I wish for a turkey sandwich on rye bread with lettuce and mustard and and I don't want any zombie turkeys, I don't want to turn into a turkey myself, and I don't want any other weird surprises. You got it? ... Not bad. Nice hot mustard, good bread, the turkey's a little dry — The turkey's a little dry?! Oh, foul accursed thing! What demon from the depths of hell created thee?!
Springfield will have its first annual 'Do What You Feel Festival' this Saturday...whenever you feel like showing up. It'll be a welcome change from our annual 'Do As We Say Festival',started by German settlers in 1946.
Oh yeah, what are you gonna do? Release the dogs? Or the bees? Or the dogs with bees in their mouths and when they bark, they shoot bees at you?
Tonight on 'Eye on Springfield'...Just miles from your doorstep, hundreds of men are given weapons and trained to kill. The government calls it the Army, but a more alarmist name would be... The Killbot Factory.
I swear that, if I ever reveal the secrets of the Stonecutters, that my stomach shall become bloated, and my head plucked of all but three hairs. Um, I think he should have to take a different oath. Everybody takes the same oath!
"Sure the mayor takes a few bribes, but he also makes the trains run on time." "No he doesn't. Trains are regulated by the Federal Bureau of Transportation. And recent studies have shown that... uggh..."
Oh, sorry, folks. Gee, I really hate to spoil this little love-in, but Mr. Molloy broke the law. And when you break the law, you gotta go to jail. Uh, that reminds me, er, here's your monthly kickback. You just ... you couldn't have picked a worse time!
Boy, you don't have to follow in my footsteps. Don't worry. I don't even like using the bathroom after you. Why, you little—!
Hello. I am not interested in buying your house, but I would like to use your restroom, flip through your magazines, rearrange your carefully shelved items and handle your food products in an unsanitary manner. Ha! Now you know how it feels! Thank you, come again!
Why am I such a loser? Why? Well, your father was a loser, and his father, and his father — it's genetic, man! ... D'oh!