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Fat Tony: Sorry we're late. Could we have the money now?
Marge: The answer… is no.
Fat Tony: I'm afraid I must insist. You see, my wife, she has been most vocal on the subject of the pretzel monies. "Where's the money? "When are you going to get the money?" "Why aren't you getting the money now?" And so on.
Fat Tony: You have 24 hours to give us our money. And to show you we're serious… you have 12 hours.
Helen: I don't understand why they won't unload our falafel fixings.
Lou: Ship's impounded, ma'am.
Chief Wiggum: Yeah, we, uh, found a couple of barnacles on the hull; that and, uh, the deck was, uh, wet.
Helen: That's crazy! And what are those men doing under my van? [the men flee the van]
Chief Wiggum: Look, lady, if I was you, I would just leap into the air as I am preparing to do. [they both leap and the van explodes]
Homer: Marge needs help… and God knows I'm not the man to provide it. But I know who can!
Homer: Hey, what's all that commotion outside? Why, it's one of those pretzel wagons the movie stars are always talking about.
Lenny: (gasps) Here? At our plant?
Homer: That's right, Lenny. Let's all give in to deliciousness--The Pretzel Wagon way!
(Everyone cheers)
Homer: Yeah! Homer's right!
(It's a black day for baseball after fans hurl their pretzels onto the field at an Isotopes game.)
Bart: Oh, cheer up, Mom. You can't buy publicity like that. Thousands and thousands of people saw your pretzels injuring Whitey Ford.
Homer: You can call them Whitey-Whackers!
Marge: Hmm! It's not bad!
Frank: It's not only not bad -- it's not bread. "Knot bread", you get it?… See?
Marge: (they both laugh) I do! Knot bread!
Disco Stu: Did you know that disco record sales were up 400% for the year ending 1976? If these trends continue… A-y-y-y!
(puts his feet up on his desk wearing see-through platform shoes with water and fish inside)
Homer: Uh, your fish are dead.
Disco Stu: Yeah, I know. I… can't get them out of there.
Royce: That's the miracle of the franchise. You get all the equipment and know-how you need, plus a familiar brand-name people trust. You'll be on a rocket-ride to the moon! And while you're there, would you pick up some of that nice, green moon money for me … Royce McCutcheon!
Homer: No deal, McCutcheon, that moon money is mine!
Marge: I'm not wild about these high-risk ventures. They sound a little risky.
Fat Tony: Greetings, Homer.
Homer: Hey! Fat Tony! You still with the mafia?
Fat Tony: Uh, uh, yes, I am. Thank you for asking. Now, Homer, as you no doubt recall, you were done a favor by our, uh, how shall I say...Mafia Crime Syndicate.
Homer: Oh yeah.
Fat Tony: Now the time has come for you to do us a favor.
Homer: You mean the mob only did me a favor to get something in return? Oh, Fat Tony! I will say good day to you, sir!
Fat Tony: Ok. I will go.
(Fat Tony leaves.)
Fat Tony: (Realizing what just happened) Wait a minute!
Marge: Here you go! Free Pretzel Wagon pretzels for everyone. One bite and you'll be hooked!
Principal Skinner: Thank you!
Pedro: Gracias!
Homer: That means "thank you," Marge!
Frank: Congratulations, and welcome to the dynamic world of mobile pretzel retailing.
Marge: When can I start? Where's my territory?
Frank: Your..territory...well, lemme tell ya. Wherever a young mother is ignorant of what to feed her baby, you'll be there. Wherever nacho penetration is less than total, you'll be there. Wherever a Bavarian is not quite full, you will be there.
Marge: Don't forget fat people. They can't stop eating!
(Homer walks by.)
Homer: Hey, pretzels!
Homer: What do you need to make money for, anyway? As long as I have my earning power, this family's got nothing to worry about.
(Homer stabs himself in the eye with a hot dog.)
Homer: Ow! Call work and tell 'em I won't be in tomorrow!
Marge: Alright, Helen. If I'm not wanted I'll leave.
Helen: You'll get your pancakes in the mail.
(later at the Simpson house)
Marge: Uhh… and then they gave me back my $500 investment and kicked me out of the club.
Homer: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Back up a bit now. When are the pancakes coming in the mail?
(Discussing high-risk investments)
Mrs. Krabappel: Oh! Oh! How about Oklasoft? It's Oklahoma's fastest-growing software company.
Maude: Um, cushions? Everybody likes to sit on cushions.
Agnes: Children are so fat today. Isn't there some way we could make money off that?
(Lenny is first in line at Marge's pretzel stand.)
Lenny: Uh, lets see...I'll have one, uh--
Carl: Hey, hurry up. I wanna get my pretzel.
Lenny: One pretzel.
Marge: Thank you.
Carl: Lets see...Uh, I will have one of your, uh--
Mr. Burns: Come on, come on, while we're young.
