Futurama: Into the Wild Green Yonder Page #3

- This the first tee.|- Where's the hole?

On Pluto's moon, Hydra.

It's a six-billion-mile par-two.|Tough shot, even for a man.

Around the sun.|Bank off Jupiter.

And right into the...

I'll be right back.

It dropped in!|Put me down for a two.

Two.

Keep in mind,|that just the first hole.

For full course, we gonna bulldoze|this entire arm of the Milky Way.

What? You're gonna wipe out 10%|of the galaxy for a stupid golf course?

First of all, it 12%.|Second, yes, you betcha.

But you have no idea what life|forms might be evolving out there.

That's exactly why|I'm hiring an impartial scientist

to perform an environmental survey.|That's him in the money shower.

Delivery boy's log. Having fallen|asleep on what I thought was the toilet,

I awoke to find|the environmental survey in progress.

- Status reports, Science Officer.|- Zilcho. No sign of life or intelligence.

Just like Fry on a date.

Hey!

Okay, so we haven't|found any life yet.

I still don't see why you men can't be|happy with regular-sized miniature golf.

Leela, evolution has|programmed our fabulous male brains

to take anything anybody else thinks|is important and make it bigger.

Have you seen my new 301-inch TV?

Hypnotoad is brought to|you by the MagnaPhallix 302-inch TV.

It's bigger!

Oh, hell!

Captain, I'm detecting|life on the spock-o-scope!

It's amazing. It's like|a textbook on evolution.

Except in Kansas.

But isn't Mr. Wong|building the 18th hole here?

And the golf pants museum?

Indeed so. This whole|area will be incinerated

when he implodes that|sun there into a black hole.

That beautiful violet star?

It's so you can't keep|your ball at the end of the game.

Yo, that's messed up.

Well, there won't be any imploding once|they read our environmental review.

- Right, Professor?|- Twaddle-squat.

There's no scientific|consensus that life is important.

Yeah. Life, schmife.

Approved for demolition.

It's you and me, ponytail.

We're here, Mr. President.

Let's play some mini-golf.

Now, just give it a light tap, Agnew.|No, no, no, just a light...

Now for a triple clam dip, with a double...

Ow!

Tough luck, Agnew. Looks like you|and Wong owe me a Charleston Chew.

- Shut up and hear our wisdom.|- Shut up and hear our wisdom.

- Save the ecosystem.|- Save the ecosystem.

Shut up and hear|our wisdom! Save the ecosystem!

What gives, Wong?|You said no chicks allowed.

We are the Greenorita|Eco-Feminist Collective,

and we will not let you...|What was it again?

We will not let you implode|the violet dwarf star

at galactic coordinates|167.84, -58.03, mark 948.

Already approved, you cackling hens.

So get out, or I'll have vice-president|Agnew's headless body throw you out.

I'd like to see him try.

Me, too. Should look funny.|Sic 'em, Agnew.

Runaway golf cart!

Look out, Agnew!

- Whoa!|- Aah!

Is he okay?

No pulse.

They killed the headless|remains of Agnew. Arrest them!

All feministas|she-vacuate the premises.

I mean "femises. "

My fellow Earthicans,

these eco-crooks will|face the maximum sentence.

For killing a headless|torso, that's six weeks.

Well, this is embarrassing.

Here I've been blabbing on|for years about killing all humans,

and who actually does|something about it? Some chick.

Leela's not a killer,|and she's not some chick.

She's the chick I love.

And don't tell her|I called her a chick, or she'll kill me.

Everyone stay absolutely quiet!

- That thing's on.|- Turn it off!

Oh, sorry.

How do you turn it off?

There. Did that do it?

No. Stop it. Shut up.

Here's the button here.

And I think I... Now I got it.

Let me give you a hand.

This is awful.

I never meant for our protest to|have any effect. Now what do we do?

Maybe we should just surrender|and serve our six weeks in jail.

Hey, yeah! We could do each|other's toenails and make shivs.

That's crazy.|We've done nothing wrong,

other than killing and|dismembering the vice-president.

We need to make a choice, sisters.

We can either keep pestering criminals|like Leo Wong with silly slogans...

- Yeah.|- Let's do that.

Actually, I meant that to be|the less preferable alternative.

We can either chant slogans|or we can take action.

What was the first choice again?

I choose to save the environment by|sabotaging Leo Wong's golf course.

Who's with me?

Could we still use our bullhorns?

Absolutely.

Bullhorns are a core|principle of eco-feminism.

Then I'm in.

Uh, take that

Yeah, yeah

Uh-huh, uh-huh, yeah

Izzy, Izzy, ah|Zizah, zizah, zizah

Girls be talkin'|Like they all rah, rah

Who's ready to kick|some sweaty man-butt?

I've got my pointy|man-kicking shoes on.

Those are cute.

Aren't they?|I got them at Nine West.

Simmer down, warriors.|Full power to the vagyroscope!

Those dirty rings.

I tried soaking them out,|even blasting them out.

Are you sure about this?

It would be better for propaganda|if we weren't using refined sugar.

It's okay. The potato we're|shoving in the tailpipe is organic.

I smell sabotage.

And potatoes.

Now, unfortunately, the media is|going to put a negative spin on this,

like when we killed that guy,

so to win public support,|we'll need a lovable mascot.

Squirm all you want,|you nasty dumpling.

One less species for the universe,|one more breakfast for...

- Zoidberg?|- Leela.

Me saving things the leech.|Not the eating of it.

Zoidberg, I'm very surprised|at you, slightly.

- Psst! Leela.|- Shh! I'm a fugitive.

I know. I miss you so much, Leela,|even more than when you were here.

I miss you, too, Fry.

And you probably think|what I'm doing is wrong.

But it's something|I really care about...

You don't have to explain, Leela.

You're you.|That's all I need to know.

Goodbye, sweet goofbag.

I'll miss her, too, buddy.

- Dibs on her iPod.|- Dibs on...

Hey, Fry! Long time, man.

Hey, Hutch! What have you been up to?

Same old, same old.|Searching the dumpsters,

protecting my thoughts|with tin foil, peeing myself.

So, what brings you to Earth?

It's top secret. Hey, take off|your helmet and I'll think it to you.

Okay. Here goes.

Where are you? And me?

The Great Hall of|the Ancient Legion of Madfellows.

Welcome, bro.

- Welcome, bro.|- Welcome, bro.

Sorry I bashed your|head in, buddy, but I had to.

You see, the fate of the|universe depends on you.

- Yeah, I get that a lot.|- The Grand Curator will tell you more.

Take me to him.

- Hey, man.|- Hey.

So dig this, Fry.

Our commune has been|monitoring the universe's life energy

for, like, a really long time,|and we're grokking some super weird junk.

I don't mean to be rude, but it's|kind of hard to take you seriously

when you say junk|like "grok" and "junk. "

- What about "commune"?|- Especially "commune. "

Come on, it's the fate of|the universe, puff it up a little.

Like you could say|your ancient order is sensing

deep upheaval in the|cosmic life energy field.

Okay. I'll try. So, like,|a really, really long time ago...

Eons ago!

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