06x06 - Lethal Inspection

[bunniefuu]

I fear I may not survive
this w*r reenactment.

I can't believe we're only
12 feet from the parking lot.

This is every bit
as fun as the real Civil w*r.

Not the Civil w*r, Private.
We're reenacting the Sith-il w*r.

Sith? What the Hoth?

Enemy invaders! Up in yonder sky!

I am Darth Stroyer.

Darth Stroyer?
That's the stupidest name I've ever heard.

Let's hear the rest.

Darth Trocious.

Darth Sploder.

Darth Urderer.

Darth It-head.

Company, att*ck!

Don't fire until you see
the greens of their eyes!

It saves on b*ll*ts.

I shall rip out your heart
and show it to you.

It is done.

The candle that burns twice as bright
burns half as long.

You're dead.

No, I'm just very old.

Whoa. That's good acting.

It's payback time, Sploder.

Tell my mother to pick me up
outside Quiznos.

That's three dead.

Let's pick up the pace, people.

At this point in the actual w*r,
the death toll was 98 million.

You humans
and your fragile organs.

One little s*ab to the goo, and...

You're dead, Earth man.

Cruel fate, I'm dead.

They're putting me in my Sunday suit
and shoving me in a wooden box.

Now they're lowering me
into the cold, cold ground.

Hello, here come the worms.

If you were really dead,
you wouldn't be laughing so hard.

Yeah, death's a big deal to you flesh bags.

But in case you didn't notice, I'm a robot.

So? What if something heavy fell on you,
like a church?

You could still die.

Nuh-uh!

My wireless backup unit saves
a copy of me every day.

So, if my body gets k*lled, big whoop,
I just download into another body.

I'm immortal, baby.

What? Then how come you always scream
so much when you're in danger?

I never said I wasn't a drama queen.

And the winner of the w*r is...

Let me just cross-check
my tabulation here.

Factor in the corsages for the widows...

Hurry up,
you number-crunching crumb-nuncher!

Everybody but me is dying of old age!

Okay.

The winners, at a net cost of only $12
per life cut tragically short,

our Sith Overlords!

- Yeah!
- Yes!

Hot diggity.

I mean,
Supreme diggity.

Good w*r, good w*r, good w*r...

It may have been a fake w*r,
but my scuffed knee is all too real.

I've got pains in joints
I had removed a century ago.

Bender, bring me
my soft chair with the wheels on it.

- Your wheelchair?
- I don't need a wheelchair!

The one with the wheels!

Poor flimsy humans.

Don't you wish you were flawless like me?

A towering inferno of physical perfection?

I hate to pop your blimp-like ego,
but you are not perfect.

- Am so.
- Are not.

- Is too!
- Says who?

Says the only human
whose opinion I even remotely respect.

Inspector 5,
the best inspector a kid could want.

The day I was built, he looked me over,
probably with tears of pride in his eyes,

and proclaimed to all the world,
by means of this scrap of paper,

that I was
perfect and infallible in every way.

Hey, Mr. Perfect,

you wet the chair.

It wasn't me. Must be
some of that urine you're all so proud of.

That's not urine. It's oil.

Impossible. I'm triple-sealed to prevent
any chance of...

You call that an ink defense?

Goodbye, friends.

What could have caused the leak?

Excessive heat, on account of I'm so hot?

Alas, no.

Oh, Bender, I'm afraid it's
a symptom of a fatal defect.

Yeah, fatal, schmatal.

If I die, I can just
download my backup copy

into a new, equally fabulous body.

That's just it. You can't!
You were built without a backup unit!

There's no backup copy of me?

That's what I just said, you mortal coil.

So, if I die...

You die. Or as you put it...

Excuse me for a moment.

No!

I can't believe it! I'm gonna die!

How much time
does he have left, Professor?

Between a minute and a billion years.

Well, at least you can plan accordingly.

Dying sucks butt!

How do you living beings cope
with mortality?

- Violent outbursts.
- General sluttiness.

Thanks to denial, I'm immortal.

Damn it, I'm supposed to be perfect!

Inspector 5 gave me his blessing!

