Season 21 - Episode 03 - The Great Wife Hope -
Yes!
How did you ever come up with an idea like "crazy bowling"?
I Googled "girls having fun,"
and after wading through 97,000 pages of porn,
I found "crazy bowling."
That's odd.
There isn't a single man in this whole bowling alley.
... the pin!
It's pretty sad when I can't pick up a guy on Super Nacho Tuesday.
Where'd they all go?
You know men. Probably at a baseball game or a bar.
Come on, you pansies!
I've seen fiercer fights in Parliament!
Yes, what is this, Prime Minister's Question Time?
Yeah, is it that?
There's no better violence than self-inflicted violence.
Thanks for bringing me here, dad.
I'll remember this day on my deathbed.
Not everyone has a deathbed, son. You could die suddenly.
Maybe some punk kid will shoot me to get into a gang.
Maybe.
Three hours of half-naked guys fighting like animals.
Just like the ancient Romans.
Yeah, except their empire was falling apart.
Stupid Romans.
Ask him.
Sir, could you sign my program with a swear word?
Filthy but obscure with a subtle scatological undertone.
Sure, no problem.
- $25, please. - Pay the man, boy.
Now, listen, son,
I know we saw some awesome beat-downs tonight,
but remember: don't try this at home.
Do it at the schoolyard.
Someplace where, if you get hurt, we can sue not just them
but the school, the county, the state, and that jackass Joe Biden.
Python neck clinch and... out.
Maybe I was promoted to green belt too early.
Next victim.
Here we go.
Where's your brother?
I don't know, chasing ducks, buried alive?
He'll be missed. Let's move: I got to collect pine cones.
Die, die, die!
Just follow the dies, Mom.
Why me? Why me?
I'm glad your father isn't here to see this.
Kill, kill, kill, kill!
Bart, let him go.
But Mom, I'm winning. Look at this, his lunch money.
God didn't give you legs so you could use them as scissors.
I was just doing the moves I learned from Ultimate Punching.
Ultimate Punching?!
- "Ultimate" makes everything worse. - Not Frisbee.
- Otto, don't you have a sack to hacky? - Indeed I do.
One...
I messed up.
One... I messed up.
One...
I messed up!
I'm going to put a stop to this Ultimate Punching.
You can't stop an entire sport. You'd need several other mothers,
some sympathetic school officials and clergymen...
- A place to meet, some snacks... - What else?
A phone tree is invaluable. How you fixed for staplers?
Those fliers don't stick to phone poles by themselves.
Nelson, you really have a knack for this.
When I grow up, I hope to go into event planning.
Maybe someday you can do Lisa's wedding.
I'd like that.
- My God. - So violent.
- Bumped his nose! - He hit him.
This goes on for a while.
Call me a killjoy,
but I think that because this is not to my taste,
no one else should be able to enjoy it.
I'm all over that.
Don't do this.
This sport is as fun for me as having kids is for you.
Tell her, dad.
You love Ultimate Punching even more than I do.
Ultimate Punching is exploitative, violent,
and a bad influence on our young people.
Studies have shown your mother is right.
What the...?
Chocolate, whipped cream, cherries!
she got to you with a piece of Black Forest cake.
It wasn't just a piece,
it was the whole cake!
Frosting like snow
on the eaves of a Bavarian castle!
- Glad you didn't come cheap. - I couldn't help it!
She knew my one weakness:
that I'm weak!
One, two, we say boo!
Three, four, stop the gore!
Five, six, who's got tix?
Seven, eight, use that gate.
We need to take this into the belly of the beast.
Mr. Scalper, give me a ticket.
I am not a scalper.
I am a dude whose 200 friends did not show up.
- What do we do now? - Let's talk about Marge behind her back.
Have you ever noticed how that baby of hers never says a thing?
- I think it saw something awful. - Me, too.
- That's exactly what it is. - What else could it be?
That woman has natural breasts.
This can't be good.
I'm Marge Simpson, and I will not rest
until you tear down this septagon.
