Gotta look good today. I'm asking Amy to the prom.
I meant school Amy, not you, Amy.
Okay. Just act cool.
Hey, Amy, you promming?
Ohh! So, Amy, some of your hair got caught in your locker and I took it.
No, no. God, no!
Andrew, there's someone to see you!
- You've been served, starter-stache. - What is this, Dad?
That's a subpoena. You've been called as a surprise witness in court today.
I can't go to court.
I spent all my after-school job money on a skywriting prom-posal.
Testifying in court is a matter of duty and honor.
Besides, everyone knows Amy's going to the prom with Josh.
Mr. Teen, isn't it true that while working as an employee of Builder's Barn,
you rented a backhoe to this man,
- Homer J. Simpson? - Yes.
And what reason did Mr. Simpson give for renting the machine?
To quote, "Dig a bitching swimming pool in his backyard,
then throw an awesome pool party and not invite Flanders."
But in the process of digging the pool,
Mr. Simpson destroyed local gas, sewer, and power lines,
causing rolling blackouts that affect Springfield to this... day.
This man is so obviously incompetent
that he never should have been allowed to rent a backhoe,
and that is why Mr. Simpson is suing Builder's Barn.
He's suing us?
Your Honor, I'd like to take over the questioning, if I may.
Mr. Simpson, only a fool has himself for a lawyer.
That's exactly my point, sir.
When Mr. Simpson, that is myself, rented the heavy machinery in question,
isn't it true that my breath smelled strongly of beer, as it does now?
I don't know what beer smells like.
I was going to have my first one ever at the after-prom party.
Homer can't even unfold a lawn chair.
I don't think he understands doors.
He's fat and lazy and carries diner jelly packs in his shirt pocket.
That's irrelevant and prejudicial.
Let her speak!
Has the jury reached a verdict?
Yes, we're very disappointed.
This turned out to be a real trial and not a hidden camera comedy reality show.
Also, we have no choice but to find for the plaintiff.
- D'oh! - You're the plaintiff.
- Woo-hoo!
I've spent 25 years fighting for Lady Justice.
Today I learned she's nothing but a painted tart,
and I run the flophouse where she turns tricks.
I award Mr. Simpson the minimum possible damages: $95.
Yes! Come on, everybody, jury wave.
No alternates!
Kids, look what Daddy bought with his settlement money.
Floaty noodles and pool balls?
We don't have a pool, Homer. We have a hole.
Which you can't fix
because the judge banned you from renting any Class A excavating equipment.
It's now on the permanent court record that I married a buffoon.
It was stipulated by all parties.
On the plus side, Homer now has an entry on Wiccapedia.
"Homer J. Simpson is the first American citizen,
to become a court-certified idiot"!
Oh...
Wow, and it's not just a stub. The admin really put some time into it.
Is this what you want your legacy on this planet to be?
It's not just this. I got other stuff.
Like, I fell into wet cement in front of the church
and left a very recognizable ass print.
- Mind the print. - Ah!
- Mind the ass print. It's a big one. - Oh!
And, uh, well, uh, there's... ooh, I know.
My legacy can be Lisa.
She's my legacy.
Oh, I called dibs on Lisa in the delivery room. I saw her first.
Legacy.
Who are you? Where am I?
We're in the wonderful future,
and I'm your guide, travel host and author, Rick Steves.
Every Sunday night, Lisa puts me on TV, and you fall asleep.
That's why you're sleeping right now.
There's no better place for a perfect gratin dauphinois
than on a train to Montrachet.
Someday, Rick. Someday.
These statues honor the legacies of the many people
who made a difference in Springfield.
Sleep sleeping?
Legacy! Where's my statue?
You don't have one,
because you've never done anything worth remembering.
I bet Lenny doesn't have a legacy statue.
Look what we're standing on right now.
D'oh!
Lenny invented invisible suspenders.
- Guess what's holding up my pants?
The point is they're all remembered, and you aren't.
Now let me ask you something else. Have you donated to PBS this year?
Never!
Dumb. Stupid. Dumb.
Abe, can you talk to him?
He's been at the bottom of that hole for hours.
I've been feeding him like a dolphin.
So what's got you sitting in a hole this time, Son?
No legacy.
The nearest the Simpsons ever came to a legacy
was when my uncle had a soup named after him at the chowder hall.
A lot of people got sick from Stan's soup,
so stop your ninny-whimpling and get out of this hole.
Hey, you ruined my roundsie.
I ruin-sied your round-what?
When the ball goes all the way round the walls, I call it a "roundsie."
See? Roundsie.
That's the dumbest thing I've ever seen!
Let me try.
- Ooh!
Whoa!
Son, I never played catch with you or tossed you a football,
or taught you how to ride a bike.
I hate you, you monster!
But now we have this.
Yeah, you're all right.
Noodles, balls? What do you call this wonderful game?
I don't know, but it's gonna be something really clever.
We call it "Noodleball."
It's exercise without movement. It's safe for your brittle bones.
And you don't have to face the thing all us seniors fear about pools,
trying to peel off a wet bathing suit.
- I'll try that. - Give me one of those noodles.
