(eerie music plays)
(tires screeching)
D'oh!
(tires screeching)
(grunts)
Hmm? (gasps)
(clattering, Homer groaning)
-(bell ringing) -Whoa!
(all groaning)
(ringing continues, Homer groaning)
♪♪
Oh, I love going to aquatic parks.
Sure, they have worse rides than amusement parks,
less fish than aquariums-- but the parking is ample!
(Marge humming)
Now to seal you in for safety.
Oh, there's so many photo ops,
but I already filled up my camera in the parking lot.
Parking lot C sign, the tram,
a license plate from Canada,
a bird eating potato chips,
my feet walking,
that boy who got sick on the tram,
Grampa talking to a mermaid hedge,
the park rules in Spanish,
a fat baby,
Grampa telling a story to a trailer hitch.
-(ding) -Oops! I erased them all!
I want to do that!
(mechanical whirring)
(gasping)
I'm going to take stuff from the lost and found!
(humming)
(chuckles)
(people screaming)
My feet hurt!
My left ear's freezing!
My right ear's burning!
I got fish smell in my wrinkles!
(grunts)
ANNOUNCER: Attention, exploro-nauts!
That's us!
In one minute, we'll be starting
our rock-quatic roll-tacular!
Hurry! If we don't get a seat in the splash zone,
I've worn my bathing suit under my clothes for nothing!
GRAMPA: A splash-'em-up show?
Reminds me of the time I high-dived into a damp sponge
for the amusement of Federal Reserve Chairman Paul Volcker.
Grampa, no stories!
You can come with us, or sit here on the shark bench.
You know, I did sit on a shark once...
Dad, bathing suit!
(grunts)
Oops! No bathing suit.
♪♪
Let's give a wet and wacky welcome
to Springfield's oldest performing mollusk...
Get to the show!
This is the show!
Here's the original Octomom: Slimu!
♪ Whoa! ♪
♪ I feel good ♪
(applause, cheering)
♪ I knew that I would... ♪
Slimu! Did you get my letters?
Slimu wasn't expecting company,
so he's got some cleaning up to do!
♪ ...I wouldn't now ♪
♪ So good ♪
(muffled laughter)
Slimu looks kind of uncomfortable.
Wouldn't you be if you were a saltwater fish
in a freshwater aquarium?
The country has its first black president.
Maybe it's time for the first octopus president!
("Hail to the Chief" playing)
And when it comes to signing bills,
he can provide his own ink!
Ahh, oily!
(cheering and applause)
They'll cheer a dancing octopus,
but not an old man complaining about everything.
Excuse me, sir. Is this seat taken?
Well, not for a pretty girl like you!
(chuckles nervously)
Well, this is the first time I ever sat on a shark.
Not me-- sat on a real one once!
-Tell me more! -More?!
(gasps)
Play it cool, Grampa.
Play it cool!
It was back in World War II.
I was a Seaman First Class
on the USS World War I.
We were minding our own business
when we were attacked by a heat-seeking torpedo
we had fired the day before.
(explosion)
(men screaming)
(gasps)
Don't worry about the sharks, boys.
Just play possum and they'll leave you alone.
GRAMPA: Unfortunatley, sharks love possum.
Hey, boys, these sharks can't bite us if we're on their backs!
(grunts) Yeah.
It's like riding the Cyclone back at Coney Island!
Whoa!
It's like riding a dust devil back in Yuma--
like I read about in a book back in Boston!
GRAMPA: By the time the rescue planes came,
we had those sharks trained pretty good.
♪♪
I still keep in touch with all those men
and some of the sharks.
Why, here's us in Hawaii last year.
Good times.
Sir, my name is Marshall Goldman.
I'm a newspaper columnist
specializing in human interest stories.
You're in the newspaper business?
(chuckles)
Something that's gonna die before I do!
You have any other stories you'd care to tell me?
Someone's listening to me!
Now I know how a radio feels!
(school bell ringing)
Well, class, it's Friday afternoon.
That means it's time to find out which one of you gets
to take Larry the Lamb home for the weekend.
-(all sigh) -Oh! Oh! Oh!
