The Simpsons

D'oh! (screams)

Marge, stop this crazy thing!

We got the popcorn. Did you get Waiting to Exhale?

Well, they put us on the Waiting to Exhale waiting list,

but they said don't hold your breath.

Did you get Emma? Did you get Emma?

-Did ya, did ya, did ya, huh? -Whoa, whoa.

Calm down, little lady. Take it easy. Take it easy.

-(chuckles) No. -What did you get?

Something very close, exactly along those lines.

A Clint Eastwood, Lee Marvin shoot-'em-up Western!

So prepare yourself for the bloody mayhem and unholy carnage

of Joshua Logan's Paint Your Wagon.

With blood, I bet.

Hey!

That's a pretty sorry-looking wagon you got there, mister.

I reckon it could use a coat of paint.

Well, what are we waiting for?

They're singing!

They're singing, Marge.

Why aren't they killing each other?

Yeah, their guns are right there.

Wait, wait, wait. Here comes Lee Marvin.

Thank God. He's always drunk and violent.

Uh, what the hell is going on in my town?

We're just painting this wagon.

You got a problem with that?

As a matter of fact, I do.

You missed a spot.

Well, grab a brush and join in.

Yeehaw! Mmm.

Who knew that Lee Marvin could do such marvelous splits?

He's dreamy.

Oh, why did they have to screw up a perfectly serviceable wagon story

with all that fruity singing?

I thought it was toe-tapping fun.

Singing is the lowest form of communication.

Homer, you sing all the time.

No, I don't. I hate to rhyme.

And a one, and a two, and a three.

Hello! Human Fly here.

Come on! I stayed up all night dyeing my underwear.

Extra, extra! Be Sharps sing on rooftop!

What? Give me one of those!

Wait a minute. There's nothing in here about the Be Sharps!

-Come back here! Ha-ha!

-It's been done. -(tires screech)

-Pretty, huh, Chief? -It sure is, Lou. It sure is.

Get the tear gas.

Dad, we can't let this happen to Belle. Do something.

Don't you worry, Son.

My friends! Stop!

We could tear it down,

but we'd be tearing down a part of ourselves.

-(horn honks) -(belches)

Eep.

-(squeaking) -(gasps) it's so thick!

Your turn, Bart.

Whoa! That's good squishy.

What's it like, Bart? Bart? Bart?

-(babbling gibberish) -Give me that!

OK. We're young, rich and full of sugar. What'll we do?

Let's go crazy Broadway-style!

Yeah!

-New York is thataway, man. -Thanks, kid.

-(show music continues) -Whoa. Wow.

-(cats yowling, hissing) -Huh? Huh?

Mmm! Free goo.

Hey! Don't Bogart that squishy!

I don't know where you magic pixies came from,

but I like your pixie drink.

-(music continues) -(laughing)

Oh, my head.

Whether igloo, hut or lean-to or a geodesic dome,

there's no structure have been to which I'd rather call my home.

Hello. (yelps)