Futurama s04e11 Episode Script

Welcome back.
Our next guest has taught|the World to cook for over 20 years.
But apparently my Wife hasn't|been listening.
- Funny.
|- I Will destroy her! And noW, extend a formulaic greeting|to master chef Elzar.
So, What Will you be cooking for Morbo|to devour With his mighty jaWs? I'm gonna Whip you up a nice,|unnameable horror from beyond With mango chutney.
Pathetic humans,|prepare to Write doWn the recipe! What's with the pots and pans?|Building a wife? Part of one.
Meantime, I'm cooking up|a tasty Sunday brunch for my friends.
Brunch.
Right.
I'd better warn-|Tell- Warn-tell the others.
Okey-dokey.
Nice.
Yes.
It's a perfect scale model|of the universe's largest bottle.
I put a tiny spaceship inside|to keep it from being boring.
- Oh!|- Get! For the last time, Zoidberg look with your eyes,|not your claws! Brace yourselves.
|Bender is making us brunch.
Oh, boy!|- Oh, God, my tract! He's proud of his cooking.
|If we don't eat, he'll be crushed.
Don't panic.
If we can get to the ship,|we'll fly north and hide under the polar icecaps.
Good idea!|What's the holdup? Fleeing somewhere? With you blocking the only|escape route? Don't be silly.
In that case, brunch is served.
Let's|go, move it out! Stop crying, Leela.
- Zoidberg, are you coming?|- Sure.
Me.
- I don't want you touching that thing!|- I know that.
Surrender your mysteries to Zoidberg.
Oh, no, professor will hit me! But if|Zoidberg fixes it, then perhaps gifts.
Oh! Ow.
What? I've personalized each of your meals.
For example, Amy, you're cute,|so I baked you a pony.
Come on, eat!|I slaved all day over a filthy stove.
This is terrible! Good thing I secretly installed|this wormhole in the table.
- Where does the other end come out?|- You know, I'm not quite sure.
Dear me.
The pie is ready.
|You guys like swarms of things, right? Casual hello.
It's me, Zoidberg.
|Act naturally.
Ouch! Ouch! Oh! Ah! Oh! Get off of me! Stop! How interesting, Dr.
Zoidberg.
|Do go on.
Check out the palm tree.
|It gets sick when I cook brunch.
How's that for coincidence, professor,|with all your precious science? I don't want to hurt his feelings,|but this tastes better as vomit.
It's unbearable.
What would it cost|to get my tongue removed? And this time I mean it! Who am I kidding? It was stupid|of me to dream of becoming a chef.
I don't have what it takes,|and nothing can change that.
Then it's settled.
|Elzar will teach me to cook! Absolutely not.
- But I watch your show.
You owe me.
|- I owe you nothing! One, your antenna's in my crotch.
|Also, I hate you.
And finally, you can't cook for squat.
- What was the first one?|- I hate you.
- I thought that was number two.
|- I knocked it up a notch.
Bam! I'll never recombobulate this ship.
When the professor finds out,|he'll tear me a new cloaca! Wait.
What would the robot do? Frame someone.
What up? I'm Walking on sunshine It's over.
My dream of being a chef|is deader than the cat I'm sitting on.
Gus, let's give a friendly welcome|to this new robo.
- What did you call me?|- A "robo".
You know, a robot hobo.
- Okay.
I thought you said "romo.
"|- No offense intended, my filthy friend.
In fact, why not join us|and ride the space rails? Get ready.
We's gonna jump off|at that switching prism.
We're going nearly the speed of light,|so roll when you land.
Ow! Welcome to Bumbase Alpha,|biggest hobo jungle in the quadrant.
I've seen bigger.
|Wait, I'm thinking of Eugene, Oregon.
Wait, a pie with hobo-lifting aroma?|Who baked it? Helmut Spargle.
|He used to be the greatest chef.
His restaurant was so high-toned,|to get reservations you had to create a parallel|universe, where you had reservations! I once ate there, back|when I was a senator.
Yo, Spargle, if you're such a great|cook, how'd you end up in this dump? Ages ago, I was the host of a TV show: Down-Home Country Kitchen|with Helmut Spargle.
One day, the Extreme Soda Company|that sponsored the shoW - decided it Was too old-fashioned.
|- Spargle, you're fired.
We need a chef who attracts a younger,|more extreme cooking-show viewer.
- Elzar!|- Get lost, old man.
- Bam!|- Mein soufflì! Elzar had been seduced|by the dark side of cooking.
Cilantro, mango salsa,|raspberry vinaigrette.
That twizzler.
As for me, I went temporarily insane|and wound up here making pies out of shoes.
My story's like yours,|only interesting.
It involves robots.
That jerk, Elzar, ruined my dream|of being a chef too.
Interesting.
You wish to cook, but as|a robot, you have no sense of taste.
It's so unfair.
|I have eight other senses but I'd trade them all,|even smision, to be able to taste! Without the distraction of taste your mind is free to touch|the Zen of pure flavor.
- You could be the greatest chef!|- I could? Just as Beethoven was a great composer|because he was deaf! Or how Rembrandt was blind|and had wooden hands! Bender, hear me well.
|I shall train you.
First, forget everything|you know of cooking.
Done.
Wow.
That's right, Ricardo.
|A ship in a bottle.
What's that?|Well, hang on, I'll look.
I've gathered|you in the accusing parlor because one of you is|a miniature-ship wrecker.
I'm acting astonished.
