I've reserved you for the next five nights.

You know, sometimes it feels like I'm living right next door to Wolfgang Puck.

You know, Donald, I have to hand it to you.

I am gonna sprinkle you with a little Chrissy sugar, then I'm gonna pop you in the oven and bake you at 450 until you're brown as one of my daddy's loafers.

They got to you, didn't they?

Can you explain that to me?

What are you going to do?

Killin' what you try to do

You louse, you had no right to do that.

Well, madam, allow me to thank you the way you've taught me to thank you.

Mom, mom, you have to help me.

You have so much to live for.

I know you have to say that.

Why did you do this to me?

No wonder you never came to visit.

Chrissy, it is my pleasure to present to you the winner's cup.

If something should happen and, well, I'm not able to enjoy life the way I'm able to now, like, well, being able to eat as many Fritos as I like, or pulling ticks off the cat, or watching bananas get those little brown spots on them.

If you can't wait till next Sunday for the big game, get a sneak peek of it Thursday on an all-new Simpsons.

Oh, I gotta hand it to you, Fred.

I've come to make my peace with you.