The Simpsons
Sundays 8:00 PM on FOXPopular Waylon Smithers Quotes
Mr. Burns: I love you, Smithers.
Smithers: The feeling is more than mutual, sir.
Mr. Burns: What in blue blazes do you think you're doing, Simpson?!
Homer: What do you mean, sir?
Mr. Burns: I mean this! (holds up the picture of Homer with belly dancer)
(Homer gasps)
Mr. Burns: A plant employee carrying on like an over-sexed orangutan in heat! This is a family nuclear power plant, Simpson. Our research indicates that over fifty percent of our power is used by women. (wrinkles up the picture into a ball) I will not have you offending my customers with your bawdy shenanigans!
Homer: It won't happen again, sir, I promise! Can I get outta' your sight now?
Mr. Burns: Wait a minute, Simpson! Smithers, could you please leave the room?
Smithers: Yes, sir.
Mr. Burns: (sadly) Simpson... I am, by most measures, a successful man. I have wealth and power beyond the dreams of you and your clock-punching ilk. And yet, I've led a solitary life. The fair sex remains a mystery to me. You seem to have a way with women. A certain, how should I put it?... "Animal magnétisme". (begging) Help me, Simpson. Tell me your secret.
Homer: Uh, Mr. Burns, in spite of what everybody thinks, I'm no loverboy.
Mr. Burns: (pleasantly) Simpson, I'm asking you nicely.
Homer: I don't really know, sir--
Mr. Burns: (angrily) Simpson!
Homer: (scared) Well, oh, wine 'em! Dine 'em. Bring them flowers. Write them love poetry... sir.
Mr. Burns: Of course! It's simplicity itself! I won't forget this, Simpson. (angrily) Now return to your work! And tell no one of what transpired here.
(Homer pelts Mr. Burns with a snowball.)
Homer: (Chuckles) Gotcha Burnsie!
Mr. Burns: (Chuckles) Why, you young ragamuffin, I was never one to back away from a snowball fight. Smithers, you may fire at will.
Smithers: Certainly, sir!
(Mr. Burns and Smithers study security camera footage.)
Mr. Burns: Morons. Pathetic morons in my employ, stealing my precious money. This is hopeless. None of these cretins deserves a promotion.
Smithers: Well, it's in the union contract, sir. One token promotion from within per year.
Mr. Burns: Wait! Who is that young go-getter? (Points at a monitor with Homer on it.)
Smithers: Well, it sort of looks like (Chuckles) Homer Simpson, only more dynamic and resourceful.
Mr. Burns: Simpson, huh? Hmm. An unspoiled lump of clay to mold in my own image. Our new junior executive. Bring him to me!
(After realizing he is going to lose the election, Mr. Burns starts smashing things in the Simpson home)
Mr. Burns: Smithers, tip over this table for me!
Smithers: Yes, sir.
(Smithers grunts as he turns over the table.)
Marge: Homer. Homer. Make them stop.
Homer: (Clears throat) Uh, Mr. Burns. Um, Mr. Burns?
Mr. Burns: Shut up and wreck something!
(Homer picks up a flower vase and drops it.)
Lisa: Mr. Burns, I hardly see what destroying our meager possessions is going to accomplish.
Mr. Burns: She's right. Take me home, Smithers. We'll destroy something tasteful.
(After dinner at the Simpsons goes badly and costs Mr.Burns the election, he and Smithers head home.)
Mr. Burns: Ironic, isn't it, Smithers? This anonymous clan of slack-jawed troglodytes has cost me the election. And yet, if I were to have them killed, I would be the one to go to jail. That's democracy for you.
Smithers: You are noble and poetic in defeat, sir.
(Mr. Burns greets the Simpson family on Nuclear Power Plant Family Night at Springfield Stadium.)
Smithers: (Whispering) It's the Simpsons, sir
Mr. Burns: Ah, well, if it isn't the Simps!
Homer: Uh, it-it's Simpsons, sir.
Mr. Burns: Huh?
(Smithers hands Mr. Burns an index card with the Simpson family information.)
Mr. Burns: Oh, uh, oh, yes. Homer and Marge Simpson. Oh, and these must be Bart, Lisa, and, uh, "Expecting."
Smithers: Uh, the card needs to be updated, sir.
(Mr. Burns stammers in frustration)
Homer: Well, uh, that's okay. Th-the baby's name isn't important. Let's go, Marge.
(Smithers checks on Bart after Mr. Burns hits him.)
Smithers: Uh-oh. I, uh-I think the boy's hurt.
Mr. Burns: Oh, for crying out loud! Just give him a nickel and let's get going.
Lenny: Hey, Simpson, I heard Mr. Burns crushed your boy!
Homer: Yeah, if I wasn't so spineless, I'd march right into his office right now, and...
Smithers: Simpson! Mr. Burns wants you to march into his office right now
Homer: Uh-oh!
(Homer and Barney drive by Mr. Burns, who is sitting on a park bench.)
Homer: Hey, Burns, eat my shorts! (They drive off)
Mr. Burns: Who the Sam Hill was that?
Smithers: (Looking through binoculars.) Why, it's Homer Simpson, sir. One of the schmoes from Sector 7G.
Mr. Burns: Simpson, eh? I want him in my office at nine o'clock Monday morning. We'll see who eats whose shorts.
(Mr. Burns and Smithers watch security camera footage of Homer inviting the guys over for the big fight.)
Smithers: Um, he's Homer Simpson, sir. One of your drones from Sector 7-G.
Mr. Burns: Excellent. I'm so keen on seeing Watson vs. Tatum II, I'd even go to an employee's house. Oh, I can picture it now. The screen door rusting off it's filthy hinges, mangy dogs staggering about, looking vainly for a place to die.
Smithers: Permission to speak frankly, sir?
Mr. Burns: Permission granted.
Smithers: Well, you are quite wealthy--
Mr. Burns: Thank you, Smithers. Your candor is most refreshing.
Smithers: No, no, I mean, why don't you pay for the fight yourself?
Mr. Burns: Ah, Smithers, the big title fight is one of those rare occasions that I savor the sights, the sounds and (sniffs) ah, yes, the smells of men.
Smithers: You haven't lost the common touch, sir.
Mr. Burns: Good to see you. Glad you could make it.
Father: Oh, thank you, Mr. Burns. I'm so glad you invited us.
Son: Not me. I had to miss little league for this.
Father: Quiet, Tom.
Mr. Burns: Oh please, please, don't fight. Just go out back and have a good time. (to Smithers) Fire that man, Smithers. I don't want him, or his unpleasant family to ruin my picnic.
Smithers: He'll be gone by the tug-of-war, sir.
Mr. Burns: Excellent.
