08x11 - The Twisted World of Marge Simpson

Episode transcripts for the 1989 TV show "The Simpsons". Aired: December 1989 to present.*

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"The Simpsons" - set in the fictional town of Springfield - parodies American culture, society, television, and many aspects of the human condition, and is a satirical depiction of a middle class American lifestyle.
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08x11 - The Twisted World of Marge Simpson

Post by bunniefuu »

♪ [Chorus Singing]

[Bell Ringing]


[Tires Screeching]

D'oh! [Screams]

♪ [Carnival]

[Squeaking]

[Grunts]

[Women Chattering]

They say the pancakes here stink.

Thank you, Agnes. Let's begin.

I'm happy to report that our shares in Dynaflux Unimatics... are up a delicious seven and three-quarters.

This means our investment club portfolio has nearly... doubled in value.

[Chattering]

Oh, that's wonderful.

I suggest we pump our profits into some new high-risk ventures.

Oh, oh! How about Oklasoft?

It's Oklahoma's fastest-growing software company.

Um, cushions? Everybody likes to sit on cushions.

Children are so fat today. Isn't there some way we can make money off that?

There's a franchise fair this weekend.

Why don't we buy a business?

[Chattering]

I never thought of that.

I'm not wild about these high-risk ventures. They sound a little risky.

Tsk. Oh, Marge. You are such a wet blanket.

If we'd listened to you, we wouldn't have sponsored that Mexican wrestler.

Yet she still gets to share in all the profits!

Is that fair?

I guess I'm just not comfortable... with the whole idea of"investing."

Mmm. Face it. You can't keep up with the go-go '90s.

Well, Marge. You're about as popular as rug burn. [Chuckles]

All in favor of expelling Marge from the lnvestorettes-

[Together] Aye.

All right, Helen. If I'm not wanted, I'll leave.

You'll get your pancakes in the mail.

[Sighs] And then they gave me back my $500 investment... and kicked me out of the club.

Wait, wait, wait. Back up a bit now.

When are the pancakes coming in the mail?

Well, maybe it's all for the best.

What do you need to make money for anyway?

As long as I have my earning power, this family's got nothing to worry about. Ow!

Oh! Call work and tell 'em I won't be in tomorrow.

Mom, this is no time to be conservative. Let's roll the dice here.

It would be nice to b*at those women at their own game.

Maybe I should look into a franchise.

Greetings, humans. I am lnvesto the Robot of the planet Opportuniac.

My superior brain advises you to enter the franchise fair.

We're trying to, but you're blocking our way.

Danger! Danger! Don't forget to pick up pamphlets.

I'll handle this.

[Sizzling]

[Clunking, Beeping]

♪ [Whistling]

[Distorted Voice] Help, help, help. Security code 30.

Well, that's the miracle of the franchise.

You get all the equipment and know-how you need... plus a familiar brand name people trust.

You'll be on a rocket ride to the moon!

And while you're there, would you pick up some of that nice green moon money for me-

Royce McCutcheon.

No deal, McCutcheon. That moon money is mine!

Now, folks, I don't want to alarm you... but scientists say 40% of America's pictures are hanging crooked.

No!

[Murmuring]

Yeah. It's true. And I hear you asking...

"Who's gonna straighten out all these artistic abominations?"

Your friends? A neighbor?

Those fat cats in Washington? [Laughs] Good luck.

Hey, you know, maybe no one'll notice.

Maybe the problem will just fix itself.

Now you're the one who's being naive.

Okay, fair enough. But you sound like you're ready to become your own boss... in the exciting world of frame nudging.

Yes. For a minimal franchise fee... you'll receive a pair of straightening gloves... a canister of wall lubricant... and a booklet of the most commonly asked questions you will hear... including, "Who are you?" and "What are you doing here?"

[Sighs] I don't want to own my own business.

I don't know why I came here in the first place.

Hello, Helen.

Marge.

Edna.

Marge.

Uh- Oh-

Oh, my name is Agnes, and you know it's Agnes!

