All language subtitles for The.Simpsons.S37E16.Extreme.Makeover.Homer.Edition.1080p.HEVC.x265-MeGusta[EZTVx.to]_track3_[und]

♪ The Simpsons ♪

Ha-ha!

There's a cold spill on aisle three.

Whoa!

Ooh!

Ooh!

Mmm! Art.

What am I going to wear?

What am I going to wear?

Hmm. Too casual. Too dressy.

Too bangin'.

Not bangin' enough.

Maggie spit up on this one.

Homer spit up on this one.

Oh, my God.

Homie, it's 7:06.

Where's the sitter?

She'll be here, don't worry.

We're not gonna be late
to our fun date night

with my work friends
and their current lovers.

Okay, I'll be right down.

I still have to find something to wear.

The best part of being a man is not caring
how you look and dying six years earlier.

So wait, you're really
having date night at Clangerz?

That's a lame nostalgia bar
for you voicemail-leaving dinosaurs.

Hey, how about a little respect?

Unlike you pasty Chalamets,
my generation faced real challenges.

We stormed the beaches
of MTV's spring break in Cancún

to taste test
different sodas in the Cola Wars.

I chose Pepsi,

and I regret it every day of my life.

I give up.

Jean jacket.

It's 7:09.

Now the sitter's 03 minutes later.

Honey, no one's more excited
than I am to meet up with Carl

and Naima and Lenny and whatever bizarre
creature is crazy enough to date him.

You go on ahead.
I'll wait here for the sitter.

Go without you?

But then I'd have to carry on
a conversation with your work friends.

You'll do great.
Just get Carl started on Bitcoin.

- You know all about crypto, right?
- Superman's dog?

Okay, other good Lenny-Carl areas:
If Squid Game was real,

CPAP cleaning hacks, and why
the next James Bond should be Jason Kelce.

Okay, Marge, you can do this.

Just don't talk about money,
politics, or sex.

Hey, Marge.

Republican tax cuts make me horny!

It's officially date night at Clangerz.

Hiya, Marge.

Hi, Lenny. And you must be Amy.

That's what it says on my Starbucks cup.

If I'm lucky.
Most of the time it says "Arnie."

Coffee people do write the wrong name.

Once on my cup they wrote "Sarge."

I did an add-on. I'm fitting in.

Oh, where's that dirtbag teen
I'm entrusting with my children?

Maybe if I pace faster, I--

Ooh! She's here!

Thanks, pacing.

Oh, thank God you're-- injured!

Don't stress. I'm good.

They gave me all the painkillers.

And I've got some extra for the kids.

Oh, we were making
a jump-off-the-balcony video

when she fell off the balcony.

The TikTok of me landing on
a cornhole board got a like from Josh Gad.

Oh, babe, you're so talented.

They call them boneless wings,
but they're just tiny tenders.

Who do they think they're fooling?

Not Sarge.

"Sarge."

Callback.

This is such fun restaurant banter,

like the beginning of a sketch
on Saturday Night Live

before all the wacky behavior
ruins their nice evening.

Care for a free Aperol spritz

courtesy of me, Aperol Fritz?

- Yes!
- Oh, yes, bring it on.

As God is my witness, I will find

some sad loser to watch my kids.

You have reached
the mobile cellular device

of Principal Seymour Skinner.

Voicemail.

No, no, this is he speaking live.

Oh, my God, Skinner, you run a kid prison.

Come babysit my jerks.

My dad isn't talking to me,
the yes-guy said no,

Mrs. Botz is still in jail, and Flanders
is too busy working on his car.

Actually, my car's working on me.

There's a leaf spring in my kidney.

Well, take care of those organs.
I might need them later.

Okily dokily, passing out now.

Come on, Skinner,
I'll match your school salary.

What do you make, $5 an hour?

Mr. Simpson,
I am an educator, not a babysitter.

I would never stoop that low.

Principal Sitter, wipe me!

I guess you're the babysitter, big boy.

I wanna hear three chapters
of Anne of Green Gables

with authentic
Prince Edward Island accents.

By the time
I get to the restaurant,

all the dipping sauces
will be full of nugget crumbs.

Who's gonna watch these kids?

Oh! What if the who was a what
and the when was right in front of me?

Kids, meet your new babysitter:
Mrs. Front Door Cam.

