Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

instead of writing us angry letters tomorrow.
Like Friday the 13th Part I. It's pretty tame by today's standards.
My name is Marge Simpson, and we're not going anywhere.
Something's not quite right about that
Did too!. Too!. T-O-O!. T-O-O, too!. Always!. A-L-W-A-Y-S!. A-L-W-A-Y-S, always!. Did not!. Not!. N-O-T! N-O-T, not!. Never!. N-E-V-E-R!. N-E-V-E-R, never!.
ATH, eh? .... Excellent, Mr. Hartman. Excellent.
The butcher knife, Lisa.
Let's get some applesauce Out here for these porkchops
These are hard to make. They're an advanced race.
We're going to have to live together, so you better get used to it. Please.
But, now, because of your distrustful nature, that can never be.
Hey where did they go? Get us down! Get us down!
-Ah, Marge. -Homer!
What choice do I have?
Take thy beak from out my heart And take thy form from off my door
My soul grew stronger Hesitating then no longer
I slaved in the kitchen for days for you people and--
When you sold me the house you didn't mention one thing.
Well, how about this severed finger!
-And that's all he'll ever say. -Okay. Okay.
-Ooh, a feast. -Will we be invited?
You will die slowly.