Lisa: How are the southwestern pizza fingers? Moe:

Lisa: How are the southwestern pizza fingers?
Moe: They're, um...[reads] "awesomely outrageous".
Marge: Oh, these look good: guilt-free steakfish filets.
Moe: Nah, nah, let me level with you, Marge: that's just our name for
bottom-feeding suction eel. You don't want that.
Marge: Oh...
Moe: Why don't you try...Moe's hobo chicken chili. I start with the
best part -- the neck -- and then I add secret hobo spices.
Marge: Ooh. Tres bien.
Moe: Yeah.
[Ralph squirts Moe with a squirt gun and laughs]
Hey, what the hell are you doing, you little freak?
[Ralph starts bawling]
Moe: [apologetic] Ooh, sorry, kid, sorry. I'm not used to the
laughter of children. It cuts through me like a dentist drill.
But no, no, that was funny, that was funny taking away my dignity
like that, ha ha ha.
-- Moe, always appreciative of a good joke,
"Bart Sells His Soul"