All language subtitles for The.Simpsons.S28E12.HDTV.x264-KILLERS[eztv]

In my younger and
more vulnerable years,

my father gave me some advice.

He said, "The laziest
way to tell a story

is through voice-over narration."

With that in mind, I tell the
tale of the tragic collision

between the last tycoon of the Jazz Age

and the king of a hip-hop empire.

It began with an old man

feeling like his best
years had passed him by.

You seem glum, sir.

How about a blood transfusion?

We have some new small batch,

single donor plasmas.

Mmm. Better make it a double.

My life used to be so lively,
so full of excitement.

Such shindigs I threw
at my summer estate.

In an age of shameful excess,

my parties were legendary for
their magnificent excess.

Fortunes were won and lost at my tables.

Affairs were launched on my dance floor

and consummated on my floor-floor.

Sultans mingled with Sultans of Swat.

And presiding over it all was me,

Monogram Monty Burns.

Well...

what if we throw a classic shindig

at your old summer place?

Why, yes.

A beachside bacchanal

just like the Roaring Twenties.

That'll put the Cole back in my Porter.

What fun.

Now, I have 45 close friends

who are all pretty
amazing party planners.

I'm not squandering money

on some chap to bring in a photo booth.

I'll take care of every detail myself.

Everything, sir?

Oh, fine. You can fetch the ice.

Okay. How many bags?

Oh, no. None of those
pricey store-bought cubes.

Now, you head up to Northern Canada

and get me a quarter ton of lake ice.

Hand-sawn and tong-carried.

Risk my life in the arctic wilderness

just to bring you some ice.

It would be an honor.

Would you like it packed in
cedar sawdust or Spanish oak?

Oh, who cares? Ice is ice.

It says Mega Stuf on the package,

but these are Double Stuf at best.

What?

Send me a free tub of Stuf and
I'll shut down my Web site.

Simpson, you seem fairly popular,

at least based on the cheers you
got at employee karaoke night.

It's not me, it's "Mustang Sally."

Mr. Burns is throwing a little party,

and most of his invitees are
either dead or fictional.

Uh, to, uh, well, fill out the crowd,

uh, perhaps you could, uh,
distribute these invitations

to your more, uh, presentable friends.

I know just who to invite.

- You're not invited.
- To what?

None of your business!

All right.

"Your esteemed
presence is requested

"for an evening of madcap
magic and mischief

at Monty Burns' Middle Hampton estate."

The card stock is so thick.

Bart, get in here and feel this stock.

Oh, man, that's heavy.

The Springfield Hamptons?

That's on Lengthy Island,

where rich people hang
out on summer weekends.

I know all about it from
cartoons in literary magazines.

I'm not reading all that.

Well, now to select the
perfect guest list

of our city's sharpest wits
and glittering socialites.

Boy oh boy, a '20s shindig
at Old Man Burnsie's.

Probably gonna be
bathtubs full of shrimp

and Jacuzzis full of brisket.

Maybe I'll meet a rich bachelor
who will sweep me off my feet.

How do I smell?

Like a wood fire put out
by dumping coffee on it.

Oh! Perfect.

Hey, everyone, hey!

I'm off-duty, so please

don't feel weird doing
drugs in front of me.

Uh, or with me.

I became a cop too young.

I never lived.

I didn't live.

And so I entered
a world of wealth.

Where mansions are called "cottages."

And getting drunk on a boat

is called "sailing."

Get ready for fancy.

I don't see any magic.

And not a hint of mischief.

Off-brand Ritz cracker?

Salt pile?

Nothing in a blanket?

Dad, did Mr. Burns cheap out?

That's impossible.

He's the richest man in town.

If I had known this was a cash bar,

I would've gotten wasted beforehand!

At my sister's house!

Welcome, honored guests.

Leave your inhibitions at the door.

And write your name on your drink cup,

you will not receive a second.

Now, dance the night away on my
vintage 1920s parquet floor.

The cleaning of which is not cheap,

so be sure to don your
protective booties.

Look, Mr. Burns,

nobody loves a party with
rules more than I do.

Even I'm baffled by the
toilet payment system.

