Futurama s03e02 Episode Script

War Is the H Word Spider, Hubble, Nit Big Pink! The gum with the|breath-freshening power of ham.
And it pinkens your teeth|while you chew.
All right, sergeant, $100 of|Pixie Stix and porno mags with your 5 percent|military discount, comes to $95.
Forty cents.
You forgot our|5 percent discount.
Only for military people.
What? This is the worst kind|of discrimination! - The kind against me!|- Look, our policy is if for any reason you're|not satisfied, I hate you.
Okay, now I'm mad.
Full price for gum?|That dog won't hunt, Monsignor.
Hello.
We're here because|we love our planet.
Sign here, patriots.
|You'll get your discount cards.
Can we use the cards to buy gum,|then quit the Army? Playing you all for chumps? Correct.
There's no obligation.
Unless, of course, war were declared.
- What's that?|- War were declared.
Be careful, Fry.
If you kill anyone,|make sure to eat their heart to gain their courage.
|Their rich, tasty courage.
I don't want you to worry|about your jobs.
That's why I'm firing you now.
I want to enlist.
|They always die if I'm not there.
Sorry.
|The Army's policy is men only.
- What?|- Shameful, I agree.
In the old days, I proudly fought with|female troops, shoulder to shoulder.
After some deadly blunders caused|by distracting low-cut fatigues and harmless pinching,|the Army decided women weren't fit.
- Not when I'm in charge.
|- Someone should teach you a lesson.
If it's a lesson in love, I suffer|from a very sexy learning disability.
- What do I call it, Kif?|- Sex-lexia.
Men, you're lucky.
Soon you'll|be fighting for your planet.
Many of you will die for it.
A few will be forced through|a fine mesh screen.
They'll be the luckiest.
- Great.
We're gonna die.
|- And this ham gum is all bones.
Now, to present the logistics|of our mission welcome the original Gerber Baby Earth President Richard M.
Nixon.
This is the brass ring, fellas.
- Planet Spheron One.
|- Cool effect! A desolate, ugly planet with no natural resources|or strategic value.
Questions? - Why is this planet worth dying for?|- Can't say, you're the one who'll die.
So we'll know,|who's the enemy? We know nothing|about their language history, or appearance.
|But we can assume this: They stand for everything|we don't stand for.
Also, they said|you look like dorks! They look like dorks!|I'm gonna What's the matter, private?|Tent got your tongue? Kif, write that down and send it|to Humor in Uniform.
That guy makes Speedy Gonzales|look like Regular Gonzales.
That recruit is phenomenal! Yes.
He edged out my old mark|by two seconds.
And 16 minutes.
|And 12 hours.
I do plan to finish someday, Kif.
Good hustle, soldier.
Sorry, sir.
I was still in attack|mode.
You know how testosterone is.
As a bubbling Crock-Pot|of male hormones, I sure do.
- What's your name, private?|- Lee, La, Man.
La Man.
Lemon! Lee Lemon, sir.
Lemon, you're a man's man.
|A man's man's man.
More importantly, your hand,|while firm and manly is soft as a velvet child.
|What's your lotion? Pert and Popular.
Roger that.
|Get me 10 cases of Pert and Popular.
What about your Jergens? Squirt it on some homeless man|with dry elbows.
Private Lee Lemon may well be|the finest recruit I've ever seen.
That young man fills me with hope.
And some other emotions that are weird|and deeply confusing me.
Hello.
Now that's a nice rosé.
Anyway, we open up the panda crate|and the thing's dead.
Upchucked its bamboo.
|True story.
That's whatever you were talking|about for you.
- Mind if we sit with you?|- Why the hell would I? We're all guys here.
|Sweaty, hairy, gassy guys.
- Good point.
I guess.
|- You're my kind of soldier.
A foul-mouthed, barrel-chested,|beer-bellied pile of ugly muscle.
- Who's got a special lady back home?|- I have a thing for this girl at work.
Really? What type is she?|Blond, or Chinese, or Cyclops? - Cyclops.
|- She sounds sweet.
