24x20 - Fabulous Faker Boy

[bunniefuu]

(exclaiming)

(school bell ringing)

(Barney belches)

(playing the blues)

(playing the blues)

(tires screeching)

D'oh!

(tires screeching)

(grunts)

(Homer moaning)

What the...! (screams)

Hmm? (sniffs)

Ew, cheap PVC smell.

Oh, no.

I'm an action figure!

And I hate action.

Hiddiley-ho, articulated neighborino.

Beautiful day, isn't it?

Why, it's practically mint on card.

Shut up, Flanders!

(screams)

(laughs)

This reality ain't all bad.

(blows)

Pastry power, activate.

(laughs)

(groans)

Whoa!

(whimpers)

Beep, beep, beep.

(belching)

Homer, give me a yank.

I'm lonely.

Typical.

Homer, this isn't the way to the mall.

The mall?

I thought you said Badass City!

(kids screaming)

(horn honks)

Tokyo drift.

(engine revs, tires squeal)

♪ The Simpsons 24x20 ♪
Fabulous Faker Boy
Original Air Date on May 12, 2013

(laughs) I'm fatality.

(whoops)

All right, Dad!

(tires screeching)

(grunting)

(sinister music plays)

Homer: Hey, put the chicken one back on.

Urgent message from Nelson Muntz.

Go on.

Haw. Haw.

(groans)

Well, I am going to write a note back to Mr. Muntz.

Sorry about that.

So, Mrs. Simpson, the reason you're here...

Let me guess.

You need a field trip mom.

A library volunteer?

Someone to Purell the CPR dummy?

Resusci-Kate is just fine, thank you.

We're here to talk about Bart.

(sighs) What did he do now?

Oh, today, I'm not here to talk about what he did.

I'm here to talk about the future.

(sighs) What did he do in the future?

I'm not sure what he's planning, although there is a lot of lnternet chatter.

I want to change his character: less Dennis the Menace, more Casper the Ghost, if he were still alive.

What if Bart took music lessons?

Music classes could channel his destructive impulses into artistic expression.

I myself have been taking flamenco lessons.

(strums)

(plays flamenco music)

Got it, music lessons.

(grunts)

(playing)

Skinner (distantly): Mother!

(muffled): Right. Right.

Inside.

Oh, stupid clog.

(gasps) My head hairs!

I'm bald!

Get... get... get in there.

(whoops)

D'oh!

(grunts)

Aw, damn it!

Man (over TV): Welcome back... (audience applauds) to America's Most Tattooed Baby.

Now, if the Lindblads can fit just one more tattoo on baby Jennifer-- and she's getting pretty full, I can tell you that-- they win the grand prize of $100.

So what'll it be?

Walk away! Walk away!

(shouting indistinctly)

TV's gotten so lousy.

Did you ever wonder if hippopotamuses think that rhinos are unicorns?

TV's not so bad.

Sweetie... did you ever think of doing something a little more creative with your time?

If you're worried about your Mother's Day present, it's in the works.

I was thinking something more artistic.

Something musical.

You could take advantage of a fantastic musician living right here.

(playing the blues)

That's the kind of riff you can aim for after years of practice.

We start off with the fun stuff: music theory.

(giggles)

Don't worry, music theory's just a fancy word for music math.

(chuckles)

Mel: My dear boy, you undoubtedly think of the slide whistle as merely a whistle that slides.

Let me disabuse you of that misperception.

(playing complex classical tune)

Pass.

Do you have any idea how difficult...

Bye, now.

(whistle sliding down)

(playing complex classical tune)

Comic book guy: Behold!

From the pages of Dune and Dune Messiah,

Gurney Halleck's beloved zither: the baliset.

(plays twanging, alien music)

Pass.

(clears throat) When I die, you will carry on the tradition of... the Frink-e-min.

(plays electronic tones that sound like Frink's voice)

Pass.

(dog howling)

Ah, Mr. Homer.

I see you are wearing the bald man's beret.

Is it that obvious?

Oh, yes.

The only thing that screams "I am hiding hairlessness" more is a goatee.

I'm as smooth as jazz.

(scatting)

Oh... my wife has never seen my head naked.

Maybe I should wear a cowboy hat.

A cowboy hat means "I'm ashamed of my small penis."

Don't even ask me what this means!

(g*nshots)

Yee-haw!

I'm a-compensatin'!

(g*nshots)

(beautiful piano music playing)

(buzzer sounds)

(Russian accent): New student.

Sit at piano.

My daughter teach you.

You, mother!

Come to kitchen and see picture of my dead wife.

That's okay. I...

(laughs) No, no, no, no.

She is not dead in picture.

Uh... she is dying.

Let's go, Bart.

(piano playing continues)

(Russian accent): So, you want lesson?

Yes. I want lesson.

