CHORUS SINGS: ♪ The Simpsons ♪
(grunts)
(school bell ringing)
(belches)
(whistle blows)
(yells)
(beeping)
(playing the blues)
Meh.
Ooh.
(gunfire)
(tires screeching)
(horn honking, Grampa shouts)
D'oh!
(tires screeching)
(grunts)
(stately music plays)
ALL: Mmm.
(chomping and slurping)
Dad, how can you call it a ski weekend
if we're going home at dawn on Sunday?
Got to leave early to beat the traffic.
Now, to get on Route 205,
and it's a straight shot home.
(chuckles)
HOMER: Oh, for crying out...!
(grunting angrily)
I hate traffic-- the band and the phenomenon.
Well, there's only one game
we can play in the car over and over
and over again: Bonk It.
Oh, I'm sorry, kids.
We lost the batteries for that.
(chuckling)
No problem. A couple just rolled out
-from behind your seat. -(groans)
COMPUTERIZED VOICE: Bonk it. Twist it.
Smack it. Thwack it.
Whack it. Bonk it. Bop it.
-Thwack it. Twist it. Bop it. -(Marge and Homer sigh)
Smack it. Whack it.
Thwack it. Bonk it.
Twist it. Smack it.
Bonk it. Twist it. Smack it.
Thwack it. Whack it. Bonk it. Twist it. Smack it.
Thwack it. Whack it. Bonk it.
Twist it. Smack it.
Thwack it. Whack it. Bonk it.
I can't take it anymore!
Whack it. Thwack...
Bonk it. Twist it.
I can't take it anymore!
-(gasps) -(gasps)
Bonk it. Twist it. Smack it.
-Bonk it. Whack it. Twist it. -D'oh!
(slowed down): Twist it.
Smack it.
Oh, darn.
The batteries are dead.
Not to worry-- it plugs
into the cigarette lighter.
Bonk-bonk-bonk it. Twist it. Smack it. Thwack it.
Whack it. Bonk it. Bop it.
Hey, kids, it's Daddy's turn.
Bonk it. Bop it. Twist it.
Smack it. Thwack it. Whack it.
Stomp it! Crush it! Kill it!
(slowed down): Bonk it.
Bonk... it.
Finally, some peace and quiet.
(horn honks, Marge gasps)
(stammering)
Oh, why do my actions have consequences?
(grunting)
(tires screeching)
(screaming)
(thud)
(creaking)
Now, kids, we're about to get really cold,
then really warm.
(moans)
HOMER (groggily): Bonk it. Twist it. Smack it.
(moaning)
Drink up, sweetie.
Let the possum work its magic.
(gags) Possum?!
Oh, don't worry, we don't kill it.
We just dip it.
(frightened chattering)
What happened?
What happened is,
I saved your life.
Now, you's had a rough day.
Why don't you have a pull on this?
Where's the hooch?
Oh, excuse my faux pas.
That jug was fo' Pa.
(snoring)
Come on, now.
We'll go on back to the still.
And in case we run into trouble...
(sighs) Oh, Brandine!
Where is the bazook?
(chuckles)
Oh, he's gonna shoot those Google Earth folks
what caught me with my breeches down.
This here's my pride and joy: 'Ol Betsy.
A female that gives birth to alcohol.
CLETUS: Now, gentlemen, let us toast
our new friend's escape from death's icy grip
with my latest batch of whoopee water.
(excited whoops and hollers)
So, what y'all think?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, good.
(chuckles)
It angrys up my fists!
I just remembered my feud with this here tree!
Get her done. Get her done.
What's your take, city boy?
Well, uh...
it's got a rich mash base and a sense of danger.
And I detect notes of elderberry, tobacco, oak--
no, poison oak--
and hints of game.
(impressed murmuring)
That is amazing!
You have the eloquence and urgency
of a census worker caught in a bear trap.
We's gonna invite you to all our soirees,
mixers and drink-'em-ups.
(cheering)
Now let's enjoy the bluegrass stylings
of the Country Bear Jamboree.
(growling, clanging)
(Homer laughing)
So, you guys have any video games?
Nope, but my mama brought some
of these boom potatoes back from Iraq.
(booming)
Set 'em up again.
So, I'll hide, and you guys
count to 100.
-One. -Two.
Backwards "E".
One-legged triangle.
Banana hot dog.
Double banana hot dog.
60 corncob two.
(giggles) This is the best hiding place.
They'll never find me.
I'm here.
Come find me.
Olly olly oxen free.
Olly olly oxen free!
(whimpers)
Why did I do Poetry Club instead of Girl Scouts?
FEMALE VOICES: Dark is she, but brilliant.
Black are her wings-- black on black.
She is Lilith,
who leadeth forth the hordes of the Abyss.