But sweet girls aren't for you.
You hard-fighting, hard-farting,|ugly son of a Stop flattering me! Ten hut! Well, well, well.
|If it isn't Lee Lemon the flaming star|of Brannigan's Rough Rangers.
Lemon, do you like to read?|I got a great book on tape.
It's about life in ancient Greece.
Sir, the alarm! I think I'd better Don't talk.
Just go.
We're now in position|above Spheron One.
This is the moment we trained|for all yesterday afternoon.
Now, the battle plan.
The key|to victory is the element of surprise.
Surprise! It's creepy.
This is the worst part.
|The calm before the battle.
- And then the battle's not so bad?|- Right, I forgot about the battle.
- What's happening?|- Holy shoot! Look! The enemy! They're balls! - Charge your gun, Fry!|- Right.
Watch where you're shooting, private!|You spooked Felicity.
- Give this to my son.
|- You got it! Wait.
I didn't tell you|where he lives.
Your son might also like those boots.
Cover us, buddy! You got the only|wounded-up positron shooter! Fry, you emu-bellied coward! Bender, no! If they put me on a stamp,|tell them to use the young Bender.
Incoming Wounded! All personnel,|report to operating tent four! I mean, five! Repeat, four.
Ready to operate? I'd love to.
|But first, I have to perform surgery.
I kid.
I kid.
Scalpel.
Blood bucket.
- Priest.
Next patient!|- Leave some for the enemy to kill.
Leave him alone!|He has twice your training.
Yeah, he's a doctor and a butcher.
This is how it starts.
|First jokes, then the heavy stuff.
When will the killing end? Look at this sissy.
While others|fought and died pointlessly he was hiding,|wallowing in his own cowardice.
- That wasn't cowardice.
|- I'm depromoting you.
Kif, what's the most humiliating job? - Being your assistant.
|- Wrong! Being your assistant.
Private, henceforth,|you'll be Kif's assistant.
- That's not bad.
|- You speak when I say so, worm! - I'm afraid he's gone.
|- Doc, I ain't dead! - Excuse me, I believe I'm the doctor.
|- Believing it won't make it true.
It isn't a war.
It's a murder.
|It isn't war, it's murder! Bender, old buddy, hang in there! Here lies the bravest soldier|I've ever seen since me.
I order that he be melted down|and made into a statue of himself.
Slow down, I'm up to something here.
I want this robot fixed.
Fixed like|Kennedy fixed the 1960 election.
- Damn bean-eating war hero!|- Ready to operate, doc? I'd love to.
|But first, I have to perform surgery.
That's my joke! I'll kill you! Prewar scotch.
- Welcome, lieutenant.
Looking sharp.
|- I got wheels! With clickity-clackers! Where's the little umbrella?|It's what makes a scotch on the rocks! Actually, sir Make me a new one.
Use a brush, you dunderhead! And mix these mixed nuts!|I see two almonds touching! Listen, this war is in danger|of going all quagmire on me.
So I am sending you|on one last mission.
Hot diggity daffodil! A mission of peace.
You'll negotiate with their leaders,|the Brain Balls.
They've got lots of brains|and lots of chutzpa.
Joining you is our top peace|negotiator, Henry Kissinger.
- How are you?|- Is he any good? Looking like that, he talked his way|into Jill St.
John's bed.
A little lower.
Lower.
Lower.
A lot lower.
Too low! Lower.
Private Lemon! No need to leave.
|My stall just became free.
Maybe you should put on a towel.
Right.
I'm trying the new lotion|you recommended.
If I accidentally put too much|on my hands, I could rub it on you Brannigan!|My God, cover yourself.
I didn't live 1000 years to look|at another man's gizmo.
Sorry, Mr.
President.
|I didn't realize.
Kif, raise him up nipple high.
Stuff yourself into a uniform.
We have|to leave before the bomb goes off.
Bomb! What bomb? The doctors put it|in that gullible robot.
Zapp! Zapp!|Inspect the troops later.
It's time to activate the bomb.
