Homer Simpson runs into the livingroom carrying a six pack of beer after hearing the violent commotion. He would have gotten there sooner, but he was busy making a sandwich.
HOMER: Leave the boy alone!
O.J.: (Angrily) Who you calling a boy? (Turns towards the camera) See, he's a racist. I bet he's a cop.
HOMER: I'm not a cop, I'm a new-clee-uh (nuclear) safety guy.
O.J.: You're lying! You're a racist cop trying to frame me, and I'll prove it!
O.J. scrambles past Homer towards the kitchen as if he was in the Super Bowl. He quickly returns with a donut in hand.
O.J.: If you're not a cop, you'll be able to resist this sprinkle-covered donut.
HOMER: (Dazed) MMMM, donut. (Saliva drips down the corner of his mouth. His taste buds ache with withdrawal pains) Must resist sweet, sweet donut.
Homer cracks open a beer and guzzles it down. He drinks one after the other until the six pack is gone.
HOMER: (Slurred speech) Must resist sweet, sweet...
As Homer gives into temptation and reaches out for sweet, sweet donut, he passes out like the drunk he is. Hours later, Homer wakes up to find O.J. staring at him.
O.J.: O.K., you're not a cop, but that doesn't mean you're not the killer. Why'd you do it? Why'd you kill Nicole... and that white guy.
HOMER: (Groggily) Where's the donut?
O.J.: I ate it.
O.J.: Dough? Someone paid you to kill them? Who was it, the Colombian drug dealers? Bill Gates? Who?
HOMER: No one paid me.
O.J.: You killed them for free? You're evil "and" stupid!
HOMER: Now hold on here! I'm not the killer! I wouldn't anyone... except the boy. Sometimes he makes me so mad... (He clutches an imaginary throat and squeezes the imaginary stuffing out of it)
O.J.: (Turns towards the camera) He's the killer! He's the killer! He just strangled an imaginary boy right in front of us! (Turns back to face Homer) You'd better get yourself a bad lawyer, because you're going to prison.