CHOIR: ♪ The Simpsons ♪
(tires screeching)
D'oh!
(screams)
(tires screeching)
(Marge shrieks)
-(rapid gunfire) -(whimpering, shrieking)
(organ plays softly)
(sobbing, sniffling)
So, how did Malt Liquor Mommy die?
Stop calling her that.
I'll tell you how she died.
You know that sign that says
"Do not stand up on the roller coaster"?
-Yeah. -She overdosed right in front of it.
Oh. Class all the way.
Marge, could you let it go?
You won. She's dead.
Mm-hmm.
We are here to mourn the tragic loss
of Amber Pai Gow Simpson, a gifted cocktail waitress
who hoped one day to learn computers.
(chuckling)
Amber said she wouldn't let her eighth-grade education
stop her from achieving her dreams.
And yet, it did.
Bart! Do you want
to leave the funeral early?! Do you?!
Yes. Of course.
CARL: "You were Homer's wife
for a two-day spurt
Your name was Amber, just like the alert..."
(paddleball caroms)
MARGE: Bart, put that away!
Thanks a lot. I lost my place.
Um... Ah, here it is. "The End."
(scoffs)
(growling)
-Uh-oh. -(glass crackling)
(choking)
(gasping)
Everyone relax, huh? I know the Heimlich.
I learned it a few years ago.
It was 1997,
and Titanic was proving unsinkable at the box office...
(choking)
(loud choking)
Somebody do me!
(choking)
(grunting)
Whew!
(gasps)
(all choking)
(grunting, coughing)
(laughing)
Your son is out of control!
You've raised a savage beast!
Yeah! Put a leash on him, lady!
Oh...
First, let me assure you that Bart's antics
are perfectly normal for a seven-year-old.
Actually, he's ten.
Oh, dear. Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear.
Spare us your medical mumbo jumbo.
Just give us the pills.
Clear-cut his brain down to the nub.
Mr. Simpson, it would be easy for me
to pour drugs down your son's throat...
Thank you, Doctor. Marge?
But for Bart, I'm going to prescribe
a more unorthodox treatment.
Cymbals... snare... high hat... tom-tom...
sticks, mallet and brushes.
This is a drum kit!
Drumming demands energy and concentration,
one of which Bart has, and one of which Bart needs.
(skillful drum playing)
Homie, look. He's enjoying it.
(syncopated annoyed grunts, D-oh's)
I've never seen him happier.
(drumming to "The Hardest Button to Button")
(drumming to song continues)
Whoa! Trippy!
(drumming to song continues)
♪ We started living in an old house ♪
♪ My ma gave birth, and we were checking it out ♪
♪ It was a baby boy so we bought him a toy... ♪
(clattering, song stops)
Hey, kid, why don't you watch where you're drumming?!
Sorry, White Stripes. No hard feelings?
Let's kick his ass!
(song resumes)
(drumming)
(screaming)
(skillful drumming)
Oh! Why couldn't he give up this
like he gives up everything else?
I know!
I'll use that white-noise machine
I got you when your father died.
(crashing waves)
(shouting): Transport yourself to the shores of Nova Scotia,
where cod and halibut frolic in...!
He's just drumming louder!
So it's a noise war he wants, huh?!
Then I'll throw in some rush-hour traffic!
(screeching tires, horns honking)
And a circus fire!
(people screaming animals roaring)
(shouting): Sleep tight, my angel!
Oh...
What?!
(shouting): Oh!
Oh! Let me know...
when and if you want sex, honey!
(drumming, traffic, animal noise continues)
(drumming continues)
Oh, he's gotta fall asleep sometime, doesn't he?
(drumming)
(despairing moans)
You guys need a break.
Why don't I take Bart with me
to the children's bebop brunch at Jazzy Goodtime's?
Is it in a safe neighborhood?
-(drumming louder) -Just make it happen!
Boy, get dressed!
You're going to a jazz brunch
as punishment for all the racket you're making!
I thought you wanted me to drum.
I'm sending you mixed messages.
Now, get the hell outta here.
I love you so much.
Damn you!
(blows kiss)
(playing jazz tune)
(applauding)
What it is, hepcats?
You want me to scat-sing the menu?
Absolutely not.
Oh, God bless you, sir.
Hey, Bart, you want to jam with me?
Okay. If you give me your omelet.
Whoo-hoo! I'm a professional musician!
(playing "Take Five")
♪♪
Not bad for a newbie, Bart!
You just may be the second-best player up here.
In case you're wondering who the best one is, it's me.
Ah! Crazy man, crazy! Oh, yeah!
(rattling)
(indistinct talking)
(gasps)
They're looking at me!
