D'oh!
It's today.
It's today!
- What day is it? - Saturday.
It's today!
Whoopie.
Move over Los Angeles and Philadelphia.
It's Springfield's turn to have its drunken sports fans
climb streetlights and burn down the town.
That's right, finally, after years of phantom fouls
and butt fumbles,
one of our beloved local sports teams, the "Pin Pals,"
have made it to the state championship.
With Springfield's years of failure at sports, the arts,
and our disastrous toddler boxing tournament,
it's no exaggeration to say that our "Super Bowlers" are
garnering tremendous pin-terest.
Finally, strikes I can support.
Mayor, you've been accused of being
a fair-weather fan for this team.
Not true.
I am a dyed-in-the-wool fan of these...
Bowlers.
Bowlers? Really?
People still do that?
So you don't mind that they say you're jumping on the bandwagon?
Let me just say, no one jumps later or harder than I.
To the Pin Heads, eh... Pin Pals.
And now, your heroes, the Pin Pals.
How you doing?
Marry me!
Oh, yeah. Sure, sure.
Anyhoo, I could never have made it
without my very good friends, Homer, Carl, Flanders,
and that new guy from Portugal whose, uh, name I forget.
Yi-yo-yu!
He don't speak the good English or nothing,
but he sure as hell can roll strikes.
And he's got a very hot sister, or girlfriend, or mother...
It's really hard to tell.
Eu te amo.
All right. Based on my experience,
that is not his mother.
Uh, I just want to say, we aren't just doing this for us.
It is going to mean the world to this entire town.
Excuse me, but I don't see
how the town possibly benefits from this.
We'd be helped a lot more
by a traffic light on Elm Street.
Smack him with his bone! Smack him good!
Uh, my friends and neighbors...
Reluctant neighbors.
I'd just like us to, uh, bow our heads,
- and thank... - Stupid Flanders.
Turns everything good into church.
Just once, can you not mention God?
All righty, then, let me just s-say way to go,
Big Guy in the Sky.
And his son, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Jesus is God's rod.
Blasphemy.
And now, O captain, my captain, Homer Simpson.
There's one word that defines this team.
And that word isn't "can" or "might."
That word is, uh, wait a minute.
Cards out of order...
Can't read my own writing here.
Oh, okay, it's "will."
Yes, we will!
Let's go Pin Pals.
Win that title.
Win that title!
- Let's get pickles. - Let's get pickles.
All right folks, break it up.
Unless you're jerkin' a gherkin, go on home.
Oh, Homie. Today was magnificent.
I always thought bowling was just an excuse
to get away from the kids and drink a lot of beer.
What? No. Never. What?
But now it's made the whole town proud of you.
And I'm part of the town,
so this comes from the heart.
Ugh, I can't say it. I don't want to say it.
You can't make me say it, and I won't say it.
Or even think it!
Aw, thank you, son.
I love you all. Water my plants.
You don't have any plants.
Then we're good. Bye.
Ain't this the life?
Whirly birding,
full can of soda, two bags of peanuts.
I've never known such luxury.
I could die right now a happy man.
This is your captain speaking.
Please buckle up as we attempt to clear
the treacherous mountain peak.
Wha...?
No worries. Every chopper in town takes this route.
Overweight? How is that possible?
Pilot, five passengers, five 14-pound balls...
Uh, I wanted a little extra oomph,
so I actually brought a 16-pound ball.
Me, too. By which I mean I brought two 16-pound balls.
Anyone else want to brag about their balls?
I mean, seriously?
Fausto bring this. For good luck.
Yi-yo-yu!
I'm gonna have to put her down on the mountain.
Of all the times to be sober.
This could be it.
At least I can say goodbye.
- Hello? - Marge...
We're not home now, so please don't rob us.
Leave a message.
Listen, Marge, we've had our arguments,
we've had our things, but thank God I have the time
to tell you how I really feel...
- Mailbox full. - D'oh!
Whee! Ah!
As your captain, one thing is clear:
we must get off this mountain.
And I'm no expert on mountains,
but I say down is this way.
D'oh!
What the...?
I wouldn't leave just yet, Homer.
Our new friend there still hasn't woken up.
Oh, God! Spanish-what's-his-name.
It's Portuguese-what's-his-name, you idiot.
Chief?
- Is there any word? - 'Fraid not.
Apparently they knocked out a cell phone tower
on the way down.
Wait, wait! Uh, now we're getting somewhere.
- Yeah.
Oh, thank God, man. I was starting to lose all hope.