All you have to do is stay in this frame.

Daddy will be watching,
even if he's driving,

and just to make sure
Bart is a good little boy...

Get bent.

I'm not some stupid dog. I'm--

Have a nice night. Daddy loves you.

Ah! Down, down, stay.

This might be a hot take,
but I wish the Olympics were every week.

That's genius.
No way you'd get bored of that.

It would bring the world together.

Goodbye, wars.

And the movie theater should tell you
when the movie really starts,

not when the previews start.

- Yeah.
- I agree wholeheartedly.

I love your hot takes, Marge.
Keep 'em coming.

Okay, here's a scorcher: masking tape--

The real fun begins now!

- Homer!
- Big guy!

- Hello.
- Good to see you!

Homie, this is going great.

I don't know why I was worried
I'd be bad at conversation.

Everything's flowing so freely, and--

Hey, that's great.

I got it from here.

So, work bros, I think Smitty
cheated on his March Madness bracket.

He just wrote a U with a scribble,

so you can't tell
if he's picking UConn or UTEP.

And I'm all like, "Which is it, Smitty?

Miners or Huskies?

Miners or Huskies?"

Homer, please,
there's three other people here.

Right, right, right.

Who do you ladies like
for WrestleMania this year?

So, Homer,
the group was having a discussion

about things that interest all of us.

Amy found this amazing podcast

where comedians talk to each other
for hours but don't tell any jokes.

In the latest one,
Gabriel "Fluffy" Iglesias

talks about the bus crash
that traumatized--

Cut that out and shut up!

When I leave you in porch jail,
I expect you to sit there and be bored.

The sprinkler came on.
What are we supposed to do?

Just stomp it back
in the earth like everyone else.

Who are you talking to?

Um...

My crotchel area?

You left the kids unsupervised?

No, no, the doorbell's watching them.
It's very responsible.

And I gave Lisa a brick
to hit strangers with.

- It's heavy!
- That means it's working.

I had to use rusty scissors to get
the stupid shock collar off my neck.

You used my good rusty scissors?

They better still be rusty
when I get home!

Sometimes I hate being married to you!

I shouldn't have
raised my voice like that.

Just go home and take care of the kids.

One Centipede?

Zero Centipedes! Go!

Okay, okay, okay.

Sarge?

Oh, this night was going great,

and then you had to see that.

Sorry I made it so awkward.

No.

Not awkward.

Not awkward at all.

Here, have mine too. Double up.

Thanks.

I guess you noticed Homer
isn't the perfect husband.

Please don't get me wrong.
I love Homer dearly, but he's got flaws.

Crippling, unignorable flaws.

Sometimes I wish
he was different,

a Homer who doesn't fold under pressure

and make terrible decisions,

someone who is bold and fearless.

Like, I don't know,
a fighter pilot in that game.

If only, if only.

Woo-hoo!

I feel the need,
the need to go really fast.

Primo ace top jet squadron, check in.

- Belch.
- Quadball.

Open Sore.

Let's show this town a meaningless
training flight they'll never forget.

♪ Flying fast and flying low
Flying where you're not supposed to go ♪

♪ Facing your foes
In the deadly sky ♪

♪ Make one wrong move
And you'll super die ♪

That dude is brave to the max.

All right, Simpson,
you've broken the sound barrier.

Now pull up.

Sorry, Cap,
not till I break the smell barrier.

A colonic boom.

Oh! That's the odor
from a week from now. Ugh!

It was great being your wingman, Homer.

Hey, let my dog out of the car.

It's the blue Honda.

Tower, I'm going down.

Order me a new plane,
this time with a cup holder.

That man's heroism is out of control.

Another successful mission.

♪ Riding the ground version of a jet ♪

♪ To really get the point across ♪

You ruined a $70 million aircraft,

and your wingman crashed
into Mount Springfield.

He knew the deal when he got drafted.

Simpson, I am ordering you
to undergo psychological evaluation

to determine the source
of this reckless behavior.

Go ahead, sic a shrink on me.

When that dude looks inside my head,

whoever he is,
that man won't find a thing.

You tell that male doctor
with his prominent Adam's apple

and hairy boobless chest to go
pound sand with his big masculine fists.

Why don't you tell me yourself?

That's some control tower
you got up there.

And it spotted a pilot in distress.

