(Johnny Carson Tonight Show theme playing)
KANG: Live from Rigel 7, Conquerors of Rigels 4 through 6,
it's the 25th annual Treehouse of Horror!
With special guest stars Jennifer Lawrence,
Warren Beatty, John Travolta,
Clint Eastwood, George Clooney,
Prince, Taylor Swift, Sean Penn,
Bruce Springsteen, Helen Mirren,
Morgan Freeman, James Franco,
Kanye West and... Leonardo DiCaprio.
(applause and cheering)
Why?
(Kang and Kodos laughing)
This has been a bad week, even for you, Simpson.
Concrete in the sandbox?
I don't get lost anymore!
Spreading the rumor that today's lunch
would be served by a naked lady.
Move it! Boobs! Boobs!
I want to see boobs in the soup!
There is no naked lunch lady! Bart made it up!
Yes, yes, I-I knew that.
There's no hope for you, Simpson.
You'll be locked in detention
until you graduate to the penal system.
(laughing) Penal.
Stop laughing! I said "penal," not "penile."
(laughs) Penile.
It's not like you made me say "penis"!
(laughing)
(groaning)
Hmm.
Ow! Oh.
Someone could get really hurt by this.
Stick your finger in that desk.
Really, Bart?
Hmm, looks like ancient Aramaic.
Fortunately, I have an app for that.
(beep)
(click, trilling, ding)
Hey!
"He who reads this rune translation
will be taken to damnation"?
(both gasp)
(both scream)
(hissing)
(alarm sounding) SKINNER: Simpson!
(hissing)
(both grunt)
BOTH: Huh?
We're in Hell?!
Cool! Now I can look up all those people
who said "See you in Hell."
Hey, pal, what are you in here for?
Heresies, like Docetism.
Docetism?
The belief that Jesus' body was just an illusion.
Is that still big?
Haw-haw! Your heresies were venialized
by the council of Palermo.
Oh, shut up, shut up, shut up!
(crowd chatter and groaning)
We've got millipedes, toothheads, screaming torsos...
(screaming)
...your bleeding eyes with finger-legs.
And all the girls are mean girls.
Red dress, how original.
Making fun of someone's clothes. How original.
Huh. You want to walk with us?
It's true.
It would be a cold day in Hell when I was popular.
Huh?
Young man, where's your Hell pass?
Skin him!
Whoa.
(gasps)
(grunts)
Huh?
Hmm.
So,
what would be the appropriate eternal torture
for someone who robbed a bank?
(flame whooshing)
Uh...
Someone who robs a bank.
How would you punish them for all time?
Mm... Jeffistopheles?
(in squeaky voice): Uh... wh-whipping?
Okay. Good.
No one likes to be whipped,
but is there anything more connected to the sin?
Torture?
What if you made the robber eat bags of money
until his stomach exploded?
Good. Very good. (high-pitched whooshing)
Mm.
Psychological torment.
Pain plus fear.
Oh, can you all feel how much richer that is?
You get a pumpkin sticker.
Ow.
(gasps) This has never happened before.
I have a crush on my teacher!
Down here, we can make that happen.
(locker door squeaks)
(both giggle)
Every time the sinner screams in pain,
the scream blows this windmill,
which pumps even more piranhas into his aquarium underwear,
causing more screaming.
Wow. Wow. Oh, that is so evil.
And I know evil. I'm head of the teachers' union.
(bell ringing)
(grunting and groaning)
Bart, I found a portal back to Earth.
Right here?
No, no, no, no! That's Super Hell!
Hot Stuff?
I didn't realize you were that evil.
(à la Droopy): No, I'm being punished
for how lame my comics were.
(whooshing)
I melted it. Get it?
(crow caws)
(flames whooshing, hissing)
Welcome to Earth. Local time is 10:37.
We know you have your choice of portals,
so thank you for choosing the Burns Hellport,
a division of Gulf and Western.
(Lisa pants, Bart grunts)
Mom, Dad,
I want to change schools. Hmm?!
I found a place that really wants to teach me,
and I really want to learn.
Homie, our prayers have been answered.
Keep your pants on, Marge.
It's probably some private school
that costs a million dollars a year,
and then they squeeze you for extra money
through book fairs and silent auctions.
And parents get 20 e-mails a day from the school,
and everyone hits "reply all" to everything.
Dad, it's not a private school.
It's free.
Oh, that's fine then.
(man screaming)
I couldn't help noticing this school is located in...
I'm not one to judge, but, um...
I'll say it, Marge. It's in Hell!
The Inferno! Perdition!
Arizona without the golf!
No. We do have golf, but all the greens are tricky.
No!
Look, as educators,
our job is to gently nurture your child's passion.
Hmm. That is the kind of nonsense
you're always falling for.
Mom, please tell me I can go to Hell.
Well, I guess we could try it for a semester.
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
You know, we have many opportunities
for parent involvement.
(scoffs)
Yeah, I'll be sure to take a look at that.
(grunting)
♪ Hell
♪ Hell is for children
♪ And you know that their little lives can become such a mess ♪
♪ Hell
♪ Hell is for children
♪ And you shouldn't have to pay for your love ♪
♪ With your bones and your flesh ♪
Hmm.