Oh, you hungry cops
put-a my kids through college.
Seven-a sisters. Not the women's colleges.
I have-a seven daughters:
Gia, Mia, Pia, Tia, Zia,
Iphigenia, and then Emily, for some reason.
I don't know.
Hmm, still barely breathing.
If the Lord could carry His cross,
I can carry this poor soul.
Huh? Well, look at that.
Flanders risking his own life to save another.
Wow.
Homer, could you get my water bottle?
No.
A phone! Someone's got cell service.
Hello, Moe speaking.
Hi, I'm looking for a Mr. Simpson.
First name, Homer.
Oh, I recognize that voice.
You ever call me again, you little puke,
I'm gonna cut you up, use your intestines as violin strings,
and play "Flight of the Bumblebee!"
I'm gonna go Rimsky-Korsakov on yas.
I'm just trying to find my dad.
Yeah, right. Try looking in hell, hell boy!
Ay caramba!
Moe, you idiot!
You were the only one with cellular service.
What have I done? Me and my anger issues.
Dr. Rubenstein's gonna be so disappointed.
Stupid avalanche.
No connection.
And it's almost night.
I feel so much regret.
I never got the chance to tell my son I loved him.
Never? You're 87 years old.
Uh, it was on my "to do" list.
Take a look.
See?
Still no sign of the missing bowlers.
And one thing I must say now,
there is nothing a newscaster loves better
than missing people,
be they on a mountain, in a submarine,
or, preferably, deep under rubble.
Even if we know they're dead,
we'll keep it quiet for a few days,
just to keep the ratings up.
And now, tonight's lotto, which no one ever wins.
No...!
Why am I talking like this?
I'm not falling, just clinging to the edge!
Oh, man, that was close. How deep is that thing, anyway?
Only one way to find out.
Gentlemen, I fear we're starting to hallucinate.
That's crazy talk.
Barney, pick up the spare.
Listen to me. Time to get your cuckoos back in your clocks.
We're approaching the point of no return.
Flanders, h-how do I put this?
I was thinking I might want to...
oh, this is so embarrassing...
pray.
There are no atheists in foxholes.
Oh, yes. Foxes are very religious.
I'd be praying if a bunch of guys in red vests on horses
were trying to kill me.
Now, make with the Our Father.
Still no word on the Springfield team.
Please observe an anticipatory 60-second moment of silence.
Wasn't me.
Strike.
My friends, if we just have faith in the good Lord
who blew us to bits on the side of the mountain,
we'll be okay.
Hey, Churchy Joe, tell that to my piggies!
The word "frostbite" sounds so cutesy
when people get it at Buffalo Bills games,
but when it happens to you, ugh!
Well, I think things will be just fine.
Really? And who made you Optimist Prime?
I broke open my first aid kit.
Anybody else holding out on anything?
Like me with these two bags of peanuts,
which I'm going to eat right now despite my peanut allergy.
See this? This is the face of a survivor.
Uh, Christmas decorations?
Uh, in October?
We've done everything we can to help your father, so...
I thought this would help us feel better.
Bart, they say a kid is only as happy
as their saddest parent.
Zoom in on the heartbroken family.
Zoom, I say!
No. I can't.
I didn't go to journalism school to be a ghoul.
I went because it was an easy major.
Take your soul and get the hell out of local news.
Fausto... not good.
My friend, we will get you back
and then you and I will have a grand old time.
I hear you silently agreeing.
We'll go fishing and make s'mores
and we'll be best friends.
You're a Catholic and I'm a Christian,
but we'll work through that.
Ooh, more silent agreement.
Here, my friend, let me... let me set you down
so we can talk about our great future.
Save your breath, pal. He's dead.
No! No, he's not dead. H-He's just resting.
Oh, Lord, you can't be this cruel.
Sorry, man. I knew he was a goner a while ago,
but I liked watching you carry him.
We were gonna make s'mores.
Now there'll just be s'nothing.
Poor Fausto. Poor Flanders.
You really tried, man.
Oh, I mean it.
I'm not just hugging you because you're warm,
although that's a big part of it.
You're a good man.
Homer, I knew you had a heart.
Just like the Cowardly Lion.
He always had a heart. What he lacked was courage.
And the Scarecrow lacked straw, right?
No, he was nothing but straw.
Wow. I'm looking at everything with new eyes.
Just like the Tin Man.
That's not what the Tin Man...
Look, just give me another hug.
All right, gentlemen, there's a subject we need to discuss.
