HF D-ohh!

( screams )

( screaming )

Why do they have to put all this crud

in my newspaper?

"World," "The Arts," "Religion."

A-ha! Here it is.

"Kickin' Back!"

Hey, who cut something out of my paper?

Not me.

Not me. I'm more of a mail-tamperer.

Well don't look at me, just because I'm holding a pair of scissors.

Scissors...

which I need to... to...

gussy up these curtains.

( rings)

Hello.

Oh, hi, Lenny.

No, why would I need a ride this afternoon?

( noisy vacuuming)

Where?!

To the big annual what?!

Lenny? Aw, well, if it was big and annual

I'm sure they'd have mentioned it in the newspaper.

Yeah, it's a lazy, dog-dangling afternoon.

But something's a little off.

Hey, Marge, you don't smoke.

Well, I just felt like filling the house

with the rich, satisfying smell of tobacco.

( coughs )

You're nuts.

I got to get some fresh air.

No, Homie, wait.

What's wrong with you?

What are you trying to hide from me?

What's that smell?

Onions... chili powder... cumin... juicy ground chuck!

It's chili! Oh, my God!

I'm missing the chili cook-off!

I'm missing the cook-off.

It's going on right now and I'm gonna miss it.

All right, I was trying to keep it from you

but I had a good reason.

Every time you go to that cook-off

you get drunk as a poet on payday.

Remember last year?

Look at me.

I'm a puffy pink cloud.

Yee-hee-hee-ha-ha!

Oh, well, of course

everything looks bad if you remember it.

Now, where are my chili boots?

Ah!

( grunting)

Okay, we'll go to the chili cook-off.

But I want you to promise me you won't have any beer.

Okay, quit nagging me.

I won't have any beer.

Geez, why don't you have a cigarette or something?

Mm, I suppose I could.

I'm going to get some vegetarian chili

before they get desperate and add meat.

I'm going to go claim some valuables

at the lost and found.

Ooh, look at that adorable spice rack.

Eight spices?

Oh, some must be doubles.

"Oregano"?

What the hell...

Marge, we're missing the chili.

Less artsy, more fartsy.

Homer, I happen to like handicrafts

much more than stuffing my face.

Fine. I'll come find you

when I'm ready to stop having fun.

Remember your promise-- no drinking.

Stupor pooper.

Howdy, howdy, Marge and Hom...

Oh, my mistake.

Homer's not even with you.

Probably just knocking back a few "refreshments."

Thank you for your concern, Helen.

Homer isn't drinking today.

Oh, I think it's lovely that he said that

and that you believed him.

Now, Helen, let us not glory in Homer's binge-drinking.

There but for the grace of God goes Marge herself.

Ooh, man, he's here--

The dude with the fireproof stomach.

Whoa! Spoon! Spoon! Spoon!

They say he carved it himself

from a bigger spoon.

Five-alarm chili, eh?

Mm-hmm.

One... two...

Hey, what's the big idea?

Oh, I admit it.

It's only two-alarm, two-and-a-half, tops.

I just wanted to be a big man in front of the kids.

Daddy, are you going to jail?

We'll see, Son.

We'll see.

Evenin', little lady.

Do you reckon a square could get a dance?

Oh... it looks so complicated.

Do you know how?

Ma'am, I wouldn't honk the honk if I couldn't tonk the tonk.

Woo-woo!

Hmm.

A bland, timid entry

suitable, perhaps, for patients recovering from surgery.

That Simpson

he thinks he's the pope of chili town.

Well, this year I am ready for him.

Homer: Hello, Chief.

Afternoon, Homer.

Care for some chili?

I've added an extra ingredient just for you--

The merciless peppers of Quetzlzacatenango!

( crowd gasps)

Grown deep

in the jungle primeval

by the inmates of a Guatemalan insane asylum.

Uh, Wiggy? My chili's getting cold.

( screaming)

Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot!

