(theme music playing)
CHORUS: ♪ The Simpsons ♪
(bell ringing)
(whistle blows)
(beeping)
(playing the blues)
(jazzy solo)
(chimes)
(tires screeching)
(honking horn)
D'oh!
(screaming)
(tires screeching)
-(screaming) -(laughing)
-(Homer snoring) -MARGE: Homer, get up!
Up! Up! Up!
(mumbles, continues snoring)
-(mumbling, grunting) -(bones cracking)
-(gasps) Oh, no! -(muffled shout)
(groans)
What the--
-My juice box! Ohh! -Oh, sorry, Homie.
But you promised to take me to the Apron Expo today.
-Just give me 10 more hours. -Come on.
You and the kids always want to do fun stuff.
But today we're doing something I like.
(groans)
They're unveiling a combination apron-smock.
-It's called a "smapron." -Did you say "smockron"?
-No, smapron. -Oh.
-(snoring) -Come on. It'll be fun!
Man, that was a good Apron Expo!
I'm gonna wear my apron on the Fourth of July.
And this lead apron will keep me safe downstairs.
(chuckles) "Grrrl Power."
Eh, I'm a little disappointed. There were too many aprons.
It was great, all right.
But all I want to do right now is hit the adjustable sack
with a good juice box.
Because when all is said and done--
"Prison Rodeo...
today"!
WARDEN (on P.A.): Welcome to Waterville State Penitentiary.
The contestants you'll see today are actual prisoners
on a break from their telemarketing duties.
Now, here comes our first outlaw!
-(bell rings) -Yee-haw! (groans)
-(all gasp) -Doggy.
Well, don't feel too bad for him, folks.
He's in here for erecting a nativity scene
on city property.
(all boo)
There's so much evil in the world.
-(crowd cheering) -(calf lowing)
WARDEN: No, Delbert.
We're not slaughtering the animals.
It's not like that, Warden. We was just havin' a conversation.
-Ain't that right? -Mm-hmm.
WARDEN: Next up's a real lowlife.
Bob Dylan wrote a song to keep him in prison.
-(bull grunting) -Say hello to Jack Crowley.
-(bellowing) -Yee-haw!
Go, bull! Toss his salad!
-(groans) -(cheering)
Oh, he's down!
And it looks like old Tornado
wants to caramelize his creme brulee!
-Yeah, do that! -Somebody help him!
Relax, they got rodeo clowns.
Is my lipstick even?
Go like this. (popping)
MARGE: Hey! Hey, over here!
Here, bully, bully, bully, bully, bully!
That's not gonna do it, Marge. You need something red.
Whoa!
Hey, Toro! Here's something to gore!
(bull bellowing)
-Dad! -Not now, honey. Daddy's busy.
(bellowing)
-(snorting) -Now for a little calming blue.
-Hey, where's your blue shirt? -I don't have a blue shirt.
Yow!
-(shouts, groans) -What the-- (grunting)
(all screaming)
Maybe it's the tear gas. (sniffles)
O-- Or maybe this was the best damn prison rodeo ever.
(man groaning softly)
How's your back, Homie?
I can't complain.
Nah, that's for the prisoners. You can complain all you want.
Oh, God, my back! It hurts so much!
And my job is so unfulfilling!
Try to focus on something else.
Mmm, you like Jimi Hendrix, right?
-Uh-huh. -Well, look at that painting.
Wow, the artist really captured Jimi's passion and intensity.
HOMER: And his fondness for the guitar.
Thank you kindly, ma'am. They won't give us art supplies
so I had to paint it with pudding.
-A convict painted that? -Yep.
Well, I studied art, and this guy's got a real gift.
You kiddin'? Look.
He painted a unicorn in outer space.
I'm asking you. What's it breathing?
-Air. -Ain't no air in space.
There's an Air in Space Museum.
-(bones cracking) -Oh, God! My back!
Let's get out of this gosh-forsaken heck-hole.
(groaning) All right.
MARGE: Oh, what a waste of talent.
(gasps)
A sunset.
(wind whistling)
(sighs)
(groaning)
(grunting)
They are coming back for us, aren't they?
I don't know.
(grunting continues)
(groaning)
-How's your back, Dad? -Well, there's a dull ache certainly.
