[5F21] The Wizard of Evergreen Terrace The Wizard of Evergreen Terrace Written by John Swartzwelder Directed by Mark Kirkland =========================================================================== Production Code: 5F21 Original Airdate on FOX: 9/20/98 Transcript written on November 15, 1998. Act one. At the KBBL radio station, the disc jockeys do moronic news jokes accompanied by bad sound effects. Bill: Hey, Springfield, if you're driving, you may want to sit down! Marty: Uh, oh! Because it's time for Bill and Marty's Five O'Clock News Flush! [toilet flushing sound plays] Bill: Our topless story: President Clinton has launched a new website! Marty: Uh, oh! Wait, let me guess...www.[wolf-whistle].[boing!]! Homer: [listening in his car, laughing] Website. Bill: Okay, here's another News Flush! [toilet flush sound] Doctors say the life expectancy of the average man is now seventy-six point two years! Homer, upon hearing this, gasps and spins his car out across the highway. Homer: Seventy-six point two? But I'm already thirty-eight point one! I've wasted half my life! [exits car, walks across highway] Half my life gone, and I'm only guaranteed thirty eight more years! Walking over to a highway phone after nearly being struck by several passing cars, he picks up the receiver. Homer: Marge, I've wasted half my life! Operator: Sir, do you need a tow truck? Homer: What are you talking about, Marge? I don't need a... Behind him, another car collides with the one he left on the highway. "Okay, send the truck," he tells the woman at the other end. Later that evening, Homer sits in his bed, eating a sack of flour. Marge comes in to comfort him. Marge: Oh, honey, don't eat that. Wouldn't you rather have your sugar bag? Homer: Oh, I don't deserve sugar. I'm halfway to my grave and I haven't accomplished anything. Oh, I am not looking forward to my funeral. In Homer's imagination, the gates to the Graveyard of the Future open, where his funeral is taking place. Ned Flanders does the ceremony, while a suited Lenny and two bodyguards, Barney Gumbell with his arms full of Oscars, as well as a robot and Heckle and Jeckle, stand by. Ned: No, Homer wasn't a great man, nor even an adequate man. And he certainly never accomplished anything. Uh, President Lenny, do you have anything to say? Lenny: Nah. Ned: All right, fair enough. Toss him in the hole, boys. A dump truck lets loose a mound of dirt, along with the body of Homer J. Simpson, into the hole below. After the dirt settles, his feet stick up, unburied. Heckle: There goes a real sack of crap! Jeckle: Indubitably, old chum! As the two birds leave, a pair of dogs come along and bite on Homer's feet. Back in Homer's bedroom, Homer moans at his own depressive vision. Homer: Oh...Marge, no matter what happens in the future, promise me you won't vote for Lenny. Marge: Okay, but you've accomplished a lot! You've made me very happy. Homer: Oh, yeah, they'll put me on a stamp for that! Marge: [grumbles] Homer: I've wasted half my life, Marge. You know how many memories I have? Three! Standing in line for a movie, having a key made, and sitting here talking to you. Thirty-eight years and that's all I have to show for it! Marge: You're thirty-nine. This proves too much for poor Homer to bear; he cries out and curls up into a ball on the bed, squirming. The next evening, Homer comes home from work shirtless, unshaven, and down in the dumps. He drags himself inside, where Lisa meets him at the door. Lisa: Hi, Dad, how was work? Homer: Cold. Lisa: Come on, let's get you into your favorite shirt. Lisa takes him by the hand and leads him into the den, where the rest of the family flips on the lights and surprises him. Homer: Oh, I see you're having a party, I'll come back later. Bart: You can't come back later, because... The family shouts in unison (well, Grampa's a bit off) "Homer Simpson, welcome to your life!" Marge: The kids and I want to show you all the great things you've done. Homer: Oh, all right, maybe I can pinpoint where my life went wrong. Bart: Quiet, Dad, or we'll have to throw you out of here. The film starts, when suddenly Grandpa points at the projection screen and yells, "The pictures! They're coming alive!" The first clip is a shot of Homer eating a tube of astronaut food in a space shuttle. Lisa: There you are in outer space. That's pretty impressive. Homer: Eh, all we did was grow some space tomatoes and sabotage Mir. The film shows the space shuttle crashing into the Russian satellite, angering two cosmonauts inside. Bart: Remember when you almost became heavyweight champ? The film shows Drederick Tatum unloading