Oh, it's simple, bring the chit
from the applicable restroom

to the purser...

You might've been fun a
hundred years ago, Burnsie,

but now you're a cheap, old lamewad.

And trust me, I know cheap.

That's right, I bought a suit,

Xeroxed it, returned
it, and wore the copy.

- Waste of my time.
- Why is everyone leaving?

Of course, no ice.

Mm, that lazy Smithers is probably

sipping hot buttered rum in a ski chalet

overlooking Lake Louise.

Hey, Mr. Burns, fun party.

No one felt any pressure
to talk or laugh

or stay past 7:30.

Super chill.

Oh, hush. I'm a worn-out old miser

who's forgotten the meaning of fun.

Great Gatsby!

What is that?

Someone else is having a
party across the bay.

Once I
would've thought nothing

of rowing across the water
and crashing that party.

All doors would open for Monogram Monty.

That was a long time ago.

Aw, I'll row you over.

How hard could it be?

Oh, so hard.

Would it help if I whipped you?

Maybe.

Yeah, a little.

Yeah, yeah.

Yeah.

Whoa, it's a white party.

Just the kind I used to throw.

Although we interpreted the
theme a bit differently

in those days.

Mm, whoever is throwing
this magnificent to-do

knows how to enjoy their wealth.

Ooh, excessive.

Tell me, where can I find our host?

I haven't met him.

No one has ever met him.

He doesn't exist.

Oh, he's upstairs in his office.

Are you the host of
this incredible soiree?

I must tell you, it's
the most incandescent,

most dazzling...

My name is Jay G.

And nobody crashes my party.

Not even you nobodies.

Let's go, Mr. Burns.

What did you say?

Mr. Burns and I were just leaving.

Are you Montgomery Burns,
the despised billionaire?

Well, that's what my cuff links say.

There's something I've wanted
to tell you for a long time,

you ruthless monster.

I love you.

I can't believe I'm
meeting the Monty Burns.

How do you know me?

You're the dude who wrote
The Rungs of Ruthlessness.

Yes, back then
they'd give a book contract

to any CEO with a power
tie and a bonsai tree.

When I was a boy, I found a copy

left on the seat of a bus I stole.

And after I read it, I knew I'd
jacked my last courtesy shuttle.

Your book became my bible.

"Every empire needs an emblem."

See? There you told me to find a symbol

to represent my brand.

And there he is, the living
logo of Golden Goose Records,

Goosius.

You make me believe I can fly.

Goosius is on everything

from my cognac-flavored vodka

to the brake pads I
coproduced with Lil Wayne.

Aw, he eats the same way I do,

without swallowing.

You've flown south for the
winter with my heart.

I hope this bite never heals.

When I wrote an advice
book, I never dreamed

it would help anyone.

Everything I am I owe to you.

And a little bit to Baz Luhrmann.

This. This is what I thought
I'd never have again.

Well, then good news, Monty.

This is your party.

And so was forged the
most unlikely of friendships.

A man who discovered Rick Ross

and a man who dated Betsy Ross.

The next day, my family
explored Middle Hampton.

A wonderland of boutiques

paid for by rich husbands

wanting to keep their wives busy.

Mainly second wives.

What kind of crazy flavors are these?

Quince jelly and pepper?

Market greens?

Bone broth brittle?

I don't know what this place hates more,

kids or ice cream.

Really, man, a 3 Series?

I mean, what is he?

A sophomore at Exeter?

Yeah, one cup of salted caramel.

Woo-woo-woo, scoop with
the stripe, stupid.

I mean...

That kid just cut in line.

Are you gonna let him do that?

That's Blake Black.

His dad runs BlackLake Investments.

So?

Richest dad rules?

Everyone knows that.

Well, I don't.

Don't misunderstand me,

Mats Wilander may have
been a decent player,

but until his ingl�s gets
just a little bit better,

he can coach somebody else.

Pardon me a second.

What is it, head points, what?

Just because your father has money

doesn't mean you can cut.

Hmm, it kind of looks like it does.

All right, I'll tell you what:

because I am a nice guy,

I am going to pay for everyone's cones.

Is that okay? Does that make it okay?

- Yeah!
- Yes!

