Hibbert: Don't Worry, Son: You'll Be Fine. This Boy's Appendix Is Inflamed And About To Burst, Which _will_ Make It Easier To Find Once I Get In There.

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Hibbert: Don't worry, son: you'll be fine. This boy's appendix is
inflamed and about to burst, which _will_ make it easier to
find once I get in there. [chuckles]
Homer: [watching from above] Man, these are primo seats. I could
_really_ go for a hot dog.
Marge: Homer! This is an operation.
Man: Hot dogs, get your hot dogs here!
Homer: Woo hoo!
Nick: OK, Bart, I will count to three, and you will be sound asleep.
One, two, three...out like a light!
Hibbert: Scalpel...?
Bart: [screaming] Aah!
Nick: Whoopsie, heh. Maybe if I fiddle with these knobs. [sniffs]
Hey, I smell gas...pleasant gas. [sighs] Night-night gas...
-- He forgot to say "Hi, everybody!",
"'Round Springfield"