into Homer's face. Homer: No... Abe: [watching the film] Finish him! Finish him! Marge: Well, there's certainly no greater accomplishment than fathering three beautiful children. The film shows Homer playing football with his kids; Bart hikes him the ball, and the three of them tackle him as they all laugh. Homer: Aw, I should've punted. Turn it off, turn it off! Bart: Hang on, Dad, this next part will definitely make you feel better about yourself! On the film, a familiar black car drives up. KITT: Hello, Homer, it's me, KITT, from TV's "Knight Rider". Homer: [gasps loudly] KITT: Your family has asked me to take time out from my busy schedule to invite you to a [film starts deteriorating] very....special... Homer: Oh, stupid movies! [bangs projector] Who invented these dumb things anyway? Was it you, Bart? Lisa: It was Thomas Edison, Dad. Bart: I thought he invented the light bulb. Lisa: That too. He also invented the phonograph, the microphone, and the electric car. Homer: No one man can do all that. You're a liar, honey, a dirty rotten liar. Abe: Finish her! Finish her! Lisa: It's true. I read it at a placemat at a restaurant. Homer: Really? A restaurant? Well, now I don't know what to think. At his school library, Bart runs on top of a large globe, spinning it. A group of other children cheer him on, until Homer yells, "Cut it out, boy!"; he slips, sliding onto a nearby table where Homer reads. Bart: Dad, what are you doing here? Homer: Reading about this Edison character. They won't let me in the big people library downtown, there was some...unpleasantness, I can never go back. Ooh! [reading a pop-up book] Look at all the inventions Edison came up with: the stock ticker, the storage battery, even wax paper! And look at him dance! Homer fiddles with a lever on the side of the book, moving Edison's legs; he sings "Dee, dee dee, dee dee, dee dee," and laughs. Homer: And, these Hardy Boys books are great, too! This one's about smugglers! Bart: They're all about smugglers. Homer: No, not this one! "The Smugglers of Pirate Cove". It's about pirates. -- Homer Simpson for America's Libraries, "The Wizard of Evergreen Terrace" A librarian comes over to Homer's table. Librarian: Excuse me, are you a student at this school? Homer: I think it's pretty obvious that I am! [holds up a pencil with a paper flag reading 'school' attached] Go school! At Moe's, the usual patrons sit around the bar, listening to Lenny's story. Lenny: So, this broad stands up in the ocean, and this big wave knocks her bathing suit off. [patrons murmur with approval] Moe: Yeah, and then what happens? Omit no detail, however small, or filthy. Lenny: So anyway, this is the part you'll remember for the rest of your lives... Homer: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, great story Lenny. But here's one that's even more spellbinding. Once upon a time, there was a man named Thomas Edison, and he invented the dictating machine, and the fluoroscope, and the repeating telegraph... Time passes. The patrons are bored out of their minds, still listening to Homer talk about Edison. Homer: And he was a firm believer in Fletcherism, and he played the organ, and his favorite flower was the heliotrope! Oh! And his middle name was Alva. And he never, ever, ever wore pajamas, and... Moe: Okay, I think we've been polite long enough here...Lenny! What happened with the dame in the bathing suit? Lenny: Uh...oh. Uh, oh nuts! I forgot! All I can think of now is Edison, I can't even remember where I work. [walks off] Homer: Well, I remember where Edison worked! It was Menlow Park. That's where he came up with the tacimeter, the ore separator, and... Carl: Uh, James Watt invented the steam engine. Homer: That's boring. You're boring everybody! Quit boring everyone! In bed with Marge that night, Homer still won't shut up. Homer: And then he worked on a machine to communicate with the dead. Kind of scary telephone, I guess. Or maybe he planned to just stick his head under the ground and yell. Marge: All right, already! Everyone knows the man accomplished a lot. Maybe because he didn't spend every moment talking about Thomas Edison! Homer: Oh, that's where you're wrong, Marge. He was a shameless self-promoter. Marge: Well, you're not Thomas Edison. Homer: Marge, that's it! That's why I haven't done anything with my life! I need to be more like Thomas Edison. Marge: Whatever. Homer: And I'm starting right now. No more damn pajamas! [takes off pajamas and throws them out the window] From this day forward, I am an inventor! A man, walking his dog, sees Homer standing proudly naked by the window. "Do us a