All language subtitles for The.Simpsons.S06E25.Who.Shot.Mr.Burns.1.1080p.DSNP.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-MZABI_track3_[eng]

♪ The Simpsons ♪

D'

Is there nothing so intoxicating

as the school hallway
at early morn?

School normally
doesn't smell so rank.

Washbasin fresh.

That funk must be coming
from one of the classrooms.

Poor fellow.

Crushed by his own water bottle.

Willie, sometime
over the holiday weekend

the beloved grade four gerbil...

Super Dude, lost his life.

I need you to air out
the classroom and give

Super Dude a proper burial.

Yeah, you're lucky you're
getting a decent burial.

Me own father
got thrown in the bog.

What in the name of
Saint Ephisiocritus?

Yuck, what reeks?

Smells like one of Van Houten's.

It does not.

Miss Hoover,
the floor is shaking.

Ralph, remember the time
you thought the...

Now, before we adjourn,
gentlemen, I have

one last matter
of utmost importance.

I need to send this parcel

with the profit projections
to Pete Porter in Pasadena

and it absolutely positively

has to be there overnight.

- Pete Porter. Pass it on.
- Pasadena, promptly.

Package to parcel
processing, pronto.

Profoundly pressing package of
power plant profit projections

for Pete Porter in Pasadena.

- Priority?
- Precisely.

Here's your package,
Mr. Burns!

My name is the return address,
you senseless dunderpate.

Smithers, who
is this nincompoop?

I've worked here for ten years

and my boss doesn't
even know my name.

Well, that's going
to change right now!

My name is Homer J. Simp...

Son.

Sounded large when I ordered it.

I can't make hide nor hair
of these metric booby traps.

My Lord!

Such destruction.

Superintendent Chalmers!

- How are you going?
- Why is it when I heard

the word "school"
And the word "exploded"

I immediately thought
of the word "Skinner"!

Congratulations, gentlemen,
your custodian struck oil.

You're standing on top of
the richest elementary school

in the state.

He also found this.

Thank you, Super Dude.

A non-profit organization
with oil?!

I won't allow it.

An oil well doesn't
belong in the hands

of Betsy Bleedingheart
and Maynard G. Muskeyvote.

Sir, have you had enough

exercise for this morning?

No.

Let's go another 20 miles.

Hello, Lenny, Carl, Guillermo.

Hello...

Um, um...

Don't take it so hard, Homer.

He's always screwing
up people's names.

Yeah, at the picnic
he thought my son Renaldo

was my son Rolando.

Can you believe that?

Superintendent,
we made the front page today.

What's that say
under your hand there?

It's an unrelated article.

It's an unrelated article?

Within the banner headline?

Yes. Now to redirect
our conversation slightly,

I had a few ideas on how
to spend this oil money.

Well, we could give each student

a full college scholarship.

Mercy...

Seriously, though,
before we draw up the budget

I believe the students
and faculty have

a few suggestions.

I want a crystal bucket
for my slopwater.

And a brand new filthy blanket.

The cafeteria staff

is complaining about
the mice in the kitchen.

I want to hire a new staff.

I'd like to start a jazz program
for the music department.

We've got a really great
instructor lined up.

Tito Puente!

He's ready to give up
the drudgery

of the professional
mambo circuit

and settle into a nice
teaching job.

Man, it would be my pleasure!

Lisa has told me
all your students

are as bright and dedicated
to jazz as she is.

Let's go now, Mr. Puente.

Chocolate microscopes.

You know those guitars
that are, like,

double guitars, you know?

More rubber stamps.

Principal Skinner,
this is your secretary.

There is one last student
here to see you.

That's odd.
I don't have a secretary

or an intercom, but send him in.

Ahoy, there, Dean.

I understand you're taking
suggestions from students?

Well, me and
my fourth form chums

think it would be quite corking

if you'd sign over your oil well
to the local energy concern.

Mr. Burns...

It was naive of you
to think I would mistake

this town's most prominent
104-year-old man

for one of my
elementary school students.

I want that oil well.

I've got a monopoly to maintain.

I own the electric company
and the water works

plus the hotel on Baltic Avenue.

That hotel's a dump, and
your monopoly's pathetic.

The school's oil well
is not for sale

particularly to a black-hearted
scoundrel like yourself!

I see.

Then I'll just have to...
attack you!

I must have that oil.

Smithers, help me subdue this...

beast.

Sorry, sir,
this is all I could find.

Take that!
And that!

Please don't waste those.

I'm happy for the school.

It sounds like this money
is gonna provide

a lot of new opportunities.

Big deal.

They didn't approve my idea.
They said it was unfeasible.

It is unfeasible to
resurrect the dead, Bart,

and even if
the Three Stooges were alive

I doubt they'd want
to hang around with you.