No!

I would never accept ice cream

from someone whose manners are
in the bottom one percent!

Boom.

So, hey, hi.

Are you going to the Allens'

hot-dog-and-horseshoes thing later?

No.

The Forstmans' firefly thing?

No.

The Olins' jellyfish fry thing?

I'm not going to any things at all!

But I want to, um, hang out.

What? Why?

I've never met anyone
like you before.

Anyone with, you know,
I don't know, um,

morals.

Oh.

Well, I guess it is
a little judgy of me

to be completely disgusted by you.

Great, I'll set something up.
Erin, are you on?

Okay, I need to bail on the
Kravises' freeze tag thing.

No, I know, I have to.

Send the big basket.

What's wrong, honey?

Lisa's got a rich boyfriend,

Dad's hanging out with a
hip-hop super producer,

and I'm stuck window-shopping

with you two fun-sucking stink buckets.

It's not fair!

Life's not fair, kid.

Do I know you?

If life was fair,
you would know me.

But know this:
Jay G ain't all that.

What do you mean?

Buy a candle and I'll tell you.

What's your cheapest one?

$55.

No way. I could start a fire
in the woods for nothing.

So Bart met someone who
I think comes back later.

I forget why.

Hmm. Who would have thought
two billionaire Republicans

from such different backgrounds
could end up as chums?

Is not green a more powerful
color than black or white?

The Lord picks a select few
to accumulate more money

than anyone else.

You and I bear that sacred avarice.

Each of my enterprises
has its own G6.

What's that one?

That's for my...

personal horticulturalist.

You know what I'm sayin'?

I don't.

You seem to get so much joy

out of your money. I envy you.

You've given me so much, Monty.

Let me give you something back:
the freedom to live large.

A charge plate?

I've never had one of those
newfangled swipe-a-ma-jigs.

It's an Obsidian Card,
the most exclusive.

No spending limit, no store
has ever heard of it.

But they have to accept it.

Take it if you want to roll like G.

Don't forget to sign it.

Oh, right.

No, no, not a felt-tip.
Oh! It'll smudge.

Okay, quick, blow on it to dry the ink.

Blake, I have to say,
this whale watch

was a very thoughtful idea.

Oh, it's a whole family.

But they're so far away.

Far? Babe, when you whale watch with me,

you sit pod-side.

Fellas! What can we do here?

This way, the whales know we are VIPs.

Um, where's the baby?

There's supposed to be a baby.

I paid for a calf.

Does that mean anything?

Whale-copters? VIP pod-view?

This is awful!

Well, if we went on
some lame econo-watch,

we might not see blowhole one.

I mean, what are you saying?

Are you hearing yourself?

Blake, I really believed
you could change.

And you did, you became
even more horrible.

These aren't VIP emotions.

This is worse than the time

I had to eat grocery store sushi.

The shiso leaf was plastic!

It was plastic!

You got to buy it,
M.B., it's fate.

Oh, I don't know.

$100,000 feels like a lot of money.

You've got to splash the cash,

fling the bling, spill them bills.

It don't matter, just
splatter the batter.

Splash the cash.

Monogram Monty is back!

Now, what are you generous
folks willing to pay

for a basketball lesson
with Charles Barkley?

$10,000.

$20,000. $30,000.

Do I hear $50,000?

$1 million.

M.B., if you could only feel
what I feel right now...

$1 million, going once, going twice...

$10 million!

Sold!

I just spent more money than I know

on something I don't even want.

And it's the greatest
feeling I've ever had!

Still better than Shaq.

Mr. Burns was living the highlight.

splurging on every luxury, even
the ultimate indulgence...

useless hangers-on like me.

Noice.

To think, all the years I
wasted without a posse.

Good-bye, loneliness.

We get all this stuff

just for letting Mr. Burns
beat us in mini golf.

What a deal!

My whole job is to not
make eye contact with him.

I thought I'd get tired
of window-shopping

in this fancy little town,
but it ain't happening.

A chessboard where the
pieces are lipsticks!

A horse show!

A protest!

Huh?

Blake, is that you?

What happened to your privilege?

I checked it.

Lisa, when you rejected me,

I knew I had to do whatever it took

to become worthy of you.

