-KODOS: You and your stupid makeup. -CHOIR: ♪ The Simpsons ♪
We missed Halloween!
(theme music playing)
D'oh!
-(tires screech) -(grunts)
Ooh!
(yawns)
Ah, ah, ah. I'd like to welcome
all of the principals from the Springfield School District,
including Skin-ner!
Wein-berg!
Sack-ett!
And Gwendolyn Hertz-feld-Mastroantonio!
We are here for the annual Dance of the Lemons,
where each of you gets to trade
-your worst teacher to another school. -(lemons groaning)
The union's happy, the parents are placated,
and only the children suffer.
MAN ON VIDEO: (whispers) Chalmskinn.
Behold your lemons!
Sociopathic child haters who are only teachers
because they got tenure after two short years.
That's mean!
You know what you are.
(Taser buzzing)
Uh, first lemon-- from Springfield Elementary,
going to West Springfield,
third grade teacher, Sticky-Fingers Stella.
Now, going to Springfield Elementary...
God have mercy.
Seymour, your new teacher is...
Everybody pray!
This is a public school.
I said pray!
Mr. Lassen is here.
No smoking.
So, Mr. Lassen,
you began your career at Shelbyville Prep.
It seems that certain wealthy parents
didn't like seeing their precious darlings duct-taped to the wall.
Mm-hmm. And then you entered the public system.
That's where I got this scar.
What scar?
Oh, I see you're left-handed.
So, that concludes my evaluation.
Enjoy fourth grade.
So, any dirt on the new teacher?
Is he stingy with the pumpkin stickers?
Does he have OCD? OCD? OCD?
I don't know, but in ten minutes,
I'm gonna have him kneeling before Zod.
In this example, I'm Zod.
(thumping)
When he opens the door...
That's kind of scary,
but it doesn't make me pee my pants.
-Hello. -(screams)
I'm Mr. Lassen.
-You mean Mr. Less-than? -(students giggle)
So, a comedian, are you?
I got a pretty solid ten minutes.
Well, I could do five minutes on your pathetic vest
and five minutes on your ugly buck teeth.
And I've got a whole HBO special's worth on your fat mama!
My mom can't afford to be fat-- she's an exotic dancer.
(chuckling) Oh!
And in what exotic location does she dance?
A Touch of Class. But the "C-L" fell off.
Son, there was never a "C-L."
I-I think I always knew that!
(sobbing)
Bart, this guy served two tours in middle school.
-Abort prank! -I will not.
Anything to delay a spelling test.
(thumping)
Looks like I've got a prankster on my hands.
(chuckles)
You know, son, school code says a student's hair
should be of uniform length.
-What are you gonna do to him? -Quiet... Smellson.
Smellson? I prayed no one would ever think of that!
(razor buzzing)
BART: Ay, caramba.
-How was your first day at school, Bart? -Terrible.
-You want to talk about it? -No.
Oh, thank you.
Why are you wearing your hat at dinner?
This new teacher I got gave me a haircut.
-Hmm? -A haircut? Let me see.
-No. -Come on. Please?
No, you'll laugh at me.
I won't laugh at you. Let's see.
(laughing)
Look at me. I'm Bart.
We're sorry.
(laughing)
Stop that, all of you.
It's not Bart's fault that his haircut
-looks so stupid. -(Homer giggles)
I didn't know that a teacher could cut kids' hair.
Teachers' union won the right in their last strike.
I'm going to go to that school and talk to that teacher.
Marge, please don't say anything.
It never makes a difference, and then the teachers give us stink-eye
during the school fairs.
Well, if he's gonna get a haircut,
Bart should at least have gotten a balloon with it.
-(groans) -(grumbles)
Well, anyway, Bart, you'll cheer up on our camping trip this weekend.
What camping trip?
The one you booked for us at Owl Haven.
The one you have to reserve a year in advance.
Oh, uh, you told me not to do it a year ago. Remember?
-I don't remember that. -You're right.
No one can be expected to remember something from a year ago.
Certainly not me. Pass the gravy.
(gasps) Don't tell me you didn't reserve a campsite.
Labor Day is next weekend. There'll be nothing left.
Hey, there's always room at Buzzard's Roost.
Excuse me, but Buzzard's Roost is a converted parking lot.
Excuse me, but grass is poking through.