(chuckles nervously)
You are going to be so embarrassed.
There are two other people at this party
dressed just like you.
(chuckles nervously)
(whimpering)
State thy business.
My name's Lisa, and I was playing hide-and-seek
when I met you ladies. (chuckles nervously)
Please don't hurt me.
We're not going to hurt you.
-But we don't like outsiders observing our esbat. -Uh-huh.
What's an esbat?
An ancient ritual in celebration of the full moon.
We're Wiccans.
You mean witches?
Technically...
but we're not into broomsticks
or pointy hats.
Well, I'm glad you're not witches.
Wouldn't want you to cast a spell on me.
Oh, we cast spells.
And they work.
Sure, they do.
If magic was real, I'd use it to get out
of my pipe cleaner art project that's due tomorrow.
You should keep an open mind.
Things said in the circle
have a surprising way of coming true.
HOMER: Lisa. Lisa!
Dad, over here!
Come, sisters of the elements.
Let us leave this place in a manner most Wiccan.
What are you talking about?
Text your mom to pick us up.
Oh, sweetie, I found you.
Now, who's going to find us?
Help!
Uh-oh.
(ticking)
I have one minute to avoid my first late assignment ever.
(frustrated grunting)
The pipe cleaner fur is coming off on my hands.
Class, Miss Hoover will not be in today,
so you all get A's
on your pipe cleaner sculptures.
(students cheering)
-Ha ha! -Yes!
What happened to Miss Hoover?
Came down with a spell of stomach flu.
Spell? Those girls couldn't
have made her sick... or could they?
Maybe we'll pass the time with another craft project.
I'll let one of you pick.
Uh... Lisa.
Which craft?
(gasps)
Which craft?
(gasps)
Which craft?!
(sighs)
CLETUS: This here country is home
to over 300 family-owned stills.
None of them big corporate moonshiners,
like Crazy-Think White Lightning
or Dwayne Saggery's Demento Juice.
So, let's go taste some independent hooch!
♪♪
Hey, thanks for bringing us down here, Homer.
Yeah. There's something wonderful
about being drunk outdoors.
I wonder if Moe misses us.
MOE: No, I don't miss you.
Now, get back to my bar for happy hour,
or I'll paint the snow pink with your brains.
(guns cocking)
Drop your fire sticks, man possum.
Oh, uh, so, uh... so I guess this means you hillbillies
are going to have your way with me, huh?
Oh, for God's sake.
You know, one hillbilly has his way
with one fat guy in Deliverance,
and suddenly, people think that's all hillbillies do.
I suppose you think all space is Star Wars.
No, I... I thought we had a connection here,
and we're out in the woods and everything, and...
Hey, forget it! I...I ain't gonna beg for it.
You'll never know what you missed out on.
(horse neighs)
(cat meows)
Did you girls make Miss Hoover sick?
Oh, no, we would never ask the Goddess to harm a teacher.
But if the Goddess chose to help you
by giving Miss Hoover the Hershey Squirts,
such is her divine wisdom.
Oh, listen, not that I've lost my skepticism,
but I am interested in learning more about Wiccans.
Are you a minority group
as defined by Ivy League admissions?
Cornell and Dartmouth.
What else ya got?
We worship nature.
I worship nature!
Want to join us?
Well, it is an honor to be asked.
But I never make a final decision
in the middle of a forest at night.
FRANKIE: Hey, hey, that's smart thinkin'!
Shut up and dig your own grave.
What if I don't dig it?
What are you gonna do then?
Guess I'll have to dig it for ya.
With your bad back? Forget about it!
(grunting)
LISA: Hmm...
Is that a pentagram?
Lis! You've finally come over to the dark side!
Um, it's the Wiccan home page.
I'm thinking of joining.
No, no, no.
You're too young to be a witch.
Savor the steps leading up to it.
College anorexic, string of bad marriages,
career disappointments, failed pottery shop.
And then when you're old and alone,
you can hit the witch thing hard.
(dissonant note)
Hey, every witch needs a familiar.
I'm gonna put a spell on you! Yes, I am,
-my tuna-breath familiar. -(meows)
(giggling): Zap! Zap! Zap!
I curse you, Hell's Kitten!
Just as I feared.
Her Buddhism has led directly to witchcraft.
(gasps) And she's teleconferencing the Devil
using that computer from Hell!
I think it says "Dell."
We'll let the authorities sort that out.
(slurping) Mmm, not bad.
-(sirens wailing) -What's that twirly ruckus?
(gasps) The gummiment!
(panicked chattering)
("Cursum Perficio" plays)
Initiate, how does one enter the circle?
With perfect faith and perfect love.
WICCANS (chanting): Join us, join us, join us.
Do not sanctify that witch!
(music stops)
I kinda feel sorry for them, crammed in that backseat.
