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Mr. Burns' assistant, Waylon Smithers, nearly works himself into a nervous breakdown and is forced to go on a vacation. Fearing that whoever fills in for him in his absence might replace him permanently, Smithers places Homer Simpson in the job, figuring that there's no way the plant's worst employee could possibly be a threat, but when Homer teaches Mr. Burns a lesson in being self-sufficient by punching him, Burns fires both Homer and Smithers.
Smithers: (chuckles) Perfect. When I give the signal, you transfer the call to Mr. Burns. After she tears into him I'll rush in and save the day.
Homer: Got it. (pushes speaker) I'm transferring a call in to you, Mr. Burns.
Mr. Burns: (on intercom) No problemo!
Homer: (hesitating between the four buttons) Uh…Ooh…Uh…(pushes the button to disconnect the call)
(on hearing the dial tone) Uh-oh.
Mr. Burns: (from his office) Ahoy-hoy? Hoy?
Homer: (attempting to sound elderly) …Hello? Mr. Burns? This is your mother.
[bSmithers: (whispering) No…
Mr. Burns: Urg…Oh, hello mater. Um… sorry about pulling the plug on you and all, uh…who could've known you'll pull through and…live…for another 5 decades? Ohh, is my face red!
Smithers: (whispers to Homer) Mrs. Burns is 122 years old, so try to sound more desiccated. And she does not call her son "Mr. Burns"!
Homer: (continues the façade) Son, this is Mrs. Burns. I just called to say, I don't love you! You are a bad son Monte…
Mr. Burns: (appearing behind Homer) So…
Mr. Burns: Impersonate my mother, will you? And you Smithers, you must have put him up to it. I'm glad I fired you.
Homer: Ya really blew it this time, Smithers.
Bart: Look alive, Simpson, I'm not paying you to goldbrick.
Homer: (wakes up) Uh… Yes, sir.
Bart: Now get cracking on my long division, and don't forget to show your work, Simpson.
Homer: I'll have it on your desk tomorrow morning, sir.
Lisa: Bart, leave Simpson alone! … Simpson, I need a ride to the library.
Homer: Yes, sir.
Marge: Kids, stop exploiting your father. Homie, why don't you lie down and relax?
Homer: No time, Marge. I think Mr. Burns wants me to do some long division.
Marge: Simpson, lie down!… Sorry, but you need a good night's rest.
Mr. Burns: I'll have my lunch now. A single pillow of Shredded Wheat, some steamed toast, and a dodo egg.
Homer: But I think the dodo went extinct…
Mr. Burns: Get going! And answer those phones, install the computer system, and rotate my office so the window faces the hills.
Homer: (taking notes) Uh-huh, uh-huh. Okay. Um, can you repeat the part of the stuff where you said all about uuhhh, things. Uhh… the things.
Smithers: I've got to find a replacement that wont outshine me. Perhaps if I search the employee evaluations for the word 'incompetent'. Seven hundred fourteen names! Huh, better be more specific. Lazy, clumsy, dimwitted, and monsterously ugly. (714 matches). Ah nuts to this, I'll just go get Homer Simpson.