The Simpsons S01E01

Ooh! Careful, Homer!

There's no time. We're late.

-Excuse me. Pardon me.

- Sorry. Excuse me.
- Hey, Norman, how's it goin'?

So you got dragged down here
too, huh?

- How you doin', Fred?
- Sorry. Excuse me.

- Yeah. 'Scuse me. Oh!

Pardon my galoshes.

Wasn't that wonderful?

And now
"Santas of many lands,"

as presented by the entire
second grade class.

Oh! Lisa's class.

Frohliche Weihnachten.

That's German for
" Merry Christmas."

In Germany, Santa's servant Ruprecht
gives presents to good children...

and whipping rods
to the parents of bad ones.

Merry Kurisumasu.

I am Hotseiosha, a japanese priest
who acts like Santa Claus.

I have eyes
in the back ofmy head...

so children better behave
when I'm nearby.

Now presenting Lisa Simpson...

as Tawanga, the Santa Claus
of the South Seas.

Ooh, it's Lisa! That's ours.

Ah, the fourth grade
will now favor us with a melody--

Uh, medley
of holiday "flavorites."

- Isn't Bart sweet, Homer?

He sings like an angel.

The fifth grade will now favour us...

with a scene from Charles, uh, Dickens'
A Christmas Carol.

How many grades does this school have?

" Dear friends of the Simpson family,

"We had some sadness and
some gladness this year.

" First, the sadness.
Our little cat Snowball...

"was unexpectedly run over
and went to kitty heaven.

"But we bought
a new little cat, Snowball I.

"So I guess life goes on.

"Speaking of life going on,
Grandpa's still with us, feisty as ever.

" Maggie is walking by herself,

"Lisa got straight A's,
and Bart--

"Well, we love Bart.

"The magic of the season
has touched us all.

Marge, haven't you finished
that stupid letter yet?

- " Homer sends his love. Happy holidays.
- Marge!

- The Simpsons."
- Marge, where's the extension cord?

For heaven's sake, Homer.
It's in the utility drawer.

Sorry. I'm just a big kid.

And I love Christmas
so much.

All right, children,
let me have those letters.

I'll send them to Santa's workshop
at the North Pole.

Oh, please. There's only
one fat guy that brings us presents,

and his name ain't Santa.

Uh-- A pony?

Oh, Lisa, you've asked for that
for the last three years,

and I keep telling you Santa can't
fit a pony into his sleigh.

Can't you take a hint?

But I really want a pony,

- and I've been really good this year.
- Oh, dear.

Maybe Bart is
a little more realistic.

- A tattoo?
- A what?

Yeah! They're cool, and they last
the rest of your life.

you will not be getting
a tattoo for Christmas.

Yeah. If you want one, you'll have
to pay for it out of your allowance.

- All right!
- Homer!

- "Yello."

- Marge, please.
- Who's this?

May I please speak to Marge?

- This is her sister, isn't it?
- Is Marge there?

- Who shall I say is calling?
- Marge, please.

It's your sister.
Oh!

- Hello.
- Hello, Marge. It's Patty.

Selma and I couldn't be more excited
about seeing our sister Christmas Eve.

Well, Homer and I are looking
forward to your visit too.

Somehow I doubt
that Homer is excited.

of all the men
you could've married,

I don't know why you picked
one who's always so rude to us.

- Good one, Dad.

Okay, kids,
prepare to be dazzled.

Marge, turn on the juice!

- What do you think, kids?

- Nice try, Dad.

Just hold
your horses, son. Hey, Simpson!

- What is it, Flanders?
- Do you think this looks okay?

- Oh!
- Oh, neato!

It's too bright.

I oughta-- Flanders.
What a big show-off.

- Kids, wanna go Christmas shopping?
- I do!

- All right! The mall!
- Go get your money.

Tell us, Marge. Where have
you been hiding the Christmas money?

Oh, I have my secrets.

Turn around.

- you can look now.
- Ooh! Big jar this year.

Oh, Bart,
that's so sweet.

It's the best present
a mother could get,

and it makes you look
so dangerous.

- One " Mother," please.

