Futurama s05e03 Episode Script

The Route of All Evil Ah, beer.
So many choices.
And it makes so little difference.
How about Lobrau? It has dots on it.
Overruled! The choice of champions is Pabst Blue Robot.
I can't drink that.
The metaI shavings make my throat bloody.
Baby wants a Zima.
Hey, hey.
We can all fight when we're drunk.
Listen, why don't we just brew our own beer? You can brew your own beer? Sure.
The kids at the orphanarium used to do it all the time.
Cursed bacteria of Liberia! My own son, suspended from boarding schooI.
- It's not my fault, Dad.
- And you, Cubert.
I cloned you from one of my warts, and I can send you straight back there.
What's going on? Is this angry yelling, or busted-hearing-aid yelling? - I'm afraid it's both.
- What? Now, hold on.
Everyone cooI your daiquiris.
Let's give the little vermin a chance to explain themselves.
It was self-defense, Mom.
Just look at this letter the principaI sent.
We were in science class and we had finished building a miniature black hole.
- That was easy.
- Pretty scrawny black hole.
It must be hungry.
- Black holes don't need food.
- Neither do nerds.
My Manwich! That's it.
You've compressed our lunches to a singularity for the last time.
Salt him, Dwight.
When I re-solidify, I'm gonna put you in a world of goop.
See? That bully started it.
We couldn't fight back with brawn - so we used our brains.
- I warned you not to use those things! Let's see.
We've got our malt.
Our hops.
We just need a big disposable tub to mix it in.
Now it needs to boiI for a couple hours.
- Dwight, you remember the crew? - Yeah.
- Crew, you remember Cubert? - Yeah.
WonderfuI! Then I'm sure you won't mind being their legaI guardians for a month.
Well, well, if it isn't my old friends, Stretch Pants, No Pants and Idiot.
- We're making beer.
I'm the brewery.
- I heard alcohoI makes you stupid.
- No, I'm Doesn't.
- Actually, Dwight, you're right.
AlcohoI is very, very bad.
For children.
But once you turn 21 it becomes very, very good.
So scram.
- Oh, man.
- I'm sick of this.
Hey, Dad.
What useless contraption are you half-baking today? You what? Oh, this is my latest invention.
A device that lets anyone sound exactly like me.
Good news, everyone.
I'm a horse's butt.
I am? That's not good news at all, you little What's this device's marketability? Who's the target consumer? There is no target consumer.
Only targets.
Targets that will tremble in fear as their new masters hand down edicts in my glorious, booming voice! Now quit pestering me, you confounded scoundrels! - Can I collate that? - No.
- Can I shred these contracts? - No! Wow! A power stamper.
Now look at all the work I gotta do! The ingredients are cooked.
They picked up some of your naturaI robot flavorings.
Time to add the yeast.
Yeast? You mean I'll have a life form growing inside me? It's so beautifuI.
- Talk to me.
- This is Professor Farnsworth.
I have an important delivery for you and your dumb crew.
You must deliver a pizza to Dog Doo 8 a planet at the edge of the universe.
Sorry I can't come to say goodbye, but I'm busy inventing useless junk.
And I smell bad.
If you were my kids, you'd get quite a talking to.
From your father.
When he got home from the Senate.
Oh, bother.
What have they done now? Those pork dumplings sent us on a fake pizza delivery.
The address was on Dog Doo 8.
But the universe ends right after Dog Doo 7.
- Child-man, is this true? - Yeah.
But why are you mad at us? Your dummy brigade wasted a week on an obviously fake mission.
Plus, they're making bootleg beer inside company property.
Lies! Lies and slander! Accusing gentle Bender of a misdeed? That's the last straw! You boys have been underfoot long enough.
You jerked the words right out of my mouth.
We're their fathers, and it's high times we acted like it.
Here comes violence.
Get a job, you lazy kids.
I guess if you want children beaten, you have to do it yourself.
Come on, Dad.
Shuffle faster! You don't wanna miss the unveiling of our company.
Company? Cute.
What'll you peddle? Lemonade? Shoeshines? Cootie insurance? Perhaps they've constructed a teddy bear hospitaI.
