Futurama s10e07 Episode Script
Murderoni
1
[upbeat theme music playing]
[glass shatters]
[theme concludes]
♪♪
Hold still, Dwight.
Who taught you how to tie a tie?
No one! That's the problem!
[Dwight yelps, grunts]
I swear, that tie is longer than
a steamrolled green snake!
Allow me.
[Zoidberg slurping]
Yum.
It's Dwight's first day
at the Young Bureaucrats Club.
He's a real check off the old box.
[pincers snip]
[Zoidberg slurping]
Yum again.
[soft music playing]
[engine rumbling, brakes squealing]
[kiss smacks]
You have no idea how proud I am
that you want to follow
in my compulsively even footsteps, son.
Eh, your fax made it pretty clear.
[door squeaking]
[sneaky music playing]
[Dwight grunts]
[panting]
Bye-bye!
[melancholy music playing]
[Hermes sniffles]
[softly sobbing]
[blows nose]
People! In honor of my son's first step
on the bureaucratic treadmill,
I'm takin' you all out for pizza.
[crew cheering]
One topping, no tippin'.
[upbeat music playing]
Welcome, old friends!
We make-a you the nice table.
It's great. Very flat.
Wow. Business is booming.
Yes-a, everybody going
a-mentally ill for our pepperoni.
It's-a so tender,
you don't even gotta chew!
Oh, good! My battery was running low.
[teeth chattering, power winding down]
How y'all doin'?
Our server will be right-a with you.
[Hermes] Let's see
pepperoni, or pepperoni?
[server] Would you like to
hear today's special?
It's pepperoni.
[dramatic sting]
- Hi.
- Sweet coconut of the shogunate!
Why aren't you at the
Young Bureaucrats Club?!
[emotional music playing]
I'm sorry, Pops, but
I don't want to be a bureaucrat.
I didn't know how to tell you.
Well, you found the worst possible way.
By tellin' me!
How will we break this
to your poor mother?
Eh, she's known for years.
That's right, son.
Never let anyone tell you what to do.
And go and get us some refills
on them Arnold Palmers, chop chop.
I like working here.
Blecch and Blazucchi are really nice bugs.
Dwight work-a real hard,
even during the school hours.
- What?!
- Don't worry, Hermes.
I used to work in a pizza parlor,
and I turned out.
[dramatic breaking news music
playing on TVs]
We interrupt this pizza menu
to bring you breaking news.
Billionaire fast-food magnate
Fishy Joe Gilman
has thrown his hat into the upcoming
city council election,
District 97.
Stay tuned for our hard-hitting,
unbiased report,
after this word from Fishy Joe's.
It's fish-licking good!
[fanciful upbeat music playing]
[fish chorus singing]
Force a fish stick in your mouth ♪
When you come to Fishy Joe's ♪
Where the fish is never frozen
and the 'frigerator broke ♪
Well, they're yummy in your belly
and they're greasy and they're smelly ♪
And they're mostly made of batter ♪
But they still have lots of bones ♪
[TV static]
Yecch.
I don't wanna hear-a Fishy Joe,
I don't wanna see-a Fishy Joe.
Look! It's Fishy Joe!
[dramatic sting]
[crowd cheering]
For too long, District 97 has been hostile
to the international chain restaurants
that give this and every
other neighborhood in the world
their unique local character.
I won't stand by as
greedy mom-and-pop joints
like that one
serve better food at lower prices.
[crowd] Boo!
If elected, I pledge
to impose a punitive tax
on these quaint eateries,
and funnel it to faceless
big money interests.
[crowd cheering]
This year, make sure
the election results are Fishy.
Vote Fishy Joe!
[dramatic music playing]
[crowd cheering]
Ooh, I hate-a his face.
I'd like to shove a fish stick
where the star of this-a
solar system don't-a shine.
We can't-a pay-a new tax!
We struggle for years
just to find-a pizza recipe
that doesn't make-a human metabolism say,
"Get it outta me!"
[Professor gumming pizza] Mm, mm!
The struggle paid off.
You have the tenderest pepperoni
I've ever gummed.
This Fish-a Joe gonna ruin us.
I wish-a there was a better candidate
or literally any other candidate.
How about you?
You're literally any other candidate.
Me? A humble alien with legislative
experience on her home planet,
and a can-do spirit?
I can-a no do.
Oh, come on, that's not
the Blazucchi I barely know.
I don't know you either.
I'll do it!
[victorious music playing]
I promise to make-a good government
the same way I make-a good pizza,
with lots-a hard work,
and whatever kinda mushroom
is-a the cheapest.
[crowd cheering]
[lines grunting]
[Linda] With the candidates
running neck and thorax
we welcome you to the first
of 15 live debates
between city council hopefuls
Fishy Joe Gilman,
Blazucchi Nolastname,
and latecomer Boxy Robot.