Yeah. I guess they'd
probably want to be

with their families
or something?

I hate my job.

I mean, what's the point
when your boss

doesn't even remember your name?

- I have an idea.
- What? What's your idea?

When my father was first trying
to catch my mother's eye

he sent her a box of candy
with his photo in it.

After that,
she never forgot him.

That's all well and good

but it's not really your idea,
is it now, Marge?

That's it.

Fumble about with
your widgets and do-bobs.

It'll all be
a monument to futility

when my plan comes to fruition.

Sir...

what I'm about to say violates

every sycophantic urge
in my body

but I wish you would reconsider.

This isn't a rival company
you're battling with.

It's a school.
People won't stand for it.

Pish-posh.

It will be like taking candy
from a baby.

Say, that sounds like a larf.

Let's try it right now.

There's some candy
right here, sir.

Why don't we eat this
instead of stealing?

Very well.

Look, there's a photo in here.

Yes.
I believe that's little

Maggie Simpson,
the baby who found

my precious teddy bear, Bobo.

And that Simpson mutt.

My former guard dog.

Ooh, and that's Bart Simpson.

He was my heir for a
brief period, you know?

Yes, sir.
I remember.

Anything left?

Only the sour quince log, sir.

Ew. Dispose of it.

And send a thank you note

to Marge, Bart, Lisa
and Maggie Simpson.

Today Springfield Elementary
embarks on a new era...

An era of unbridled spending

where petrodollars will fuel

our wildest
educational fantasies.

These young minds will enjoy
every academic advantage

till they enter
Springfield High School

which has no oil well.

We got an air hockey table.

Fine. Now to switch on
our oil pump

for the very first time,

here's our top student,
Lisa Simpson.

Nerd!

There's no pressure!

Someone else
has tapped this well.

Ay caramba!

Soon that mighty apparatus

will burst forth with
its precious fluid.

Almost sexual,
isn't it, Smithers?

Meh.

Oil ho!

Huzzah!

Whoa!

Holy Christmas!

Your dog's condition has been
upgraded from stable to frisky.

And he's free to go.

His legs should be as good
as new in a few months.

In the meantime,
he'll have to use

the wheelabout.

I'll get even with whoever
did this to you, boy.

I swear it.

Whoops.
Almost forgot.

Wouldn't want you gnawing
on those casts, boy?

Ha ha!

Ha ha.

I'm afraid
we've got no legal recourse

against Mr. Burns and his
slant drilling operation.

The oil belongs
to whoever pumped it first.

What about all
the expensive stuff we wanted?

- Can we still have it?
- No.

- Blast it!
- In fact,

to pay for the construction
and operation

and demolition
of our new derrick

the school will
have to eliminate

all nonessential programs...

- Music...
- What?

And maintenance.

I'll kill that Mr. Burns!

And... wound that Mr. Smithers.

Guh, out of my way!

No,
that's awful, Mr. Puente.

What?

He owns the nuclear power plant.

Yeah, I'd like to settle
his hash too.

Dad, how can you work
for a man like Mr. Burns?

Well, he's not all bad.

He did send me
this nice thank-you card.

"Marge, Bart,
Lisa and Maggie."

Dad, this doesn't have
your name on it.

Kids, would you
step outside for a second?

F...

Dear Lord, that's the loudest
profanity I've ever heard.

These fumes aren't
as fun as beer.

Sure, I'm all dizzy and nauseous

but where's the inflated
sense of self-esteem?

Hey, if you guys are
getting loaded off them fumes,

I'm gonna have to charge you.

Man alive,
there are men alive in here.

I'm detecting over 20
different toxins in the air.

All right, everybody out.

As long as Burns is pumping oil,
this bar is closed.

Damn Burns.

Let me just get one thing.

Me, too.

Now there's the inflated
sense of self-esteem.

Earthquake!

Nurse.

- Nurse.
- Nurse!

Well, sir, you've certainly
vanquished all your enemies...

The elementary school,
the local tavern

the old age home.

You must be very proud.

No, not while my
greatest nemesis

still provides our customers

with free light,
heat and energy.

I call this enemy the sun.

Since the beginning of time

man has yearned
to destroy the sun.

I will do the next best thing...

Block it out.

Good God!

Imagine it, Smithers.

Electrical lights and heaters
running all day long.

But sir, every plant
and tree will die.

Owls will deafen us
with incessant hooting.

The town sundial
will be useless.

I don't want any part
of this project.

It's unconscionably fiendish.

I will not suffer
your insubordination!

There has been
a shocking decline

in the quality and quantity
of your toadying, Wayland.

And you will fall into line.

Now!

No. No, Monty, I won't.

Not until you step back
from the brink of insanity.

I'll do no such thing.

You're fired.

Take that, Bowlarama.

Take that, convenience mart.

Take that, nuclear power pl...