Now ask for economic cooperation.
Excuse me.
Attention! Everyone, evacuate|the planet immediately! Not because|it's meatloaf night.
Come, Lemon,|before this dump blows up.
Could you say when the bomb|is exploding? Sure, my significant soldier.
|It's voice-activated.
It'll detonate when the robot|speaks a certain word.
What's the word? Sir.
It's the one word the robot uses most.
We got it from this database|of his 10 most frequently used words.
Number 10: "CHUMP" Number 9: "CHUMPETTE" Number 8: "YOURS" Number 7: "UP" Number 6: "PIMPMOBILE" Number 5: "BITE" Number 4: "MY" Number 3: "SHINY" Number 2: "DAFFODIL" And Bender's most frequently|uttered word the word which|can destroy this planet: - "ASS"|- We don't have long! We demand bouncing,|folloWed by rolling of the third type.
What? My chair's too hard.
|It's a pain in the What do you call it?|Lower back! That whole region.
I got to break that gate,|beat up the guards steal that chopper|and rescue Bender.
- I did it! Wait, that's not me.
|- Come on! We got to save Bender! - You want to save him? Why?|- Fry, don't you recognize me? - Hermes?|- Lee, when will I see you again? You two are good friends? But I thought we would|be good friends.
Let's see how friendly you get|when you're sharing a prison cell.
Hey, Zapp? - Leela!|- So it's you I've been attracted to! I've never been so happy|to be beaten up by a woman.
Let's do it again sometime.
The elders tell|of a young ball like you.
He bounced 3 meters in the air.
|Then 1.
8 meters in the air.
Then he bounced 4 meters in the air.
|Do I make myself clear? Mr.
Ambassador,|our people tell the same story.
These balls are making me testy! If they don't stop bouncing,|I'll shove this treaty up their - Where do you shove things up a ball?|- Not a productive area of discussion.
We're here.
|I followed the bouncing balls.
I'll keep a safe altitude.
|You parachute down.
My friend's life is at stake.
|I can finally prove I'm not a coward.
- Will you push me?|- I already did! Thank you! At last, war has made me into a man.
Gentlemen, we must put an end|to the bloodshed.
We've seen too many body bags|and ball sacks.
We can't allow bouncing|of the seventh variety.
No more crap! I'm catching|the next pimpmobile out! But before I go,|I have one thing to say.
- Bite my shiny metal|- Stop! You can't say the next word! Up yours, chump!|I said it 906 times before lunch.
If you say the A-word, you'll blow|this planet straight to the H-word.
Young man, you have the bravery|of a hero.
And breath as fresh as a summer ham.
- What's funny?|- Bender's got the upper hand now.
The game's name is: Make Bender|Happy, or He Blows Up the Planet! I'd rather die and kill everybody than|sit here listening to these idiots! Stay calm.
|No need to bounce off the handle.
- That's it, I'll say it! A is for|- Wait! Stop! We give in to all demands.
The|war is over.
Our home planet is yours.
All right! - Wait! We're invading your planet?|- Correct.
I guess you learned a valuable lesson.
|Don't mess with Earth! - May you bounce in peace.
|- Get the hell off my planet! Well, that's it.
|Let's reactivate him.
Wake up! Chumps and chumpettes!|Is the bomb out? - Can I say the word I love to say?|- Sorry, we couldn't remove it.
It's stuck in there with glue|or something.
Great.
What's the point|of living if I can't say "ass"? I didn't blow up!|Ass, ass, ass, ass! I'm back in the saddle! We couldn't disarm it.
|We changed the word.
A word you almost never say.
- That's using your ass.
And the word?|- Better if you don't know.
Come on, I'm not going to say it.
|Please? - Is it "please"?|- No.
- Words I never say.
I know, "thanks"!|- Stop trying to destroy the world.
Wait.
Is it "sorry"?|No.
"Funderful"? - "Nonalcoholic"?|- Quit! Enough already.
"Compassion.
" "Shrimp toast.
"|"Antiquing"? I'm all right.