Hank Azaria: Chief Wiggum • Pet Store Clerk • Race Track Announcer • ...

Two Dozen and One Greyhounds

Chief Wiggum • Pet Store Clerk • Race Track Announcer • Luigi Risotto • Army Sergeant

Race Track Announcer: As they round the far turn, it's She's the Fastest followed by Always Comes in Second and I'm Number Three.
Homer Simpson: Yes! Come on, you little horse!
Race Track Announcer: And they're in the home stretch. It's...
[Santa's Little Helper runs out onto the track]
Race Track Announcer: Wait! Another dog is on the track!
Bart: It's Santa's Little Helper!
Race Track Announcer: The mystery dog is gaining fast on the outside. Of course, he could never win this race... or could he?

Homer Simpson: We can't lose! Look at the name of the dog I bet on.
Marge Simpson: "She's the Fastest." Homer, I don't think that means necessarily...
Race Track Announcer: And they're off! She's the Fastest jumps out to an insurmountable lead.
Homer Simpson: You're lucky you've got looks, Marge.

Cable TV Announcer: Your cable TV is experiencing difficulties. Please do not panic. Resist the temptation to read or talk to loved ones. Do not attempt sexual relations, as years of TV radiation have left your genitals withered and useless.
Chief Wiggum: [in bed, checking] Well, I'll be damned.

Marge Simpson: Excuse me. We're having a problem with our dog.
Pet Store Clerk: Lady, I'll tell you what I'm telling everyone else: I'm sorry if your dog went blind, but your gripe is with Hartz Mountain, not with me.
Marge Simpson: No! No, our dog is out of control. He's wild, destructive, and has little or no respect for authority.
Pet Store Clerk: Hmm. Let me try a canine-human mind meld. It's an incredibly rare psychic power possessed only by me and three other clerks at this store.
[putting his hands on Santa's Little Helper's face, a la the Vulcan mind meld]
Pet Store Clerk: Okay.
[barking and moaning]
Pet Store Clerk: I'm bored. I'm restless. Need change in life.
[barking again]
Pet Store Clerk: Like imported leather leash... uh, blue contact lenses... 200-volt shock training collar.
Homer Simpson: [cut to them driving home with the car filled with supplies] Well, problem solved.
Marge Simpson: [he "dusts off" his hands] Homer, hold onto the wheel!
Homer Simpson: You've got it.

Reverend Lovejoy: Oh, just lovely, Marge. The whole town will hear what a perfect evening this was. How nothing at all went wrong.
Army Sergeant: Simpson, this evening has gone so flawlessly, I'm gonna forget that you were mistakenly let out of the army a month early.
IRS Regional Director: I'm so impressed by this problem-free evening that there's no need for that audit.
IRS Regional Director, Army Sergeant, Reverend Lovejoy: [standing and raising their glases] A toast to the Simpsons.
Army Sergeant: And to the delectable turkey...
[it begins to roll around of its own accord]
Army Sergeant: ...that's walking around the table?
Reverend Lovejoy: Dear Lord, it's a demon bird!
[it cracks open, revealing two of the puppies inside; retching into their napkins, the guests all leave, then poke their heads back in one by one]
Army Sergeant: SimpSON! See you at reveille 0500 tomorrow.
IRS Regional Director: See you at the IRS.
Reverend Lovejoy: See you in hell! From heaven.