favor. Invent yourself some underpants!" he yells up. End of Act One. Time: At his house, Homer gets out of his car, whistling. Inside, Marge is feeding Maggie in the kitchen, where Homer goes for a Duff. Homer: Well, I quit my job, just like you said to. Marge: I didn't tell you to quit your job. Homer: Yes, you did! I remember your exact words. You said I should quit my job, and become an inventor, or you'd torch the house. Marge: That doesn't sound like me. Well, I suppose if this doesn't work out you, can always go back to the plant. Homer: [chuckling] Not the way I quit. [laughs some more] Hoo-hoo. In the basement, Homer has a workshop set up, including a poster of Thomas Edison and a chart comparing Edison's progress to his own. Homer: At my age, Edison had already invented 203 things. Well, I've got a lot of work to do to catch up to him! Let's see, now... inventions, inventions... While Homer tries to think up an invention, Marge brings a basket of laundry downstairs. Marge: Something electrical might be good. Homer: Weh, eh, eh, let me handle the creative end of this, Marge. You don't understand how the creative mind works like I do. Marge: Oh? Homer: You look at this table, and what do you see? Just a table. Now a creative person like me looks at this table and sees all kinds of creative things. But no tables! Marge: Homer, that's not a table, that's our dryer. Homer: [screams] My files! Homer's files are circulating inside. Later, at an actual table, Homer is still staring at a blank notepad. Homer: Hmm, this isn't working. I've got to try a different approach. Homer tries crossing his legs a different way, then stands and rubs his chin, trying to find the best thinking pose. Walking backwards, he charges the notepad and stares it down hopefully. When this doesn't work, he starts puffing on a cigar. Lisa and Bart walk up to find him choking. Lisa: You started smoking, Dad? Homer: Yes. Thomas Edison smoked several cigars a day. Bart: Yeah, he invented stuff, too. Homer: Shut up. Homer, leaning back in his chair a bit too far, falls backwards. He gets up, unhurt, sitting back down. Homer: As long as you're here annoying me, let's have a brainstorming session. Here's how it works. Lisa, you say one thing, then Bart, you say another, just toss out things and I'll use my inventive mind to combine them into a brilliant, original idea. Lisa: Okay. Um...automatic... Bart: Butt. Homer: Okay. Lisa: Fluorescent... Bart: Booger. Homer: Mmm, hmm. Wait a minute, these aren't exciting new products! You're not even trying. Okay, that's it, both of you go to your rooms and spank yourselves. The kids walk up the stairs as Marge comes down with a tray of food. Lisa: Lazy father... Bart: Can't even spank his own kids. Marge: Homer, you can't punish the children just because you can't come up with an idea. Homer: I don't see why not, they're my kids, I own 'em! Marge: [grumbles] Homer: Okay, we own them. Marge makes a noise that could be possibly construed as meaning "That's better." Marge: I brought you a tuna sandwich. They say it's brain food. I guess because there's so much dolphin in it, and you know how smart they are. Homer: Oh, it's no use. I can't work like this, cut off from the scientific community! You stay here and guard my sandwich. At Professor Frink's laboratory, Homer borrows a stack of books. Frink: And these should give you the grounding you'll need in thermodynamics, hypermathematics, and of course microcalifragilistics, moodavit. Homer: Look, I just wanna know how to invent things. Tell me! Frink: Eh, all you have to do is think of things that people need, but don't exist yet. Homer: You mean like an electric blanket-mobile? Frink: Uh, well, possibly...or, you could take something that already exists, and find a new use for it, like... Homer: Hamburger earmuffs! Frink: Eh, well, I suppose that would qualify... Homer: Thanks, sucker! Frink: Wha, oop...all right, just stay calm, Frinkie. These babies will be in the stores while he's still grappling with the pickle matrix! Gyvinblayvin! Dwon in the basement, Homer works out a few equations on the chalkboard, hammers, saws, welds, and finally blows up the basement. Walking over to a chart, he changes a "greater than" sign to a "less than" sign, and goes back to work. Later, a much bigger explosion rocks the house; walking over to the chalkboard, he erases a stick of dynamite from his schematics. Sometime later, he presents his work to the rest of the family; it sits on a table underneath a sheet. Homer: Okay, I have here the four greatest inventions in the history of mankind. [pulls off sheet] First, my