Wait a minute.
How old are you?

- Twenty-one, sir.
- Get in the chair.

Attention,
all personnel, please keep working...

during the following
announcement.

And now our boss and friend
Mr. Burns.

Hello. I'm proud to announce...

that we've been able to increase
safety here at the plant...

without increasing the cost
to the consumer...

or affecting management
payraises.

However, for you
semiskilled workers,

there will be
no Christmas bonuses.

- Oh, and one more thing.

Merry Christmas!

- Oh, thank God for the big jar.

- Where's that Bart?

But, Mom,
I thought you'd like it.

Yes, Mrs. Simpson, we can remove
your son's tattoo.

It's a simple routine
involving lasers.

- Cool!
- However, it is rather expensive,

and we must insist
on a cash payment up front.

- Cash?
- Mm-hmm.

Thank God for
Homer's Christmas bonus.

- Ay, caramba!
- Now, whatever you do, don't squirm.

you don't wanna get this sucker
near your eye or your groin.

- Ow! Quit it.

Ow! Quit it.

Ow! Quit it.

- Ow! Quit it.
- Hey, what's with this?

Ow! Quit it!
Used to be a real boss tattoo.

Mom had to spend the Christmas money
having it surgically removed.

It's true!

The jar is empty!
Oh, my God!

We're ruined.
Christmas is canceled.

No presents for anyone!

Don't worry, Homer. We'll just
have to stretch your Christmas bonus...

- even further this year.

- Homer?
- Oh, yeah. My Christmas bonus.

How silly of me.

This'll be the best
Christmas yet.

The best any family
ever had.

Hmm. I get the feeling there's
something you haven't told me, Homer.

- Huh? Oh. I love you, Marge.
- you tell me that all the time.

Oh, good,
because I do love you.

I don't deserve you as much
as a guy with a fat wallet...

and a credit card that won't
set off that horrible beeping.

I think it does have something
to do with your Christmas bonus.

I keep asking for it,
but--

Marge, um,
let me be honest with you.

- Yes?
- Well, I would--

I-- I wanna do
the Christmas shopping this year.

Uh, sure, okay.

Marge, Marge. Hmm. Let'ssee.

Ooh, look!

Pantyhose.
Practical and alluring.

A six-pack.
Oh! Only 4.99.

Ooh! Pads of paper.

I bet Bart can think of
a million things to do with these.

That just leaves
little Maggie. Oh, look!

A little squeak toy.

It says it's for dogs,
but she can't read.

Ow! Oh, Simpson,
it's you.

- Hello, Flanders.
- Oh, my! What a mess we've got here.

Well, which ones are yours
and which ones are mine?

- Well, let's see.
- Oh, this one's mine. This one's mine.

- This one's mine, and this--
- They're all yours!

- Hey, you dropped your pork chop.

- Gimme that!
- Well, happy holidays, Simpson.

- Gee, this is the best Christmas ever.
- You bet.

What's the matter, Homer? Somebody
leave a lump of coal in your stocking?

You've been sitting there,
sucking on a beer all day long.

- So?
- So, it's Christmas.

- Thanks, Moe.

Drinks all around!

What's with
the crazy getup, Barn?

I got me a part-timejob
working as a Santa down at the mall.

Wow! Can I do that?

I don't know. They're
pretty selective.

Do you like children?

What do you mean? All the time?
Even when they're nuts?

- Hmm.
- Uh, I certainly do.

Welcome aboard, Simpson.

Pending your successful completion
of our training program, that is.

- What is it now, Simpson?
- Uh, when do we get paid?

Not a dime till Christmas Eve!
Now, from the top.

Um, Dasher.

- Dancer.
- Mm-hmm.

- Prancer.
- Mm-hmm.

Nixon.

Comet and... Cupid.

- Donna Dixon?
- Sit down, Simpson.

And what would you like,
little boy?

- You're not really Santa, tubby.
- Why, you little egghead!

No, Homer! If such
an emergency arises,

you just tell them
Santa's vey busy this time of year,

- and you are one of his helpers.
- Oh, I knew that one too!

