Marge, since I'm not talking to Lisa, would you please ask her to pass me the syrup?
[sighs] Please pass your father the syrup, Lisa.
Bart, tell Dad I'll only pass the syrup if it won't be used on any meat product.
You dunkin' your sausages in that syrup, homeboy?
Marge, tell Bart I just want to drink a nice glass of syrup like I do every morning.
Tell him yourself, you're ignoring Lisa, not Bart.
Bart, thank your mother for pointing that out.
Homer, you're not-not talking to me and secondly I heard what you said.
Lisa, tell your mother to get off my case.
Uh, Dad, Lisa's the one you're not talking to.
Bart, go to your room!
Why don't you just eat him, Dad?
[turns red in anger and gets frustrated] I don't need any serving suggestions from you! You barbecue-wrecking, know-nothing know-it-all!
[enraged] THAT'S IT! I CAN'T LIVE IN A HOUSE WITH THIS PREHISTORIC CARNIVORE. I AM OUT OF HERE!
[Lisa furiously leaves the house and angrily slams the door]
THAT'S IT! GO TO YOUR ROOM!
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