All right, Lisa, time to show these jazz legends
how we swing in the suburbs.
(wailing on sax)
That's a wrap, kids.
Now go have some Jazzy Bread.
(whispering): That's bread that fell on the floor.
-Mhmm. -MAN: Excuse me.
Are you Lisa Simpson?
(gasps): Yes, I am.
I'm, uh, Defonzo "Skinny" Palmer.
This is Marcus "Marbles" Le Marquez.
Pleased to meet you.
We were about to play a quick set,
-and we were wondering if you... -Yes?
-Lisa Simpson... -Yes?
-would do us the honor... -Yes!
-of sitting in... -(gasps)
that chair in the audience.
We wanna jam with your brother.
(shocked gasp)
(playing upbeat jazzy tune)
♪♪
Look! Bart's onstage.
And he's contributing to the entertainment!
(cheers, applause)
Yeah!
I was jamming with Skinny Turner
and Marbles Le Marquez!
And they want me to join their trio!
Whoo-hoo! What's next?
A contract with Groove-tone Records?
Take the G-train, baby. Groove-tone!
(grumbling): Oh, I can't believe it.
Stupid brother...
Lisa, why aren't you smiling with us?
'Cause I've wanted to jam with jazz musicians all my life.
How would Bart like it if I just hopped on his skateboard
and instantly became great?
Ah... whoa...
(yells)
Mild! Mild! Mild! Mild! Mild!
(grunts)
(groans)
Lisa, you've got to be more careful.
I need you to teach me all about the world of juzz.
It's jazz! Jazz!
(sobbing)
You don't even know the name of the thing
you are stealing from me.
(chuckles): Bart, you're so steady
on those skins, we're gonna call you "Tic Tock."
Oh-- I always wanted a jazz nickname.
Fine. We'll call you, uh...
Downbeat.
'Cause you're bringin' us down.
(groans): That is the most unfair...
Downbeat, Downbeat, please.
We're shootin' the breeze with Tic Tock.
Oh, man, I am so juzzed.
Bart, a rising star like you needs a manager,
and Gil's your guy!
Oh, I'm a jazz daddy from way back.
With the skit-skat skittily boom-de-boom,
and the ding-dong daddy...
Is that jazz? That's jazz, right?
Cha-cha-cha with the curly fries.
Hey!
Oh, son.
I like you more, now that other people like you.
It's mergatronic, Daddy-Ho.
Bart, does that even mean anything?
Xavier Cugat!
(plays drum flourishes)
(crowd applauding)
Bossie, the music business would chew you up and spit you out.
You just keep your eyes on the prize, girl.
(chainsaws whirring)
(suspicious moo)
Mom, I'm gonna lose it.
Bart's on the cover of both local jazz magazines:
"Blowin'" and "The Sugar Sheet".
Here's the only thing I've been on the cover of.
(sobbing)
Mm, look, uh, how 'bout we go to the pound,
and get a puppy just for you?
(stops sobbing)
That might work.
(dogs barking)
Oh, they're all so cute.
Yeah, you know what's even cuter?
Picking one without talking to me.
Well, I kind of like this guy.
(barks weakly)
(coughing)
Oh, but this one is precious!
(panting)
(hacking)
(yipping playfully)
(hacking)
(yipping)
Okay, this little guy's coming home with me.
Who's gonna get neutered tomorrow?
You are! Oh, yes you are.
(eerie tones playing)
Lisa Simpson... you doomed me.
(gasps): I did? How?
By choosing the cuter puppy.
You picked looks over personality,
youth over experience,
no history of rabies over unknown rabies status.
And now I'm going to die.
I never wanted that to happen!
(ghostly): You suuuuuck! You suuuuuck!
(scratching)
Ah, thanks, sweetie.
You suuuuuck!
Well, if you want him, you can have him.
And if you get tired of him...
I won't get tired of him.
It's just too bad
you can't take ol' Smiley here.
(whimpers)
Yeah, he'll be in God's Dumpster tomorrow.
I'll take him, too.
And I'm gonna put ol' Henry here to sleep...
because he knows my darkest secret:
I like putting animals to sleep.
(sighs)
I'll take him, too.
("Little Green Bag" plays)
♪ Yeah... ♪
♪ Lookin' back on the track for a little green bag ♪
♪ Got to find just the kind or losin' my mind ♪
♪ Out of sight in the night, out of sight in the day ♪
♪ Lookin' back on the track, gonna do it my way ♪
(musical interlude plays)
(song fades)
Okay, guys.
No one knows you're here, so be quiet.
And if you get hungry,
there are rats living in the Christmas decorations.
(squeaking)
And then today at lunch,
Lenny and I went to the park and rented a rowboat.
