Homer the Smithers
Testing. Testing for Mr. Burns.
I've warmed up the crowd, sir.
Welcome, employees.
Come in.
The whole night's entertainment is on me...
...Monty Burns!
Welcome, welcome, welcome...
...to an evening of exciting quarter-mile action, action, action.
Our first race is a benefit for daredevil Lance Murdock, Murdock, Murdock...
...who is hospitalized with cirrhosis of the liver, liver, liver.
All right! Liver!
Boy, it sure would be fun to carpool in one of those, huh, kids?
I'd be a real hotrod mama, wouldn't I?
You missed the race, Mama.
I wish I'd pay more attention.
Smithers, this beer isn't working.
I don't feel any younger or funkier.
I'll switch to the tablespoon, sir.
Coming up next, our feature race, the Nuclear Power Plant Championship.
Plant, plant.
Ah, at last! Smithers, fetch the "bioculars."
Damnation! Tell them to go slower.
Yes, sir.
Hi, guys. Could we keep it in first gear for a couple laps?
Go! Go!
Slow down.
Excellent.
Oh, this novelty foam hand is ludicrously oversized.
Go swap it for a smaller one.
It is a bit ostentatious, sir.
I'll be right back.
Hey, Burnsy!
This was some swell shindig. Thank you very much.
- Smithers, what's happening? - I had a great time.
I just want to shake your hand.
- You're the greatest. - Smithers, help!
It's not as funny to me, but what do I know?
Smithers!
Oh, my God!
You should have seen the murderous glint in his eyes, Smithers.
And his breath reeked of beer and pretzeled bread.
I'm so sorry, Mr. Burns. This was all my fault.
Don't concern yourself.
If things had turned ugly, I always had my mace.
Don't let me off the hook that easily, sir.
I failed you, and I'll never forgive myself.
Never, never, never...
Never, never, never.
Good morning, sir.
To make up for my failure last night, I alphabetized your breakfast.
Start with the waffles and work your way up to the zwieback.
And to prevent newsprint from rubbing off...
...I've laminated today's newspaper.
I appreciate the thought, but my pen won't write on this.
How am I supposed to do the "Junior Jumble"?
Oh, I can't even grovel properly!
I'm a buffoon!
I don't deserve to live on your planet anymore!
Pull yourself together, man.
You're in need of a long vacation.
No, don't make me take a vacation.
Without you I'll wither and die!
It's a risk I'm willing to take.
What would you do without me, sir?
I'm not a baby who needs a nursemaid to burp me.
You see? Now, I insist you take a vacation...
...just as soon as a temporary substitute can be found.
I've got to find a replacement who won't outshine me.
Perhaps if I search the employee evaluations for the word...
..."incompetent."
Seven hundred fourteen names!
I better be more specific.
"Lazy"...
..."clumsy"...
..."dimwitted"...
..."monstrously ugly."
I'll just go get Homer Simpson.
I think Smithers picked me because of my motivational skills.
Everyone says they have to work a lot harder when I'm around.
Dad, assisting Mr. Burns could give your career a real shot in the arm.
Homer, assisting Mr. Burns could give your career a real shot in the arm.
Mom, I just said that.
Sorry.
Next time get your own darn corn.
Is this the chair I'll be sitting on?
Yeah. Now, I realize caring for Mr. Burns seems like a big job...
...but actually it's just 2800 small jobs.
But this is the chair, right?
Your duties will include answering Mr. Burns' phone...
...preparing his taxes, moistening his eyeballs...
...helping him chew and swallow...
...lying to Congress, and some light typing.
Montgomery Burns' office.
Oh, hello, Mrs. Burns.
I'll see if your son is available.
Mr. Burns has a mother?
She must be a hundred million years old.
She has limited capacities.
All she can do is dial and yell.
I'm sorry. Monty can't come to the phone right now.
He's in a very important meeting and can't be disturbed.
Okay, I'll give him the message.
Mr. Burns can't stand talking to his mother.
He never forgave her for having that affair with President Taft.
Taft, you old dog!
Really, Smithers, I'll be fine.
I'm sure your replacement will be able to handle everything.
- Who is he, anyway? - Homer Simpson, sir.
One of your organ banks from Sector 7G.
All the recent events of your life have revolved around him in some way.
Simpson, eh?
Mr. Smithers.
I don't understand 2700 of my duties.
The van's leaving. Which duty is giving you the most trouble?
What do I do in case of fire?
Sorry, can't hear you. Bye.
Just my luck.
Good Lord, Smithers, you look atrocious. I thought I told you to take a vacation.
Smithers already left, sir. I am his replacement, Homer Simpson.
Ah, yes, Simpson.
I'll have my lunch now.
