the boy's parents.
Homer: It's not our fault! We didn't want the boy, he was an accident!
Troy McClure: But remember: we can't tell you how to have a good time. You have to tell us! As I said to Dolores Montenegro in Calling All Quakers: Have it your way, baby! [Exits the picture via a hang glider]
Marge: [picks up phone] Hello, Room Service? I'd like a banana fudge sundae. With whipped cream! And some chocolate chip cheesecake. And a bottle of tequila!
[Bart is reading a postcard Homer sent to Marge once from a brewery]
Homer: [voiceover, drunken voice] Maybe it's the beer talkin', Marge, but you've got a butt that won't quit. They got these big chewy pretzels here... [unintelligible muttering] Five dollars?! Get outta here.
Bart: Wow, a side of Dad I've never seen.
[The Flanders family is sitting at the dinner table.]
Maude: Todd, would you like some mixed vegetables?
Ned: Alright, that's it, young man! No Bible stories for you tonight!
[Todd runs upstairs crying.]
Maude: Weren't you a little hard on him?
Ned: Well, you knew I had a temper when you married me.
Homer:[Attempting to build a doghouse for Santa's Little Helper] Stupid Lumber!
[The wood cracks and he is furious]
Homer: Damn it! [Unintelligible cursing] Oh to hell with this.
[Homer is still trying to build the doghouse when he accidentally hits his finger with his hammer.]
Homer: Aw, fudge! That's... broken. (steps on a nail) Tweedle-dee-dee! That will require a tetanus shot. I'm not going to swear... but I'm going to KICK THIS DOGHOUSE DOWN!!!
[He starts screaming gibberish and kicking the doghouse. Marge and Lisa arrives with a newly purchased doghouse for Santa's Little Helper from the money in the Swear Jar with an added bonus: Duff Beer for Homer for his commitment in withholding the use of profanity.]
Steve Sax: [while driving down a street] What a nice little town. Maybe I'll buy a home here when I retire. [Steve hears a police siren and pulls over as Eddie and Lou walk over] What seems to be the problem, officers?
Eddie: Nothing to do with you, smart guy.
Lou: Reach for your license... [cocks guns] ...slowly.
Eddie: Well, well. Steve Sax from New York City.
Lou: I heard some guy got killed in New York and they never solved the case. But you wouldn't know anything about that now, would you, Steve? [They both burst out laughing in front of Steve]
Steve Sax: But there's hundreds of unsolved murders in New York City.
Lou: You don't know when to keep your mouth shut do you, Saxy boy?
[Meanwhile, at the Springfield General Hospital, Mike Scioscia is hospitalized due to acute radiation poisoning; Dr. Hibbert is checking his body with a scanner]
Dr. Hibbert: Uh, Mike, try to lift your arm.
Mike Scioscia: [speaking in a painful and slow rate] Can't... lift... arm... or... speak... at... normal... rate.
Dr. Hibbert: I'm afraid you have a case of acute radiation poisoning, Mr. Scioscia.
Mike Scioscia: [still speaking in a painful and slow rate] Will... I... be able... to play... softball... tomorrow?
Dr. Hibbert: [Chuckling] No. By tomorrow you'll barely be able to breathe.
Mike Scioscia: [still speaking in a painful and slow rate] Oh, man... [He tilts to the left to sleep. A nurse runs up to Dr. Hibbert.]
Nurse: Dr. Hibbert, Ken Griffey Jr. needs to see you immediately. We think it's an overdose of nerve tonic.
[Dr. Hibbert opens the curtains and was shocked]
Dr. Hibbert: Good Lord! [We see Ken Griffey Jr. in a wheelchair because has his body along with his head inflated, due to overdose of nerve tonic] Gigantism!
[At night, José Canseco was walking down the street whistling until he sees a woman standing outside of a burning house]
Woman: My baby! My baby!
José Canseco: [being loyal] Don't worry, ma'am. I'll save your baby. [He runs inside a burning house and rescues the baby unharmed]
Woman: Oh, thank you, Mr. Canseco. [She hears a car meowing][Gasps] My cat!
José Canseco: [still being loyal] Never fear, ma'am. I'll save your cat. [He runs back inside a burning house and rescues the cat unharmed]
Woman: [Hears someone playing a piano and gasps again] My player piano!
