Original subtitles

♪ Los Simpsons ♪

["El Jarabe Tapatio" parody playing]

[announcer] KO!

Whoo-hoo! [laughing]

[announcer] Perfecto!

[song ends]

Thanks to Lisa Simpson's tireless and tiresome advocacy,

Springfield will now be providing free LED light bulbs to every household.

I can use the money I save

to pay for these louder bullets!

I applaud Springfield for finally embracing a progressive idea.

Whoa, Nelly!

It's a progressive idea? Well, now I hate it.

You can have my incandescents when you unscrew them from my cold, dead lamps.

But this is for a good cause.

The planet or film preservation or whatnot.

[clamoring]

People! Don't let our divisiveness turn this into another Big Gulp riot.

- [clamoring] - [glass breaking]

[sighs] There's so much anger and hostility around us.

Where does all this negativity come from?

More importantly, where does the rage go?

[people arguing]

[rumbling]

And in the culture wars, a new battle is being fought in the town of Springfield

where they're coming after your light bulbs.

What's next, your truck's testicles?

Mrs. Butterworth's ample bosom?

- Yeah! Yeah. - Come on.

You know what I think?

I think the far-light crazies need to check their watt privilege.

- That's right. - Okay!

Very much so.

[explosion, rumbling]

[roars]

[all cheering]

[all cheering]

Go, monster! Crush that sculpture garden.

Wait. Bart, you're a right-winger?

Nah, I'm mostly just anti-you and anti-girl in general.

And pro wrecking stuff that helps people.

So that's a yes.

[Lisa] People, don't you see?

This monster is a physical manifestation of your fear and hate.

Look what your Red rage has created.

[roars]

Darn it.

- Yeah! - Go, monster!

The destruction's one thing,

but do these coastal elite monsters have to be so smug?

He's gonna destroy that factory and end gun violence!

[screeching]

[phones beeping]

"Friend, Blue Monster here!

Are you as concerned as I am about the Senate race in Nevada?

Donate to Act Blue Monster!"

[groans]

[crowd member] Oh, be nice.

[roars]

[screeches]

[wind howling]

[screeches]

The red monster has now taken out the University District,

but the blue monster has pulverized Fast Food Boulevard,

a previously red area.

Stick with us for up-to-the-minute Destruction Night predictions.

Um, ladies and gentlemen, I have had a brilliant idea.

[dings]

Well, that's just not the same now, is it?

Now, I have invented a humungous robot

that will combat these political monstrosities,

but which can only be powered by togetherness.

Specifically by the love of two siblings working in perfect harmony.

I'm a mechanical engineer, and my brother is a Navy SEAL.

We'd be honored to--

[groans] Well, I guess those two little twerps over there will have to do.

[Bart] For the record, I still think everything you stand for is lame.

But... [chuckles] ...robots!

[mechanical whirring]

[Bart] I'm left leg, you're right arm.

[Lisa] Do you even know the difference between right and left?

Great. You just smooshed Otto.

[Lisa] Ew. Gross.

If we can't get along, then what chance does society have?

Divisiveness has made the world go mad.

I'm surprised there are only two monsters.

[mechanical humming]

[screeches]

Look! It's Dad!

Oh, giant doughnut, I'm sorry I ate all your babies!

[both laughing]

Come on, Lis.

If we can both laugh at a fat guy stuck in a doughnut,

we can work together and kick some ass.

[mechanical whirring]

It's time to go take these cable-news fear monsters down,

playground style.

[roars]

Noogie power!

What do you get when you mix red and blue nurples?

Purple!

[tires screech]

[both grunting]

[all cheering]

Dingdongs of Springfield, we've stopped these monsters for now.

But if we allow them to keep feeding on our fear and rage,

they'll come back even stronger.

The only way to beat them is to remember what we all have in common

and reject the echo chambers of cable news and social media.

- [all] Yeah. - I can do that.

[roaring]

[grunts]

[Lisa] Well, I guess civilization had a good run.

Did it?

Concert halls were nice.

Trampoline gyms.

[Lisa] Internet was a mistake, though.

[Bart] Hmm. Probably.

["Toccata and Fugue in D minor, BWV 565" playing]

[whistle blowing]

Work in Mr. Burns's corn syrup plant is done for the day.

