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Ladies and gentlemen, the Springfield Mall, in conjunction with Nostalgia Licensing Corporation, is proud to present the Stars of Bonanza! Thank you. I just wish Ben and Hoss and Little Joe and Hopsing and Sheriff Roy and all your favorites could be alive today to see this wonderful turnout. You know, on the series, we were always trying to kill the Cartwrights. But it looks like Father Time took care of that for us, right? Am I right, folks? This sucks. Weren't there three Indians last year? Look, Marge. They opened a new high-tech gadget store. You love high-tech gadgets. No, I don't. Lightbulb, you don't. Come on. Oh, please. You're hurting my arm. No, I'm not. Hey, Lise, check out this space-age toothbrush. That's an electric nostril groomer. Night vision goggles? A bathroom scale from a Soviet sub? A suede briefcase case? Anyone who needs this kind of status symbol must have some terrible emotional problems. Marge, look! The world's best jacket. If I had this, it would show everybody. Show everybody? Yes, finally. I would like to return your quote-unquote ultimate belt. I see. Do you have a receipt? Quote-unquote, sir. No, I do not have a receipt. I won it as a duo prize at the Star Trek convention, although I find their choice of prize highly illogical, as the average Trekker has no use for a medium-sized belt. Oh, a fat, sarcastic Star Trek fan. You must be a devil with the ladies. Hey, I... Oh, gee, I hate to let you down, Casanova, but no receipt, no return. I'll give you four bucks for it. Very well. I must hurry back to my comic book store, where I dispense the insults rather than absorb them. Wow! I bet if God wore pants, he'd have a belt like that. This isn't a belt. It's a tactical pants retaining system. Check it out. Compass, matches, whistle, saw, panic button, squirrel snare, radon slash lie detector, stigmomanometer, and it's even got turn signals. Wow! Hey, Simpson, wanna trade belts? Well, not really, 'cause yours is just a piece of extension cord. Hey, dude, he's ragging on your cord. Get him! No running! Time for a little evasive action. Hey, he's turning left. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but you guys asked for it. Can't you read? Call the police! Hey, Dad. Looking good, son. Hey, what happened to your belt? Some bullies beat me up and took it. Son, there's only one thing punks like that understand. Squealing. You've got to squeal to every teacher and every grown-up you can find. Coming to me was a good start. But now they'll just beat me up even worse. Yes, they are a clever bunch. I know. I'll squeal for you to their parents. That's for telling me how to raise my lousy kid. This is for the crummy life I've had to live. The thing is, I really loved that belt and... Hey, something's wrong with this guy. He's not falling down. Fun's over, fellas. If you're gonna beat up my friend in my bar, there's a two-drink minimum. Geez, Homer. I never seen a guy stand up to that kind of punishment. I mean, you took a three-man pounding and didn't even fall down. Big deal. I didn't even get my kid's belt back. The only thing a loser like me is good for is taking beating. There you go. That's the spirit. Homer, I've seen prize fighters couldn't take a punch half as good as you. You know, boxing might be right up your alley. Really? Oh, please.It's the good life, Homer. Some of these boxers, they eat steak and lobster and salad bar all in a single meal. Dressing? Their choice. You really think I could do it? Well, I don't know. Are you man enough to test every one of your limits? Yes. And are you man enough to throw a punch should the opportunity arise? Yes. And are you man enough to give me a 60% cut? Yes. I'll take it. Whoo-hoo! Now, Homer, if I'm gonna manage your boxing career, I want you to have complete faith in me. Come here. Let me show you something. Wow. I've never been in here before. Yeah. Well, when I realized we hadn't had no ladies in here since 1979, I turned it into an office. You used to be a boxer just like me? Yup. They called me Kid Gorgeous. Later on, it was Kid Presentable. Then Kid Gruesome. And finally, Kid Moe. Hey, what's this? Oh, that's my old spit bucket. Yeah, I've been meaning to empty that out. You know Lucius Sweet? He's one of the biggest names in boxing. He's exactly as rich and as famous as Don King. And he looks just like him, too. Yeah, he was my manager. Back when I was gorgeous, everybody wanted a piece of me. But somehow, I just never made it to the big time. Why not? 