(After learning the train has been delayed in Waynesport)
Mr. Burns: Hmm, this could take a good while. (opens crystal bottle of brandy) Why don't you get drunk and stumble around comically for my amusement?
Smithers: I will be a one-man conga line, sir.
(Larry is running after a train)
Larry: Hey, Casey Jones, where's this train headed?
Larry: Yeah yeah, what state?
Conductor: [answers back but is muffled by train horn]
Larry: Wow, this guy is loaded. I mean, sheesh. I've never seen a guy with a walk-in mailbox. I mean he's rich. Hey, who am I talking to?
(Larry rings doorbell of Burns residence. Mr. Burns answers)
Mr. Burns: Who are you? How dare you interrupt my lime rickey! State your business!
Mr. Burns: (interrupting curtly) You are what?! Selling light bulbs? Worried about the whales? Keen on Jesus? Out with it!
Larry: Mr. Burns, I am your son!
Mr. Burns: Something is not right about Larry's upbringing. Send for the boys of Yale at once!
(Burns' office. Two admissions officers from Yale are by his desk)
Mr. Burns: Well, did you meet Larry?
Male Admissions Officer: Oh yes. He made light of my weight problem, then suggested my motto ought to be "Semper Fudge". After that he told me to "relax".
Mr. Burns: How were his test scores?
Female Admissions Officer: Let's just say this: he spelled "Yale" with a 6.
(Mr. Burns, in a not-to-subtle moves, opens his checkbook)
Mr. Burns: I see. Well, I- ...Oh, that reminds me, it is time for your annual contribution. How much should I give?
Male Admissions Officer: Well frankly, test scores like Larry's would merit a very generous donation. A score of 400 would require new football uniforms. 300 would require a new dormitory. And in Larry's case? We'd need an international airport.
Female Admissions Officer: Yale could use an international airport, Mr. Burns.
Mr. Burns: Are you mad?! I am not made of airports! Get out!
Ned: Well, if God didn't make little green apples, it's Homer Simpson! How long have you been here?
Ned: Sucking down the cider, huh? Word for the wise, seasons pass. Pays for itself after the sixteenth visit. You know, most people don't know the difference between apple cider and apple juice, but I do! Here's a little trick to help you remember: If it's clear an' yella, you got juice there fellah; if it's tangy and brown you're in cider town! Now, there are two exceptions that...
Homer's Brain: Oh, you can stay, but I'm leaving.
(Homer's brain floats out of his head)
Ned: ...and of course in Canada, the whole thing's flip-flopped.
(Homer collapses to the ground)
Ned: Oh, my! I better get you some cider!
Marge: Careful of the apple pie on the seat.
Marge: Grampa, are you sitting on the pie?
Grampa: I sure hope so.
Marge: Next to spring and winter, fall is my absolute favorite season. Just look at all this beautiful foilage.
Lisa: It's not "foilage," Mom, it's "foliage." Fo-liage.
Marge: That's what I said, foilage. It doesn't take a nucular scientist to pronounce "foilage".
Larry: I'm looking for this guy. (holds up a photo of Mr. Burns) Anybody know who he is?
Larry: Okay, so there's been a little of friction. Know his address?
Lisa: What a perfect outing for a beautiful autumn day.
Marge: I feel sorry for everyone who's cooped up inside watching the 7th game of the World Series.
Homer: (mockingly) Yeah, they won't learn anything about apples today.
Homer: …and Larry and I have so much in common, Marge, way more than you and me. If I could be stranded on an island with anyone, it would definitely be Larry.
Marge: I think we've heard enough about Larry Burns for one evening.
Homer: Why? It's not like anything interesting happened to anyone else today.
(Bart is examining a diamond, Lisa has her arm in a cast, and Maggie is wearing a "Cutest Baby" contest sash)
Mr. Burns: Nobody steals from Mr. Burns, whether it be my Sunday newspaper or my loutish oaf of a son!
Homer: Hold on, Mr. Burns! Maybe we did fake a kidnapping, but is that really such a crime? All your son wanted was a little attention, a little love. (He and Larry jump in to the basket of a crane lift) I'm a father myself sir. And sure it's sometimes my kids can be obnoxious, (Bart makes an angry face) or boring, (Lisa makes an angry face) or stinky, (Maggie sucks her pacifier and makes an angry face) but they can always count on one thing: their father's unconditional love. (Homer then jumps out the crane lift basket and hugs his family.)