The Simpsons

Raging Abe Simpson and His Grumbling Grandson in...

..."The Curse of the Flying Hellfish"

Grampa. I don't mind when you spit at home...

...but I have to work with these people.

Oh, jabberjack. Schoolhouse don't put out spittoons, I ain't responsible.

All right, seniors.

We'd all love to share in your wisdom, experience, yadda yadda yadda.

Let's start with Milhouse's grandfather.

How many of you have a house?

All right. Now, how many of you drove your house to school today?

Well, I did.

No, I'm not Superman. I just own an RV.

Me and the new wife travel the country searching for adventure.

Last fall, we won a chili cook-off in Beaumont, Texas.

You're living in a fool's paradise, Van Houton.

If you fell down in the shower, that thing would be your tomb!

Grampa, hush.

Here. Why don't you spit some more?

No, I'm not Superman. I'm a judge.

Why, just this morning I sentenced my 46th man to death.

No, 47th.

Wow, 47.

- I love you, Grampa. - Yeah, well...

...I may not have a fancy black bathrobe and a hammer like snooty.

But I do have slippers and an oatmeal spoon.

Look!

Bart, perhaps your grandfather would like to come up front...

...and let someone else interrupt. - Oh, please, no.

About time, knothead.

Now...

Hey, listen!

Now, my story begins in 19-dickety-2.

We had to say "dickety" because the kaiser had stolen our word "twenty."

I chased that rascal to get it back, but gave up after dickety-6 miles.

"Dickety"? Highly dubious.

What are you cackling at, fatty? Too much pie, that's your problem.

Now I'd like to digress from my prepared remarks...

...to discuss how I invented the "turlet."

"Turlet."

Stop your snickering! I spent three years on that turlet.

And then he claimed he was the one who turned cats and dogs against each other.

Why is he always making up those crazy stories?

Maybe it's time we put Grampa in a home.

- You already did. - We could put him in one...

...where he can't get out. - No. Old people deserve respect.

Look at Jacques Cousteau and Goldie Hawn.

You wouldn't shut them away like second-class citizens.

Second-class?

What about social security, bus discounts...

...MedicAlert jewelry, Gold Bond Powder...

...pants all the way up to your armpits and all those other senior perks?

If you ask me, old folks have it pretty sweet.

Let's see.

This junk was hardly worth getting up for.

Maybe if I go back to sleep for a few days...

...some good mail will build up. Hey, what's this?

"Asa Phelps has..."

The seventh Hellfish is dead!

That means the fortune's almost mine.

Asa Phelps spent his entire life in Springfield...

...except for four years' service in World War II...

...and one high school day trip.

He worked at the United Strut and Bracing Works as a molders boy...

...until he was replaced by a Moldermatic and died.

Would you do the honors?

Well, Simpson, seven gone.

As soon as you're in your pressboard coffin, the treasure will be mine.

- Over my dead body it will. - That's exactly the point.

Oh, Simpson, can't you go five seconds without humiliating yourself?

How long was that?

Your clownish behavior notwithstanding...

...we have made a gentleman's agreement...

...and sworn on our lives to honor it.

Smithers, I want that man killed.

Well, let's see. "Mesmerists, dowsers, Luddites, alienists...

...Zoroastrians, alphabetizers..."

"Assassins."

I was wondering, sir. Do we really need to...

...settle Abe Simpson? I mean, I'm familiar with his physical state.

Perhaps if we wait, nature will assassinate him for us.

Well, I can't risk it. I won't allow that Simpson to take the Hellfish bonanza.

And I can't get it without his key.

Just the man I need.

Fernando Vidal.

The world's most devious assassin.

Fernando, it's M.B.

Marion Barry. Is it time for another shipment already?

This is Montgomery Burns.

I'm sending you a photo over the faxtrola.

I need you to fly to Springfield and assassinate this man posthaste.

Del Monte.

Enjoy them, old man. They will be your last.

What the...? I'm up. I'm up.

He's more clever than he looks.

Abraham Simpson, your family is here to visit you.

Hot diggity! My family's come to visit me.

Wait a minute. My family never comes to vi...

Not again.

I can't take much more of your blundering numskullery.

I'll be in the car, dudes.

There is one more way to kill a man, but it is as intricate and precise...

...as a well-played game of chess.

Was that me or was that you?

Help! Nurse, someone's trying to kill me.

Okay. We'll do something about that right away.

Let's start by doubling your medication.

Our residents are trying...

...to nap!

Let me in. Someone's trying to kill me.

Sweet, merciful McGillicutty, you gotta open the door!

- Who is it? - It's Grampa.

And it sounds like he's gotten into the horseradish again.

And then a knife flew at my head.

And you were there. And you were there.

Grampa, maybe I should moisten your washcloth.

It's plenty moist. Listen.

Monty Burns is trying to kill me, and it's all because...

- I can't tell you why. - Well, I'm sure you'll make up something.

Maybe you need more of my classmates around.

I gotta hole up here for a while. They might still be after me.

Wow, he's even more agitated than usual. Maybe we should let him stay.

- Where will we put him? - Bart's room.

- Bart's room. - Bart's room.

Dumpster.

Sorry to crowd you, boy. But I'll let you in on a secret.

Burns is after me because he wants the Hellfish bonanza.

If you're gonna stay in my room...

...could you at least stop making up gibberish?

- Gibberish, eh? Then what's this? - Wrinkly gibberish?

I got this in the Second World War II.

Back then, I was known as Sergeant Simpson.

And I commanded the Flying Hellfish...

...the fightingest squad in the fightingest company...

...in the third fightingest battalion in the Army.

And we were all from Springfield.

There was Police Chief Wiggum's father, Iggy Wiggum.

If anybody finds a grenade without a pin, that's mine.

Our radio man, Sheldon Skinner.

All right. Very funny.

Well, I didn't join the service to make friends.

And watching our backs was Private 5th Class Arnie Gumble.

Then there was also Griff, Asa, Ox and Etch. But every unit has a troublemaker.

Ours was a cocky little private named Montgomery Burns.

- Haven't you won the war yet? - Hey, you said you was dead.

Yes. Dead tired. But I'm quite refreshed now. Thank you.

You bossed around the richest, most powerful guy in town.

How come you were a sergeant and he was only a private?

Well, he got busted down for obstructing a probe from J. Edgar Hoover.