[Boxy Robot beeps]
[Linda laughs]
You and me both. [chuckles]
Candidates, start your blathering.
Thank you, laughing lady.
[Linda laughs]
My husband and I infested
this-a district with a big dream,
to make-a the pepperoni pizzas.
And everybody love them!
[crowd cheering]
Now hang on, hang on.
Let's talk about your pepperoni.
It's-a very tender, yes?
Yes suspiciously tender.
And you wanna know why it's so tender?
Many people are saying it's
because it's made from
human babies!
[dramatic sting]
[crowd gasps]
[Boxy Robot beeps]
Don't try to defend her.
They're fattening up
babies in the basement
and choppin' up the chubbiest ones
to make that sweet, innocent pepperoni!
People are saying.
- How many people?
- A lot.
One of the biggest numbers.
This is-a crazy!
I don't even know how to hatch a baby!
Wow, Fishy Joe just sank his own campaign.
No one could believe such insane lies.
You'd have to be a gullible,
deranged moron!
Yee-haw!
[crowd clamoring]
Let's go mob! Let's go mob!
Let's go mob!
How do ya like my mob?
[dramatic music playing]
[crowd clamoring]
[protester] Boo!
[over megaphone]
We demand you show us the basement!
Here's your slice, sir.
Sir, you seem to be yelling the loudest.
Can you tell us why you're protesting?
First of all, I need the exercise.
But also, they're making babies
into pepperoni!
[ominous music playing]
Down in their basement slaughterhouse.
[Bender burps]
[slurping]
[door bells jingle]
We don't even a-have a basement!
Come in and a-look!
See?
No basement, no bathroom.
Not even a ceiling in-a some places.
[water dripping]
[owls hooting]
You think you can cover up the truth
with a bunch of obvious facts?
Well, I got a mob who says otherwise!
[dramatic music playing]
[Bender] Let's go mob!
How-a we gonna prove-a
we don't got a basement?
We can't even prove we don't-a
got a restaurant a-license!
Easy! I'll just check
the city building records.
Do that thing I said.
[suspenseful music playing]
[wrist device beeping]
[chimes]
[wrist device] File not found.
[emotional] I tried my best!
Huh. This building must be too old
to have its blueprints online.
Then we're a-ruined.
We'll have-a to go out-a from-a business.
[Dwight sighs]
Guess I'm doomed to join
the Young Bureaucrats.
I won't let this happen!
I mean, I'll let the second part happen.
Yeah, right. What are you gonna do?
Stamp some stupid form?
Actually, son, we're going
on a thrillin' adventure!
Which might involve a few forms
being stamped.
[stamper cocking]
[adventurous music playing]
Let's get this party authorized!
[sign counter beeps]
[people chattering]
[whooshing]
[bell dings]
Now serving 18,307.
Finally, I can get my birth certificate!
Uh, I believe that's us.
[turnstile rattling]
Now serving 18,308.
[bell dings]
[gasping, thuds]
[somber music playing]
What's the holds-up with my pizza?
I'm-a sorry, we're a-short mandibled.
We lost our cheap child labor human.
I'm a cheap, childish human!
You haven't worked at
a pizzeria in a thousand years.
It requires zero skill!
That's why I'm so good at it.
[pizza sizzling]
[gasping] Hot! Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot!
You forgot-a the holding disc!
[gasps] My pants!
[crying] My beautiful pants!
So wash 'em.
You think they'll be okay?
- I've never washed them before.
- Ew!
- Yuck!
- Blecch!
- Why not?
- It's just
I couldn't bear to part with them.
Not even for 45 minutes.
[sniffles] They're one of the only things
I have left from my old life
before I got frozen.
Aww.
Wash your damn pants!
[washing machine rattling]
[spinner winding down]
[steam hissing]
There, see?
You're good to go
for another thousand years.
[fabric crunching]
No!
The stains was all there was!
[epic music playing]
[scanner beeping]
[metal cubicles clanging]
[bureaucrats] Whoa! Whoa!
Whoa!
[clanging continues]
[metal thuds]
[center-square bureaucrat] Who goes there?
And do you have any sea-sickness medicine?
[laughing]
Heck, I'd drink nail polish.
I am Hermes Conrad,
Bureaucrat Grade 37.
Oh, Hermes! My eyes must be goin'.
I thought you were Zsa Zsa Gabor.
- [quietly] Who?
- [quietly] I don't know. Just laugh.
[both fake laughing]
That wasn't a joke.
How can I help?
We're looking for some
ancient city building plans,
from before the Great Digitization.
On paper?!
[thunder crashing]
Hmm, must've blown a fuse or somethin'.
You may proceed to
the Labyrinth of Documentation!
[dramatic kettledrum music playing]
[door clatters, chains rattling]
[heavy thud]
[bureaucrat monks chanting]
Whoa it's a total no-man's land.
Sounds like my weekend.