'Cause I got knocked out 40 times in a row. That plus politics. You know, it's all politics. Love you, Democrat. Homer, of all the crazy ideas you've had, this one ranks somewhere in the middle. You're 38 years old. You don't know how to box, and you haven't gotten any exercise since grade school. Before you even consider this, I insist you consult a doctor. No problem. A competent doctor! Well, sir, you more than meet every one of this state's requirements to box, wrestle, or be shot out of a cannon. That's all we get for living in a state founded by circus freaks. You have an absolutely unique genetic condition known as Homer Simpson Syndrome. Why me? Don't worry. It's quite beneficial. Your brain is cushioned by a layer of fluid one-eighth of an inch thicker than normal. It's almost as if you're wearing a football helmet inside your own head. Why, I could wallop you all day with this surgical two-by-four without ever knocking you down. But I have other appointments. All right, Homer. Let's see the left. OK. Let's see the right. Just a second. When you're ready. All right. Ready. Wait a minute. All right. Wait a minute. Just a second. OK. Punching isn't your thing, but that's OK. You're not that kind of fighter. What you're gonna do is stand there while your opponent gets exhausted from over-punching. Then I can just push him over. That's right. And if the ref's not looking, you can kick him a couple of times. Who's gonna knock you down? No one. When are you gonna fight back? Never. What are you gonna do? Nothing. That's my boy. Man. You'd never get me into a ring. Boxing causes brain damage. OK. You're fighting a guy named Boxcar Bob. Brawled his way up from the boxcars, did he? No, not yet. He still lives at the train yard. But he's a hungry young fighter. In fact, he's actually fighting for a sandwich. Homer. I want you to have my lucky mitts. I hope you do better with them than I did. Gee, thanks, Moe. What's this? That's the barbed wire. We call that the stinger. They don't let you use that no more. Now, no matter how much he hits you, you don't do nothing, OK? You don't want to get thrown into a boxing match here. Punches. Man. That tramp's got the energy of a hobo. Yeah. He never stops punching. Except to check out his bimbo. OK, Homer. He's tired. Now's your chance. Nudge him. Lucius. Hey. What's a glitterati like you doing in my dump? I thought you were managing the champ. Yes. Managing rhetoric has been my highest priority. Even though he is temporarily incarcerated for pushing his mother down the stairs, but with his impending release, I've been strategizing for his glorious return to the shores of Pistiana. Um, what? His comeback fight. You know, boxing. Oh, oh, man. Yeah, well, who's donating his body for that one, huh? Well, word is, you manage a stalwart young pugilist who cannot be knocked down. Homer? You want Homer to fight Tatum? Well, if fans are weary of fights that are over before they have an opportunity to even get drunk, I just need a body who can sustain verticality for three rounds. Yeah, but Homer's no boxer. He's just a freak. Tatum will fustigate him. Well, fustigation aside, Moe, you've got a choice. You can either sit here in the ladies' room with your faded memories, or you can take your last shot at the big time, and I can make it happen. Three rounds. That's all I ask. I gotta be honest with you, Homer. I didn't bring you up here to show you my new tar paper. You didn't? No. Homer, how would you like to be heavyweight champion of the world? Oh, sure. Great. All you gotta do is fight Drederick Tatum. It's this Saturday. Here's your parking pass. Oh, General. Who's Drederick Tatum, anyway? Is he another hobo? Uh, you know what? I think I'm gonna have to check on that. Well, I trust you, Moe. If you say I can beat this guy, then he doesn't stand a chance. Sorry, champ. It was Jerry. Champ, champ, do you feel remorse for your crime? Oh, yes. Believe me, my God. If I could turn back the clock on my mother's stare-pushing, I would certainly reconsider it. Drederick, what do you think of Homer Simpson? I think he's a good man. I like him. I got nothing against him, but I'm definitely gonna make orphans of his children. Uh, you know, they do have a mother, champ. Yes, but I would imagine that she would die of grief. Drederick? Over here. Mr. Tatum. Thank you, thank you, but the champ has no time for further queries. This parole hearing is over. Oh. Homer, why are they saying you're going to fight Drederick Tatum? Uh, well, I was gonna surprise