And don't forget, the lucky student gets to add his or her page
to Larry's personal journal.
Just like Martin did last week.
Ha!
-I want him first! -No, me!
Oh, not that stupid stuffed lamb again.
This isn't learning!
Do you want to learn?
No, no, no. I'm just saying...
This weekend,
Larry will go home with...
(all gasp)
Please, God, I need this.
...Bart Simpson.
(all groan)
Oh, cruel irony!
Hey, the only thing I bring home are notes to my parents,
and those do not arrive the way that they left.
Hmm.
Oh, what a nice note!
I'm not sticking my hand in that can again.
You're getting the lamb.
Not so fast.
Tell the diary how special he makes you feel!
More adjectives!
That's an adverb!
(grunts)
(sizzling)
Top of the morning, Homer.
Seen the paper?
No, I get my news off the Internet.
(laughing)
Well, sir, it looks like your dad is a quotable notable.
Huh?
That's a... It's funny.
It's poignant...
It actually happened!
My father is interesting?!
The whole world's upside down!
That must mean Cathy is funny.
Nope.
Abe, I never knew you were so full of...
-(speaking Yiddish) -What does that mean?
It's like (speaking Yiddish),
but with a pinch more (speaking Yiddish)
Yep, I may just be
the best known Abraham in history.
So, Abe, what else you got for me?
Hmm, well, let's see.
Ooh, I was working as a shoeshine boy
at Springfield Union Station.
♪♪
Every Monday, the Tinseltown Starliner would stop
at 1:17 p.m. on its way to Hollywood.
I never rode that train,
but I'd palaver with the movie stars
when they got out to stretch their legs.
Hiya!
(clicking)
But none was more memorable than...
Clark Gable!
Looks like someone has seen my work
as an extra in Du Barry, Woman Of Passion.
I sure have, Mr. Gable.
How come you ain't a star yet?
Maybe my ears are too big. I don't know.
(laughs)
-Hey, what you reading there? -Oh, it's called
Gone with the Wind. You can have it.
It's only got one swear word, and not a very good one.
Gone with the Wind, eh?
Well, let's see: garbage, garbage, my line.
Garbage, garbage, my line.
Atlanta burns, nice dresses. I like it!
Thanks, kid.
Don't tell this story to anyone for 60 years.
(train whistle blowing)
"Clark Gable owes me a book.
And he never paid me for the shoeshine.
But his big blue eyes could melt the butter
you kept in your pocket for lunch.
Lunch butter we called it."
How come Grampa never shared those stories with us?
He does all the time.
You just never listen.
Marge, my brain is like a computer,
and I file away Grampa's stories in a very special place.
(clicking)
(crunching)
Hmm, while I'm up there.
(clicking)
(crunching)
(dings)
(chuckles)
(beeps)
Uh-oh.
(dog barking)
-(growling) -That's it, boy! Go for the nards!
Bart!
If you're not gonna take care of him right,
then give him to me.
How come you don't get mad when I torment real animals?
I do! It enrages me!
I thought you Hindus were supposed to love everybody.
I'm a freaking Buddhist!
A Buddhist!
Larry, please don't judge our whole family by Bart.
He's the black sheep.
I mean, not that black sheep
are in any way inferior to white sheep.
I do not judge wool by its color--
only by how itchy it is.
(chuckles) Ooh, look!
Jazz!
Larry, what sub-genre of jazz do you like?
Fusion? Neo-bop?
Afro-Cuban?
(gasps)
Larry!
Gotcha! (screams)
(water splashing)
Larry? Oh, Larry?
Larry?
Larry?!
You're coming off desperate, honey.
That's how I got my idea for a suitcase with wheels,
from watching a commercial about a suitcase with wheels.
(all sigh)
Hey, Abe,
great stories.
I'm Mitch Albom, author of Tuesdays with Morrie.
Never heard of you.
Yeah. Sure you haven't.
Take a hike, Hollywood.
I've already got a college boy
to turn my every word into syndicated gold.
Yeah, beat it, sports page.
And what if I don't?
(grumbling)
(groans)
Clouds are God's sneezes.