Homer, why are you
seven hours late?

Not a word, Marge.
I'm heading straight for the tub.

But, Homer,
my sisters are here.

- Don't you wanna say hello?

- Daddy! We're so glad to see you!
- Oh, Dad, you're finally home!

What? Why?
Oh, yeah.

Hello, Patty.
Hello, Selma.

- How was your trip?
- Fine.

- you both look well.
- Thank you.

- Yeah, well, Merry Christmas.
- It's Christmas?

- you wouldn't know it around here.
- And why is that?

- For one thing, there's no tree
- I was just on my way out to get one!

- Can we go too, Dad?
- Yeah, can we?

No!

Hey! What do you think you're doin'?

- Uh-oh.
- Hey! Hey!

- Come back here!

So what do you think, kids?
Beauty, isn't it?

- Wow! Yay, Dad!
- Way to go, Dad!

- Why is there a birdhouse in it?
- Uh, that's an ornament.

Do I smell gunpowder?

and then I want some Robotoids.

And then I want
a Goop Monster.

And then I want
a great big, giant--

Aw, son, you don't need
all that junk.

I'm sure you've already
got something much more important--

a decent home and a loving father
who would do anything for you.

Hey, I couldn't afford lunch.
Give me a bite of that donut.

Get a load of that
quote-unquote Santa.

I can't believe those kids
are falling for it.

Hey, Milhouse, I dare you
to sit on his lap.

- I dare you to yank his beard off.
- Ah, touche.

I hope you feel better,
Santa.

Oh, I will when Mrs. Claus' sisters
get outta town.

Thanks for listenin', kid.

Hey, Santa,
what's shakin', man?

What's your name, Bart... ner?
Uh, little partner?

- I'm Bart Simpson. Who are you?
- I'm jolly Old St. Nick.

Oh, yeah?
We'll just see about that.

- Homer!
- A word with you in Santa's workshop.

- Cover for me, Elfie.
- I didn't know it was you.

Nobody knows.
It's a secret.

I didn't get my bonus this year.

But to keep the family
from missing out on Christmas,

- I'd do anything.
- I'll say, Dad.

you must really love us
to sink so low.

Now, let's not get mushy, son.

I still have a job to do.

Hey, little ones. Santa's back.

Damn it to--

Ah, son, one day
you're gonna know...

the satisfaction of payday.

Receiving a big fat check
for a job well done.

Simpson, Homer?
Here ya go.

Come on, son. Let's go cash
this baby and get presents for--

Thirteen bucks? Hey, wait a minute.

That's right.
$120 gross.

Less Social Security,
less unemployment insurance,

- less Santa training...
- Santa training?

less costume purchase,
less beard rental, less Christmas club.

- But-- But--
- See ya next year.

- Ohh!
- Come on, Dad. Let's go home.

Thirteen bucks?

you can't get anything
for 13 bucks.

Allright!
Thirteen bigones!

Springfield Downs,
here I come!

- What?
- you heard me.

I'm goin' to the dog track.

I got a hot little puppy
in the fourth race.

- Wanna come?
- Sory, Barney.

I may be a total washout as a father,
but I'm not gonna take my kid...

to a sleazy dog track
on Christmas Eve.

Come on, Simpson.
The dog's name is Whirlwind.

Ten-to-one shot.
Money in the bank.

- Uh-uh.
- Ah, come on, Dad.

This can be the miracle that
saves the Simpsons' Christmas.

If TV has taught me anything,

it's that miracles always
happen to poor kids at Christmas.

It happened to Tiny Tim,
it happened to Charlie Brown,

it happened to the Smurfs
and it's gonna happen to us.

Well, okay, let's go.
Who's Tiny Tim?

Hey, Moldy, do you
think Santa will be able to find...

ElfCounty
under all this snow?

I doubt it, Bubbles. We'll be
sad little elves this Christmas.

- Oh, no!
- Oh, brother.

- Where's your husband?
- Yeah. It's getting late.

Said he went caroling
with Bart.

I can't believe
I'm doing this.

Can we open
our presents now, Dad?

you know the tradition, son.
Not till the eighth race.

