Smithers: I've got to find a replacement who won't outshine me. Perhaps if I search the employee evaluations for the word incompetent. 714 names? Better be more specific. Lazy, clumsy, dim-witted, monstrously ugly. [the computer still displays 714 names] Ah, nuts to this. I'll just go get Homer Simpson.
Homer: I think Smithers picked me because of my motivational skills. Everyone always says they have to work a lot harder when I am around.
Lisa: You know, Dad, assisting Mr. Burns could give your career a real shot in the arm!
Marge: (just entering the dining room) You know, Homer, assisting Mr. Burns could give your career a real shot in the arm!
Lisa: Mom, I just said that!
Marge: Sorry! Next time, get your own darn corn!
Mr. Burns: Good Lord, Smithers! You look atrocious! I thought I ordered you to take a vacation.
Homer: Uh, Smithers already left, sir. I'm his replacement, Homer Simpson.
Mr. Burns: Simpson, eh? Very well, I will have my lunch. A single pillow of shredded wheat, some steamed toast, and a dodo egg.
Homer: But I think the dodo went extinct...
Mr. Burns: [interrupting] Get going! And answer those phones, install a computer system, and rotate my office so the window faces the hills!
[Mr. Burns is driving dangerously through town while learning to drive his car]
Mr. Burns: I can't believe it. [swerves to the right] All my life, I've avoided doing things for myself. [hits a fire hydrant] But I'm actually enjoying this. [hits a garbage can] Plus, I'm making incredible time. [honks the horn twice and drives on a lawn, narrowly avoiding two ladies] Beep! Beep! Out of my way, I'm a motorist.
Chief Wiggum: Uh, that's some nice reckless driving, Mr. B!
Mr. Burns: No, Homer, You've already done more for me than any man. Your brutal attack forced me to fend for myself. I realize now that being waited on hand and foot is Okay for your average Joe, but it's not for me.
[Smithers asks Homer to transfer the call to Mr. Burns - his mother is on the line. Homer, however, hits the Disconnect button, forcing him to impersonate Mrs. Burns very badly.]
Mr. Burns: Ahoy-hoy?
Homer: Hello, Mr. Burns? This is your mother!
Mr. Burns: Gahhhhhh. Oh, hello, Mater! Um, sorry about pulling the plug on you and all, who could have known you'd pull through and live for another five decades? Oh, is my face red!
Smithers: (exasperated, but trying to keep his voice down) Mrs. Burns is 122 years old, so try to sound more desiccated! And she doesn't call her son Mr. Burns!
Homer: Son, this is Mrs. Burns! I just called to say I don't love you! You are a bad son, Monty... [Homer is interrupted by Mr. Burns, who is watching from behind]
Homer: (to Mr. Burns) Here are your messages: You have thirty minutes to move your car, you have ten minutes, your car has been impounded, your car has been crushed into a cube, you have thirty minutes to move your cube. (the phone rings) Y'ello, Mr. Burns's office.