Futurama s02e15 Episode Script

Clone of My Own Good news! The university is bringing me up|on disciplinary charges.
Wait, that's not good news.
Whatever you did, I'm sure|there's a good explanation.
Yes, but they won't listen.
Everyone's always in favor|of saving Hitler's brain.
But when you put it in the body|of a great white shark? Suddenly you've gone too far! Professor Farnsworth, do you know|why we've called you here today? Listen to me, you pompous frauds! If I'm going down,|I'm taking you all with me! Dean Vernon, I know the truth! It was you driving your hover car|that night, not your horse.
Dean Epsilon I know all about your|"Department of Pool Boy Studies".
And Dr.
Wernstrum? Wernstrum! Actually, professor,|we merely called you here to say surprise.
- Happy birthday!|- Surprise! And you, Coach Smalley! Or should I say, "Coach Hairpiece"? No, professor.
|It's a surprise party for your 150th birthday! Good evening, I'm Sorry.
I'm Bender, and I'll be|emceeing this roast.
They say you can judge a man|by the company he keeps.
So here's the professor's oldest|friend, a grotesque, stinking lobster! Good evening, ladies and germs.
That wasn't a joke.
|I was talking to Dean Streptococcus.
Now I'm not saying|Professor Farnsworth is old but if you consider his age,|he's likely to die soon.
Hey, Ringo? That was the joke.
It's ShoWtime at the Apollo|all over again.
Where would a professor be without|students who love and respect him? Right there! But seriously, of all the former crew|members of his delivery ship our next speaker is by far|the most alive.
Captain Musky? I wouldn't want to follow that guy.
And now, a man who needs|no introduction.
Fry, get up there! Thank you.
When I was first asked to make a film|about my nephew, the professor I thought, why should I?|Then later, Leela made the film.
But if I had made it, there would be|more topless women on motorcycles.
Roll film.
Hubert J.
FarnsWorth Was born|April 9th, 2851 in NeW NeW York's nerdiest slum,|Hell's Laboratory.
A precocious child, he learned to read|While he Was still in diapers at age 8.
Soon he became a greasy teenager.
Dork alert! After 14 years of graduate school he settled into the glamorous life|of a scientist.
Fast cars, trendy nightspots beautiful Women.
The professor designed them all,|Working out of his one-room apartment.
For 50 years, he Worked at|Mom's Friendly Robot Company Where he created the first robot|capable of qualifying for a boat loan.
And noW, even as he nears|his 150th birthday the professor retains|the fiery passion of youth.
Listen to me, you pompous frauds! If I'm going doWn,|I'm taking you all With me! How about a few words, professor? I said, words.
What a pleasure it is to see|my lifetime of accomplishment summed up in a 3-minute film.
My best years are behind me.
So much left undone.
So little time.
Funny, funny stuff! My life is over.
No, it isn't.
|You have another 10 years left.
Leela, he could live|another 100 years! No, he couldn't.
When you turn 160 robots from the Sunset Squad|take you to a mysterious planet and you never return.
Wow, a whole planet of old people.
|Where is it? Nobody knows.
So many loves half-loved.
So many inventions half-invented.
That damn time machine alone|set me back 15 years.
If only it'd work, you could go back|and not waste your time on it.
There's no one to carry on|after I'm gone.
No one to take over my work and|my research and my fabulous fortune.
By God, that's it! I've got to name a successor! A successor? A successor to the professor? There's no time to lose.
I'm off to my lab to build|a successor-naming machine! The professor's been in his lab|for days! I hope he didn't die.
|Unless he named me his successor.
Then I hope he did die.
You, the successor?|Over my empty shell! The professor will pick me.
|Only I have his lobster-like tenacity.
Up yours, Zoidberg! Up wherever your species|traditionally crams things.
The only sensible way to pick|a successor is with a limbo contest.
- What?|- Kingston rules.
Two men go down, one comes up.
Look, the professor trusts me|with a giant spaceship.
He wouldn't trust you|with his dentures.
Yes, he would.
