Waylon Smithers Quotes (Page 4)
Burns: Smithers, I've been thinking. Is it wrong to cheat to win a million-dollar bet?
Smithers: Yes, sir.
Burns: [coldly] Let me rephrase that. Is it wrong if I cheat to win a million-dollar bet?
Smithers: No, sir. Who would you like killed?
Mr. Burns: Well Smithers, I guess there's nothing left to do but kiss my sorry butt good-bye.
Smithers: May I, sir?
Mr. Burns: Ewww...
Voice: Warning... Problem in Sector 7-G.
Mr. Burns: 7-G? Good God! Who's the safety inspector there?
Smithers: Homer Simpson, sir.
Mr. Burns: Simpson, eh? Good man? Intelligent?
Smithers: Actually, sir, he was hired under Project Bootstrap.
Mr. Burns: [sarcastically] Thank you, President Ford.
Mr. Burns: Oh, it's no use! Smithers, open this can for me!
Smithers: Okay, but you softened it up for me sir.
Mr. Burns: [Reads Letter] Hold it Smithers! I'll open the can!
Smithers: But How?
Mr. Burns: To The Mall! I'll explain on the way!
Dr. Hibbert: At this point our only hope is a transfusion.
Smithers: How long does it take to sterilize a needle?
Dr. Hibbert: A few seconds.
Smithers: Oh, skip it! [tears shirt and jacket, exposing left arm] Just leave me enough to get home.
Dr. Hibbert: I'm afraid it's not that easy. His blood type is Double O-Negative, it's quite rare.
Smithers: But, I'm B-positive, damn this common gutter blood in my veins!:
Mr. Burns: Rin-go?
Smithers: He was the drummer for a rock and roll combo called the Beatles.
Burns: Beatles, eh? Oh yes, I seem to remember their off-key caterwauling on the old Sullivan Show. What was Ed thinking?
Mr. Burns: Excellent. Once again the wheel has turned and Dame Fortune has hugged Montgomery Burns to her sweet, perfumed bosom. Somebody up there likes me, Smithers.
Smithers: Somebody down here likes you too.
Burns: Shut Up!
Mr. Burns: I can picture it now. A screen door rusting off its filthy hinges, mangy dogs staggering about, looking vainly for a place to die.
Smithers: Permission to speak frankly, sir.
Burns: Permission granted!
Smithers: Well, you are quite wealthy.
Burns: Thank you, Smithers! Your candor is most refreshing.
Smithers: No, no. I mean, why don't you pay for the fight, yourself.
Burns: Ah, Smithers, the big title fight is one of the rare occasions I savor the sights, the sounds, and, oh yes [sniffing], the smells of other men.
Smithers: You haven't lost the common touch, Sir.
Smithers: I think the boy is hurt.
Burns: Oh for crying out loud, just give him a nickel and let's get going.
Mr. Burns: Ironic, isn't it Smithers. This anonymous clan of slack-jawed troglodytes has cost me the election, and yet if I were to have them killed, I would be the one to go to jail. That's democracy for you!
Smithers: You are noble and poetic in defeat, sir.