And overlaid on that is a club sandwich of pain.
Only instead of bacon there's agony.
Marge, can I have a BLT?
What are you looking at?
Oh, nothing.
How would you feel if I did some volunteer work at the prison?
First, I'd feel like having a BLT-- then proud of you.
Oh, Homie, I knew you'd support me.
(blows a kiss)
-(cracking) -Oh, my back!
Hmm?
Mrs. Marge Simpson. I'm here to teach an art class.
Ooh, art class.
La-di-da.
(buzzer buzzes)
This is Ike Pross. He's going to solitary.
Ooh, solitary.
-La-di-da. -(buzzer buzzes)
Welcome to "Freeing the Artist Within."
Not literally, of course. (giggling)
(gun cocks)
OK. Now, I wanted to paint fresh fruit.
But the prison cafeteria would only give me sauerkraut.
-(inmates groaning) -That's depressing.
Let's let a little sunshine in.
(inmates groaning)
-(groans) Question? -Can I smell your dress?
(all laugh)
Hey, you show some respect.
-This one here's not for smellin'. -(grunts)
-Why thank you, Jack. -No problem. Now, let's paint.
Hey, can I smell your clothes?
(whistles) Your spine is more twisted than Sinbad's take on marriage.
-(laughing) -So? Just give me some drugs and surgery.
Oh, I'd love to. But to be honest...
modern medicine has a lousy record of treating the back.
We spend too much time on the front.
Yeah, there's some neat stuff on the front.
I'm gonna send you to my chiropractor.
Hey, I thought real doctors hated chiropractors.
Well, that is our official stance.
But between you, me and my golf clubs, they're miracle workers.
(grunting)
That's charming, Sardonicus.
But try to use less of a stabbing action
and more of a brushing stroke.
Yeah. See how much better that feels?
Yes. Much better.
Oh, Jack. That's so soulful.
How did someone so sensitive end up here?
Well, if you really gotta know, I shot a guy named Apu.
Oh.
Well, you know, lots of people shoot Apu.
It's just a hundred-dollar fine now.
Maybe I belong in here. I got a lotta anger.
I don't see any anger. I see a yearning for freedom.
Um, do you have a title?
"A Time to Kill."
Titles are hard.
Hello, Homer. I'm Dr. Steve. Please lie down.
Mmm. (snoring)
Get-- Wake up, Homer!
Huh? Less yakkin', more crackin'!
Now, Homer, we don't actually crack backs.
It's merely an adjustment.
OK, you're gonna hear a loud cracking sound.
-(loud cracking) -There we go.
-Hey. It feels a little better. -Mm-hmm.
I thought it might.
Now, I'll need to see you three times a week for, uh, many years.
(humming)
-So how was it in the slammer? -Terrific.
Bart, Sideshow Bob says he'll be seeing you real soon.
(chuckles) That Bob!
Oh, and guess who's up for parole. My diamond in the rough.
-That scary guy? -Scary talented.
And I'm gonna make sure the parole board knows it.
You gonna bribe 'em?
Well, I might grease the wheels of justice with some cookies.
-Oh, can I have some? -Not till you finish your sundae.
Ohh! (gulps, gasps)
-Is that enough? -Two more bites!
I'm sure your macaroons are scrumptious, Marge.
But I've seen this warden turn down brownies--
honest to goodness brownies!
Next! (munching)
Oh, it's you.
Well, just let me ink up my old "denied" stamp.
Warden, please. This man is a gentle soul.
I know he's made mistakes, but someone with his talent
belongs on a boardwalk doing caricatures, not behind bars.
Lady, I know he charmed you with some "pleases" and "thank-yous,"
but he wasn't so polite to the guy he shot.
Actually he was.
He waited with me till the ambulance came then ran like a deer.
Well, that's mighty nice.
But if I let this creep out,
would you like him skulking around your neighborhood?
Honestly, it wouldn't bother me.
(whispering, indistinct)
-Yeah, let's do it. -Well, lady, I'm gonna call your bluff.
The prisoner is hereby paroled into your custody.
(gasps) Oh-Oh, my goodness.
I'm free? Oh, Mrs. Simpson.
-(choking) -Oh, geez, I'm sorry.
Sorry.
You won't regret this.