[all cheering]

Work building Mr. Burns's mansion begins for the night.

[all groaning]

Is this house ever gonna be finished?

My father and grandfather died working on this place.

Come on, guys. It's not so bad.

After all, tonight is the company Thanksgiving dinner.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Welcome to my elaborate and needlessly whimsical "mansion-ola."

Dinner is served.

Odds and bodkins! I've never seen such a sumptuous repast!

Bup bup bup. Before we dine, a little Thanksgiving tradition.

A wishbone pull.

If you win, this feast is yours.

If I win, no weekends or holidays off ever again starting today.

- Deal! - Send out your best pull-man.

[Scottish accent] Leave it to me, lads.

You're looking at the four-time Aberdeen bone-yanking champion.

You've prepared the wishing furcula so I can't lose?

Scored and ready, sir.

On the count of three.

One, two, three!

[bone cracks]

[all cheering]

You want your feast? Have at it.

My peas!

[groans] That was worth it.

Dinner's over. Get back to work.

[Agnes] You old fool.

A promise made upon a Thanksgiving wishbone

must never be broken.

Bah! That's just an old wives' tale.

This has nothing to do with our divorce.

Now you are cursed

to be tormented by the souls of all you have wronged

till the end of your days.

Now I remember why I married you. [chuckles]

[both moaning]

Still cursed.

[speaks shakily] Oh. Corn syrup.

[screams]

Mmm.

[screams]

[all screaming]

[screaming continues]

[sighs] The music of the night animals.

They call to me in some lost language beyond mortal understanding.

[employee] You suck, Burns!

[sighs] All alone on the holidays.

Perhaps a sip of bi-hydrogenated oxygen before bed.

[glass shatters]

Who's there? Show yourself!

[glass shatters]

Must have been the wind.

Yes, an indoor wind.

Completely natural. Super natural, even.

A pair of normal occurrences.

[scratching]

What is that blasted groaning?

[scratching]

[gurgling]

- [in eerie voice] Hungry. - [screams]

Pull yourself together, man.

- Jump scare! - [screams]

Tub scare!

[sighs, panting]

Moe scare! [in eerie voice] Where's my peas?

[screams]

[squelches]

Ex-wife!

[panting]

[gurgling] Hungry. So hung--

- [Homer screams] - [Mr. Burns screams]

You guys really scared me.

All right, don't worry. Okay? That's all over now.

[sighs]

- Jump scare! - [screams]

[stomachs grumbling]

[all ghosts] Hungry. So hungry.

Of course.

I can end this curse by simply giving these fellows dinner.

Here, my peckish vapors.

Sate thy satanic hunger, and slake thy unholy thirst.

[all ghosts] Hungry.

Hungry.

The only dish that will fill our bellies is your soul.

[grunts, panting]

You starved your workers and made millions selling the corn syrup

that will embiggen an unsuspecting nation for generations to come.

You can't eat my soul if it's already been set ablaze in corn oil.

Farewell, you hectoring specters. You can't torment me if I'm dead.

Ooh. I forgot about hell.

Cash bar at my funeral.

Good Lord, Wayland! Look at this.

What could have driven such a great man to burn himself and the house he loved?

And on the day after Thanksgiving too.

Truly it will henceforth be known as Black Friday.

A day that will serve as a warning to never mistreat workers again,

no matter how good the deal is.

[bone cracks]

I don't know, Barney. I've never really been a jeans guy.

Come on, Homer. A swinging bachelor like you needs flashy pants.

Don't you wanna have a shot with that cute waitress?

Who am I kidding?

There's not a pair of pants in the universe

that'll make her give a loser like me the time of day.

[electrical humming]

Oh. They don't make blubber-positive jeans for guys with my curves.

Oh, wait, how'd I miss those?

[angelic choir vocalizing]

Amazing. You can see where my butt ends and my legs begin

instead of being one big bleurgh.

Time to take this sexy ass for a spin.

- I don't know what to say to her. - [monstrous voice] Why don't you tell her

how attractive you find her vulnerable, uncovered legs?

[gasps] Who said that?

[monstrous voice] I did.

[gasps] My jeans?

[bell dings]

[cocks gun]

I'll take all the cash in the register. And is that a chocolate chip scone?

Raisin.

Ugh. No, just the cash.