I'm going to get to the root cause
of your dangerous fearlessness,

and help you get rid of it
once and for all.

Well, it's a pretty tall order,
little lady.

Tell you what, Doc,
you can dig into my brain,

but we'll do it my way on the fly.

See if you can keep up.

Try me, mister.

♪ Therapy at the speed of tears ♪

♪ Breakthroughs that normally take years ♪

♪ Analyze fast so the trauma can't hide ♪

♪ Forgive the child inside ♪

You seek out danger. Why?

Danger is a me-seeking missile,
and I face it head on. No fear.

I think you do have a fear,
a fear of being afraid.

You're right. Fear scares me too much.

Because of my stupid fear of fear,
I lost every one of my wingmen.

I'm responsible for so many wing widows.

Then I have to do a flyover at
the funeral, and I lose another wingman.

It's a vicious cycle.

I guess I don't have a shot
with you now, right?

A man showing vulnerability
is the biggest turnoff to women.

Try me, mister.

♪ Crying during sex ♪

♪ Crying during sex ♪

You cured me.

I finally conquered my fearlessness.

Betraying my professional code
of ethics has never felt so good.

Simpson, thank God you're here.

America's greatest enemy
is preparing to attack.

- Who? China?
- No, not China.

Oh, God, no. Not China.

- Russia.
- No, not Russia either. No.

North Korea?

Stop naming real countries.

Now your target
is the weapons-grade nuclear reactor

recently discovered
in a heavily-fortified slot canyon

in the rogue nation of Nonexististan.

Only America should be able
to wipe out all life on Earth.

Yes, well put, Urine Test.

Our only chance is a precision strike

fired while executing a corkscrew
maneuver called the coffin roll.

Bold Eagle, this is the kind of insane
off-the-charts stunt you were born for.

Can we count on you?

Admiral, I conquered my fear of fear,
and now I'm not afraid to be afraid.

I can't do the coffin roll.

I might die!

Even the name is scary.

That dude is cowardly to the max.

You fixed him. Now un-fix him back.

Homer, stop.

Brand-new love interest.

I cured your fearlessness,

but your country needs you
to get it back for one last mission.

Get in that cockpit.

I'll be with you all the way.

And then more sex crying?

You better believe it, mister.

Okay, I'll try.

Uppies!

Top jet squadron, report.

Hammer Toe.

Wheat Allergy.

Cameo.

Unsure Guy.

Homer, I said I'd be here with you.
I meant that.

Is this mid-air-apy?

Unload your feelings

and your infrared guided
AIM-9X Sidewinder missiles.

I'm fearless again.

You uncured the cure you cured before.

Now get up there and go kill
our purposefully vague enemies.

Bogies, squadron,
initiate attack pattern GLC.

That's Gabo Love-Tester Cromulent.

But I'm too famous to die!

Target acquired.

Engaging coffin roll.

You'll never survive it
with your plane in that shape.

It's suicide.

Wrong, it's them-icide.

You did it, Homer.

Thanks to you, the best wingman I ever--

Oh, no. All my wingmen tragically die.

Oh, yeah, you said that.

Nonexististan!

Oh, good, you're back.

You've been staring into your drink
and drooling for the last eight minutes.

Well, kids, just like American democracy,
my stupid experiment has failed,

so I'll have to be your babysitter.

Now, to let you watch TV all night

while I go through
your parents' medicine cabinet.

Oh, I left my house keys
back at the restaurant.

They're in my summer windbreaker.

Now we're stuck out here.

What if it gets windy
and I have nothing to break it?

How did you drive here
without your car keys?

I start my car with a screwdriver ever
since I lost the keys in my fall peacoat.

Dad, calm down.

Mom hid a backup key
inside this fake rock.

Great, now we can get in.

No, you idiot, the key was in the rock.

I'm not a geologist.

You're Homer's best pals.

Tell me something.

What's his whole deal?

Uh... good provider.

Uh, go-getter.

You're just saying that
because you're his friends with benefits.

You know, because you're all
on the same health and pension plan.

This round's on me.

What? I just paid this month's bill.

Homer spent $3,000
on a vintage Centipede arcade game.

Hurry it up, guys.
The chump sprung for one-hour shipping.

Why can't I have
a normal, responsible husband?

