03x12 - The Route of All Evil

[bunniefuu]

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 metal
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 school.

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 cool your daiquiris.

Let's give the little vermin
a chance to explain themselves.

It was self-Defense, Mom. Just look
at this letter the principal 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 boil for a couple hours.

Dwight, you remember the crew?
Yeah.

Crew, you remember Cubert?
Yeah.

Wonderful!
Then I'm sure you won't mind...

Being their legal 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 alcohol makes you stupid.

No, I'm... Doesn't.
Actually, Dwight, you're right.

Alcohol is very, very bad. For children.
But once you turn ...

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
natural robot flavorings.

Time to add the yeast.

Yeast? You mean I'll have a
life form growing inside me?

It's so beautiful.

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 ...

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 .

But the universe ends
right after Dog Doo .

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 v*olence.

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 hospital.

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.
All Awesome Express needs...

Is a sturdy interstellar delivery craft.

Voil?!

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 feel.

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 cr*ck in the hull here.

That could cause
expl*sive decompression.

Put a sticker on it.

Off on your first delivery?
You be careful, 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
papers in that bundle.

That's a big number, .
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 Real 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 loyal crew...

To make Planet Express
% more profitable.

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 prevail, thanks to you,
our cr*ck team of loyal 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 cereal.

They'll make the ship go faster.

And what's your scientific
basis for thinking that?

I'm .

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 g*n, 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 normal, 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,
until he digested you.

Oh, you're good kids.

If I could feel anything
right now, it would be pride.

I was wrong! I can still feel pain!

He's come to finish the job.
Someone toss me out the window!

No, no wait. I feel 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 real men
solve their disagreements with words...

Not v*olence.
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.