Actually, we're starting a competing delivery company.
Welcome to the world of business.
Who's going to use a delivery service with a kicked sign? - Nobody, that's who.
- We already have a client signed up.
We're delivering the Daily Supernova.
So your delivery company is just a cute, harmless paper route.
No.
It's a serious business.
Yes.
It's a tremendous responsibility, all right.
What if a paper were to land in a puddle? Civilization as we know it might get splashed.
Why do they always treat us like dumb kids? We're practically old enough to find the Fox Network infantile.
We'll show them.
AII Awesome Express needs is a sturdy interstellar delivery craft.
Voilá! You got a quarter? Man! The ad said to allow four to six seconds for delivery.
More like seven.
I'm really starting to swell up with beer.
I must look ridiculous.
No.
You have a healthy glow.
- Oh, my God! I just felt it ferment.
- Let me feeI.
Have you thought about a name? I was thinking Benderbrau if it's an ale Botwiser if it's a lager.
I hope it's a lager.
I can take it to a ball game.
I felt that one! There's a crack in the hull here.
That could cause explosive decompression.
Put a sticker on it.
Off on your first delivery? You be carefuI, my little tinkler.
Remember we used to call you that, huh? Tinkler.
Gets moving.
Those newspapers won't deliver themselves.
Only the Sunday edition can do's that.
Goodness, there must be 50 papers in that bundle.
- That's a big number, 50.
- Yeah.
If you're an idiot.
- Three, two, one.
- All systems go.
Blastoff! - See you at din-din.
- I'm blowing you a kiss.
Take evasive action! It's closing in.
You can't avoid it.
It's a cheek-seeker.
And Got you! No! Business is down, so I filed papers to have you all reclassified as slaves.
Well, well, if it isn't our little munchkin moguls.
What's the trouble, men? Need some penny rolls for your profits? Actually, thanks to Dwight's brilliant accounting and my unaccountable brilliance our paper route now has over a million customers! We're finally making more money than you guys.
Aren't you impressed now, Pops? Aren't you? Aren't you? In a small way, yes.
You still don't have your own building or conference table or one of those things.
Hello.
Our dads are never impressed, no matter what we do.
Maybe we should start a fire.
If we really want to impress them, we'll have to crush them with strategy.
Dwight Lightning.
Very well.
But I get to name the next strategy.
This week on The ReaI World - The Sun: I'm burning to death! You know how much an apartment that big would cost on the sun? People! As you know, our young sons have become great successes in the very same field as us.
- Oh, that's great! - That's good.
Naturally, we're humiliated.
That's why we need you, our loyaI crew to make Planet Express We'll start by slashing salaries.
And this time, I mean really slashing.
Guys? I don't know how to tell you this so I'll just let Fry blurt it out thoughtlessly.
We don't work for you anymore! - What? - Dwight and Cubert made us an offer.
- We're paperboys now.
- Incoming! We've got papers to stuff, team.
Hut-two.
Hut-two.
- Yes, sir.
- We're on it, Mr.
Farnsworth.
Folks? The situation is grim.
But we shall prevaiI, thanks to you, our crack team of loyaI dregs.
- I don't even know who this guy is.
- I'm Scruffy, the janitor.
Of course you are.
Now, we've got to buckle down and save Planet Express.
I'm on break.
Sorry to interrupt this whirlwind of activity, but we have an announcement.
I direct your attention to the forms which I'm presently engaged in handing you.
Sweet guinea pig of Winnipeg! They've taken over our company.
Balderdash! I never agreed to that.
No.
But you did declare yourself dead three years ago as a tax dodge.
Tax dodge, nothing! You take one nap in a ditch at the park and they start declaring you this and that.
Either way, I technically inherit your building and your spaceship.
Which means Planet Express is now Awesome Express.
You rotten kids! - Will you be hiring? - No.
You rotten kids! There.
One million papers, folded and loaded.
Leela, help me apply these flame decals I got in my cereaI.
They'll make the ship go faster.
And what's your scientific basis for thinking that? I'm 12.
