* The Simpsons *
D'oh!
Aah!
Ugh!
They say the pancakes here stink.
Thank you, Agnes.
Let's begin.
I'm happy to report
that our shares in Dynaflux Unimatics
are up a delicious seven and three-quarters.
This means our investment club portfolio
has nearly doubled in value.
I suggest we pump our profits
into some new high-risk ventures.
Oh! Oh! How about Oklasoft?
It's Oklahoma's fastest-growing software company.
Um, cushions?
Everybody likes to sit on cushions.
Children are so fat today.
Isn't there some way we could make money off that?
There's a franchise fair this weekend.
Why don't we buy a business?
I never thought of that.
I'm not wild about these high-risk ventures.
They sound a little risky.
Oh, Marge.
You are such a wet blanket.
If we'd listened to you,
we wouldn't have sponsored that Mexican wrestler.
Yet she still gets to share in all the profits.
- Mm-hmm. - Is that fair?
I guess I'm just not comfortable
with the whole idea of "investing."
Face it.
You can't keep up with the go-go '90s.
Well, Marge…
You're about as popular as rug burn.
All in favor of expelling Marge
from the Investorettes…
Aye!
All right, Helen.
If I'm not wanted, I'll leave.
You'll get your pancakes in the mail.
And then they gave me back
my $500 investment
and kicked me out of the club.
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.
Back up a bit now.
When are the pancakes coming in the mail?
Well, maybe it's all for the best.
What do you need to make money for anyway?
As long as I have my earning power,
this family's got nothing to worry about.
Oww!
Oh, call work and tell them I won't be in tomorrow.
Mom, this is no time to be conservative.
Let's roll the dice here.
It would be nice to beat those women
at their own game.
Maybe I should look into a franchise.
Greetings, humans. I am Investo the Robot from the planet Opportuniac.
My superior brain advises you to enter the franchise fair.
Well, we're trying to, but you're blocking our way.
Danger! Danger!
Don't forget to pick up pamphlets.
I'll handle this.
Help, help, help.
Security code 30.
Well, that's the miracle of the franchise.
You get all the equipment and know-how you need,
plus a familiar brand name people trust.
You'll be on a rocket ride to the moon.
And while you're there,
would you pick up some of that nice green moon money
for me… Royce McCutcheon?
No deal, McCutcheon.
That moon money is mine.
Now, folks, I don't want to alarm you,
but scientists say 40% of America's pictures
are hanging crooked.
No! No!
Yeah, it's true, and I hear you asking,
"Well, who's going to straighten out all these artistic abominations?"
Your friends? A neighbor?
Those fat cats in Washington?
Good luck. Hey, you know, maybe no one will notice.
Maybe the problem will just fix itself.
Now, you're the one who's being naive.
Okay, fair enough.
But you sound like
you're ready to become your own boss
in the exciting world of frame-nudging.
Yes, for a minimal franchise fee
you'll receive a pair of straightening gloves,
a canister of wall lubricant,
and a booklet of the most commonly asked questions
you will hear,
including "Who are you?" And "What are you doing here?"
Hmm, I don't want to own my own business.
I don't know why I came here in the first place.
Hello, Helen.
Marge.
Edna.
Marge.
Uh…
Oh, my name is Agnes, and you know it's Agnes.
It means lamb… Lamb of God.
I'm sorry, Agnes.
Marge.
* Do the hustle *
Did you know
that disco record sales were up 400%
for the year ending 1976?
If these trends continue…
Aay!
Uh, your fish are dead.
Yeah, I know.
I can't get them out of there.
Hmm, pita.
Well, I don't know about food
from the Middle East.
Isn't that whole area a little iffy?
Hey, I'm no geographer.
You and I, why don't we call it pocket bread, huh?
What's tahini?
Flavor sauce.
And falafel?
Crunch patties.
So, we'd be selling foreign…
Specialty foods.
Here, try a Ben Franklin.
Mmm, that is good.
What's in it?
Tabbouleh and rezmi-kabob.
Uh, that's our chef, Christopher.
I could see eating this.
I really could, and I am not kidding.
Look at them!
They've jumped on the one franchise
I might possibly have considered
thinking about becoming interested in.
I'm not cut out for the world of business.
Ooh, you sound like me.
Well, the old me,
which was, ironically, the young me.
I was once like you were, young lady…
like all these people…
lost in a sea of flashy gimmicks
and empty promises.
Then God tossed me a life preserver,
a tasty golden brown life preserver.
Here. Try a pretzel.
Mmm!
That's not bad.
It's not only not bad; it's knot bread.
"Knot bread"… You get it?
Huh? Ha-ha? You see?
I do!