D-ohh!

Oh, my tongue is burning up!

Beer! Baby needs a beer!

Homer!

You promised you wouldn't drink.

But I need it!

Yeah.

Oh, lousy Wiggum.

Now the whole town thinks I'm a chili wuss.

Wait, Mister.

You're drinking a candle.

You don't want to get wax in your mouth, do you?

Maybe I do, son.

Maybe I do.

( gags)

Outstanding.

Hey, everybody, look who's back.

It's the big baby!

Oh, this porridge is too hot.

Oh, waa-waa-waa!

Want some more, do you?

Well, sure.

It's not my job to talk people out of killing themselves.

Ah...

( gasps)

Unbelievable.

More, please.

Good Lord, this can't be happening.

By all medical logic

steam should be shooting out of his ears.

His ears if we're lucky.

Well, Chief, don't quit your day job...

whatever that is.

( crowd laughs and applauds )

My finest hour...

and Marge wasn't even here to see it.

( low, volcanic rumbling)

Ooh, I don't feel so good.

Flanders, you've got to help me.

Sure, buddy. I'd be happy to help out.

What can I do... diddly do...

diddily-doodily-diddily-hoobily- hobbily-hibbily-gooble-gobble...

gooble gabba-gabba-hey?

Goo-goo-ga-joob?

Haw! Haw!

Haw haw!

( waa-waa trumpet sound)

( distorted belch)

( screams )

Mister, do you need some help?

Let him go, Ralph.

He knows what he's doing.

( bewildered wail)

( panting )

What's happening to me?

Okay, retrace your steps...

Woke up, fought with Marge, ate Guatemalan insanity peppers.

Then I... ohh.

Where am I? Shelbyville?

( screams)

Man, this is crazy.

I hope I didn't brain my damage.

I better check my pupils.

( hissing)

Oh... kay.

I think I'm going to be leaving now.

Huh?

Sunrise, sunset...

Sunrise, sunset...

Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset

Sunrise, sunset, sunrise...

( screams)

Note to self: Stop doing anything.

Has anyone seen Homer?

Marge, better you hear it from me

than some gossipy neighbor.

Homer made a total jackass of himself.

Oh, Helen, that's enough.

Call off your dogs.

But someone had to tell her.

And I got here first.

Helen, zip it. Oh please. Tim.

Zip it. Ziparoo.

No beer, huh?

( growling)

I guess I know what a promise from Homer J. Simpson is worth.

Hey, buddy, get back there with the other rocks.

Huh?

A tortoise?

"Follow... the..."

This must be why I'm here!

Follow the what? Follow the what?

Hurry up!

Get moving you stupid...

When I'm kicking you, that means hurry up.

Come on.

Oh, you want me to climb that, huh?

No problemo.

Oh!

This is 'cause I kicked you, isn't it?

Lis, check it out.

I saw it, Bart.

You're just mad

'cause there's no clock in your hat.

What hat?

This baby's wasted on an idiot like you.

Where's Homer?

Your father decided that he'd rather come home

in a taxi... or a police car.

( gasping)

Marge, thank God you're here.

Where's the car?

Marge? Marge?

Oh, now what?

If you're still mad at me, I'm going to be really mad.

Come on, Marge, will you..?

Fight fair.

I never do this to you.

Talk to me!

Oh, I hate this place.

Why am I here?

Voice: You are on a quest for knowledge.

Who said that?

Fear not, Homer.

I am your spirit guide.

Hiya.

There is a lesson you must learn.

If it's about laying off the insanity peppers

I'm way ahead of you.

No, I speak of a deeper wisdom.

The problem, Homer

is that the mind is always chattering away

with a thousand thoughts at once.

Yeah, that's me all right.

Clarity is the path to inner peace.

Well, what should I do?

Should I meditate?

Should I get rid of all my possessions?

Are you kidding?!

( chuckles): If anything, you should get more possessions

you don't even have a computer.