Like they used to have
in those movies from the '50s

with businessmen played by Rock Hudson.

Now there was a man's man.

So steady, so safe, so conventional.

In conclusion, gentlemen,

I hope you'll consider
implementing my proposed

ashtray expansion program.

In my view, it will achieve uninterrupted
desk-side smoking

while decreasing
costly ash disposal disruptions,

providing significant improvements
efficiency-wise,

profit-wise, and conformity-wise,

and it's backed by our best numbers man.

Fiscal Stu forecasts growth
in quarter two.

Top-notch work, Simpson.

You're a vital part of this company.

Thank you, sir.

Now go back to the anonymous junior
executive floor and resume toiling.

Dynamite presentation today, Simpson.

There may be an opening for
an executive position in optimization.

Optimization?

Ooh, that's a world of difference
from efficiency.

Don't you want this?

I thought you had lead in your pencil,

whiskey in your coffee,
sand in your hula hoop.

I have all those things in those things,
metaphor-wise.

That's very wise, wise-wise.

Play your cards right
and you'll get one of these.

The key to the executive washroom.

You'll be getting your shoes shined while
sitting in a marble-lined toilet stall.

A seat as cold as ice
and a flush as loud as thunder.

You can seal the deal with the big boss
at his country club party tomorrow.

This could be the most
pivotal moment of your life.

I did survive Normandy.

We would have won without you.

Hey, buddy boy, still amalgamating
those components

at Amalgamated Components?

You're mopping up
some pretty chunky gravy, huh?

Ha! I bet you're making 7,000 a year.

Well, accuracy-wise, 7,2.

Whoa. That gravy is
some pretty serious cheddar.

You got the world by the tail, unlike me.

Next stop, Cheeverton.

As you disembark,

please take a moment to contemplate
how the post-war dream of prosperity

has curdled into an empty spiritual hole
at the center of your existence

that you fill with alcohol
and loveless casual affairs.

Well, good riding with you, Homer.

Keep providing for that
beautiful wife and kids.

I'm going to swim home now.

Pool to pool.

Yahoo.

Hello, dear.

Who was that you were talking to?

Poor, sad Kirk Van Houten.

I feel bad for that guy.

Swimming to an empty house every night.

Who could find a strapping
athletic loner like that attractive?

- Hi, Daddy.
- Hi, Daddy.

My boys, Dirk and Birk.

We're going to that party, of course.

You want that promotion, don't you?

Well, it would be nice to move up,
cost-of-living wise,

but then again,
I've only been at the company ten years.

Tell us again about
the executive washroom, Papa.

How big is the urinal trough?

No trough, boys.

- Golly.
- What a life.

It's settled. We are going to that party

and you are getting that promotion.

This family's going to move up
in the world,

even if it means you have
to work late in the city

and never spend a night in our bed again.

Sleep well, my morose alcoholic stallion.

There's the big boss.

Here's your chance to prove
your manhood by debasing yourself.

Grovel, Homer.

Grovel like the wind.

I'll do it.

I just need a drink.

Um, I'll have a now fashioned.

What's eating at you, daddy-o?

You're sweating
like Dalton Trumbo reading the blacklist.

I'm supposed to talk to the boss
about getting a promotion.

It's everything I want in this life.

Really? That's what you want?

To be a soulless cog
in the capitalist machine?

Just another yes-man
in a world full of yes-men?

- Yes.
- Yes.

- Yes.
- Yes.

- Yes.
- Yes.

Uh, yes?

No, that's not for you.

You don't want that sad, sad life.

Three-martini lunch,
six-martini drive home.

All so you can keel over
with your face in an ashtray

while working late
on the Henderson account.

You're a little presumptuous
for a bartender and/or female.

I only sling sidecars to keep me
in bread and bongos.

I'm an artist.

This drawing captures my soul.

I never thought a cocktail napkin
could be so devastating.

D'oh. I don't want this empty life,
but I'm trapped.

Tell you what, my tip jar's full.

Let's get out of here.

Those fountainheads and pocket squares
will never know you're gone.

- Yes! Yes!
- Yes! Yes!

And where we're going,
every neck is turtled.

Don't you feel like this great
cosmic energy is pushing us together?

Like, yeah.

Like, I never felt,
like, this free before.

I never thought I'd use
this many "likes" in a sentence.