How could he bring me into this world
knowing I would die?

So you wish you were never born, maybe?

Yes, anything less than immortality is
a complete waste of time!

Then su1c1de it is.

Step into my office.
I'll give you a nice Kevorking.

Not until I hunt down Inspector 5
and b*at an explanation out of him!

I'm all for a good b*ating,
but you'll never find him.

Product inspectors are bureaucrats,

faceless bean-counters
who blend into the woodwork.

I beg to differ.

Stinking bureaucrats. I hate them!

Then again,
you might be able to find Inspector 5

with the help
of another seasoned bureaucrat.

Hermes, old pal.

Old pal?
8.5 seconds ago, you said you hated me.

Time heals all wounds.

You know what? I will help you,

but only to prove
I'm not just a paper-pushing file jockey.

Will you be taking
your portable filing cabinet?

None of your beeswax.

I'll only be away an hour,
but I'm counting on you

to do the all-critical filing in my absence.

Shall we review alphabetical order?

A, B, C, D...

Get out of my office!

Yes, I'd like to request a death certificate.

Sorry, that's Building C.

The Central Bureaucracy
maintains records on all bureaucrats.

We should be able to look up Inspector 5.

Application for ingress approved.

And the other potential entrant?

- He's my pencil sharpener.
- You betcha!

Proceed.

I maintain a cubicle here
for weekend getaways.

Wow. Until now, I thought
giant cubes were exciting.

I did like the part where they screamed.

This is mine,
right next to the center square.

Sorry, Hermes, I drank all your Wite-Out.

Once I log in,
I can access Inspector 5's profile.

Damn it, it won't go on!

That's because you're not me.

Hooray, it won't go on!

The bureaucra-scan won't let anyone
but the assigned bureaucrat log in.

Also, you have a rectangular mass
in your colon.

That's a calculator.
I ate it to gain its power.

You locate Inspector 5
while I slip into my ass-kicking feet.

Sweet file-not-found
of Puget Sound.

His record's been blanked.

Oh, man!

How am I gonna find some anonymous
guy I don't know anything about?

I recommend the men's room
at the TWA Terminal.

Okay, just file it alphabetically.

A, B, C, D...

Well, this requires a little extra thought.

I'm a natural.

The information we need will be here,
in the physical files.

Those bastards won't know
what leafed through them.

It's on.

No! This is impossible!

Quit blacking out and look at this.

"Inspector 1, 2, 3, 4, 6."

There's no trace of Inspector 5!

But 5's the one we want!

Maybe if I kicked the asses of Inspector 2,
plus Inspector 3...

Addition never solved anything, man.

Let's cut our losses and go home.

So I'm doomed to die,

and I'll never even
get to punch whoever's responsible?

What's the point?

Bender, no!
su1c1de isn't necessarily the answer.

It's not a su1c1de booth, you lard-ass.
It's a phone booth.

They have phones in booths now?

Finally, I don't have to
lug this cell phone around.

Who the hell is this?
How did you get this number?

Is this the robot company?

'Cause I have a complaint
about a defective robot.

His name is me!

A defective robot, you say?

Stay right there, dearie.

I'll have tech support take care of you.

Well, things are starting to look up.

Look up!

Who did you call? Dial-a-b*mb?

No, I just told the robot company
I was defective.

You dumb cocktail shaker!

Mom won't allow a defective product
to tarnish her good name!

She'll k*ll you!

Big whoop. I'll just download into a new...

Oh, right. If I die, I die.

Speaking of which...

You're right. You're right. You're right.

That's what you get
for calling tech support.

I can't run anymore. I'll have to skip.

Just a few more feet.

We have to get to that pile of dead bears
by 7:38.

A pile of dead bears can
only mean one thing. But what?

It's the 7:38!

Jump!

sh**t!
- Someone said sh**t.

- Well, we're boned.
- No, we're not!

We just got to limbo.

But I'm not designed to bend that low,
not without limbo music.

That'll do it!

Ow! Ow! Ow!

- We're gonna get fired.
- Someone said fire.

- We did it!
- Twelve straight hours of limbo.