[laughing]
[chuckling]
[sniffles, starts sobbing]
[mysterious music playing]
I didn't know there was this
much paper in the entire world!
It's like a vast paper forest.
What's a forest?
We're lookin' for some really old records.
Let me carbon-taste this ink.
[slurping]
Hmm. Only a hundred years old.
We'll need to go deeper.
[Dwight] Oh frack, a fork!
How do we know which way to go?
See these little black dots?
They're paper mites.
[scurrying]
Ugh!
Ah, these are bigger.
We'll take this path.
The bigger the mites,
the longer they've been feedin'.
[slurping]
You want a granola bar or somethin'?
[mysterious music playing]
[papers crunching]
[papers fluttering]
How are you supposed to find anything?
Seems like the papers
are just scattered randomly.
It may look that way to the uninitiated,
but to a seasoned bureaucrat,
this is art borderin' on the erotic.
- Dad!
- I said bordering!
It's arranged according to a mysterious,
ancient filing system
devised by the father
of modern bureaucracy,
the great Bureaucrates.
[dramatic music plays]
A true organizational genius.
What happened to him?
He got lost in his own files and died.
And alas, the secrets
of his system died with him.
[floor rumbling]
Whoa.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!
[dramatic music playing]
[paper shredder whirring]
[Hermes grunts]
[bust clatters]
Careful, son! It's a Shredlacc pit.
[dramatic music playing]
[blades whirring]
[groans] I should never
have brought you here.
- It's too excitin'.
- It really isn't.
[loud rumbling]
Shelfilanche!
[file cabinets crashing]
- We're trapped!
- Not yet, we're not.
[dramatic music playing]
[rapid clacking]
[Hermes grunting]
[tape whooshing]
Grab on, boy!
[both yelp]
[dramatic music playing]
[Hermes] We're getting close.
I can tell because
the paper mites are getting larger.
- How large?
- That large.
[dramatic sting]
[paper mite snarling]
[Dwight screaming]
Cowardly screams won't be enough, son.
We'll have to best this bug in combat!
But that thing's gonna inflict
at least 2d12 damage.
We'll never survive without armor!
How about chain mail?
[paper mite growling]
[protesters chanting]
We're not complacent.
Show us the basement!
We're not complacent.
Show us the basement!
Told ya it rhymed.
♪♪
Man, protestin' really
works up an appetite.
Wow, you're a hungry, hungry hypocrite.
Hey, a guy's gotta eat!
Actually, you don't.
[Fry sighs deeply]
Aw. How are you dealing
with the loss of your pants?
You know how these things go.
I'm taking it day by day.
So, you got new pants?
[emotional] No, it's too soon.
[melancholy music playing]
Wow, that took a really long time.
Thank you, son.
That's music to a bureaucrat's ears.
Now, let's slay that paper mite!
[paper mite snoring]
Huh. Guess we can just walk around it.
No way!
I didn't put nine hours into these
paper-clip codpieces for nothin'!
[blade slices]
You won't be comin' in on Monday!
[grunts]
[blade thumps]
[paper mite growls]
[snarling, roaring]
[armor clinking]
It's hopeless!
We have no weapon now!
Incorrect. In the hands of a bureaucrat,
paperwork can be lethal.
[dramatic music playing]
[papers fluttering]
[paper mite laughing]
[dramatic music playing]
[wind howling]
[footsteps crunching]
[Hermes shivering]
Why are you shiverin'?
It's not even cold in here.
It's kinda hot.
I know, but it just looks really cold.
Man, it's blinding!
I lost track of which direction
we were gettin' lost in.
This is how they say Bureaucrates died,
lost in a whiteout of his own paperwork.
[melancholy music playing]
I'm sorry, Dwight.
All I wanted was to share
my love of bureaucracy with you.
Instead, I'm fillin' out
our death certificates.
[pen scribbling]
Initial here and list the cause
of death as "stupid father."
[Dwight] It's okay, Pops.
At least we had a great
adventure together.
The best thing to do now is lie down
and freeze to death quickly.
You alive?
[hoofbeats approaching]
You hear somethin'?
[epic, heroic music playing]
Slower! Slower!
The storm's getting worse!
Get in quick before
you die of heat stroke!
[extension-cord whip snaps]
I don't believe it.
Are you Bureaucrates?
All questions must be
submitted in writing.
[gasps] It is you!
But the history books say
you were lost in a whiteout.
I still am!
[epic music playing]
Please, make yourselves uncomfortable.
How may I impede you?
We seek an ancient floor plan
predating the digital records.
But so far, we've been unable
to crack your legendary filing system.
Can you at least give us a hint?
You want a hint?
Here's a hint.
There is no system!
Can we get another hint?
[hysterical] I'm a fraud!
I just kept piling things up,
deeper and deeper.
I said I'd get to it on Monday,
but Monday never came
'cause my calendar was
under one of the piles!
