Bart: [on radio] People of Earth, this is Bartron, commander of the Martian invasion force. Your planet is in our hands. Resistance is useless. We have captured your President. He was delicious!
[Homer screams, runs out of the kitchen, and fetches a shotgun.]
[Bart and his microphone strike again. This time the victims are Rod and Todd Flanders.]
Krusty: I called my good friend Sting. He said, "Krusty, when do you need me?" I said, "Thursday." He said, "I'm busy Thursday." I said, "What about Friday?" He said, "Friday's worse than Thursday." Then he said, "How about Saturday?" I said, "Fine." True story!
Lisa: Bart Simpson. The thought of a boy trapped in a well brought out the kindness and love of the entire community. When they find out you've been fooling them, they're gonna want to cut you up with rusty razors.
Bart: Oh Yeah? And how are they gonna find out?
Lisa: The police will catch you sooner or later.
Bart: The police. *snort* They couldn’t catch a cold.
Lisa: Maybe not, but I bet you’re stupid enough to have left a “Property of Bart Simpson” label on that radio.
Bart then came to the realisation as you flash towards and down the well to find his radio, bearing the “Property of Bart Simpson” label*
Bart: Doh!
[As Bart is trapped in the well]
Marge: Hey Bart! I have a sweater you can wear! [She throws the sweater into the well]
Homer: What I can stand, I can stand no more! I'm gonna get you out of there myself!
[As Homer starts digging, Groundskeeper Willie sees what he's doing]
Willie: Now why didn't I think of that?! [retrieves his own shovel from his shack] Agnes... we've got work to do! [rips his shirt and the top of his overalls off]
[Led by Homer, a group of townspeople work to dig Bart out of the well after the city of Springfield refuses to help.]
Falcon Man: Grasping the child firmly in his talons, Socrates here will fly him to safety! Just watch. [The falcon is released and flies away.] I don't think he's coming back.
Marge: What are you doing to save my baby boy?
Chief Wiggum: There is a piece of machinery in Shreveport, Louisiana that could pop him out of the well, lickety-split.
Marge: Well, why don't you get it?
Chief Wiggum: I'm afraid we've got a budget problem, Marge. Your boy picked a bad time to fall down a well. If he had done it at the beginning of the fiscal year, no problemo.
Marge: You are saying that the taxpayers will not pay to save a child?
Chief Wiggum: They would have for Timmy O'Toole. Everyone loved him. But your son, uh, played us all for chumps.
Homer: Well, he fell down the well and... can't get out.
Lisa: How does that make him a hero?
Homer: Well, it's more than you did!
Bart: [at the barber shop, getting a shave] Digital audio tape, my butt! When I was a kid, we had compact discs, and I don't recall no one complaining.
Barber: Damn right.
Homer: Don't worry, son. Just 'cuz you're trapped in a hole doesn't mean you can't live a rich and full life.
