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Chief Wiggum, Archbishop McGee,|distinguished guests
I'm pleased to dedicate this|warning system.
In the off-chance of|a nuclear disaster
this sign will tell the good|citizens of Springfield what to do.
Joke's on them.
If the core explodes, there won't|be any power to light that sign.
I'd like to present the man|who made this sign possible
by dropping his obstructionist|legal challenges
Montgomery Burns.
He's never late.
Something's wrong.
Nobody leaves|"Diamond Joe" Quimby holding the bag!
Must turn over.
Got to greet dignitaries.
-Oh, no! We've got to get a doctor!|-Absolutely not!
No quack sawbones is going|to apply his leeches to me.
As long as there's an ounce|of strength left in me.
He's suffering from|what we call hypohemia.
It's a lack of blood.
Damn it, I know what it is!|What can we do about it?
-Our only hope is a transfusion.
|-How long to sterilize a needle?
-Seconds.
|-Skip it.
Just leave me enough to get home.
It's not that simple.
His blood is double O-negative.
|It's rare.
I'm B-positive.
|Damn this gutter blood!
Smithers, don't feel so bad.
After all, that kidney you|donated to me really hit the spot.
Attention, all employees.
Our boss and inspiration,|Mr.
Burns
is at death's door.
If you have double O-negative blood,|please report to the bloodmobile.
That is all.
-I'd give, except for one thing.
|-What?
I don't wanna.
I can't believe you guys.
There's a wealthy human being|who needs our help.
You don't wanna cash in?
That's why you losers are|stuck in this crummy job.
-I'm your supervisor.
|-Sorry, sir.
Maggie, look.
What's that?
Lemur.
Lemur.
Zebu.
Zebu.
-What are you doing?|-Teaching Maggie about nature.
She needs the advantages|I didn't have.
Lisa, we did the best we|could.
What's a zebu?
An ox with a|hump and a dewlap.
Hump and dewlap.
|Hump and dewlap.
-What's my blood type?|-A-positive.
Nuts! Rare blood|and I don't have it.
You know his blood type?|How romantic!
A mother knows everything.
-My shoe size?|-4-B.
-How many teeth do I have?|-Sixteen.
-Ring?|-Don't wear them.
But three.
-Allergies?|-Butterscotch.
And?
-Monster makeup.
|-Impressive.
-How many hairs on my head?|-Homie, you have lots of hair.
-Why do you need your blood type?|-Burns may die.
He needs double O-negative|blood.
No one has it.
-Bart does.
|-Yes! All right!
Congratulations!|You've got a date with a needle!
I don't have to give blood.
|I have rights.
-Yeah, the right to remain silent.
|-You must help those in need.
-It's the only decent thing to do.
|-D'oh!
It's not like I'm asking you|to give blood for free.
That would be crazy!
When you save a rich man's life,|he showers you with riches.
-You know "Hercules and the Lion"?|-Is it a Bible story?
Probably.
|Once upon a time
there was a big, mean lion|who got a thorn in his paw.
Everyone tried to pull it out|but nobody was strong enough.
They got Hercules.
And Hercules used his|mighty strength, and bingo!
The moral is,|the lion was so happy
he gave Hercules this|big thing of riches.
-How did a lion get rich?|-It was the olden days!
Hey, let's go! Emergency!|Life or death here!
-Just a sec!|-Otto-man! You work here?
All my friends are in school
so I got a job as a|bloodletting tech-dude!
-Let's get this show on the road.
|-Okay.
Let me wash up.
Homer.
Brave, young Bart.
-I don't know which one to hug first.
|-The boy.
-We're ready with the transfusion.
|-I'm not going to make it.
I want to dictate my epitaph.
-Go ahead.
|-Charles Montgomery Burns:
American
and patriot.
|American patriot.
Master of the atom
scourge of the despot.
O, tyrant, hear his|mighty name and quake!
Smithers, I'm back!
Top of the morning to ye!
Why, look who's here!|It's good old you!
Hi, Mr.
Burns.
Hey, there, Mr.
Brown Shoes.
How about that local|sports team, huh?
Mr.
Burns.
He's okay.
|Jackpot!
Well, that's game.
|Hasta ma�ana, Osvaldo.
I'm back in the pink!|Full of pith and vinegar!
-Just remarkable, sir.
|-You know, it's funny.
I tried every tincture, poultice,|tonic and medicine there is.
And all I really needed was|the blood of a young boy.
-What was the lad's name?|-Bart Simpson.
-Who?|-The son of Homer, a stiff in 7-G.
The Simpsons will be getting a|very nice surprise in the mail.
Very nice, indeed.
Bill.