But according to legend,
you could find anythin'.
I could because I had a general idea
of which pile to look in.
But no one else stood a chance!
So you created a filing system
so unsystematic
that literally nothing
could be done without you?
You truly are the greatest
bureaucrat who ever lived.
[sniffles]
Your pandering hero worship has moved me.
I thought I was a failure,
when all along I was a bottleneck!
Oh, a huge one!
Now, this is the buildin' address
we're lookin' for.
Ah, yes.
I remember filing this in Column Gamma.
Hmm, uh, no.
Uh, uh, must be this one.
Or, uh, maybe this one?
[paper temple crashing]
No, it was it was
the first one I grabbed earlier.
Here.
You have found your treasure,
but at great cost.
For alas,
there is no way out of this labyrinth.
I've been searching for 500 years.
Have you tried this door?
You can't use that! It's for emergencies.
[door creaking]
[alarm softly beeping]
Come with us, friend.
No. My place is here,
filing a false alarm report
that no one will ever see.
[soft beeping continues]
You are as a god.
[door closes, beeping stops]
[protesters chanting]
Show us the attic!
Wait, we mean the basement!
[muffled chanting continues outside]
Look here, Fishy Jerk!
These official records
will prove once and for all
that there is no basement!
[dramatic sting]
There's a basement?
[Professor grunting]
[dramatic sting]
[group gasping]
I knew that stuff I made up was true.
[suspenseful music playing]
What you are about to see
may be disturbing.
It better be!
A secret basement has been discovered
beneath Family Brothers Pizzeria,
the once-popular eatery
rumored to make pepperoni
from tender human babies.
Let us see what horrors lie below!
But they didn't even
know they had a basement!
What a crock of malarkey.
Leela, watch your language!
There's no baby butcher down there.
And, uh, let's arm ourselves just in case.
[glass bottle shatters]
I'm not scared.
Lead the way, somebody else.
I'll do it.
Without my pants,
life isn't worth living anyway.
[flames whooshing]
[group gasping, groaning]
Ew!
[softly] Get a shot of that.
What happened to your underpants?
[fire crackling]
[suspenseful music playing]
[suspenseful music swells]
[group gasps]
[Fishy Joe Gilman] There's nothin' here.
But it's filthy!
No self-respecting devil worshiper
would sacrifice babies in this dump!
Oh, my God!
Don't you mean, "Oh, my Satan"?
[dramatic sting]
[Fry]
It's the ruins of Panucci's Pizza!
Where I worked a thousand years ago.
Really? Directly under the other pizzeria?
It makes sense.
This address has been zoned
as a pizzeria for a millennium.
They must have just kept building them
one on top of another, on top of another,
until they built the second one,
and they were done.
So, my old locker must be right
here!
Ah! My spare delivery pants!
Should I put them on?
I think I speak for everyone when I say,
yes, dammit, yes!
And so, despite the overzealous
reporting of my colleague
[Linda laughing]
there is no baby-murdering
pepperoni operation
in this filthy basement.
We sincerely apologize for any
excitement we may have caused.
[static buzzing]
Well, I'm a sleazebag,
and the people of District 97
deserve better.
[gentle music playing]
Congratulations, Blazucchi.
I'm droppin' outta the race
to focus on my presidential ambitions.
[door creaking]
Hello
[all gasping]
Blecch?
What are you a-doing in mystery basement?
And where did you get that pepperoni?
Eh [chuckles nervously]
Well, I [sighs]
I a-show you.
[door creaking]
This is-a where I get
my melt-in-you-face pepperoni.
It's been a-dry aging
for a thousand years.
Wow, since Fry worked here!
[nostalgic music playing]
[Fry] I remember it
like it was yesteryear
only, we didn't hang
pepperoni from the ceiling.
We just stuck it on a high shelf
to keep the laziest rats away.
[fly buzzing]
The only thing hanging from the ceiling
was fly paper.
[Zoidberg] So where'd
the pepperoni come from?
[mysterious music playing]
[mechanical whirring]
[dramatic sting]
[Bender gags] It's a log of dead flies!
[all gagging]
At least it's not babies.
Uh
Do you, Boxy Robot, solemnly
swear to uphold the obscure
and trivial ordinances of District 97?
[Boxy Robot beeps]
Well, you may not have gotten elected,
but at least your reputation is, uh
never mind.
So, you think you might
follow in my footsteps,
now that you've seen how thrillin'
bureaucracy can be?
No. I still find bureaucracy super boring.
[gentle music playing]
But
I think you're pretty cool.
That's 92.5% of all I could ask for.
Hey, it's our handsome waiter!
And he's wearing pants!
[solemn music playing]
I swear before God almighty
that these pants will never see
the inside of a washing machine.
[music stops]
No. No, no, no, no!
[Leela] What is it?
Pineapple!