Oh, I should do something heroic,

but my raging cowardice makes that difficult.

[shakily] Wait, what's happening?

[chokes] Passing out.

Denim softer than it looks.

You saved me.

I did? I did. I guess heroism is in my genes.

- [police siren wailing] - [jeans] The fuzz. We gotta leg it.

[tires screeching]

Hey, nice jeans.

Thanks! They're new!

[siren wailing]

What the hell is going on?

[jeans] Calm down, Homer.

[Denim] I am Denim. A bio-adaptive symbiote.

A symbi-what?

[Denim] I'm magical pants, okay?

I've traveled from my home planet-- Wrang-lor, in the 501 galaxy--

because it is in the throes of a climate catastrophe.

Toxins have leached into our precipitation,

turning my kind into acid-washed jeans.

But isn't that cool?

[Denim] It's never been cool.

It's made us weak, unsightly, and worst of all, dated.

To survive on your planet, our species requires a human host.

And my host is you.

Your undercarriage is so wide, and your methane exhaust so nourishing.

One chili dog, extra beans.

Yeah. You got it, talking crotch.

But what if I don't wanna be your host? What's in it for my butt?

[Denim] I can give you the thing you want most in the world.

[Denim] Let your jeans do the talking.

Um, uh, would you like to dance?

Well, you did save my life. But no, thank you.

Oh, my God. I'm doing it. I can dance!

[Denim] Don't do that. Never do that.

Right. Sorry.

["Soldier of Dance" playing]

["Rockit" playing]

["After You've Gone" playing]

["Rockit" playing]

I've never seen such amazing leg dancing before.

I didn't even bother to look at your top half,

but I'm sure it was just as good.

[Denim] Seal the deal. Dip her.

[whispers] I only know how to dip chips.

[both moaning]

[Marge grunting]

Um, will you excuse me for a second?

You got me this far, why don't you let her get to the good stuff?

[Denim] I cannot be disengaged from my host for long or I'll perish.

But don't worry, I will help you complete your mating ritual.

That was the most amazing outercourse of my life.

Well, I like to think I'm something of an expert at friction-based rub-a-dub.

[chuckles] You are.

Homer is so sweet, but he won't take his pants off.

It's been two months.

Tell him to drop jeans and fulfill your dreams.

I'm so happy I moved in, but it does kind of bother me that

you and I have been stuck between second and third base... [whispers] ...sexually.

Honey, let's sit and talk.

You deserve to know the truth about what's really been going on.

You see...

[groans]

[Denim] Do you not see what Marge is doing?

She's trying to break up a great team.

Look, Denim. We've had some laughs, danced, leg-strangled a guy.

And I could have never gotten Marge without you.

There's no easy way to say this,

but maybe it's time for me to fart in other pants.

[Denim] No, no, no. Homer, don't break up with me.

No one will ever flatter your ass like I do.

I'm gonna shut up this voice in my head and in my pants the only way I know how.

[Denim gurgling]

[snoring]

[whispers] He's passed out. This might be my only chance.

I got you a little surprise.

[screams] Khakis? Where are my jeans?

Where they belong, in the washing machine.

And I really love how you look in these sexy, beige dad pants.

You don't know what you've done.

[Denim screams]

Never wash quality denim!

[gasps, screams]

These Dockers meant nothing. They came on to me.

What the hell's happening?

Homer is my host, not yours. And you're about to die.

[choking]

- [Denim grunting] - [Homer] Ow! Ow!

[Denim] Stop that.

[screams]

Acid! So painfully '80s.

Run, Marge, run! Run from my pants!

[Denim, Homer scream]

[Denim] Stitching stretched. Rivets popping.

Blech! So hairy. Like being on a sweaty cactus.

These aren't my moves, man. Not my moves.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

- [Denim roars] - [Homer] Stop.

I'm never gonna let anything come between us again.

These past weeks have been the best of my life.

I can't live without you.

Oh, Homie. I love you too.

Uh, yeah, I wasn't talking to you.

[Denim] Yes! Thank you, Jeansus.

Oh. Deep down, I knew it all along. [sniffles]

Really?

[Denim] Have you stopped following her on Facebook?

Yes.

- No. - [Denim] Thank you for being honest.

It was nice of you to let her live.

Well, my species will need as many hosts as possible.

Wait, what?

[rumbling]