I, like, think, like, I'm in, like,
love, like, with, like, you, like.

You're a poet.

Let's run away together to California.

I'll like do it.

The bus leaves
Cheeverton Station in two hours.

I love you, artistic bartender chick.

I love you, mindless capitalist stooge.

Going somewhere?

Uh, well, you see, I was...

I'll tell you where you're going:
up the ladder.

While you ran off God knows where,
in God knows what animation style,

I did your job and buttered up your boss.

The promotion?

That's right, Mr. Senior Junior
Assistant Vice President for Optimization.

♪ A hoping time, a time for hopeful hope ♪

♪ A feeling warm and vague
Like when you need a nap ♪

♪ Might-have-beens and should-have-dones ♪

♪ We grieve all of our choices ♪

♪ With sad and mournful voices ♪

Is there something wrong, sir?

Just keep shining.

Oh, that was so sad,
but all those driveways were spotless.

I think I'm too drunk
to interpret meaning.

Oh, no, what disaster is Homer up to now?

Dad, you're not going to reach
the doorknob through the mail slot.

Yes, I will.

This is the arm that
liberated a thousand Snickers

and one accidental bag of apple chips.

Hey, Dad, I have a great idea.

I'm gonna pour all this birdseed
down your butt crack.

How is that a great idea?

Hey, squirrel, that's not for you.

You son of a gun!

You... You...

I'm gonna get you!

Why is Homer so broken?

Oh! I'm sorry.

Is there maybe
a trauma of his you're ignoring?

Don't give me the head tilt.

You know, landing Lenny does not
make you a relationship expert.

He fakes eye injuries to avoid intimacy.

That's not true, is it, lover?

Uh...

Ah! My eye. Gotta go for three weeks.

Oh, and what's Lenny's trauma?

Don't worry,
I won't ruin the rest of your date.

Couples night over.

Auf Wiedersehen,
imaginary cocktail leprechaun.

I am real. I exist.

Mmm, my name is Steve.

I can't do this.

Just take me someplace where people
can wallow in their lowest moment

with zero chance of being judged.

Yeah, yeah, one low-moment
wallow coming up.

It looks like an Aperol spritz.

It's vodka and rust.

Moe, for the first time
in my entire married life,

I didn't want to enter my own home.

Whoa. I guess Homer did something
really bad this time.

Well, he's done worse.

It's just that over time,
it builds up like fuzz in a lint trap

until one day, you get home
and your whole damn dryer is on fire.

I just keep wondering what it would be
like to be married to a different Homer.

Maybe one who wasn't so full of rage,

who could go through life
with a smile on his face.

Great. Well, just keep staring
into your drink.

Maybe something will happen.

Hmm. A smile on his face.

The mood tonight
in Darkham City remains relentlessly grim.

Darkham continues to suffer
from a deep oppressive decay,

almost plagiarizingly reminiscent
of an early Scorsese film.

There's a simmering chaos
ready to boil over.

Who knows what derivative spark
will set the city aflame.

And now it's time for the late-evening
program with Krusty the Clown.

Hey, hey.

So the sanitation strike
is in its 5th month.

The trash is piled so high
in the street corners,

if I want to get a hooker,
I have to hire a Sherpa.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,
Krusty's still got it, right, Dad?

You're the only one that laughs
at that degenerate clown.

Krusty helps me forget my troubles.

What troubles have you got to forget?

Now rinse me off
with our only broth ladle.

Good news.

Social services set me up
with my dream job,

one where my...

...condition won't get in the...
...way.

Oh! Suddenly, someone's too good
to wash his daddy all day.

Now sponge some soup into my mouth.

Whoa! Cover yourself, starvy Keitel.

Okay, clowns and clownettes,

when you work
those birthday parties and discount sales,

remember, you are not Krusty,

nor are you affiliated
with the Krusty brand.

You are his unlicensed friend, Krummy.

So what is our motto?

- No lawsuits.
- No lawsuits.

That's the Krummy spirit.

Don't send this guy
to the preschool graduation.

I'm good at this.

Maybe my life will be
more than just a bathtub of filthy soup.

D'oh.

D'oh.

D'oh.

Ha-ha!

Hey, swizzle stick,
are you laughing at me?

D'oh. D'oh. D'oh.

This dude has a condition.

Now it seems kind of messed-up
to stomp him.