I accept your whip.

Bart: A girl who likes candy?

Wow.

(playing beautifully)

So, how much are lessons?

I give you something you want...

(voice deepens): you give me something I want.

I'm sorry, did my voice go all evil?

(chuckles) It is common with Russian accent.

You'd better be asking for something PC: pie or cake.

Here's my offer: my daughter give lessons, you teach me to drive car.

There might be some nagging involved.

Deal!

Now we toast with vodka.

(glass shatters)

(gulps) Ah.

(grunts)

(glass shatters)

Now we drive!

Huh?

Homer, I recommend getting drunk on my most expensive beer: Duff Platinum.

Hey, what the...?

But I used the best label paste.

Those two hairs were what was left of my youth, Moe.

Hey, come on, there's sexy bald, like, um...

Babar, king of the elephants.

I read his books as a kid.

He married his cousin, Celeste.

That was my takeaway.

Those royal elephants have trainers to keep them in shape.

Average schmoe like me, forget it.

Well, let me see how bald you are.

Whoa... whoa!

Dear Lord.

Here. Oh.

You need this more than I do.

(grunts)

(whimpers)

Just... just what exactly is this good for?

(groaning)

It's nice when something you plan in your head for so long comes to fruition.

Where you going, Bart?

Piano lesson.

Ooh, piano lesson.

We put two of those guys up there just for using a big word.

"Caché" is not a big word.

Clickety clack!

(yelling, groaning)

Wait, wait.

I'm not learning anything.

I'm just going 'cause the teacher's pretty.

Okay.

But you'd better steal bananas for all of us.

I will!

Let me go.

I have a swim lesson with a gorgeous lifeguard.

What gender?

You're not allowed to ask.

Okay.

Check your mirrors.

Hands at 10:00 and 2:00.

Slowly back out of the driveway.

(tires squeal, metal crunches)

Aah!

Mmm...

Daddy said I was a accident.

Okay, let's try again.

(engine revs, tires squeal)

(playing scales)

That is so beautiful.

Did you write it?

These are scales.

Now, memorize: Every good Boris deserves farm.

Let me try.

Every good booger deserves flicking.

Your tongue is nimble, unlike sausage fingers.

Sausage fingers!

Do what I do.

(moans softly)

(playing scales)

♪ Druguyu nevestu ♪
♪ Drugoi iyunya ♪
♪ Drugoi solnechni ♪
♪ Medovyi mesyats... ♪

(knocking)

♪ Yeshche odim sezon ♪
♪ Yeshche odna prichina ♪
♪ Dlya vupi makin'... ♪

Ah...

♪ Dlya makin'...

♪ Whoopee...

Scales!

Lesson over.

(tires screech, glass crunches)

Lesson over.

(Marge groans)

(tires squeal)

(gears grind)

Aah!

What are you doing?

I want to go backwards.

Like Russian economy, under Putin.

(tires screech)

Stop making Putin jokes.

You sound like police... under Putin.

(siren whoops)

Ugh. Speaking of police...

I'm sorry, Officer.

I believe my license is, uh... somewhere in these pairs of easy-fit blue jeans.

Eh? Eh?

That's not the way American police do things.

Finally.

Someone who knows what a traffic stop is really all about.

Uh, Chief, don't you think those jeans are a little tight?

We're all not high-waisted like you, Lou, okay?

I'm just gonna lie down in the backseat here.

(grunts, chuckles)

Okay.

All right, the blue knight is ready for action!

(grunting)

(sighs) What's wrong?

Every note you play sounds like dying animal writhing on keys.

Awesome!

I just want to get more students and help my father with his dream.

Buying a limo.

He could tell big sh*ts in the back that, no, they cannot smoke.

Seriously, I'm gonna make you proud.

I have hidden talents.

Oh, Bort, if only you make such a miracle happen...

I would love your hands forever.

(slowly playing notes)

(intense classical music plays)

(horn honking)

Wait a minute.

You can't hear.

(playing continues)

I am so proud.

I would've been happy if Bart was just a piano mover.

(audience applauds)

Thank you.

I owe it all to Zhenya.

Can you teach my boys?

But no tickling the ivories.

You treat them with respect.

Can you teach my monkey? (grunting)

Then I can deal with the Musician's Union instead of the Humane Society.

Much easier to muscle.

Zhenya, I couldn't have done it without you.

(whispers): And you.

Marge: Bart!

Bart, I've never been so proud of you.

Never, never, never!

And now I'll always be at home in a saloon.

Something smells fishy.

Yar, that would be me.

But I agree.

There's something funny here.

Is it me?

No!

Oh...

Hey, your baseball cap's one plastic bump tighter than usual.

What gives?

Okay, guys, here's the deal.

I've gone bald.

(gasps)

(gasps)

Then again, who cares?