♪ No, hell is for children.
Now, students, it's final exam day,
and none of you wants to repeat the class
like a certain student I don't want to embarrass.
Torture?
Uh...
Beelzebart, you're first.
And you're going to torment
a very special sinner we've prepared just for you.
Homer?
That-That's my dad. I can't hurt him.
No, boy. I want you to do it.
What? Why?
Bart, you went to Hell
and came back a winner, like Jesus.
Now, come on, boy.
Pull me apart like string cheese.
D'oh! D'oh! (shrieks)
Webster defines success
as the action of achieving one's goals.
Don't you, Webster?
I don't care! Why am I here?
You changed the "R-E" to "E-R" in "theater."
I hate that!
Well, I'll tell you who supposed to be here--
class mal-edictorian,
Beelzebart Simpson.
(applause and cheering)
(Homer chuckling)
Which one's yours?
(grunting)
Nice.
MOE: That was me, when I was a young hoodlink,
with me three bestest glugs, Leonard, Carlton and Dum.
We was narsty tastards, we were, even though we dressed
like Carol Channing's backup dancers.
Some days, we'd employ a bit of the bash
while having a go at the West End Wiseguys...
Ooh, stop it! Hey, pally, come on.
Hey, what's wrong with youse?
Ooh, I was told this would be a verbal debate! Ooh!
...and cap off the night with a little of the ol' in-out.
ALL: In. Out. (bell dinging)
In. Out. In. Out. (bell dinging)
MOE: Everything was all fish and chippy
until Dum collected himself a twiggy-wick.
(with British accent): Hello, little lamb.
What say we go back to my place
for a little of the old Luther Van?
♪ I can't fool myself, I don't want nobod... ♪
(William Tell Overture plays)
Oy! I'm getting hitched to this bluebird,
and she wants me to give up the glug life.
Welly, welly, well, well, well.
What sorry future could you have
without your truest lunos by your side?
Dum got a job at the Tower of London
as a Beefeater!
I hope it's what I think it is.
MOE: Who knew, my brothers, that when Dum found his Dumpling
that was the end of our band of glugs?
Leonard and Carlton informed me my leadership
was no longer needed.
(grunting)
Ah.
Not the Shard! Not the Shard!
(groaning)
So I took up the respectable life
of a sleazy barkeep.
(sighs heavily)
These eye clamps are the only way I can tolerate today's TV.
TV ANNOUNCER: Tonight on Fox...
(groaning)
Turn it off! I'll be good!
(crying): I'll be good!
(doorbell rings)
There's been a terrible accident, sir.
Please grant me access to your home.
Are you kidding me?
I inventedthat gag.
Please, sir. Certainly a Christian is required
to completely unbolt his door.
Come on, you can't pull the wooly bull over my viddyballs.
(groaning)
That's a bit of the old... haw-haw!
(door squeaking)
(Moe grunting)
(grunting)
Not my Shmoo!
(Moe crying)
(Shmoo shatters)
Those punks got no respect for them what come before.
Didn't even wear no codpieces.
How do they expect to draw the eye to their chunky-wunks?
I need me glugs back for one last bit of barmy.
No! You should not be out glugging,
shin-slicing, or eye groining.
We've got a sweet little toddle to take care of.
(squeaking)
Enough of this quiet home life!
It's time to be a man again.
After all these month-os, I hope we don't disremember
how to dash and bash.
Let's start easy with a little walk into the jay.
(siren blares)
Wait! I recognize those cops
what's be whackin' my gob-topper!
It's Leonard and Carlton!
(laughter)
You blokes want to join me for one last bit o' noggin' boggin'?
I saved your bowlers.
Hmm? Hmm?
Once again, the glugs was hittin' the streets
all slow-motion like-- and just as scarifyin'
and intimidato as ever.
Hey, keep up!
(panting)
We put nasties in a hat and selectoed out one.
♪
(deep, echoing groaning nearby)
Hey, what kind of whoo-hoo is this?
Welcome to the most frustrating, befuddling
and, yes, erotic book release party you've ever attended.
Sir, are you done with my bird mask?
(chuckles): Oh, I don't think you want to wear it now.
I'll be the judge of that.
Come on, me glugs!
Let's show these nectarinoes we're still
the best at what we do:
beatin' up old people and bare-naked ladies!
Get them, becostumed weirdos!
Sex-view blockers, keep blocking.
♪
I'll, uh, I'll let you finish.
(ape-like grunting) ("Also Sprach Zarathustra" playing)
I thought I left my iPhone here.
(inquisitive grunt)
(hammers cock)
Ooh! Even I forget what this is a reference to.
MOE: And so, O my brothers, I was beaten, I was bruised,
I couldn't score at an orgy.
♪
But I was happy.
All right, let's burn this, let's rewrite everything,
and, uh, let's start all over.
("The Blue Danube" playing)
(music stops abruptly) Ow.
♪
(tired mumbling)
(low grunt)
Stupid blood-- asking me for a favor!
(grunts)
Homer, Homer, look what someone left in the kitchen.
