All language subtitles for Futurama special S00E05 - Benders Game

Yes, 10!

Well done, Cubonius.

You decapitated the unicorn.

-Swell.
-All right.

Oh, oh!
We search his tail pouch for treasure.

Deep in the unicorn's rump sack, you find

60 gold pieces

and a mysterious scrap of cloth bearing
the unmistakable stench of dwarf urine.

The same stench
that was on the bed linens at the inn?

-The very same.
-Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

I cast a spell of detect magic.

What you doing, mini-meatbags?
Underage gambling?

Shame on you.

Count me in.

We're not gambling.
We're playing Dungeons & Dragons.

Right now, we're fighting for our lives
in the lair of the dragon queen.

Wrong, right now you're
ass-deep in a folding chair.

Yes, but in my imagination
I'm riding a golden Pegasus.

Giddy up, Sparky!

Am I the only one seeing him sitting here
with peanut butter on his face?

Bender, were you built
without an imagination?

What? Don't be stupid, of course not.

It just hasn't descended yet.

Fry, do I have an imagination?

I don't know, Bender. Why do you ask?

Were the other boys making fun of you?

Mmm-hmm.
They said I couldn't imagine things.

Well, you never know unless you try.

Like, I didn't know
if I could swallow a softball,

so I gave it my best shot and voilà!

Wait, that's not it.

There she blows.

Warning, out of dark matter fuel.

That's not a warning.

A warning is supposed to come
before something bad happens.

Warning,
engines will shut down in one second.

That's more like it.

Uh-oh.

This space neighborhood
looks kind of sketchy.

Rock 'n' roll.

That punk stole our hood ornament.

Now no one will know
we have the LX package.

We need dark matter and we need it fast.

Fry, check Nibbler's litter box.
Maybe he dropped a steamer.

Aye, aye, Captain.

Yes! I've never been so excited
to see poop.

Well, maybe once.

There's gas in our ass.

Can you believe the price of dark matter?

It'd be cheaper to fill the tank
with Nobel Prize winners' sperm.

Total dark matter purchased, $632.14.

Your Speedpass will now be charged.

You lousy...

Hey,
gets a loads of that ugly ship.

What shades of green is that? Puke?

For your information
it's called Electric Mucus.

More like puke.

Whoa!

Yeah, why don't you come a little closer
so my boot can hear you?

Calm down, Leela.
You can vent tonight on your blog.

What's the matters,
you couldn't affords the LX package?

Puke-a-doodle-do.

You're making fun of our ship?

Your ship is the most beat-up thing
I've ever seen,

and I've seen Mickey Rourke's head.

Yeah, she's a little Rourke-y,

but you got to gets big time ugly to be
five-time winners at a demolition derby.

That's five more times than we've won
or even entered.

We do suck.

Yup, and it's gonna be six winses
after tonights.

We'll sees abouts that.

Dark matter costs have tripled,
so we must reduce expenses.

Therefore, we will no longer provide
complimentary porno magazines

in the lounge.

-Darn it.
-And no more wasting fuel.

From now on I'll be keeping a tight hold
on the keys to the ship,

swallowing them before I go to bed
and recovering them the next morning.

Professor, it's 4:00.

4:00 in the evening? Then, good night.

I don't care what the Professor says.

We're entering that demolition derby
to prove our ship isn't a piece ofjunk.

But won't that turn our ship
into a piece ofjunk?

Shut up, Zoidberg.

He's right, Leela.

But we have no choice.
Rednecks insulted us.

So? Let it go.
Don't let your temper get the better of...

Rednecks!

Using this magneto,

I will now guide the keys up the thorax
and out via the frontal face hole.

That's the storage locker, the bolt,
the other bolt, pay dirt!

Rocket ship

Rocket ship

Greetings, sports fans.

Though whether
this outpouring of inbreds

can in fact be classified as a sport

is a subject of no small scholarly debate.

Well, wells, well, if it ain'ts
Princess Pukerella

and her pukey puke-mobile.

Oh, yeah? Well... Shut up.

-Good comeback, Leela.
-You shut up, too.

Rich Little, here, as Howard Cosell.

And now to grace us with its rendition
of the national anthem,

please welcome what is left
of the Dixie Chicks

after their tragic
matter transporter accident.

We're in horrible pain.

And we are underway.

Whoas!

Yes! Now we're inflicting.

Outstanding! Tonight we are
witnessing a veritable clinic

and that ludicrous hullabaloo
known as demolition derby.

Way to kill the franchise, Bakula.

Ladies and gentlemen,
we are down to our final two ships.

ln the storied annals of demolition derby,
today will surely be remembered,

if only as the day
upon which l was absorbed

into that hideous conglomeration
once known as the Dixie Chicks.

Buckle your sphincters.

-No! No!
-No!

-That broad's insanes.
-But you're insansier, right?

Nah, I guess nots.

I've decideds to relax
and enjoy life from now ons.

Yes! We did it!

And Planet Express takes the trophy.

Rocket ship

Now, I'll use the magnet
to get the keys back in there.

What? You mean I cut a big hole
in him for nothing?

Don't worry, the Professor
won't even remember

that he has a spaceship.

My precious spaceship.

My lone source ofjoy
in the cold December of my days.

Come, friends. Let's take her for a spin
to the malt shop like old times.

Leela to Zoidberg.
Execute Distraction Protocol Alpha.

Roger that.

Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!

Don't look at me.

Yes, she's a wonderful ship, all right.

As beautiful now
as the day I got botched laser eye surgery.

Now, that's odd.

What's the fuel gauge doing on the...

Great Godzilla's gonads!

Who wasted precious fuel?
Answer now or be punished.

-All right, fine. I admit it.
-You will be punished.

Oh, my gosh, 20!

Yeah.

Your pole arm does double damage,

and the gelatinous cube dies
in horrible poverty.

-All right.
-Hooray.

I proceed to cast a spell of darkness.

Most ingenious.

