Since the beginning of time, man has yearned to destroy the sun. I will do the next best thing: block it out.
[He presses yet another button, raising a shield over the model town which blots out the sunlight]
[horrified] Good God!
Imagine it, Smithers: electrical lights and heaters running all day long.
But sir, every plant and tree will die. Owls will deafen us with incessant hooting. The town's sundial will be useless. I don't want any part of this project, it's unconscionably fiendish.
[gasps] I will not suffer this insubordination. There has been a shocking decline in the quantity and quality of your toadying, Waylon - and you will fall into line. Now!
...No. No Monty, I won't. Not until you step back from the brink of insanity.
I'll do no such thing! You're fired!
[Smithers leaves, dejected. Mr. Burns laughs evilly to himself and stomps through the scale model of the town like a giant monster.]
Take that, Bowl-A-Rama! Take that, convenience mart! Take that, Nuclear Power Pl... Oh, fiddlesticks.
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