34x03 - Lisa the Boy Scout

[bunniefuu]

(TIRES SCREECH)

D'oh!

- (TIRES SCREECHING)
- (GRUNTING)

♪

I am so excited for the
scout jamboree this weekend.

Dad, hand over the family bugle!

Here she is!

Old Blowy.

(BLOWS BAD NOTE)

- (FANFARE PLAYING)
- Hmm?

What? You're not a boy!

You can't join the Boy Explorers!

And that's a flugelhorn!

Yes. It's the hardest horn.

And, FYI, I did join.

And I already have three badges...

environmentalism,

badge-receiving,

and sibling rivalry.

Come on, you two...

MALE HACKER (DISTORTED):
Attention, corporate overlords,

we are Pseudo-nonymous,

and we have taken over this broadcast.

We are the anarchist collective
of nameless hacktivists

who published the internal
emails of Waffle House

and brought Home Depot's
"Find a store near you" feature

to its knees.

FEMALE HACKER: Now we have hacked
into the Disney Corporation's servers

and seized hundreds of hours
of never-before-aired footage

from the television show The Simpsons.

Stories so ill-conceived,

so idiotic

that their exposure would destroy

the value of the very I.P. itself.

Until we are paid a ransom
of $ million in Bitcoin,

we will air these show-destroying scenes

one after another,

starting now.

No, no, it can't be true!

It is true, Carl.

There never was a Lenny.

So Lenny was just a
figment of my imagination?

I... I made him up?

Yeah, your psyche created "Lenny"

to help you deal with a
terrible trauma there.

- What trauma?
- Finding out your previous best friend wasn't real.

It's kind of a thing with you.

Huh. Hey,
I haven't seen you in here before.

I'm Carl. What's your name?

Nice to meet you, Steven.

Aw, crap, here we go again.

Now you see we mean business, Disney.

You will submit $ million in
Bitcoin to our crypto wallet

at the following address.

Until the payment arrives,

we will keep playing
these nonsensical clips

no one was ever meant to see.

What's his name?

Number Eight.

I mean, Santa's Little Helper.

(THUNDER CRASHES)

Greetings, lamewads from the past!

I have come back in time to
reveal the events of the future,

so that you can amaze the world

with your uncannily
accurate predictions!

Less yelling, more foretelling.

My first shocking prediction is,

in ,

the Nobel Prize in
Economics will go to...

Bengt R. Holmström!

Why would anyone care
if we predicted that?

I don't know, but they will.

Do you have anything a little more...

oh, impressive?

Donald Tr*mp is gonna be president.

(SCREAMS) Less impressive!
Less impressive!

Okay, let's see. You're gonna
want to mention gas hoarding,

pandemics,

Germany beats Brazil
in the World Cup,

Disney buys Fox.

And then they both go under?!

No, they're both
absorbed by Panda Express.

Pretty much everything
now is Panda Express.

- That makes sense.
- I get it.

Ooh! Orange chicken.

Arr.

Yarr.

Aye.

- Yarr!
- Aye!

(GULPING)

Yarr?

(CHUCKLES): Aye.

Yarr!

Aye!

Aye?

Yarr.

Aye?

Yarr!

- Aye?
- Yarr!

- Aye! Aye!
- Yarr! Yarr!

- Aye!
- Yarr!

Aye!

(SIGHS): Aye!

(SIGHS): Yarr.

Yarr.

- Yarr, yarr, yarr, yarr...!
- Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye!

Till the morrow, chums!

(GROANS)

- (CHILDREN LAUGHING)
- (HUMMING HAPPILY)

(GROANS)

WOMAN (NEW YORK ACCENT):
Is that you, babe?

(NEW YORK ACCENT): Yeah, yeah, I'm home.

- Daddy! Daddy! How was school?
- Hey.

It ain't school for Daddy, sweetheart.

It's work.

Soul-sucking, grueling work.

Then why don't you quit?

Always with the quitting, this one.

I can't do that, Doreen!