-Bender?
-Me?

I cast a spell of darkness.

Pretty imaginative, huh?

No, you just did the same thing as me,
but with a dumb noise.

Oh...

You're right. I'm great in every way
except I have no imagination.

All I ever wanted is to play
this magical game and I can't.

Yes, you can. You just have
to lose yourself in the fantasy.

You have to believe the impossible
is merely preposterous.

Okay. Here goes.

Visor down.

I believe, I believe.

Ooh.

I did it! I imagined something.

For 1.3 milliseconds,
I truly believed I was a noble robot

in days of yonder.

Way to go, Bender.

What is thy character's name, good sir?

Uh, um...

I am Titanius Inglesmith,

fancy man of Cornwood.

Everybody out of the conference room.
I am calling a conference.

Everybody get in here.

You wasted precious fuel just because
you were insulted by some redneck yokel

from beyond the stars?

-It was only half a ball.
-That's not the point.

Your temper is out of control.

And to think I'd have never even known

if it weren't for the lengthy
and unsolicited tattling of Dr. Zoidberg.

She also took home
two rolls of Scotch tape.

Thank you, Dr. Zoidberg.

Hermes, incentivize that employee.

As for you, Leela, I'm letting you off
with a warning.

Oh, thank you.

A warning that will be administered
by this 50,000-volt shock collar.

Zoidberg, I'm gonna put my boot
so far up your cloaca, you'll be...

Ow!

The collar will be triggered any time
your thoughts turn to violence.

Profanity.

Son of a...

Or perversions of a sexual nature.

Ow!

Sorry, it's the only collar
they had in stock at Office Depot.

I hope you picked up some Scotch tape
while you were there.

That's a good one.

lmagine, if you will,
an announcer you can barely understand.

He refers to a..

But you're not quite sure what he said.

He seems to be eating something,
or perhaps he's a little drunk.

lt's remotely possible that he just said
something about The Scary Door.

Firing, sir!

It's all over. Our guns and bombs

-are useless against the aliens.
-The saucers! Theys are crashing!

ln the end, it was not guns
or bombs that defeated the aliens,

but that humblest of all God's creatures,
the Tyrannosaurus Rex.

I can't believe TiVo suggested
that piece of... Ow!

Come on, Hermes.

Surely you have the authority
to remove this damn collar.

Alas, no.
I got the key but not the authority.

Yeow!

Well, who does have the authority?

Only the staff doctor.
You'll have to convince him

that you have resolved your anger issues.

I don't have any god...
mother...anger issues.

As your dwarf-skin canoe rounds a bend
you suddenly see...

A terrifying red dragon.

What do we do? What do we do?

Wait, I know.

I make use of my rod of fireballs.

Everyone knows red dragons
are immune to fireballs

as well as all other forms
of incendiary attack.

Yes, but I aim not at the dragon
but at the river itself,

to create a shroud of steam
through which we can escape.

Whoa!

Sweet pony of Sierra Leone, it worked!

-We did it!
-Yeah!

Bender, smell this milk.

I go not by the name of Bender,
you fleshy fool,

I am Titanius Inglesmith,
fancy man of Cornwood.

Professor, something's bothering me.

Well, you can
always talk to me about anything, Fry.

What's on your mind?

Well, it's about my friend Bender.

Mmm. I see.

Show me on this anatomically correct doll
exactly where he touched you.

No, it's nothing like that.
It's just that I am worried about him.

He's being playing an awful lot
of Dungeons & Dragons.

Dungeons &... Good God!
Hasn't he seen the Afterschool Special?

You've got to talk to him, Fry.

Make him quit now,
before he completely loses his mind.

-Okay, I will.
-Good boy.

Just don't let him touch you down there.

Well, here's your problem, right here.
You've got a skull embedded in your head.

You're absolutely right, Doctor.
Can the collar come off now?

Let me just peel your head a little
and see if I can get that skull out.

So, you tell me, little miss expert,
why always with the temper?

Calm down for once and think.

Here, enjoy a relaxing spritz
from my empathy bladder.

What is it, already?
What's the cause of your anger?

I guess I would have to say, I hate you.

I'm beginning to understand.
It all goes back to your parents.

-What?
-You have a resentment

because they pushed you
to study medicine,

when all you ever wanted
was to be a song-and-dance man.

Why? Why?

I was raised in an orphanarium.

My parents are sewer mutants

who I never even met
until a few years ago.

Then you've got to go to them
and work this song-and-dance stuff out.

Maybe have them cook me nice dinner.
No scallions. I hate them.

-Amy, cancel my appointments.
-Stop calling me.

Bender, please don't get mad,

but I think you might be playing too much
Dungeons & Dragons.

You're absolutely right, Fry.

I almost went insane,
but after this heart-to-heart talk,

-I've decided to quit.
-Really?

Whew! That's a load off my toad.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

I'm off to slay the werewolf
of Goblin Mountain.

On guard, man-wench!

Prepare to cross blades.

You couldn't afford it, honey.

Foolish leprechaun, I scoop your treasure
in the name of the fancy men.

He also left a small pile
of treasure on the living room rug.

Foul dragon, meet thy doom.

-Would you like a napkin, Doctor?
-Thank you.

Satisfied, Zoidberg?
My relationship with my parents is fine.

Now, hold on, Leela.
Maybe this torture collar is good for you.

What? Ow!

It'll control your temper.

Men like a woman who's not always
slamming their head in the car door.

She's right. That's what first attracted me
to your mother.

So, Leela, I understand your friend here
is a physician,

and I'm not seeing a ring on his claw.

Mom, he's a cockroach from outer space.

Good, Leela, work that anger out.

Excuse me a moment,
I'm swarming with parasites.

Hey, it's what's-his-name from the surface.

The bi-clops.

Have you seen Bender? He's gone nuts.
Also, smell this milk.

Prepare for a surprise attack.

Someone do something.

I would, but... Ow! Take my collar off.

I can't, I'm still eating.

