[Homer gets out of his car, whistling, arrives home, Marge furiously opens a door, Homer gasps]
[holding up a picture of Homer and Princess Kashmir] What is the meaning of this?!
Meaningless, Marge. Don't even attempt to find meaning in it. There's nothing between me and Princess Kashmir.
Princess who?!
[walks by] Hey, my photo!
Your photo?!
Uh-oh.
Why you little- [about to choke Bart]
Why you big- [chokes Homer] Bart, go to your room!
I'm outta here. [leaves]
Look, Marge, honey, baby, doll, I-
Homer, I don't even want to look at you right now.
What are you saying, honey? But where will I sleep?
My suggestion...is for you to sleep in the filth you created!
Would a motel be okay? [Marge slams the door in Homer's face. Sadly, he walks away from his house and heads for his car. Marge opens the house door] Oh, I knew you'd come to your-
[throws a suitcase at Homer] Here. If you have any soul left, you'll need these. I know I will. [closes the door as she goes back inside]
[Homer sitting in tears in the front of his house]
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