The Simpsons

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?

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.