(Bell rings) (Whistle blows) (Plays the Blues) Captions were made with the support of NZ On Air. Able 2018 I busted my hump all week. Stupid grass! Supposed to be the boy's job. Now, now, Homer Bart's busy working on his science project. You heard the lady, Homer so please mow quietly. Genius at work. 1:00, still just a potato. Hey there, neighbour. The Lord's certainly given us a beautiful day, huh? Hello, Flanders. Doing yard work, huh? Who told? Marge, beer me. Say, Simpson I've got some time-released granules that will get rid of that crabgrass in half a jif. Crabgrass? What are you talking about? Where? Well, there... and there's a big patch over there. There's nothing wrong with crabgrass. It just has a bad name. Everyone would love it if it had a cute name like "elfgrass." Well, you may be right. Marge, where's the Duff? Oh, we're all out, Homer. D-ohhh! Want some juice? Don't toy with me, woman. I couldn't help overhearing, Simpson. I've got some ice-cold suds in the rumpus room if you'd like to join me. OK, what the heck? I've earned a little break. Oh, holy moley. It's beautiful. Say, that's right. This is your first visit to the Flanders homestead. Well, we've only been neighbours... what? Eight years. There's my little popcorn ball. Kissy-kissy. Oh, hello, Sponge Cake. I thought you boys might be hungry so I whipped up some sandwiches. Ain't she wonderful, Simpson? Aren't we forgetting something? Oh, your beer. Is draft OK? Just put in the tap last week. Here's a tasty little lager that came all the way from Holland. Well, beggars can't be choosy. (Burps) Dad, thanks for helping with my science project. Oh, my pleasure, study buddy. I got the best dad in the whole world. You know how that embarrasses me. I know. Toodley-doodley. Kids can be a trial sometimes. All right, knock it off! Knock what off, Simpson? You've been rubbing my nose in it since I got here. Your family is better than my family. Your beer comes from farther away than mine. You all like each other. Your wife's butt is higher than my wife's butt. You make me sick! Simpson, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I hope you understand. I wouldn't stay on a bet! One for the road. (Moans) Homey, quit tossing. Sorry, Marge. It's just that I'm still steamed up about that jerk Flanders. Lousy, know-it-all, show-off. What exactly did he say? Get this. He said... no, he said... it wasn't so much what he said it was how he said it. How did he say it? Well, he... Was he angry? No. Was he rude? It wasn't how he said it but the message was loud and clear. Our family stinks! Homer, I'm your best friend but I've never seen him be anything but a perfect neighbour. Oh, he's perfect now, is he? Well, he's not perfect, but he is very... No, don't backpedal. You were right the first time. He's perfect... perfect in every way. I'm going to take a walk to calm down. I got a little excited. I'm not perfect... like Ned Flanders. Oh, no. Neddy, you're tossing. What's the matter? I feel terrible. Sometimes I forget that we have things better than the Simpsons. I drag him over here for a few beers. You can't blame him for erupting. Then I turn into a snarling beast. Talk about flunking the old turn-the-other-cheek test. Ned, maybe I'm not the one you should be talking to. You're right. Hello, Reverend Lovejoy? No, this is Mrs Lovejoy. Just a minute. Honey, honey, wake up. It sounds like Ned Flanders is having some sort of crisis. Oh, probably stepped on a worm. Hello, Ned. Reverend, I'm sorry to bother you but I threw a man out of my house today. I feel like I violated Matthew 19:19. Huh? "Love thy neighbour." Oh, oh. Matthew 19:19, right. Well, you know, Ned, the good Book says "a gentle answer turneth away wrath." A gentle answer? Well, that is a Jim-dandy idea. Bless you, Reverend. "Dear neighbour..." Flanders! Ah! I don't blame you for being upset. I just wanted to give you this letter. I'll leave now. "Dear neighbour... "...you are my brother. "I love you. "...and yet I feel a great sadness in my bosom." Bosom. Wait, wait, there's more. That's terrible. A man opens his heart, and you make fun of him. "...Neighbours forever." Oh, no. "Ned Flanders." What a sap. Read the bosom part again, Dad. Now just a minute! Bosom. Bart! I wish this family was as close as the Flanders. OK, all right. She's right. Let's do something together. What does everyone say to some miniature golf followed by a round of frosty chocolate milk shakes? All right. Hmm, I was going to wash my hair. And I'm studying for the math fair. If I win, I'll get a new protractor. Too bad we don't live on a farm. Let's go, boy. Fore! (Laughs) But I got it in the middle. That was a practice shot. Play where it lays, Homer. Hey, there's Homer Simpson. What a perfect