35x05 - Treehouse of Horror XXXIV

[bunniefuu]

- ♪
- _

Art lovers of Springfield, good news.

The art museum is closed forever!

[SCATTERED APPLAUSE]

Instead,
our entire collection will be digitized

and sold for a fortune on the blockchain

as non-fungible tokens, or NFTs.

Whatever the hell those are.

[CHUCKLES]

Now let's turn some of our crappy art

into computer money.

Starting with a true masterpiece,
my butt.

[LAUGHS]

_

[WHIRRING]

Uh, Dad?

Ah! Technology!

[PHONE CHIMES]

I've lost Bart forever!

No!

- [CASH REGISTER RINGS]
- _

Yes!

- _
- [WHIRRING]

Honey? Remember how we're always saying

we wish Bart was less fungible?

Did something happen to Bart?

Only the parts you can hug.

The rest is alive,
right here on my phone.

[YELPS] My baby is an app!

Uh, no, apps actually do stuff.

He's an NFT.

- But look how much he's worth.
- [GASPS]

For Bart? Hmm.

Imagine what we'd get for Lisa.

He is the first NFT of an actual person.

I don't care.

We've got to find a way to get him back.

[HOODED FIGURE] To do that, you,
yourself must enter the blockchain.

Who are you?

We are the enlightened intellects

who safeguard the crypto-verse.

[HOMER] Kylie Jenner, Rob Gronkowski,

and Jimmy Fallon.

I thought you were
just celebrity shills.

Ugh, we would never promote a technology

if we didn't understand
the distributed ledger

underpinning it.

Der!

[LAUGHS] I can't stop laughing, buddy.

[HOMER] Shut up.

You ruined "cowbell."

This key is a back door

through the blockchain's
cryptographic protocol.

Once you're inside, find Bart

and use it to get both of you out.

[GRUNTS]

[WHIRRING]

Huh, so this is the blockchain.

No, noob, this is the block-train.

Speeding forever through
the loveless icy world

created by crypto-bros.

Powered by the most abundant
fuel in the universe:

FOMO, the Fear Of Missing Out.

For a digital incarnation of an
abstract mathematical concept,

it could use a good dusting.

[BRITISH ACCENT] Well, that's because
this is the last car of the train, innit?

The dwelling place of
NFTs with no value.

Which is % of all NFTs ever created.

Huh, I guess being
the second-ever human NFT

isn't worth a whole lot.

Where do they keep my son?

[FRENCH ACCENT] At the
very front of the train

where you can never go.

Watch me!

[GRUNTS]

[LAUGHTER]

Whoa!

[RETCHING] You k*lled ennui oeuf .

[WHIRRING]

Congratulations,
you've moved up the train

because you are now as valuable as us,

the cuddle kittens.

Because you k*lled another NFT.

What you call mindless slaughter,

crypto-bros call "disruption,"

and then pour cash into it.

So, to rescue Bart,

I need to k*ll a bunch of you guys.

[POPPING]

Ooh.

Well, I guess I got to do this.

[YOWLING]

Sorry! Nothing personal!

Hope... you... can't... feel... pain.
[GRUNTS]

[WHIRRING]

[WHIRRING]

[LISA] Mom's price is skyrocketing!

Look at the FOMO!

Now everyone's gonna want human NFTs.

Dad, you said you were
taking me to bumper boats.

I am. Uh, have some more chocolate milk.

No one is putting another
child into that scanner...

before mine.

- [GRUNTING]
- Hey!

[WHIRRING]

[GASPS]

Please k*ll Ralph-house.

[SQUISHING]

[WHIRRING]

The front of the train. I made it.

Bart! We're getting out of here!

Whoa, Mom, what's the rush?

Grab yourself a jaded
ape and take a load off.

You never like my friends.

Mom's almost got Bart out.

Don't let your son become
a worthless human again.

Sell him to me

- for $ million.
- Hmm!

No, Dad! If you sell Bart to Mr. Burns,

he'll be trapped on
the blockchain forever.

But this is my chance not to miss out,

after I've missed out on everything.

The housing bubble,
the first tech bubble,

the second tech bubble,
the current tech bubble.

Just one time, I want to be the guy

that gives all his
money to Bernie Madoff!

Mom, get out of there!
Dad's gonna cr*ck!

- _
- He did it.

I can't believe he did it.

[WHIRRING]

- We made it.
- Where's Homer?

I want to tell him the
inside of his phone smells.

He-he sold himself.

He was so afraid of missing out,

he tokened his own life.

Woo-hoo!

Eternity on a super swanky train.

Ooh, twerked chicken.

[RUMBLING]

What happened?

Our FOMO, it's gone.

The NFT craze is over.

D'oh!

[HOMER] Ah,
the romance of train travel.

- ♪
- _

♪ And it's clearly to his credit ♪

♪ That he is an Englishman ♪

♪ He remains ♪

♪ An Eng ♪

♪ Lish... ♪

Wait. Did you only ask me to sing

to forestall your gruesome end?

