“Wilma,” says Fred. “You and she going to get married?”
“I don’t know,” says Homer.
“Why don’t you know?” asks Fred. “Doesn’t she want to get married?”
“Well, it isn’t Wilma’s fault,” says Homer. “She’s been swell about it.”
“Well, then it’s your fault,” says Fred.
“Yeah,” admits Homer. “I – I guess it is.”
Fred leans into Homer. “Will you do me a favor, Homer?”
“Sure, Fred,” says Homer. “What is it?”
“I’m a hot one for giving advice to the lovelorn,” says Fred. “But I’m telling you to go see Wilma – now – take her in your arms, kiss her, ask her to marry you, and then marry her! Tomorrow, if you can get a license that fast. And if you want anybody to stand up for you at your wedding, – there’s my bus -, so long, kid!” Fred hops on his bus.
“So long, Fred,” says Homer. He turns, and watches the bus drive away.
Later, Homer walks past Wilma’s house. The lights are on.