Marge: Well, I guess Macy's and Gimbels learned to live side by side.
Agnes: Gimbels is gone, Marge. Long gone. You're Gimbels.
(Marge and Homer stand at the front door as a mob war is takes place outside.)
Marge: Maybe we should go inside.
Homer: But Marge, that little guy hasn't done anything yet. Look at him! He's gonna do something and you know its gonna be good.
(Door closes behind Homer.)
Little Japanese Mobster: Hiiiiya!
(A loud thud can be heard.)
Homer: Aww.
(After Homer has handed Moe a $50 bill.)
Moe: Homer, you know your money is no good here--Hey wait, this is real money!
(After Cletus orders 300 pretzels with 300 coupons.)
Marge: I should have said "limit one per customer".
Cletus: Shoulda' but didna', so hands 'em over.
(Marge is watching a video instructing her on how to set up her business.)
Frank Ormand: Blanket your community with flyers. A phony ticker-tape parade will help you avoid litter laws.
(Cut to Homer driving Lisa through the street in an astronaut helmet.)
Chief Wiggum: (Teary-eyed) Welcome back, Space Girl!
Marge: Homer! Did you tell the mafia they could eliminate my competitors with savage beatings and attempted murder?
Homer: (swallowing beer) In those words? Yes.
Homer: I saw you pouring your heart and soul into this business and getting nowhere. I saw you desperately trying to cram one more salty treat into America's already bloated snack hole. So I did what I could. I did what any loving husband would do! I reached out to some violent mobsters.
(Maude, Helen, Agnes and Mrs. Krabappel stop and say hello to Marge.)
Marge: Helen.
Helen: Marge.
Marge: Edna.
Mrs. Krabappel: Marge.
Marge: (To Agnes) Ummm--
Agnes: Agnes, my name is Agnes and you know it's Agnes! It means "lamb," "lamb of God."
Hostess: Let's hear it for the newest members of the Fleet-A-Pita franchise! [Patti LaBelle's "New Attitude" plays, as the members walk through a Fleet-A-Pita paper wall] Maude! Helen! Agnes! Luanne! Edna! Bart!
Bart: Whoo! We're number one! We're number one! [a guard grabs him by his collar and drags him along] Hey, what's going on? [protests] Wait, wait, hey...
Frank Ormand [on the "Pretzel Wagon" videocassette]: Hello. I'm Frank Ormand, and if you're watching me, that means you've got pretzel fever and not the kind that attacked my intestinal lining some years back. [laughs] So let's get your franchise up and running.
Marge: [reading the poster with the cat on it] "Hang in there, baby!" You said it, kitty. [looks more closely] "Copyright 1968." Hmm, determined or not, that cat must be long dead. That's kind of a downer.
[Homer goes to Frank Ormand's house and a woman in black answers the door.]
Homer: I'm here to see Mr. Ormand.
Woman: Of course. Right this way.
[In the living room is Ormand's funeral being held]
Homer: Oh, I guess I should speak to the executor of his estate.
Woman: [whispering] He's right over there. [points to another coffin] They were in the same car.
[When Marge delivers pretzels to Springfield Elementary School]
Marge [to Principal Skinner]: Are you sure the children will get enough nutrition from these pretzels?
Principal Skinner: [in a robotic tone] Yes, I am sure. Sure as sure can be. [uses his injured right hand to give Marge her money]
Marge: Oh my god. What happened to your fingers?
Thug: [from inside the room] Boating accident...
Principal Skinner: I believe it was a boking accident. [from behind, a targeting beam aims for his head] I have to go now.
[Marge's car is knocked off the road by Fat Tony's limo]
Marge: Hey! Wh-what's going on?!
[Fat Tony walks to the car, and tries to take the keys -- but they won't come off]
Fat Tony: Is, uh, there a button or a release for these keys?
Marge: Oh. Oh, you have to push in as you turn.
Fat Tony: Ah. [does so]
Marge: Yeah, that's it.
[Grampa arrives to the Simpsons' house in his underwear]
Grampa: I had that dream again.
Homer: Oh, thank God, it's only Grampa. [slams door]
Edna: Well, well, if it isn't Marge Simpson and her gangland cronies.
Maude: Your goon squads certainly gave you the edge in the mobile snack business. But I'm afraid we've outdone you once again. Hiroshi, Yukio...[steps aside to reveal a group of armed Japanese mobsters] Perhaps you've heard of the Yakuza: the Poison Fists of the Pacific Rim, the Japanese mafia.
Agnes: They'll kill ya five times before you hit the ground!
Lisa: [yawning] What's going on outside?
Marge: Oh it's just a mob war. Go back to sleep, honey.
[The little Japanese mobster is tossed through the kitchen window]
Little Japanese Mobster: [wipes glass from his suit and bows] Forgive-a-ness, please! [runs out the backdoor to return to the fight]
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