Guilty as charged. [LAUGHS]

- [BART GRUNTING]
- [LAUGHING]

[SCREAMS]

Ha!

_

It was only by following my hunch

that we found the East Side strangler

on the west side of town.

Can you explain how you
overcame childhood trauma

to become the nation's most
renowned criminal psychologist?

For that story,
you'll have to read my book.

- [SCHOOL BELL RINGS]
- [INDISTINCT CHATTER]

Office Muntz.

Told you I'd smell you later.

Been a long time.

Ah, look at us.

We thought we were gonna
stay young forever.

Some of us did.

Oh, right, like Bart,
because he got m*rder*d.

Speaking of gruesome junk,

we could use your help on a case.

I'm flattered, but I'm the Dean
of the true crime department.

I can't just run off and...

The k*ller left a message.

And we think it's for you.

- ♪
- _

_

Maybe Rod Flanders did grow up to become

a shockingly foul-mouthed prop comedian,

but he didn't deserve this.

Only a super-traumatized
profiler like you

can piece together what happened here.

Hmm.

[BREATHES DEEPLY, SIGHS]

[LISA] Our k*ller took his time.

Had fun with it.

Enjoyed a game of solitaire.

Red king on a red queen?

This psycho doesn't play by the rules.

Damn, she's good.

Here, he had one of those moments

where you walk into a room and
forget what you came in for.

How did my guys miss that?

One more thing.

This k*ller won't stop now.

There will be others.

Sarge, there's been another.

_

How can he also be the first?

Sarge, we got another one.

- _
- [WHISTLES]

Boy, that's something
you don't see every...

One more, sarge.

Got another one, sarge.

The severed hand opens the fridge,

which tugs on that strip of sinew,

turning over the eyeball cup,

which rolls down the spine,
startles a cat,

which leaps onto the butter dish seesaw,

and sends the other eyeball flying,

turning on the coffee maker.

Even I can't get inside
a mind this deranged.

There's only one person who can.

[THUNDER RUMBLES]

Little Lisa Simpson.

You really made something of yourself

after I made mincemeat of your brother.

Come to thank me?

- No.
- Rude.

I don't have time for your games, Bob.

I'm working on a...

Yes, a case so confounding

you're actually willing to seek my help.

The Rube Goldberg Sherri is
actually quite impressive.

Hat tip, psychopath.

What about the identical messages?

How can they all be "the first"?

Really, professor Simpson,

am I meant to spoon-feed
you all the answers?

Speak in riddles or drop
a clue in a clever anagram

hidden in something I've
just said right now.

This is a waste of time.

Perhaps a limerick will help.

There once was a shiny machete,

that turned poor Bart's
head to spaghetti.

You're gonna die in that cell, Bob.

And when that happens,

wherever I am,

I'll be dancing.

_

_

_

_

Can you think of anyone who
would've wanted to hurt Sherri?

No, everybody loved my big sister.

Big sister?

You guys were twins.

Yes, but Sherri was born first.

Probably makes sense for you
to be my husband now, huh?

Sherri is the first.

Rod Flanders, Dermott Spuckler,
all firstborns,

that's the pattern.

And Bob said something about an anagram

taking us to the k*ller's lair.

[GASPS] That's it.

_

[TIRES SCREECH]

[BOTH GASP]

[CLANGING]

Stay here.

[CREAKING]

Hey, meat hooks, hook meat much?

Ha-ha...

Nelson?

Nelson, where are you?

[SCREAMS]

[PANTING]

[GASPS]

The k*ller's lair looks
just like my old bedroom.

But how? Ooh.

Maybe the k*ller's on
the security footage.

No! It can't be!

[GRUNTS] Freeze!

- [HANDCUFFS CLICK]
- Wha...?

I can't be the k*ller!

I turned my trauma into healing!

Oprah said so!

[THUNDER RUMBLING]

I'm sorry for the imbroglio,
but if the chef de cuisine

insists on calling it Taco Tuesdays,

he can't very well serve flautas

and expect us not to make a fuss.

[DOOR LOCKS]

Hello, Bob.

H-How did you get in here?

Well, I knew if I k*lled enough people

in the most gruesome possible ways,

they'd send me to your prison.

But to get into your cell?

I had a little help.

Lisa the k*ller.

I never thought you had it in you.

The Lisa you knew didn't.

But I'm another story.

Oh, really?

Split personalities?

Trope alert!

Call the first thought police.

Professor Lisa had no idea

she was my accomplice.

But she's gone now.

She was my last victim.

Or, rather, second to last.

The penultimate.

[GRUMBLES]

♪ He remains an ♪

♪ En-en-en-en-en-en-en-en ♪

♪ En... ♪

- [SCREAMING]
- ♪...Glishman. ♪

[MUNCHING]

Simpson. No eating in the turbine room.

Since when?

_

Pfft. The nanny state wins again.

No tanning in the reactor core,

no texting while
driving and eating ribs.

Can't even trim your
hedges with a machine g*n.

When did everyone get so scared?

The world would be fine if
people just used common sense.

Like me.

Ah! Jailbreak!

_

Woman. Woman.