José Canseco: [sighs] Oh, man! [He runs to the house until a door explodes making him stand back.]
Mr. Burns: Mattingly. For the last time, get rid of those sideburns.
Don Mattingly: Mr. Burns, I don't know what you think sideburns are, but--
Mr. Burns: (cuts Mattingly off) Don't argue with me! Just get rid of them!
[Don Mattingly walks off to get his "sideburns" shaved; Mr. Burns sits next to Smithers]
Mr. Burns: Smithers, it's almost game time. Where the devil are my ringers?
Smithers: Sir, Mike Scioscia may not live through the night, Steve Sax is looking at six consecutive life sentences and Ozzie Smith seems to have vanished off the face of the earth.
[We see Ozzie Smith still falling and screaming through a red and blue wavy tunnel, until he stops and takes a picture]
Ozzie Smith: Cool! [He carries on screaming]
Mr. Burns: What about Canseco?
[Meanwhile, José Canseco has rescued all of the household furniture from a burning house. He puts the dryer down next to the washer.]
Woman: The dryer goes on the right.
José Canseco: [sighs, but still loyal and easily calm] Yes, ma'am. [He lifts up the dryer and puts it on the right next to the washer.]
Mr. Burns: What about Clemens?
Smithers: Sir, he's in no condition to play.
[We see Roger Clemens acting like a chicken which causes Burns to get frustrated.]
Mr. Burns: That damn hypnotist! [He angrily runs up to the hypnotist who is eating a sandwich] You! Look what you've done! My starting pitcher thinks he's a chicken! I'm going to report this to the American Hypnotical Association.
Hypnotist: But I did a good job. [He pulls out his pocket watch and waves it in front of Burns.] A good job.
Mr. Burns: [under spell] Well, I guess it's not your fault. You did a good job.
[Mr. Burns sees Don Mattingly, who has shaved off his "sideburns" (and most of the rest of his hair).]
Mr. Burns: [gasps and confronts him] Mattingly! I thought I told you to trim those sideburns! Go home! You're off the team! FOR GOOD!!
Don Mattingly: Fine. [mutters to himself as he walks away] I still like him better than Steinbrenner.
Lisa: Well, I'm going to be a famous jazz musician. I've got it all figured out. I'll be unappreciated in my own country, but my gutsy blues stylings will electrify the French. I'll avoid the horrors of drug abuse, but I do plan to have several torrid love affairs, and I may or may not die young. I haven't decided.
Bart: Seymour, I'll bet you a steak dinner those books are still here. All we have to do is search every locker.
Principal Skinner: Oh, Bart, I'm not sure random locker searches are permitted by the Supreme Court.
Bart: Pfft! Supreme Court. What have they done for us lately?
Principal Skinner: Let's move.
[Lisa is sent to Skinner's office for disciplinary action in her telling off Miss Hoover. She has a toothpick in her mouth.]
Principal Skinner: I've never seen such a good student take a tumble. Lisa, what are you rebelling against anyway?
Lisa: Whaddya got?!
[Skinner looks at Lisa, horrified that she had become a sulkier, rebellious version of Bart]
Homer: I can't get your song out of my mind. I haven't felt this way since "Funkytown!" Can I get a copy?
Lurleen: [pointing to her noggin] Sorry, Homer. All my songs are up here: "I'm Basting a Turkey With my Tears," "Don't Look Up my Dress Unless You Mean It," "I'm Sick of Your Lying Lips and False Teeth..."
[Lurleen records a new song]
Lurleen: Oh the bases were empty on the diamond of my heart,
When the coach called me up to the plate,
I'd been swingin', and missin', at lovin' and kissin',
My average was point double oh eight.
So I spit on my hands, knocked the dirt from my spikes,
And pointed right towards center field,
This time I'm hitting a home run,
This time, love is for real.
I'll slide... I'll steal... I'll sacrifice
A lovin' fly for you,
I been slumping all season but now I found a reason,
I struck on a love that is true.
I used to play the field,
I used to be a roamer,
But the season's turning 'round for me now,
I finally bagged me a homer.
That's right, I finally bagged me a Homer.
Studio Manager: Um, Lurleen, we're gonna have to cut you off, we're getting some kind of grinding noise on the track. [cut to Marge grinding her teeth]