Hello!
Hah!
Ooh!
D'oh!
Draw me some beer.
♪ The Simpsons 21x22 ♪ The Bob Next Door Original Air Date on May 16, 2010
-- Sync, corrected by elderman -- -- for www.addic7ed.com --
People of Springfield, this town is in the worst
financial meltdown we've ever seen.
No longer can we cook the books and fudge the numbers.
Mmm.
This is serious.
Pay attention.
Oh, yeah...
And so, it is with regret
I announce the following cost-cutting measures:
eliminating dead animal pickup...
...dramatic cutbacks in our education budget...
Good morning, children.
Today, we are instituting shortened school hours.
How shortened?
Take 'em home, Otto.
...and we have released
all low-level criminals from our prisons.
Spit the grapes back in with the others.
Homie, slow down.
Why should I?
The city's broke.
They can't afford to enforce their precious laws.
How fast were they going, Lou?
I don't know, Chief.
We can't afford a radar gun,
so we're just using a thermos
on top of a hose handle.
Well, it's better than my pistol.
Hey, hey, uh, that Ralphie's
getting to be a pretty fine artist.
I drew it.
Hmm. Mm-hm.
Another Springfield family
moves to Detroit to find a better life.
Now that it's empty, who's going to buy their house?
What if someone moves in with two Barts?
Or four teenage Barts?
Eh, at least they're learning their fractions.
What's that delicious smell?
Cookies!
Mmm.
Stop that sniffing. It's not for you.
They're making the house next door smell like cookies
so people will subconsciously want to buy it.
Oh, come on.
What kind of big, fat moron would fall for...
Cookies!
So delicious. Must buy house.
Homer, no!
Marge, get loan preapproved.
Offer over asking.
Waive inspections. Two-day escrow!
Initial the radon disclosure.
And done.
Sorry. Someone else has bought the house.
But my loan has already been sold in pieces to banks,
hedge funds and municipalities across the globe.
Death to Homer!
At least we'll always have Beowulf.
That's not us.
Oh, no!
A credenza?
Credenza?!
Lowboy? Sideboard?
Portmanteau?
Mom, it's so superficial to judge
our new neighbor based on his furniture.
He drives a hybrid!
He's got koi!
And where there's exotic fish,
there's got to be a...
Water feature.
Dames.
Well, I'm gonna go introduce myself Bart Simpson-style.
Yo. Bart Simpson.
No doubt you read about me
in your nuisance neighbor disclosure.
SIDESHOW BOB VOICE: Hello, Bart.
Huh? Say that again.
Hello, Bart.
Hello, Bart!
Hello, Bart.
Hello, BART.
Sideshow Bob!
Side what whom?
Man, you're good with the tools when you want to be.
Why on earth do you think
that harmless-looking man is Sideshow Bob?
I know he doesn't look like him,
but I'll never forget that voice.
A lot of people sound like Sideshow Bob.
Like Frasier on Cheers.
Or Frasier on Frasier.
Or Lieutenant Commander Tom Dodge in Down Periscope.
Look, I'm telling you, no matter who he says he is,
he's really Sideshow Bob.
Honey, his name is Walt Warren,
and he's a very nice man.
He stopped me from driving away
with my coffee cup on top of the car.
Ah.
Really? Hmm.
Maybe I...
Sideshow Bob!
Stupid kid, fooled by a silhouette.
Ooh.
Eh...
Ice cream?!
Oh, nothing is ever boobs or ice cream.
I'll prove I'm not crazy.
Sideshow Bob could never resist singing along
to a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta.
Who am I again?
Yum Yum. I'm Peep-bo.
Mom, Dad, I got the lead!
And a one, and a two, and a...
♪ Three little maids from school are we ♪
♪ Pert as a schoolgirl, well can be ♪
♪ Filled to the brim with a girlish glee ♪
♪ Three little maids from school. ♪
Uh-oh, Bart.
Who will sing the next verse?
We need a third maid.
Maybe someone will step in and help.
♪ One little maid is a bride, Yum Yum ♪
♪ Two little maids in attendance come ♪
♪ Three little maids ♪
♪ Three little maids... ♪
Sorry, gentlemen.
I'm not a fan of that particular style of music.