The police department needs
someone inside the school!

So why's it got to be you?

Look at me, Didi.

I'm the only -year-old

who can pass for ten!

How 'bout passing for a good father?

The kids hardly know you.

You're out every
afternoon till : p.m.

: if there's chess club.

You think I want to be there?

Martin likes chess!

Not me!

I don't know where Martin
ends and my Reggie begins!

(CRYING)

Aw, maybe you're right.

Maybe I am in too deep.

It's just, when I was diagnosed
with... this,

I said, "I'm not gonna let it b*at me.

I'm gonna use it for good!"

I'm doing good, aren't I?

You are, Reg.

You're a great role model for your kids.

All three of 'em.

(GASPS) You mean...?

I do.

(DISTORTED):
They still haven't paid the ransom.

Did they not see the
nonsense we just released?

How is Martin Prince an adult cop?

(DISTORTED): Well, maybe I overestimated

how much Disney cares about Lenny.

No, it's not your fault.

You're the finest
digital t*rror1st I know.

Your malware shut down the
Portland Airport for two weeks.

(CHUCKLES) Everyone missed Thanksgiving.

It's sweet you remembered.

Aw, you're sweet, too. (CHUCKLES)

We should probably get back to...

(NON-DISTORTED):
blackmailing the major corporation.

Wait! Why did the
voice-changing app switch off?

(NON-DISTORTED BRITISH VOICE): Bollocks.
I didn't upgrade to the premium edition,

and the free trial period ran out,
I'm afraid.

I am so daft.

Oh, my God, you're British?

That must be delightful for
your wife or girlfriend.

Oh, no, I'm painfully single.

Nary a romantic appointment
in my "shed-you-ul."

Say that last part again.

You mean... "shed-you-ul"?

(SULTRILY): Shed-you-ul.

MALE HACKER: Shed-you-ul.

- (MOANING)
- (MASKS CLACKING)

Oh! We're back on! We're live!

Well, I-I suppose we should
thr*aten them some more.

How about I just run another
batch of show-ruining clips

so we can...

Topple the capitalist system

and its bought-and-paid-for...

Political enablers.

(SPEAKING FRENCH)_

(CHUCKLES)

OPERATOR: Do you speak English?

We're trapped! Someone get help!

I can't help if I can't understand you.

Won't anyone do something?!

(GROANS) Never mind.

Let me get this straight.

You mowed down all that corn
to build a football field,

hoping it would lure the
ghosts of former players

down from football heaven?

Uh-huh. And look!

Hey, I don't recognize
any of these guys.

Why are there two -yard lines?

Aw, damn it!

I built a Canadian field!

Oh. Sorry, hoser.

- My bad, eh?
- Hey, nice rouge there, Gordo.

Hey, Homer! Throw you a Hail Mary?

Shut up, Flutie.

Uh, yes. (CLEARS THROAT)
The day is Sol, uh, .

I am stranded on Mars.

I suspect my fellow astronauts
left me behind on purpose,

as from the bathroom

I did hear the giggling and the shushing

and the "Blast off quick
before he's done tinkling."

I have a mere three days
of air and water remaining.

There is no hope.

Unless I glayvenate the hydrogen,

flavenize the oxygen,

and, yes, yes, poopulate the soil!

It was a simple matter
of applying pseudoscience

and phantasmagorical
engineering to the problem. Yes.

Oh, yes,
I also cloned myself for company.

And my fellow Frinks have built us all

an escape rocket. Isn't that wonderful?

(CLONES LAUGHING, CHATTERING)

Leaving!

(GASPS)

Aw, flayvin me in the glayvin!

Hello. This is Homer Simpson.

From the bottom of my heart, I apologize

to the great, great,
great people of Finland

for what I said.

I have done many, many,

many, many, many episodes,

and in one of those... just one...

I mixed you up with Norway.

And I have so, so, so, so,
so much love and respect for...

I think "Finns" is what you're called.