It means lamb. Lamb of God.

I'm sorry, Agnes.

Marge.

♪ [Disco]

Did you know that disco record sales... were up 400% for the year ending 1976?

If these trends continue- 'Ey!

Uh, your fish are dead.

Yeah, I know. I can't get them out of there.

Hmm. Pita. [Chuckles]

Well, I don't know about food from the Middle East.

Isn't that whole area a little iffy?

[Laughs] Hey, I'm no geographer.

You and I, why don't we call it pocket bread? Huh?

Uh, what's tahini?

Flavor sauce.

And falafel?

Crunch patties.

So we'd be selling foreign food.

Specialty foods.

Here. Try a Ben Franklin.

[Crunch]

Mmm. That is good. What's in it?

Tabouleh and rezmi-kabob.

Uh, that's our chef, Christopher.

[Speaking Foreign Language]

[Continues in Foreign Language]

I could see eating this. I really could, and I am not kidding.

This is very crunchy.

Those are good.

Look at them! They've jumped on the one franchise...

I might possibly have considered thinking about becoming interested in.

[Sighs] I'm not cut out for the world of business.

Ooh. You sound like me.

Well, the old me. Which was, ironically, the young me.

I was once like you were, young lady, like all these people...

Iost in a sea of flashy gimmicks and empty promises.

Then God tossed me a life preserver- a tasty, golden-brown life preserver.

Here. Try a pretzel.

[Chomping]

Mmm! That's not bad.

It's not only not bad, it's not bread.

"Knot" bread. You get it? Huh?

You see?

I do! [Laughs]

"Knot" bread!

♪ [Fanfare]

Let's hear it for the newest members... of the Fleet-A-Pita franchise.

♪ [Synth-pop]

Maude!

Helen! Agnes! Luann!

Edna! Bart!

Whoo! We're number one. We're number one.

What's going on here? Wh-What? Hey.

Your franchise- how much?

$500.

I'll take it!

Congratulations! And welcome to the dynamic world... of mobile pretzel retailing.

When can I start? What's my territory?

Your territory. Well-Well, let me tell you-

Wherever a young mother is ignorant of what to feed her baby... you'll be there.

Wherever nacho penetration is less than total, you'll be there.

Wherever a Bavarian is not quite full, you will be there.

Don't forget fat people. They can't stop eating.

Hey, pretzels.

Oh. Hello. I'm Frank Ormand.

And if you're watching me, that means you've got pretzel fever.

And not the kind that att*cked my intestinal lining some years back.

[Chuckles]

So let's get your franchise up and running.

[Frank] Start by setting up an office... in your basement or garage.

Whoa!

An a*t*matic garage door opener makes you feel like... you're working in a futuristic wonder world.

Next, blanket your community with flyers.

Aphony ticker-tape parade will help you avoid littering laws.


[Cheering]

♪ [Marching Band]

Welcome back, Space Girl.

[Sniffles]

Now you're ready to make pretzels.

Open your bag of ingredients-

[Groans]

Check for millipedes. [Groans]

Hmm.

Hmm, hmm, hmm.

[Cheering]

[Horn Honks]

Hey, what's all that commotion outside?

Why, it's one of those pretzel wagons the movie stars are always talking about.

[Gasps] Here? At our plant?

That's right, Lenny. Let's all give in to deliciousness... the Pretzel Wagon way!

[Cheering]

Yea!

Homer: Oh, yeah. Homer's right.

Wow, Mom. Look at all those customers.

Hairnets, everyone.

Welcome to Pretzel Wagon. May I take your order?

Uh, let's see.

I'll have one, uh- [Mutters]

Hey, hurry up. I wanna get my pretzel.

One pretzel.

Thank you.

Let's see, uh...

I will have one of your, uh-

Come on, come on. While we're young.

[Horn Honks]

♪ [Pop]

Wow! Check out that van. It looks like it doesn't even need our business!

Hey, let's go.

Man: Let's take a look at it.