Help me, Leela.

I cast upon thee a spell of fireball!

No.

Not the spork.

Beholdeth, Titanius,
I cast a freeze ray upon you.

That's ridiculous.
There's no such thing as a freeze ray.

-What, you mean a cone of coldness?
-Yeah, that.

No! No! Fancy men are defenseless
against cone of coldness.

I'm freezing... What?

Bender, no.

When will young people learn that
Dungeons & Dragons

won't make you cool?

Relax, Fry. I'm a doctor.

I'm sure the robot
will be just fine with a little help.

Help, help.

Help!

Please, send in the patient.

Yes, Doctor.

So, Bender, I understand you're having
trouble separating fantasy from reality.

Says who? Was it the bugbear?

-Is he talking about me again?
-I understand.

Commence therapy.

Tell me about your feelings.

Poor Bender.

Says here to tell his friends he's at a spa.

-So what happened to Bender?
-He's at a spa.

Wow, there's a spa in the nut house?

Friends, friends, stop everything.
There's food in this shaker.

Ow!

Enough already!
Can you please remove this anger collar?

-Are you still angry?
-No. Ow!

It also shocks you when you lie.

Quiet, everyone. The network news is on.

And if I, a 165-year-old man,
don't watch it, who will?

Thankfully, the amazing talking horse
was rescued

and safely returned
to the meat department.

Turning to the less stupid portion
of our broadcast,

fuel prices hit an all-time high today
due to the ongoing dark matter shortage.

Earlier, our own Morbo
sat down with Mom,

CEO of Mom's Friendly
Multinational Energy Conglomerate.

Oh! Hello, Morbo the Annihilator, here,

sitting down to a delightful tea
in this fake living room set.

Thank you for joining us, Mom.

My pleasure, sugarplum.

Mom, you control the world's
only dark matter mine.

Tell us, why are fuel prices so high?

Oh! It's terrible, isn't it?

Dark matter is just so rare nowadays,

but we'll keep pinching loaf after loaf
from the bowels of the earth,

even if I lose money on every log.

If you are losing money, how did you
post record profits last quarter?

You look thin, care for one of my
famous pecan clusters?

Morbo shouldn't. It will go straight
to Morbo's gargantuan forehead.

Oh, what the heck? I guess I could destroy
one or two of them.

Do people care enough to drill
for dark matter

even in an Alaskan wildlife refuge?

People do.

Greedy old hag, taste the wrath
of my fuzzy slipper.

Professor, why are you so hot and dusty
over this dark matter shortage?

I bet you'd like to know.
I bet you'd like to know, indeed.

Hello, Mother. How did the interview go?

It made me want to puke my face off.

-Where's my Thigh Blaster?
-Right here, Mom.

-Shut up!
-Okay, thank you.

Burn, you damn thighs. Burn!

Mommy, are you upset
'cause of the dark matter shortage?

There is no shortage,
you moronic ass-brain!

There's not? But you said...

Allow me to explain. Suppose this hand
represents current reserves of dark matter

and this hand represents
consumer demand.

Uh-huh.

I just bet you'd like to know
why I'm so angry

about this dark matter shortage.

I bet very much you'd like to know.

You're right, Professor.
We would like to know.

Really? I didn't think anyone
was interested.

It all started 30-odd years ago.

l was working in Mom's laboratories
for the third time

after twice before realizing
how evil she was

and vowing never to work for her again.

But somehow the rich,
wrong stench of her boney charms

kept calling me back.

Don't stop, Professor. I'm getting aroused.

Back in those days, dark matter
was just a worthless inert curiosity,

and l was smashing it
in a particle accelerator,

in an ill-conceived attempt
to create a more durable harpsichord wax.

But, as Deepak Chopra taught us,
quantum physics means

anything can happen at any time
for no reason.

Also, eat plenty of oatmeal,

and animals never had a war.

Who's the real animals?

And thus against all probabilities,
it happened.

Dang!

l'm sure l don't need to explain
that all dark matter in the universe

is linked in the form
of a single non-local meta-particle.

Stop patronizing us.

So, in one instant, I had transformed
all dark matter everywhere

into a new crystalline form...

...making it the most potent fuel
since primitive man first ignited

mastodon flatulence to heat his cave.

I'm intrigued, Hubert.
You have my undivided attention.

Shut up, you milk-sucking leeches!

A new super fuel, eh?

-We're rich.
-Indeed, we are.

Not you, we. Us, we.

I'm getting back together
with my ex-husband.

Wernstrom!

You've been played, Farnsworth.

Played like a cheap harpsichord.

Walt, fire that employee
like Mommy taught you.

Professor, maybe I can help you
get even with Mom.

I spend most of my time thinking about
how to get revenge on a bad boss.

-Me, too.
-Likewise.

I made a blinding powder.

Thanks, but that won't be necessary

because I have the ultimate weapon.

You see, in the instant
the energy crystal was created,

there also came into being
an opposite crystal

made of pure anti-backwards energy.

-Wow!
-Wow!

-So?
-So, this!

If ever the two crystals should meet,

their wave functions would collapse
like Raymond Burr's trampoline,

once again rendering all dark matter
inert and useless as fuel.

But then we'll have no fuel.

But once we free society
from dependence on Mom's dark matter,

scientists will finally care enough
to develop cleaner, alternative fuels.

Scientists like you?

No, not me.
I'm too busy developing makeup for dogs.

That's where the money is.

This is our chance to teach Mom a lesson.
Come on!

Let's take the anti-crystal
and shove it up Mom's regular crystal.

-Yeah.
-Fight the power!

There's just one, small problem,
and it's a big one.

I hid the crystal
and I can't remember where.

Well, surely it's just a matter of waiting
till you next move your bowels

-and then using a potato masher...
-Don't you think I already tried that?

No. I'm afraid, the crystal is lost forever.

Nine? You did it.
You outwitted the fungus.

Who needs girls?

