Chalkboard: Everyone is tired of that Richard Gere story

Couch: The couch is filled with water. The Simpsons (with their butts on fire) rush in and sit down, extinguishing the flames.

Gun Shop Owner: Well, you'll probably want the accessory kit. Holster…
Homer: Oh, yeah.
Gun Shop Owner: Bandoleer.
Homer: Baby.
Gun Shop Owner: Silencer.
Homer: Mmm-hmm.
Gun Shop Owner: Loudener.
Homer: (drooling noise)
Gun Shop Owner: Speed-cocker.
Homer: Ooh, I like the sound of that.
Gun Shop Owner: And this is for shooting down police helicopters.
Homer: Oh, I don't need anything like that… (paranoid)…yet. Just give me my gun. (grabs for gun)

(The Simpsons eat from everything but the dinner plates which Bart and Homer shot at earlier)
Marge: Does anyone know where all my dinner plates went?
Bart: Um…
Homer: Um, you probably left them at work. On another topic, guess who was picked to host the next NRA meeting!
(Points gun to himself)
Marge: Homer, I told you this morning, no guns at the dinner table.
Homer: You said the breakfast table.
Marge: It's the same table!
Homer: Listen, if it'll make you feel any better, I'll put the safety on. (Homer attempts to put the safety on, but accidentally fires the gun. We see the bullet just nick Marge's shoulder in a picture of her hanging on a bulletin board)
Homer: Oh…I guess the safety was on. (He tries again, but again accidentally fires it, this time hitting the same picture of Marge square in the chest)
Homer: …I'd better just put it down.
(He sets the gun on the table. While it rests there, the gun fires itself, and the bullet ricochets off a pot, hitting a knife sitting in a brick of cheese. The knife sails through the air, and stabs the same picture of Marge right between the eyes)
Lisa: No offense Mom, but that was pretty cool.

Homer: (walking out of store to his car) Lousy big shot, thinks he's so big 'cause he's got a lot of guns, if he didn't have any guns I'd show him a thing or two… (at home, pacing the hallway in front of Lisa's bedroom) …let's see him walk into my store and then we'll see who's worried about five-day waiting periods…
Lisa: Dad…it's three A.M! Can't you mutter in your room?
Homer: Marge kicked me out.
Lisa: (groans) All right. Go ahead.
Homer: Pushy kids think they can tell me what to do in my house, Why, I tell you these parents these days they don't know how to rear children…

(The Mexican soccer team has the first possession of the ball and is cautiously kicking the ball around, setting up for a goal as the Portugal team stands there, awaiting the play to develop. The crowd quickly grows bored.)
Brockman (Obviously bored as he calls the actions): Halfback passes to the center. Back to the wing. Back to the center. Center holds it. Holds it.
(Rolls eyes)
Holds it…
Mexican Announcer (Excitedly): Halfback passes to center, back to wing, back to center, center holds it! Holds it! Holds it!