My radio dial never strays from 89.4 "The Spur."
It is a good station, Bart,
what with the Morning Cattle Drive
and Armadillo Mike in the afternoon.
And nothing keeps me informed
like Rodeo Rick's Ne Roundup
every hour on the...
Shut up.
I just want to say, I've not only found new neighbors,
but gained new friends.
And from now on, Wi-Fi in this neighborhood is on me.
Ooh, that book I ordered is going to be delayed.
All right, Walt Warren.
Let's see who you really are.
Harmless World,
Mild Manners,
Not Mad Magazine,
Nap Fancy,
Calm, Comfortable,
a "Cuddly Puppies" calendar.
Aw, little guy can't get out of the pumpkin.
There must be something here.
Something, something, something.
Bart?
What are you doing?
You're indoors at an outdoor party.
Walt is Sideshow Bob,
and I'm going to prove it.
Look. Who needs a knife this big?
It's probably a deboner.
Boner.
Mom, I'm scared.
I can see there's only one way to settle this once and for all.
Okay ma'am, Sideshow Bob's cell
is all the way at the end.
Walk fast and don't call attention to yourself.
Pretty lady in a strapless dress coming through!
Oh, yeah! Come here, woman!
If you were my wife, I never would've killed you!
Thank you. You're very sweet.
Nothing is holding up the dress!
Only her melons!
And here we are.
Sideshow Bob.
I can't see.
Oh, here you go.
Huh?
That is Bob.
Guess I was wrong.
We better go.
Pretty lady coming back!
Aw, yeah... yeah!
Come here, baby. Walkin'...
Guys, guys, I'm married.
You are? So sorry.
Great day to be alive.
Morning, Marge.
Hope I didn't interrupt your petite dejeuner.
Look, I feel terrible that Bart and I
got off on the wrong foot,
and I have an extra ticket to today's baseball game.
Bart, care to come?
They're playing Spokane.
The Cascades?
They totally stole the Federal Cup from us last year.
Can I go, Mom? Can I?
Is your room clean? No.
Good. That'll give me something to do
while you're at the game.
Marge, the bathroom scale is lying again.
All right, buddy, I'm gonna do to you
what you should have done to my son a long time ago.
I'm not Sideshow Bob.
I'm the real Walt Warren.
But that's impossible.
If you're the real Walt Warren,
who's taking our son to the baseball game right now?
Uh, you missed the turn-off, Mr. Warren.
You don't have to call me Mr. Warren anymore.
You see, Bart, you were right all along.
I am... Sideshow Bob.
And now I am free to sing
all the Gilbert and Sullivan I damn well please.
♪ Behold the lord high executioner ♪
♪ A personage of noble rank and title... ♪
Hmm...
Hmm...?
I'll prove I'm telling the truth.
Bob has huge feet, right?
Well, look...
You see?
It's like you're a Chinese empress.
You see, I was Bob's cellmate.
My new cellmate, Walt Warren,
was the perfect candidate for my plan.
He had the same build as me--
lacking only my regal bearing and leonine grace.
As a minor offender, he was scheduled for early release.
Say, Bob, why do you keep measuring my face?
Just passing the time, bunky.
Well, I guess it beats what the last guy did.
Well, nighty-night.
And nighty-night to you.
SIDESHOW BOB: I began by removing Walt's face.
Five-second rule.
That was the easy part.
The hard part was removing my own face.
Luckily, as Krusty's sidekick, I'd been hit with so many pies
that my face had lost all sensation.
Or so I thought.
The final reattachment was a mere bagatelle.
Or so I thought.
They returned Walt's possessions to me.
Keys, cell phone,
$143,000.
Oh!
It was only $27, 000 when you came in,
but we invested it well.
Would you like a commission? Not allowed.
And I walked out free as a bird.
I bought the house next to you, and here we are.
So I just have to kill you, then sell the house.
Selling the house will be murder.
You could just rent it till the market recovers...
which'll be never.
Walt, why didn't you tell your story to the guards?
Well, I tried to, but I had trouble moving my new lips.
They heard me babbling,
thought I was crazy, and threw me into a padded cell.
I tried to warn you by writing "Bart Simpson will die"
on the walls, but you ignored me.
You have to admit, "Bart Simpson Will Die"
was kind of open to interpretation.