And if I ever... I mean ever...

ever, ever, ever thought

that an innocent slip of the tongue

is something that an entire nation

could get worked up about,

I would've kept my mouth shut.

And the scary, scary,
scary, oh-so-scary lawyers

of the giant, giant... I mean giant...

so, so giant,
scary corporation I work for

would not have had to
draft this statement.

God bless you

and all the peoples of South America,

for you are a... What?

What do you mean I have
to record it again?

What did I say?

You're chewing too loud.

From now on, only two chews per bite.

One, two, swallow. One, two, swallow.

I think I've misplaced
my appetite, mother.

I need to see you right now.

I deserve this.

I deserve to feel like a man.

Only with you do I truly feel alive.

I made this just for you.

Thank you, Mother.

Anything for my son.
I am so proud of you.

Oh, Mommy. I can't wait another second.

You know I need it.

(SULTRY MUSIC PLAYING)

I almost forgot to give you this.

Leave it on the dresser.

If only that were my real mother.

(GROANS) If only that were my real son.

(HOMER HUMMING HAPPILY)

I don't mean to be unneighborly,
but, uh,

you wouldn't know what happened
to my old nostril skirt?

Mustache you say? Hmm, let me think.

Stroking this goatee I've always had.

Stroking, stroking...

That's it. Boys, we're Jewish now.

- ROD: L'chaim!
- TODD: To life!

Mmm. (SWALLOWS)

From bun to pickle, a masterpiece.

The exquisite flavor is matched
only by the peerless mouthfeel.

Five stars.

Bravo, Harvey Comics, bravo.

A stunning addition to the Casper-verse.

No notes. Ten stars.

With this level of sour
cream in your blood,

your brain is completely
starved of oxygen.

Consequently, you're a moron.

A perfect explanation.
Succinct and devastating.

Infinite stars!

Best. Diagnosis. Ev... (GROANING)

Give me a beer, pally.

Hey, I know you, don't I?

Nah, must be thinking
of someone else, slim.

No, I've definitely
seen you around town.

Sign here, chief.

Here's your passport, gorgeous.

Brake pads are sh*t, tough guy.

Want that toasted, honcho?

Found your car keys, big sh*t.

Those were all you!

I don't know what to tell you, slick.

Just got that sort of face.

ALL: Pally-pally-pally-pally-pally-

pally-pally-pally-pally-pally-
pally-pally-pally-pally-pally...

(MOANING, SMOOCHING)

(EXCLAIMS)

- Oh, my God, you're beautiful.
- You're more beautiful!

Oh. Oh, dear.

The world has seen our
exquisite symmetrical faces.

Then they've also seen
that we're... in love?

My God. Yes.

Yes, that's what it is, isn't it?

It is. (STAMMERS) It is stunning.

As stunning as this list
of abandoned episodes

that started as clever
titles and went nowhere.

♪ Hopin' for the dream ♪

♪ Hopin' ♪

♪ Focus like a laser beam ♪

♪ I'll keep fighting till
I want something great ♪

♪ Hopin' for a dream ♪

♪ Hopin' for a dream ♪

- ♪ Hopin' ♪
- ♪ To someday, somehow have a goal ♪

♪ I'll keep fight... ♪

Are we crazy?

Can two people, forbidden from sharing

any personal information,
really make a life together?

I do think we owe it
to each other to try,

um... whoever you are.

I can't wait

until we're Mr. and Mrs. Redacted.

- (BANGING ON DOOR)
- AGENT: FBI.

Surrender, hacker scum!

If we're going down,
we'll take The Simpsons with us.

- I'm gonna play the dog scene.
- (EXCLAIMS)

(UPBEAT VOICE): Good morning, Homer.

It's morning?!

- (BANGING ON DOOR)
- AGENT: FBI.

We've got you
cyberterrorists surrounded.

This is it, darling.

I've cued up the very
worst-of-the-worst clips

to play one by one.

When we push this button,
The Simpsons dies.

- Together, then?
- Together.

The lies... stop... now.