Carl sketched us from the bank.
Summer days...
(growling, shrieking, trumpeting, barking)
What are those noises?
They sounded zoological.
(shrieking, trumpeting, growling)
Shut up!
(gasps): I just said "shut up."
I'll punish myself by going upstairs.
Bart! What are you doing here?
Uh... not smoking reefer.
Uh, that's right.
We all not smoking reefer.
(growling, yelling)
(screams)
No, Buttercup! No!
(yells): My arm!
It hurts where the tiger's biting it!
(gasps)
Bart, that was a nasty bite you got.
You'll recover... but you'll never drum again.
Says you.
(moans)
I was a great drummer, and now I'm nothing,
just like Phil Collins.
I feel so terrible.
I just wanted to save those animals
while Bart became a drummer,
but I never thought the two stories would intersect.
And what about my new job as a Mexican wrestler?
Beware of Taco Belly. Whoo!
Eat your heart...
(gasps) No mas! No mas!
(elephant trumpets)
Uh, yes, I would like a bird
because I'm often lonely in the lab.
(moans)
Birds help.
See, Lisa.
We're making progress.
(gun cocking)
Drop the marsupial!
If those animals aren't gone by midnight tomorrow,
Animal Control is gonna round 'em all up.
And kill 'em.
(engine struggling)
(sighs)
Can I, uh, can I borrow that ostrich?
Sure.
How cool is this?
(laughs)
I guess that's it.
These animals are all gonna die.
Not if I can help it, Lisa.
Do you have an idea?
Uh, no. Sorry if it sounded like I did.
(jazz playing)
Hey, guys, great news.
I can drum again.
Sorry, Tic Tock.
Your tick is on... but your tock is gone.
Well, I've got a confession to make.
This right arm... it's not mine.
Whose is it?
I don't know.
Tic Tock, maybe you could get yourself
some of that sweet, sweet... what do you call it?
Arthroscopic micro-surgery
to reattach the ulnar nerve?
Yeah, that's the jingle.
The doctor did say surgery might help,
but it costs $78,000.
Well, I bet we could raise it
with a benefit concert. Huh? Huh?
Outta sight!
In the pocket!
Groovay, groovay!
Now, you boys know
you don't have the follow-through
to put something like that together.
Somethin' like what together?
A benefit concert!
Benefit concert!?
Outta sight!
In the pocket!
Groovay, groovay!
Oh, this benefit concert is gonna be Scooby Dooby.
I'm very happy for you, Bart.
(sighs)
Why are you sad?
Thinking about your marriage?
If we can't find a home for those animals,
they'll be put to sleep.
Your sister's very upset.
Oh... I feel weird.
It's like a potato chip full of shame,
going down my throat sideways.
Honey, what you're feeling is called "empathy."
Oh... now I'm gonna learn a new word.
"Empathy" means you're looking at Lisa
and feeling what she feels.
Your sister poured her heart into rescuing those animals
to forget the pain of being upstaged in jazz,
and now...
(moaning)
How can I end this torture?!
You could do something nice for Lisa.
(agonized moan)
You're my mother.
How can you say that?
(moaning)
(drums playing)
(playing jazz tune)
(cheering)
Hey, hey! We got more jazz superstars on the way, folks!
Gooey Martin, Willie Mimms, Drop Jaws Turner,
Sketch Friendly, Tootsie Childs, Sammy Biltmore,
No-Talent Jones, Anwar Benitez, Bossy Marmalade,
Bad-Check Mazursky, Ray-Ray Takamura,
Shaky Premise, Bootsy Croutonne, Richard Sakai,
The Pre-Marital Sextet, C.S.I. Miami, D.W. Jitters
The Chubb Group, Cantaloupe St. Pierre,
and many, many, more funny names!
(laughs)
And it's all to fix this very talented arm.
Ow!
Oh, right, the nerve damage.
Here's the benefit money,
Now I'm gonna go vomit to keep my weight down.
That's right. That's how Krusty does it.
(feeble laugh)
I wanna thank everyone for this special night.
Jazz folk may have the smallest apartments,
but they also have the biggest hearts.
(cheering)
But the biggest heart I know is in my sister Lisa.
(audience gasps)
WOMAN: What about me...
...Tootsie Childs?
Lis, you poured your heart
into rescuing society's most vulnerable critters-- animals.
So I want all the money we've raised tonight
to go to building...
The Lisa Simpson Home for Abandoned Animals!
(gasping)
Oh, Bart, thank you so, so much!
(cheering)
You know what we should do?
Hold a benefit concert.
Outta sight!
In the pocket!
Groovay, groovay!
Hey, am I still married to your sister?
Naw, she died.
♪♪
Shh!
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