This now runs on solar
power and falafel.

Now, that's sustainable!

I've dedicated my entire allowance

to Trustafarians for Horse Justice.

Here's an upside down
bucket for you to drum on.

Well, what girl could say no

to a socially conscious drum circle?

Yo, lamp dress,

I've got all access paddock
passes to the horse show.

Check out these sweet mane combs.

I can get you up close to the horses

for primo grooming time.

Combing is murder!

Combing is murder!

Primo grooming time.

The test of a
first-rate intelligence

is the ability to hold
two opposing ideas

in the mind at the same time

and still retain the
ability to function.

Horsey, horsey, horsey, horsey, horsey!

For her, I gave up
what meant most to me:

being a douche.

Mr. Burns, your bill came
from the Obsidian Card.

Are you sure you're not
spending too much money?

Hush, you sound like Smithers.

Where is that loafer with my ice?

Fill her up!

And make it snappy.

My best pal and I are going shopping

for those yachts that have
little submarines in them.

Sir, your card was declined.

Goulash!

Absolute goulash!

It's linked to my bank account.

I'd have to be penniless

before that card didn't work.

Well, then that means you're broke.

Broke?

Me?

Broke? Me?

Yes, I'm afraid I have
to destroy your card.

Good luck. It's tempered titanium

and coated with powdered diamond.

Don't take it.

This car leased in someone
else's name is who I am!

My entire fortune, spent and gone.

I splashed all my cash.

Don't be so hard on yourself.

It was your first credit card.

And I handled it as well as a
freshman at Michigan State!

Mr. Burns, I think Jay wanted
you to bankrupt yourself.

Why would you say such a thing?

It's number one on the charts.

Jay G is CEO of Obsidian!

Biotch!

If these rhymes are to be believed,

Jay lured me into debt and
now he owns everything.

Even my beloved nuclear plant.

Our magical friendship was a sham!

The loneliest
moment in someone's life

is when they're watching their
whole world fall apart.

And all they can do is stare blankly.

Oh, no, wait, he's crying now.
That's worse.

Now he's really sobbing heavy.

Oh, now he's gone to his knees
and he ripped his shirt open.

All of his buttons
fell off of his shirt.

Oh, now he's kicking his porch.

Oh, he hurt his foot and
he's hopping around.

Oh, he tripped over a dog.

That's way worse.

Montgomery Burns had hit rock-bottom.

F. Scott Fitzgerald onde wrote:

"There are no second
acts in American lives."

But he never said anything
about second parts

in American TV shows.

I should've seen it all coming.

My eyes were clouded by
the cataracts of excess.

And by an excess of cataracts.

Wait. What happened to my posse?

Don't you worry. A posse's
loyalty is forever.

Hey, Burnsie, I didn't get any
brand-new sneakers today.

I can't be wearing
two-day-old sneakers.

Hey, if there's no
more money, we'll take

our personalized bowling balls,

fold-up bicycles, and go.

I'm here for my hounds.

Huh! Preposterous. I raised
those hounds from pups.

I'm the only master
they've ever known.

One word from me and
they'll rip you apart.

Commence ripping!

Dogs can smell power.

Sign this release legally
releasing the hounds.

If you don't, Mr. Jay G
will release the hounds.

Jay, I don't understand. I
thought we were friends.

We were going to open up a
money-losing winery together.

We can still hang out. Even
though our owners are fighting.

Not being bitten...

hurts the most.

Everyone's gone.
Even Smithers never bothered

to return from Canada
with my lake ice.

Good Simpson. Faithful Simpson.

You would never go back
to the nuclear plant

that was so cruelly taken from me.

What does your heart say?

I looked deep into my heart,

and it said...

Uh... let me ask my wife.

I don't care if Mr. Burns doesn't own

the nuclear plant anymore. You
still have to work there.

You have a wife, a family,

and a store to support.

You're right, you're right.

Wait. A store?

I have a store.

How did that happen?

Well, you spend enough
time in the Hamptons

and you have any flair at all,

you just wind up with a store.

Where should we put the
19th century doctor's kits?

Ooh, ooh! In the window next
to the state-shaped erasers.