you, but... Happy anniversary, baby. Have you lost your mind? Oh, come on. I'll make a fortune for one night's work. We could have all the things we always dreamed of. A snooty butler, carpeted carports, those blue cupcakes they sell sometimes. But you'll get killed. Marge, will you let me finish? Plug-in room deodorizers, front and rear spoilers for the car. Mom's right, Dad. The odds against you winning are a thousand to one. Well, I don't think it's that unlikely. Those are the odds they're giving in Vegas. All right. I think we've heard just about enough from Mr. Newspaper today. Society put Drederick Tatum away for his brutal crime, but he's paid his debt. And now, he's going to get revenge on Homer Simpson. That's your daddy. T-shirt. Get your T-shirt. Tell him where you've been by wearing a T-shirt. You'll be okay, Dad. Just make sure he hits you an even number of times so you don't end up with amnesia. Mo, I'm so glad I found you. Please, promise me you won't let Homer get hurt. Hey, hey, hey. I'm not the villain here, okay? If Homer gets killed in the ring tonight, it'll be because of your negative attitude, dare I say it. Listen to me. The instant that Homer's in any kind of danger, I want you to throw in this towel and stop the fight. All right, all right. I promise, okay? Thank you. Celebrities at ringside tonight. Star of the McBain action films and featured player in the Hollywood prostitution scandal, Rainier Wolfcastle. TV anchorman and Springfield Institution, Mr. Kent Brockman. This just in. Go to hell. From the world of organized crime, say hello to Anthony Fat Tony D'Amico and the ruler of events worldwide, title fights, the Super Bowl and the Nixon funeral. Ladies and gentlemen, the Batman. Oh, Christ. I gotta comb this side over. All right, Homer. I'm not gonna lie to you. There's a good chance you can beat Tatum, but you gotta visualize how you're gonna win, okay? Got you. A congenital heart defect has apparently failed Tatum moments before he could step into the ring. And now, please welcome back into decent society. Ladies and gentlemen, the heavyweight champion of the world, the irresistible force of Tatum, we have the immovable object. He's been called the brick hit house and is also known as the Southern Dandy, Homer Simpson. Your boy looks a little soft, Moe. You do remember our arrangement? Yeah, don't worry. He'll get you three rounds. Stupendous. Because if he goes down before that bell rings, your future's going with him. Okey-doke. Future down the crapper. Got you. Due to popular demand, we will forego our national anthem. And now, ladies and gentlemen, let's get ready to rumble. OK, Homer. Nothing to be worried about. Just... I've never seen Dad hit somebody like that before. What are you talking about? Isn't Dad the one in the black trunks? No. Uh-oh. What? What? What am I missing? What? And there's Tatum showboating for the crowd. Seconds in. That a boy, Homer. Keep dancing. Showing utter disdain for his opponent's abilities, Tatum is taking a short mid-round breather to converse with actor Charlie Sheen. You know what's great there is the sea bass. They do it blackened or sauteed. It's stupendous. OK, break it up. Break it up, you two. That cactus is right. I've only got one chance. I got to knock him out. He's getting a second wind. No, he's getting killed. He's gonna die on his feet. I can't watch this. I gotta get out of here. Somebody stop the fight. Looks like it's all over. Tatum wants to finish this with one punch. And here it comes. Has flown into the ring and is air-lifting him out. Ladies and gentlemen, whatever dignity remained in boxing is literally flying out the window. Are you an angel? Yes, Homer, I'm an angel. All us angels wear Farrah slacks. But you stopped the fight. Won't everyone be mad at you? Let them be mad. The only thing that matters to me is you're safe. Sorry. Pretty much. Lucius, would you do that for me? Absolutely I would. Now get in the van. You couldn't even give me one lousy round, Moe. You will always be a loser. Now take your check for $100,000 and get out of my sight. I don't need your stinking money. Homer, are you okay? I can't remember where we parked. That's all right. We'll just wait till everyone else leaves. I got your tooth, Dad. Not mine. Thank you, Moe. I know you gave up your dreams for Homer. Well, what are dreams, Madam Marge? I was able to stick up for a pal. Well, so long, Springfield. Where are you going? Oh, nowhere in particular. I just need some time to think. Hey, you give me that contraption thing!