Hey, Barney,
which one is Whirlwind?

Number Six. That's our lucky dog
right over there.

He's won
his last five races.

What? That scrawny little
bag of bones?

Come on, Dad. They're all
scrawny little bags of bones.

Yeah, you're right.

I guess Whirlwind is our only hope
for a Merry Christmas.

Attention,
racing fans, we have a late scratch...

in the fourth race.

Number 8, Sir Galahad will be
replaced by Santa's Little Helper.

Once again, Sir Galahad has been
replaced by Santa's Little Helper.

Bart, did you hear that?

What a name!
Santa's Little Helper!

- It's a sign! It's an omen!
- It's a coincidence, Dad.

- What are the odds on Santa's Little
Helper? - Ninety-nine to one.

Wow! Ninety-nine times
thirteen equals... Merry Christmas!

I got a bad feeling
about this.

- Don't you believe in me, son?
- Uh--

Come on, boy. Sometimes your faith
is all that keeps me going.

Oh, go for it, Dad.

That's my boy! Eveything on
Santa's Little Helper.

Unadulterated pap.

It's almost 9:00.
Where's Homer anyway?

It's so typical
of the big doof us to spoil it all.

- What, Aunt Patty?
- Oh, nothing, dear.

I'm just trashing
your father.

Well, I wish you wouldn't...

because aside from the fact he has
the same frailties as all human belings.

he's the only father I have.

Therefore, he is
my model of manhood,

and my estimation of him will govern
the prospects of my adult relationships.

So I hope you bear in mind that
any knock at him is a knock at me,

and I'm far too young to defend
myself against such onslaughts.

Mm-hmm. Go watch
your cartoon show, dear.

Come on, Bart.

Kiss the ticket for good luck,
not that we need it.

Here comes
Screwy the mechanical rabbit.

- and they're off!

- Come on, Santa's Little Helper!
- Come on, dog! Go, man, go!

It's Whirlwind in the lane, and
coming up on the left is Quadruped,

followed by Dog O'War
and Fido.

- Go! Come on, boy!
- Go! Come on, get that rabbit!

Dog O'War coming up fast
on the outside.

- Come on, Santa's Little Helper!
- Come on, dog! Go, man, go!

And with a lock on last place,
it's Santa's Little Helper.

- Don't worry, Dad.

Maybe this is just for suspense
before the miracle happens.

- Come on, you stupid dog! Come on!
- Go, go!

- Run! Run!
- Run, run! Come on, get that rabbit!

- Go, go, Santa's Little Helper! Run!
- Go, go, go!

Whirlwind by a countrymile, second,
ChewMyShoe, followed by Dog O'War.

Oh, jeez!

Doesn't seem possible,
but I guess TV has betrayed me.

I don't wanna leave
till our dog finishes.

Ah, forget it.
Let's go.

- Find any winners, son?
- Sory, Dad.

Hey, hey, Simpson!
What'dl tell you?

Whirlwind!
Let's go, Daria.

Beat it! Scram! Get lost!

- you came in last for the last time!

Look, Dad, it's
Santa's Little Helper.

And don't come back!

Oh, no, you don't! No, no!
Get away from me! Uh-uh!

Oh, can we keep him,
Dad, please?

But he's a loser!
He's pathetic! He's--

A Simpson.

Hmm. Maybe I should
call the police.

- Oh, he'll sober up.
- Yeah. Come staggering home.

Mm-hmm.
Smelling of cheap perfume.

- Homer!

- What? What the-- Who the--
- Look, eveybody,

- I have a confession to make.
- This should be good.

I didn't get
my Christmas bonus.

I tried not to let it
ruin Christmas for eveybody,

but no matter
what I did--

- Hey, eveybody, lookwhat we got!

A dog!
All right, Dad!

- God bless him.
- So love at first sight is possible.

And if he runs away,
he'll be easy to catch.

Oh,
this is the best gift of all, Homer!

- It is? -
Yes. Something to share our love...

and frighten prowlers.

- What's his name?
- Number 8--

I mean, Santa's Little Helper.