♪♪
[fanfare playing]
[upbeat theme music playing]
[glass shatters]
[theme concludes]
♪♪
Hold still, Dwight.
Who taught you how to tie a tie?
No one! That's the problem!
[Dwight yelps, grunts]
I swear, that tie is longer than
a steamrolled green snake!
Allow me.
[Zoidberg slurping]
Yum.
It's Dwight's first day
at the Young Bureaucrats Club.
He's a real check off the old box.
[pincers snip]
[Zoidberg slurping]
Yum again.
[soft music playing]
[engine rumbling, brakes squealing]
[kiss smacks]
You have no idea how proud I am
that you want to follow
in my compulsively even footsteps, son.
Eh, your fax made it pretty clear.
[door squeaking]
[sneaky music playing]
[Dwight grunts]
[panting]
Bye-bye!
[melancholy music playing]
[Hermes sniffles]
[softly sobbing]
[blows nose]
People! In honor of my son's first step
on the bureaucratic treadmill,
I'm takin' you all out for pizza.
[crew cheering]
One topping, no tippin'.
[upbeat music playing]
Welcome, old friends!
We make-a you the nice table.
It's great. Very flat.
Wow. Business is booming.
Yes-a, everybody going
a-mentally ill for our pepperoni.
It's-a so tender,
you don't even gotta chew!
Oh, good! My battery was running low.
[teeth chattering, power winding down]
How y'all doin'?
Our server will be right-a with you.
[Hermes] Let's see
pepperoni, or pepperoni?
[server] Would you like to
hear today's special?
It's pepperoni.
[dramatic sting]
- Hi.
- Sweet coconut of the shogunate!
Why aren't you at the
Young Bureaucrats Club?!
[emotional music playing]
I'm sorry, Pops, but
I don't want to be a bureaucrat.
I didn't know how to tell you.
Well, you found the worst possible way.
By tellin' me!
How will we break this
to your poor mother?
Eh, she's known for years.
That's right, son.
Never let anyone tell you what to do.
And go and get us some refills
on them Arnold Palmers, chop chop.
I like working here.
Blecch and Blazucchi are really nice bugs.
Dwight work-a real hard,
even during the school hours.
- What?!
- Don't worry, Hermes.
I used to work in a pizza parlor,
and I turned out.
[dramatic breaking news music
playing on TVs]
We interrupt this pizza menu
to bring you breaking news.
Billionaire fast-food magnate
Fishy Joe Gilman
has thrown his hat into the upcoming
city council election,
District 97.
Stay tuned for our hard-hitting,
unbiased report,
after this word from Fishy Joe's.
It's fish-licking good!
[fanciful upbeat music playing]
[fish chorus singing]
Force a fish stick in your mouth ♪
When you come to Fishy Joe's ♪
Where the fish is never frozen
and the 'frigerator broke ♪
Well, they're yummy in your belly
and they're greasy and they're smelly ♪
And they're mostly made of batter ♪
But they still have lots of bones ♪
[TV static]
Yecch.
I don't wanna hear-a Fishy Joe,
I don't wanna see-a Fishy Joe.
Look! It's Fishy Joe!
[dramatic sting]
[crowd cheering]
For too long, District 97 has been hostile
to the international chain restaurants
that give this and every
other neighborhood in the world
their unique local character.
I won't stand by as
greedy mom-and-pop joints
like that one
serve better food at lower prices.
[crowd] Boo!
If elected, I pledge
to impose a punitive tax
on these quaint eateries,
and funnel it to faceless
big money interests.
[crowd cheering]
This year, make sure
the election results are Fishy.
Vote Fishy Joe!
[dramatic music playing]
[crowd cheering]
Ooh, I hate-a his face.
I'd like to shove a fish stick
where the star of this-a
solar system don't-a shine.
We can't-a pay-a new tax!
We struggle for years
just to find-a pizza recipe
that doesn't make-a human metabolism say,
"Get it outta me!"
[Professor gumming pizza] Mm, mm!
The struggle paid off.
You have the tenderest pepperoni
I've ever gummed.
This Fish-a Joe gonna ruin us.
I wish-a there was a better candidate
or literally any other candidate.
How about you?
You're literally any other candidate.
Me? A humble alien with legislative
experience on her home planet,
and a can-do spirit?
I can-a no do.
Oh, come on, that's not
the Blazucchi I barely know.
I don't know you either.
I'll do it!
[victorious music playing]
I promise to make-a good government
the same way I make-a good pizza,
with lots-a hard work,
and whatever kinda mushroom
is-a the cheapest.
[crowd cheering]
[lines grunting]
[Linda] With the candidates
running neck and thorax
we welcome you to the first
of 15 live debates
between city council hopefuls
Fishy Joe Gilman,
Blazucchi Nolastname,
and latecomer Boxy Robot.