I hope this is OK.
-It's not very prison-y. -It's more than I deserve, ma'am.
Now, which way is Mecca? 'Cause I gotta do a little prayin'.
Uh, Mecca? Well, let--
Nah! (laughing) I'm just yanking your chain!
(laughing) I'm Jewish.
-(groaning) -(cracking)
Ow! Oh, my back. Dr. Steve didn't do anything!
-Did you do those exercises he gave you? -Yeah, right.
I did 'em while you were studying.
(both laugh)
-Ow! -(cracking)
-Oh! Ow! -Dad, are you OK?
Yeah. In fact, I feel fantastic!
(laughing)
That trash can must've unkinked your back!
Not trash can, son. Dr. Homer's Miracle Spine-O-Cylinder!
-Patent pending. -OK, OK.
And as you can see, the unique dents in my invention...
perfectly match the contours of the human "vertebrains."
Hmm. Patent pending, patent pending, patent pending.
-Hey, who's this guy? -You remember Jack.
He's that talented painter who had a little brush with the law.
You brought a convict to live here near my unpatented idea?
I seen your idea, and I don't want it. All I need is three squares and a job.
That's right, a job.
I know just where you can get one.
So, Homer, you think you can fix my sciatica?
Hmm. I don't know what that is, so I'm gonna say yes.
-Now go limp. -I'm limp.
-One, two, better not sue. -(groaning)
(cracking)
Hey, it worked! My searing leg pain is now a gentle numbness.
Next!
Yes, uh, my car seems to have broken down,
and I was wondering if I could use your--
-Oh! That's a pushing motion! -(cracking)
Simpson, you're not a licensed chiropractor.
And you're stealing patients from me and Dr. Steffi.
Boy, talk about irony.
The AMA tries to drive you guys out of business.
Now you're doing the same to me!
-Think about the irony. -(grunts)
-(groans) -You've been warned. Stop chiropracting!
Not unless you think about the irony!
I read in the Daily Fourth Gradian
that you need someone to paint a mural.
Yes. School spirit is down 3.4 percent.
Well, Jack here will do great work for you.
Oh, any references?
Well, to be honest with you,
I spent the last six years in Waterville State--
It's a small liberal arts college.
Very law-abiding. No convicts at all.
Well, the only other one to apply was Moe Szyslak
and his stuff scares the hell out of me.
Eww! How could anyone consider that making love?
All right, Jack. You're hired.
I'll clear you out a cubby.
-You told a lie for me. -I know.
But the Lord will forgive me if it helps you get a second chance.
(sighs) Actually, Marge, it's the third if you count that farm couple.
Farm couple?
But I got a good feelin' about this one, Marge. I really do.
(worried murmur)
That is awesome. Finally, art that doesn't suck.
Dear Lord! What are you doing?
-You don't like it? -No, no! It's all wrong.
A shapely female form has no place in art.
But, uh, what I thought is--
I sketched out exactly what I wanted.
Yeah-- No-- But see what I was goin' for was--
Did you even look at the napkin?
Oh, I was in the zone that day.
Yeah. You see, I didn't want to go so cutesy-wootsy.
-Because... -Because it's not my style.
Well, if you want to keep this job, you'll make it your style.
All right. You're the boss man, ain't ya?
Darn right I'm the boss.
Don't forget I can send you back where you came from, college boy.
(groans)
(grunting)
That punk Skinner. I had more freedom back at the joint.
Oh, Jack, I know you hate to betray your artistic vision, but just do it.
-I guess I could bend a little. -Just till you make it.
Remember, I believe in you.
(grunting) Thanks, Marge.
Listen, if you're done with that washing machine,
can I make some booze in it?
-Not until you finish your sundae. -Yes, ma'am.
-(groaning) -What's wrong with my sundaes?
Careful, I'm frail. (grunting)
(cracking)
-OK, that should do it, Moe. -Hey, it don't hurt no more.
Ha! Now I can focus on my crippling emotional pain.
Oh, Daddy, Daddy, why? Why won't you hug me?
You hugged the mailman!
Excuse me, sir. Is this El Clinico Magnifico?
Ah, you saw our bus ad.
We'd, uh, like to invest in your spinal adjustment device.