all-purpose electric hammer. For all your pounding needs! Homer holds up a hammer connected to a motor; he starts hammering a nail into the wall, when suddenly the hammer goes out of control, knocking holes in the wall, hitting him in the head, and dragging him across the floor until he manages to shut it off. Homer: Probably needs to be more powerful. Bart: [pulls out money] I'll buy ten of those right now! Homer: Now, here's my "Everything's O.K." alarm! Homer flips a switch on a round white device, and it begins to emit a high pitched, incredibly loud beep. The rest of the Simpsons cover their ears as Homer speaks up. Homer: This will sound every three seconds, unless something isn't okay! Marge: Turn it off, Homer! Homer: It can't be turned off! [alarm fizzles out] But it, uh, does break easily. Now, this next one's for the ladies. How many times have you gals been late for a high-powered business meeting, only to realize you're not wearing make-up? Marge: That's every woman's nightmare. Homer: That's why I invented this revolutionary make-up gun. It's for the woman who only has four-fifths of a second to get ready. Close your eyes, Marge. Homer fires the make-up gun, which appears to be a shotgun with some containers of liquid attached, into Marge's face. After the cloud of dust vanishes, she ends up with way too much on. Homer: Now you're ready for a night on the town. [holds up a mirror] Marge: [gasps] Homer! You've got it set on "whore". Homer: Okay, this time try to keep your nostrils closed. Homer points the gun at her, but she pushes it away from her face. A vaguely face-shaped blotch of make-up stains the wall. Homer: Oh, look what you did. Now I have to go get my cold-cream gun. Lisa: Dad, women won't like being shot in the face. Homer: Women will like what I tell them to like! Now here's something for everyone. In the olden times, if you were watching TV and nature called, you'd have to get up and walk to the bathroom. It was the hardest thing in the world to do. But now, with the Lazy-Man Reclining Toilet-Chair, you can just lean back and let 'er rip! Lisa: You expect people to go to the bathroom in their living rooms? Homer: Sure! Believe me, every man in America will want to have one. Homer flushes the chair; it actually works. Bart: Gangway, I gotta poop! Marge: No, Bart! Homer, all these inventions, they're... Homer: Yes? Marge: They're not very... Homer: Yes? Yes? Yes? Marge: They're terrible. Homer: What? Marge: I'm not saying you're a bad inventor...I'm saying these particular inventions are awful! And no one in their right mind would buy them. Or accept them as gifts! Homer: But this is the best I could do. I guess I'm no better at being Thomas Edison than I was at being Homer Simpson. Homer walks out of the room, dejected. Marge: Oh, dear. I hope I wasn't too rough on him. Lisa: Somebody had to tell him, Mom. In the long run, it's much kinder to... Bart, on the toilet-chair reading a newspaper, interrupts his sister by clearing his throat. "Do you mind?" he says. End of Act Two. Time: Act three. The Simpsons are eating dinner in the dining room. Homer: All week, my lifelong dream was to be the next Thomas Edison. But now, it's over. I guess I'll just give up my hopes and dreams and settle for being a decent husband and father. Homer leans back in his chair and tips over; the whole family panics, until Homer's chair suddenly stops halfway down. Marge: What happened? You didn't fall. Homer: Oh, that. I stuck a couple extra legs on there, 'cause I kept tipping over when I was trying to invent stuff. Lisa: They're on hinges. That's really ingenious, Dad! Marge: It could save lives! Homer: Really? You think it's a good idea? Bart: Oh, yeah! Safety sells! Especially to lame-os. Marge: I'd buy one. Lisa: Me too. Homer: I did it! I'm going to be rich! Homer walks out of the room, but comes back in and grabs his chair, eyeing the other Simpsons accusingly. He leaves, but comes back in one more time for his plate, again watching the others carefully. In the basement, Homer shows the Edison poster his work. Homer: Look, Mr. Edison, I did it! I'm an inventor! And I owe it all to you! See, it's just a regular chair, but I attached a couple of extra legs to the back, kind of like the ones on the back of your... Homer stares closely at the poster, and realizes that Edison has the same device on his chair. Homer: Aww, dammit!! Bart: [coming downstairs] Hey, Dad, I heard you swearing. Mind if I join in? Crap, boobs, crap. Homer: I thought I had a great idea, but I must've seen it on this poster. Bart: If Edison thought of that chair, how come it's not