[Boxy Robot beeps]
[Linda laughs]
You and me both. [chuckles]
Candidates, start your blathering.
Thank you, laughing lady.
[Linda laughs]
My husband and I infested
this-a district with a big dream,
to make-a the pepperoni pizzas.
And everybody love them!
[crowd cheering]
Now hang on, hang on.
Let's talk about your pepperoni.
It's-a very tender, yes?
Yes suspiciously tender.
And you wanna know why it's so tender?
Many people are saying it's
because it's made from
human babies!
[dramatic sting]
[crowd gasps]
[Boxy Robot beeps]
Don't try to defend her.
They're fattening up
babies in the basement
and choppin' up the chubbiest ones
to make that sweet, innocent pepperoni!
People are saying.
- How many people?
- A lot.
One of the biggest numbers.
This is-a crazy!
I don't even know how to hatch a baby!
Wow, Fishy Joe just sank his own campaign.
No one could believe such insane lies.
You'd have to be a gullible,
deranged moron!
Yee-haw!
[crowd clamoring]
Let's go mob! Let's go mob!
Let's go mob!
How do ya like my mob?
[dramatic music playing]
[crowd clamoring]
[protester] Boo!
[over megaphone]
We demand you show us the basement!
Here's your slice, sir.
Sir, you seem to be yelling the loudest.
Can you tell us why you're protesting?
First of all, I need the exercise.
But also, they're making babies
into pepperoni!
[ominous music playing]
Down in their basement slaughterhouse.
[Bender burps]
[slurping]
[door bells jingle]
We don't even a-have a basement!
Come in and a-look!
See?
No basement, no bathroom.
Not even a ceiling in-a some places.
[water dripping]
[owls hooting]
You think you can cover up the truth
with a bunch of obvious facts?
Well, I got a mob who says otherwise!
[dramatic music playing]
[Bender] Let's go mob!
How-a we gonna prove-a
we don't got a basement?
We can't even prove we don't-a
got a restaurant a-license!
Easy! I'll just check
the city building records.
Do that thing I said.
[suspenseful music playing]
[wrist device beeping]
[chimes]
[wrist device] File not found.
[emotional] I tried my best!
Huh. This building must be too old
to have its blueprints online.
Then we're a-ruined.
We'll have-a to go out-a from-a business.
[Dwight sighs]
Guess I'm doomed to join
the Young Bureaucrats.
I won't let this happen!
I mean, I'll let the second part happen.
Yeah, right. What are you gonna do?
Stamp some stupid form?
Actually, son, we're going
on a thrillin' adventure!
Which might involve a few forms
being stamped.
[stamper cocking]
[adventurous music playing]
Let's get this party authorized!
[sign counter beeps]
[people chattering]
[whooshing]
[bell dings]
Now serving 18,307.
Finally, I can get my birth certificate!
Uh, I believe that's us.
[turnstile rattling]
Now serving 18,308.
[bell dings]
[gasping, thuds]
[somber music playing]
What's the holds-up with my pizza?
I'm-a sorry, we're a-short mandibled.
We lost our cheap child labor human.
I'm a cheap, childish human!
You haven't worked at
a pizzeria in a thousand years.
It requires zero skill!
That's why I'm so good at it.
[pizza sizzling]
[gasping] Hot! Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot!
You forgot-a the holding disc!
[gasps] My pants!
[crying] My beautiful pants!
So wash 'em.
You think they'll be okay?
- I've never washed them before.
- Ew!
- Yuck!
- Blecch!
- Why not?
- It's just
I couldn't bear to part with them.
Not even for 45 minutes.
[sniffles] They're one of the only things
I have left from my old life
before I got frozen.
Aww.
Wash your damn pants!
[washing machine rattling]
[spinner winding down]
[steam hissing]
There, see?
You're good to go
for another thousand years.
[fabric crunching]
No!
The stains was all there was!
[epic music playing]
[scanner beeping]
[metal cubicles clanging]
[bureaucrats] Whoa! Whoa!
Whoa!
[clanging continues]
[metal thuds]
[center-square bureaucrat] Who goes there?
And do you have any sea-sickness medicine?
[laughing]
Heck, I'd drink nail polish.
I am Hermes Conrad,
Bureaucrat Grade 37.
Oh, Hermes! My eyes must be goin'.
I thought you were Zsa Zsa Gabor.
- [quietly] Who?
- [quietly] I don't know. Just laugh.
[both fake laughing]
That wasn't a joke.
How can I help?
We're looking for some
ancient city building plans,
from before the Great Digitization.
On paper?!
[thunder crashing]
Hmm, must've blown a fuse or somethin'.
You may proceed to
the Labyrinth of Documentation!
[dramatic kettledrum music playing]
[door clatters, chains rattling]
[heavy thud]
[bureaucrat monks chanting]
Whoa it's a total no-man's land.
Sounds like my weekend.
