Futurama: Bender's Big Score Page #3

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We have a problem, Nudar.

It's a one-way time code.

It can take us to the past,

but it can't bring us back to the present!

Masters, if I might?

Let me do the stealing.

I'll go to the past and snatch everything

I can get my greasy mitts on.

Then, as a robot,

I can just wait it out for a few centuries

in the limestone cavern

beneath this building.

Oh, it'll be ever so much fun!

Hey, that's perfect.

We sit back and let

dumb-dumb here do the stealing.

Dumb-dumb away!

Zero, zero, one, one, zero, zero...

Yup!

The Mona Lisa!

Sorry, it's not quite finished.

Da Vinci give you any trouble?

Let's just say he may not

make it to The Last Supper.

Preposterous twaddlecock!

Time travel is impossible.

But, Professor, you time-traveled yourself.

Remember,

when we went back to Roswell?

That proves nothing.

And, furthermore, you'd think

I'd remember a thing like that.

Plus, who are you, anyway?

- Man, this is fun on a bun! Here I go again!

- Oh, no, you don't!

Zero, zero, one, one...

Scarab, forearm, bird, bird, bird.

No, it's just me, Bender.

I must tell you, Hedonismbot,

I hate to sell my doomsday devices

to a private collector.

But with my business stolen,

I have to make ends meet.

You will be careful?

I shan't touch them till I've had Jambi

lock the absinthe and ether away.

- Oh! What does this one do?

- That one kills everything everywhere.

How delightful. And this one?

Sir, the spheroboom is not for sale.

It's my sentimental favorite.

No need to explain.

I, too, have known unconventional love.

Perhaps you and I and Jambi

could get together

and compare notes sometime, eh?

Resulting in peace between

East and West Coast rappers...

Good God!

I accept this Nobel Peace Prize

not just for myself,

but for crime robots everywhere. Skoal!

Not so neutral now, are you, Sweden?

Be honest with me.

Does my eye look monstery?

I don't want to look monstery

for my date with Lars.

At least a monster has a body.

What I wouldn't give for Wolf Man's torso,

or any of the Groovie Goolies.

I think I'll wear that slutty dress

I've been saving for Easter.

I'd like to punch Lars right

in his ruggedly good-looking face.

Like all rich people, we're gonna need

weapons to shoot poor people.

- In self-defense?

- Yes, that, too.

Bender, go steal the doomsday device

chained to the professor's wrist.

Never!

I'm kidding. You guys know

I have to do whatever you say.

- Here, swap this for the real one.

- The old switcheroo.

Yes, but don't wake him.

You'll need jeweler's tools

and foot-cup silencers.

Hey. I don't tell you how

to tell me what to do,

so don't tell me how to do

what you tell me to do.

Bender knows when to use finesse.

- Here you go.

- Put it in the safe, clanky.

It's the damnedest thing.

There I was in the dumpster,

enjoying a moldy Fudgsicle,

when suddenly your hand flies

over and slaps me in the toches.

Yes, well, these things happen.

Fortunately, the spheroboom is still safe.

Scammed? Me? Sweetheart?

You do a nice hand job, Zoidberg.

Tell me, if I could find an undamaged body,

could you recapitate me?

Hermes, I'm a surgeon.

When I see two body parts,

I sew them together

and see what happens.

All I'm asking is for you to go back in time

to when I still had my body

and bring it back for me.

- What do I do with your old head?

- I don't care in the slightest.

Can do!

- Come on, man!

- Hermes, please!

You can't hurry

a delicate operation like this.

What are those?

You incompetent crab!

I thought you were happy.

Your tail was wagging.

I believe this paradoxicality

equation to be unsolvable.

Ergo, time travel is impossible.

But I can't quite prove it, Bubblegum.

Perhaps you and your razzle-dazzle

Globetrotter calculus could...

Looks pretty damn solvable to me, Farnsy.

Sweet Clyde, use variation of parameters

and expand the Wronskian.

Shizz, baby.

So paradox-free time travel

is possible after all.

Right on. But dig this multiplicand here.

The ''doom field''? That must be

what corrects the paradoxes.

But that mama rises exponentially.

It could rupture

the very fabric of causality.

That's what I've been trying to tell you.

Hermes! You got your body back.

Yes, but not the original.

Bender went back in time

and picked up a copy.

A copy? Funky cold medina!

According to this equation,

a time-travel duplicate

results in a complex denominator

in the causality ratio.

- Oh, snap! You know what that means.

- I can guess.

Actually, I can't guess.

Prof, you got a doom meter in this lab?

Good Lord, Bubblegum.

The duplicate body is emitting doom

at 10 times the background level.

I thought as much.

A duplicate body is always doomed.

It's just a matter of time.

I don't care. I just need it long enough

to bird-dog in and win LaBarbara back.

- Best bird-dog fast, my brother.

- That's the way I bird-dog best.

Drink, quick!

I can't balance it much longer.

Wait, I...

Yes!

Oh, this is so much fun, Lars.

Most men are intimidated by the fact

that I could kill them

with a flick of my wrist.

Well, not me, 'cause if you do,

you'll be stuck with the check.

Folks, you care for

a little fresh ground Executive?

Please.

Don't get excited, kids.

This thing's got heart-shaped nostrils.

Want to see it make a star?

- No!

- No!

Here's your Gutenberg Bible, masters.

Plus, the Colonel's secret recipe.

Well, that does it.

We've got every valuable object in history.

Now that I'm rich, I suddenly care

if the universe gets destroyed.

We can't use

that dangerous time code again.

Blank it from the robot's memory.

I'll vaporize this guy so his ass

doesn't fall into the wrong hands.

Why don't you just remove my tattoo?

Nice try,

but you might have memorized it.

No, I mightn't.

I can't even remember

my mother's maiden name.

It's Gleissner.

Stupid naked aliens. Stupid Lars.

I hate the future.

Man, that cube root was

a real buzzer-beater, Clyde.

Zero, one, one, one, zero, zero, one, one!

Blast him!

You missed. Oh, great master.

Hello, 2000.

I'm home.

Happy New Year, naked weirdo!

Happy New Year.

Well, we'll never know

where the ass guy went,

and since we can't kill him,

I say live and let live.

That's sweet, boss.

Fry'll be nice and cozy

back in the year 2000.

What? How do you know

he went to the year 2000?

That's where he always goes.

Better play it safe.

Go there a little earlier and wait for him.

You know what to do.

You want me to concludify him

like some sort of dispatcherator?

- Yes, and don't forget to terminate him.

- Got it.

Preparing to terminate Philip Fry.

What's with the doofy sunglasses?

It's really bright in the past.

Zero, zero, one, one, zero...

Okay, Fry. Come to papa.

Man, I'm bored.

Hey, there you are.

Oh, wait.

That's Fry before he goes to the future.

I'm waiting for the one

who comes back from the future.

Jeez, this is confusing.

And I bet it's gonna get

a lot more confusing.

That cheap beer

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