Futurama (1999–2013): Season 5, Episode 3 - The Route of All Evil - full transcript

Ah, beer.

So many choices
and it makes so little difference.

How about Löbrau? 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.

Wah, wah, baby wants a Zima.

Hey, hey, hey, we can all fight
when we're drunk.

Now, 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 in there!

- Nuh-uh!
- 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 just 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, Brett.
You've compressed our lunches

to a singularity for the last time!

Salt him, Dwight!

When I re-solidify, I'm going
to 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.

Yo.

Now it needs to boil for a couple hours.

Dwight, you remember the crew.

Crew, you remember Cubert?

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 21,
it becomes very, very good.

So scram!

Oh, man, I'm sick of this.

Hey, Dad.

What useless contraption
are you half-baking today?

Wuh?

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!

Stamp it, file it, oh, yeah

Send it overnight...

Can I collate that?

- No.
- Can I shred these contracts?

No!

Wow! A power stamper!

Now look at all the work I got to do!

Ow!

Mm. The ingredients are cooked

and they've 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 Dogdoo Eight,

a planet at the edge of the universe.

Sorry I can't come down to say goodbye

but I'm busy inventing useless junk.

And I smell bad.

Hey!

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 Dogdoo Eight,

but the universe ends
right after Dogdoo Seven.

Child-mon, 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.

Ooh-hoo-hoo, here comes violence.

Get a job, you lazy kids.

Uh, I guess if you want children beaten,

you have to do it yourself.

Come on, Dad, shuffle faster!

You don't want to miss the unveiling
of our new company, do you?

Company?

How cute.

What will you be peddling?

Lemonade? Shoe shines?

Cootie insurance?

Perhaps they've constructed
a teddy bear hospital.

Actually, we're starting
a competing delivery company.

Welcome to the world of business.

Hey, who's going to use a delivery service

with a kicked sign?

Nobody, that's who!

But we already have a client signed up.

We're delivering the Daily Supernova.

So your delivery company
is just a cute, harmless paper route.

Whew!

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.

Yeah, we'll show them.

All Awesome Express needs
is a sturdy interstellar delivery craft.

Voilà!

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!

Ooh! Let me feel.

Have you thought about what to name it?

I was thinking Benderbrau
if it's an ale...

Botweiser if it's a lager.

I hope it's a lager,
so I can take it to a ball game.

Ooh! I felt that one!

Oh, there's a crack in the hull here.

That could cause explosive decompression.

Put a sticker on it.

Off on your first delivery, eh?

You be careful, my little tinkler.

Remember we used
to call you that, huh? Tinkler?

Gets moving!

Those newspapers won'ts
deliver themselveses.

Only the Sunday edition can do's that.

Goodness, there must be
50 papers in that bundle.

That's a big number, 50.

Yeah, if you're an idiot.

Three, two, one.

All systems go.

Blastoff!

See you at din-din!

I'm blowing you a kiss!

Mwah!

Aah! Take evasive action!

It's closing in.
You can't avoid it.

It's a cheek seeker.

And... Gotcha!

No!

Yeah!

Business is down, so I have filed papers

to have you all reclassified as slaves.

Well, well
if it isn't our little munchkin moguls.

Would you just...

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?

Uh, in a small way, yes.

But you still don't have your own building

or conference table or...

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.

The Sun.

I'm burning to death!

Oh! 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.

- That's great!
- All right!

Naturally, we're humiliated.

That's why we need you, our loyal crew,

to make Planet Express
800% more profitable.

We'll start by slashing salaries

and this time, I mean really slashing.

Uh, 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 a better offer.

We're paperboys now.

Incoming! We got papers to stuff, team.

Hup to, hup to.

- Yes, sir.
- Right away.

We're on it, Mr. Farnsworth.

Folks, the situation is grim,
but we shall prevail

thanks to you,
our crack team of loyal dregs.

I don't even know who this guy is.

I'm Scruffy, the janitor.

Yes, 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 these forms

which I'm presently engaged
in handing to 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!

Uh, will you be hiring?

- No.
- You rotten kids!

There, one million papers,
folded and loaded.

Hey, 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 12.

- Oh...
- Did I ever tell you

how I used to own that ship?

There but for the grace of God.

Hush, little brewski
Don't you leak

Daddy wants to drink
for at least a week

Oh, my God! I think it's time!

Hurry, Leela.
Get some coasters and cold mugs.

Push, Bender, push.

You're doing great.

It feels like I'm 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 just 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?

Uh... We just did, okay?

'Cause we're awesome.

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

- Awesome.
- 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?

- Ugh!
- 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 footsteps.

Oh, it's true, but they grow up so fast.

We just 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.

Please, help us, Pops.

We agreed to deliver way more
papers than we could handle.

But we couldn't handle 'em,
so we started dumping the extras

in a crater on the moon.

And now everybody's yelling at us
about their missing papers.

And we don't know what to do.

- Oh...
- Oh...

Why did you boys do all this?

We just 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 gun, Dad?

Oh, what kind of father
would I be if I said no?

Only one house to go.

We did it!

Yeah!

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.

Uh, 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 the hell 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.

- I'm sorry, sir.
- Yeah. Sorry.

You can 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.

Aw. 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.

Hooray?

That was incredible!

You are the bravest dads
in the entire trauma center.

You guys almost had him,
until he digested you.

Aw, 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... 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 violence,

so, uh, if you'll
accept my apology, well...

I hope we can put this
embarrassing incident behind us.

- Mm. I suppose.
- Oh, ah...

Hey, chumps!

I heard you were on the ass end
of an ass-kicking,

so I figured you could use
a couple of these little babies.

Oh, why not?

Might as well live it up
as long as I've 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.