Ooh, I like this kid.
(humming)
Oh, Dad, I got you some Scotch.
One of those fancy ones
the checkout lady had to unlock the cabinet to get.
Well, well, well,
look who decided to visit me twice in one year.
This man's more of a son to me than you've ever been.
What the...?!
Well, he's more of a father to me than you've ever been!
I don't think that's true.
Stay out of this, Dad.
Uh, no. O-Okay.
You only care about me now because I'm famous.
That's it.
Here's your ring back.
Ring? What ring?
It's a father-son commitment band
that I bought and never told you about.
(sobbing)
And now I'm telling you.
Okay, I need the stupid lamb back.
He's in here, safe and sound.
Let me just staple that bag for you.
(panting)
Hmm.
This isn't Larry.
It's just cotton balls on toilet paper rolls.
Where's the real Larry?
Well, what do you care?
You don't even like him.
Of course I don't, but other people do.
Hey, Bart, can't wait to see Larry again.
Um, what if someone were to lose Larry?
They'd see a dark side of me no one knows about.
♪ Nelson loved a little lamb ♪
♪ Little lamb, little lamb ♪
♪ Nelson loved a little lamb ♪
♪ He kept me nice and sane. ♪
(beep)
ABE: You've reached Abe.
MARSHALL: And Marshall.
Abe can't come to the phone right now.
ABE: And if this is Homer, you're too late for my love.
(beep)
Stupid Grampa.
I try to end the cycle of neglect,
and he hits me with some super neglect.
Maybe you're not really mad at Grampa.
Maybe you're mad at yourself
for taking him for granted all these years.
Marge, how can anyone be mad at himself?
It's impossible. Watch.
Why, you little...
(gasps) Oh, I can't.
When I look at those beautiful chubby cheeks.
Come here, you.
Ow!
Ow! I'll kill you, you son of a ...!
Oh. No, no, don't-don't look hurt.
Okay. It's okay.
It's okay.
I'll show Grampa.
I'll find my own surrogate father
full of heartwarming stories I can share with the world.
And that's how you win an opium war.
Oh, great stuff.
And the life lesson is?
The Yangtze River swallows all secrets.
Hmm.
I'm just gonna put "Haste makes waste."
Yes, although, these days, I can make neither haste nor waste.
You know, Simpson,
this has truly been a lovely afternoon.
Release... a hound.
Isn't that cute?
He thinks he's a pack.
-(barking) -(yells)
Where'd you get this rope?
Swiped it from gym class.
Climb that rope!
There is no rope.
Well, you better get to the ceiling somehow!
(panting)
-Ceiling, ceiling, ceiling! -(grunts)
(groaning)
Bart, I'm losing my grip.
Put the rope in your teeth.
What will that do?
It'll shut you up.
(grunts)
Hmm.
Larry?
Larry the Lamb?
There you are, you piece of crap.
-(growling) -(yells)
There's rats in my pants!
Chief, my brother fell in the storm drain!
Um, I'm strictly an above-the-ground policeman.
What you need is the sewer cops.
Fine. What's their number?
Lisa, you're old enough now
that I can tell you the truth.
There's no such thing as the sewer cops.
It's just something we tell kids to make them feel safe.
What about Bart?
Well, if you miss him, yell into a toilet.
BART (echoing): It's dark down here!
I have a column I'd like to submit.
Pay me whenever.
I'll just take this to our editor.
(shredder whirring)
Hmm.
What?
Pulitzer Prize application form?
"When I rode with Abe Simpson on the Tinseltown Starliner,
I never dreamed his first voyage would be his last?
At 3:00 on Monday,
Abe passed away peacefully in his sleep."
How would he know Grampa was going to die today?
Unless he was going to kill him!
But would someone really kill a man
just to win a Pulitzer Prize?
(music plays dramatic sting)
(gasps)
All aboard the final run of the Tinseltown Starliner,
the last ride into a nostalgic past.
Anyone without a ticket will be beaten
by classic railroad bulls.
