Julie Kavner: Marge Simpson

Two Dozen and One Greyhounds

Marge Simpson

Lisa: What's Santa's Little Helper doing to that dog?
Marge Simpson: Uh-oh.
Bart: It looks like he's trying to jump over her, but he can't quite make it. Come on, boy! You can do it!

Bart: Hey, boy, you want to play fetch?
[Santa's Little Helper looks up, tired, then puts his head back down]
Bart: Aw. Me and Santa's Little Helper used to be a team, but he never wants to play anymore since his bitch moved in.
Marge Simpson: Bart, don't ever say that word again!
Bart: Well, that's what she is. I looked it up.
Marge Simpson: Well, I'm going to write the dictionary people and have that checked. Feels like a mistake to me...

[a wild Santa's Little Helper digs up a dozen holes in the backyard]
Lisa: [gasp] My bongo drums!
Bart: My strobe light!
Homer Simpson: My "Best of Ray Stevens - featuring the 'Streak' - Album"! So it was the dog who buried all our stuff!
Marge Simpson: Yes... the dog.

Lisa: [trying to give the puppies away] They don't like being broken up.
Marge Simpson: We've got to be realistic, kids. Who's going to have a big enough heart to take care of 25 puppies?
Mr. Burns: [chuckling] And I know the little fellows will love romping around my many acres, chasing my many cars, drinking from my many toilets.
Homer Simpson: Who wouldn't?
Lisa: [quietly] Mom, don't give the puppies to him. He'll be mean to them.
Marge Simpson: Hmm. She's right, Homer. There's something about his face I don't trust.
Homer Simpson: [Burns laughs evily] Uh... I'm sorry, Mr. Burns, but you can't have these dogs.
[flinching]
Homer Simpson: Am I fired?
Mr. Burns: Hmm? Oh, of course not. They're your pets. You can do as you wish.
[leaving with Smithers]
Mr. Burns: Good day, everyone.
Marge Simpson: My, he certainly took that well.
Homer Simpson: A little too well, if you ask me. I'm sure he's plotting some brilliant scheme to get those puppies.
Mr. Burns: [stealing the puppies behind their backs] There you go. There you go. You, too.
Smithers: Honestly, sir, you just don't put the effort into your schemes that you used to.

Marge Simpson: Yeesh! This house stinks. You're not just putting the new newspapers over the old ones, are you?
Homer Simpson: [the kitchen floor is littered with paper] Do you have a better idea?

Marge Simpson: All right, who broke my vase?
Lisa: Who took all my test papers off the refrigerator and tore them up?
Homer Simpson: Who spread garbage all over Flanders' yard before I got a chance to?
Bart: Oh, please. This is senseless destruction with none of my usual social commentary.
Lisa: [Santa's Little Helper leaps in with a pillow in his mouth and shakes the filling out] If it wasn't you, then who was it?
Marge Simpson: [SLH chases after Snowball the cat with a kitchen knife in his mouth] Well, I'm sure these things didn't destroy themselves, now did they?
Homer Simpson: [frightened] Did they?

Marge Simpson: [after Santa's Little Helper humps a female dog] I think they're in love.
Homer Simpson: [the crowd "awws"] Aw! So that's what's been wrong with the little fella. He misses casual sex.
Lisa: Can we keep Santa's girlfriend, mom?
Bart: Please?
Marge Simpson: But she's not our dog.
Texan: [giving Homer the leash] She's yours now. Once they fall in love, they lose their racing spirit.
Marge Simpson: Won't you miss her loyalty and companionship?
Texan: [guffawing] Lady, you're all right.

Marge Simpson: [Santa's Little Helper paws at the back door] Okay, you can go out and play, but no more you-know-what in front of the house, all right?
[letting the dogs out]
Marge Simpson: Hey! What did I just say?

Marge Simpson: Ooh, this place is so big. Do you think we should split up and look for him, Homie? Homie?
Homer Simpson: [at a betting window] Two bucks to win on number eight.
[seeing Marge's look, he turns on the waterworks]
Homer Simpson: And have you seen my beloved dog?
[stopping]
Homer Simpson: Give me the ticket.

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.

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.

Bart: Hey, look! A really small dog just fell out of Santa's girlfriend!
Marge Simpson: Oh, my god! She's having babies! Oh, I'm sorry, girl. I thought you were just getting fat.
Lisa: Look! It's twins!
Homer Simpson: No, it's two sets of twins.
Bart: Two sets of twins and a triplet.
Marge Simpson: Homer! Homer, find a place for all these little miracles.

Marge Simpson: Now, I know we love the puppies very much, but I think they're getting to be a problem.
Bart: Yeah, they ate all my socks. I have to wear Lisa's to school today.
Homer Simpson: [seeing the girly socks he's wearing] How do you explain the culottes, boy?
Bart: [wearing a skirt, too] Well, I have to coordinate, don't I?

Marge Simpson: [watching TV with the puppies, one gets on its hind legs and puts its paws on the screen] Look at Branford II. Isn't that cute? He thinks he's one of the Models, Inc.
[the family laughs; feeling left out, Snowball does the same thing]
Homer Simpson: Get that cat out of the way!