jamesliu23/simpsons · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 7 697
Well, I'm still gonna run!
I want the whole world to hear the story of my harrowing struggle with hypohemia.
Well, sir, Mr. Roman is one of the finest ghostwriters in the business.
He's written "Like Hell I Can't!"... "Up From The Muck"... and "The Unsinkable Sadruddin Mahbaradad!"
Excellent.
All right, all right. First question? Have you slept with anyone famous?
Well, Countess Van Zeplin and I... What in blaze... Now you listen to me, you bargain basement Baudelaire. I'm not some dizzy starlet who can't string two words together. I can write this thing myself. You're fired.
Hello, my name is Mr. Burns. I believe you have a letter for me.
Okay, Mr. Burns. What's your first name?
I don't know.
Great plan, Bart.
Ooh, look, Maggie, what is that? Do-dec-ah-edron. Dodecahedron.
Lisa, I don't know what you're doing, but it's very strange and your father is trying to worry.
"Chapter the Fifth... A Trip to the Infirmary, With Most Unexpected Results."
Twenty eight minutes till Burns comes. Time for operation Mail Take.
Can I help you?
They always told me I was gonna destroy the family, but I never believed it.
Oh, don't be frightened of this. It's nothing but a letter opener. Who are you?
Homer Simpson.
Simpson, eh? Simpson. Oh, why, there's a letter here from you. I'll just read it right now. "Dear Mr. Burns. I'm so glad you enjoyed my son's blood. And your card was just great." Why, Simpson. You've made my day. You're a true gentleman.
Yeah, well I'll be on my --
Hello, there's more. "In case you can't tell, I'm being sarcastic..."
"...you stink, you are a senile, buck-toothed..." "...old mummy... with bony girl arms and you smell like an elephant's butt!"
Hey, c'mon, Joey! Do you have to twist my arm?
Homer, I don't tell you how to do your job. Okay?
I could crush him like an ant, but it would be too easy. No, revenge is a dish best served cold. I'll bide my time until... Oh, what the hell. I'll just crush him like an ant.
"Senile," eh? "Buck-toothed," am I? "Bony arms," are they? "Liver spots," did I? "Chinless," will you?
His pink slip awaits your signature, sir.
Now, that's odd. I've just robbed a man of his livelihood, and yet I feel strangely empty. Tell you what, Smithers. Have him beaten to a pulp.
But, sir --
But what?
Nothing, sir.
Oh, I've never seen Mr. Burns this mad and he's always kinda mad.
Me and my big... letter writing pen!
Honey, what's done is done. No matter what happens, we'll pull through. We always do.
Okay, here's the plan. You can move in with your sisters and raise the kids. And I'll... die in a gutter. It's practical and within our means.
That's okay, Bart. Nobody really believed it. We were just trying to scare you.
You know Homer Simpson?
Yeah, nice guy. Play poker with him once in a while.
Hmmm huh. We uh, need him beaten up.
You got it.
What is it?
Ah, nothing.
Beat, but don't kick.
Hold the kicks. Got it.
Uh, um, umm...
Hey, what did Homie do anyway?
He saved Mr. Burns' life!
In closing, gentle reader, I'd like to thank you. What's that you say? Me thanking you? No, it's not a misprint. For you see, I enjoyed writing this book as much as you enjoyed reading it. The end.
Ah Smithers, how'd the beating go?
Sir, uh... there was no beating.
What? Well that's a hell of a thing! Why?
Because... I... I called it off.
I'm sorry, sir. But I just couldn't hurt Homer Simpson. He saved your life.
I know you're mad at me, but I think it's only fair to warn you, I'm going to stand outside the gate until you forgive me.
No need, Smithers. As usual, you've been the sober "ying" to my raging "yang." Put 'er there, old pal.
Sir, while I wish this handshake would never end, I'm, I'm afraid we still have the Simpson matter to attend to.
We do indeed, old friend. We do indeed.
Moe's Tavern. Where the elite meet to drink.
Eh, yeah, hello, is Mike there? Last name, Rotch.
Hold on, I'll check. Mike Rotch. Mike Rotch. Hey, has anybody seen Mike Rotch, lately?
Listen you little puke. One of these days I'm gonna catch you, and I'm gonna carve my name on your back with an ice pick.
What's the matter Homer? You're not your normal effervescent self.
I got my problems, Moe. Give me another one.
Homer, hey, you should not drink to forget your problems.
Yeah, you should only drink to enhance your social skills.
We'll get the Simpsons a present, an extravagant present! A mad, unthinkable, utterly impossible present! A frabulous, grabulous, zip-zoop-zabulous present!
Ooo, too practical.
Too cutesy-poo.
Too cornball.
A pool table? Are you mad? I'm not gonna turn his home into a saloon.
Eureka! We've found it!
B-but, sir... it's thirty-two thousand dollars.
Don't you dare sully this moment with your price taggery! It's perfect!
Oh, woe is me.
Oh, my! It's Mr. Burns.
Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho!
Wait, Dad, he's smiling.
Mr. Burns, you brought us a present.
Why, what did you think I was going to do -- have you beaten to a bloody pulp?
To show there's no hard feelings, please take an advance copy of my book, "Will There Ever Be A Rainbow?" And now, young fellow, I haven't forgotten you. Here.
Wow! A crowbar!
It's to open the crate, stupid.
What did I tell you? I'll bet it's filled with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, pearls...
Wow! A big ugly head!
Actually, son, it's a big, ugly Olmec Indian head. It was carved by Meso-American Indians over 3,000 years ago. This gruesome customer is Xt'tapalatakettle, the god of war.
Awesome!
No, Maggie. Not Az-tec. Ol-mec. Ol-mec.
Marge, what does it do?
It doesn't do anything.
Marge! Really, what does it do?
Whatever it does, it's doing it now.
Well, I'll let you get acquainted with Señor Xt'tapalatakettle. Ta!
Did you see their faces, Smithers?
Sir, you're my god of generosity.
Save a guy's life, and whattaya get? Nothin'! Worse than nothin'! Just a big, scary rock.
Hey, man, don't bad-mouth the head.
Homer, it's the thought that counts. The moral of this story is, "A good deed is its own reward."
Hey, we got a reward. The head is cool!
Well then, I guess the moral is, "No good deed goes unrewarded."

