Futurama (1999–2013): Season 7, Episode 10 - Near-Death Wish - full transcript

♪ Two... two, three... ♪

7x10
- Near-Death Wish -

Welcome back
to the clippie awards,

honoring the year's most
accomplished delivery boys.

Our next category
is best newcomer on a bicycle.

Good luck, Dwight.

(Bell dings)

And the nominees are

Johnny Jensen from rent-a-cat,

Nezzbin Zalgabarg,
ten-minute underwear,

and Dwight Conrad, speedy wig.



And the clippie goes to...

(Grunting)

Little Johnny Jensen!

(Applause)

Oh, don't feel bad, son.

We couldn't be
more proud of you.

Unless, of course,
you had won the award.

Man, you're so lucky
to have your family here.

The stupid Professor
didn't even show up for me.

I'd just like to thank
my awesome parents.

We love you, Johnny!

Shh!

Now to get all serious.

It's time to pay tribute
to the brave delivery boys



who gave their lives
this past year

in the line of duty.

Gene Tinker, bus.

Charles Kiley, train.

Mike Pisarik, lion.

They're on the truck
to heaven now.

Up next, the award
for best delivery boy:

Newspaper, phone book,
or miscellaneous.

Miscellaneous, that's me.

The nominees are:

Gene tinker,

Charles kiley,

Mike Pisarik,

and Philip J. Fry.

And the clippie goes to...

(Applause)

Sign here.

Wow.
Uh, (Clears throat)

I'd like to thank the academy
of delivery sciences,

my lovely robot, Bender,

and most of all, my dear nephew,

Professor Farnsworth.

He always has time for me,

whether it's sending me
on a delivery,

or just pulling me aside
to tell me I'm doing a bad job.

And why?

Because he's family,

and family is always there
for each other.

(Groans) I'm sorry,

but I can't keep reading
this tissue of lies.

The truth is,

Professor Farnsworth is a cold,
heartless jerk!

And the fish sticks were limp!

Ooh, hefty.

You could really bash
in a skull with this thing.

I know, right?

(Clears throat loudly)

What?

Oh, your awards show.

I'm sorry I couldn't make it,

but I had a very good reason.

Perhaps you'd favor us with it?

My pleasure.

You see, I came down
with a searing case

of who gives a crap.

(Giggles)

(Growling)

Oh, I wish I had
more living relatives.

What about
the Professor's parents?

They're still alive?

Sure, they exhibit
all the telltale signs...

toenails growing,
hearts pumping fluid,

the whole shmagoigle.

So where do these fossils live,

in sedimentary rock?

(Laughing)

No.

According to
his next of kin file,

they live
in a virtual retirement home

on the near-death star.

I've been there.

Let's boldly go

where we've gone before.

Halt!

Visitors are forbidden.

Oh, really?

Does that rule apply to...

Clippie winners?

I'm sorry, sir.

Go right in.

That's Philip J. Fry.

Ned and velma Farnsworth,

423 Shadybrook Lane.

Let's hover-roll.

Fry, you're so confident and
take charge on this trip.

It's kind of a turn-on.

Not now, Leela,
I'm trying to meet old people.

("Also Sprach Zarathustra"
plays)

(Doorbell rings)

My God...

It's full of geezers.

Hey, why are they hooked up
like that?

Is it some kind of craft-matic
adjustable death bed?

(Chuckles) Don't be ridiculous.

Their bodies are being used
to generate electricity.

The idea came from an old
movie called the matrix.

But-but wouldn't
almost anything

make a better battery
than a human body?

Like a potato?

Or a battery?

Plus, no matter
how much energy they produced,

it would take more energy
than that to keep them alive.

I know, I know.

It sounds absurd.

In fact,
when the matrix first came out,

it seemed like
the single crummiest, laziest,

most awful, dimwitted idea

in the entire history
of science fiction,

but it turned out to be true.
Who knew?

Good work, writer
of the matrix.

This is it, room 1119.

Aw, it's my relatives.

I'm gonna call them
Gram-Gram and Shabba-doo.

They look just like you, Fry.

Arms, legs, ugly.

Too bad we can't visit them
in their virtual world.

We can.
Just moisten your heads

and put on these
real-to-virtual adapter caps.

Hmm, electricity plus hats
with wires on them.

Are you sure this is safe?

It's not just safe,
it's 40% safe.

(Electrical crackling,
grunting)

(Yelling)

(Yelling)

Told you it was safe.

Wow, so this is my relatives'
virtual old-folks home.

There's only one word for it:
Terrible.

And also horrible.

This is their room.

