Why, that's a fabulous idea. Anything else you'd like? How about real lead in the radiation shields? Urinal cakes, maybe? [hands Smithers a notebook] Smithers, throw this at him. [Smithers throws the book at Charlie. Mr. Burns right hand reaches under his desk and presses a button. A tube covers Charlie and sucks him upwards] Smithers, where does that tube go?
Well we'll just see about that! [uncovers a cage hold several winged monkeys] Fly, my pretties! Fly! [the monkeys leap out of the window, only to plummet to their deaths] Oh...[to Smithers] Continue the research.
Yes well, I'm sure I left them in the car. [thinking] No one must know I dropped them in the toilet. Not I, the man who drafted the Paris Peace Accords.
Scott, things aren't as happy as they used to be down here at the Unemployment Office, joblessness is no longer just for philosophy majors... now at the risk of sounding unpopular, this reporter places the blame for all of this squarely on you [pointing at the camera] the viewers!
The only monster here is the gambling monster that has enslaved your mother. I call him Gamblor; and it's time to free your mother from his neon claws.
I don't wanna get a sore spot, but can we talk about herpes? Herpes, herpes, bo-berpes, banana fana fo-ferpes! Herpes, OH!! Hey! Y'know that spot on Gorbachev's head? Herpes, trust me! Anybody here have herpes? Huh? Huh? You people are the worst audience I've ever seen!
MIMan in Audience
Yeah, well you're the worse comedian WE'VE ever seen!