But I feel bad leaving Mr.
Burns. I'm all he's got.

Can't we live off the
money from your store?

Oh, God, no!

Right now I'm still
building inventory.

Luckily, the pincushion
store across the street

went out of business.

I just swooped right in
and bought up everything.

Okay.

With my dear wife
losing her marbles,

I had to turn my back
on poor, broken Burns

and go to work at, well, the
sexiest nuclear plant on Earth.

Homer Simpson?

Boss wants to see you.

Hey, baby.

Mixtape coming soon, ladies.

"Rung six. To ensure
an employee's loyalty,

you must crush their
attachments to the past."

You wanted to see me, Mr. G?

Relax, Homer, we're good.
When you entered my gates,

I knew you'd turn your
back on Old Man Burns.

And I respect that.

Yeah. I ditched him, all right.

In his hour of need.

But I feel good about it.

Really good.

Ow! Ow!

Oh... I missed that.

Because I know you're so loyal to me,

I have a very special job for you.

Removing the last trace of Monty Burns

from the power plant he loves.

Don't look at me.

Stop looking at me!

You did good.

Here's your reward.

Cobbler.

I've got a granny in Atlanta who
custom bakes them just for me.

Peach, berry, cherry,

rhubarb, pineapple.

You can't cobbler pineapple.

Yet here it is.

Homie, what's wrong?

I've never seen
such beautiful cobbler.

But there was a hole in me
that even a thousand pans

of hot fruit couldn't fill.

I had betrayed Mr. Burns
and felt sick about it.

Searching for an open
grave in which to barf,

I heard a horrible sound,

which I was strangely drawn towards.

Mr. Burns, what are you
doing in this death hole?

All I have left
is my family mausoleum.

Would you like a sip of grief soup?

I stewed it from flowers
left on graves.

I confess, I went back
to work at the plant.

Jay G seduced me with cobbler.

But after the eighth pan,
it tasted like ashes.

Ice cream got me through
three more pans,

but after that, ashes.

Well, now you have to
decide, once and for all,

where your allegiance lies.

I'm not going back to that job.

I'm gonna stay here with you
and we're going to get even

with Jay G.

And as God is my witness,

I will not tell my wife
what I'm up to.

Oh, that's good.

Come on, Simpson.

Give me more ideas
to get back at Jay G.

- Fill his office with balloons?
- Too soft.

Fill his office with scorpions?

Eh, I'm having a fight
with my scorpion guy.

Oh, oh, oh. Banana in his tailpipe.

I can't afford a banana!

What's that? A spy! Grab him.

Come here, spy.

What are you doing here, boy?

You're not dead. Are you?

I followed you. I got suspicious
when you came home last night

covered in grave dirt.

Be gone, urchin. We have work to do.

Wait, wait! He can help.

No one's better at nasty
schemes than this kid.

I mean, he's messed up.

Look at him. You got to figure
his family life's a disaster.

Why should I help Burns
now that he's broke?

I've got more money than he does.

Would the cape and gloves

of the infamous Gaslight Strangler

change your mind?

If you want to take down a
rapper, you got to destroy

the thing that's most
important to him: his rep.

Rep means reputation.

To do that, we got to go
to the ultimate expert

on urban culture.

A white nerd.

So, in South Central
Springfield in the '90s,

there were four major
hip-hop sub-scenes.

The Good Time Mafia,
Licorice Avenue,

The Dirty, Dirty North,
and The FLTA.

The Fine Ladies Thug Army.

Fascinating.

Yes, yes.
But do you have anything

we can use against my
sworn enemy, Jay G?

Before he was Jay G,
he was Jeremy Gilroy,

a founding member of
The Five Boyfriends,

a soulful R&B quintet.

Hey, I know this guy.

He tried to sell me a $55 candle!

That's Jazzy James,
the Lyrical Miracle.

He wrote all of Jay's early hits.

But they had a falling out,

and he was never heard from again.

Then only one man can write the rap

that will ruin the rep of Jay G.

Jazzy James.

I told you this
guy would come back.

Told you.

Yeah, I used to be Jazzy James.

The Lyrical Miracle?