Since you have all proven resistant
to individualized hammer therapy,

I now prescribe group therapy.

Everything must be clean, very clean.

That's why the dog had to die.
He was a dirty dog. Dirty, dirty.

Also, that boy, Elroy. Dirty, dirty.

Who would like to share their feelings?

-l feel unappreciated at work.
-What?

-I can barely understand you.
-l said l feel...

Change places.

Well, well. Looks like old Roberto
is the focus of attention now.

Stop looking at me.

Calm down, Roberto.

Tell us about your childhood.

I was designed by a team of engineers
attempting to build

an insane robot. But it seems they failed.

Actually...

Look, we have to accept the fact
that we all have a serious problem.

And if we ever wanna get out of here,
the first step is to admit it.

-Amen.
-Good, Bender.

-That's right.
-Yes.

There's a band of river trolls
living in the moat,

and they may have no intention
of letting us out of this castle,

unless we hand over
the Golden Scepter of Zanthor.

Say what? Dude's crazy.

-Bender, please, try to...
-I know not of this Bender.

I am Titanius Inglesmith,

fancy man of Cornwood.

You are suffering a breakdown. Now stop.

Hammer time.

I'm in your seat.
I forgot we had changed places.

Change places.

Good news, everyone!

-You perfected dog mascara?
-Far from it.

If you ask me, they look like
a bunch of hookers.

But what I have invented is a means
of locating the missing crystal.

When I push this button, the crystal
will emit a high-frequency stink.

Hurray!

There. Now, with any luck
I'll detect it with my smelling aid.

I just pray to all powerful Atheismo
that we find it before Mom does.

-Do you smell the crystal, Professor?
-No, damn it!

Just the alluring scent of Obsession
for spaniels.

-Dude. Who whipped an egger?
-He who smelled it, dealt it.

Yeah? Well, he who denied it, supplied it.

Well, he who articulated it, particulated it.

Well, he who refuted it, tooted it.

Stalemate.

Jesus craps. The anti-backwards crystal.

Ow!

-Sorry?
-Relax, it's not your fault.

I can't believe it still exists.

Google the hell out of that skanker.

Planet-sucking-Express?

Of course.
How could I have been so dumb?

With that crystal,

Farnsworth could completely destroy
my dark matter empire.

I underestimated that sagging
old bag of bones and gonads.

-Is that man bad?
-Very bad, Igner.

And that's why I need you three to go
steal the anti-crystal away from him.

But be careful.
You'll need all your stoogely cunning.

-Exterminators.
-Oh, great.

What do we got?
Wall gophers? Toilet snails?

No, I'm afraid you've got owls.
Over there, see?

Ow!

Dump the bag, you nitwit.

-Hey, watch it.
-Quiet, you.

Ow!

I was looking over there for a long time
but I didn't see any...

Oh, there they are. Gross.

We've got to act fast.
Larry, get out the geigersniffer.

I don't know, Walt.
You're just gonna hit me with it.

No. I'm going to hit you with this.

-Those three exterminators are hilarious.
-Really?

-I don't think so.
-Me, neither.

Now, Sex and the City, that's funny.

After wandering aimlessly
in the swamp, you suddenly...

Wander aimlessly in the swamp.

There it is.

Excuse you.
As you apparently didn't notice,

we're trying to traverse
the Quagmire of Slogdonia.

I'm sorry, little boy.
You see, we're owl exterminators.

We are owl...

Ow!

And what we have here is an owl egg

that's about to hatch into an owl larva.

So, if you don't mind,
we'll just take this and...

What are you, stupid?

That's a dodecahedral crystal I found
hidden in the downstairs walrus tank.

And I wrote numbers on it
so we could use it as a D12.

'Cause I have the best handwriting.

-Do not.
-Do too.

-Do not.
-Do too.

You win this round.

What's going on here?

We're owl exterminators.

Then you won't have any problem
exterminating this owl.

Please!

My anti-backwards crystal.

So it's you three.

I should have known Mom would send
her brainless brood to do her dirty work.

-Walt, the leader among imbeciles.
-Hey!

They resent that.

Larry, the sniveling middle child.

Sorry. Thank you.

And you, Igner. The evil I could tolerate,
but the stupidity...

-We're owl exterminators.
-Good God.

Just knowing we're in the same genus
makes me embarrassed

to call myself homo.

Now, get out and tell Mom
thanks for the crystal.

Thanks for the crystal.

There. The repairs are complete.

Let's go, already.

We've got to infiltrate
Mom's dark matter mine, now.

How do you start this thing?

Good lord, woman.
Can you move any slower?

Rake up some dark matter
and top off the tank.

Well, there isn't any dark matter.
Nibbler hasn't pooped at all.

And he ate a whole family
of koalas last night.

Nibbler! Nibbler!

I'm not interested in the whereabouts
of your cutesy-fruitsy space rat.

The only thing that matters right now
is this crystal.

Ow!

And be careful with that crystal.

Death to ogres!

Even relaxation therapy has failed.

Diagnosis, insanity.

Nurse, schedule a robotomy for Bender.

Yes, Doctor.
I'll get the tools from the shed.

It's a very painful procedure.
So until then, just try to relax.

-What are you laughing at?
-Your laugh.

-It's just so infectious.
-So's herpes. Now, shut up!

You and Walt,
lead the killbots to the surface

and blow Farnsworth out of the sky.

What about Igner?

That hairless ape?

I swear. When he came out, I flipped a coin
whether to keep him or the after-birth.

Yes, Mother.
You told that story at his graduation.

I'm afraid he can't be trusted
on this mission.

You see, there is a terrible secret
about Igner I've never told anyone.

And here it is.

-Continue returning fire.
-What?

-What did they say?
-I don't know. I can't hear a thing.

Hey, what's everybody talking about?

Mayday! Mayday!

Oh, God. l cannot believe
this is the best plan l could come up with.

We weren't actually in the ship.

Okay, team, these red-hot,
razor-sharp fans

are the only safe way into the mine.