They're gonna be so
excited to meet me.

Hi.

I'm your distant relative.

Forget it, you flimflammer.

I can smell a scam a mile away.

Reverse mortgages.

Get your reverse
mortgages here.

Oh, come in, come in.

So, you're really
my grandson, huh?

Well, it's not quite
that simple.

See, I got frozen, and your son,

Professor Farnsworth, is my
great-great-great-great-great...

Huh?
What?

Yep, I'm your grandson
all right.

A grandson?

My, you're a big boy.

What are you, a...

A junior in high school?

Most recently, yes.

Oh, you look so thin.

Can I offer you some
virtual ham casserole?

Sounds delicious.

Mmm.

(Sighs)

Nobody's eaten my food
like that in ages.

I don't cook much since
we moved out of reality.

(High-pitched droning)

(Snoring)

And that's how I got this scar
above my eye,

and this fork inside my lung.

(Chuckles) That's a doozy.

Hey, look at this.

I can pull my thumb off.

Oh, stop, Shabba-doo,
you're freaking me out.

Don't let him get your nose.

(Laughter)

(Snorts)

Oh, lord.

(Snoring resumes)

It's so nice
to have more family.

All I had was the Professor,

and he's kind of crotchety
and moldy.

You should have seen
him when he was little.

My golly, he was
crotchety and moldy.

We miss him terribly,

but it sure has been nice
spending time with you.

It gets lonely and
depressing around here,

with no entertainment
except the rigged bingo!

Old man (Distantly):
Prove it, loser!

Well, we should get going.

It was great to meet you,
though,

and hear about how bursitis
transcends physical existence.

(Sniffles)
Keep up with your studies, huh?

What?

Oh, God, I'm still here?

I'll miss you guyyyyys...

I don't think Gram-Gram
likes that place,

and I know Shabba-don't.

I sure wish
they could come with us.

(Alarm sounds)

Guards (Chanting):
Elder abuse! Elder abuse!

(Screaming)

Go it! Fastly!

(Engine whines)

It won't start.

The batteries are dead.

I'm about to lose
history's greatest life

all because of some
useless old people.

They're not useless.
(Grunts)

They can cook ham casserole...
(Grunts)

And watch TV
at incredible volume...

(Grunts)
And they generate electricity...

(Gasps) That's it!

(Grunting)

(Engine starts)

We can cut them off.

Turn left at Miriam Feinberg.

I meant Feingold!

It's so nice to meet
the Professor's parents.

I'm Dr. Zoidberg.

I'm very important.

Leela:
Hey, Zoidberg,

you forgot to empty
this trash can.

Don't hit me!

I bet the Professor will be
thrilled to see you again.

Oh, Professor.

Some special old people
are here for you.

Are they my zombies
from hammacher schlemmer?

(Gasps)

Mama? Daddy?

Son!
Hiya, kiddo!

Leave me alone!

I never want to see you again!

What crawled up his geritol?

Well, to be honest,
a few troubling things

did happen in our past.

Lady, all of human history
happened in your past!

(Laughs)

Eh, let's not let those
dark days ruin our visit.

Philip, what do you say we go
out today and live it up?

Live it up?

I'd be surprised
if you live it out!

(Laughs) Whoo!

You're on fire!

♪

♪

(laughing)

Whoa, looks like
you guys had fun.

Did we ever!

Gram-Gram fell down
at the ice cream store

and we got free ice cream!

Now let's all go take a nap!

(Whooping)

Professor, Amy and I
are concerned that... oh!

(Sobbing)

Aw. What's wrong?

I just want my parents
to love me.

God, how I hate them!

Of course they love you!

Not like they love Fry!

They never
played with me like that.

They were always "too tired."

Oh, what awful parents!

Come closer, I'll tell you
the whole story.

Tell you what, let's get an
opaque bubble layer going.

Okay, go.

It all started a century
and a half ago.

I had a perfectly normal
adolescence in new New York.

But my parents were
simple hedge fund managers

who couldn't appreciate
my interest in science.

Mom, dad, look what I made!

(Yawns)

That's wonderful, dear.

Here you go, squeakers.

I was accepted to mit
at the age of 14,

but my parents
crushed my dreams

like a discarded frog head!

Honey, I'm afraid
we can't let you go.

You're just not
emotionally mature enough

for college yet.

(Mumbling): "Not mature
enough for college yet!"

(Sobs loudly)

Worried that city life
was filling my head

with an unhealthy
respect for education,

my parents moved us to...

A peaceful farm!

(Sobbing)

I think that's sweet.

Oh, shut up!

