Mr. Burn's Best Moments

We're losing altitude.

Time to dump all unnecessary weight.

What?

Don't dump me out.

I can lose weight.

Just give me a chance.

One, two...

I'd rather die.

It's no use.

We've got to make an emergency landing.

Well, at least we're all in this together.

Now, we have three parachutes.

This one's for me, and these two are gifts for my nephews.

Tally-ho!

Why, you fool?

I tried to explain to you, sir.

This thing has never actually worked.

Smithers, you must believe.

Next stop, Pirate Island!

Well, that was a pretty good party.

Do you think Carol from payroll and Mike from shipping are going to hook up?

He's married.

Change course!

Carol must be warned!

Why won't you come down?

I told you, I only weigh as much as my clothes and keys.

Comrades, our nation is completely bankrupt.

We have no choice but to abandon communism.

I know, I know, I know.

But we all knew from day one this mumbo-jumbo wouldn't fly.

I'll call Washington and tell them they won.

But Presidente, America tried to kill you.

Ah, they're not so bad.

They even named a street after me in San Francisco.

It's full of what?

Presidente, three men are here to see you.

They claim to have a trillion-dollar bill.

Ay, caramba!

Oh, so the island's not for sale, eh?

Well, will you at least permit us to live in your socialist paradise?

You're talking about Cuba?

Exactly.

All we ask is preferential treatment because of my fabulous wealth.

May I see?

See with your eyes, not with your hands.

Please, we are all amigos here.

Mr. Burns, I think we can trust the president of Cuba.

Now give it back.

Give what back?

Boo.

Now, doctor, I want you to test me for everything.

Every disease on this chart.

Fine.

We'll just start by drawing some blood.

Well, isn't that odd?

It's like poking through meringue.

Oh, try this arm.

I saw some blood in there the other day.

Come on, keep blowing.

Okay, 12 centimeters.

Excellent.

I am a big boy.

There's your problem.

Well, Doc, I think I did pretty well on my tests.

You may shake my hand if you like.

Well, under the circumstances, I'd rather not.

Mr. Burns, I'm afraid you are the sickest man in the United States.

You have everything.

You mean I have pneumonia?

Yes.

Juvenile diabetes?

Yes.

Hysterical pregnancy?

A little bit, yes.

You also have several diseases that have just been discovered in you.

I see.

You're sure you just haven't made thousands of mistakes?

Uh, no.

No, I'm afraid not.

This sounds like bad news.

Well, you'd think so, but all of your diseases are in perfect balance.

If you have a moment, I can explain.

Well, here's the door to your body, you see?

And these are oversized novelty germs.

That's influenza, that's bronchitis, and this cute little cuddle bug is pancreatic cancer.

Here's what happens when they all try to get through the door at once.

Move it, counterhead.

We call it Three Stooges Syndrome.

So what you're saying is I'm indestructible.

Oh, no, no.

In fact, even a slight breeze could... Indestructible.

Oh, hold your accolades to the end of the tour.

You haven't seen the best part.

I couldn't watch your demonstration of the fish caught in the plastic rings without getting an idea.

Look out over the water.

I figured if one six-pack holder will catch one fish, a million sewn together will catch a million fish.

What's going on?

I call it the Burns Omni-Net.

It sweeps the sea clean.

Oh, dear God.

I call our product Little Lisa's Patented Animal Slurry.

It's a high-protein feed for farm animals, insulation for low-income housing, a powerful explosive, and a top-notch engine coolant.

And best of all, it's made from 100% recycled animals.

I think I'm gonna be sick.

Oh, a spoonful of slurry will cure what ails you.

Oh, you haven't changed at all.

You're still evil, and when you're trying to be good, you're even more evil.

I don't understand.

Pigs need food.

Engines need coolant.

Dynamiters need dynamite.

I'm supplying it to them at a tidy profit, and not a single sea creature was wasted.

You inspired it all, little Lisa.

Hey there, Dean.

I understand you're taking suggestions from students, eh?

Well, me and my fourth form chums think it would be quite corking if you'd sign over your oil well to the local energy concern.

Mr. Burns.

It was naive of you to think I would mistake this town's most prominent 104-year-old man for one of my elementary school students.

I want that oil well.

I've got a monopoly to maintain.

I own the electric company and the waterworks, plus the hotel on Baltic Avenue.

That hotel's a dump and your monopoly's pathetic.

The school's oil well is not for sale, particularly to a black-hearted scoundrel like yourself.

I see.

Then I'll just have to attack you.

I must have that oil.

Smithers, Smithers, help me subdue this beast.

Sorry, sir, this is all I could find.

Take that and that.

Please don't waste those.

I paid a pretty penny for this pretty penny, but it was worth it.

Mr. Burns, my son and I have been collecting coins.

It's really brought us closer together.

That penny you bought tonight would mean the world to him.

Yes, but the problem is, if you had it, I wouldn't.

You see the difficulty?

Yeah.

I'll tell you what.

At least help me buy the boy a gumball.

Do you have change for a nickel?

Oh, of course.

Smithers, step on it.

I only gave him four cents for that nickel.

Monty Burns wins.

Ah!

Cereal.

Oh, my.

I wonder which is the cereal for me.

Oh, excuse me.

Could you tell me where I might find the Burns-oos?

Sorry, Pops.

They don't put nobodies on cereal boxes.

Hmm.

Well, I suppose this one looks a bit like me.

Oh, thank you, Sharpie.

I ventured in to search for milk when the door snapped shut behind me.

Yeah, those dairy cases are death traps.

Ketchup.

Katsup.

Ketchup.

Katsup.

Katsup.

I'm in way over my head.

He's talking to the ketchup now.

Burns is sure acting nutty.

Maybe going broke and losing his plans destroyed his brain.

Could you come along with us, sir?

Are you here to solve my ketchup problem?

Yes, that's right.

It's time for the saucy antics of Springfield's own basket bells.

Enough of this vulgarity.

Back to your brothel, harlots.

Now, enjoy your game and the madcap antics of the freewheeling titleholder of this asset, me.

Sir, were those real bullets?

Yes.

Was that a real gorilla?

No.

I see.

Oh, I hope I'm not too late.

Take potion.

Hurry.

Oh, it's not working.

Only my sour curdled breath will quicken him.

Sir, you saved my life.

Yes.

Spithers, I was a stingy old fool.

But from now on, I'll provide drug benefits to all my full-time employees.

So, that's how I was outfoxed by a little girl and her half-wit companion when my beautiful stadium was declared a bee sanctuary and I had to take a third quarter write-down of $804 million.

Wait a minute.

Someone crunched the numbers.

He's only worth $996,036,000.

He's not a billionaire at all.

Wait, wait.

Oh, don't worry.

You'll feel a lot more comfortable in the... millionaire's cab.

No, no.

Just kill me now.

Howdy-do.

I own the minor league hockey team.