Certain clues suggest the culprit is|none other than our own Philip J.
Fry.
- What?|- It was a brilliant scheme but you made one fatal mistake:|leaving this confession note! - Scoundrel.
|- I don't remember any of that but I can't defend myself.
I have no choice but to charge you|the full cost of the materials.
$10.
00.
There you go.
What have I done? Your training is complete,|little dessert spoon.
Just as he who wishes to be world|chess champion must win at least one game of chess, so must|you serve at least one edible meal.
Succeed and I shall reveal to you the age-old secret|of perfect flavor.
- Slop's on.
|- Fine-looking eats.
- It is acceptable.
|All right! Another thing I'm great at!|Wait, why'd you stop eating, master? Because my stomach|is about to explode.
- What? My dinner killed you? Man!|- It hurts.
Stay confident.
The important thing|is, you defeat Elzar after I am gone.
And using this, you cannot fail.
A diamond vial of Mrs.
Dash? No, it is the essence of pure flavor.
A few drops will cause the inner|perfection of any dish to blossom forth.
Oh! There goes my life! I'll avenge you, master! I swear, in the presence|of these drunken bums that I shall defeat Elzar! I'm not drunk.
I'm mentally ill.
|But I likes what, what you said.
Elzar, I'm a walking pile|of your unfinished business! - Why, you-|- Helmut Spargle has a message for you! He says, "I'm dead.
" Spargle? What'd he do,|bland himself to death? No, he was eating some food I made and|by coincidence, his stomach exploded.
Now I'm here to avenge him! - Seems you're the one who killed him.
|- Maybe so, but you're his sworn enemy! I challenge you to a battle|of the chefs! Scandalous! We'll meet on the ancient televised|battleground of Kitchen Coliseum.
Whosever meal is best|will claim the title of Iron Cook.
Iron Cook? I can't lose.
|I'm 30%%% iron.
You're going down! Also, I had a reservation for one,|under Dr.
Bender.
Welcome the superintendent|of Kitchen Coliseum, Chairman Koji! No robot chef has competed here.
But today, one has barged his Way in|to challenge for the title of: Iron Cook! Yeah, you show him! Meet our celebrity judges.
- Globetrotter Ethan "Bubblegum" Tate.
|- KonnichiWa, brother.
TV anchor-monster Morbo.
|- Greetings, pathetic host.
A woman who ended a|galactic war with apple dandies - Martha Stewart's head.
|- The secret is fresh pork.
Koji Will present the theme|ingredient to be used in every dish.
If it's chicken, chicken á la king.
|Fish, fish á la king.
Turkey, fish á la king.
Soylent Green! A classic ingredient of|gourmet cooking.
And the battle is on.
- What's Elzar making?|- Well, Hiroki-san, when I asked him he asked what it was to me and|conjectured my mother was a prostitute.
In the countryside, prostitutes|decorate rooms with festive gourds.
Thirty minutes to go.
Look at him roll dough! I've never seen such|powerful strokes of the ass.
- You've never seen mine.
|- No, I haven't.
Fifteen minutes remaining.
He's bringing|in his signature creation a Working pastry|replica of doWntoWn Venice.
Commemorative turkey basters.
|Get your commemorative basters.
Yo, hook me up.
My turkey is dry,|and I've tried everything.
Right.
Never mind.
The guilt.
The unbearable guilt! Fifteen seconds.
Bam! Ten seconds.
Master Spargle, if you can hear me|up in that ditch, where I left you this is for you.
Time up! He's gone all out for the judges.
He's even garnished the salad With|$100 bills.
Let's see What they think.
Mmm Soylent Green|is my kind of people.
Scrumptious.
Morbo will store this|in his sack for future digestion.
I'm swimming in my Soylent waste.
|It's a good thing.
Next up, Bender,|a student of legendary Helmut Spargle Bender is some sort|of Wonderful mechanical man.
Ooo Delicious.
This food looks kind of funky,|but it tastes kind of funk-ay! The challenger's ugly food shows|even hideous things can be sweet on the inside.
Now judgment.
|The winner will be the new Iron Cook.
The loser is doomed to scrub.
Whose confection achieves perfection?|Whose foodstuff will be the good stuff? Challenger Bender! That's my robot! I own him! - You honor me, Chairman Koji.
|- Domo arigato, Mr.
Roboto.
Chairman-san,|I came here with one goal: To humiliate Elzar in a large|stadium.
I believe I've done that.
No question.
But the true Zen of flavor|is not found in a coliseum.
It is found in a small kitchen|with friends.
So I decline the title of Iron Cook and accept only the lesser title|of Zinc Saucier, which I just made up.
Also, it comes with double prize money.
Wait.
Everyone must know.
|I broke the professor's bottled ship! And what is worse,|I framed my dearest friend, Fry! I can never repay him his $10, so I|must take the only honorable path what with the killing myself.
Here I go already! - Huh?|- Oh! That sword cost $5000! And that's how I defeated Elzar,|thanks to Spargle's magic liquid.
Yes, we were there,|and we just watched it again on TV.
Let me see that vial, Bender.
Good Lord!|According to the spectrolizer Spargle's magic ingredient was water!|Ordinary water.
No! So the real gift Spargle gave you|was the confidence to be your best.
Yes, ordinary water, laced with nothing|more than a few spoonfuls of LSD.
The important thing is, by my|standards, I won fair and square.
Now, who wants brunch|cooked with plenty of "confidence"? - I'm in!|- I do!