Boyle: Hmmmm... Well, we do have a product which is more in your price range. However...
[Dr. Boyle pulls out a giant jug labeled "Hair in a Drum," priced at $19.95.]
Boyle: [continuing] I must assure you that any hair growth you experience while using it will be purely coincidental. audio clip
[At the plant, Homer grumbles about the high cost of Dimoxinil.]
Lenny: Homer, don't be a sap all your life. Just fill out a few medical insurance forms creatively. Charge that Dimoxinil stuff to the company.
Homer: But it's a thousand bucks. Burns would can my butt in no time flat.
Lenny: [mockingly] Oooohhh. A thousand bucks. So what? To Mr. Burns, that's one less ivory backscratcher.
[After thinking it over, Homer returns to the Hair Clinic and talks to Dr. Boyle again.]
Homer: [hesitantly] Uuuhhh ... I'd like to charge that Dimoxinil stuff to my health insurance.
Boyle: [loudly and angrily] Look, buddy, I don't know who put you up to this, but no insurance plan in this state covers something as frivolous as Dimoxinil!
[Dr. Boyle turns on a stereo, which plays "Mexican Hat Dance," and turns the volume up.]
Boyle: [whispering under the music] Meet me in the alley in fifteen minutes. Come alone.
[The Dimoxinil works and Homer now has hair. At work, he has been promoted to executive and is in his new office interviewing candidates for a secretarial job.]
Homer: Besides typing and stuff, do you have any other qualifications I should know about?
Attractive Woman Candidate: I give great back rubs to haired executives. [seductively] Here, let me show you.
[She steps toward Homer, obviously putting him ill at ease.]
Homer: No, no! That'll be fine. Thank you. Goodbye.
[They hang up while Karl takes a seat in front of Homer's desk. Smithers pops in and summons Homer to a meeting tomorrow afternoon, then leaves.]
Homer: [grumbling about Smithers] He thinks he's so big.
Karl: You don't belong here.
Homer: Huh?
Karl: [pointing emphatically at Homer] You. Don't. Belong. Here. You're a fraud and a phony and it's only a matter of time 'till they find you out!
Homer: [gasping] Who told you?
Karl: You did. You told me with the way you slump your shoulders. The way you talk into your chest. The way you smother yourself in bargain-basement lime-green polyester! I want you to say to yourself, "I deserve this. I love it. I am nature's greatest miracle!" Go ahead, say it.
Homer: [after a few bumbling attempts] I deserve this! I AM NATURE'S GREATEST MIRACLE!
Karl: I'll need three weeks' vacation and moving expenses.
[In an attempt to grow a beatnik beard, Bart has managed to waste Homer's entire supply of Dimoxinil.]
Homer: [strangling Bart] BOY! MUST! DIE!
Bart: I love you, Dad!
Homer: D'oh! [stops strangling] Dirty trick. Okay, I'm not going to kill you, but I'm going to tell you three things that are gonna haunt you for the rest of your days. You've ruined your father, you've crippled your family, and [louder] BALDNESS IS HEREDITARY!
Bart: It is?!
[Homer weeps as he rubs his head against the spilled Dimoxinil]
Lisa: Dad is taking this in a less-than-heroic fashion.
[After Smithers inspects the personnel files, he discovers that Homer charged the Dimoxinil to the company, and tells Mr. Burns.]
Mr. Burns: BLAST HIS HIDE TO HADES!! And I was going to buy that ivory backscratcher!
[Now without hair, Homer has a crisis of confidence just before he's due to make a big presentation. Karl tries to give him a boost.]
Karl: Don't you see? The tartar sauce, the bathroom key, drying your boss's hands — you did it all. It was never the hair. You did it because you believed you could and you still can!
Homer: No, I can't. I'm just a big fool.
Karl: Oh no, you're not.
Homer: How do you know?
Karl: Because my mother taught me never to kiss a fool! [kisses Homer]
Homer: [surprised] Karl!
Karl: Now go get 'em, tiger!
[Homer growls and charges out the door. As he leaves, Karl pats him on the behind.]
[After Homer's speech fails, Mr. Burns demotes him back to his old job. Crushed, Homer tells Marge about it.]
Homer: I'm stuck in that dead-end job again. The kids are gonna hate me 'cause I can't buy 'em all the stuff I promised 'em. And you're not gonna love me as much 'cause I'm ugly and bald!
Marge: Oh, Homer. Your job has always put food on our table, and the kids will get over it.
Homer: And? What about ... [he trails off]
Marge: Oh, Homer ... come here. [breaks into song] You are so beautiful, to me.
[They cuddle while she sings the rest of the song for Homer.]
[Mr. Burns is seen viewing security cam footage.]
Mr. Burns: Morons, pathetic morons in my employ, stealing my precious money. This is hopeless, none of these cretins deserves a promotion.
Smithers: It's in the Union Contract, sir. One token promotion from within per year.
Mr. Burns: [pointing at a footage of Homer with hair] Wait! Who's that young go-getter?
Smithers: Well it sort of looks like (chuckles) Homer Simpson, except more dynamic and resourceful.
Mr. Burns: Simpson, huh? Hmm. An unspoiled lump of clay to mold in my own image. Our new junior executive. Bring him to me!
Sector 7-G
Smithers: (on P.A) Attention Homer Simpson, you have just been promoted. You have five minutes to wish your friends goodbye. After that please report upstairs for a new and better life.
