Original subtitles

(WHOOSHING)

Planet Express Discount Prisoner Transfer at your service.

Take a good look, Dr. Brutal off.

This prison is where you'll be spending your 300-year sentence.

Yeah, until you're defrosted and wake up refreshed,

unaware of any time having passed.

(STEAM HISSES) (EXCLAIMS)

He heard you!

Oh, please. It's probably just the carbonite thawing slightly.

Take him down to processing while I stay here and get hooted at.

Ooh, yeah, baby!

Oh, stop.

Fry, look!

That's Silicon Red, the universe's greatest folk singer!

There's your wallet, your guitar, and your gun.

You're free to go.

Ah! Still cocked.

So, he's a folk singer. So what?

So what?

Have you forgotten my lifelong dream of being a folk singer?

Because I sure have until right now.

Silicon Red! Silicon Red! (PANTING)

Hey, I have a lifelong dream, too.

Of not being left alone with a frozen super-villain.

(STEAM HISSES) (EXCLAIMS)

Don't try anything, Dr. Brutal off! I know karate.

(EXCLAIMS FEARFULLY)

(GUITAR STRUMMING)

(SINGING) Then I shot him and stabbed him and stole all his gold

And [ tried on his face while his body turned cold

Lovely. Just lovely.

New topic. Can I have your autograph,

and also you tell me everything you know about folk singing,

and I'll take your guitar, too?

Old Salmonella? Son, I ought to kill you for asking.

We met doing hard time on a Mississippi chain gang.

And she'd been with me through 30-odd convictions.

Thirty? You must be quite a bungling lowlife.

Anyhow, about the guitar.

(GUN COCKS)

Aw, come on! I can't be a famous folk singer without a cool guitar.

Can I at least get a photo?

And before you answer that... (CAMERA CLICKS)

(CHUCKLING)

Now I'll just have someone duplicate your guitar.

Thanks, sucker.

(LAUGHS) You're the sucker, sucker.

See, with all Salmonella and me been through,

her sound is unique.

All your fancy technology will never be able to copy this guitar.

Using my fancy technology, I can make an exact copy of this guitar.

Tell me, Dr. Beeler. Will I need to threaten you?

Not at all.

You see, nowadays we can take a unique and beautiful object,

and easily reduce it to a formula for mass production.

I call the process "science."

I'll just need to locate that guitar image on your file system.

(GIGGLING) (ELECTRONIC CHIMING)

Whoa, that's a lot of porn. Where'd you store the guitar picture?

I don't know. I mainly hang out in here.

Ah-ha! Your folk singing folder.

I'll just double-kick on that. (GRUNTS)

Got it.

Now I'll convert that guitar image to a wire-frame model.

There, like so.

And send it wirelessly to my 3-D printer.

(BEEPING)

(HIGH-PITCHED BEEPING)

By laying down layer after layer of nano-plastic,

it can turn your wildest dreams into ordinary reality.

Witchcraft! Sorcerer!

Neat.

So, how long will it take?

Four or five hours.

Shall we adjourn to the porn folder?

I call my new guitar Bender Mae

because Bender may be the greatest folk singer of all time!

It looks pretty authentic.

You bet it's authentic. See this scratch?

I tell people she got it while I was doing hard time

with a New Hampshire chain gang.

FRY: I have a scratch, too.

From where Dr. Brutal off slashed me with his finger knives,

right after he thawed out of his carbonite,

and right before he froze me in his carbonite

because you deserted me.

(GROANS)

You're always getting frozen in stuff. It's your thing, man.

Bender, you're not a folk singer just 'cause you have a guitar.

And a flannel shirt.

I claim I won it in a knife fight at J. Crew.

It must be interesting to win a knife fight.

I wouldn't know.

The point is, do you even know any actual folk songs?

Pfft! Actual folk songs are all public domain.

Where's the money in that? I'll just make up my own.

But, robot, you can't just make up folk songs

like you can a medical diploma.

They have to come from the heart.

Wrong again, ZOIDBERG.

While you were yakking, I downloaded

every folk song in the universe

and analyzed them.

There are only a few basic patterns.

For example, 36% of all folk-song heroes work on a railroad

and are named "Big" something.

Next slide, please.

75% of these big railroad men have bad-hearted women

who done them wrong, usually with a smooth-talking rambler.

There's a lot more, but in the end,

somebody kills somebody... Blah, blah, blah.

(SINGING) Somebody kills somebody Blah, blah, blah

Catchy!

Not what I meant, but don't perform it without my permission!

Anyway,

using this simple formula, I can generate

as many hit folk songs as I want.

All I need is an audience.

And that's where Silicon Red comes in.

(COUGHING)

Man, all this corncob pipe smoke is irritating my stab wounds.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm proud to present,

fresh from another down-home authentic prison term,

the universe's greatest folk singer,

Silicon Red!

(APPLAUSE)

Thank you.

(STRUMS GUITAR)

Silicon Red, everyone.

(SILICON RED GRUNTS)

I'm Rambling' Rodriguez, the new greatest folk singer ever.

And I'm gonna sing my new masterpiece,

The Ballad of Me, Rambling' Rodriguez.