Ladies first.

Whew! That blade missed me
by the skin of my pants.

-Maintenance shaft 7 serving...
-Shut your mouth.

I'm just talking about the shaft.

-Jeez. Doesn't that shock collar hurt?
-Actually, feels kind of good.

I guess I'm starting to associate it
with the pleasure of beating people up.

We shot them down, Mother.

The intruders never even got to Sector 1.

lntruders in Sector 15
lntruders in Sector 15.

Ugh...

Sometimes I don't know why
I even bother to slap you.

-All killbots to Sector 15
-What did she say?

What did you say?

There are so many killbots behind us,
I can't count them all.

Three, I think.

We're trapped.

The main pit must be in here.

I'm detecting vast quantities
of dark matter.

Step aside turkey-neck.
I think I know the code.

We're in. We're in the heart of the mine.

The very source of all Mom's wealth and...

My God! This isn't a crap mine.

It's a crap farm.

Is there really so much of a distinction?

-I mean...
-Leela, it's me, Nibbler.

Oh, my God, you look horrible, Nibbler.
I think I'm going to vomit.

Nibbler is over there.

Oh, sorry. Nibbler.

Oh, sorry. Nibbler.

Oh, my poor little snuzzy-wuzzams.

Are they treating you okay?

No, they are force-feeding us
so we poop more dark matter.

It's horrible.

Those are good.

You've got to help us.

-Help us!
-Help us, for God's sakes!

-Nibbler made a bo-bo.
-Yes, but not on my terms.

I will not be treated like...
Hey, wait, aren't you amazed I can speak?

Well, actually, no. You forgot to blank
our memories after you spoke last time.

You mean you've known I was sentient?

Then why did you let me eat Friskies
and make bo-bo in a litter box?

-Well, you're cuter that way.
-Cute as a baby's buttocks.

So what happened?
How did Mom capture all you Nibblonians?

It all began 36 years ago... Now!
On the planet Virgon 6...

It was a veritabIe Eden,

brimming with unique
and irreplaceable species.

Most of which were delicious

l was supreme fuzzler
of a Nibblonian scientific outpost.

lt was paradise, until they came.

One of your DOOP ships
struck dark matter,

little realizing it was not a natural deposit,

but rather centuries
of Nibblonian fecal material

Wow, the big fecal enchilada.
Anyone else hungry?

The DOOP contracted
a ruthless businesswoman

to spearhead the mining operation.

-Let me guess. Mom?
-The very same.

Can I also guess Mom?

To reduce cost
she started a new enterprise,

Mom's Friendly Robots,

to build robot slaves

Remember this was back in the days
before Robot Lincoln.

-Faster, faster!
-I'm going exactly

-as fast as you built me to go.
-Wise guy, huh?

Ow!

Eventually, the planet was mined
down to a hollow shell

and my people were forced to evacuate.

Alas, l had eaten a day-old
swinosaur for lunch.

And while doing some evacuating
of my own, l was left behind.

So, that's where it comes from.

We may have a whole new source
of dark matter on our hands.

Ew!

As it turned out, l was the lucky one.

Unbeknownst to me, Mom captured
my colleagues and enslaved them here

in this crap farm.

There's nothing to do but eat and crap,
eat and crap. It's like visiting my parents.

As for me, l emerged
from behind the bush of many uses

to find l had been left behind
I was doomed, doomed.

Hello, there.

Startled, my cuteness reflex kicked in.

I'll call him Nibbler.

A silly name
for a high-ranking fuzzler.

But, hey, l was glad to be rescued.

But then, how did you end up here
with the others?

I was kidnapped yesterday
by Mom's vile sons,

in their moronic disguises.

I was an owl exterminator.

-Do you have the crysal?
-It's pronounced "crystal," you lump.

Go, run fast.

Did you see anyone?

-Me?
-Yes, you. You're the only one here.

If I'm the only one here,
then how could I see anyone?

-He's got a point, Walt.
-So does my knee.

This wouldn't be so bad
if it weren't for the chickens.

Don't worry, those clamps
are for my own protection.

Do you know where you are, Bender?

Sure do, I'm in the magical land of
Cornwood, frolicking with wenches.

Close, you're in the loony bin
for a robotomy.

I will begin by drilling through the eye
to access the frontal processor.

-Can't you just use the access panel?
-Either way is fine.

Does anyone else smell
burning dragon beak?

Wherever you are, Farnsworth,
my boys will find you.

They've eluded us, Mother.

But rest assured,
we've already slapped each other,

so there's no need to...

You'll thank me some day
when you are slapping your own kids.

I know Farnsworth's game.

He is going to try to poke
his clammy old crystal

-at my hot fiery crystal.
-Mom!

If the crystals get within six inches
of each other... Wham!

All my dark matter will be worthless.

Get them!

Keep going, Professor.
I'll take care of the ditz brothers.

Ooh.

-That feels good.
-Oh, for crying out...

Oh, the freaking battery's dead.
Walt, where's the charger?

In the hardware drawer, Mother.

Damn tangled mess of wires.

We're almost there.
The crystals are beginning to engorge.

I can't quite reach.

Fry, grab onto my easy-fit waistband.

Just a few more inches.

Come on, really wedgie it on in there.

So, that's why they call me the Catman.

Nobody move. I've found the charger.

Hang on. I'm on it. Okay, there!

Save us, Catman.

It's over, Hubert.
Give me the anti-backwards crystal.

Never!

Oh, bravo.

You're in a crap-harvesting factory, genius.

Walt! Larry! Start harvesting.

No!

I will now delicately
jerk out your imagination,

severing fantasy's grip
on your nerd-circuit.

Cornwood!

Illogical. Illogical. Computational overload.

But, Doctor, I love you.

Oh, what now?

This is crazy. Ow!

-What the... You okay, Leela?
-Yeah, I think so.

Wait a second. Is there something
different about your hooves?

Oh, Lord. I'm half-horse and half-naked.

