Abe: That's _my_ ambulance. I called for it four hours ago.
Homer: Marge, how did you know --
Marge: That the pants would rip?
Homer: No, what I was wondering was --
Marge: Years of buying pants for two active children and a full-seated
husband has given me a sixth sense for shoddy stitching -- which
these jeans have in spades.
Wiggum: That's some nice work, Simpson, but, um, we can't hold him.
There's no evidence.
Homer: Yes there is, there's a garage full of counterfeit jeans.
Wiggum: Um, they've, uh, mysteriously, er, disappeared.
[all the policemen put on new jeans]
Looking good, boys.
Marge: That's it. There's too much corruption on this force. I quit.
[all the policemen laugh for a long time]
Wiggum: Ah. Sorry to lose you, Simpson.
Lenny: [in the kitchen] I don't think they're coming back.
Moe: All right, that does it: I'm looking at his cards.
[does so] Aw, crap. I fold.
-- The neverending poker game,
"The Springfield Connection"