(SINGING) Well

My bad-hearted woman loved a smooth-talking gambler

So I ran him over with my train

Lord, Lord Yes, I ran him over with my train!

That name again is Rambling' Rodriguez.

(ALL BOOING)

Why are they booing me, Silicon?

"Cause your song was insincere, boy.

Now, get out and don't come back

till you've lived a life worth singing about.

Yes, sir.

And don't go to prison. That's my shtick!

I failed at my lifelong dream again.

How can I be so bad at everything I try, and still be so great?

Bender, you have a lovely baritone,

and you sure can strum that plastic guitar.

But you can't write a real folk song

about experiences you haven't had.

Yeah, you should write a song about a heartless robot

who leaves his best friend to be murdered.

Look, Leela, I'd love to write about my own experiences...

The heartless robot is Bender. The best friend is me.

How can you people be so blind?

But I've never picked cotton or been on top of Old Smokey

or worked on anything all the livelong day, let alone a railroad.

Then go live among the railroad men, why not?

You'll come to understand them,

just as I now understand the ape-men of Earth.

As stupid as Zoidberg's idea is, it's brilliant when I have it.

I'm off to the railroad to become a folk singer.

(UPBEAT FOLK MUSIC PLAYING)

(SCATTING)

Uh... I'm looking for the wrong side of the tracks.

Then you've come to the right side of the tracks.

Have a seat, stranger.

My name's Bender Rodriguez

and I want to learn the railroading business.

Big Caboose.

I'm a steel-driving man working the trans-universal line.

Wow, you've had the exact experiences I want to steal for my song.

Oh, heck, I'm nothing special.

Just a down-home robot with a big old hammer.

Hammer, that should be easy to rhyme.

You done time in the slammer?

Uh, nope.

Been to Alabama? Sorry.

How's your grammar?

Praiseworthy.

Bender, meet Fast Frank Brogan.

Daredevil engineer dies in the crash of Old '88.

Dandy Jim and Gus.

Gentlemen hobos with a story to tell.

I once got drunk and ate my big toe.

Can't say I miss it.

And good old Cookie,

the crusty comically inept geological surveyor.

Jiggers! I dropped my sextant in the stew.

(HORN BLARING)

(SINGING) Been up north

(ALL GRUNT)

Been down south

(ALL GRUNT)

Got a real weak back

(ALL GRUNT)

I got a real big mouth

(ALL GRUNT)

So while Bender goofs off at some railroad camp,

I have to deliver dynamite to a railroad camp myself.

And it's the same railroad camp.

I mean, the irony is palpable.

Oops!

Whoopsie!

My bad.

Dibs on the toes.

(STRUMS OFF TUNE)

So how's it going with the real-world experience?

Have you found a railroad man to write a song about?

Yep, my good friend Big Something here.

Caboose.

I'm a steel-driving man, and there ain't much more to say about me.

Not till now there wasn't.

(SINGING) Well, Big Caboose was a steel-driving' son of a gun

Till a bad-hearted woman he spied

But, Bender, I never spied no bad-hearted woman.

In my song you did, a temptress named, I don't know, Jezebel.

Wow, creativity's hard work.

(SLURPING NOISILY)

Ah!

You know my favorite part of your song?

The part where it ended. (LAUGHS)

Then settle in, 'cause that's about a half hour from now.

(SINGING) Well, Jezebel's heart did wander

When she saw that rambling' man

He was tall and dark and shiny

And a native Mexican

That sleazy rambler sounds an awful lot like you, Bender.

Hey, thanks for noticing.

Just for that, I'm gonna slip you into the 57th verse.

You can be my best friend who abandons me when I need you.

Now, that's a verse we can all enjoy.

(SINGING) Well, Rodriguez ran to his best friend

Said, "Help me or I'll surely be killed"

Fry laughed and he said, "You deserted me once

"Now it's your turn to feel the chill Lord, Lord

"Now it's your turn to feel the chill”

You've accurately portrayed the nature of my grievance.

(SINGING) Big Caboose went looking' for Rodriguez

Straight to New New York town

He cried...

Bender, guess what.

I met a fabulous girl and we're engaged to be hitched.

That's great, Caboose.

Come on in and set a spell.

No time. I got someplace to be.

See you soon, honey bunch.

Okay, dumpling.

My man's gone! Gone!

Oh! I'm so lonely and easy.

Ooh!

(BOTH GIGGLING)

BENDER: Whoo! Whoo! (LAUGHS)

Oh, yeah. This is definitely going in the song.

(SINGING) He cried, "Rambler, you slept with my Jezebel”

Hey, what's your name, anyhow?

Jezebel.

Oh, good, I won't have to change any words.

(YAWNING)

Yeah, you're right. It's getting late. I'll get your coat.

(COCKS GUN)

Oh. Hey, Big Caboose. What are you doing here on Earth?

I'm here for to see Rambling' Rodriguez.

Well, he's at the railroad camp.

I know,

but some strange force drew me to New New York town.

(SINGING) That rambler slept with my Jezebel

Now I'm coming' for to shoot him down Lord, Lord

Coming' for to shoot him down

Guess I'll go back to the railroad camp now.

