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2.33swhere I will eat naught but burning-hot coals...
2.7sand drink naught but burning-hot cola.
2.47sWhere fiery demons will punch me in the back,
2.27swhere my soul will be chopped into confetti...
2.3sand strewn upon a parade of murderers and single mothers,
3.34swhere my tongue will be torn out by ravenous birds.
1.63s
0.37sBart did it!
2.14sThat Bart right there!
0.67sMilhouse!
2.1sMilhouse, you did the right thing.
1.83sBart, come with me for punishment.
1.83sYou too, snitchy.
2.84sI want you to clean every one of these organ pipes...
3.67sthat you have befouled with your popular music.
1.5s
2.47s
2.97s
2.67sYou shank! How could you tell on me?
3.34sWell, I didn't want hungry birds pecking my soul forever.