No way, Bart. If I lean over, I leave myself open to wedgies, wet willies, or even the dreaded rear-admiral!— Milhouse
Homer: Oh my God! someone's trying to kill me!! Oh, wait, it's for Bart.
Bart: Grampa, Matlock;s not real.
Grampa: Neither are my teeth, but I can still eat corn on the cob, if someone cuts it off and smushes it into a fine paste. Now that's good eatin'!
Milhouse: I checked around. The girls are calling you ''fatty-fat fat fat'', and Nelson's planning to pull down your pants, but...nobody's trying to kill you.
Wiggum: I'd like to help you ma'am, but, heh heh, I'm afraid there's no law against mailing threatening letters.
Parole officer: Uh, we object to the term "urine-soaked hell-hole" when you could have said, "peepee-soaked heck-hole".
Parole officer: No one who speaks German could be an evil man.
Bart: I'll be Gus, the lovable chimney-sweep. Clean as a whistle, sharp as a thistle, best in all Westminster.
Agent: Now, when I say, "Hello, Mr. Thompson," and press down on your foot, you smile and nod.
Homer: No problem.
Agent: Hello, Mr. Thompson! (presses on Homer's foot)
Homer: (whispers to other agent) I think he's talking to you.
Bart: Mom, Dad, I saw Sideshow Bob and he threatened to kill me!
Homer: Bart, don't interrupt!
Marge: Homer, this is serious!
Homer: Oh, it is not.
Bart: Take him away, boys.
Wiggum: Hey, I'm the chief here! Bake 'em away, toys.
Lou: What'd you say, chief?
Wiggum: Do what the kid said.
Agent: We have some places your family can hide with peace and security: Cape Feare, Terror Lake, New Horrorfield, Screamville...
Homer: Ooo, Ice Creamville
Agent: Uh, No, Screamville.
Homer: Come on, let me cut you a brownie while they're still hot.