Sorry, everyone.
But need I remind|you, blood is thicker than water.
Blood.
Thicker.
Water.
Everyone, I have a very|dramatic announcement.
So anyone with a weak heart|should leave now.
Goodbye.
Professor? Oh, yes! The announcement.
As you all know,|I am not long for this world.
- Yes, we know.
|- One foot in the grave.
So I've picked my successor.
It's someone in whom|I have great faith though his mind is undeveloped|and he's accomplished nothing.
My closest living relative my clone, Qbert Farnsworth.
He's horrible! Crud.
Can I at least be in charge|of your dentures? You wish.
Where did he come from? by removing skin cells from one|of the shapelier growths on my back.
If he's your clone, why doesn't|his nose look like yours? I left him in his first tube too long|and he got squished against the side.
Is he dumb or just ugly? Let's find out.
What? You've never seen|a genius's wiener before? - No.
Never.
|- Well, once in the park.
Since I'm going to be in charge let me examine my so-called crew.
If it can so be called.
First of all, Dr.
Zoidberg do you even have a medical degree? I lost it.
In a volcano.
And why do we need a bending robot|around here anyway? What possible use do we have for you? Me no speak-a the English.
And why does our space pilot|have only one eye? There's someone I'd like you to meet.
|His name is depth perception.
Why, you little Wow, that hurt the air! Him pending para un bending.
Qbert, come in here.
I'll show you something amazing.
What is it, a competent employee? I doubt that very much.
The little twerp.
As my successor, I'm trusting you|to carry on my work.
These are some of the inventions|you'll spend your life finishing.
I didn't realize you were the inventor|of the junk heap.
That's my prizewinning Smell-a-Scope.
If a dog craps anywhere in the|universe, I won't be out of the loop.
And this is my universal translator.
Unfortunately, so far it only translates into an|incomprehensible dead language.
- Hello.
|- Bonjour.
Crazy gibberish! - Don't you have worthwhile inventions?|- Why, certainly! Step over here.
These are the dark-matter engines|I invented.
They allow my starship to travel|between galaxies in mere hours.
That's impossible.
You can't go faster|than the speed of light.
Of course not.
That's why scientists|increased the speed of light in 2208.
Also impossible.
And what makes my engines truly|remarkable is the afterburner which delivers 200-percent|fuel efficiency.
That's especially impossible.
Not at all.
It's very simple.
Then explain it.
Now that's impossible! It came to me in a dream|and I forgot it in another dream.
Your explanations are pure|weapons-grade bologn-ium.
It's all impossible! Nothing's impossible|if you can imagine it.
That's what being a scientist|is all about.
No, that's what being|a magical elf is all about.
Oh, my God! It's Elzar, the TV chef! Kill me now, people! - How we doing here?|- Elzar, everything's so good! Are you an ass-kissing machine? Yes, sir! Good one, sir! It's a gem of an evening.
I feel so wonderful having someone|to take over my life's work.
And it's all thanks to Qbert.
Look, I may be identical to you|in every possible way but that doesn't mean|I'm anything like you.
I don't want to be an inventor.
I want to be something useful,|like a teacher's aide or a prison guard|or a science-fiction cartoon writer.
But what about my hopes|and my dreams and my wonderful inventions? In your life, your only half-decent|invention was me.
And I didn't turn out|like you wanted either.
- You folks still doing all right?|- Oh, yes, Elzar.
Turns out I forgot|to cook that chicken.
Bad news, everyone.
By the time you Watch this tape,|I'll be gone leaving behind only a history|of failure and my original hipbones.
You see, I've been lying about my age.
|I'm not actually 150.
I'm 160.
Oh, vanity, thy name|is Professor FarnsWorth.
And noW that I have|nothing to live for l've alerted the Sunset Squad|robots to take me aWay.
Goodbye, cruel world! Goodbye, cruel lamp.
Goodbye, cruel velvet drapes lined with what appears to be|some sort of cruel muslin and the cute little pompon|curtain pull cords cruel though they may be And noW that I have|nothing to live for l've alerted the Sunset Squad|robots to take me aWay.