Well, I'm still gonna run!

I want the whole world to hear the story of my harrowing struggle with hypohemia.

Well, sir, Mr. Roman is one of the finest ghostwriters in the business.

He's written "Like Hell I Can't!"... "Up From The Muck"... and "The Unsinkable Sadruddin Mahbaradad!"

Excellent.

All right, all right. First question? Have you slept with anyone famous?

Well, Countess Van Zeplin and I... What in blaze... Now you listen to me, you bargain basement Baudelaire. I'm not some dizzy starlet who can't string two words together. I can write this thing myself. You're fired.

Hello, my name is Mr. Burns. I believe you have a letter for me.

Okay, Mr. Burns. What's your first name?

I don't know.

Great plan, Bart.

Ooh, look, Maggie, what is that? Do-dec-ah-edron. Dodecahedron.

Lisa, I don't know what you're doing, but it's very strange and your father is trying to worry.

"Chapter the Fifth... A Trip to the Infirmary, With Most Unexpected Results."

Twenty eight minutes till Burns comes. Time for operation Mail Take.

Can I help you?

They always told me I was gonna destroy the family, but I never believed it.

Oh, don't be frightened of this. It's nothing but a letter opener. Who are you?

Homer Simpson.

Simpson, eh? Simpson. Oh, why, there's a letter here from you. I'll just read it right now. "Dear Mr. Burns. I'm so glad you enjoyed my son's blood. And your card was just great." Why, Simpson. You've made my day. You're a true gentleman.

Yeah, well I'll be on my --

Hello, there's more. "In case you can't tell, I'm being sarcastic..."

"...you stink, you are a senile, buck-toothed..." "...old mummy... with bony girl arms and you smell like an elephant's butt!"

Hey, c'mon, Joey! Do you have to twist my arm?

Homer, I don't tell you how to do your job. Okay?

I could crush him like an ant, but it would be too easy. No, revenge is a dish best served cold. I'll bide my time until... Oh, what the hell. I'll just crush him like an ant.

"Senile," eh? "Buck-toothed," am I? "Bony arms," are they? "Liver spots," did I? "Chinless," will you?

