Futurama (1999–2013): Season 1, Episode 6 - A Fishful of Dollars - full transcript

I can't take it anymore!

They've been at it for hours!

Give it a rest, you two!

Sorry!

Good morning, class.

I trust you've all prepared
for today's final exam.

Uh, excuse me.

I missed a few lectures.

Uh, what subject is this?

Ancient Egyptian Algebra.

What a nightmare!



Mr. Fry,
are those your underpants?

Young man, I think it's time
you learned a lesson...

about Lightspeed brand briefs.

Lightspeed
fits today's active lifestyle...

whether you're on thejob...

or having fun.

Lightspeed Briefs...

Style and comfort
for the discriminating crotch.

Oh!

What a weird dream.

I'll never get back to sleep.

So, you're telling me they broadcast
commercials into people's dreams?

Of course.

But how is that possible?



It's very simple.

The ad gets into your brain...

just like this liquid
gets into this egg.

Although in reality...

it's not liquid,
but gamma radiation.

That's awful.

It's like brainwashing.

Didn't you have ads
in the 20th century?

Well, sure,
but not in our dreams...

only on TV and radio...

and in magazines...

and movies...

and at ball games...

and on buses...

and milk cartons
and T-shirts and bananas...

and written on the sky...

but not in dreams.

No, sirree.

Quit squawking, fleshwad.

Nobody's forcing you
to buy anything.

Yeah. I mean, we all had
commercials in our dreams...

but you don't see us running off
to buy brand-name merchandise...

at low, low prices.

Hi. Care to sample
the latest fragrance...

from Calvin Clone?

No, thanks.

And you, sir?

No, thanks. L...

What a lovely face.

We just need to
draw attention...

away from the eye area.

Cool.

Can I try these on
before I buy them?

I'm afraid I can't let
you open the package...

but you can try on
the demo pair.

Ooh.

Ho-ho-ho.

Hey, Bender.
Great new sweater.

Uh, "new"?
What sweater?

I came in with it!

I don't know you people.

$30, please.

$30? I can't afford that.

Unless...

Do you take Visa?

Visa hasn't existed
for 500 years.

American Express?

600 years.

Discover Card?

Mmm, sorry,
we don't take Discover.

Hey...

he's springing
for Lightspeeds?

- Pretty ritzy.
- No, I can't afford them.

Being poor sucks.

What kind of world is this...

where they advertise things
not everybody can afford?

Quiet. There's
an ad coming on.

Hello, shoppers.

It's me, Mom.

Hey, who's
the rocker jockey?

Guh! It's Mom...

the world's most huggable
industrialist.

Call me old-fashioned...

but when my robot
starts to squeak...

like an old screen door, well,
that's when I reach for a can...

of Mom's Old-fashioned
Robot Oil.

Ooh, tasty.

Mom's oil is made
with 10% more love...

than the next leading brand.

"Mom," "Love" and "Screen Door"...

are registered trademarks
of MomCorp.

Hey, Bender,
sounds like you...

could use a little
of that oil.

Hamboned.

Freeze, scuzzbot!

Uh, there's obviously been...

some sort of a mistake here.

I'm sure there's...

I say, I'm sure there's...

That is, I'm sure there's...

a very...

reasonable...

Do we have enough money
to pay Bender's fine?

78... 79... 79.50.

Crud. We're 50 cents short.

I'd love to chip in,
but Bender stole my wallet.

Hey, that's my old bank.

Maybe my account's still open.

Hmm. We don't seem
to have your retina scan...

your fingerprint or your
colonic map on file.

Yeah, well, I did open
the account...

over a thousand years ago.

What about my A.T.M. Card?

Do you still remember
your PI N number?

Sure. It's the price of
a cheese pizza and a large soda...

back where
I used to work...

Pinucci's Pizza.

Okay.
You had a balance of 93 cents.

All right.

At an average of 21/4
percent interest...

over a period of 1,000 years...

that comes to...

$4.3 billion.

To Fry.

I know Fry's rich...

but do we really have
to wear these top hats?

Maybe you don't understand
just how rich he is.

In fact, I think
I better put on a monocle.

Pizza dinner on me.

Just keep the tab
under $50 million.

Yo.
I haven't got all day.

What kind of pizza
yous guys want?

Uh, yeah, we'll have, uh, one
with everything but anchovies...

and, uh, one with
my all-time favorite topping...

Anchovies.

Invalid selection.

Yo, what are you talking about?

Anchovies. You know...

those little headless fish?

Does not compute.

Does not compute.

I'm sorry, Fry,
but the anchovy...

has been extinct
since the 2200s.

- What?
- Oh, my, yes, fished to death...

Just about the time
your people arrived on earth...

wasn't it, Zoidberg?

I'm not on trial here.

So none of you has
ever had anchovies?

Oh, man, you don't know
what you're missing.