Fiddlesticks.

I must say Mr. Burns is
being awfully inconsiderate.

Selfish even.

Burns needs some serious
boost-a-fazoo right, Dad?

Dad?

Homer!

Sorry, Grandpa. It's just
that for a second,

it looked like Dad had melted.

Well, get used to it,
'cause I'm living here now.

I ain't going back
to the retirement home

until they fish my bed
out of that sinkhole.

Strained carrots for Maggie.

Strained carrots for Grandpa.

I want a bib, too.

Smithers, who is that ignoramus?

Smithers, who is
that lallygagger?

Who is that blubber pot?

Who is that baffle wit?

Lummox, puddinghead,
limp noodle.

Drizzlepuss.
Fumbleface.

Stop it!
Stop it! Stop it!

Look out!

What?

Just a minute.

Who the devil are you?

Homer Simpson.

What are you talking about?
Make sense, man.

Homer Simpson!
Shut up!

I can't understand
a word you're saying.

- Homer Simpson!
- You're just babbling incoherently.

My name is Homer Simpson!

You're a dead man, Burns.
You're dead.

You're dead, Burns!

Hey, the lamp's running away.

That's my dog, man.

So long, lamp.

Now, stop loafing and
help your grandpa unpack.

Wow!

That's my old Smith & Wesson.

If you're going to play with it

be careful 'cause it's loaded.

Aah!
Bart, put that down!

Guns are very dangerous.

And I won't have
them in this house.

How can you have a house
without a gun?

What if a bear
came through the door?

I'm going to bury it in the yard

where little
hands can't get to it.

You should have
fired into the air.

She would have run off.

People, take it easy.

We're all upset
about Mr. Burns' plan

to block out our sun.

It is time for decisive action.

I have here a polite
but firm letter

to Mr. Burns' underlings

who, with some cajoling,
will pass it along to him

or at least give him
the gist of it.

Sir, a lot of people
are stroking guns.

Also, it has been brought
to my attention

that a number of you
are stroking guns.

Therefore, I will step aside
and open up the floor.

Mr. Burns was the closest
thing I ever had to a...

friend.

But he fired me.

And now I spend my days

drinking cheap scotch
and watching Comedy Central.

Dear God.

It's not that bad.

I never miss
"Pardon My Zinger."

Burns cost me my groundskeeping
job at the school

and I'm too superstitious to
take the one at the cemetery.

'Cause of him,
I lost my room, my things,

and my buddy's collection
of old sunbathing magazines.

You bastard.

I lost my bar!

I lost his bar!

He robbed the school of music!

He robbed the school
of financial security!

He robbed the school of Tito!

He can't remember my name!

He's causing us all to yell!

Look what he did
to my best friend.

Wha...?

No. My dog.

Those wheels
are squeaking a bit.

Perhaps I could sell him
a little oil.

You twisted old monster!

I've decided to protect myself

ever since
I was attacked in my office

by an unidentified assailant.

D'

Arr!
Burns, your scurvy schemes

will earn ye a one-way passage
to the boneyard.

I'd like to hear
from Sideshow Mel.

I'll see to it
that Mr. Burns suffers

the infernal machinations
of hell's grim tyrant.

Yeah.

Ooh, you all talk big

but who here
has the guts to stop me?

Very well.

One last question...

Have you ever seen
the sun set at 3 p.m.?

Ay. Once, when I was
sailing around the arctic...

Shut up, you.

Take one last look
at the sun, Springfield.

Hey, hey!

I've been in Reno for six weeks.

Did I miss anything?

What the...

Eternal darkness.

Well, that's just great.

Listen, someone's got
to get that Mr. Burns.

Where's a gun-toting lowlife
when you need one?

Sorry.
I was in the can.

Perpetual twilight

bathed in the glow of
Burns' brand electricity.

Hello, lamppost.

What you knowing?

I've come to watch
your power flowing.

That's odd. Mr. Smithers
left his jacket behind.

Whoa, that's odd.

Principal Skinner
left his mother behind.

That's odd.

Where's Homer and Bart
and Lisa and Grandpa?

After all these years

things are finally
starting to go my way.

I feel like celebrating.

I... It's you.

What are you so happy about?

I see.

Well, I think you'd
better drop it.

I said drop it!

Get your hands off...

Where is everybody?

Hey, man, are you okay?

I won't...

dignify that...

with a response.

Mr. Burns has been shot.

Just a minute.

This isn't
Mr. Burns at all.

It's a mask.

Wait. It is Burns.

His wrinkly skin
looks like a mask.

I don't think we'll
ever know who did this.

Everyone in town's a suspect.

Well, I couldn't possibly
solve this mystery.

Can you?

Yeah, I'll give it a shot.

I mean, you know,
it's my job, right?

♪♪

Shh!

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