Now we've waited long enough, I'm just going to say it:
It is time that we resorted to cannibalism.
Mmm.
What? No. Absolutely not.
I'm not saying we eat him.
I'm saying we prepare him to be eaten.
If he gets frozen, we'll just end up with junk food,
like his hair or his toenails.
What?
Stop! Stop! Stop!
Bawk! Bawk! Bawk!
Just gimme a wing. Come on. You got two, come on!
No eating people.
If I eat these, and don't share them...
it breaks every value I have.
But just thinking about it also means I've sinned. Hmm.
I must say, it's a lot easier to have this debate
with my mouth full of matzah.
Flanders?
- Yes? - It's so clear to me now.
You're the better man, Ned.
Well, that's not true.
You've got the highest average on the team.
I'm nothing compared to you.
Have you noticed I haven't called you "stupid Flanders"
once on this mountain?
What do you want, a Nobel Peace Prize?
Sorry, sorry, I really do appreciate it.
It's just that I've come to realize
I'm not a natural leader, like you.
The Lord has a time and a place for everyone, my friend.
Homer, if the high altitude
hasn't turned your brain to mulch,
would you like to lead us in prayer?
Heavenly father, who art in truck stop.
Ping-pong. Rock. Zipper. Jambalaya.
Now, don't worry.
Just 'cause one of us has a tickle in his whistle
doesn't mean...
We're in the tenth frame, people.
If you want me to eat youse later, just say nothing.
Chief, any news?
About what? Oh, right.
Um, Marge, with conditions
as bad as they are on that mountain,
even if they somehow did survive the crash, uh,
oh, how can I put this gently?
What do you mean, "gently"?
You basically told me they're dead!
Will you please leave my family be?
Never easy being a cop.
Then why did you become one?
'Cause I look great in blue. It goes with my eyes.
Your eyes are black.
Well, I've wasted my life.
Patty and Selma?
Oh, this day couldn't get any worse.
Is what my dad would say if he were alive.
Marge, dear, at a time like this,
all we want to do is sit and hold your hand.
No talk. Just love.
I did want to say one thing:
"Better get your booty shorts to the cleaners
"because you're gonna be the most popular widow
on the pickleball circuit."
He's not dead!
Well, we can't be sure...
But we did use generative AI
to make an image of Homer as a corpse.
To get you used to the idea, dear.
Some of these we had even before the crash.
He's not dead. He's not dead!
In fact, I bet he's even going to save the day.
Can you excuse us?
We need to go outside and laugh.
Oh, is this it?
My story ends now?
Buried in the snow, frozen alone like broccoli in my freezer?
My dear son, are you ready to join me?
I am, Mommy. Take me to the good place.
Um... That's not exactly where I am.
They are very hard on former left-wing radicals
in the afterlife.
What are you saying?
I'm in a place with a lot of incredible people.
Machiavelli, Che Guevara,
Casanova.
Casanova. Oh, Casanova.
I thought dying in 1798 would keep me from being MeToo'd.
Um... Um...
Mom? What are you making?
All of your father's favorites. For when he comes back.
Pork chops, glazed ham,
fried hooves, snout surprise.
Oh, I can't be in the same room with that smell.
Yeah, it's pretty disgusting.
Hey, someone's cooking.
Marge is cooking!
I can't die here.
My family needs me.
My story is still being written.
And the next word in it is yeeargh!
You're coming too, friends.
Hidilly doodily, Saviorino!
For once, Flanders, you owe me.
Homer Simpson. Hmm, what can I say?
He slept through Mass. He'd floss with a Bible ribbon.
I'm afraid he leaves behind no good deed to remember him by.
Just another fat pinball slipping past God's flippers.
Here's something the church never heard of:
A guy coming back from the dead!
God bless him.
My bald, beautiful boy.
No good deeds, Reverend?
I've got a new end for your eulogy:
Thank God for Homer Simpson!
That's my dad. Suck it, other dads.
You miss two birthdays and a school play
and suddenly you're the bad guy.
I knew you'd make it back.
I knew it. I knew it.
You were wrong. You were wrong!
And you were wrong, preacher man.
Just premature.
I knew he'd make it. Since five seconds ago.
Simpson, I always knew you had it in you.
That'll do, Flanders. That'll do.
Aww.
I'm alive! I'm alive! I'm alive!
Well, you don't have to make a meal out of it.
Yi-yo-yu!
Shh.
- synced and corrected by sot26 - www.addic7ed.com