Yeah, you already landed a hot wife.

That's the only reason men evolved hair.

What are you talking about?

You lured Marge in with your hair.

You trapped her with marriage.

You skinned and field-gutted her by having kids.

Now she's mounted on your wall for good, with fake glass eyes and a rubber tongue.

The way you put it, it sounds so perfect, but it's not.

You sound seriously depressed.

Why don't we talk about it over at Moe's?

It's not even noon.

Yeah, I've got a watch, egghead.

I couldn't help overhearing your predicament.

Mainly because my hearing is so great.

Who are you?

The answer to your prayers.

Are you my guardian angel?

If so, can you turn a pumpkin into a chariot?

Even a used Camry would be okay.

No, just a regular hairless Joe like you.

Been bald since I was 23.

With the money I've saved, I bought a yacht.

Whoa...

You're cool with it?

I haven't even told my wife.

You wait for the right moment, you show her that glorious dome, and then you rest it sweetly on her bosom and let the kisses flow like rain.

Wow, is that what your wife did?

No wife.

I just slept with thousands of bald women.

(laughing)

(Marge humming)

Caught your recital, Bart.

Lisa, isn't it great to have a musical genius in the family?

Helen Lovejoy, you always have to stir the pot.

Unlike you, when you make your lumpy clam chowder.

I guess Bart must be a musical genius, because frauds are always found out.

Always.

My work is done.

Now to reward myself with a case of wine.

(doorbell buzzes)

Hi, Zhenya.

I'm here for my lesson.

Good to see you, my love.

Sit on porch.

Are there other people in here?

Because of your performance, I win many new students.

♪ me on. I got to learn my mom's stripper music by midnight.

But if I got you all these students, shouldn't you be grateful?

Oh, of course I'm grateful.

Here is cushion for porch chair.

Go to "bata boom."

(humming)

(grumbles)

Mopped myself into a corner.

Oh...

Mom, you'd still be proud of me if I couldn't play the piano, right?

Of course.

But very, very, very angry at all the time I wasted.

(gulps)

Gulp? Was that a gulp?

Are you getting a sore throat?

Let me give you some castor oil.

Hmm...

(gulping)

You'll need your voice to say, "Thanks, Mom," after your next recital.

My wha...?

I signed you up for the 10-And-Below Talent Show next week. Huh?

You know, I'm almost 11.

It's not really fair.

Bart, when you were on that stage, it felt like you were pouring those notes right into my heart.

Hey, one of those notes could go to your brain and k*ll you.

Are you sure you want to take that chance?

A proud mother always does.

(whimpers)

First of all, you're over ten years old.

Second, you're clearly Justin Bieber.

That's another 25 bucks we'll never see.

Gosh!

♪ Who can make the sun rise?

Why won't anybody tell me?

(crying)

(audience applauds)

(heart b*ating loudly)

Oh...

I'm sorry.

I was faking it.

(gasps, murmurs)

I lied so I could see Zhenya.

Zhenya. Oh, Zhenya.

Everyone knows Zhenya.

(murmuring)

But there's really only one girl whose opinion matters to me.

My mom.

I'd like to go home now.

And to think you'd do this on Mother's Day.

Is it too late to make you (door shuts) breakfast in bed?

(growling in frustration)

Uh, Mom?

I'm sorry I pretended to be good at piano.

And I'm really ashamed that I lied.

(doorbell rings)

Excuse me.

Mrs. Marge, I took my driver's test.

Did you pass?

More or less.

If I eat an orange wedge, the whole thing's gonna blow.

Well, I'm glad your side of the deal worked out.

What are you talking about?

Your boy is genius!

No, he cheated.

Marge, in Russia, everyone succeeds by cheating.

Even Russian dressing is just Thousand lsland.

(gasps)

But your son is a good boy.

He cheated for love, and he cheated for you.

Thank you!

All right.

A chance to make a new friend.

Listen, sweetie... it was wrong of me to force my dreams on you.

Yeah, your generation won't have any dreams come true.

Sweetie, you're just gonna be who you are.

Well, who am I?

You are unique, you are special, and at some point, that's gonna come together and work for you.

I know it.

Thanks, Mom.

And that means no punishment, right?

Wrong.

You have to walk all the way over to Grampa to take a plate of cookies I baked.

Here's your new plate, Grampa.

Oh, boy!

There's crumbs on it!

Marge...

(sighs)

I have something to show you.

Is it your impression of Mr. Burns eating soup?

Because I'm not in the mood.

No, it's something else.

So?

I've always wondered what you were hiding under your curly locks, my beautiful yellow melon.

Hair, no hair...

I don't really think about it. (laughs)

Confidence is so attractive in a man.

Tell me about it.

Oh, Marge, when you hold me like that...

Thank you, God.

Shh!