Bill.
|Summons.
Bill.
Wait a minute.
|From C.
M.
Burns.
This is it.
Yes, this is it!
Bart! Lisa! Maggie!|Let's do this out in the yard!
Dim the lights.
|Turn them on.
Do something!
Yes, Dad.
It's thin, but that's okay.
|Could be a check.
There's no check, just a card.
|Don't panic.
I'm sure it tells us what|we'll get and where to pick it up.
Dear Bart, thank you kindly for the|blood.
Yours truly, Montgomery Burns.
D'oh! It's just a card!
Is that some way to show your|gratitude? No gold, no diamonds.
No rubies, not even a lousy card!
Wait, there was a card.
|That's what got me so mad!
You don't do these things to be|rewarded.
You do it to help someone.
You're my wife|and I love you very much
but you're living|in a world of make-believe.
With bells and magic frogs|with funny hats.
-We got hosed.
|-Bart!
We got exactly what we wanted.
|We gave an old man a second chance.
I promised my boy one simple thing:|lots of riches.
And that man broke my promise!|I've had it!
Bart, take a letter!|Dear Mr.
Burns
I'm so glad you enjoyed|my son's blood.
And your card was just great.
In case you can't tell,|I'm being sarcastic.
You stink!
-Read that last part back to me.
|-"You stink!"
Good.
You are a senile,|bucktoothed old mummy
with bony girl arms|and you smell like.
-An elephant's butt?|-An elephant's butt.
-He's your boss.
You have to mail it?|-Yep.
-Why don't you sleep on it?|-Forget it.
Please, Homie.
For me.
Oh, all right.
You always do that hand thing.
|And it usually works.
Cheap son of a.
Homer, breakfast is ready.
Marge, you saved me|from making a big mistake.
I finally understand|the meaning of.
-Of what?|-Better half.
-Thank you.
|-Where's the letter?
Where is it?
I don't think it is in the|cornstarch canister.
It's somewhere.
|It didn't just get up and walk away.
-Seen the letter?|-Yep.
Think very carefully.
Where did you see it last?
The last place I saw it
-was in my hand|-Yeah?
as I was shoving it|into the mailbox.
D'oh!
Why did you do that?
There were things that had|to be said.
And I know you.
There was no guarantee|you'd still be mad this morning.
I'll show you mad in the morning!
Homer, you encouraged him.
|You should be strangling yourself!
She's right.
Don't panic.
They don't|pick up the mail till noon.
There's still time!
-Give it up.
It's locked up tight.
|-Locked, eh?
I might have a little surprise|up my sleeve
for old Mr.
Lock.
|Step aside, boy.
Hey! I'm with you, Homer.
|Fight the power!
-Why the hose?|-Why do you think?
I'll get it so the ink|will run and no one can read it.
-But don't other people have mail?|-So they won't get letters.
You know the letters people write.
|"Dear somebody
how is so-and-so?|Blah, blah, blah.
Yours truly, Some Bozo.
"|Big loss.
Look out for the mailman.
|Give me a signal.
-Mailman's here.
|-We'll use that.
No, I mean the mailman's here!
God! Are you planning|to water the mail?
It wouldn't do any good to run|because you know my name, right?
-That's right.
|-Well, I'm still gonna run!
I want the whole world to hear the|story of my struggle with hypohemia.
Roman is the finest ghostwriter.
|He's written Like Hell I Can't.
Up from the Muck.
|The Unsinkable Sadruddin Mahabaradad.
All right.
First question:|Have you slept with anyone famous?
Countess von Zeppelin and l--|What in blaze--?
Listen to me, you bargain-basement|Baudelaire!
I'm not a starlet who can't|string two words together.
I can write this thing myself!|You're fired!
Hello.
My name is Mr.
Burns.
-I believe you have a letter for me.
|-What's your first name?
I don't know.
Great plan, Bart.
Oh, look, Maggie! What is that?
Dodecahedron! Dodecahedron!
I don't know what you're doing|but your father's trying to worry.
"Chapter the Fifth.
"
The trip to the infirmary|with most unexpected results.
Twenty-eight minutes till Burns comes.
|Time for Operation Mail-Take.
Can I help you?
Don't be frightened.
|It's a letter opener.
Who are you?
Give a fake name.
Homer Simpson.
Simpson, eh? Simpson!
Why, there's a letter from you.
|I'll read it right now.
"Mr.
Burns, I'm glad you|enjoyed my son's blood.
And your card was just great.
"
Why, Simpson!
You've made my day.
|You're a true gentleman.
-Well, I'll be on my way.
|-Hello, there's more.
"In case you can't tell,|I'm being sarcastic.
