The Simpsons

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

Our journey begins 65 million years ago

when amazing creatures took their first steps.

It's so cute that all these children

are excited to see their favorite dinosaurs.

These aren't dinosaurs!

Dinosaurs sing!

I want to go back in Mommy!

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!

I paid $800 for five minutes!

The dinosaurs ruled the Earth for millions of years,

until a massive asteroid collided with the Earth,

bringing their reign to an end.

HOMER (singsongy): Ex-tinct!

So remember, take good care of the Earth,

or we could suffer the same fate as the dinosaurs.

Ooh, kids, did you hear that lesson?

How is that the lesson?

The point of the dinosaurs is,

no matter what we do, an asteroid's gonna wipe us out,

so we should party hard and wreck the place!

Yeah! Why should the asteroid have all the fun!

What? They've got a point.

Gift shop! Gift shop!

All right, you can each have one toy.

Lisa has a big toy.

No fair. That means I get two small toys.

No fair. This isn't big, it's medium!

No fair! Then I get four small toys and Lisa gets

one medium and one small.

What?! He gets four and I only get two?

No fair!

All right, that's it! Forget it!

No toys for anyone!

Okay, Maggie gets a toy.

No fair! No fair!

Choke on fossil poop!

Hey, I know you.

Wait! Wait! Come back!

Dad, follow that dinosaur!

I've waited my whole life to hear that.

Triceratops head...

coming through!

Stegosaurus back plates, used for either defense

or control of body temperature, coming through!

So tired.

Go on without me.

You're T.R. Francis!

You wrote

the Angelica Button books.

They're my favorite fantasy novels.

Um, yes, it's me,

the creator of your beloved magical world,

full of whimsy and, uh...

chapters.

Now, off you go. Bye-bye, now.

But why are you working at a dinosaur show?

And why did you run away from me?

And how did Angelica get a new wand

after Baron Mortdeath burned the Wandwood Forest? And...

Look, you seem like a smart kid,

so here's the truth.

T.R. Francis isn't real.

: Of course you're real.

Everybody knows you got the idea for this series

after an explosion at a crumpet factory

knocked you off a double-decker bus.

How could that be made up?

I'm just an actress they use for the jacket photo.

That inspirational life story is pure fiction.

Oh, I hate to break it to you,

but all the books you kids love

are conceived in executive boardrooms.

The plots are based on market research,

and the pages are churned out

by a room full of pill-popping lit majors

desperate for work.

Publishers rake in the cash, and unsuspecting kids

get ten books a year

by their favorite "author."

Everything I believed about "young adult" literature

is a lie!

It's not against the law to sleep in a Tyrannosaurus head.

Sir, you're inside an Allosaurus.

I demand to speak to my paleontologist!

Can I buy lunch early?

I need to buy some carbon-offset credits

so I can burn all my Angelica Button books.

Oh, honey, I'm sorry your book lady turned

out to be a dinosaur.

But you liked the stories when you read them.

So what does it matter?

Doesn't it bother you that Betty Crocker

is an invention of '20s-era ad men?

I know you're hurting, but that's no reason

to lash out at me.

Can you believe publishers would lie to their readers

just to make an easy million bucks?

A million bucks?!

Every book on the "young adult" charts

is written by five idiots

who just want to take advantage of kids.

I know five idiots!

And they just cash their checks and get away with it every time.

It's the perfect crime.

As long as you don't mind betraying the trust

of vulnerable young minds.

The perfect crime, eh?

Whatever the job is, I'm not interested.

A million bucks has changed stupider minds than yours.

I like the beat, play me the tune.

We're taking down kids who read.

Chapter-book crowd? That's a juicy peach.

But what's the cream?

I'm putting together a tween-lit gang-write.

- Tween-lit gang-write? - Tween-lit gang-write.

But this Babar needs a Zephyr.

A Zephyr? You're the Zephyr.

This better not turn out like Kansas City.

It won't be like Kansas City.

Come on, Skinner, you're the best kid-man in the business.

You've read their notes, searched their lockers--

you know how tweens think.

Oh, no, thanks, gentlemen,

I've got a nice, quiet life here

and I mean to keep it that way.

Your friends are looking at my bloomers!

Wash 'em again!

With your share of the money,

you could get your own studio apartment.

The refrigerator could have my magnets on it.

I'm in.

Come on, beautiful, I can't do the job without you.

So, what do you say...

D'oh!

Ow.

Our crew needs you, Bouvier.

You've read enough fantasy novels

to choke a hippogriff. Mm...

It's true. I'm fluent in every imaginary language,

from Dothraki to Parseltongue.

I wouldn't join one of your harebrained schemes

for all the Japanese girlfriend pillows in Kyoto!

We're not here for you, we're here for Lenny.

Sorry, guys.

I just adopted a capuchin monkey,

and I can't leave it alone during the bonding phase.

Wait, wait, wait, I want in!

What does your crew need, a safecracker?

A-A wheel man?

The caper is writing a kids' fantasy novel.

Well, I, uh, I don't like to brag about it, but I did publish

five modestly successful children's books.

Hmm?

All we need now is a computer guy.

Do you have a computer?

Uh, yes.

You're in. In what?

I keep going over the job from every angle,

but I can't shake the feeling that we're missing something.

Relax. With the team we put together,

our book'll fly off the shelves,

and we'll be sipping Mai Tais on a beach in Shelbyville.

You're group-writing a book?

But the only reason anyone would ever do that is... (gasps)

: profit!

Like no one ever writes for money, Lisa.

I don't see your boyfriend William Shakespeare

missing too many meals.

I'll show you!

I'll write a book myself!

A personal story my readers will connect with.

Wait, you're gonna be all the guys?

How would that work?

This is how real writers do it.

I'll just bang out 2,000 words, and then I'll stop--

even if I'm on fire.

I got to pace myself.

Chapter one.

Wait. I can't start without music to inspire me.

Why is Bach next to Muddy Waters?

That's my problem-- I got to get these CDs organized.

There. Finished.

Now, if I win just two more games of online Boggle,

I'll be ready to start writing.

Spot, stop, sop, top-tops,

pot-pots, opt-opts...