- Aah!
- (GASPS)

I know Eddie is Ralph's father.

Look at the hair. Look at the hair!

No, Clancy,
I swear to you it's not true.

My son's breath smells like cat food.

Okay, you got me.

(QUIETLY): I'll have the veal.

The lies... stop... now!

(GRUNTS)

I did a DNA test.

I'm not your son.

Luann, how could you?!

I'm not hers either.

We're not your parents?

- All right.
- Oh, thank God!

- Yes!
- Oh...

(WEAKLY): The lies... stop... now.

- (GRUNTS)
- Ow!

- (GROANS)
- Marge,

I'm not your sister.

I'm... your mother.

But... but... wait, what?

I was young and briefly hot.
It was a different time.

Back then,
we solved things with huge lies.

Then, who was my real father?

His name was Disco... (GRUNTS)

Disco... (GROANS)

Disco who? Disco Who?

The lies... stop... now!

(GRUNTS)

Rake-y, I'm not your real father.

And I'm not Scottish, I'm Welsh!

Oh, don't turn your back on me.

♪

MAN: T-minus one minute to launch.

Ooh. (CHUCKLING)

All for you, baby.

- (GROWLING)
- Aah!

Aah! Aah!

♪ We are the jockeys,
jockeys are we ♪

♪ We live underground
in a fiberglass tree. ♪

- (SCREAMS)
- Opa!

(SIMPSONS THEME PLAYING)

(GRUNTING)

(SCREAMS)

It's still me on the inside.

Sin-ner! Sin-ner!

Oh, Homie. You're awake.

- What happened?
- You've been in a coma

ever since you tried to
jump Springfield Gorge.

How long?

Two days ago.

Two days?
But... I had so many adventures.

More than .

Those were all coma dreams.
None of them ever happened.

(GASPS) The "B" stories, too?

(SOBBING)

I never had a pet lobster?

I never went to space?

What about the Halloweens?!

Drop your code and move
away from the Internet!

You're both under arrest.

On what charge, grand theft heart?

Conspiracy to commit to love?

Willfully endangering
each other's loneliness?

Take one more step and
I'll blow this I.P.

to Magic Kingdom come.

Go ahead. You've already
released all the Simpsons files.

No one cared.

The only people still watching that show

are football fans who
passed out with the TV on.

I am not talking about The Simpsons.

We've hacked into all of Disney.

That means Star Wars, Marvel, Pixar.

We've even got...

Nat Geo.

You monsters.

If I press this button,
the only Hulk that exists

will be Edward Norton.

It'll be like Ruffalo never happened.

You're bluffing.

I'll delete Baby Groot, Baby Yoda,

and their brand-new
top secret character...

Baby Jeff Goldblum.

On the one hand, uh, "goo,"

but I'd be remiss if I didn't
also mention, uh, "gaa."

Oh, my golly.

It's me as a baby.

Good God, she's not bluffing.

Stand down. Let 'em go.

I'll do it.

Um... we now return you
to your regularly

"shed-you-uled" programming.

(SIGHS): Oh.

How do you lose two children?!

What kind of jamboree
are you running here?

(BOTH SHUDDERING)

(HOMER AND MARGE GASP)

HOMER: Yeah, you're back.

(SMOOCHING)

Ew.

When we get home, can we turn on the TV

and never, ever go outdoors again?

- Please?
- Pretty please?

I've never been prouder of you two.

While you were gone,

your mom and I almost got divorced

over something insignificant.

Luckily, your dad apologized.

Yup, I got it down at this point.

It's all about the eye contact.

MARGE: He knows what works.

(FEMALE HACKER WHOOPS, LAUGHS)

Maybe we didn't get the Bitcoin,

but we've got each other.

Oh, darling, I think we should do it,

I think we should tell
each other our real names.

My name is Ashley.

- (TIRES SCREECHING)
- No! So is mine.

- Oh...
- Ashley.

Oh, Ashley.

- Ashley, Ashley.
- Oh, oh, British Ashley. Mmm...

Shh!