"Knot bread."
Let's hear it for the newest members
of the Fleet-A-Pita franchise!
* I'm feeling good from my head to my shoes… *
Maude… Helen…
Agnes… Luanne…
Edna… Bart…
Whoo! We're number one!
We're number one.
Hey, what's going on?
Wait, wait. Hey.
Your franchise… How much?
- $500. - I'll take it!
Congratulations,
and welcome to the dynamic world
of mobile pretzel retailing.
When can I start? What's my territory?
Eh, territory…
Well, let me tell you:
Wherever a young mother is ignorant
of what to feed her baby, you'll be there.
Wherever nacho penetration is less than total,
you'll be there.
Wherever a Bavarian is not quite full, you will be there.
Don't forget fat people.
They can't stop eating.
Hey! Pretzels!
Oh. Hello.
I'm Frank Ormand. And if you're watching me,
that means you've got pretzel fever,
and not the kind that attacked my intestinal lining
some years back.
So let's get your franchise up and running.
Start by setting up an office in your basement or garage.
An automatic garage door opener makes you feel
like you're working in a futuristic wonderworld.
Next: Blanket your community with flyers.
A phony ticker-tape parade
will help you avoid littering laws.
Welcome back, space girl.
Now you're ready to make pretzels.
Open your bag of ingredients…
Ugh.
Check for millipedes.
Eww.
Hmm, hmm, hmm.
Hey, what's all that commotion outside?
Why, it's one of those pretzel wagons
the movie stars are always talking about.
Here? At our plant?
That's right, Lenny.
Let's all give in to deliciousness
the pretzel wagon way.
Yay!
- Yeah. - That's pretzeltastic.
Let's go. Yeah. Homer's right.
Oh, yeah.
Wow, Mom, look at all those customers.
Hairnets, everyone.
Welcome to Pretzel Wagon.
May I take your order?
Uh, let's see.
I'll have… One…
Hey, hurry up.
I want to get my pretzel.
One pretzel.
Thank you.
Uh, let's see, um…
I will have one of your, uh…
Come on, come on, while we're young.
* Don't stop thinking about tomorrow… *
Wow, check out that van.
It looks like it doesn't even need our business.
Hey, let's go.
* It'll be better than before *
* Yesterday's gone *
Excuse me.
I had this spot first.
Sorry, dear. Just business. Ha!
Well, I guess Macy's and Gimbels learned
to live side by side.
Gimbels is gone, Marge, long gone.
You're Gimbels.
Very well.
There must be dozens of great locations in this town.
Don't you worry about me.
Hey, slow down.
I wants to talk to you.
Give us 300 pretzels.
You see? A little persistence and patience paid off.
That'll be $300.
Hey, I don't think so.
I got me 300 coupons.
I should have said, "Limit: One per customer."
Should've, but didn't, so hand them over.
Hey, kids, we're eating dinner tonight.
Come on, Tiffany,
Heather, Cody, Dylan,
Dermot, Jordan, Taylor,
Brittany, Wesley, Rumer,
Scout, Cassidy, Zoe,
Chloe, Max, Hunter, Kendall
Caitlin, Noah, Sascha, Morgan,
Kyra, Ian, Lauren
Q-bert, Phil.
"Hang in there, baby."
You said it, kitty.
"Copyright 1968"?
Hmm, determined or not, that cat must be long dead.
That's kind of a downer.
They're good pretzels, Mom,
but you got to think big.
Find a major public event and set up shop there.
Here you go.
Free Pretzel Wagon pretzels for everyone.
One bite and you'll be hooked.
- Thank you. - Gracias.
That means "Thank you," Marge.
Ladies and gentlemen, a winner has been chosen
for today's giveaway.
And the 1997 Pontiac Astrowagon
goes to the fan sitting
in seat number 0001:
C. Montgomery Burns.
Yay! Yay!
And the fans do not like this one bit.
And here come the pretzels.
No. No, don't do that.
You're supposed to be tasting them.
Hall-of-famer Whitey Ford now on the field
pleading with the crowd for some kind of sanity.
Uh-oh, and a barrage of pretzels now
knocking Whitey unconscious.
Wow, this is, uh…
This is a black day for baseball.
Oh, cheer up, Mom.
You can't buy publicity like that.
Thousands and thousands of people saw your pretzels
injuring Whitey Ford.
You could call them Whitey-Whackers.
I was wrong to have a dream…
Wrong as usual.
I mean, if you're nothing special, why kid yourself?
Oh, Mom, no.
Listen to your mother, kids.
Aim low.
Aim so low no one will even care if you succeed.
Dinner's in the oven.
If you want some butter, it's under my face.
