No way, Bart. If I lean over, I leave myself open to wedgies, wet willies, or even the dreaded rear-admiral!— Milhouse
Marge: (writing letter) Dear friends of the Simpson family. We had some sadness and some gladness this year. First, the sadness: our little cat Snowball was unexpectedly run over and went to kitty heaven. But we bought a new little cat Snowball II, so I guess life goes on. Speaking of live going on, Grandpa is still with us, feisty as ever. Maggie is walking by herself, Lisa got straight A's, and Bart... well, we love Bart.
Marge: All right, children, let me have those letters. I'll send them to Santa's workshop at the North Pole.
Bart: Oh please, there's only one fat guy that brings us presents and his name ain't Santa.
Marge: A Pony? Oh Lisa, you have asked for that for the past three years, and I keep telling you that Santa cant fit a pony in his sleigh. Can't you take a hint?
Marge: You will not be getting a tattoo for Christmas.
Homer: Yeah, if you want one, you'll have to pay for it out of your own allowance.
Marge: (in Bart's daydream) Oh, Bart that's so sweet. Its the best present a mother could get, and it makes you look so dangerous.
Homer: (buying a present for Maggie) It says its for dogs, but she cant read.
Barney: I got me a part time job working as a Santa down at the mall.
Homer: Wow, can I do that?
Barney: I dunno, they're pretty selective. *BELCH!*
Bart: Hey Santa, what's shakin' man?
Homer: (as Santa) What's your name Bart... ner... uh, little partner?
Bart: I'm Bart Simpson, who the hell are you?
Homer: I didn't get my bonus this year, but to keep the family missing out on Christmas, I'd do anything.
Bart: I'll say, Dad. You must really love us to sink so low.
Lisa: What Aunt Patty?
Patty: Oh nothing, dear. I'm just trashing your father.
Lisa: Well, I wish that you wouldn't. Because aside from the fact that he has the same frailties as all human beings, he's the only father I have. Therefore, he is my model of manhood, and my estimation of him will govern the prospects of my adult relationships. So I hope you beer in mind that any knock at him is a knock at me, and I am far to young to cartoon myself against such onslaughts.
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