You stink! You're a senile,|bucktoothed mummy
with bony girl arms.
And you|smell like an elephant's butt!"
Come on, Joey.
|You have to twist my arm?
I don't tell you|how to do your job, okay?
I could crush him like an ant.
|But it would be easy.
No, revenge is a dish|best served cold.
I'll bide my time until.
What the hell,|I'll just crush him.
Senile, eh?|Bucktoothed, am I?
Bony arms, are they?|Liver spots, did I?
-Shameless, will you?|-His pink slip for you to sign.
Now that's odd.
I've just robbed a man of his|livelihood and yet I feel empty.
Tell you what,|have him beaten to a pulp!
-But--|-What?!
Nothing, sir.
I've never seen him this mad,|and he's always kind of mad.
-Me and my big letter-writing pen.
|-What's done is done.
No matter what,|we'll pull through.
You can move in with your sisters|and raise the kids and I'll
die in a gutter.
It's practical|and within our means.
They said I'd destroy the family.
|I never believed it.
Nobody believed it.
|We were just trying to scare you.
-You know Homer Simpson?|-Yeah, nice guy.
Play poker with him.
-Beat him up.
|-You got it.
-Wait.
|-What is it?
-Nothing.
Wait.
|-What?
Beat, but
-don't kick.
|-Got it.
-Wait.
|-What?
-What did Homie do anyway?|-He saved Mr.
Burns' life.
In closing, I'd like to thank you.
|"What's that?" you say.
"Me, thanking you?"|No, it's not a misprint.
I enjoyed writing this book|as much as you enjoyed reading it.
The End.
-Smithers.
How'd the beating go?|-Sir-- There was no beating.
-That's a hell of a thing! Why?|-Because l--
-I called it off.
|-Judas!
I'm sorry.
|But I just couldn't hurt Homer.
-He saved you.
|-I see.
I know you're mad.
I'm gonna|stand outside until you forgive me.
No need, Smithers.
You've been the sober ying|to my raging yang.
Put her there, old pal.
I wish this handshake would|never end, but we still have
-the Simpson matter to attend to.
|-We do indeed, old friend.
We do.
-Moe's Tavern.
|-Is Mike there? Last name, Rotch.
Hold on, I'll check.
|Mike Rotch! Mike Rotch!
Hey, has anybody seen|Mike Rotch lately?
One of these days,|I'm gonna catch you
and carve my name|on your back with an ice pick.
What's up?|You're not your normal self.
I got my problems.
|Give me another one.
Don't drink|to forget your problems.
Yeah.
You should only drink|to enhance your social skills.
We'll get the Simpsons|an extravagant present.
An unthinkable,|utterly impossible present!
A frabulous, grabulous,|zip-zoop-zabulous present!
Too practical.
Too cutesy.
Too cornball.
A pool table? I'm not going to|turn his home into a saloon.
-Eureka! We've found it!|-But, sir, it's $32,000!
Don't you dare sully this moment|with your price-taggery.
It's perfect.
Oh, woe is me.
Oh, my!|It's Mr.
Burns.
Heave, ho! Heave, ho!|Heave, ho!
Wait, Dad, he's smiling.
-You brought us a present!|-What did you think I was gonna do?
Have you beaten to a bloody pulp?
To show there's no hard feelings,|here's a copy of my book:
Will There Ever Be a Rainbow?
I haven't forgotten you.
Here.
-Wow! A crowbar!|-It's to open the crate, stupid.
What did I tell you? I bet it's|filled with rubies, sapphire, pearls.
-Wow! A big, ugly head!|-D'oh!
Actually, it's a big, ugly|Olmec Indian head.
It was carved by Mesoamerican|Indians 3000 years ago.
This gruesome customer is|Xtapolapocetl, the god of war.
Awesome!
No, Maggie, not Aztec.
Olmec.
|Olmec.
-What does it do?|-Nothing.
-Really, what does it do?|-Whatever it does, it's doing it now.
I'll let you get acquainted with|Seor Xtapolapocetl.
Ta.
-Did you see their faces?|-You're my god of generosity.
Save a guy's life and|what do you get? Nothing.
Worse than nothing.
|Just a big, scary rock.
-Don't badmouth the head.
|-It's the thought that counts.
The moral is,|a good deed is its own reward.
-We got a reward.
The head is cool.
|-Well, then.
I guess the moral is,|no good deed goes unrewarded.
Wait a minute.
|If I hadn't written that letter
-we would've gotten nothing.
|-Well.
The moral is, the squeaky|wheel gets the grease.
-Perhaps there is no moral.
|-Exactly! Just stuff that happened.
-But it was a memorable few days.
|-Amen to that!