The Simpsons

Aah!

Ooh!

- Yeah. Yeah? - Yeah. Yeah!

- Yeah? Yeah? - Yeah.

- Yeah! - Hey, what's the problem here?

We were fighting over which one of us loves you more.

You were? Aw, well, go ahead.

- You love him more. - No, you do.

- No, I don't. No, I don't. - Yes, you do!

Look, you better get this all out of your system right now!

I don't want you embarrassing me at my boss's picnic.

Marshmallow.

Homer!

I'm trying to get at least some of the unfortunate noises

out of my system while I can, Marge.

I don't want to embarrass myself at the company picnic.

Are you sure that's enough?

You know how the boss loves your delicious gelatin desserts.

Homer, Mr. Burns just said he liked it... once.

That's the only time he's ever spoken to me

without using the word "bonehead."

There it is, kids!

Stately Burns Manor. Heaven on Earth.

Okay, now look, my boss is gonna be at this picnic.

I want you to show your father some love and/or respect.

- Tough choice. - I'm thinking respect.

Good to see you. Glad you could make it.

Thank you, Mr. Burns, I'm so glad you invited us.

Not me. I had to miss little league for this.

Quiet, Tom.

Please, please don't fight.

Just go out back and have a good time.

Fire that man, Smithers.

I don't want him or his unpleasant family

to ruin my picnic.

He'll be gone by the tug-of-war, sir.

- Excellent. - Afternoon, Mr. Burns.

Hi. Hello, there,

- Simpson, Homer. - Here you go, sir.

Yes.

And this must be your lovely wife, Marge.

And look at little, Lisa.

Why, she's growing like a weed.

- And this must be, Brat. - Bart.

Don't correct the man, Brat.

Boss, look what we brought, gelatin desserts.

For the love of Peter. That's all anybody brought.

Some damn fool went around telling everyone

I love that slimy goop.

Well, toss it in the pile over there.

And... make yourselves at home.

Hear that, Dad?

You can lie around in your underwear and scratch yourself.

- Now, you listen to me! - Whoa!

- Trouble, Simpson? - No.

Just congratulating the son on a fine joke about his old man.

Now remember, as far as anyone knows,

we're a nice, normal family.

Hey, Bart, last one in the fountain's a rotten egg!

Hey!

D'Be normal! Be normal!

What an adorable little girl.

Thank you.

Why don't we dump them in the nursery

and get a glass of punch?

I'm not much of a drinker.

Hey, isn't that your boy there torturing the swans?

Bart!

Maybe I will take you up on that punch.

Gee, do you think we should leave the kids unsupervised?

You're right. There.

Bart! Lisa!

- Where are you kids? - Whoops.

- Got ya! - Whoa, careful, Dad.

Blow a gasket, you lose your job.

Now hear this: The father/son sack race

will begin in five minutes on the north lawn.

Participation is mandatory.

Repeat, mandatory. That is all.

You remember the rules from last year?

Yeah. Shut my mouth, and let your boss win.

Hey!

I don't know who to love more:

my son, Joshua, who's captain of the football team;

or my daughter, Amber, who got the lead in the school play.

Usually, I use their grades as a tiebreaker,

but they both got straight A's this term, so...

what's a mother to do?

Well, I sense greatness in my family.

Your family?

Well, it's a greatness that others can't see,

but it's there.

And if it's not true greatness we have,

we're at least average.

I don't want to alarm anyone,

but I think there's a little al-key-hol in this punch.

- Mr. Burns, are you ready? - Yes.

- Are you set? - Yes.

Go, Mr. Burns.

Man, this is pathetic. I'm goin' for it!

Bart, no!

No, wait. No. Bart, don't.

Don't. No!

Close one this year.

- Marge, I need you! - Hey, Homie!

Did you try the punch?

Snap out of it, Marge.

You've gotta come with me. The boss is going to make a toast.

Well, I'm not much of a drinker.

Why, you picked a perfect time to start. You...

Musicians, cease that infernal tootling.

"Thank you all... for coming."

- Marge, knock it off. - Well, I'm sorry.

- I'm sorry. I'm sorry. - Marge!

"But now it's time to say good-bye.

Please, get off my property until next year."

I suggest you don't dawdle.

The hounds will be released in ten minutes.

Did you have a good time, son?

Yeah, thanks, Pop.

Aw, that's the kind of family unity I like to see.

- Smithers! - Yes, sir?

Get that man's name.

I predict big things for him down at the power plant.

Quick, Bart, give me a kiss.

Kiss you? But, Dad, I'm your kid.

Bart, please? Five bucks for a kiss.

I have never seen

such an obvious attempt to curry my favor.

Fabulous observation, sir. Just fabulous.

Boy, I'm glad that's over.

Now we can go home and act normal again.

- What do you mean? - Aw, come on.

That cornball routine.

"I love you, Daddy." Give me a break.

- I pity you. - Why?

- After you. - Well, thank you so much.

- Me first! No, me. Me. Me. - No, me. No, me. Me. Me.

Honey, you look so tired. Would you like me to drive?

Homie, I think I'm going to be sick.

Homie, get in the car.

- This is where you belong. - Yeah, Homer.

Room for one more.

One of us. One of us.

One of us. One of us.

The father of the family

has worked all day

to find this food for his children.

Unable to fend for themselves,

the baby bald eaglets

are dependant on their mother

regurgitating the food which she has found.

- Hey! - Look, everybody.

Yesterday was a real eye-opener.

We've got to do better as a family.

So tonight, we're not going to shovel food in our mouths

while we stare at the TV.

We're going to eat at the dining room table

like a normal family.

- Happy, Dad? - Yes.

Good. Commence shoveling.

No. We're going to say grace first.

Okay. Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub.

No! Ignore the boy, Lord.

Now, can the chatter, and bow your heads.

Dear Lord, thank you for this microwave bounty,

even though we don't deserve it.

I mean, our kids are uncontrollable hellions.

Pardon my French, but they act like savages.

Did you see them at the picnic?

Of course you did. You're everywhere.

You're "omnivorous."

O Lord, why did you smite me with this family?

- Amen! - Let's eat.

No, I'm not done yet!

But Homer, how long are we supposed to sit here

and listen to you bad-mouth us to the man upstairs?

I'm sorry, Marge,

but sometimes I think we're the worst family in town.

Maybe we should move to a larger community.

Don't have a cow, Dad.

The sad truth is, all families are like us.

You think so?

Well, there's only one way to find out. Follow me.

Look at that, kids. No fighting. No yelling.

No belching. The dad has his shirt on.

Look, napkins!

These people are obviously freaks.

You think so?

Well, let's see what's behind door number two.

What are they doing?

They're having a conversation.

They actually enjoy talking to each other.

I wish I could hear what they're saying.

Papa, I believe I heard some rustling in the bushes.

I did too. Better get the gun.

Where's he going?

Probably to get the old man his pipe and slippers.

Whoa, look at this place. What a dump!

It's worse than you think.