Homer, one. Nanny state, zero.

[MUNCHING]

[GROANING]

[GURGLING]

Stupid radioactive garbage donut

mutating my DNA while I sleep.

Hey, who stole my Flanders's newspaper?

Sorry about that, Homer-ino,

but I-I whited out the
crossword after I did it,

so you could enjoy it, too.

[GURGLING]

- [BELCHES]
- Ah.

Better from the chimney
than the furnace, am I right?

[LAUGHS]

[GROANS]

So, you see,
there's nothing in the Bible that says

a pastor and his wife can't
take separate vacations.

[GRUNTS SOFTLY]

Daddy, are you being tickled
by the Holy Spirit?

[GURGLING]

[MOANING]

[GASPS] I've been neighborino'd
into Home-diddly-omer.

[GASPS] And why am I in
church when football is on?

[ALL GASPING]

[BELCHES]

[TERRIFIED CHATTER]

[ALL SCREAMING, BELCHING]

[ALL GROANING, GRUMBLING]

Kiss my ass, church-os.

I'm fat, I'm bald,
and I've never felt sexier, baby.

- Why, you little...
- [CHOKING]

Woo-hoo!

[ALL BELCHING]

[BELCHES]

_

[KENT BROCKMAN OVER TV] A mysterious
affliction has descended upon Springfield.

Citizens of every age,
race and catchphrase

are mysteriously transforming into bald,
pear-shaped doofi.

[SING-SONGY] Donut Stu
has diabetes type .

[BELCHES]

News is stupid.

Somebody put on wrestling.

Do all these burping baldos

remind you of anyone?

I'd know that butt scratch anywhere.

Everyone's turning into Dad.

[SCREAMS]

[BELCHING]

Uh, children, your father's
less than stellar genetic code

is spreading through
burp-borne transmission.

If we're going to cure this virus,

we need his DNA.

You three are the only ones
impervious to the virus.

You have got to find him.

Hmm. It is : in the morning.

[INDISTINCT CHATTER]

- Beer, Moe.
- Beer, Moe.

A-beer, a-Moe.

Have you seen our dad?

No, just these hundreds
of silly versions of him,

which is the greatest thing
that has ever happened to me.

I mean, I'm printing money over here.

[BARKING]

Coming right up, Santa's little Homer.

Real Dad wasn't at the bowling alley,
the candy store,

or mocking the hippos at the zoo.

Wait. Dad ate a bucket
of this chicken last night.

When that happens,
where does he always spend the next day?

[HOMER] I'll be out in a minute.

Um, is this really the most

convenient bathroom for your father?

It's the closest one
Mom will let him use.

Dad, we need you to save the world.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Can you believe some idiot

left this perfectly good
back scratcher in there?

Look, it goes all...

the way... down.

[MOANS]

What?

Now, if you'll just board
the frink-ama-copter...

- we're not calling it that.
- [GRUMBLES]

And then we'll pop your DNA
in to the frink-tabulizer...

We're not calling it that.

[MUTTERING]

And everything will go
back to the way it was.

Wait. Hold on. Why would I want that?

Finally, everyone thinks the way I do.

Nobody's making up stupid
rules about bicycle helmets

or where you can smoke cigars.

- You want to drive without a seatbelt?
- [TIRES SCREECH]

FaceTime while jaywalking?

- Enjoy a sugary soda?
- [TIRES SCREECH]

Go ahead! You're not hurting anyone!

It's a utopia.

No, a me-topia!

Yes, well, you don't really
want everyone to be like you.

Earth-shattering reveal!

[SCREAMING]

[CHUCKLING À LA HOMER]

When did insurance
commercials get so funny?

[GASPS] Marge!

Cooperating with us is the only way

to get your wife back to normal.

You've never looked more beautiful.

[KISSING]

Scooch over, gorgeous.

When we get home,

let's you and I bump muzzles.

Please. Please! If we don't
have some competent people left

to run things, society will collapse!

Coders to run the Internet

that feeds you the
latest misinformation.

Pilots to fly the planes you
need to be restrained on.

I mean, a world without experts...

Does Beaker ever shut up?

[CHUCKLES] Good one, me-Marge.

Mm, well, you leave me no choice.

I'm calling in a nuclear air strike

to obliterate all the
Homerized Springfielders,

including, very sadly,

the touring company of Kinky Boots.

Obliterating in three, two...

Hey, you know what you need?

A nice, relaxing scratch on the back.

No! No!
Oh, a lifetime of study and education

down the... [GROANS]

[SPEAKING GIBBERISH]

♪ This must be just like ♪

♪ Living in paradise ♪

♪ And I don't want to go home ♪

[WHOOPS]

♪ This must be just like
living in paradise ♪

- ♪ Just like paradise ♪
- [WHOOPS]

♪ And I don't want to go home ♪

[WHOOPS]

♪ And I don't want to go ♪

♪ This must be ♪

♪ Just like living in paradise ♪

[ALL BELCHING]

♪ And I don't want to go home. ♪

[BELCHES]

[ORGAN MUSIC PLAYS]