[Groaning]

Excuse me. I had this spot first.

Sorry, dear. Just business. Ha!

Well, I guess Macy's and Gimbel's learned to live side by side.

Gimbel's is gone, Marge. Long gone. You're Gimbel's.

Very well. There must be dozens of great locations in this town.

Don't you worry about me.

Hey, slow down. I wants to talk to you.

[Brakes Squeal]

Give us 300 pretzels.

You see? A little persistence and patience paid off.

That'll be $300.

Hey, I don't think so. I got me 300 coupons.

[Groans] I should have said, "Limit: One per customer."

Shoulda but didna, so hand 'em over.

Hey, kids! We're eatin' dinner tonight!

Come on. Tiffany, Heather, Cody, Dillon...

Dermott, Jordan, Taylor, Brittany...

Wesley, Rumor, Scout, Cassidy...

Zoe, Chloe, Max, Hunter...

Kendall, Caitlan, Noah, Sasha...

Morgan, Kira, lan, Lauren...

Q- Bert, Phil. [Chuckles]


[Groans]

Hang in there, baby.

You said it, kitty.

"Copyright 1968"?

Hmm. Determined or not, that cat must be long dead.

That's kind of a downer.

They're good pretzels, Mom.

But you gotta think big. Find a major public event, and set up shop there.

♪ [Organ]

Here you go. Free Pretzel Wagon pretzels for everyone.

One bite, and you'll be hooked.

Thank you.

Gracias.

That means thank you, Marge.

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen... a winner has been chosen for today's giveaway.

And the 1997 Pontiac Astro Wagon goes to the fan...

sitting in seat number 0001 C...

Montgomery Burns.


[Crowd Boos]

Yea! Yea!

And the fans do not like this one bit.

[Booing]

And here come the pretzels.


[Pretzels Thudding]

Oh, no! Oh, don't do that! You're supposed to be tasting them!

[Announcer 2] Hall of Famer Whitey Ford now on the field... pleading with the crowd for- for some kind of sanity.

[Announcer 1] Uh-oh. And a barrage of pretzels...[/i] now knocking Whitey unconscious.

Wow. This is a-This is a black day for baseball.

Oh, cheer up, Mom.

You can't buy publicity like that.

Thousands and thousands of people saw your pretzels injuring Whitey Ford.

You could call them "Whitey Whackers."

I was wrong to have a dream, wrong as usual.

I mean, if you're nothing special, why kid yourself?

Oh, Mom, no.

Listen to your mother, kids. Aim low.

Aim so low, no one will even care if you succeed.

Dinner's in the oven. You want some butter, it's under my face.

Marge needs help. And God knows I'm not the man to provide it.

But I know who can.

Ah. Looks like Mr. Pretzel Man... is doing pretty well for himself.

[Doorbell Rings]

I'm here to see Mr. Ormand.

Of course. Right this way.

♪ [Organ]

Oh. I guess I should speak to the executor of his estate.

[Whispers] He's right over there. They were in the same car.

You're my last hope.

I've never reached out to you before... but my wife is in her hour of need.

Your help could make all the difference in the world.

[Fat Tony] Okay.

See, boss? I told ya that ad in the church bulletin would pay off.

[Telephone Rings]

[Ringing]

[Yawns] Hello?

No. Pretzel Wagon's no longer-

300 pretzels?

Wait. Wait, let me get this down.

Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Meat Packers' Union Hall.

Batavia, New York. I'll send them right out!

Homer! Homie, wake up!

Wake up. I'm back in business!

I had a feeling things would work out for you, honey.

Hey, what are you doing?

This is a pretzel town, pretty boy.

♪ ['60s-style Action]

[No Audible Dialogue]

♪ [Continues]

Are you sure the children will get enough nutrition from these pretzels?

[Stiffly] Yes, I am sure.

Sure as sure can be.

Oh, my God. What happened to your fingers?

[Man, Quietly] Boating accident.

I believe it was a"boaking" accident.

I have to go now.

I don't understand why they won't unload our falafel fixin's.