[laughing]
[chuckling]
[sniffles, starts sobbing]
[mysterious music playing]
I didn't know there was this
much paper in the entire world!
It's like a vast paper forest.
What's a forest?
We're lookin' for some really old records.
Let me carbon-taste this ink.
[slurping]
Hmm. Only a hundred years old.
We'll need to go deeper.
[Dwight] Oh frack, a fork!
How do we know which way to go?
See these little black dots?
They're paper mites.
[scurrying]
Ugh!
Ah, these are bigger.
We'll take this path.
The bigger the mites,
the longer they've been feedin'.
[slurping]
You want a granola bar or somethin'?
[mysterious music playing]
[papers crunching]
[papers fluttering]
How are you supposed to find anything?
Seems like the papers
are just scattered randomly.
It may look that way to the uninitiated,
but to a seasoned bureaucrat,
this is art borderin' on the erotic.
- Dad!
- I said bordering!
It's arranged according to a mysterious,
ancient filing system
devised by the father
of modern bureaucracy,
the great Bureaucrates.
[dramatic music plays]
A true organizational genius.
What happened to him?
He got lost in his own files and died.
And alas, the secrets
of his system died with him.
[floor rumbling]
Whoa.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!
[dramatic music playing]
[paper shredder whirring]
[Hermes grunts]
[bust clatters]
Careful, son! It's a Shredlacc pit.
[dramatic music playing]
[blades whirring]
[groans] I should never
have brought you here.
- It's too excitin'.
- It really isn't.
[loud rumbling]
Shelfilanche!
[file cabinets crashing]
- We're trapped!
- Not yet, we're not.
[dramatic music playing]
[rapid clacking]
[Hermes grunting]
[tape whooshing]
Grab on, boy!
[both yelp]
[dramatic music playing]
[Hermes] We're getting close.
I can tell because
the paper mites are getting larger.
- How large?
- That large.
[dramatic sting]
[paper mite snarling]
[Dwight screaming]
Cowardly screams won't be enough, son.
We'll have to best this bug in combat!
But that thing's gonna inflict
at least 2d12 damage.
We'll never survive without armor!
How about chain mail?
[paper mite growling]
[protesters chanting]
We're not complacent.
Show us the basement!
We're not complacent.
Show us the basement!
Told ya it rhymed.
♪♪
Man, protestin' really
works up an appetite.
Wow, you're a hungry, hungry hypocrite.
Hey, a guy's gotta eat!
Actually, you don't.
[Fry sighs deeply]
Aw. How are you dealing
with the loss of your pants?
You know how these things go.
I'm taking it day by day.
So, you got new pants?
[emotional] No, it's too soon.
[melancholy music playing]
Wow, that took a really long time.
Thank you, son.
That's music to a bureaucrat's ears.
Now, let's slay that paper mite!
[paper mite snoring]
Huh. Guess we can just walk around it.
No way!
I didn't put nine hours into these
paper-clip codpieces for nothin'!
[blade slices]
You won't be comin' in on Monday!
[grunts]
[blade thumps]
[paper mite growls]
[snarling, roaring]
[armor clinking]
It's hopeless!
We have no weapon now!
Incorrect. In the hands of a bureaucrat,
paperwork can be lethal.
[dramatic music playing]
[papers fluttering]
[paper mite laughing]
[dramatic music playing]
[wind howling]
[footsteps crunching]
[Hermes shivering]
Why are you shiverin'?
It's not even cold in here.
It's kinda hot.
I know, but it just looks really cold.
Man, it's blinding!
I lost track of which direction
we were gettin' lost in.
This is how they say Bureaucrates died,
lost in a whiteout of his own paperwork.
[melancholy music playing]
I'm sorry, Dwight.
All I wanted was to share
my love of bureaucracy with you.
Instead, I'm fillin' out
our death certificates.
[pen scribbling]
Initial here and list the cause
of death as "stupid father."
[Dwight] It's okay, Pops.
At least we had a great
adventure together.
The best thing to do now is lie down
and freeze to death quickly.
You alive?
[hoofbeats approaching]
You hear somethin'?
[epic, heroic music playing]
Slower! Slower!
The storm's getting worse!
Get in quick before
you die of heat stroke!
[extension-cord whip snaps]
I don't believe it.
Are you Bureaucrates?
All questions must be
submitted in writing.
[gasps] It is you!
But the history books say
you were lost in a whiteout.
I still am!
[epic music playing]
Please, make yourselves uncomfortable.
How may I impede you?
We seek an ancient floor plan
predating the digital records.
But so far, we've been unable
to crack your legendary filing system.
Can you at least give us a hint?
You want a hint?
Here's a hint.
There is no system!
Can we get another hint?
[hysterical] I'm a fraud!
I just kept piling things up,
deeper and deeper.
I said I'd get to it on Monday,
but Monday never came
'cause my calendar was
under one of the piles!