Where the hell are we, hell?

-Bender?
-I know not of this Bender.

I'm Titanius Inglesmith.
Welcome to Cornwood!

Wretched peasants, put aside your cares

and feast on the succulent flesh
of the roast munchkin!

Care for a slice of scroto?

-That's his name, right?
-'Tis also that, sir.

We're honored this eve
by a visit from my friends of old,

Frydo and Legola.

So let the dwarves do their gay dance

and let the gnomes
play their sissy piccolos.

Dance! Dance, you little freaks.

Faster.

Faster!

-My ankle!
-To the kitchen with him!

Wait! Wait! Wait! I do impressions.

Behold! The swamp hag.

Get out of my swamp, you kids!

Don't let him get too crispy.

-Lord Inglesmith.
-You have ridden hard, noble squire.

May I offer you a horn of ale
and a shank of dwarf?

'Tis dire news, sire. Dark riders approach.

You shall be handsomely rewarded,
sir knight.

We ride at once!

Oops!

Frydo! Saddle up that trusty steed.

What's happening?
And why am I enjoying it so much?

Foul beast-bags!

Meet thy doom!

Follow me.

-Damn thee, Ignus.
-Well, you said to follow you.

Well, now I say follow this!

-The die of power! He's rolling it.
-Oh, no!

I'm back...

Seven

"Banish foes"? Cool.

No! No!

I got to say, I had no idea
the die of power was so powerful.

Did you have any idea of...

Get out of my swamp, you kids!

I can't believe I'm saying this,
but that was really exciting.

I've never felt so alive.

What else can we slay?
Is that a hobbit over there?

No, that's a hobo and a rabbit.

But they're making a hobbit.

Thank God, an outhouse.
I can't hold it in much longer.

And by it, I mean my entrails.

Hush! This be no outhouse,

but the lair of the great wizard Grayfarn.

-Who is it?
-'Tis I, Titanius.

Just a moment.

Methinks the wizard be casting
a powerful spell, indeed.

Come in! Come in!

Yes.

'Tis a powerful object in both our worlds.

If you failed to destroy it in yours,

perhaps you were brought here
that you might have a second chance.

-So, this land is real?
-Oh, dreadfully real.

If you die here, you'll really be dead.

But instead of science,
we believe in crazy hocus-pocus.

-It's like Kansas.
-God help us.

Cornwood's troubles began
hundreds or perhaps millions of years ago.

Deep in the Geysers of Gygax,
Momon herself

injection-molded the dice of power
from the living plastic.

Damn, these are hot.

In our universe she's called Mom.

In your universe,
are you taught not to interrupt?

Evidently not.

Anyway, Momon spawned
three rotten sons,

whom you've already had
the displeasure of meeting.

Waltazar, Larius, and the dumbest of all,
the halfwit Ignus,

bastard son of Momon
and the brainless He-demon.

Curse you, Momon, queen of all that is evil

and not very good in bed.

And I'm not just saying that
because she dumped me.

Yes, I was once her consort.

l was blinded by love,
and later, scorpion venom.

I'm blind!

But Momon has one weakness.

She put too much of her power into this.

The generalissimo of dice.

Yeah? Well, bite my shiny metal face.

Don't be foolish, Titanius.

If you had paid attention
in freshman alchemy,

instead of frequenting the bawdyhouse,

you'd know
there's only one way to destroy it.

In the boiling plastic
from which it was molded.

Like that machine
that makes wax lions at the zoo.

Quiet, you.

We must infiltrate the Geysers of Gygax,

the impenetrable stronghold of Momon.

Impossible. Impossible, I say.

No, Titanius.
For we maintain one advantage,

the element of surprise.

Verily, our quest has begun.

Stop right there.

Hermes?

-He's a centaur like me.
-You wish.

I am Hermaphrodite,
most beautiful of centaurs.

Gaze upon me and weep at my loveliness.

Very well.

Loveliest of centaurs,

we seek to end Momon's reign of evil.

Have you stout fighters at your command?

One thousand archers of truest aim.

Fire.

Hey guys, I forgot I had this pumpkin.

I knew it. My people are mighty warriors.

Our enemies will be like Swiss cheese
with blood coming out of the holes.

-We centaurs are creatures of peace.
-Oh, Lord.

Violence is never justified.
We shall not join your quest.

And furthermore,
if mayhem be your intent,

you may not cross our lands.

-Or what?
-Or...

Uh... Mmm?

You may pass.

We're not there, we're here.

-No, this way.
-I mean, here.

Thank you, kindly, Treedledum.

Okey-doke. Anything else I can do?

You know who I'm gonna miss?
That tree guy.

Bad news, fancy men.
Momon's guards stand watch at the pass.

'Tis as if she somehow anticipated us.

And so our quest comes to an end.

I only regret not giving up sooner.

Fret not, Titanius.
For we still have one hope,

the Cave of Hopelessness.

Let me know how that turns out.

Halt. Are you on the list?
I'm not seeing you on the list.

-I'll split this doofus in half.
-Wait. I got it.

Yeah. My cousin's in the band.
The band of merry men.

Please, we were already in there.
I just need to go back for my coat.

I am Gynecaladriel,
queen of the water nymphos.

All right. I'll split this doofus in half.

Stand aside, and I will use my powers
to overwhelm the guard.

-Behold, the deed is done.
-Ho!

Mr. Wizard, why is this place
called the Cave of Hopelessness?

Oh, fear not, lad.

'Tis named for its discoverer,
Reginald Hopelessness...

Whew!

...the first man to be eaten alive
by the Tunneling Horror.

What's that? The Tunneling Horror?

No, it's morks.

-Mork. Hey, listen.
-Nanu, nanu. Shazbot.

-Oh, God, no. They're so aggravating.
-Oh, fantastic.

Nanu, nanu.

Reality, what a concept.

Fantastic.

Mindy, Mindy, Mindy.

