Futurama s03e10 Episode Script

The Luck of the Fryfish - Push, Mrs.
Fry.
You're almost there.
|- Squeeze one out for America, honey.
Keep it down,|it's the ninth inning.
Here's the pitch to Crypool.
|He's called on a strike three.
Swing the bat, you bum! - It's a boy with red hair.
|- You saying my son's a commie? And Groady leans into the pitch.
|It hits him.
The Mets Win.
This is the happiest day of my life.
- Here's your baby.
|- Okay, thanks.
- What should we name him?|- You pick.
I picked dinner.
I was thinking of Philip,|after those screwdrivers.
That's a fantastic idea.
|More morphine, please! - Look, Yancy, it's baby Philip.
|- I wanna be named Philip.
Me Philip! Me Philip! Son, your name is Yancy, just like me,|and my grandfather and so on.
All the way back|to minuteman Yancy Fry who blasted commies|in the American Revolution.
Philip, until I find a suitable|model of an ICBM you'll have to make do|fearing this toy spacecraft.
Mine! Mine! - Come on!|- Baby needs new shoes.
To hell with your baby.
|I need those shoes.
It's a dead heat.
They're|checking the electron microscope.
The Winner is Number Three|in a quantum finish.
No fair! You changed the outcome|by measuring it.
- How did you do, Fry?|- I'll tell you when my horse finishes.
Bad.
We owned four horses|and two jockeys.
We just put a jockey out to stud.
|He's perfect for you.
Hey, baby, ever do it in a suitcase? Look, it's a centaur race.
Ow! Ow! Ow! Come on, come on! Hey, Leela, how about a kiss|for good luck? I meant tongue luck.
The Winner is Number Four, Steven.
I've run over black cats|that were luckier than me.
Get your hot horse-burgers,|horse-fries, horse-cakes and shakes.
- Tongue straight from the horse's mouth.
|- It all sounds good.
All our horses are 100%%% horse-fed|for that double juiced-in goodness.
I'll have a cholesterol-free|omelet with horse-beaters.
- How can I horse you, sir?|- I'll have a horse Coke.
- Horse Pepsi okay?|- Neigh! - Hey! What are you doing?|- This.
Dear Horse God, I don't usually pray.
|Sometimes I doubt you even exist.
But if you're willing to grant me luck,|please, stamp your hoof once.
Come on, Number Six.
Move it! Don't do that.
What are you? It's contagious.
And the Winner is|Harry Trotter by the entire racetrack.
Yahoo! That'll teach those horses|to take drugs.
That's it! You can only take|my money for so long before you take it all.
|I say, enough! I've got one dollar left,|and this one I'm holding on to.
Oh, no, you don't.
I may not know about horses, but I|know lots about doing anything for $1.
If you think bad luck can defeat me,|you don't know my name is Philip J Phew! That is one unlucky guy.
Kareem has the sky hook,|but Philip J.
Fry has the space hook.
Yancy drives, he goes up|with his patented space hook.
Hey! That's my patented space hook.
|You stole it.
You're not the president of it.
Holy camolie! A seven-leaf clover.
I'm dying of old age! Game over! Phil wins.
|Yancy's fans are stunned.
There'll be no celebration|at the Yancy Dome.
Lucky! Someone's in a good mode.
Let's say I lucked out at the track.
|Also I rigged one race.
I'd have won too, if I still had my|seven-leaf clover.
Plus, I'd still have my hair.
I got your page, Mr.
Fry.
|Your new hair is ready.
What happened to this clover? I hid it in a secret place and never|told anyone.
Not even Scruffy.
- So is it still in the hiding place?|- Yeah, maybe it is still there.
In the ruins of Old New York.
|Helping one ant defeat another.
- Or giving luck to a piece of dirt.
|- Dirt doesn't need luck.
I'm going to get my clover back! Some of the tunnels have metal bars.
|Who's good at bending? - How about you?|- Sure.
- But Bending's my middle name.
|- It is? Yep.
My full name is|Bender Bending Rodriguez.
Here's the entrance.
From this moment,|I declare my bad luck officially over.
He was fun.
If we get bored looking for the clover,|I've got Tetris on this thing.
Look, up ahead.
|Old New York.
The city that inspired|a casino in Las Vegas.
We've got Manhattan|all to ourselves.
I can finally do the crazy stuff|I always dreamed.
Howard Stern is overrated.
- Oops!|- New York is so burned.
- Remember Giuliani stopping jaywalking?|- No.
Well, Rudy, how do you like|this action? The big breakdance battle|is Saturday.
If we wanna win|Jam Master Jay's parachute pants our crew has to pop,|lock and bust the freshest.
Noticeably F.
A.
T.
, drop us a beat.
- Name?|- Cosmic F.
- Style?|- Outer space.
- Special moves?|- The moonwalk.
The robot.
|The zero G.
- Name?|- Cosmic Y.
- Style?|- Deep Space.
Deep Space?! - Special moves?|- The space-walk.
- The robot.
|- That's similar to mine.
The zero G.
- You totally ripped off my routine.
|- You calling me a biter? Why do you always have|to steal everything from me, Yancy? - Stop illing.
Word.
|- I'd like to see you steal this: The septuple head-spin! He's just scratching.
No one's done|more than a quadruple.
Oh, yeah? Noticeably F.
A.
T.
,|rewind the tape.
Crazy sucker.
- Phil, you're hot.
|- That was ice-cold, bro.
Fry, if I ever see you try|anything that crazy again this crew might just have|some new parachute pants.
Stop hogging the clover.
- Let's go find that clover.
|- Which way to your house? - The sign says we're at 71st Street.
|-71st Street? Never heard of it.
- Downtown could be in any direction.
|- We'll just take a spin on the B-train.