on this chart? Homer: It's not? Maybe he never told anyone about it! That chair might be the only one he made! Bart: So...? Homer: So, we've got to go to the Edison Museum and smash it. Then I'll be an inventor! Bart: But I thought you loved Edison. Homer: Aw, to hell with him. Bart: Yeah! Hell damn fart! Homer pulls out of his driveway, squealing the tires; as he leaves, he shouts to Marge, who's cleaning the mailbox. Homer: Taking-Bart-cross-state-lines-back-soon! I took your wallet! Marge: Oh, I just mopped that driveway. On the highway, Bart and Homer take a peculiar exit to the Edison Museum. Bart: Man, I can't wait to smash that chair. Homer: [laughs] Oh, son, you're young and headstrong, just like Thomas Edison, Junior! You know, he started a mushroom farm, and an auto parts company, and he sold his good name to a quack medicine company. Oh, and later he raised turkeys. That was on his turkey farm. Bart, listening to Homer, falls asleep in the front seat. Homer looks on fondly. He begins to fall asleep himself, and sees, in the middle of the road, the ghost of Thomas Alva Edison. Edison: Stop, Homer! Homer: [gasps] Edison: By smashing my chair, you're only hurting yourself! Homer punches it, and drives straight for him; Edison runs at first, but gets knocked under the car after running a bit. Edison shouts "I'll get you, you fat lunatic," at Homer as he drives off; hearing this, Homer stops and begins backing up; Edison timidly crawls behind a bush to hide. The next morning at the Edison Museum, Homer and Bart run up to the front entrance, where a line to get in has formed. They wait behind another father with his son. Bart: All right! The museum's still open! Father: [to his son] Why don't you like Edison that much? [slaps him] Inside the museum, a tour guide leads Homer, Bart, and the rest of the group around. Tour Guide: Hey folks, do you like riddles? [crowd murmurs] Okay, then. How many geniuses does it take to invent a light bulb? [waits] Just one. Thomas Edison. The tour group claps approvingly. The guide takes them to a door closed off by a velvet rope. Tour Guide: Now, behind that door is Edison's actual preserved brain. Ordinarily, folks, tour groups are not allowed to see it. And of course, today will be no exception. Now no tour would be complete without a visit to Edison's boyhood gift shop. The tour guide leads them all inside and shuts the door behind them. Still in the museum, Homer and Bart come out of hiding and decide to take care of business. Walking over to the Edison chair, they knock the Edison dummy off. Homer: Out of the way! This is one invention you're not getting credit for, you inspiration hog! Bart: Your electric hammer, mistro? Homer: Invent your way out of this, Edison! Homer holds his electric hammer above his head, preparing to smash the chair, when he looks over and sees a chart on the wall. It's one of Edison's own, comparing his progress to Leonardo Da Vinci's. Homer: Look, son...Edison was just like me. Bart: You mean the wild mood swings? Homer: No! -- "Wizard of Evergreen Terrace" Homer: We both lived in another man's shadow. This old-timey nerd and I have suffered the same frustration and heartache. We're not rivals. We're just a couple of dreamers who set the bar a little too high. I can't destroy your work, my friend. Bart: Can I? Homer: No, but we'll stop off at the Da Vinci museum on the way home. Bart: Uh, I think that's in Italy, Dad. Homer: Oh. Well, then we'll take it out on Eli Whitney. At home, Bart and Homer watch the news. Brockman: Authorities say the phony pope can be recognized by his high-top sneakers, and incredibly foul mouth. In other news, Thomas Edison, the greatest inventor of all time, is apparently still inventing, despite the notable handicap of being dead! Homer: That's my Tommy! Brockman: Two new Edison creations have just been discovered in his museum. A six-legged chair that won't tip over, and even more astounding, an electric hammer. Some footage of the tour guide demonstrating the inventions rolls. Homer, though silent, twitches his eyes and clenches his teeth. Marge: That was your idea! Brockman: This brilliant invention is expected to generate millions for Edison's already wealthy heirs. The news runs footage of two people enjoying a sackful of money, labeling it a "dramatization" at the bottom of the screen. Lisa: Dad, those should be your millions! Bart: I gotta admit, Homer, you're taking this pretty well. Homer: Let's just say I'm sitting in the right chair. Homer, still furiously staring quietly at the television, reclines a bit on his Toilet-Chair. End of Act Three. Time: