Ow!
Oh, for the love of absolutely nothing, Toot.
Keep it down!
You're disturbing my customers!
Start the board meeting without me.
Oops.
Is my new Kawabashi Leaf Ninja set in show-off mode?
That's 500 CCs just champing at the bit.
Ow!
My black-market cochlear implant!
Now let me blow something else.
Your mind.
Ow! My black market LASIK surgery!
The youth hockey team that I sponsor and coach
won the championship this year.
Trophies are what they give to winners, when they win.
F. Y. I.
Okay, stuff like this is why Gayle left you.
No one knows why Gayle left me,
except for Gayle and my more-handsome brother.
But don't let my success get to you, Moe.
Remember, just because something good happens to me,
you're a giant loser.
Anyway, just something for you to stew on.
Right. Sure I am. Me, stew. No way.
Not stew, not me. No stew.
Hey, Stu.
Me, stew?
I ain't spending one second replaying my failures.
Like how I don't got no money, I got no education.
My mattress is a pallet of flyers
I was supposed to deliver.
How I was invited to five different dinners
for schmucks in one week.
I only got one lightbulb,
which I got to take from room to room.
How every sex cult I join turns into a suicide cult.
I'm a speck. No, I'm-I'm less than a speck.
I'm nothing but, uh... I'm a scuzz.
Moe, what gives?
You've been dwelling on your failures for ten months.
Why didn't you stop me?
'Cause then we'd have to touch your shoulder.
Soccer season is over.
The conquering participant returns.
Congratulations, sweetie.
I know how hard you strived to participate.
It wasn't easy, but I did the bare minimum.
Thanks for driving me to games every Saturday, Dad.
Well, I knew it wouldn't last forever.
And now, with soccer season over,
sitting season...
begins.
Homer, get up.
Bart's first junior hockey game is today.
But-but kids' sports was over!
It's great father-son bonding.
No. It's me driving while Bart looks at his phone.
Then it's Bart playing while I look at my phone.
Then me driving home while we both look at our phones.
That's what kids' sports is.
Can I have some money to bet on the games?
Okay, diapers.
I'm gonna tell you something
no coach ever had the heart to say to his players.
You are only here to fix my emotional problems.
Yeah!
We're 20 games away from me getting a trophy
and six payments away from me owning this whistle.
Now, you all know the game plan.
We suck except Bart, so give him the stupid puck
and then shut our stupid mouths, you stupid pukes.
Yeah, good job, uh, kid who ain't Bart.
Now let's go watch Bart do this!
Oh, you're so done, Toot.
Ow, ow, ow, ow, ouch...
Oops. My biggest guy took out your scorer.
Hey, feel free to retaliate with your biggest kid.
Hmm.
Put me in, Coach. I'll rip him limb from limb.
Let me at him.
The net ate my hockey cookie.
Wha...
Oh, thank heavens. An adult has arrived to help me.
No, no, no. I'm just here to observe.
Uh, how would you like to play hockey?
Haw-haw... key?
It's the most messed-up sport in the world.
It's like a prison riot but with less rules.
And you, you would play the best position of all...
the goon.
Goon...
Pretty word.
What it mean?
It's that sweet spot between a thug and an enforcer.
Anyone who comes near the best players on the team,
the goon turns their face into mustard.
You're exactly what my team needs.
Team? I don't do teams.
Sorry.
Not my pierogies!
My Oma makes them but once a week.
I got to deal with this.
Nah, I get it.
People look at scuzzes like us like we got the plague.
Which, when I did, it weren't even bubonic.
Our schedule, in case you change your mind, there.
Maybe we'll both find out
what it feels like to be winners.
Hmm. Hmm. Hmm. Hmm.
Full steam ahead, lads.
We make for the goal,
and damn their neutral zone trap.
Oh, another weekend murdered by kids' sports.
How come this is the only league in the world
without a labor dispute?
Unionize, cowards!
Yarr!
I'm getting killed out there!
So you get a little dinged up.
You ever seen the children's wing at the hospital?
They got murals on the walls. You'll love it.
Everywhere you look... rainbow, rainbow, rainbow.
The whole league knows all they have to do
is beat me up and they win.
Yeah, you're right, it's hopeless.
There ain't nobody who's gonna walk into this rink
and turn me into a winner.
No how, no when.
Did somebody order a psycho?
Oh.
Where do you want me, Crotch?
Uh, it-it's "coach." But just get out there.
Get out there and do your thing.
- We won! - We did it!
Oh, my gosh!
My life has meaning!
As I've been screaming for the last 15 minutes,
- all players must be wearing skates. - Oh, come on.
There's no way that that...
Oh, there it is.
Rule number one: "No cafeteria trays."
The Bar Flyers forfeit. The game is over.
Aw!
You said I'd get to win.
All I did was make everyone else a loser, too.
Loser? No, no, you-you were amazing out there.
- I was? - Kid, you are a natural born goon.
A real diamond in the urinal. All you need is some training.
And I'm gonna make sure that you learn from the best.
Welcome to Top Goon.
It's beautiful.
I'm gonna learn so hard, Moe.
- I won't let you down. - I know you won't, kid.
- What was that? - Oh, I just tousled your hair.
Ain't nobody ever done that before?
Uh..
Keep going.
Yeah, my arm's getting a little tired, here.
- That's your problem. - All right.
Welcome to Top Goon.
I'd like to introduce you to your faculty,
the most feared men to ever lace 'em up.
Dave "The Hammer" Schultz.
That's just a nickname.
My given name is David "The Hammer" Schultz.
Stu "The Grim Reaper" Grimson.
I look sane, but trust me, I'm not.
You'll see.
You'll all see.
And Tiger Williams.
Your instructor for Basic Pummeling
and, time permitting,
The American Novel: 1930 to the Present.
As a goon, you have one job on the ice:
protect your team's best scorer.
We call that person your "primary."
This is the most important person in your life.
Who's the best scorer on your team, Muntz?
- Bart Simpson. - Then Bart Simpson is your primary.
Don't forget it.
- Who do we protect? - Our primary.
And what do we do for our primary?
Protect them.
And who do we protect?
Our primary?
This kid's good.
Mm...
Aw...
Huh?
Hey, sorry I'm late.
I couldn't unlock the Maps app.
My phone don't recognize my face as a face.
I can't believe you came!
I wouldn't miss this for my own mother's funeral.
I made that choice and I'm good with it.
Hey, Moe. How's it going?
You know these guys?
I used to be the bartender in the penalty box
at the Philadelphia Spectrum.
My tip jar was full of teeth.
I got Phil Esposito's whole mouth somewheres.
Muntz, recite the goon code.
I am a goon. I protect my primary.
And... that's pretty much it.
Nelson Muntz, you've out-thugged every gorilla in your class.
You are... Top Goon!
I did... not bad?
Hey, you did more than that.
You did not horrible.
Now come on, I got a graduation present lined up for youse.
From up here, the wads look like ants.
Hey, you-you want to drop pickled eggs on them?
Sure!
Yeah, Duff lets me use their blimp
'cause I buy up all the beer that the employees drown in.
Pretty sweet for a couple of scuzzes.
Yeah, it's a big world down there, kid.
And when its back is turned,
you can steal anything you want from it.
Oh, that egg just hit a cop's horse.
Floor it, Jimmy! Floor it!
Great. I have to drive 50 miles
to spend my entire weekend freezing my ass off.
Stone-cold sober, sitting in seats with no backs,
making awkward conversation with dads who share way too much
about their marriages...
I told Sarah when we got married, "I am a foot guy."
Please guess the one part of the body
she just doesn't moisturize?
Seriously, guess. Guess!
- Please, just guess. - Oh...
Nelson, could I interest you in a little skate?
I could stretch my legs.
Bart's my primary. I protect my primary.
What happened here is a result of your actions.
Wow. Your kid's got real talent.
No-game recognize game, yo.
Shut up! Shut up, all of you! Don't you see?
There's nothing worse than your kid being
so amazing at something
you can't blow it off!
So, what's your old lady's
footwear situation at night?
Uh, socks?
No socks?
All right, all right, tomorrow is the finals.
Hockey's gonna be over!
- If we win, it's on to the regionals. - D'oh!
- Then states. - D'oh!
- Tri-states. - D'oh!
Quad-states, nationals, and then tri-nationals.
But first, we take on King Toots' team.
The same puck-nuts what humiliated us the last time.
But I know we're gonna win this game,
because we got our little hotshot MVP.
That's right, our Most Violent Puncher.
- Nelson Muntz. â€” Huh?
I score every goal on this team.
And who the hell is texting me?
"Estee Dionne Malip?"
Uh, does anybody know what this, uh,
"Estee Dionne Malip" is about?
Hey, I'm dealing with an Estee Dionne Malip?
Anybody? I don't even know who the hell I got this from.
I'm just gonna send it to my junk.
What? What is-what is funny about that?
Show some respect to Coach.
Why? His car is a converted washing machine
and his wallet is a rat trap.
Aah!
Simpson's dead.
Bart Simpson is your primary. Bart Simpson is your primary.
Oh, he is such a scuzz.
So am I.
You're not my primary. He is.
Ow!
Doc, is he gonna be all right?
Yes. But I'm afraid his travel hockey season is over.
What... what have you done? Bart was our only chance to win.
You were supposed to protect your primary!
I... I was.
Like hell you was. Why'd I ever believe in you?
Y-You're just a fist. Nothing more.
Get off of my team!
Don't look at me. I'm not crying!
I just feel like "hockey team" is still a smidge too big.
Do you have any smaller letters?
I'm no goon. I'm just a fist.
And this last stop in hell
is where I belong.
Afternoon there, ma'am.
Uh, I'm Moe Szysl...
Yeah, can you hurry it up?
I got to eat this when it's fresh off the zapper.
It's about your kid.
I was his hockey coach and I yelled some stuff
that might have kicked his heart in the plums.
Oh, so you're Coach Sizzle-slacks,
the guy he calls his primary.
What? Nelson thinks I'm his primary?
- You sure about this? - Yup.
He yelled the whole story at the window dog.
Nelson wasn't being a psycho towards Bart.
He was being a goon for me.
Do you know where he went?
He said something about walking the streets.
Coming to a fateful decision or whatnot.
Eh. Kid stuff.
I got to find him before he does something crazy.
Nelson Muntz.
Your reputation precedes you.
I hear you're a dingus to be respected.
I'm just a fist with no code.
Figure I'll be working for you sooner or later,
so why not get it over with?
I have a gift for smelling out good henchmen.
I'm getting hints of barely-suppressed rage
with top notes of "nothing matters" and...
a deep finish of abandonment by a male role model.
Smell all you want. It won't fix anything.
Just tell me who to hurt.
Want me to get him a lead pipe?
Let's start him out easy. PVC.
How you doing, son? Can you move?
A little, but it hurts.
I meant can you move off the couch.
I'm about to enjoy my first hockey-free weekend in months.
Ooh, hockey!
Homer, get up. You and Bart are gonna be late.
What? He's useless. Doc said so.
He can't play any sport that I have to drive him to.
He has physical therapy, and the only place
that takes our insurance is three hours away.
If they ask, Bart is a veteran.
Oh...
Mr. Mayor, I believe you know the founder
of this vaguely-purposed yet tax-exempt charity,
my goomar.
Mistresses are the lifeblood of our community.
Private event. No pictures.
Well done, Nelly No-Sleeves.
If you'll excuse me,
my men and I have some perfectly innocent business
to attend to in the back room.
God bless back rooms.
You know why you're here.
You borrow money from me, I expect to be repaid.
Time to make your bones.
Lead.
This is all I am.
Stop!
Nelson, listen to me before you done did something
you can't done undid.
Whoever's under that hood don't deserve this.
- They're a human being. - Moe!
Aw, thank you, old buddy.
Oh, not youse!
You got to help me out.
I only borrowed money from the mafia
to buy fake birth certificates for teenagers
so they could play ten-and-under hockey.
No one deserves a Kansas City knee job more than this guy,
but that don't matter none.
You swing that pipe, that's your soul on the line.
You're wasting your time, "Coach."
You said it yourself: I'm just a fist.
I know, and that's how I saw youse at first.
As a weapon.
I was using you,
because I was obsessed with beating King Toot here.
I knew it. I'm in your head, bro.
Feed him his own mustache! No, wait. Don't, don't.
Listen to me. You're a great kid.
You're determined, selfless, a real teammate...
And you did for me what I failed to do for you.
You had my back, scuzz to scuzz.
Aw.
I don't know.
Sometimes, boss, I think you only see me as a knife.
Did you know I got dreams?
I want to open a gourmet mac and cheese place
called Louie's Gooey.
And I'm learning Swedish on a phone app.
But I'm just a gun to you.
Gentlemen, I don't see you as weapons.
Freaking millennials.
Hockey's over, but maybe we could still do stuff.
You know, like throw turtles at birds?
Any time you want, kid.
But whatever we do, from now on,
let's leave the violence behind, uh?
Aah!
Ah. There you go, kid.
- You earned that. - No, I haven't.
And that's what makes it all the sweeter.
Slower...
slower... great.
Okay, do another hundred, each one way less fast.
- Oh... - Now, with three sessions a week...
- Oh... - for the next four months...
Oh!
we can have you ready just in time
for the start of baseball season.
D'oh.
Shh!
- synced and corrected by sot26 - www.addic7ed.com