My skills were empirical.

I wrote all the rhymes for Jay
G's first hip-hop record.

I didn't get a dime, because I
signed over all the rights.

Why'd you do that?

All right, all right.

I'll sign!

He took my money, stole my girl,

made me get a tattoo of the
baseball from Major League.

It broke me. I fell hard,

into scented candles.

Quince.

Listen, Jazzy. We're
gonna tear down Jay G

with the ultimate revenge rap.

And you're gonna write it.

Oh...

I'm in.

Excellent.

What is... rap?

Quick, boy! Hide this thing.

Homie, it's so sweet of you
to come visit me at my store.

But aren't you gonna get in
trouble for missing work?

You let me worry about
the nuclear plant.

The important thing for you to do

is believe I still work there.

I can't wait to show you
the changes I've made.

We're getting a lot of foot traffic.

Three people used the
bathroom yesterday.

How much should I charge
for these handbags

made from the speaker
covers of old jukeboxes?

Five dollars.
No, no, no, no, no.

A hundred dollars!

It's happening. It's happening.

I love my store!

We're putting up new wallpaper.

Is Mom gonna be okay?

I don't know, son, I don't know.

Oh, it's not her, fellas.

It's the curse of the
adorable little store.

Didn't always used to be like this.
No, no.

Once, this land was
full of actual stores,

as far as the eye could see.

Then the rich people came. They
didn't need to make money,

they just needed a place for
their friends to wander into,

after spin class.

Yeah, that's progress for you.

I suppose.

And so, with
Jazzy James on board,

Mr. Burns set out to produce
the ultimate revenge rap.

I...

It's... It's no use. I've lost it.

I need you to rap like
your world is ending.

Like you just found out
that capital gains

are going to be taxed at the
same rate as ordinary income.

I need you to put your
entire soul into it.

Now rhyme, Jazzy, rhyme!

I got nothin'. Just take
me back to my candles.

I need my quince!

Wait, I have another idea.

I'm feelin' it!

I'm feelin' it!

Now, almost drop me.

Why does this work?

Yeah!

Whoa, it rhymed!

Now that's what I call

a corking revenge rap.

If anyone's hungry, we've
set up a deli platter

in the lobby.

I'm hungry!

For gettin' what's mine.

Oh. Ain't no deli platter
ordered for a recording session

that Praline doesn't hear about.

Praline? She's Jay G's ex-wife.

I thought you were in prison.

That's what the guards said,

but I wasn't having that.

Oh, we duckin' now?

So that's how it is?

I see.

Oh, no, he didn't.

No, he did not.

- Shut up, Miata.
- Oh.

Put that rare roast beef in a baggie.

Mm-hmm, that one.

So, Praline, are you
with us or against us?

Jay G took everything from me.

You best believe I'm going
to take everything from him.

Get the ham!

We're really glad to have you.

Thanks for your help.

Who you thankin'?

I'm not doing this for
you, boo boo kitty.

With an angry
ex-wife on our team,

we were unstoppable.

Praline brought in
an all-star lineup

of Jay G's enemies
to lend their hatred

to the world's greatest diss rap.

RZA, Snoop and Common.

Wait, I just remembered
Jay crashed my Jet Ski.

I hope he get food poisoning
from nachos. Peace!

Yo, Common, that was tight.

Respect, 'House.

Oh, when this track drops,
some feelings gonna get hurt.

Obliverated.

Indeed. I just wish Smithers
and his ice were here

to witness my revenge.

Fight, fight, fight.

Prepare for

the turning of the worms.

No offense, worms.

I now drop "Choke on
Diss," aka "Rhyme Crime,"

by Hate Squad, featuring
the Rhyme Crime All-Stars.

Why isn't it dropping?

Release the sounds!

Damn!

Sorry to crash your party
as a hologram, M.B.,

but I'm having a little
celebration of my own.

I just bought the master recording

of your so-called diss rap.

Ha, no way.

Jazzy James and Hate Squad,

featuring the Rhyme Crime
All-Stars hate you!

They'd never sell out.

They would...

for money!

Sorry, Monty.

Jay G is the best producer
in the world

and you're a tone-deaf
pauper who lives in a grave.