By golly, I'm going in the pool.
Dad, maybe Noodleball is what will make the Simpson name live forever.
A legacy that we created together.
I'll jelly to that.
Springfield's golden agers
are lining up to go six feet under in empty swimming pools.
So, how does this piscine pastime work?
If you hit the ball past your opponents and it bounces back to you,
that's a roundsie, one point.
Your opponents are trying to block the roundsie
and hit it back to score their own point.
Play until three balls get knocked out of the pool,
and then everyone can check their phone for ten minutes.
So dive on into Noodleball
and drown the dog days of summer in the deep end of fun.
Speaking of dogs, let's meet the spaniel who's predicted every Super Bowl wrong.
- A perfect roundsie!
We win again!
Since you've been playing Noodleball, your weight gain has plateaued!
If you keep this up, you can not gain 50 pounds.
Dad, look what just came up on Wiccapedia.
Hmm!
The world is noticing the Simpsons, in a good way.
Look at these seniors, playing like there is a tomorrow.
Dad, Grampa, we have a problem at the south pool.
Oh, another old person three-way? Just hose 'em out of there.
Worse!
Out of the pool, noodleheads. It's summer, and the kids wanna swim.
Go jump in the lake, water baby. You're in Noodleball country.
Even the very tall need a place to swim.
And our children need to cool off in the hot summer.
Won't everyone please not think about the children?
Don't worry. There's other pools in this town.
Hey, we were here first.
Talk to the tag.
Vape 'em out.
It's cotton candy bubble gum. Don't breathe it in.
We're losing pools all over town.
What if we try to take over some pickleball courts?
No, those Wiffle ball whackers are psycho.
They killed tennis without even breaking a sweat.
Dad, there's a new section on your Wiccapedia page. "Controversies."
- There's a petition to ban Noodleball,
which has antagonized swimmers, scuba practicers,
and frat house cannonballers.
Oh, that's all the thought leaders.
We can't let Noodleball end up a failed sport like racquetball or soccer.
Our father-son legacy is in danger. We gotta do something.
Think! Think!
Hit harder.
Homer, Abe, there's someone here who wants to see you.
I let him in because he's wearing a suit.
Gentlemen, I'm Gabriel Razelton.
People call me The Raz, but you shouldn't because I hate it.
I represent a consortium of companies
that can help Noodleball not only survive but thrive.
What consortium?
I can tell you, or I can show you.
Uh... give us a minute.
- What do you think? I'm all for show. - No, I think we should do tell.
- Let him show it, and if we like it... - No, I prefer telling.
- All right, all right. - So let's go with that one.
Okay, we want you to tell us.
No, you idiot, we decided show!
Just give us one more huddle.
Show! It was always show!
The avocado, or as some call it, the alligator pear.
Simple, natural, a little nutty, just like Noodleball.
Aveecado? Never heard of it.
The only green thing I eat is Marge's Mountain Dew pudding.
Um... Oh. That glop's easy on the gums.
It is pretty creamy. Are you sure it isn't lard?
Absolutely.
You can see why we at the Organic Pit-based Enjoyment Council
think that avocados are the perfect sponsor for Noodleball.
Can you get us our pools back?
Oh, I can do better than that.
I give you the future of Noodleball.
This is the Avo-1 Noodleplex,
featuring eight state-of-the-art, empty, never-swum-in pools.
Now, I hope you don't mind,
but we've put a statue of you and Grampa right at the entrance.
We'll be remembered forever, like that dude in the Lincoln Memorial.
We've got plans for all kinds of avocado tie-ins.
Oils, face masks, hair conditioners.
Big A isn't just guac and chips.
Is this guy always so funny?
I don't know.
So, can we make this deal happen and raise an avocado toast?
Son, we've created a sport that will live forever.
Now, Grampa, we've got a PR guy just down the hall
who wants to hear the story of your life.
- Mmm.
When I was a boy, you kissed any horse that walked by,
and that's how I acquired my taste for hay.
Homer, I've always been honest with you, right?
Right.
Wrong. I lied when I said Noodleball was for everyone.
No one's going to pay to watch
ancient athletes break their hips and have heart attacks.
Our vision of Noodleball is for a younger demographic.
You want to make Noodleball only for twentysomethings?
Oh, God, no. They don't have any money!
I'm talking 40- to 60-year-olds, the last generation that can afford houses.
We have to scrub out every trace
of your father and his gang of shuffling catheters,
or Noodleball's future is blacker than a recently opened avocado.
I can't dump Grampa. He's my father. We're like brothers.
Ohh!
I'm sorry, but my dad and I created Noodleball together.
You're a man of rare integrity,
- but I accept your decision. - I'll do it! The old man's out.
Homer, Marge, welcome to the first Noodleball celebrity tournament.
Pretty fantastic, huh?
It's a very impressive tent.
Whoever ironed it knew what they were doing.
Avocado oil Bellini?
Get that crap out of my face!
Now come. I want you to meet some of the amazing youth-adjacent athletes
who are competing today.
Blake Griffin.