I haven't done that since my honeymoon.

Hermes, Hermes,
remember that flock of bats?

- I sure do.
- That was fun.

Where are we?

I have no idea.

Hey, we're just a stone's throw
from Tijuana.

See?

A rock has fallen here,
in the outskirts of Tijuana.

- Is it within the city limit?
- I think, yes.

Told you.

Hey, you want to celebrate our escape?

Maybe grab a sh*t of tequila
and take in a big-league cockfight?

Sure. No, wait. I was built in Tijuana.

Maybe Inspector 5 still works there.

He better do some explaining
before I mash up some face guacamole.

He's Mexican, I'm Mexican.
Let me handle this.

Si!

Ouch-o!

Here are our passports, visas,
and Homeland Security permission slips,

notarized and starched.

Okay. I also would have accepted a bribe.

Nice work, butterball.

You know, I was in
Italy last week.

My birthplace. It's closed!

There's not even a shrine to me.

With a gift shop, selling piñatas of me!

End of the line, man.

Come on, we can still catch
a twi-night double cockfight.

No, wait!
What's that in the Mexican garbage?

- Looks like a half-eaten cheese diaper.
- No, next to that.

A half-eaten employee directory.

Inspector 5's home address!

His ass-ias is gracias!

Where are you hiding, you coward?

Get out here and get m*rder*d like a man!

Bender, I'm afraid our search is at an end.
He's obviously long gone.

Oh, yeah?

Well, maybe this is him in a costume!

I'm gonna squeeze you out of there
like Tijuana toothpaste!

Okay, Bender, you're mortal.

And, okay, Inspector 5 screwed up.

But that just makes the time you have left
all the more precious.

Do you really want to waste the rest
of your life in a bitter, homicidal rage?

No! Yes!

I don't know!

Why? Why did he do this to me?

All I wanted was a little quality control.

But he didn't care enough.
And now I'm gonna die!

I deserve better! I'm Bender, damn it!

I'm Bender!

There, there, man. It's gonna be okay.

You are Bender, which is
something Inspector 5 will never be.

You know what? You're right.

He was just a stupid bureaucrat.

A stupid, paper-pushing bureaucrat.

A stupid l-dotting, chair-squashing...

Oh.

No offense, Hermes. You're not like that.

I mean, you're exactly like that,
but you're okay!

In fact, I'm putting you
on the do-not-k*ll list.

Come on, fellow mortal. We're in Tijuana.

I want to live a little.

Help! I'm gonna die!
That's the opposite of what I want!

Quick, run out the back!

I'll hack into Inspector 5's terminal
and fake your death,

so they'll call off the k*ll-bots.

You know that terminal is unhackable!

I'm not leaving you, and that's final!

Good luck, buddy.

Bender terminated.

Bender saved.

Cease fire. Mom called off the att*ck.

- Although I don't see how it's her.
- Someone said, "Howitzer!"

Yeah!

All right! Yeah!

He did it!

And he's not looking back
at that cool expl*si*n.

He's a hero!

What's happening?

The phone's been disconnected,
the ship's repossessed,

and Zoidberg's getting overcooked!

This place never changes.

Leela, what in the name of Jah happened?

Too much papers!
Not enough hiding plants!

It's all right.

This place just needs
a one-hour bureaucratizing.

You make it look so easy.

I've smoked a lot of paperwork in my day.

Hey, Bender, did you ever find
that inspector guy you were looking for?

Nah, but thanks to this knucklehead,
I did find a new outlook on life.

It's precious and sacred.

And you only get
so many millions of years on this Earth.

So, let's get brick-faced!

Little bird, little bird

Fly through my window

Little bird, little bird
Fly through my window

Little bird, little bird
Fly through my window

Find molasses candy

Through my window,
my sugar lump

Fly through my window,
my sugar lump

Find molasses candy

Chickadee, chickadee
Fly through my window

Chickadee, chickadee
Fly through my window

Chickadee, chickadee
Fly through my window

Find molasses candy

Through my window,
my sugar lump

Fly through my window,
my sugar lump

Find molasses candy