A single pillow of Shredded Wheat, some steamed toast and a dodo egg.
- I think the dodo went extinct. - Get going!
Answer the phones, install a computer system...
...and rotate my office so the window faces the hills.
Okay.
Can you repeat the part of the stuff where you said all about the things?
The things?
Lousy two-legged pants.
Homie, it's 4:30 in the morning.
- Little Rascals isn't on till 6:00. - I know. I'm taping it.
I want to get to Mr. Burns' house early to make his breakfast.
Poor Homie.
Poor, poor...
One of these must be a breakfast maker.
Well, it's my job to cook him breakfast...
...and I'm gonna cook the best damn breakfast he ever ate!
Doughnuts? I told you, I don't like ethnic food.
Here. Tell me how my stocks did yesterday.
- They all won. - What about my options?
You can get up or go back to sleep.
I believe I'll get up.
Scrub harder. Got to get that layer of dead skin off.
I think...
...the fangs today.
Simpson?
You get that report on the Accounting Department?
Yes, sir, I did.
The Accounting Department is located on the third floor.
Its hours are 9:00 a.m. To 5:00 p.m.
The head of this department is a Mr. Johnson or Johnstone.
Here are your messages. You have 30 minutes to move your car.
You have 10 minutes.
Your car has been impounded.
Your car has been crushed into a cube.
You have 30 minutes to move your cube.
Hello. Mr. Burns' office.
- Is it about my cube? - It's Mr. Smithers. He's calling for you.
How is everything going there, sir?
Well, I have a lot of free time on my hands.
If you FedEx me your mail, I'll open and return it.
Everything's fine, Smithers.
This Simpson fellow gets dumber by the minute.
I've never seen anything quite like it. Anyhoo, just enjoy your vacation.
Look alive, Simpson. I'm not paying you to goldbrick.
- Yes. Yes, sir. - Get cracking on my long division.
- Show your work, Simpson. - I'll have it on your desk, sir.
Bart, leave Simpson alone.
- Simpson, I need a ride to the library. - Yes, sir.
Kids! Stop exploiting your father!
Why don't you lie down and relax?
No time, Marge. I think Mr. Burns wants me to do some long division.
Simpson, lie down!
Sorry, but you need a good night's rest.
Simpson!
The telephone has been ringing for some time.
Answer it.
Hello?
It's for you.
Mr. Burns, 48 rings, are you all right?
What did Simpson do to you?
Nothing other than drive me to distraction with his incompetent boobery.
Terrible at everything. A complete moron!
But I'm not really free to talk right now.
Now, look. Stop calling me and start enjoying your vacation.
Remember, I want to see lots of pictures when you get back.
Actually, sir, picture-taking is not allowed at this particular resort.
I gotta go now. There's a line forming behind me.
Sixty watts?
What do you think this is, a tanning salon?
I asked for light starch on my nightcap.
You call this Postum?
You call this a tax return?
You call this a supercomputer?
You're a travesty of a joke of an assistant.
Is there something wrong, Homie?
No.
- Except? - Except...
...I killed Mr. Burns!
What happened, Dad?
I punched Burns right in his 104-year-old face!
Are you sure he's dead? Maybe you just really hurt him.
Okay, maybe everything is all right.
Maybe if you go apologize, he won't even fire you.
If he's alive.
Mr. Burns?
I'm really sorry I hit you, Mr. Burns.
Here, let me put some salt on that eye.
No, please. I can't bear another thrashing.
- Just leave me be. - Yes, sir.
Must call Smithers.
He'll protect me from this beast.
I've seen people activate this machine a thousand times.
Doesn't seem to be any trick to it. Let's see, Smithers...
S-M-l-T-H-E-R-S.
Success! It's ringing!
- Moe's Tavern. - I'm looking for a Mr. Smithers.
First name, Waylon.
Oh, so you're looking for a Mr. Smithers, eh?
First name "Waylon," is it?
Listen to me, you. When I catch you...
...I'm gonna pull out your eyes and shove them down your pants...
...so you can watch me kick the crap out of you!
Then I'm gonna use your tongue to paint my boat!
Oh, Smithers, if only you could hear me.
Something tells me Mr. Burns needs me.
Praise God, I think the thug has finally gone home for the day.
Now I can make my escape.
Hi, Mr. Burns. You want your coffee?
No. I'm making it myself.
Hear that? The percolations are imminent.
No need to come in.
Cease your ingress.
Stay back, Homer. Approach no further.
The coffee is made. I stomped the beans myself.
Well, can I at least drive you home, Mr. Burns? It's 5:00.
No. I thought... I thought I would chauffeur myself this evening.
Yes, that's what I thought.
How difficult can it be?
The manual will indicate...
...which lever is the "velocitator" and which the "deceleratrix."
