Thanks for the transcript RobertB !

% The family is eating breakfast, as Homer searches in vain
% for a comic strip to read. He settles for the daily horoscope.

Homer: Oooh, my horoscope.
[reading] “Taurus: Today you will die.”
Marge: What?!!
Homer: [continuing] “… and you may get a compliment from
an attractive co-worker!” Lenny?
Lisa: [takes paper] It really says die?
That’s unusually specific for a horoscope.
Marge: [takes paper] Mmm. Maybe I better check mine.
[reads] “Today your husband will die.”
Homer: Oooh, scary newspaper. [takes the paper, and waves
it mockingly] Don’t hurt me horoscope. I’m afraid
… Ow! Paper cut! Paper cut!

% Homer leaves for work. As he backs out of the driveway,
% lightning strikes a tree, which just barely misses striking
% the front of the car. “Missed me!” Homer taunts. He drives
% past a work zone where men are demolishing a Planet Hollywood
% restaurant. The wrecking ball knocks down the planet above
% restaurant which falls on and destroys most of the car.
% “Stupid horoscope,” Homer says to himself, chuckling. Then a
% pick-axe comes through front windshield and imbeds itself in
% Homer’s forehead. Homer laughs and says, “Flupid bloroplope.”
%
% At the plant, Lenny compliments Homer on the rattlesnake
% biting his harm. Carl is concerned about the snake’s deadly
% venom, but Homer assures him the snake will give up after an
% hour or so.
%
% Back at home …

Homer: That horoscope was baloney. Nothing happened
except the pickaxe in my head, the rattlesnake
bite, and the testicle thing. What’s for desert?
Marge: No desert until you eat your broccoli. [Homer
takes some broccoli, chokes on it and dies]

[cut to a shot of Dr. Hibbert examining Homer's body]

Hibbert: Mm. Another broccoli-related death.
Marge: I thought broccoli was …
Hibbert: Oh, yes. one of the deadliest plants on earth.
Why, it tries to warn you itself with its terrible taste.

I think BA pulled this one out of his to-be-posted-when-I’m-out-of-ideas-or-too-tired bag.