Toss them a Judy Blume novel, Lou.
Uh, all we've got is Wifey, Chief.
Nothing with kids in it?
Damn budget cuts.
CROWD (chanting): Burn, burn, burn! Burn, burn, burn!
Double bubble boil and trouble?
Today, Springfield will see
its first witch trials in 12 years.
Oh, I think I see the witches now.
This reporter has never encountered
such disfigured crones.
We're not the witches!
Oh, well then you must be victims
of the witches' hideous curse.
You didn't think I was so hideous that night we made out
in the back booth at the Seafood Hut.
We all did crazy things on 9/11.
Ah, here come the witches.
Do you have a statement for us mortals?
Goddess Lilith, who knows our hearts are pure...
ALL: Oh, queen of magic, show our persecutors that they are blind.
They are blind!
I'm blind! I'm blind!
What goes around, comes around.
Dear, God, I've gone blind.
Nurse, you'll have to be my eyes.
I'm blind, too!
Then I guess it's up to me.
(gavel pounding)
Gwendolyn Nightshadow,
did you use your supernatural powers
to blind half this town?
We're just kids.
My real name isn't even Gwendolyn Nightshadow.
It's Stacey, Stacey Deathsatan.
(gallery gasps)
(thunder rumbles)
So...
the defendants recruited you,
a young innocent, into their evil coven.
They're not evil!
They believe in friendship and respecting the earth.
And they made me feel like I belonged.
Your Honor, I'd like to enter something into the record.
Strangely, I'll allow it.
Ladies and gentlemen,
I am a big dummy with a stupid job.
I write down what other people say,
just like a big dummy would.
Could the court reporter read that back?
"I am a big dummy with a stupid job"?!
-Hey! -(chuckling)
In all my years of being a judge,
I've never seen such a flimsy case.
Are you sure?
'Cause we've brought you a lot of flimsy cases.
Like that goat we accused of income tax evasion.
I still think he was guilty.
♪♪
(goat bleating)
Well, I'm not wasting another minute on this.
Case dismissed!
(relieved sighs)
There's no justice here.
They made me blind!
And now I can really hear how I bomb!
Well, I say we take them out and have our own trial!
(gallery clamoring)
(gunshots boom)
Oh, uh, don't mind me.
I'm just trying to get a fly on the ceiling.
Ah, I got you now.
ALL (chanting): Burn the witch! Burn the witch!
Burn the witch!
Not so fast!
As citizens, we are still bound by the rule of law.
ALL: Boo!
17th century law!
(cheering)
I have reconstructed the ultimate instrument
of colonial justice: the dunking stool.
If the alleged witches survive the dunking,
they clearly were witches!
If they drown, then they were clearly innocent.
After this, it will be featured
in the fifth-grade play, The Crucible.
Good seats still available.
By which I mean, seats in the back where you can fall asleep.
(creaking)
(gasping)
Don't dip those Wiccans!
(mob gasping)
They didn't blind anyone.
I have proof!
(mob murmuring)
When my father was attending
the moonshine competition last Saturday...
You said you were at a parenting class!
Marge, please.
You're embarrassing me in front of the mob.
...you heard sirens, which you thought were police
coming to arrest you.
To ditch their stills,
the moonshiners pushed them down a hill.
The moonshine landed in a river,
temporarily blinding anyone or anything that drank it.
(thudding)
(tapping)
That river led to the reservoir
which made anyone who drank the town's tap water
also go temporarily blind.
Moonshine in the water?
I'll be the judge of that.
(slurping)
Hmm...
(gasps) Hillbilly moonshine!
The little witch is right!
(mob groaning, murmuring)
Wait, wait, wait, don't unform! You're a great mob!
We'll think of something else to get upset about!
How about all that construction on Route One, huh?
-Huh? -(mob groaning)
Oh, you ain't no mob.
You're just a bunch of spineless weasels.
Hey, hey, hey, it's just a figure of speech.
Kill the weasel hater!
(all cheering)
Now this is what I'm talking about!
Sister Lisa, thank you for saving us.
You were awesome.
No, thank you.
I've been rational but nerdy my whole life.
But these past few weeks, you girls made me feel cool.
Cool! Me, Lisa Simpson!
Well, I think you're very interesting girls,
but from now on,
the only "witch" in Lisa's life
is which boy will marry her.
Right, Homer? Homer?
Start the ride!
(giggling): Again!
(spluttering)
-Huh? -Hmm.
Hmm.
(men laughing)
(Donovan's "Season of the Witch" plays)
♪ You've got to pick up every stitch ♪
♪ Mmm ♪
♪ Must be the season of the witch ♪
♪ Must be the season of the witch... ♪
(gurgling and sputtering)
(panting)
(theme song plays)
Shh!
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