Ouch.

I thought I hated him,
but now I don't.

So now I'm here.

If you can't handle a
strong female hologram,

that's on you.

Jay G and D-O-double-G.

We flipped the script.

This ultimate betrayal

is part of your spiritual journey.

Lesson one: protect your neck.

Say good-bye to your
revenge rap forever.

'Cause it's about to drop.

Party at the power plant, y'all.

I swear on the squid
beak of Lord Cthulhu

and all his briny shoggoths,

I will get revenge on you, Jay G.

And so Mr. Burns beat on,

fists against the hologram,

punching back ceaselessly
into his own face.

Which new name do you like better?

Next Doorables...

or the Lavender Zeppelin?

I just don't know anymore.

A customer!

Oh, it's you.

Baby, I'm sorry.

I stayed loyal to Mr. Burns,

coproduced a failed revenge rap,

and now we've got nothing.

I know it's crazy,
but he needed me.

Oh, it's okay, Homie.

You're not mad?

Your heart told you to stick
with Mr. Burns,

and the thing I love
about you most

is you've got a heart
as big as The Ritz.

Wow, Mom, you just made an F.
Scott Fitzgerald reference.

Lisa, please, I did
graduate high school.

I've just hatched a plan for
the most delicious revenge.

Simpson, we must away.

Did you want to buy that?

Just looking.

We can't afford the store anymore!

Oh, thank God.

Ha! I'm free!

Well, before long,
another aimless soul

will open another
adorable store here.

And when they do, Old
Sam the Sign Hanger

will be ready, with his
level and his ladder.

Oh, why, here comes one now.

Oh, honey, isn't it darling?

Huh?

We finally found the Bookmark Barn.

Oh, this is Wicker Works.

We're gonna sell so
many Yorkie sweaters.

We can use the contractor
that did Karen's store.

Mr. Burns' plan
was so horrifying,

I could barely shut up
and go along with it.

But I was the only friend
he had left in the world

and he was whipping me so hard.

Ow, ow!

Oh, Goosius.

Daddy's got your oatmeal.

Golden raisins, just the
way you like 'em, baby.

Goosey!

Where's my goose?

Why, he's right here.

Fancy a bite of roast Goosius?

You didn't!

Oh, I did.

Mmm. A trifle fatty,
but other than that,

excellent.

Damn, I didn't think you
had it in you, M.B.

Oh, man.

I don't want to live in a world

without the mascot of my
multinational empire.

Stop it!

I saved your life,
you stupid duck!

Simpson, I told you
to cook his goose.

I couldn't do it.

We just had our portrait done.

Then, what did I eat?

Roast goose from the gas station.

Fine, then I'll kill it myself.

The two rivals found
themselves doomed by the lusts

that drive all men... money, power,

and the pursuit of a goose.

Damn it, Monty, I don't want to die.

Well, if we have to end this way,

at least it's of natural causes.

A business deal gone wrong.

Tell me, Jay.

Why'd you betray me?

We were kindred souls.

Brothers in avarice.

Why? Because you told me to!

In your own last chapter.

"You will never be truly ruthless

until you destroy
the one who made you."

I had to tear you down, M.B.!

It was the final rung.

I just wanted to be ruthless,

like you.

That I inspired you to
such pure and evil greed,

that is my greatest triumph.

I am truly immortal.

We're about to die, fool.

Smithers, I ordered ice, not slush.

Sorry I'm late, sir.

A few of these French Canadian bikers

got delayed at the border.

Apparently, I'm their leader now.

Smithers, Smithers, Smithers!

Ow. That stings.

Oh, that one's nice.

How dare you.

Fascinating.

Excellent.

Mr. Burns realized

that his ruthless will to power

would beat on forever
in another man's heart.

Ah, I guess this summer's really over.

I'm gonna miss Goosius.

Thanks, boy.

Do you think Mr. Burns learned
anything from all this?

Could it have changed
him for the better?

You know what?

I have a feeling it did.

Attention.

For the sheer joy of it,

every day will now include a
moment of musical appreciation.

Yeah!

- sync and corrections by Mr.C -
- www.addic7ed.com -

Shh!