Noodleball is the perfect game for retired players
whose bodies have been permanently destroyed by the sport they love,
which is all of us.
Ow! My spinning finger.
It was supposed to be fixed after my third Meadowlark Lemon surgery.
Homer Simpson, of course you know Megan Rapinoe.
I bet Lisa knows who you are.
Lisa Simpson? I love her Substack.
If you're her dad, this explains so much.
Thank you, Megan Rapinoe.
Our targeted marketing to forty- and fifty-somethings is really paying off.
My whole life I've worshiped the false god of tucking in.
Step-in shoes! Ah. I'll never lower my arms below my knees again.
This is so amazing.
I just feel bad that Grampa and the other old folks can't be a part of all this.
Yeah, that's kind of a sensitive subject.
You did tell him, right?
You know, hard conversations like this, it's all about picking the right moment.
- Oh, Homer. - Darling.
- Homer! - My beloved.
Are you waiting for your father to die
so you won't have to tell him you totally screwed him over?
- Little bit. - Oh!
That alligator pear-pushing parasite gave me the heave-ho.
Doesn't he know we're a team? We invented this together.
Oh, great. Now your memory's good.
This was the only way to save Noodleball. At least one of us can have a legacy.
And you betrayed me for that?
Guess what? Legacy don't mean squat!
Squat? Justify yourself!
Who cares what people think after you're gone?
You ain't there to get the credit, if they remember you at all.
- Do you know who Johnny Carson was? - Nope.
- David Letterman? - Nuh-uh.
Jimmy Fallon?
Now you're just making up names.
Don't you see? You sold me out for a few extra words in your obituary.
What's an obituary?
It's where they summarize your whole life in one sentence.
Mine's gonna read, "He was stabbed in the back by his son"!
A real father would support his son's terrible, heartless decision!
Dad, someday can I screw you out of something we create together?
You do, and I'll destroy you.
How could making a deal with avocados be a bad thing? It's a good fat.
Well, growing avocados does use a lot of water.
Over nine and a half billion liters per day.
What's that in swimming pools?
- 3,800.
And the transport of avocado products endangers wildlife everywhere.
Mmm.
Avocado oil is just using Noodleball to cover up the bad stuff they do.
You know, the way Middle East oil spent billions to create LIV Golf.
LIV Golf can't be bad. I bleed Mickelson's Maniacs blue.
And now avocado oil is playing the same slippery game.
No. No, I won't believe it.
Not the Organic Pit-based Enjoyment Council!
You mean OPEC?
Uh, "Pit-based" is kind of a cheat, but I get it.
I sold out my dad for avocado. Oil, that is, green gold, Tex-Mex tea.
I demand to play in the tournament!
Of course you can. You're on the cover of Avocado Aficionado.
Oh, yeah. One went up my butt.
Your partner, NFL legend Andrew Luck, is waiting for you.
Join me, Homer. I need a new sport.
My wife keeps telling me to stop moving furniture around and get out of the house.
Andrew, if I played with you, I'd secure my Noodleball legacy forever.
But at the terrible price of supporting big avocado.
So there's another retiree who I'm teaming up with.
My father.
We created Noodleball to keep all people mobile and healthy.
We're taking our sport back, legacy be damned!
And my son and I challenge your best team.
Do you and this walking wrinkle bag
really expect to beat Blake Griffin and Megan Rapinoe?
We're playing now? I just had three avocado Bellinis.
What is it with you and Bellinis?
They loosen me up, Megan.
Thanks for bringing me back, Son.
Dad, we never played catch or tossed a football,
but we have this.
You're right, Son, and that's why we're gonna win.
We are this safe, low-impact game.
- Oh! Ow! My hip!
- Oh, my heart!
Noodleball is no more.
In its league premiere,
founder Homer Simpson and his father suffered gruesome career-ending injuries,
ruining Noodleball's professional debut and sending avocado futures plummeting.
- Oh, my sport is dead
and the only guy who showed up to sign my cast is Andrew Luck.
Ooh, I get the whole space.
Mm-hmm.
Cheer up, Homer. Retirement is wonderful.
You'll have so much more time to spend on your charities and with your family.
Oh, I want a second opinion from Peyton Manning.
I'm proud of you, Homie.
You stuck by your dad and rejected big avocado.
Although if it comes in a salad, I'm not sending it back.
I love it on a burger.
Or just spooned right out of the skin.
If we'd just swam in those pools,
none of this bad stuff would've happened.
Oh, but the water's so chilly when you first go in.
Nothing good came out of this.
This is that backhoe-renting weirdo's house, Amy.
Oh, Andrew, you were so brave to testify against him. Mm-mmm.
Oh, my!
Official rules of Noodleball. Section 29.
If a dog steals your pool ball, you're allowed to steal its ball.
All players must count up their meds,
and the one with the most pills serves first.
The pool noodle may be blown through but not yelled through.
In between points, a maximum of three pictures of grandkids may be shown.
Four, if the kids are costumed or in a school play.
If a player's pool noodle comes untied,
that player must call "Flopper," and the play is suspended
until the laughter subsides.
If the pool being played in has a separate hot tub... nice.
Shh!