They're all salty and oily,
and they melted in your mouth...

Stop! Stop!
I admit it.

My people ate them all.

We kept saying,
"One more can't hurt."

And then they were gone.

We're sorry!

I just wish I could
have showed you guys...

how great they were.

I may be rich, but I
still can't buy back...

all the things I miss
from the 20th century.

Maybe you're forgetting
just how rich you are.

Huh? Huh?

So, what do you think?

I know you spent a lot of money
on this place, Fry...

but it's awfully primitive.

The floors are made
of such hard wood.

Hey, get a load of this pathetic
20th-century TV.

What's wrong with it?

Well, aside from
causing eye cancer...

these things had a lousy,
low-definition picture.

That's true.

On a TV like this,
I bet you couldn't even...

make out my obscene tattoo.

That's cute.

Sold!

Yes!

I just don't get it.

Who was this Ted Danson...

and why would you pay
$10,000 for his skeleton?

I have an idea for a sitcom.

Ah, leave him alone, Leela.

So he's going a little wacko
with his money.

That's okay.

You're just saying that...

'cause he bought you
that antique robot toy.

Yeah.

It is cute.

Now, our final item:

This unopened can...

of Angry Norwegian brand
anchovies, circa 1997.

Anchovies?

The last known can
in existence...

guaranteed fresh and edible.

Do I hear $10,000?

$15,000.

20.

30. No, 40.

$50,000.

Are you crazy?

It's a can of old fish.

Don't tell me how
to spend my money.

50, going once, twice...

$75,000.

Oh, my God. It's Mom.

I've never seen her
in person before.

$100,000.

Fry, you can't
bid against Mom.

She's the richest...

most powerful
person in the world.

And she's so adorable.

Well, I suppose I could go
as high as... $300,000.

- 500.
- Mercy me... a million.

- Two.
- Six.
- Fourteen.

I can see the
nice young man...

really wants
those little fish.

Nevertheless,
I'll bid 23 million.

One jillion dollars.

Sir, that's not a number.

Oh. In that case...

50 million.

Well, boys...

your old mother knows
when she's been beat.

You win, young man.

I tip my bonnet to you.

Oh, isn't she adorable?

What a class act. Sold!

To the gentleman who
bought every item...

in today's auction.

Now for some good old
20th-century TV.

Ah.

Do you remember a time...

when chocolate chip cookies
came fresh from the oven?

Petridge Farm remembers.

Oh, those were the days.

Do you remember a time
when women couldn't vote...

and certain folk weren't allowed
on golf courses?

Petridge Farm remembers.

Fry, are you there?

Huh?

You haven't been to
work in three days.

What have you been doing?

I've been sitting right here.

I picked up my life
exactly where I left off...

a thousand years ago.

Now, if you'll excuse me?

It's 8:00, time to get busy.

# I like big butts
and I cannot lie #

# You other brothers can't deny #

You can't just
sit here in the dark...

listening to classical music.

I could if you hadn't
turned on the lights...

and shut off the stereo.

Fry, this isn't healthy;
you're living in the past.

I'm rich. I can live
whenever I want.

But we're your friends...

and we live here
in the year 3000.

Yeah.

Now, are you going to come
to the squid fights with us...

or sit here wallowing
in your prehistoric junk?

Junk?

Maybe you can't
understand this...

but I finally found
what I need to be happy...

and it's not friends...
it's things.

I'm a thing.

Just leave me alone.

Fry, please.

My ponytail's caught in the door.

I don't need them...

Not when I have
my antique videos...

my bucket of fossilized KFC...

and $50 million worth
of anchovies.

Mercy me, what a day.

Could you shut the door,
Igner, dear?

I think I feel a draft
coming on.

Holy crap, that bastard's itchy.

Walt, cream soda.

Right away, Mother.

Larry, get your
mother a cream soda.

But Mom said...

You heard me.

What's wrong, Mommy?

It's those damned anchovies.

That dirtbag Fry
must know their secret...

and I won't rest
until I get my hands on them.

No one messes with Mom.

Quiet, you.

As you boys know,
one of the cornerstones of my empire...

is Mom's Old-fashioned
Robot Oil.

Think of it...
ten billion robots...

each one needing an oil change
every 3,000 miles.

You don't have to do the math...

to know that's
a buttload of oil.

Can I wear your fat suit?

No, Igner, put that down!

Ohh.

What does this have to do
with the anchovies?

I'm getting
to the freaking anchovies.

A single drop
of the anchovy's natural oil...

would lubricate ten robots
permanently.

Wow. It's a shame
they went extinct.

No, it isn't!
Shut your filthy clam!

Thank you, Walt.

If anyone ever got hold
of anchovy DNA...

they could chop out
the oil-making gene...

stick it in a bunch
of third world kids and bam!

Cheap, effective robot oil...

enough to put dear old Mom
out of business.