Did I ever tell you how I used to own that ship? There but for the grace of God.
Oh, my God! I think it's time! Hurry, Leela! Get some coasters and cold mugs.
Push, Bender! Push! You're doing great.
Oh, it feels like it's trying to push a waterbed out of me.
Almost there.
Just two more bottles.
Is it okay? I can't hear anything.
It's an ale.
Five gallons, six ounces.
Hey, what's going on? This is a delivery company, not a delivery room.
We busted our buns delivering a million papers and this is how you greet us? With a bunch of frosty cold beers? Hey, wait a second.
How did you deliver a million papers in one hour? We just did, okay? 'Cause we're awesome.
- Yeah.
Awesome.
- Yeah.
Awesome.
Hello, Awesome Express, the rude, crude delivery dudes.
How may I direct your call? What's that? You haven't gotten your paper? In how long? Might a homeless old man have a touch more beef bourguignon and another tequila slammer? - Please? - Don't you sweet-talk me - you wrinkly old tube sock.
- May I have one too, wife? You're both pathetic, being jealous of your own offspring.
Now, you should be happy that they became successes instead of following in your food stamps.
Oh, it's true.
But they grow up so fast.
We wanted a few more years of being better than them.
They're so stinking talented, they don't even need their fathers anymore.
- Dad! We screwed up.
- You did? Tough luck, suckers.
Help us, Pops.
We agreed to deliver way more papers than we could handle.
We couldn't handle them.
We dumped the extras in a crater on the moon.
Now everybody's yelling at us about their missing papers.
And we don't know what to do! Why did you boys do all this? - We wanted you to be proud of us.
- Proud of you? You ruined us with sleazy business practices and a complete disregard for human decency.
- Of course we're proud of you.
- Damn right, we are! Now, come on, let's go do a little father-son weaseling out of this.
Good thing I had this net installed for catching giraffes.
Okay, boys.
Let me show you how a paper man does it.
Au revoir! Can I use the gun, Dad? What kind of father would I be if I said no? Only one house to go.
We did it! Run away! That bully, Brett Blob, lives there.
He's ugly, mean, stupid, stink mucus! And last week, we sort of broke his window.
All right, all right.
What do we do when we break somebody's window? - Pay for it? - Oh, heavens, no! We apologize with nice, cheap words.
I thought I heard the doorbell.
But I see it was the "dork bell.
" You made a funny good one, Brett.
Now, now, no need to give us the business.
- We'd like a word with your daddy.
- Whatever.
Dad! Don't worry, boys.
I'm sure his father is a perfectly normaI, reasonable man.
What do you want? Mr.
Blob, our sons have come to apologize for damaging your window.
They've learned their lesson, and they want to make amends.
- Sorry, sir.
- Yeah, sorry.
You shove your apology into the bottom of your one-way digestive system.
Now, see here.
We assured our sons that you'd accept their apology.
Tell you what.
I'll accept their apology when they kiss my ass! Which I don't have.
- No one gives my boy that option.
- Bring it on, Jell-O pop.
- Yeah, get him, Dad.
- Show him who's boss.
- Get him, Pops.
- Right.
That was incredible! You are the bravest dads in the entire trauma center.
You guys almost had him, untiI he digested you.
Oh, you're good kids.
If I could feeI anything right now, it would be pride.
I was wrong! I can still feeI pain! He's come to finish the job.
Someone toss me out the window! No, no wait.
I feeI terrible about what happened.
I've just been under a lot of stress lately down at the plant, you know? They're bringing in computers to improve productivity and, well, that's no excuse for how I acted.
But the boy needs to see that reaI men solve their disagreements with words not violence.
So if you'll accept my apology well, I hope we can put this embarrassing incident behind us.
I suppose.
Hey, chumps.
I heard you were on the ass end of an ass-kicking.
I figured you could use a few of these.
Why not? Might as well live it up as long as I got this catheter in me.
Won't you join us, Mr.
Blob? Sounds like a plan.
This is what makes life worth clinging to.
Three fathers enjoying a day out with their sons.
It would seem we've taught our boys a lesson about life.
Man or blob, it's what's inside that counts.