Quimby: People, take it easy. We're all upset about Mr. Burns' plan
to, uh, block out our sun. It is time for decisive action. I
have here a polite but firm letter to Mr. Burns' underlings,
who with some cajoling, will pass it along to him or at least
give him the gist of it.
Aide: [whispering] Sir, a lot of people are stroking guns.
Quimby: Also it has been brought to my attention that a number of you
are stroking guns. Therefore I will step aside and open up
the floor.
[Smithers, unshaven and drunk, stands up]
Smithers: [crying] Mr. Burns was the closest thing I ever had to...a
friend. But he fired me! And now I spend my days drinking
cheap scotch and watching Comedy Central!
Hibbert: Oh, dear God!
Smithers: {Ehh, it's not that bad. I never miss "Pardon My Zinger".}
{[Ned wraps a blanket around him]}
-- Weekdays at three p.m.,
"Who Shot Mr. Burns? Part One"