-Why do I ever put you in charge... -LISA: Parking lot!
-...of the littlest thing? -HOMER: Poking through!
-(crying) -LISA: Parking lot!
-HOMER: Poking through! -My biggest sin is that I dare to hope.
(crying)
Oh, Marge, I can't stand it when you cry at dinner.
The pork chops look traumatized.
The mashed potatoes can't stand to watch.
Even the children seem upset.
So trust me, I will come through for you, baby.
Not you.
So what do you say, Marge?
I want so much to believe you.
And I want you to believe me, too.
Isn't it great how much we agree?
Looks like our blackboard has been defaced.
Lucky for you, I can take a joke.
(grunting)
Hello? Hello? Is everything okay?
MILHOUSE: Here's... Millie!
Excuse me, you ruined my report.
Fine. You got an "A."
LISA: Oh! Yippee! Fourth-grade "A"!
You might fool some people, El Barto, but not me.
(electrical buzzing)
Now we're gonna learn about electricity.
Hey, live wire. Come up here.
Touch the generator.
-Even I think this is too far. -Quiet, Smellson.
It's sticking.
(grunting)
I just need to get to 60%.
Milhouse, I'm gonna get back at Lassen.
Now, The Hobbit taught us that every dragon has a chink in its armor.
It also taught us that New Zealand's beautiful landscapes
and attractive tax credits add up to a filmmaker's paradise.
For more information, visit www.nzfilmhere.nz.
To find out Lassen's weakness, I hid a camera in the teachers' lounge.
(grunting)
Ach! Wrong order!
You seem lonely and kind of weird.
You left out "single."
Mind if I heat up some goulash?
Let's continue this online.
I've created a fake Ms. Hoover profile.
When Lassen friends her, we'll know everything about him.
I don't know, Bart.
You're lying about your identity?
That's against the terms and conditions.
We've all read the terms and conditions, Milhouse.
Look, I really need a campsite.
My wife is making sandwiches.
Sorry, reservations are a year in advance.
-What about Mosquito Cove? -Booked.
-Skunk Canyon? -Booked every year since 2003.
Ooh, how about the campsite where the guy in the hockey mask
-kills all the campers? -Sir, that's a movie.
Hello? Hello? This is Homer Simpson.
742 Evergreen Terrace.
Looking for a place for my kids and me.
And my pretty, pretty wife.
You know, alarm code 3679.
3679!
So I hear you're getting back at Lassen.
Maybe I am. So?
You got to do it, man. He preys on the weak.
Now, give me your lunch money.
-I'll take that. -(whimpers)
(cat screeches)
Here's Lassen's profile.
What the...
Tagged as Lassen?
(groans)
It says these were taken at Blazing Guy.
What's Blazing Guy?
Oh, that's convenient.
Helloha.
Do you want to make your home in a self-sustaining city
that only exists a few days a year?
One that combines nudity, dust storms,
children, and all-consuming fires?
Then you, my bro or brah,
are dreaming of Blazing Guy.
On the last day,
the chosen one, or Ignis,
sets fire to the giant wooden Guy
in a ritual dating back to 1986.
The Blazing Guy Council of Elders, in conjunction with Duraflame,
is very pleased to announce that this year's Ignis is Jack Lassen.
-(both gasp) -So if we go there with a camera
to film Lassen humiliating himself,
I'll get revenge for him making me into this.
(chuckles)
I was trying to even it out.
You're starting to look like your dad.
No.
I'm lucky. I look just like my mom.
(both grunting)
Gosh, that was a hard sleeping bag to roll up.
Those were your father's sweatpants.
(sighs) Marge, I have a confession to make about this trip.
(quietly) Dad, don't worry. I got you a place.
Hmm? Once again, I've been saved from any consequences.
It'll keep happening till one day
I create a mess so enormous it can't be cleaned up.
Thanks, boy.
♪ A-camping we will go ♪
♪ But where I still don't know ♪
♪ A place that's filled with sun and sand ♪
♪ A desert steampunk Disneyland ♪
♪ Keep expectations low ♪
♪ Swing low, sweet chariot ♪
Hmm.
(Homer laughs)
Homer Simpson, I love you.
Oh.
(gasps) A world of anarchic free expression.
Cars shaped like cupcakes!
BOTH: I'm home.
-(gasps) -No, no, no, don't blow me out, wise guy.