We might be able to do business. (stifled squeal)
We'll need to take some photographs.
Hey, where you going with that?
(grunting)
Wait a minute. No investor could bend like that!
They're chiropractors!
-(both grunting) -Come on, come on. Let's go!
(tires screech)
No! My Spine-O-Cylinder!
They'll pay for what they did to my can!
Forget it, Homer. It's Chiro-town.
You know, when Superintendent Chalmers suggested a school mural,
I almost thought he said a school Muriel. (laughs)
Muriel's his sister.
-And, uh- -(gun cocking)
-Oh, thank you, Bruce Vilanch. -Whoopi would've made it work.
And now I present Puma Pride by a college-educated artist--
-ALL: Ooh! -Jack Crowley.
(applauding)
-Man, is that wimpy. -(groans) What happened to the cool one?
-Well, my original idea was-- -Jeepers, that's sugary even for my taste.
-Yeah, but Skinner said I had-- -(crowd murmuring)
Skinner! How are we going to raise school spirit with this sappy hokum?
I know, sir. It's an embarrassment.
This isn't what I wanted. Where's the edge?
I followed your napkin.
No napkin could wipe the crumbs of failure from your mouth!
-No! No, don't fight. -(grunts)
All great art is controversial at first.
But years from now, people will point to these cuddly little creatures and say,
"That's a Jack Crowley."
(groaning)
Now, uh, pizza's working well on Thursday.
But I think the kids will follow it to Tuesday.
That's what you said about the stuffed peppers,
and you lost the young males!
-Principal Skinner, the school's on fire! -(gasps)
CHILDREN: Spread, spread, spread!
-Spread, spread, spread! -It's crystal clear who did this--
Jack Crowley!
No way. You don't know that Jack did this.
-Just because he's an ex-con-- Ooh! -Crowley's an ex-con?
Dear Lord, I've peed in front of him!
Hey, check it out!
-(children exclaiming) -Ha! Now that's a mural!
It's so passionate. It almost leaps off the wall.
Oh.
That felon could've torched the whole school--
were it not stuffed with asbestos.
We'll catch Crowley.
And then he'll learn the fine art of police brutality.
Psst! Marge, over here.
Oh, Jack. You threw it all away over a stupid feud with Skinner.
Look, I'll admit I hate Skinner. But I didn't start that fire.
-Then why are you hiding? -Come on, Marge.
With my rap sheet, they can't wait to send me back to prison.
And you can't believe the foul language in that place.
So you really didn't do it?
Marge, look in my eyes.
I swear to you I did not do it.
I believe you, Jack.
Now, let's get you out of here. Wait for my signal.
Oh, Chief?
I found some evidence that points to the real arsonist.
-Well, let's see it. -Not yet. You have to guess what it is.
We don't have time for guessing games!
Nah, let's try it. It might be fun.
-Is it D.N.A? -(groans coyly)
So it's like D.N.A. Um, a hatchet?
You had a turn. I want to guess.
-(clicks tongue) Oh, geez. -(gasps) My car!
(cackling)
Puma Pride! Puma Pride!
(cackling)
Catch the fever, Skinner! (cackling)
You crumb bum!
You looked me right in the eye and lied to me!
Marge, this is the God's truth. I burned the mural.
But I did not burn Skinner's car.
I just saw you!
-Get him outta here, Chief! -Yes, ma'am.
My wife and I like watching that Oz show on HBO.
Uh, i-- is prison really like that?
-Wouldn't know. We only get basic cable. -Ouch.
Yeah, I also like that Sex in the City. Huh!
None of those girls look like my wife. (laughing)
-Sports Center's not bad. -Yeah. I never got that show.
-What's to get? They just tell the scores. -Yeah, I suppose. Yeah.
Hey, you ever meet any mob guys? Are they really like The Sopranos?
-I told you. We just get basic cable. -Oh, right, right, right, right.
Listen, if I'm getting too chatty, just, uh-- just tell me to shut up.
CROWLEY: Nah, I'm enjoyin'it.
Hey, you ever watch them strong-man contests?
They're pretty good. Those guys look strong.
A lot of guys in prison say they're gay, but I don't know. They look strong to me.
(theme music playing)
-(murmuring) -Shh!
Captioned by Visual Data Media Services