-Shut up! Shut up!
-Oh, fantastic.

Oh, fantastic. Oh, wonderful.

Maybe it'll go away
if we just don't laugh at it.

It doesn't.

Nanu, nanu.

Shazbot.

Well, at least we didn't have to face
the tunneling whatchimacallit.

Uh-oh.

Enough already with the banging
and the swashbuckling.

Oh, I'm gonna enjoy killing you.

Watch where you're shooting that thing.

Again?
What, am I talking to myself over here?

Mutilate!

Okay. Now, I'm getting a little mad even.

I'll kill you and eat your heart,
you abomination.

Don't make me laugh.

The very idea that removing only
one of my two hearts could...

Hey, what are you doing down there?

Now, I'm dead.

Leela, it's over. You killed him enough.

I'm not taking any chances
with the Tunneling Horror.

What? I'm not the Tunneling Horror.
I hate that guy.

Always with the tunneling.
Anyway, I'm dead.

So, you're just an innocent monster.

Oh, God. What have I done?

Oh! There he goes again.

The Tunneling Horror!

Grayfarn, what do we do?

Do about what?

Why aren't you killing it, Leela?
You love killing.

No, no more killing.

Oh! So, suddenly, Miss Goody Four-shoes
over here doesn't kill anymore.

She killed me not five minutes ago.

-What am I? Chopped liver?
-Shut up.

-Stop chopping my liver.
-You're on your own.

I refuse to hurt another living thing.

All right.
I may be weak and I may be small,

but I don't see
how I can possibly destroy that monster.

Guess I'll just
huck whatever's in my pockets at him.

At least I can say I tried.

Any time now.

The die of power.
I forgot to remember to roll it.

Three

"Grow"? I don't see anything growing.
Everything is getting smaller.

Ow.

Wait a second. I'm big!

In your face, everyone from middle school.
Especially, Jeremy.

Wow, that was intense.

-You guys got to try the die of power.
-I'll take a hit.

Hands off the dodecalicious.

Beware, Frydo. Don't be seduced.
Hang on a second.

Resist the allure of the die.

For to defeat Momon,
we must melt it in the super bombastic,

bubbling plastic from whence it came.

For to defeat Momon,
we must melt it in the super bombastic,

bubbling plastic from whence it came.

I send you to kill them
and they're not even maimed?

That's what I get
for sending boys to do a mom's job.

-Sorry, Mom.
-Sorry doesn't put heads on my table.

Peaches.

You're up.

I like this part but I don't like...

You are an able opponent, Hermaphrodite.

But hear me well
when I posit that we must

abhor violence in all its forms.

I offer a dissenting opinion.

Huh?

For abhorring violence
is itself an act of violence

and, therefore, to be abhorred.

All bow before mighty Hermaphrodite.

-Don't hurt me.
-I'm not here to hurt you.

Or anything ever again.

Please, teach me
the centaurs' ways of wimpiness.

What do you offer in return?

Chewy, Chewy, Chewy,
Chewy, Chewy, Chewy, Chewy

Baby, always got a mouthful
of such sweet things to say

Oh-ie little Chewy

Don't know what you're doing to me

But you're doing to me what l want you to

Yes! We made it out
of that godforsaken cave.

Now, what's the fastest way home?
Back through the cave?

Ow! Ow!

We're close now, my friends.

So close, I can practically feel
the heat of the fiery molten plastic.

-You're standing in the fire.
-Oh, my.

Alas, our path is blocked
by Momon's army of evil.

As well as her navy of moral dubiousness.

Wait a second.

Mayhaps we might
raise an army of our own.

We're but
an hour's ride from Wipe Castle.

Of course. Wipe Castle.

And while we're there, we can get
some of those greasy little dwarf burgers.

Ooh! I love those.

You can eat like eight of them
without gaining any weight,

because of all the diarrhea.

Sleep deep, fair snoozles.

At dawn, we ride for Wipe Castle.

Quiet, Frydo.

We've got them now.

-Send all our forces against Wipe Castle.
-Right away, Mother.

I'll just leave a small contingent behind
in case...

-I said, everything. Peaches!
-I'm in the tub.

Waltazar,
you and Larius shall lead the assault.

What about Ignus?

I'm afraid
he can't be trusted on this mission.

You see, there is a terrible secret
about Ignus

I've never told anyone.

And here it is.

It's a good day to be evil.

Oh, put a towel on, for crap's sake.

They all wants it.
They wants the dodecalicious.

Tell you what,
you want to defend a magic artifact,

and I mean, defend it good,

then what you need is a top-quality knife.

Me is listening.

The Eviscerator is one of the finest,
if not the finest,

tactical folder on the market today.

We're talking 440 stainless,
quick release and... I don't believe this.

Is this a stag horn handle at this price?

-It is, yeah. It's a stag horn.
-At this price?

You have got to be kidding me.

That's got to be some kind of mistake,
right there.

Now, you folks at home,
I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking, that can't be stag horn.

It's got to be the cheaper manticore horn.

But, I've got the specs right here
and I'll tell you what,

-this is the real deal.
-Unbelievable.

It is unbelievable. That's exactly what it is.

I mean, this is...
I have no words to describe this deal.

Honestly, have you ever seen
stag horn at this price?

No, no, I don't believe I ever have.

1101-1816 is the item number on this one.

You know what, we're gonna have to
put a clock on this deal, folks.

Two minutes. Can I get a clock
at two minutes up there?

Two minutes at most.

Honestly,
I'd be surprised if they last that long.

Oh, I'd be very surprised, shocked really.

Now, I know the lines are busy, people,

but keep dialing in if you want
a truly exceptional knife

to slice up your friends in their sleep.

He tried to murder me. He tried...

Oh, cool. Is that the stag horn?

Alas, Frydo's weakness
was no match for the die's strength.

We can only hope he forges on
alone to the Geysers.

I can hope my ass is made of ice-cream

but that don't make me
a hot fudge sundae.