Not in the mood.
(groans)
I'm not sure this campground is family-friendly.
All camping is pointless.
You drive hundreds of miles to shower and sleep
in a place with no bathroom or bed.
I guess what I'm trying to say is where's Maggie?
(groans, screams)
We brought Cheerios for you.
Now, you know the wind does kick up here.
Hope you went three feet down with your tent stakes.
Uh, listen here, Desert Arnaz.
Homer Simpson knows how to pitch a tent.
Hey, man, can I bum a tent?
(groans)
You seem stressed. Have some calming tea.
Finally. A normal person.
Ah. Thank you, Miss, um...
Calypso Self-Knowledge.
Is that tea... adulterated?
Does that look like something I'd do?
HOMER: Hey, Marge.
We got a new tent from a guy who just O.D.'d.
Aw, let me get a picture of that.
-(alarm whooping) -(cell phone chimes)
BOTH: Aw.
I think Smitty's still inside.
Oh, too bad he's missing this.
So many musical choices.
A brass band.
Barbershop quintet?
The human kazoo.
Oh, a drum circle.
(rhythmic drumming)
(all playing)
Uh... can I help you, freak?
No.
(plays a sad tune)
BART: There he is.
(gasps) His nipples are asymmetrical.
This could ruin him.
Milhouse, everyone here is a total freak.
We have to find a way to completely humiliate Lassen.
Get a picture of a restaurant check with no tip,
put it online, say it was him.
Kaboom, he's finished.
Mmm.
Oh.
Suddenly this place doesn't seem so bad.
This place is great.
Just have to avoid these inseam-high cactuses.
Hup, hup.
D'oh!
Oh. Are you Mr. Clean?
(scoffs) Compared to the rest of these people, yeah.
So give the Tooth Fairy my forwarding address,
'cause it's pretty loose.
About time. It's the only phone.
You don't count.
Maybe we should just give up on Lassen.
No. This Ignis thing is the biggest deal of his life.
And I'm gonna wreck it. Because he scarred me forever.
Hey, it grew back. A little better, even.
-So full and lush. -Enough.
Mmm.
It's like someone ironed out all the wrinkles in my brain.
(gasps)
(upbeat tune playing)
(wind whistling)
Get in the tent.
D'oh!
Oh, you always save me, trombone elephant.
(imitates elephant)
BART: Hmm. Fire retardant?
If Lassen can't light that thing, he'll be humiliated.
What good is an Ignis who can't blaze the guy?
I'm scared, Bart.
And I am never scared.
(gasps)
Hideous.
(loud beeping)
These kids are gonna ruin the ceremony.
It's too bad I'm just an illusion.
Homie, you promised me an incredible camping trip,
and I got one.
Just like I planned.
You got very lucky this time.
-Don't push it. -I understand.
I already signed up for this place next year.
I gave my form and $200 cash to that dude.
D'oh!
(drums, saxophone, kazoo playing)
Ignis, approach the Burning Man.
I mean Blazing Guy.
(crowd groaning)
Get the job done.
You're not helping.
(crowd boos, hisses)
Strip him of his nudity.
(laughing)
-You. -(both gasp)
Maybe we won't have Blazing Guy, but we can still have...
Blazing Boy.
What, uh...
-(tooting) -(screaming)
Help me, desert weirdos.
(both gasp)
I'll take those.
Beware the butterfly's sting.
What the...
(creaks)
Form a human prison
and hold him for five days.
No. (grunts)
Wait, how many days?
(laughing)
Hey, listen, we should probably get home.
My dad forgot to bring water. (smacks tongue)
Whoa.
When will this tea get out of my system?
(upbeat tune playing)
Haw haw!
What the...
According to this file from Blazing Guy Secret Security,
your behavior was so egregious
we can do something that we've never done before--
-fire a teacher. -Hand in your red pen.
Oh. Not gonna pass fingernail inspection tonight.
So where do you go from here?
A place where my talents will be appreciated.
All right, lights out.
You, too, freak.
(groans)
You hate him, too?
With every fiber of what's left of my wretched soul.
We should team up. I can get you out of here.
A partner? Intriguing.
Who gets to gut him like a little pot-bellied salmon?
-I assumed we'd take turns. -No deal.
♪♪
-(crowd murmuring) -Shh.
Subtitled by Jimmy Boots