Marge: Bart, are you drinking whiskey?
Bart: [drunk] I'm troubled.
Marge: Bart!
Bart: I promise I'll stop tomorrow.
Marge: You'll stop right now!!!
[Marge chases Bart round the room. Bart pulls out draws and jumps over the bed in an attempt to slow Marge down. He holds the whiskey flask in his mouth and tilts his head while running, eventually collapsing]
Bart: I miss Flanders. There, I said it! [passes out]
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