jamesliu23/simpsons · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 7 697
Hey, that's just Pong!
Get with the times, man.
Marge and I played that old game before we were married.
Well, we did build this space ship, you know?
Anyone from a species that has mastered intergalactic travel, raise your hand.
All right, then.
Sorry. Your game is very nice.
Dinner time.
Hey, how come we never see you guys eat?
Oh, we wouldn't want to spoil our appetite for... the great feast when we land on Rigel Four.
Oooh, a feast.
Will we be invited?
Oh, you'll be at the feast. I have a feeling you'll be the guests of honor.
Tell us more about this feast.
No, no, eat now.
When we arrive, there will be plenty of time to chew the fat.
Very good, earth boy.
Excellent, Mr. Simpson. Excellent.
This will give the humans the perfect flavor.
Don't you see what's happening here? They're fattening us up so they can eat us.
If you don't believe me, look at this book I found.
Marge, she's right.
Humans, you have stopped eating.
Listen, you big stupid space creature. Nobody, but nobody eats the Simpsons.
I beg your pardon.
Don't play dumb with me. We found your book.
You mean this? It's a harmless cookbook. It's just a little dusty.
Wait a minute!
Wait, there's still more space dust on here.
Let me get this straight. You thought...
They thought we were going to eat them.
Good God! Is this some kind of joke?
No, they're serious...
Well, why were you trying to make us eat all the time?
Make you eat? We merely provided a sumptuous banquet and, frankly, you people made pigs of yourselves.
I slaved in the kitchen for days for you people and...
Well, if you wanted to make Serak the Preparer cry, mission accomplished.
You aren't the only beings who have emotions you know.
We offered you paradise. You would have experienced emotions a hundred times greater than what you call love, and a thousand times greater than what you call fun. You would have been treated like gods and lived forever in beauty. But, now because of your distrustful nature, that can never be.
For a superior race, they really rub it in.
There were monsters on that ship. And truly we were them.
Lisa, see what we mean when we say you're too smart for your own good?
Way to go, Lis.
Yeah, thanks Lisa.
Hello, something scary happening.
Hey, Poindexter. It's Halloween, put the book away.
For your information, I'm about to read you a classic tale of terror by Edgar Allan Poe.
Wait a minute. That's a schoolbook.
Don't worry, Bart. You won't learn anything.
It's called, "The Raven."
Once upon a midnight dreary,
while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore -- While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
Like what?
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
'Tis some visitor,
I muttered,
-- tapping at my chamber door -- Only this and nothing more.
Are we scared yet?
Bart, he's establishing mood.
Ah, distinctly I remember. It was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; -- vainly I had sought to borrow from my books surcease of sorrow:
-- sorrow for the lost Lenore --
Oh, Lenore.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -- Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain thrilled me -- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating;
'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -- This it is and nothing more.
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer;
-- said I --
-- or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you.
Here I opened wide the door; --
This better be good.
Darkness there and nothing more.
You know what would have been scarier than nothing?
Anything!
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.
Surely --
-- said I --
-- surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore --
Mr. Burns in twenty years I have never seen such a shoddy, deplorable --
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he, But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -- Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -- Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou --
I said --
-- art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore -- Tell me... tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!
Quoth the Raven,
Eat my shorts!
Bart! Stop it. He says "nevermore". That's all he'll ever say.
Okay, okay.
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed by some unseen censer,
Ouch! Censer..
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
Wretch --
I cried --
-- thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath sent thee. Respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!
Quoth the Raven,
Nevermore.
Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!
I shrieked of starting,
Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Oh, leave no black plume as a token of the lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Quoth the Raven,
Nevermore.

Hey, that's just Pong!

Get with the times, man.

Marge and I played that old game before we were married.

Well, we did build this space ship, you know?

Anyone from a species that has mastered intergalactic travel, raise your hand.

All right, then.

Sorry. Your game is very nice.

Dinner time.

Hey, how come we never see you guys eat?

Oh, we wouldn't want to spoil our appetite for... the great feast when we land on Rigel Four.

Oooh, a feast.

Will we be invited?

Oh, you'll be at the feast. I have a feeling you'll be the guests of honor.

Tell us more about this feast.

No, no, eat now.

When we arrive, there will be plenty of time to chew the fat.

Very good, earth boy.

Excellent, Mr. Simpson. Excellent.

This will give the humans the perfect flavor.

Don't you see what's happening here? They're fattening us up so they can eat us.

If you don't believe me, look at this book I found.

Marge, she's right.

Humans, you have stopped eating.

Listen, you big stupid space creature. Nobody, but nobody eats the Simpsons.

I beg your pardon.

Don't play dumb with me. We found your book.

You mean this? It's a harmless cookbook. It's just a little dusty.

Wait a minute!

Wait, there's still more space dust on here.

Let me get this straight. You thought...

They thought we were going to eat them.

Good God! Is this some kind of joke?

No, they're serious...

Well, why were you trying to make us eat all the time?

Make you eat? We merely provided a sumptuous banquet and, frankly, you people made pigs of yourselves.

I slaved in the kitchen for days for you people and...

Well, if you wanted to make Serak the Preparer cry, mission accomplished.

You aren't the only beings who have emotions you know.

We offered you paradise. You would have experienced emotions a hundred times greater than what you call love, and a thousand times greater than what you call fun. You would have been treated like gods and lived forever in beauty. But, now because of your distrustful nature, that can never be.

For a superior race, they really rub it in.

There were monsters on that ship. And truly we were them.

Lisa, see what we mean when we say you're too smart for your own good?

Way to go, Lis.

Yeah, thanks Lisa.

Hello, something scary happening.

Hey, Poindexter. It's Halloween, put the book away.

For your information, I'm about to read you a classic tale of terror by Edgar Allan Poe.

Wait a minute. That's a schoolbook.

Don't worry, Bart. You won't learn anything.

It's called, "The Raven."

Once upon a midnight dreary,

while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore -- While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

Like what?

As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

'Tis some visitor,

I muttered,

-- tapping at my chamber door -- Only this and nothing more.

Are we scared yet?

Bart, he's establishing mood.

Ah, distinctly I remember. It was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; -- vainly I had sought to borrow from my books surcease of sorrow:

-- sorrow for the lost Lenore --

Oh, Lenore.

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -- Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain thrilled me -- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating;

'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -- This it is and nothing more.

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer;

-- said I --

-- or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you.

Here I opened wide the door; --

This better be good.

Darkness there and nothing more.

You know what would have been scarier than nothing?

Anything!

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.

Surely --

-- said I --

-- surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore --

Mr. Burns in twenty years I have never seen such a shoddy, deplorable --

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he, But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -- Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -- Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou --

I said --

-- art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore -- Tell me... tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!

Quoth the Raven,

Eat my shorts!

Bart! Stop it. He says "nevermore". That's all he'll ever say.

Okay, okay.

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed by some unseen censer,

Ouch! Censer..

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

Wretch --

I cried --

-- thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath sent thee. Respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!

Quoth the Raven,

Nevermore.

Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!

I shrieked of starting,

Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Oh, leave no black plume as a token of the lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!

Quoth the Raven,

Nevermore.