I knoW you're all upset,|especially Bender.
Well, life goes on.
Except for you! I'm sure he's just made|a cutting remark but he doesn't knoW I taped over|his soap operas to record this.
You bastard! We've got to get him back! lmpossible.
No one knows|where they take them.
Nothing's impossible! You'd know that if you really|took after him, like I do.
You're his uncle, dummy.
|He takes after you! Yeah, well, what? Wait a second!|That means I also take after you! I think I know how to find him.
Lay it on us, big boots.
If this can pick up his odor,|we may have a chance to save him.
I think not.
As you probably don't know odors are made up of particles|that can't travel through space.
I'm zeroing in on him.
BENGAY.
Mothballs! Letters to the editor!|It's the professor! To the flying machine! To the left! No, to the up! U-turn! We'll never find this place.
|Robots are good at keeping secrets.
No, we're not, you little bed wetter.
|Sorry.
There it is! The Near-Death Star! We'll say the professor escaped|and we're bringing him back.
Fry, dress up like a 160-year-old man.
I'm on it.
My God the illusion is so perfect I almost|forgot I was looking at an idiot! They may ask for a DNA sample.
I'd like to see them find it.
This plan is impossible.
We don't|even have a sample of his DNA.
I think I know where to get some.
Why do I have to be the hump? Because you're too ugly to be a wart.
Your Medicare dollars at work.
Halt! Identify this guest.
This is Professor Hubert Farnsworth.
|He escaped.
Escaped? No one escapes.
This guest does not look 160.
What? I'm old.
Listen.
Hey, you kids! Get off the lawn! Old people are often concerned that|there are children on their lawns.
No denying that.
But we'll need to|verify his identity with a DNA sample.
Got a hot, steaming batch right here.
We only needed one cell.
Keep the change, buddy! Stupid robot.
- Did your hump just say something?|- I've got "talking hump syndrome.
" Ah, T.
H.
S.
Identity confirmed.
Return this|shambling shuffleboarder to his room.
- Sounds nice.
|- Prepare to be surprised.
So this is where they stick|old people! It's horrific! It does keep them from driving.
Brace yourself for the worst.
- And yet he looks so natural.
|- What's happening? He's hooked up to life support.
|We have to disconnect him carefully or the shock could kill him.
Freeze! Seize them! Get them! I mean, seize them! Oh, I'm so bad at this.
We'll probably make it,|but we might not! - It's impossible! We'll never fit!|- Will too! Told you.
Come on, Leela! Step your big boot|down on the gas pedal! - They've blown out one of our engines!|- Fix it! Fix it! Fix it! Fix it! Fix it! Only the professor knows how.
|We have to wake him up.
Try shocking him! Your social security check is late! Stuff costs more than it used to! Young people use curse words! Damn, we'll have to fix it ourselves! We can't, you bastard! No one knows how it works!|It's impossible! Nothing is impossible!|I know how the engines work now.
It came to me in a dream.
The engines don't move|the ship at all! The ship stays where it is, and the|engines move the universe around it! That's a complete load.
Nothing's a complete load.
|Not if you can imagine it.
That's what being a scientist|is about.
Right, professor? Let's ride.
Good neWs, everyone! He's completely recovered.
- All right!|- Yeah.
I'm as spry as a 140-year-old.
See? I only broke one ankle.
What happened to you in the drawer? I was hooked up to a bizarre virtual|world that seemed absolutely real.
- What was it like?|- I was at a facility in Florida with hundreds of other old people.
All day we'd play bingo, eat oatmeal|and wait for our children to call.
It's more horrible than anything|I could imagine.
Oh, my, yes.
|Thank you all for saving me.
Especially you, my little clone.
No matter what you decide to do with|your life, I'm still proud of you.
I've already decided.
Dad, when I grow up|I want to be just like you.
Oh, don't worry, son.
You will.
Incidentally, read up on the condition|known as wandering bladder.
Why? No reason.
No reason at all.