Crazy dame. Nobody tears down the septagon.
Except for the arena crew because Hufflesnuffs on Ice
needs the space tomorrow.
Wait a minute, I have a better idea.
Marge, I'm Chett Englebrecht,
UPKCC founder, commissioner,
and public face of the sport.
Pleased to meet you.
Guys, please.
When you yell like that, no one can hear me.
Chett, I'm here to ask you one simple thing:
please go out of business
and donate all your profits to charity.
At least in other sports, they're trying to put a ball in a net or a zone,
but in this sport they don't put anything in anything,
and if they did, I wouldn't want to see it.
Okay, you win.
Annoying lady, you make a great point.
I am going to shut down this sport.
- Really? - If you meet me
in the septagon, fight me, and beat me.
What?! That's crazy.
What's wrong, Marge?
Do you have to ask your husband?
- Good one! - Zing!
That flattens my soda pop. You're on.
- What'd I miss? - Nothin'.
Mom, you can't fight that guy.
Yeah, Marge, he'll knock your block off your beautiful block
Thank you, Homie.
Listen, of all the crazy things I've ever done,
This is the craziest, and you're doing it.
I can't back out.
This is for a cause that's bigger than I am.
If Gandhi could go without eating
for a whole three-hour movie, I can do this.
Besides, I'm a woman.
He'll probably go easy on me.
Or kick the crap out of you.
Watch your language, moron.
If I'm going to open a can of whup-tushy,
I'd better get in shape with some rhythmic gymnastics.
Someone's got to stop her from going through with this fight.
This goes against every feminist bone in my body,
but Dad, can't you control your woman?
How can I control her? I have nothing to withhold!
Oh, man, now she's writing cutesy things with the ribbon.
PEACE
UNDERSTANDING
Homer, this is bad.
One unlucky punch and Marge could be bedridden for life.
Unable to move anything but her left toe.
Yeah.
FEED ME
Oh, Marge, if only I knew what these paintings meant.
I know the woman I loved is still in there somewhere,
behind all this nonsense.
We've gotta get Marge some professional training.
Carl, do you know heavyweight champ Drederick Tatum?
You think just 'cause I'm black I know all other black people?
Well, I, uh, uh...
Actually, Drederick and I are very good friends.
We met through Dr. Hibbert at a party at Bleeding Gums Murphy's house.
Well, Marge, you have definitely come to the right crib.
I'm always happy to impart my pugilistic prowess to a punching parvenu.
Now, the first lesson will be to work the tattoos.
Flaming skull. Obama.
Scooby-Doo. Scooby-Doo. Scooby-Doo.
Work "The Lord's Prayer."
I'm gonna order some lion food. Hello? Yeah, how you doin'?
I'd like to order 2 gazelles, an impala, and throw in a couple of wildebeests.
Oh, and a two-liter bottle of diet cherry cola.
You just have one-liter bottles? Okay, cancel the whole order.
The second element of mixed martial arts is jujitsu,
in which we use an opponent's strength against himself.
But I sneak some of my strength in there, too.
Now, attack me with great anger!
Surprising move!
Next: Homer, hajime!
Now, we stick foot in mouth,
tie arms like pretzel,
and pop discs in spine like bubble wrap.
- Is he okay? - Oh, he feels no pain.
Sorry, my English is not so good.
I mean, he feels only pain.
Back when I wrestled at Yale,
I was in the lightest weight category: "ether weight."
Now, get ready to face the wrath of the "New Haven Nuisance!"
Side-mount! Takedown! Advantage!
Reversal! Reversal!
Clinch! Clinch, I say!
Listen, I'm late for a PTA meeting.
In order to save money,
the following presidents will no longer be taught:
Buchanan, Fillmore, Pierce, Bush, Bush...
could you please stop that?
Saratoga slam!
Aristotle's dilemma!
Knickerbocker knucklebreaker! And so on.
Marge, I bet we got ten minutes
till the kids wake up.
Marge! Marge!
Marge!