I can't believe it.
All my life I've avoided doing things for myself...
...but I'm actually enjoying this.
Plus, I'm making incredible time.
Beep, beep! Out of my way!
I am a motorist.
That's some nice reckless driving, Mr. B.
Should I shred those environmental reports for you, sir?
Already taken care of.
Cappuccino, Simpson?
Ahoy-hoy?
No, you have the wrong number.
This is 5246.
I suspect you need more practice working your telephone machine.
Not at all. Ahoy.
Mr. Burns, is there anything at all I can do for you?
No, Homer. You've already done more for me than any man.
Your brutal attack forced me to fend for myself.
I realize now that being waited on hand and foot...
...is okay for your average Joe...
...but it's not for me.
I want to thank you.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Oh, my God!
I knew I shouldn't have left!
Welcome back, Smithers.
Say, do you know Homer Simpson?
He pitched in around the office while you were away.
Bang-up job, Simpson, but I guess it's back to your post in Sector 7G.
You heard the man, Simpson.
And, my dear, dear Smithers...
...you're no longer needed at all.
You're fired. Ta-ta.
You shouldn't have gone away on vacation.
Cheer up, Homie.
I just feel terrible about getting Mr. Smithers fired.
That job was all he had.
Imagine how you would feel, Marge, if you got fired from the...
Those things that you do.
Quick, Mom, whip up a cake before Dad fires you.
Don't worry, Dad. Mr. Smithers is a resilient man.
I'm sure he can get a great job at any corporation he wants.
Meet your new piano mover.
We're gonna have to put a steel rod where your spine was.
Will I ever move a piano again?
Oh, my goodness gracious, no.
Get ready for quarter-mile action at the Springfield Dragstrip.
It'll be motorized mayhem, mayhem, mayhem.
Do we need all those "mayhems"? We do.
All right, fair enough. I suppose you know your business.
Get ready for fun, fun, fun.
People are already here. We don 't need to keep hustling them like this, do we?
You let go of me. Where are you throwing me?
Hello. You got a "help wanted" sign in the window?
Yeah, I need someone to help me with the midnight beer delivery.
Your job is to distract Barney until it's safely off the truck.
I'll just wait out back until then.
I look forward to working with you.
Mr. Smithers, wait.
You can't let yourself end up in a place like this.
You've got two choices.
You can give up on yourself and take the Barney-guarding job...
...like so many of us have contemplated in our darkest moments...
...or you can admit to yourself only one person can make you happy...
...and do whatever it takes to get them back!
You're right.
But I'm gonna need your help.
Oh, my God!
Beer delivery. Sign here.
Oh, no! It's you!
- Oh, boy! - Shoot him!
Okay. I got you covered.
Mr. Burns may have mastered 2799 of my 2800 duties...
...but I'll wager he still can't handle a call from his mother.
You're on.
- What? - Hello, Mrs. Burns?
This is Waylon Smithers. I have your son on the line.
That improvident lack wit.
Always too busy striding about his atom mill to call his own mother.
I'll give him what fors till he cries "brassafrax!"
Perfect. When I give the signal, you transfer the call to Mr. Burns.
After she tears into him, I'll rush in and save the day.
Got it.
I'm transferring a call in to you, Mr. Burns.
No problemo.
Ahoy-hoy? Ahoy?
Hello, Mr. Burns.
This is your mother.
No.
Oh, hello, Mater.
Sorry about pulling the plug on you and all.
Who could have known you'd pull through...
...and live for another five decades?
Oh, is my face red.
Mrs. Burns is 122 years old, so try to sound more desiccated.
And she doesn't call her son "Mr. Burns."
Son, this is Mrs. Burns.
I just called to say I don't love you.
You are a bad son, Montel.
So...
Impersonate my mother, will you?
And you, Smithers, you must have put him up to it.
I'm glad I fired you.
You really blew it this time, Smithers.
Stop that. Stop that at once.
You're fighting.
- Stop fighting like a girl, Simpson! - Okay.
Stop it! Stop it, I say!
I'll teach you how to use a phone, you boob.
It's for you.
I'll show you.
Oh, my.
Here comes the endangered condor into the power lines.
I've got Bobo from the dryer. Careful not to burn yourself on his eye.
I don't need you to do any of this.
I'm totally self-reliant now.
What I would like, though, is a Spanish peanut.
Skinned.
It's a remarkable thing.
In the short time you were gone...
...I learned to be completely self-reli...
- ant.
Oh, and as for that brutish fellow who knocked me out the window...
...see that he gets what's coming to him.
I already have, sir.
- What did you get that for? - For knocking Mr. Burns out a window.
- Makes sense to me. - Did he die?
What am I? A doctor?
Subtitles by SDI Media Group
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