Yeah, you're right.

Yeah, thanks for making us
feel bad about ourselves, jerk.

D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh.

D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. Woo-hoo!

D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh.

D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh.

D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh.

D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh.
D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh.

D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. Ah!

Last night, one
of my biggest fans was brutally attacked

on the streets of Darkham.

Krusty.

He was stomped and beaten
and thrown down Origin Story stairs,

all because he was
dressed like little old me.

Krusty loves me.

It was a senseless, brutal crime

committed by my four hilarious guests,
the Stomp Brothers!

D'oh.

You guys really revolutionized comedy

with the way you beat
the crap out of that loser.

Roll the tape.

D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh.

D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh.
D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh.

D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh.
D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh. D'oh.

Why, Krusty?

Why?

Because it's hilarious.

How come you're not laughing,
Bones McGee?

You're not funny.

Nothing's funny.

Society's not funny.

I'm the stomper now.

What in tarnation?

I'm free.

Nothing's gonna knock me down.

D'oh. D'oh.

D'oh. D'oh. D'oh.

Oh, this bleak, disgusting world
just got sad.

I know you. You're Homer.

A beautiful lunatic knows my name?

Everybody knows you.

The whole city
saw what you did to that rich guy.

Everyone is on your side
in your fight against authority.

You're not just infamous.

You're famous. Look.

Hey!

Do they want to stomp me?

No, they want to be you.

This crowd of clown celebrators
or clowncels

have gathered in support of the vigilante

who struck a blow
against systemic injustice

by murdering a rich man
who was donating money to the hospital.

They have dubbed
their new hero the D'ohker.

Thanks for making me feel seen
and feared, D'ohker.

Snuffman is ready to unleash
his toxic male rage.

D'oh-yah!

D'ohker, D'ohker!

Those angry maniacs
will follow you anywhere.

They're ready to die for your cause.

I don't have a cause.

Yes, you do.

You're getting back at everyone that
hurt you in this whole rotten society,

and you're going to do it with a smile.

Come here.

Now you do me.

Your adoring fans await.

Let's not disappoint them.

This may be the 39 flights of stairs
I fell down talking,

but I hear a slow, haunting version
of a song that's usually fast and funny.

♪ Happy song done ironic ♪

♪ Sung like a catatonic ♪

♪ Painfully clear ♪

♪ That the mood is ♪

♪ So drear ♪

♪ And to really put it on the nose ♪

♪ Make sure you close ♪

♪ In an off-putting minor key ♪

The D'ohker has escaped.

The peeved pagliacci broke out
of Darkham Asylum

with maniac pixie dream girl,
Margeley Quinn, by his side.

They're leading an army
of similarly-shod antisocial sickos

with no clear purpose or motive.

I have but one purpose and motive,
and they are clear:

to kill Krusty for using
his television show

to loser-shame his biggest fan.

Yeah!

Kill Krusty, kill Krusty.

So, Vonnegut, will I understand
Slaughterhouse-Five

if I didn't read the first four?

Slaughterhouse-Five, or as
it's also known, The Children's Crusade,

is a darkly humorous exploration
of the randomness of existence.

Die, Krusty, die, Krusty.

This is for humiliating me
and for every bad thing

that's ever happened to anyone since
and including the beginning of time.

- Cut to commercial.
- We did it.

We solved all of society's problems
by killing my favorite talk show host.

Oh! We're just getting started.

We'll burn this whole city down,
and nothing can stop us

because Batman is contractually
not allowed to exist in this universe.

For the first time, I feel loved.

Wait, what?

The D'ohker is happy?

And loved.

He's not a self-celibate freak like us.

He's got a girlfriend.

No Chads!

He's found love.

Kill them!

Die, D'ohker.

Die, D'ohker.

Well, at least in that fantasy,
we ended up together.

Marge, you're the classiest person
to ever pass out in my bar,

but you should go on home now.

Oh, my head hurts.

I don't even know
which Homer I want.

Here I go.

Homer. Homer.

Homer?

Homer? Kids?

Anyone? Where are you?

There he is, my Homer.

I'm sorry about everything.

Shh. It's okay.

I know all you wanted was
a fun couples night out,

and I couldn't even really be there.

Oh, you were there.

You're the bravest,
smartest, happiest Homer for me.

You're perfect.