As for us,
we must press on to Wipe Castle,

though the journey be long
and I fear I may not live to see it.

There it is!

They's following us's.

You know, you talk like that, it's gonna
cost you points at a job interview.

What does it wants?

First of all, I resent being called "it."

I prefer jerkhole or simply...

Second, I thought I could help you
destroy the die, maybe.

Yes, yes, please help me.
The die is tearing me apart.

No, it's not. We're having a nice time.

Shut up. You shut up.

S'all right? S'all right.

Help me!

Get out of my swamp, you kids!

Now, before your audience with the king,

there's a shocking fact
you best know about him.

Enough blabbety-blab! Open the doors.

What, ho?

We bring ill tidings, o fanciest of men.

Momon's reach nears the die of power.

And should she obtain it,
she will then have the entire basic set.

Rivers will run red with blood
and yellow with urine.

And a dog will be seen eating cat food
in the land.

Oh, great king,
your army is the last hope of Cornwood.

Let us join forces before the light of good
is extinguished forever.

You calling me crazy?

Just 'cause I've got a hotel in my foot
don't make me a...

-Pardon?
-Stop laughing at me, fried avocado.

Moving along then,
as the only nobleman present who's not...

I hereby place myself
in command of the royal army.

-What royal army would that be?
-What?

King went insane
and declared war on the scallops.

Tied his army to a boulder
and pushed them into the sea.

They never returned.

Scallops must've got them.

Oh, well. There'll be no epic battle today.

Methinks we be boned.

Where's their army?

Maybe they didn't hear the horn.
Blow it again.

Man, I'll show that cat how to blow.

All right. On three. One, two, three.

Oil in the murder hole.

What are they pouring
through the murder hole? Hot oil?

Yeah, I think it might be hot oil.

I knew it. I was right, Walt. It's hot oil.

Ow!

What the... You're not made of Tuesday.

My sanity. It's back.

At last, I can live the life I always...

Ahhh!

You're going onto sainthood.
Just call the chef.

-What does it mean?
-It is as we feared.

-Evil will soon triumph over good.
-Your friends face certain death.

Followed by a disrespectful
marionette show

performed with their corpses.

-No! We've got to do something.
-Believe me, we will.

We've taken out a sternly worded ad
in tomorrow's Cornwood Times.

What a load of man-horse manure.

Well, Legola, if you have a better idea,
perhaps you'd like to challenge me to

debate.

I'm too exhausted. I can't go on.

I'm here for you, my friend.
I'll drag you onward.

Even to my last ounce of strength.
Grab onto my testicles.

You know,
I think maybe I can walk after all.

That's not Wipe Castle.

The dodeca-call is coming
from inside the house.

What are you waiting for, Frydo?
Throw it already in the boiling plastic.

-I would. But...
-Me's enjoys owning it.

Stop talking like that. It gives me anxiety.

Ow!

No!

Twelve

So, it's all come down to this.
A dungeon and dragons.

I didn't see it coming.

Wait.

Eat the wizard,
eat the slut

Eat the robot's shiny butt

Well, at least
we'll be remembered in song.

Wait a second. I have an idea.

I surrender. Here, eat my friends.

Just give me one more second
of sweet, sweet life.

Well, that worked out
pretty good, eh, fellows?

Prepare to fire again, brave cowards.

I still say, I won the debate.

Fire.

Uh-oh.

Whew!

Legola, you saved us.

How can I ever repay you?

Frydo is fighting for his life.
The fate of Cornwood is in our hands.

Quickly, to the Geysers.

-Can it wait a couple of minutes?
-Yes. Yes, it can.

You are no match for my dragon style.

I guess you are
a match for my dragon style.

Tell me, Frydo,

are you aware that a dragon's
one weakness is its soft underbelly?

No. Why do you...

Get my friend out of your mouth.

It is all over, Momon.

We'll soon be down there defeating you.

And it's all thanks to
the existence of this fragile staircase.

Whoa!

Quick. Get on the magic bug.

It's not a magic bug, you dope.
It's a magic arachnid.

Can't you count the legs?

-No.
-Six, seven, eight. Not six, eight.

I'll kill you, you imbecile.

My underbelly. My one weakness.

I got it. Now I can throw it in
the hot thing over there and be the hero.

On the other hand,
infinite power might be nice.

Please, I'm trying to help you.

Then why are you hitting me with a stick?

How stupid are you
that you think that's helping?

Mommy never told you about my father.

-She said he was a foul He-demon.
-Exactly.

You are my father.

No. No, that's impossible.

Search your feelings.
You know it to be true.

No, no!

Yeah. I heard Mommy say so.

I have all the dice.
I am the dungeon master.

I know all and see...

Game over.

No! No!

What happened?

My God,
we're out of that weird, crazy world

and back in our regular crazy world.

Did we all just
have some kind of freaky dream

or was it ghosts?

Neither, Fry. It was science.

Bender's mighty imagination
amplified by a dark matter resonance

created an alternate reality
that very nearly blew our minds.

Exactly.
You can't make that kind of stuff up.

Quit trying to explain everything.

I defeated you in that world
and I'll defeat you in this one.

Boys, the crystal's still in his stomach.

Commencing intestinal flash flood.

Wait! Before my moment of shame, can I...

Yes, speak up.

Can I give my boy a hug?

All right. Fine. I've never done it.
I guess somebody should.

Daddy.

Like father, like son, eh, boy?

We both eated the crysals.

No. No!

My dark matter. It's worthless.

That's right, Mom. But fear not, fancy folk.

For I've just thunk up
an alternative energy source.

-Nibbler-power.
-Hurray. Wait. What?

Mush! Mush!

Whip harder, Professor.

Faster, faster. Slower.

One, two
One, two, three

All rise
Attention

All rise
Attention

All rise
Attention

Twenty-four
l'm gonna get twenty four

l'm gonna get 24th century
on his ass

Anyone wanna play

Dungeons & Dragons
for the next quadrillion years?