Marge needs help, and God knows I'm not the man to provide it,
but I know who can.
Ah, it looks likes Mr. Pretzel-man
is doing pretty well for himself.
I'm here to see Mr. Ormand.
Of course. Right this way.
Oh, I guess I should speak to the executor of his estate.
He's right over there.
They were in the same car.
You're my last hope.
I've never reached out to you before,
but my wife is in her hour of need.
Your help could make all the difference in the world.
Okay.
See, boss?
I told you that ad in the church bulletin
would pay off.
Hello?
No. Pretzel Wagon's no longer…
300 pretzels?
Wait. Wait. Let me get this down.
Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.
Meat Packer's Union Hall, Batavia, New York.
I'll send them right out.
Homer.
Homie, wake up.
Wake up, I'm back in business.
I had a feeling things would work out for you, honey.
Hey, what are you doing?
This is a pretzel town, pretty boy.
Are you sure the children will get enough nutrition
from these pretzels?
Yes, I am sure.
Sure as sure can be.
Oh, my God, what happened to your fingers?
Boating accident.
I believe it was a "boking" accident.
I have to go now.
I don't understand why they won't unload
our falafel fixings.
Ship's impounded, ma'am.
Yeah. We found a couple of barnacles
on the hull.
That and, uh, the deck was, uh, wet.
That's crazy.
And what are those men doing under my van?
Let's get out of here!
Look, lady, if I was you,
I would just leap into the air
as I'm preparing to do.
Here you go, Homer.
Thanks, Moe.
Ah, Homer, you know your money's no good here.
Hey, wait a minute. This is real money!
Yeah. My wife is raking it in.
Greetings, Homer.
Hey, Fat Tony.
You still with the mafia?
Uh, yes, I am.
Thank you for asking.
Now, Homer, as you no doubt recall,
you were done a favor by our…
how shall I say… mafia crime syndicate.
Oh, yeah.
Now the time has come for you to do us a favor.
You mean the mob only did me a favor
to get something in return?
Oh, Fat Tony…
I will say good day to you, sir.
Okay, I will go.
Hey, wait a minute.
Well, here I am,
11905 Dead Weasel Road.
I don't see any apartment building.
I just…
Hey, what's going on?
Is there a button or a release for these keys?
Oh. Oh, you have to push in as you turn.
- Ah. - Yeah, that's it.
- Who are you? - We are your business partners,
and as such, we are entitled to a percentage of your profits.
Something in the area of 100%.
What are you talking about?
We suggest you have a conversation
with your husband.
You have 24 hours to give us our money.
And to show you we're serious,
you have 12 hours.
- Huh? - See you at 6 a.m.
Homer, did you tell the mafia
they could eliminate my competitors
with savage beatings and attempted murder?
In those words?
Yes.
It just sickens me.
How could you do this to someone you love?
How could I not?
I saw you pouring your heart and soul
into this business and getting nowhere.
I saw you desperately trying
to cram one more salty treat
into America's already bloated snack hole.
So I did what I could.
I did what any loving husband would do.
I reached out to some violent mobsters.
Oh, Homer, I know you were trying
to shield me from failure
but this is my business,
and the mafia's not getting one cent of my money.
So what are we going to do?
We're going to do what we do every day.
We're going to make pretzels.
There. That's the last one.
I had that dream again.
Oh, thank God, it's only Grampa.
Now what?
Sorry we're late.
Could we have the money now?
The answer is no.
I'm afraid I must insist.
You see, my wife, she has been most vocal
on the subject of the pretzel monies.
"Where's the money?
"When are you going to get the money?
Why aren't you getting the money now?"
And so on.
So, please… The money.
You heard her. She said no.
Legs, Louie, advance on them.
There they are.
Well, well, if it isn't Marge Simpson
and her gangland cronies.
Your goon squads certainly gave you the edge
in the mobile snack business.
But I'm afraid we've outdone you once again.
Hiroshi, Yukio.
Perhaps you've heard of the Yakuza,
the Poison Fists of the Pacific Rim?
The Japanese mafia.
They'll kill you five times before you hit the ground.
- All right. - Go!
Hey!
Take that. Take this.
Come here, you little squirt.
Homie, maybe we should go inside.
But, Marge, that little guy
hasn't done anything yet.
Look at him. He's going to do something
and you know it's going to be good.
Aw…
You must hate me, Marge.
Every time I try to help,
I just fail miserably.
Oh, I don't hate you for failing.
I love you for trying.
What's going on outside?
Oh, it's just a mob war.
Go back to sleep, honey.
Forgiveness, please.
♪♪
CAPTIONS ENHANCED BY ROUNDABOUT ENTERTAINMENT INC.