Tomorrow night your bedroom will be the septagon.
Your sleeping pill will be my punches.
By the way, what's that book you're reading?
Eat, Pray, Love.
More like "Beat, Slay, Shove!"
The fireworks begin tomorrow!
I said tomorrow!
No can do. We're out of fireworks.
Why'd you shoot 'em off now?
I have trouble concentrating.
I should be on antidepressants.
Ugh. Where was I?
"Beat, Slay, Shove."
Right... "Beat, Slay, Shove!"
The fireworks start tomorrow!
I found some more, but that was it!
A lot of people think bullies are born awesome,
but the fact is, we have to train.
You don't get garlic knots like these unless you work the bag.
Is there someone in there?
It's my own fault.
I looked them in the eye when I gave them my lunch money.
Someone should tell your principal!
I'm well aware of the situation.
Mom, I came here to tell you
it's not too late to back out.
I can't back out,
because if I fight him tomorrow,
it'll be a less violent world for you kids in the future.
There must be a better way.
There certainly is!
Marge Simpson reporting for duty!
Dad, I keep telling you, that won't work.
Let's go, Marge.
My class reunion starts in an hour.
Uh, Moe, I have a confession to make.
I'm just Homer dressed as Marge.
Yeah, but last year I took Barney dressed as Marge.
Think how much better they'll think you look.
Well, you'd better not leave me and talk to your old friends all night.
Keep talkin' like that and I'll leave you here right now!
Krusty, I'm honored you invited me tonight.
Yeah, I thought a noisy public place
would be the best spot to tell you that I've been dating your wife.
What?!
Also, could you tell her I'm dumping her?
After 11 years, the thrill is gone.
I tried my best to talk you out of this.
But since you're going through with it, I beg you,
just stay out of his way and don't get hurt.
And, Mom, if you punch him in the junk,
you'll get no disrespect from me.
Hey, Bart, did you know that's a haiku?
Time to square off in the ring...
that is, The Septagon!
In this corner, weighing in at...
Nobody needs to know that! Skip ahead!
Stands the "Mom I'd Like To Fight"...
Marge Simpson!
And four obtuse angles over, weighing in at 115 pounds,
Chett Englebrecht!
And, now...
let's begin...
to rumba!
We've been ready for hours!
I had car...
trouble!
Don't worry, Marge. Don't want to hurt you.
I knew it!
That's the first time I ever hit a woman I didn't love.
Nine...
Come on! Get back on your feet!
- I believe in you! - I'm doin' it, Moe!
- Not you. - Oh, thank God.
The pressure's off.
I'll save you, Marge!
Hit my Mom, will ya?
I'm gonna knock you out and moon your corpse.
Heck, I'll fight anyone. Except a man my own size.
That's... my... son.
Tap out!
Don't make me break your arm!
Lady, why don't you break out the lipstick and kiss my ass?
There sure is a lot o' talkin' for a professional fight.
That's what you get when you fight a woman.
And they spend all day eating bonbons and watching General Hospital.
Which, by the way, has never been better.
Okay, I give! I give! I give! You're better than me!
Really? Ooh, thank you.
Now, let me go...
turn your back and take a bow.
Okeydoke.
Thank you!
I'd just like to say one thing.
I only agreed to this fight
because I wanted to stop the violence.
And sure I got into great shape
and met some fun people,
but I ended up discovering my own dark side.
So from now on,
the only thing I'm fighting is this cold I'm coming down with.
Mom, that's a beautiful thought.
Yeah, well, I wish somebody would've stuck around to hear it.
Where did they all go?
Two drunk guys were fighting outside
and everyone went to watch.
Can I go, Marge? Can I? Can I?
No. Let's go home.
We can enjoy some mixed "marital" arts.
Oh, no holds barred.
- Hey, Lise... - Yeah?
I don't know when we'll be in a septagon again.
Want to settle this bad blood
that's been going on between us since you were born?
You're on.
Transcript : Raceman
Synchro : Robot & Job22