Ship's impounded, ma'am.

Yeah. We found a couple of barnacles on the hull.

That and, uh, the deck was wet.

Tsk. That's crazy!

And what are those men doing under my van?

[Men Shouting]

Look, lady, if I was you...

I would just leap into the air... as I'm preparing to do.

Here ya go, Homer.

Thanks, Moe.

Ah, Homer, you know your money's no good here.

Hey, wait a minute. This is real money.

Yeah. My wife is rakin' it in.

[Register Dings]

♪ [Whistling]

[Water Running]

[Clears Throat] Greetings, Homer.

Hey, Fat Tony. You still with the Mafia?

Uh- U-uh, yes, I am.

Thank you for asking.

Now, Homer, as you no doubt recall... you were done a favor by our, uh, how shall I say-

Mafia crime syndicate.

Oh, yeah.

Now the time has come for you to do us a favor.

You mean the mob only did me a favor to get something in return?

Oh, Fat Tony!

I will say good day to you, sir.

Okay. I will go.

Hey, wait a minute.

Well, here I am. "11905 Dead Weasel Road."

I don't see any apartment building.

I just- [Screams]

Hey! Wh-What's going on?

[Clicking]

Is, uh, there a button or a release for these keys?

Oh. You have to push in as you turn.

Ah.

Yeah, that's it.

Who are you?

We are your business partners... and as such, we are entitled to a percentage of your profits... something in the area of 100%.

What are you talking about?

We suggest you have a conversation with your husband.

You have 24 hours to give us our money.

And to show you we're serious, you have 12 hours.

[Gasps]

See you at 6:00 a.m.

Homer, did you tell the Mafia they could eliminate my competitors... with savage beatings and attempted m*rder?

[Swallows] In those words? Yes.

Oh, it just sickens me!

How could you do this to someone you love?

How could I not?

I saw you pouring your heart and soul into this business and getting nowhere.

I saw you desperately trying to cram one more salty treat... into America's already-bloated snack hole.

So I did what I could.

I did what any loving husband would do-

I reached out to some violent mobsters.

Oh, Homer. I know you were trying to shield me from failure.

But this is my business. And the Mafia's not getting one cent of my money!

So what are we going to do?

We're going to do what we do every day.

We're going to make pretzels.

[Ticking]

There. That's the last one.

[Ticking]

[Whimpers]

[Loud Knock]

[Both Scream]

I had that dream again!

Oh, thank God. It's only Grampa.

[Knocking]

Now what?

[Gasps]

[Gasps]

Sorry we're late. Could we have the money now?

The answer is no.

I'm afraid I must insist.

You see, my wife... she has been most vocal on the subject of the pretzel monies: "Where's the money? When are you going to get the money?

Why aren't you getting the money now?"

And so on. So, please, da money.

You heard her. She said no.

Legs, Louie. Advance on them.

Woman: There they are!

Well, well. If it isn't Marge Simpson and her gangland cronies.

Your goon squad certainly gave you the edge in the mobile snack business.

But I'm afraid we've outdone you once again.

Hiroshi, Yukio.

Perhaps you've heard of the Yakuza... the poison fists of the Pacific Rim?

The Japanese Mafia?

They'll k*ll ya five times before ya hit the ground.

[Men Murmuring]

[Men Shouting]

[Punches Landing]

[Screaming]

Hey.

[Punches Landing]

Take that. Take this.

Come here, you little squirt.

[Fighting Sounds Continue]

Homie, maybe we should go inside.

But, Marge, that little guy hasn't done anything yet.

Look at him. He's gonna do something... and you know it's gonna be good.

[Karate Yell]

[Thudding][/i]

Aw.

You must hate me, Marge. Every time I try to help, I just fail miserably.

Oh, I don't hate you for failing.

I love you for trying.

[Yawns] What's going on outside?

Oh, it's just a mob w*r. Go back to sleep, honey.

[Punch Landing]

Forgiveness, please.

[Murmuring]

Shh!
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