Frosty chocolate milkshakes.
Dad, the TV's screwed up.
It only plays Married... with Children.
Aw, Peg, you're sick.
Let me call Dr. Kevorkian.
We haven't had sex in four years, Al.
(audience jeers)
Now I'm the one who needs Kevorkian.
(audience laughter)
VOICES (distorted): Our house.
This house is haunted.
(gasps) The milkshakes have vanished!
(slurping)
Hmm? What?
(slurping)
♪
Homie, I think we're not alone.
I was sleeping in the dryer and got caught in your sheets.
I'll go make up the couch for you. (whimpers)
(Marge moaning amorously)
Whoa, Marge, that was fast.
Yeah, that's it, baby.
Grab my chest with your cold, icy hands.
(moans)
(shrieks) The bed is lifting me!
The elevator at work can't even do that.
I demand you put me down right after the sex!
D'oh!
All right, show yourselves
in the name of this book!
D'oh! Oh.
The power of Chrysler compels you!
What are you, cavemen?
Turn on the lights!
(screaming)
Hey! A little respect!
(grumbles)
Take a picture-- it'll last longer, man.
Hey, if you're Homer Simpson, show me your driver's license!
Well, I traded it to a kid for a bite of his sandwich.
(gasps) He is me!
Noble spirits, your time has passed.
(belches)
That was unmotivated.
Don't have a cow, man.
Shut up! Ay, caramba! (belches)
Homer, do something!
Why is it always me?
I work 12 hours a week, you know.
She doesn't know what a good thing she's got.
I likea man who can relax.
Not like Grumpy-Lumpy there.
Quit makin' cracks!
Speaking of cracks, pull up your pants, dude.
I'll crack you!
(grunting) (chuckling)
What kind of afterlife is this?
Can't even strangle my dead kid.
So yeah, things aren't perfect with the missus and me,
and, uh, by the way, nice melons.
Those are in the kitchen!
D'oh! I can't believe you wasted our money on fruit!
(purring) Homer Simpson!
Can you be more specific? (growling)
(both chuckling)
(giggles)
Mmm!
(grumbles)
There's no reason to be jealous.
It's just younger you.
Oh! So, he likes ghosts better, eh?
Fine.
Hmm.
Might as well clean this while I'm killing myself.
(quiet grunting)
(grunting)
(thud)
(humming a tune)
Hmm?
(chuckles): Well, hello-ho-ho.
Aah! A ghost!
I feel like a ghost,
the way you haven't been paying attention to me.
Plus, I'm dead.
Don't yell at me-- I'm a double widower.
But I can handle all the ghosts you can float at me.
Won't the other Homer be a problem?
Heh! I think he gets it.
See? He... You stupid...
What the...? Ooh!
Mmm, I smell toast.
(groans)
(whoosh)
Well, I guess
you and I are in charge now, Bart.
But if we split the chores, I'm sure that we c...
What are you doing?!
Sayonara, sucker!
Oh, no, you're not leaving me to clean this up!
(yells)
(grunts)
(whoosh)
Whoo-hoo! I'm the last of the Simpsons!
In I.Q. only!
Huh?
(grunts, coughs, groans)
GROUNDSKEEPER WILLIE: Thank you!
Willie's got stew for the winter.
Wait a minute-- who killed Maggie?
This is all your fault, Homer, for wanting somebody new.
I just wanted the woman I married.
I never realized you had so much work done.
Simpsons, please! This fighting solves nothing!
Dr. Marvin Monroe?!
Are you alive or dead?
(groans) I'm in some horrible limbo.
I can walk halfway through walls, then I get stuck.
(creaking) Uh-oh.
Now I'm gonna have to look at that every morning.
Well, I think you're helping us make progress.
Thank you.
Let's not fight anymore.
Let's just make him decide between us.
Choose me because I'm not bitter yet,
I can stay up later, and you're on my mind all the time.
Hmm, Marge number two, how would you win my whoopie?
Those are great reasons, but there's one reason
you should choose me: because I know everything you've done,
and yet I still want to be with you.
That is so beautiful.
(both sigh)
You're right, Marge-- I could never leave you,
not even for you.
If there was a dot or a squiggle different,
that would be too much.
Oh, Homie! Oh, Homie!
(all moaning)
It's time to cut the treacle, man.
Why, you little...!
(birds chirping)
Mmm... (belches)
(loud chewing, belching continues)
(whoosh)
I just had a worrisome thought.
If there can be two incarnations of the Simpsons,
why couldn't some evil marketing entity
produce millions of others?
(new Homer voice): All right, Simpsons, welcome to our new home.
Yo, yo, Santa's Little Helper is in da house!
(howls)
(fierce grunt)
♪
Mmm!
(squeaky gibberish)
(high-pitched): D'oh!
Okay, hold still.
This is the last picture on the roll.
Isn't it about time you went digital?
Watch your mouth, you little smart-ass.
ORIGINAL LISA: Yeah, Bart.
Nothing's gonna ruin this one.
(timer ticking)
Here we go. Here we go.
(gulping)
(flash pops, camera whirs) HOMER: D'oh!
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org
(screams)