I love to see you smile

Hi, Marge speaking. I wanna tell you about my visit to the church Saturday night.

Those Unitarians sure do know their food.  They served up some scrumptious chili. Here in Springfield, we do love our meat, but I gotta say that the vegan and vegetarian gave a little extra oomph to my beehive. And coming from one who’s been called a hottie—ahem, not bragging, just a fact—I know hot. In fact, the supremely hot chili had quite a peculiar effect on me.  The spice pinked up my skin to the point that it completely obliterated my nice, normally yellow hue.

So, anyway, the crowd was so thick that I had to track Homer down with my bullhorn; no one would’ve heard my sweet voice without it. When I asked him if he noticed anything different about me, he had to confess, “Doh!” Men. And when I explained that I wasn’t wearing my green sheath because he spilled beer on it, you know what he had the nerve to say? “Waste of a good beer.”

There I was in my lovely black, glittery, one-shouldered, yard-sale dress with my hair newly styled to the greatest heights of blue perfection, and all he could think about was his beer—well, until he heard mention of a possible wardrobe malfunction. Then he said, “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for that.” There may be hope for him yet.

As I looked over the crowd, I spotted Steve, the guy from Sector 17 who works with Homer. I said, “Nice guy, we should invite him over sometime.” Homer was noncommittal. I’m thinking he was jealous.

I also saw Barbara and Gary Hitt there. They’ve sent me so many fan letters through the years that I’ve papered my bathroom wall with them. (Thanks for your devotion.)

I have to say that I relished the opportunity of singing a love song to Homer. (Click to see video!) The poor man works so hard at the factory, and Bart does so try his nerves. And, needless to say, Homer’s none too fond of Lisa’s low bluesy tunes on her saxophone, either.

“What would I do if I didn’t have you? Oh, I love to see you smile. Mmmmmm, I love to see you smile. 

 

I mean that sincerely, Homer.”

 

(And to my real-life Homer: ditto!)