♪ Old Dan Tucker was a fine old man ♪
ALL: ♪ He washed his face in the frying pan ♪
♪ He combed his hair with a wagon wheel ♪
♪ And died of the toothache in his heel. ♪
You don't get a beatin' like this traveling by plane.
Ow!
I'm finally riding the Tinseltown Starliner.
I could die a happy man.
(grunts)
(panting)
(grunts)
D'oh!
Drink up, Abe.
Live each moment as if someone's about to kill you.
I mean, as if it's your last.
Sorry, my hearing aid's on the fritz.
The only word I heard was "kill."
(Homer whimpering)
Hey. Aah.
Look at that.
They've recreated the '30s.
Tent cities, failing banks.
No, those are real.
(mutters)
(whimpering)
Oh!
HOMER: Beware of Marshall Goldman!
What was that?
Um, an elephant on a circus train
bellowing for his mother.
Oh, I remember the first time
an elephant tried to eat me like a peanut.
I was on the set of a Warner Brothers cartoon.
Jack Warner came by and said...
(whimpering)
Hey, Slimu!
(yelling)
Huh?
(laughs)
Yeah, you'd better run!
-(loud mewing) -(gasps)
Sewer cats!
(yells)
(whimpering)
Larry?!
(grunting)
(yowling)
Larry, you saved my life!
You're the most wonderful stuffed lamb in the world.
I'm sorry about the mean things I said,
and we'll have the rest of the weekend to...
Whoa!
(grunts)
Huh?
Larry!
(sobbing)
Man, everybody loves this guy.
Give him my number.
I'll teach him things.
Things he can use.
(train whistle blows)
The older I get,
the more I like the taste of hot water.
(snoring)
(to "Here Comes the Bride") ♪ Here comes the prize ♪
♪ Pulitzer Prize ♪
♪ I'll finally be successful in my mother's eyes. ♪
A little lower...
A little lower.
Drop that pillow!
(yells)
It gets worse.
-Ow! -Yeah.
(grunts)
See you tomorrow at yoga.
Jane is sick, so Tricia's filling in.
As long as it's not a dude!
(both grunting)
(choking)
How can you stand up to this punishment?
I'm the toughest S.O.B. there is--
a biweekly human interest columnist.
And your father's gonna make me a fortune.
Pathetic old fool.
Maybe so, but I know how to play possum.
-(grunts) -Um...
(laughs)
(brakes squealing)
(groans)
So many hat boxes.
Dad, I don't have the right words
to say how I really feel about you,
but at least I know how to beat up a guy who does.
Well, at least you never tried to kill me.
Just with indifference.
You did good, kid.
This is for the shoeshine.
It's a ghost quarter,
but you'll be able to spend it pretty soon.
So, Grampa, you really saved Dad's life?
I sure did.
But why don't we let Homer tell the story?
Really? Me? You mean it?
I think you're ready for your first ramble.
Oh, I've been waiting for this day for so long.
The year is 1946.
In a war-torn world, a single flower blooms.
And that flower is an angry Japanese monster named Godzilla.
How am I doing, Dad?
I'm hanging on every word.
Fortunately, there was one man who could help--
Colonel Tom Parker.
The Colonel took this monster, cleaned him up
and put him onstage under the name
The Rolling Stones.
The first concert was a sellout
with many, many, many people eaten.
But those that survived raved about the undeniable harmonies
and brutally honest lyrics of what they had just seen.
And out of the wreckage of that concert,
crawled a woman, who would later give birth to me.
Not once but four times.
'Cause in those days, if they didn't like the way you looked,
they would send you back in to bake a little longer.
After four times, they just decided to cut off my tail.
But you can still see it... in the British Museum,
which, interestingly enough, is in France.
Not the France you're thinking of.
But a much better one, filled with palm trees and leprechauns.
But I digress. In fact, I used to be a professional digressor.
But I don't want to get off the tracks
so I'll tell you about the time I was a professional digressor.
The year was 2021,
and I had just returned from a brief vacation...
where I'd eaten more than my fill of tacos.
Not the tacos you're thinking of.
Did I ever tell you about the time I started Gracie Films?
Shh!
HOMER: Hey, shh yourself!
Enhanced by Fotokem