But according to legend,
you could find anythin'.
I could because I had a general idea
of which pile to look in.
But no one else stood a chance!
So you created a filing system
so unsystematic
that literally nothing
could be done without you?
You truly are the greatest
bureaucrat who ever lived.
[sniffles]
Your pandering hero worship has moved me.
I thought I was a failure,
when all along I was a bottleneck!
Oh, a huge one!
Now, this is the buildin' address
we're lookin' for.
Ah, yes.
I remember filing this in Column Gamma.
Hmm, uh, no.
Uh, uh, must be this one.
Or, uh, maybe this one?
[paper temple crashing]
No, it was it was
the first one I grabbed earlier.
Here.
You have found your treasure,
but at great cost.
For alas,
there is no way out of this labyrinth.
I've been searching for 500 years.
Have you tried this door?
You can't use that! It's for emergencies.
[door creaking]
[alarm softly beeping]
Come with us, friend.
No. My place is here,
filing a false alarm report
that no one will ever see.
[soft beeping continues]
You are as a god.
[door closes, beeping stops]
[protesters chanting]
Show us the attic!
Wait, we mean the basement!
[muffled chanting continues outside]
Look here, Fishy Jerk!
These official records
will prove once and for all
that there is no basement!
[dramatic sting]
There's a basement?
[Professor grunting]
[dramatic sting]
[group gasping]
I knew that stuff I made up was true.
[suspenseful music playing]
What you are about to see
may be disturbing.
It better be!
A secret basement has been discovered
beneath Family Brothers Pizzeria,
the once-popular eatery
rumored to make pepperoni
from tender human babies.
Let us see what horrors lie below!
But they didn't even
know they had a basement!
What a crock of malarkey.
Leela, watch your language!
There's no baby butcher down there.
And, uh, let's arm ourselves just in case.
[glass bottle shatters]
I'm not scared.
Lead the way, somebody else.
I'll do it.
Without my pants,
life isn't worth living anyway.
[flames whooshing]
[group gasping, groaning]
Ew!
[softly] Get a shot of that.
What happened to your underpants?
[fire crackling]
[suspenseful music playing]
[suspenseful music swells]
[group gasps]
[Fishy Joe Gilman] There's nothin' here.
But it's filthy!
No self-respecting devil worshiper
would sacrifice babies in this dump!
Oh, my God!
Don't you mean, "Oh, my Satan"?
[dramatic sting]
[Fry]
It's the ruins of Panucci's Pizza!
Where I worked a thousand years ago.
Really? Directly under the other pizzeria?
It makes sense.
This address has been zoned
as a pizzeria for a millennium.
They must have just kept building them
one on top of another, on top of another,
until they built the second one,
and they were done.
So, my old locker must be right
here!
Ah! My spare delivery pants!
Should I put them on?
I think I speak for everyone when I say,
yes, dammit, yes!
And so, despite the overzealous
reporting of my colleague
[Linda laughing]
there is no baby-murdering
pepperoni operation
in this filthy basement.
We sincerely apologize for any
excitement we may have caused.
[static buzzing]
Well, I'm a sleazebag,
and the people of District 97
deserve better.
[gentle music playing]
Congratulations, Blazucchi.
I'm droppin' outta the race
to focus on my presidential ambitions.
[door creaking]
Hello
[all gasping]
Blecch?
What are you a-doing in mystery basement?
And where did you get that pepperoni?
Eh [chuckles nervously]
Well, I [sighs]
I a-show you.
[door creaking]
This is-a where I get
my melt-in-you-face pepperoni.
It's been a-dry aging
for a thousand years.
Wow, since Fry worked here!
[nostalgic music playing]
[Fry] I remember it
like it was yesteryear
only, we didn't hang
pepperoni from the ceiling.
We just stuck it on a high shelf
to keep the laziest rats away.
[fly buzzing]
The only thing hanging from the ceiling
was fly paper.
[Zoidberg] So where'd
the pepperoni come from?
[mysterious music playing]
[mechanical whirring]
[dramatic sting]
[Bender gags] It's a log of dead flies!
[all gagging]
At least it's not babies.
Uh
Do you, Boxy Robot, solemnly
swear to uphold the obscure
and trivial ordinances of District 97?
[Boxy Robot beeps]
Well, you may not have gotten elected,
but at least your reputation is, uh
never mind.
So, you think you might
follow in my footsteps,
now that you've seen how thrillin'
bureaucracy can be?
No. I still find bureaucracy super boring.
[gentle music playing]
But
I think you're pretty cool.
That's 92.5% of all I could ask for.
Hey, it's our handsome waiter!
And he's wearing pants!
[solemn music playing]
I swear before God almighty
that these pants will never see
the inside of a washing machine.
[music stops]
No. No, no, no, no!
[Leela] What is it?
Pineapple!
♪♪
[fanfare playing]