(Cow mooing, chickens clucking)

You're all I have left,
squeakers.

(Bird screeches)

(Screaming)

Oh, God, I hated that place!

My parents kept me
there for years!

So when I finally ran away,

I vowed never to
speak to them again!

That's a really sad
and long story, Professor.

But you'll never get over this

unless you go to
your parents now

and tell them honestly
how you feel.

(Sniffs) You're right.

I will.

Oh, I hate you,
I hate you, I hate you!

You ruined my life!

Good-bye!

(Sobbing)

That is one crazy,
uncircumcised old man.

(Door opens, Fry panting)

I almost headed off the
Professor at the east river,

but the wind caught
his skin flaps

and sent him parasailing
over the queensboro bridge.

Why would he go to queens?

He doesn't need tires.

Our old farm was in queens.

He must've gone back there to
defile it with his nudity!

Come on, hurry!

(Groaning painfully)

Why are you so eager to
find the Professor, Fry?

Aren't you mad at him?

Of course I'm mad.

That's been established.

I just want to find him

for Gram-Gram and
Shabba-doo's sake.

Who?

Faster, faster!

Okay, stop short!

(Grunts)

There's the old place.

Ned:
Hasn't changed a bit.

Put on your glasses, sweetie.

(Screams)

(Hooting)

(Professor whimpering, sobbing)

(Gasps)

I hear something!

(Fry gasps)

It's the Professor!

Yes, everyone look at the freak!

His parents didn't love him,
so they kept him here,

a hundred Miles
from the nearest microscope!

Why?

Why?!

Oh...

He deserves the truth, velma.

I think he's old enough
to handle it.

Cupcake...

We never told you this, but...

You had an older brother.

Wha...?

Velma:
In many ways, he was like you.

He loved science and was
desperate to go to college.

He even looked
a little like you.

But the sad fact was...

Oh, how can I
put this delicately?

He was a crazy-ass nutjob!

Thank you, ned.

But so what?

He was our crazy-ass nutjob,
and we loved him.

(Screams, groans)

Velma: Every night, the poor
boy had terrors in his sleep.

His pajamas would be
soaked with sweat.

Yeah, sweat. Right.

Velma: We'd stay at his
bedside all night,

and whenever he'd start moaning
and sweating his pants,

we'd read to him
from his favorite book.

81, thallium.

82, lead.

82, bismuth.

Ned: The poor little psycho never
could've survived on his own.

So we kept him on
the farm as long as we could.

Velma:
But one night he ran away,

taking nothing but
the clothes on his back.

Whoo-hoo-hoo!

(Screaming)

Velma: He was admitted to a
prestigious institution...

a mental institution!

Ned: Got himself a full
wackademic scholarship.

And we never saw him again!

We couldn't let you end up
like your older brother.

That's why we kept you
on the farm and helped you get

your online doctorate
in rodeo studies.

Rodeo studies?

We did it out of
love for you, Floyd.

Floyd? Who the hell's Floyd?

I'm Hubert!

You're Hubert?

The older brother?

(Gasping)

But... we thought

you were still in
an institution!

Oh, no, no, no, no.

I was out within 25 years.

It felt like a minute
compared to grad school.

Oh, hubie, we're so happy
to see you again!

Wait.

Was all that true?

Did you really sit up
with me every night?

You bet, sport.

That's why we were always
too tired to play with you.

I'm so sorry we never
got the chance.

Oh, mama!

Daddy!

(Sobbing)

(Clears throat)

Uh, this may not
be the best time,

but a couple years ago,
a homeless rodeo clown

named Floyd came to
the door claiming he was...

Bender!

Why do you always have
to be the center of attention?

You're sure you want to go back
to the near-death star?

Oh, my, yes.

Our muscles are sore,
our bones ache.

My damn skin even hurts.

It's no dream house,

but we get fed
through our spines

and the rent is reasonable.

Don't worry.

I'll come back
and visit sometime.

How about December,

when they inject the holidays
into our brains?

That sounds nice, Gram-Gram.

Well, son,

I guess this is
good-bye again.

Not quite yet.

I took the liberty
of reprogramming

your retirement simulation.

Why don't I come in
for a moment

and show you around?

Good virtual God!

It's our old farm!

It's beautiful!

Appearances... just a simple
matter of appearances.

Speaking of which...

(Gasps)

Velma:
My boy!

My beautiful boy!

One last chance to play...

if you're not too tired?

Not too tired to chase you,
you cute little nutjob!

Come on, velma!

Someone needs tickles!
I'm gonna get you!

Here I come!
(Laughing)

I almost got you!
Come here, you.