That feels funny! This is the Brooklyn-bound B-train,|stopping wherever I feel like.
Watch for the closing doors.
Wake up, buddy.
End of the line.
My old neighborhood.
That's the bench where I found shirts.
|We used to light that hydrant on fire! On that corner, some guy|handed out a socialist newsletter.
- Was it poorly xeroxed?|- Oh, yeah.
The comedians were right.
|This is different from L.
A.
- Did you say you used to live here?|- That's right.
- Did you know Andy Goldman?|- He was my neighbor.
Why? - I mutated from him.
|- What's he up to these days? I'm teaching.
- He seemed nice.
|- Sure, when he's sober.
Holy camolie! The house I grew up in,|it's still there! Man, Father Time really took|a bat to this place.
That stupid clover is a worthless|piece of garbage.
Give it! Mom, help! Yes! - Yancy's trying to steal my clover.
|- Yancy, stealing is wrong.
I'm gonna pile drive you.
|You're dead meat! What's happening? Did Kremlin Joe|let fly with the nukes? Not yet, commander.
|Yancy's trying to steal my stuff.
He better keep his hands|off these bananas.
Gonna need them when the radiation|turns us all into monkeys.
The Ronco Record Vault.
Yancy will|never get his hands on you in here.
The Breakfast Club soundtrack.
I can't wait until I'm old enough|to feel ways about stuff.
Stay safe, clover.
|I may need you again someday.
My dad spent years turning this|into a bomb shelter.
- Yet there was no nuclear war.
|- What a waste.
This is it.
My Ronco Record Vault.
I still remember the combination.
Three.
It's stuck.
The Achilles' heel of the Ronco design|is its structural resonance frequency.
There we go.
- Here's The Breakfast Club soundtrack.
|- You mean breakfast club sandwich? I hid my clover in the jacket|so my brother, Yancy, wouldn't get it.
Here goes.
It's gone! The whole place|has been cleaned out.
- Yancy stole my clover.
|- How do you know it didn't disintegrate? - Everything else held up okay.
|- Except Sports, by Huey Lewis.
- My brother hated me so much.
|- Brothers always fight.
He just never got a chance to say|he loved you before you got frozen.
You think? Because I always|kind of wished that- - Who is that godlike figure?|- It's my brother, Yancy.
And there's my seven-leaf clover.
|I knew he stole it.
If that's Yancy, why does|the inscription say Philip J.
Fry? Wait a second.
That's my name.
Good Lord! He ditched his goofy name|and stole mine.
Apparently, this brave adonis,|this Cadillac of men - was the "first person on Mars.
"|First person on Mars?! That should've been me! He stole my clover, he stole my name|and he stole my life.
- And now he broke my hand.
|- His legend lives on.
You opened the vault,|and the clover was gone? Nothing in there|but the best music of the 1980s.
Survivor, Pat Benatar, The Scorpions.
|The list goes on.
My brother stole my dream|of going into space.
- Now I'll never get there.
|- You went this morning.
"First person on Mars.
"|So your brother was that Philip J.
Fry.
- I'm Philip J.
Fry! He stole my name.
|- Shut up, friends.
My browser heard the word "Fry"|and found the Philip J.
Fry movie.
It also opened my calendar to Friday|and ordered some french fries.
Philip J.
Fry, astronaut,|philanthropist, entrepreneur Was a great man,|truly Worthy of narration.
Fry Was the first man on Mars,|a feat never equaled.
It should've been me! The ever-lucky Fry|made his fortune by striking oil in the mansion|he had Won in a lottery.
That's my clover.
He stole it! After a fling With|Icelandic supermodel, Njord Fry scored many hits|With his band, Leaf Seven knoWn for their hypnotic rhythms|and memorable hooks.
I'm known for that! Phil came and strummed out this tune,|and I said that's a number-one record.
Fry noW spends his time in a|grave at Orbiting MeadoWs Cemetery buried With his trademark clover|to bring him luck in the next life.
That's where my clover is.
|Is that cemetery near here? - It will be in a couple of hours.
|- Good, we're going grave robbing.
I'll get my kit.
Your tux will be perfect|for my wedding, Dad.
Yancy, that tux got|me through Nam in style.
- I wish your bother could see this.
|- I remember the day he disappeared.
Wisconsin won the Rose Bowl 17-9.
|Oh, I miss him.
I was gonna rummage through|Phil's records to play at the wedding.
He may be missing,|but his crap sure isn't.
Breakfast Club.
This will clear|the room after the reception.
He's buried in the world heroes|section? I'm impressed.
I should be the one in that grave! We lost Bender.
Now no one will be able to say|I don't own John Larroquette's spine.
Aha! My brother's grave! "Philip Fry, the original Martian.
" It's all lies.
He wasn't original.
|He wasn't a Martian.
- He wasn't Philip.
He wasn't a "the.
"|- You're twice the "the" he ever was.
It's clovering time.
- So, had any ideas for names, Yancy?|- I'm sort of thinking one.
Daddy has a present for you.
|Know what it is? It's a lucky clover to help you be successful,|even at breakdancing.
It belonged to someone very special.
I know what name you want|to give him.
It's okay.
Really? Son, I'm naming you|Philip J.
Fry in honor of my little brother,|who I miss every day.
I love you, Philip.
|And I always will.
"Here lies Philip J.
Fry,|named for his uncle to carry on his spirit.
" Pay dirt! I got the clover, plus his|wedding ring.
Sorry, ladies, I'm taken.
Hey, Fry, you want me|to smack the corpse up a little? Uh, Bender, I think Fry|needs a moment alone.
Okay, grab a shovel.
I'm one skull|short of a Mouseketeer reunion.