opportunity to follow up on my letter. Give up, Homeboy. There's a six-stroke limit. I can still make this for five. Come on, baby, please, please, go in, please. D-ohhh! Hi, Simpson. Having fun? Flanders, what are you doing here? Just playing mini-golf with the Todd-meister. Hi, Bart. Get bent. Now that we're friends again, let's make a foursome. That sounds great. This will be fun. You looked like you were having trouble. That shot is impossible! Jack Nicholson himself couldn't make it. It is difficult, Mr Simpson. The best strategy is to hug the rail it won't go in but you set yourself up for an easy deuce. Oh, well it went in. Good shot, Toddski. Luck. Bart: Final score, Bart 41 Homer, let's see... six plus six plus six plus six plus six... Never mind. Hey, look. Wow! First prize, $50. Wow! Free balloons for everyone who enters. So my little Bartly, thinking of entering? Yeah, he's entering and he's going to win, aren't you? I guess it's possible. I hope you're not pressuring the boy. My Todd's awfully good. Oh, yeah? I think the fruit of my loins can beat the fruit of your loins any day. Come on, boy. But, Dad, I've never won anything in my life. Son, this is the only time I'll ever say this. It is not OK to lose. Finally, the kitchen. Something light. Like... Okarito. Okarito. Goes well with Alexandra. Oh, look. Whoa, pink. Or... Hot Water Beach. Very relaxing. Pinky, blue. It's not very kitchen-y. But it is pretty... nursery. Hmm. Nursery? Or we could go Rangitikei River. (GASPS) Oh! (LAUGHS) You little beauty! So, the nursery. (BASSY DUB MUSIC PLAYS) (BOTTLES CLINK) Ae. Imagine if Jono kooks it on his way home. Who would get us through Mad Mick's to Boneyards? Far. Boneyards. Sebastian ` he knows everyone. Micky boy! Rack off! Yeah, OK. Ha! Jono's brother? Cain the Mane! (BOTH LAUGH) Whoo! (BOTH LAUGH) The Nek Minnit? (HUMS) # Do, do, do! # ECHOES: Jason Gunn? Hey, Mickity Mickness! Huh? (BOTH GRUNT) (CRICKETS CHIRP) Let's get him, bro. Yep. Jono! (WAVES CRASH) Come on, ow. * Stay, stay. Good dog. Keep your head down. Not you. I'm talking to the boy. Keep your head down. Follow through. That didn't work. This time, move your head and don't follow through. Oh, man. (Sighs) What are you doing? That putter is to you what a bat is to a baseball player. What a violin is to the... the guy... the violin guy. Give your putter a name. What? Come on. Give it a name. Mr Putter. You want to try a little harder? Give it a girl's name. Mom. Your putter is Charlene. Why? It just is, that's why. Now this is a picture of your enemy Todd Flanders. Every day, I want you to spend 15 minutes staring at it and concentrating on how much you hate him and how glorious it will be when you and Charlene annihilate him. Who's Charlene? I'll show you who Charlene is. Now start hating. (Growls) Hi, Bart. Homer, I couldn't help overhearing you warp Bart's mind. And? You're making too big a deal over this silly golf tournament. This is our big chance to show up the Flanderses. I'm sure it is but why do we want to? Sometimes the only way you can feel good is by making someone else look bad and I'm tired of making other people feel good. Hmm. (Groans) Hi, Bart. What are you doing? Who are those chess guys that don't matter? A black-headed bishop is of little value but I think you mean a pawn. Right. I am a pawn. It's times like this that I'm thankful dad has little to no interest in almost everything I do. Bart, I think I can help you. Our journey begins here. Hi, Lisa. Hi, Mrs Norton. Hi, Lisa. Hi, Ralph. Hi, Lisa. Hi, gang. OK, Bart, this is the card catalogue. Let's see. Golf. Anecdotes, Eisenhower and... profession, humour, Japanese obsession with... ah, here it is. Putting. And finally the most important book-- the Tao-te Ching by Lao-Tzu. We can't afford all these books. We're borrowing them. Oh. Gotcha. Lisa: Shut off the logical part of your mind. Bart: OK. Embrace nothingness. You got it. Become like an uncarved stone. Done. You're just pretending. True. It's very frustrating. I'll bet. Bart, I have a riddle for you. What's the sound of one hand clapping? Piece of cake. Bart, it's a 3,000-year-old riddle with no answer. It clears your mind of conscious thought. No answer? Lisa, listen up. Let's try another one. If a tree falls and no one's around does it make a sound? Absolutely. (Makes crashing noises) But Bart, how can sound exist if there's no one there to hear it? Whoo! It is time. The basis of this game seems to be simple geometry. All you have to do is hit the ball here. I can't believe it. You found a practical use for geometry. Bart, what are you doing? Get down before the neighbours see... Hey, Simpson. Flanders, I don't care what this looks like. Bart will mop the floor with your son's butt. May