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Bart: Sun even shines on a dog's ass some days.
Greenie: You gettin' a dog?
Bart: Try acting like a father, shit-head.
Ollie: Come on, Dad. Don't you wanna live alone again?
Bart: Not as much as I don't wanna die alone.
Bart: If Gertie could see the shit you've been pulling.
Ollie: Gertie can't see anything, Dad. She's dead.
Bart: That's right, she is. But you aint. And neither is that kid.
Ollie: [
having just been asked to come to the bar with Gertie and Bart] No, that's OK, I'll stay here and do the dishes. I only cooked, why shouldn't I clean?
Bart: Suit yourself. Don't wash that pan, I got a nice layer of juice built up for the pork roll, and I don't want you scrubbing it off.
Ollie: That 'juice' is called grease, dad. It's bad for you. It clogs your arteries.
Bart: It's called 'juice'. And it greases your father's insides so he can better swallow the shit his son feeds him twice a year, when he can be bothered to come to visit him.
Bart: You know, you really had me scared for a moment there.
Ollie: Awww, who knew. All these years you were nursing a little stage fright!
Bart: Not that smart ass.