I'm not a writer.
And I'm not a locksmith.
Man, that dude does not like Bart.
I know where Bob's taking Bart.
Another cup of coffee, handsome?
It's on the house.
Well, that's kind of you, Joyce, but caffeine makes me jittery,
and I have a task ahead of me which requires a firm hand.
Ooh, I like a man with a firm hand.
Hey, looks like you've got a loose thread on your collar.
No, don't.
My face. My beautiful, borrowed face.
Come back!
I don't care if you don't have a face.
I just need something warm to cuddle at night!
Excuse me. Have you seen this man?
Yeah, I've seen him.
He, uh, said he was driving down to Mexico.
Mexico?!
ándale! ándale!
Arriba!
I don't believe her.
I think she fell in love with my face,
and she's trying to throw us off the scent.
Walt, it's a nice face,
but I don't think it would drive a professional waitress to lie.
Well, fine. You go to Mexico.
I'm going to Five Corners.
Hey, handsome.
Is that a loose thread on your collar?
All the good men are either gay or have no face.
Welcome to the Five Corners,
the only geographic location in the U.S.
where five states meet,
and where you will meet your doom.
Come on, Bob.
You don't need to kill me.
I'll probably kill myself pretty soon
with all the stupid things I do.
Oh, no! I swallowed my tongue!
Yes, I would be a fool.
Unless I did it here,
where your murder will be unprosecutable.
You know, the great ones can kill without explaining.
I can stand in one state, fire a gun in a second state.
The bullet will travel through the third, hitting you
in the fourth so you fall dead in the fifth.
No single act is against any law.
But their sum total is the greatest murder
since Snape killed Dumbledore.
Oh, I haven't gotten to that part yet.
It's a four-year-old book.
I'm a slow reader.
A fitting epitaph.
It means last words.
Are you here to teach me, or to kill me?
What in the name of Malcolm Muggeridge are you doing?
Ruining your plan. If you shoot me
while we're in the same state, you go to jail.
Oh!
Fine. I'll just shoot you, and tell people I did the plan.
Not today, Bob.
See, Bob, even you hate to see you.
Now Bob, you take my face off nice and easy
and kick it over here.
Oh!
There's a bee under my cheek!
Hey! Hey, no!
Help us! Help us! For the love of God,
Won't somebody help us?
Sí. Uh, yes, I'd like... um...
How do you say taco in Mexican? Taco.
Yes, that's exactly the word I want to translate. Taco.
Homer, can we please find Bart? Oh, yeah, yeah, right.
Uh, just give me one of those crispy shells with meat in it.
Taco? Oh!
Walt, because I like your face,
I'll let you decide which state I kill you in.
Okay, uh... Hawaii.
Choosing privilege revoked.
Hold it right there, Switches of Eastface.
Switches of Eastface?
I don't want to censor myself.
That's how creativity dies.
Aah! Blasted Wiggum! How did you find us?
You see, Bob, Bart was never convinced you were Walt.
So before he left for the game,
he called us and warned us to track you.
Which we were able to do through the dashboard of
you car, which, like all hybrids, is secretly monitored
by the government.
Bravo, Chief.
Or should I say, Clancy?
Yeah, thanks...
Wait a minute-- why so familiar?
Because I'm afraid you don't have jurisdiction in this state.
Welcome to my jurisdiction.
You just, uh, go ahead
and put your hands up there, mister.
Oh. You got the right to remain silent over here. Oh.
We're takin' you in.
But first, we're gonna make a stop at the shore
for some Skee-Ball and funnel cakes. Oh!
Oh, Bart, I am so glad everything's okay.
Well, not everything.
Apparently someone switched your face with a butt.
Well, whoever moves in,
it can't be worse than having a murderer next door.
Howdilly-dowdilly, next-door-oonies.
Howdy, Cousin Ted.
Howdy do to you, Cousin Ned.
How are Roddy and Toddy?
Flantastic times two. How are Connie and Bonnie?
Dandy as candy, like every good Flandy.
Glad to hear it, thank the Holy Spirit.
Glad to say it, and now the girls will "yay" it.
Yay. Stop! Stop! Stop!
-- Sync, corrected by elderman -- -- for www.addic7ed.com --