His pink slip awaits your signature, sir.

Now, that's odd. I've just robbed a man of his livelihood, and yet I feel strangely empty. Tell you what, Smithers. Have him beaten to a pulp.

But, sir --

But what?

Nothing, sir.

Oh, I've never seen Mr. Burns this mad and he's always kinda mad.

Me and my big... letter writing pen!

Honey, what's done is done. No matter what happens, we'll pull through. We always do.

Okay, here's the plan. You can move in with your sisters and raise the kids. And I'll... die in a gutter. It's practical and within our means.

That's okay, Bart. Nobody really believed it. We were just trying to scare you.

You know Homer Simpson?

Yeah, nice guy. Play poker with him once in a while.

Hmmm huh. We uh, need him beaten up.

You got it.

What is it?

Ah, nothing.

Beat, but don't kick.

Hold the kicks. Got it.

Uh, um, umm...

Hey, what did Homie do anyway?

He saved Mr. Burns' life!

In closing, gentle reader, I'd like to thank you. What's that you say? Me thanking you? No, it's not a misprint. For you see, I enjoyed writing this book as much as you enjoyed reading it. The end.

Ah Smithers, how'd the beating go?

Sir, uh... there was no beating.

What? Well that's a hell of a thing! Why?

Because... I... I called it off.

I'm sorry, sir. But I just couldn't hurt Homer Simpson. He saved your life.

I know you're mad at me, but I think it's only fair to warn you, I'm going to stand outside the gate until you forgive me.

No need, Smithers. As usual, you've been the sober "ying" to my raging "yang." Put 'er there, old pal.

Sir, while I wish this handshake would never end, I'm, I'm afraid we still have the Simpson matter to attend to.

We do indeed, old friend. We do indeed.

Moe's Tavern. Where the elite meet to drink.

Eh, yeah, hello, is Mike there? Last name, Rotch.

Hold on, I'll check. Mike Rotch. Mike Rotch. Hey, has anybody seen Mike Rotch, lately?

Listen you little puke. One of these days I'm gonna catch you, and I'm gonna carve my name on your back with an ice pick.

What's the matter Homer? You're not your normal effervescent self.

I got my problems, Moe. Give me another one.

Homer, hey, you should not drink to forget your problems.

Yeah, you should only drink to enhance your social skills.

We'll get the Simpsons a present, an extravagant present! A mad, unthinkable, utterly impossible present! A frabulous, grabulous, zip-zoop-zabulous present!

Ooo, too practical.

Too cutesy-poo.

Too cornball.

A pool table? Are you mad? I'm not gonna turn his home into a saloon.

Eureka! We've found it!

B-but, sir... it's thirty-two thousand dollars.

Don't you dare sully this moment with your price taggery! It's perfect!

Oh, woe is me.

Oh, my! It's Mr. Burns.

Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho!

Wait, Dad, he's smiling.

Mr. Burns, you brought us a present.

Why, what did you think I was going to do -- have you beaten to a bloody pulp?

To show there's no hard feelings, please take an advance copy of my book, "Will There Ever Be A Rainbow?" And now, young fellow, I haven't forgotten you. Here.

Wow! A crowbar!

It's to open the crate, stupid.

What did I tell you? I'll bet it's filled with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, pearls...

Wow! A big ugly head!

Actually, son, it's a big, ugly Olmec Indian head. It was carved by Meso-American Indians over 3,000 years ago. This gruesome customer is Xt'tapalatakettle, the god of war.

Awesome!

No, Maggie. Not Az-tec. Ol-mec. Ol-mec.

Marge, what does it do?

It doesn't do anything.

Marge! Really, what does it do?

Whatever it does, it's doing it now.

Well, I'll let you get acquainted with Señor Xt'tapalatakettle. Ta!

Did you see their faces, Smithers?

Sir, you're my god of generosity.

Save a guy's life, and whattaya get? Nothin'! Worse than nothin'! Just a big, scary rock.

Hey, man, don't bad-mouth the head.

Homer, it's the thought that counts. The moral of this story is, "A good deed is its own reward."

Hey, we got a reward. The head is cool!

Well then, I guess the moral is, "No good deed goes unrewarded."