Smithers: Uck. My Mouth Tastes Like An Ashtray. [burps Up A Mouthful Of Cigarette Butts] [opens Bathroom Doo

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Smithers: Uck. My mouth tastes like an ashtray.
[burps up a mouthful of cigarette butts]
[opens bathroom door, sees someone in the shower]
[opens glass shower door]
Burns: [humming] Doo doo doo, doo doo, dee. [turns around] Smithers,
wait your turn. There's plenty of hot water for all.
Smithers: _weren't_ shot! [sighs] It was all a dream.
Burns: [turns off shower] That's right. The year is 1965, and you
and I are undercover detectives on the hot rod circuit. [puts
on helmet] Now, let's burn rubber, baby!
-- Smithers wakes up from his nightmare,
"Who Shot Mr. Burns? Part Two"