That's weird, he sounded a lot like Bender's folk song.

Not a lot like Bender's folk song,

exactly like, et cetera, et cetera.

His song is coming true somehow.

Oh, my God, reality is infringing Bender's copyright.

(SINGING) I'm coming' for to shoot you down

No, wait.

I'm com in" for to run you down

With a train

Get it?

(ELECTRONIC BEEPING)

(BEEPING)

It's over, Jezebel. Grab your things and get out.

I didn't bring any things.

That's what I like best about you, baby.

(EXCLAIMING)

Rambler, you slept with my Jezebel,

and I'm coming' for to run you down, Lord, Lord.

(SINGING) I'm coming' for to run you down

(WHIMPERING)

(TRAIN HONKING)

Fry, help, let me in.

(YAWNING)

Bender? What are you doing? It's 3:00 a.m.

I don't care if it's 3:00 p.m. Open up and hide me!

I don't think so, Bender.

You deserted me once, and now it's your turn to, quote, "feel the chill." Ha!

(TRAIN CHUGGING)

(SCREAMING)

(BEEPING)

Breaker, breaker.

Hola.

(PANTING) Professor, help.

The hero of my folk song tried to run me down,

and Fry refused to save me.

That doesn't sound like me.

Fry?

But you just... I'll figure it out later.

But first, I'll kill you!

Bender, stop. We've been trying to warn you all night.

You didn't answer your cell phone telephone,

so the Professor tried his CB.

Uh, scratch that, Rubber Turkey.

We got a 20 on the tin man. Toodle-o00.

But Fry betrayed me at our apartment!

(GAGGING)

Just like in your folk song.

Somehow everything you sang about is happening in real life.

(FRY COUGHS) Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Are you saying that guy at the apartment

was some kind of exact copy of Fry?

"Cause that's crazy.

He's a unique and beautiful object.

(GASPING) The printer.

Oh! I must have left the wireless connection

to your folk song directory open.

Everything you wrote in the song

got routed straight to the 3-D printer.

Big Caboose, duplicate Fry, even Cookie,

the crusty, comically inept geological surveyor,

they're all made of nano-plastic.

So, if Bender had sung about, I don't know,

some crazy giant land octopus attacking me,

it would have actually happened?

Pfft! I can't even imagine singing about such a thing.

(SINGING) Well

Fry, run!

Oh, relax, Beeler's stupid machine takes hours to print anything.

No, it doesn't.

I improved it using fancy modern technology.

(SCREAMING)

Bender, whatever you do, don't think about any more octopuses.

Octopuses?

I believe the correct plural is octopi.

I'm sorry. "Octopuses" is also acceptable.

Think about puppies, Bender, cute, harmless, dead puppies.

Don't worry. I'll disconnect him from the printer.

No, wait. I know how to save Bender from Big Caboose.

(TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWING) (BENDER WHIMPERS)

All he has to do is write his way out of this mess,

and the 3-D printer will make it happen.

Like how?

Well, I don't know.

Make up another giant octopus and have it kill Big Caboose.

What kind of lazy ending is that?

I'm not gonna put that in my song.

Hey, I have a cool idea.

Create a duplicate Bender,

so when Big Caboose Kills I, it's not real, it's duplicate.

Oh! Oh! They did that on Star Trek, TNG.

Cram it, nerd.

I'm not going to just copy some feel-good TV show wrap-up.

(TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWING)

I can think of a hundred endings that'll save you.

Just pick one.

No, Dr. Beeler, I won't just pick one.

My audience deserves better than some crappy, formulaic ending.

If I must die, let me die in a blaze of artistic integrity.

(SINGING) Well

(MELANCHOLY TUNE PLAYS ON GUITAR)

(SINGING) Then the steel-driving' man

Rammed his train through the wall

And crushed him flatter than a Mac-book Air, Lord, Lord

Crushed him flatter than a Mac-book Air

(SINGING) But while you were all out fighting With the giant plastic octopi

I copied myself, you see

Bender! Bender!

And I cowered in the bathroom

While that steel-driving' moron

Killed a duplicate instead of me

Lord, Lord

Killed a duplicate instead of me

(ALL EXCLAIMING)

Now, that's what I call a great ending.

I made a copy of myself and Big Caboose killed him.

But you said making a copy of yourself would be a lousy ending.

No, duplicate me said that.

See, I had to be sure he wouldn't try

and weasel out of getting killed

like I would, and did,

so I created him with a tragic weakness, artistic integrity.

Of course.

How could we have thought a guy with integrity

was you even for a second?

Because you're idiots.

Come on, Silicon Red, let's sell out.

(HIP-HOP MUSIC PLAYING)

(CHEERING)

(RAPPING) I'm the real Rodriguez Will you please stand up?

He been working' on the railroad Ladies can't get enough

I made a 3-D version of my worst nightmare

Sucker tried to stop the printer and I found him there

Went 187 on his robot ass

Turned out to be a copy of my robot ass

Now we're folk-singing' players packing' Beaujolais

And making' max contributions to our 401K

Peace out. (CHEERING)