You know, I have been meaning to take a spiritual journey

and I...

( growling)

Hey, knock it off!

Sorry.

I am a coyote.

Look, just give me some inner peace

or I'll mop the floor with you.

Good. Your mind is in a state of readiness.

So listen well.

To make yourself complete

you must find your soul mate.

Soul mate?

Your kindred spirit.

The one with whom you share an unspoken bond

a profound mystical understanding.

That's it?

Well, that's Marge. Big deal.

Great spiritual quest, Wolfie.

My soul mate is Marge.

Is it?

Hey wait. Come back.

Oh.

( horn blowing )

Oh! A ghost train!

And so little time to get out of the way.

Now less...

Now none!

D-ohh!

Hey, get off the course, you bum!

Security.

( whistle blowing)

Wha..? Golf course?

Did I dream that whole thing?

Maybe the desert was just a sand trap.

Oh, and I bet

that crazy pyramid was just the Pro Shop.

And that talking coyote was really just a talking dog.

Hi, Homer. Find your soul mate.

Hey, wait a minute.

There's no such thing as a talking dog.

( barking)

Damn straight.

So then I says to Mabel, I says...

Hi, kids.

I'll finish this later. Hi Dad.

Where is your mother?

Out back.

So anyway, I says to Mabel, I says...

Hi, honey.

( with singsong voice): Oh, I guess you're cranky

because I didn't come home last night.

I'm "cranky" because my husband got drunk

and humiliated me in front of the entire town.

You broke your promise, Homer.

Oh, honey, I didn't get drunk.

I just went to a strange fantasy world.

Come on, you got to believe me.

You're my soul mate.

Don't "soul mate" me!

Okay.

That coyote said my soul mate would understand me

but Marge doesn't understand me at all.

Maybe we're not kindred spirits.

We don't have anything in common.

Look at these records.

Jim Nabors, Glen Campbell, The Doodletown Pipers.

Now look at her records...

They stink.

Maybe I had that crazy dream for a reason.

Wherever my soul mate is, it's not here.

I always just figured my wife was my soul mate

but if it's not Marge, then who is it?

Where do I begin looking?

This really goes beyond my training

as a furniture salesman, sir.

Now, if you don't want the sofa

I'll have to ask you to leave.

Hey, Barney, soul mate, let me buy you a beer.

Okay, but I'm not your soul mate.

I'm really more of a chum.

What about you, Lenny?

I'm a crony.

Carl? I'd say acquaintance.

Colleague. Sympathizer.

Compadre. Associate.

Contemporary.

I'm a well-wisher

in that I don't wish you any specific harm.

( sighs)

Hello? Is this, uh...

G.B.M.?

Uh, yeah. I read in the personals

you were seeking a soul mate

and, well, I also like rainy days and movies.

Uh-huh.

Uh... no... I don't like that

or that.

No, it's not that I'm afraid.

I'm going to hang up now. Bye-bye.

Oh... I give up.

Coyote: Find your soul mate, Homer.

Find your soul mate.

Where? Where?

This is just your memory.

I can't give you any new information.

♪ I learned the truth at 17 ♪

♪ That love was meant for beauty queens ♪

♪ And high school girls ♪

♪ with clear-skin smiles ♪

♪ Who married young and then retired ♪

♪ The valentines I never knew ♪

♪ The Friday night charades of you ♪

♪ Were spent on one more beautiful... ♪

( sighs)

Huh?

What's that blinking light?

( gasps)

The lighthouse keeper.

The loneliest man in the world.

He'll understand me.

( panting)

Earl.

My new friend's name is Earl.

Here I come, buddy!

No more loneliness for Homer and Earl.

A machine?

Earl's a machine?

Oh, that's just perfect.

Homer's desperate search for a soul mate has yielded

a lighthouse-keeping robot.

Oh, wow.

Hey, look, is that Dad?