the best man win. "May the best man win." The mating call of the loser. Just a minute. My son has a very good chance. Yeah? Want to bet? Yeah, well, I'm not a betting man. (Makes clucking sounds) Oh, I'm a chicken, am I? That's right. How's this for a wager? A batch of your wife's delicious blueberry muffins against one of my wife's homemade wind chimes. Are you afraid to make a real bet? No, I just... (Clucks) You know, Simpson you're annoying me. How about this, henny penny? If Bart wins tomorrow, you have to mow my lawn. All right, and if Todd wins, you have to mow my lawn and do a decent job of it for a change. Better yet, you have to mow my lawn in your wife's Sunday dress. You have yourself a bet, you... Jackaninny. Read that back to me, Marge. "The father of the loser mows the lawn..." Just a minute. Loser is a harsh word. Couldn't we say the boy who doesn't win? Oh, man. Fine. "The father of the boy who doesn't win has to mow the lawn in his wife's Sunday dress." I suppose you both have to sign this. I hope blood won't be necessary. I'm game if you are, Flanders. (Sighs) Good gravy, what have I done? Keep your left arm straight. Rotate your shoulders. Dad! Dad! Look, son, all I'm asking is that you try. OK, I'll try. Anybody can try. I want you to win. (Screams) Homer? Give me your honest opinion. This or this? * Ahhh! Good morning, son. Today's the big tournament. You'd better win. Dad! See you downstairs, boy. Heh, heh, heh. That crazy Marmaduke. Eighth hole. Aim for the tentacle. 12th Hole. Off the tombstone. Nirvana. A state of bliss attained through the self. A lumberjack's breakfast for my little golfer. Bart is on a strict diet of complex carbohydrates. Steak will make him logy. Well, what won't make him logy? Oatmeal. Oatmeal?! Oats are what a thoroughbred eats before he or she wins the Kentucky Derby. News flash, Lisa. Bart is not a horse. Eat your steak. Announcer: Good afternoon, everybody and welcome to the finale of what has already been a stirring afternoon of miniature golf. The cream has risen. We approach the championship with two warriors remaining-- the heretofore unknown Bart Simpson and Todd Flanders the most skilled ten-year-old to take back the blade. Bart, having never received any words of encouragement I'm not sure how they're supposed to sound but here goes. I believe in you. Thanks, man. It's no use praying. I already did the same thing and we can't both win. Simpson, we were praying that no one gets hurt. Oh, well, Flanders, it doesn't matter. This time tomorrow you'll be wearing heels. No, you will. Afraid not, infinity. Afraid so, infinity plus one. D-ohhh! Announcer: Young Flanders has the honour and will tee off first. It's got a chance. Yes, sir. Oh, man. Tree falling in the woods. Tree falling in... Announcer: And the battle is well and truly joined. Whoo-hoo-hoo! Mercy is for the weak, Todd! Yay! Yay! D-ohhh! Announcer: Look up "courage" in the dictionary and one might come upon a photo of these two gladiators. They approach the final hole deadlocked at eight strokes under par. One man will triumph. He will drink champagne while his opponent tastes bitter defeat. It's OK, son. You can recover. Come on, Bart. Remember what Vince Lombardi said-- if you lose, you're out of the family. Homer! (Gasps) (Gasps) (Gasps) Whew! This sort of pressure can unhinge even the steeliest of competitors. This is pretty tense, isn't it, Todd? Yeah. My knees are shaking I got butterflies in my stomach but I guess this builds character. Who wants to build character? Let's quit. OK. We decided we're equally good. Call it a draw, man. Hmm. Hmm. Announcer: Highly irregular. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a draw. A draw? Forgive an old Brit for crying but this is the most stirring display of gallantry and sportsmanship since Mountbatten gave Egypt back to the Punjabs. Put her there, man. Yeah, all right. Well, Homer our kids showed us something. By working together, we can both be winners. Thank heaven, neither of us has to go through with that silly wager. Oh, so you're going to welch on our bet?! But neither boy lost. I got it in writing. "The father of the boy who doesn't win has to mow the lawn in his wife's Sunday dress." You have to do it too. It's a small price to pay to see you humiliate yourself. (Whistles, jeers and laughter) Hmm, my best dress. Someday I'll be describing this to a psychiatrist. Listen to them laughing. This is so humiliating. I'll never live this down. Damn Flanders. You know, Simpson, I feel kind of silly but what the hay? Reminds me of fraternity days. D-ohhh! Oh, my God! He's enjoying it. Captioned by the Caption Center WGBH Educational Foundation. www.able.co.nz Captions were made with the support of NZ On Air. Able 2018