My God, this Mr. Fry...

must be a mastermind
of the highest order.

Esther, you ugly.

We have only one option.

We'll have to bankrupt Mr. Fry...

so he'll be forced to sell
the anchovies to us.

Mother, you are one
clever old scag.

And don't you forget it.

How are we supposed to get
Fry's money out of the bank?

That part will be easy,
thanks to the nice people...

at Mom's Old-fashioned
Video Surveillance Unit.

Do you still remember
your PI N number?

Sure. It's the price
of a cheese pizza and a large soda...

back where I used to
work... Pinucci's Pizza.

It's the price
of a cheese pizza and a large soda.

You know what needs to be done.

What?

Get his PI N number, you idiots!

Now I'm off to some charity B.S.
For knocked-up teenage sluts.

Mr. Fry, it's those three
plumbers you called for.

We're here to tighten your drains.

Ow!

I didn't order any...

Quick! Give him
the tranquilizer.

That's a good boy.

Wake up, Mr. Fry.

Where am I?

You're in the good old year 2000
working here at Pinucci's Pizza.

You fell asleep on the job.

Well, that sounds like me,
but I thought I got frozen.

Wasn't I in the future?

No, you only "dreamed"
you were in the year 3000.

So I'm really back?

Well, that's exactly
what I wanted, I guess.

Who are you?

I am Mr. Pinucci.

You are?

Did-Did you grow a mustache
since last night?

No. Now, go work
the currency register.

I think I hear a customer coming.

I said, " I think I hear
a customer coming."

Oh, hurry up, please.

I want to get back
to the head museum.

Don't worry,
Miss Anderson.

This won't take long.

Now, your motivation is,
you're back in the year 2000...

and your head's
still on your body...

and you want a cheese pizza.

Okay, but I'm only doing this...

so people will take my head
seriously as an actress.

Hey, look... anchovies.

Of course.

They're not extinct yet.

And if you need
further proof...

that this is really
a thousand years ago...

well, here's contemporary
actress Pamela Anderson.

Ooh.

Hello, Fry.

Remember me
The Movie?

Uh...

It was the first movie...

to be shot entirely
in slow motion.

It hasn't been made yet.

Then he doesn't know
I won the Oscar?

- Nope.
- Crap!

Wait. You're Pamela Anderson.

Cool. What can I get you?

Oh, I'll have a cheese pizza
and a large...

Uh... line?

Soda.

Oh, right.

Cheese pizza and a large soda.

Uh, cheese and a...

That was quick.

So, what do I owe you?

10.77...

same as my PI N number.

Hey, you don't get to laugh.

Thanks a billion.

More like 4.3 billion.

- Oh!
- Ow!

Uh, I had a nightmare
I was in the year 2000

and you guys never existed.

I'm so glad I'm awake now
and you're really here.

Since when do you
care about us?

We thought you only cared
about cans of anchovies...

and stuffy old songs
about the buttocks.

No, that's not true.

Good-bye.

Whee!

This dream
brought to you by Lightspeed Briefs.

Bender, Leela...

don't leave me.

Wait a minute.

Hey, hey, buddy,
what year is this?

Uh... 3000.

3000?

Yes! I'm still in the future!

Life is wonderful!

Wait. What are you doing
with my stuff?

Uh, check bounced.

We're taking it all back.

- Oh, no, my A.T.M. Card...
- 1077.

I've got nothing left.

Except...

you're Fry's relative.

Do you have any idea
how he got so crazy?

Uh, what?

Oh, they say madness
runs in our family.

Some even call me mad.

And why?

Because I dared to dream of
my own race of atomic monsters...

Atomic supermen with
octagonal-shaped bodies...

that suck blood out of you...

Leela, Bender!

I missed you so much.

You did? What happened?

I was robbed.

They got everything,
except these.

Who did?

Hello, Fry.

It's Mom.

I felt terrible when I heard
about your money troubles...

and I thought maybe I could
help out a sweet young man...

by buying his anchovies.

Sorry, but the anchovies
aren't for sale.

What? Listen, you little bastard...

I control the robot oil business...

and I won't let you ruin me.

How much do you want?

You might as well put
that checkbook away...

because I've discovered
something even more important...

my friends, and they aren't
worth even a penny to me.

That's why these anchovies
are going on a pizza...

so I can share the food I love
with the people I like.

Holy hell!
You're going to eat them?

Oh! Well, just make sure
you eat them all.

You're a growing boy.

Toodle-oo!

Dumb ass.

What a nice lady.

Okay, my friends, get ready...

for the most
delicious extinct animal...

you've ever tasted.

I don't know.

I've had cow.

Gross!

Ick!

Mm.

Eh, no one likes
them at first...

but they'll grow on you.

That stench...

That heavenly stench.

More.

There aren't anymore,
and there never will be.

More!

More!

More!

More!