<b>Fry: </B>Did you build the Smelloscope?

<b>Professor Hubert Farnsworth: </b>No, I remembered that I'd built one last year. Go ahead, try it. You'll find that every heavenly body has its own particular scent. Here, I'll point it at Jupiter.

<b>Fry: </B>Smells like strawberries.

<b>Professor Hubert Farnsworth: </b>: Exactly. And now, now Saturn.

<b>Fry: </B>Pine needles. Oh, man, this is great... hey, as long as you don't make me smell Uranus.

<b>Leela: </b>I don't get it.

<b>Professor Hubert Farnsworth: </b> I'm sorry, Fry, but astronomers renamed Uranus in 2620 to end that stupid joke once and for all.

<b>Fry: </B>Oh. What's it called now?

<b>Professor Hubert Farnsworth: </b>Urrectum. Here, let me locate it for you.

<b>Fry: </B>No, no, I, I think I'll just smell around a bit over here.

<B>Bender:</b> Bite my shiny metal ass.

<b>Fry: </b>It doesn't look so shiny to me.

<b>Bender: </b>Shinier than yours, meatbag.

<b>Professor Farnsworth:</b> It just so happens that I need a new crew.
<b>Fry: </b>What happened to your old crew?
<b>Professor Farnsworth:</b> Oh those poor sons of— but that's not important, the important thing is that I need a new crew.

<b>Leela:</b> Fry, if I drop dead from exhaustion, make sure my body freezes in a dignified position; none of that huddled over for warmth crap.

<b>Dr. Zoidberg: </B>Once again, the conservative sandwich-heavy portfolio pays off for the hungry investor!

<B>Amy: </b>Lucky I'm a member of the Austro-Afro-Antarctico-Amer-Asian Auto Association. Hello, Septuple-A?

<b>Hermes: </B>Exciting news, people! The pet licence I requisitioned for Nibbler has arrived.
<b>Leela: </b>Hermes, that's sweet. I didn't know you cared about Nibbler.
<b>Hermes: </b>Dream on, woman. I'd like to put the little bastard in a sack and toss the sack in a river and hurl the river into space. But I do like filling out requisitions and these were some doozies!
[Hermes opens the envelope.]
<B>Hermes: </b>Great Jah's dreadlocks! There's been a mix-up: This isn't a pet licence, it's a fishing licence! And it's mandatory!

<b>Fry: </b>I did do the nasty in the past-y.
<b>Nibbler: </b>Verily! And that past nastification is what shields you from the brains. You are the last hope of the universe.
<b>Fry: </b>So I really am important? How I feel when I'm drunk is correct?
<b> Nibbloninan: </b>Yes, except the Dave Matthews Band doesn't rock.

<b>Morbo:</b> “Morbo will now introduce tonights candidates. Puny human
number one, puny human number two and Morbo’s good friend
Richard Nixon.”
<B>Nixon: </b>“Hello Morbo. How’s the family?”
<b>Morbo:</b> “Belligerent and numerous.”
<b>Nixon:</b> “Good man, Nixon’s pro-war and pro-family.”

<b>Morbo:</b> “Morbo demands an answer to the following question. If you saw
a delicious candy in the hands of a small child. Would you
seize and consume it?”
<B>John Jackson:</b> “Unthinkable.”
<B>Jack Johnson:</b> “I wouldn’t think of it.”
<b>Morbo:</b> “What about you Mr. Nixon? I remind you. You are under of a
truth-o-scope.”
<B>Nixon: </b>“The question is vague.... You don’t say what kind of candy and
whether anyone is watching. At any rate I certainly wouldn’t
harm the child.”

<i> Truth O'scope goes crazy</i>

<b>Zapp: </b>Kif, I'm feeling the captain's itch.

<b>Kif: </B>I'll get the powder, sir.

<b>Zapp: </b> No, the itch for adventure! Prepare to change course.

<b>Kif: </B> Sir, this is a leisure cruise. Our path was set by the travel agency.

[He presses a button and a map comes down on the wall showing the route is a straight line from Earth to another planet.]

<b>Zapp: </b> That's for schoolgirls! Now here's a route with some chest hair.

[He squiggles a new course onto the map.]

<b>Kif: </B>But that course leads directly through a swarm of comets.

<b>Zapp: </b>Yes, comets! The icebergs of the sky. By jack-knifing from one to the next at breakneck speed we might just get some kind of gravity boost ... or something. [Kif sighs.] It's time to shove a jalapeño up this ships tailpipe. [He grabs the wheel.] Divert power from the shields, full speed ahead!

<B>Kif:</b> My plan is to take all the remaining buggalo and lead them on a rough, tough cattle drive. Then, when the rustlers attack, I'll make a citizen's arrest!

<B>Farnsworth: </B>It sounds dangerous. Someone could get killed. Fry, Leela, Bender, I want you to go with him.

<B>Fry: </B>Aw, man!

[Leela sighs. Bender mocks Farnsworth.]

<B>Kif:</b>Don't worry, Mr. and Mrs. Wong. I'll get your cattle back or die trying.

<B>Mr. Wong:</b> Hey, we can't lose!

<B>Robot Devil:</B>Ah, Bender, Fry. You've come back for more eternal damnation.

[Bender stands up and dust himself off.]

<B>Bender:</B> No, this isn't a religious visit. Fry just wants holophonor lessons.

[Fry stands up.]

<B>Fry:</b> Yep. I need to get really good without practising.

[The Robot Devil cackles.]

<B>Robot Devil:</B> Hell is full of ten-year-olds who wanted exactly the same thing. Trouble is, you have what my old music teacher, Mrs. Mellenger, calls "stupid fingers". [He twiddles his own fingers then slaps them.] With hands like that you'll be lucky to master a belt buckle. [Fry looks down and sees his trousers have fallen around his ankles. He quickly pulls them up.] Now wouldn't it be nice if you had a pair of robot hands to replace them?

<B>Fry:</b> Sure would. [He shrugs.] Oh, well. Goodbye.

[He turns around and Bender stops him.]

<B>Bender:</B>Fry, you smelly idiot, I think he's willing to make some kind of deal with the devil with you.

<B>Fry:</b>He-He-He is? [He turns around.] Great! Wait, what's the catch?

<B>Robot Devil:</B> No catch. I'll merely pick a robot at random from somewhere in the universe, probably one you've never even met, and then I'll remove his hands and switch them for yours. [Bender rubs his hands with glee.] It's just the sort of guy I am. What do you say?

<B>Fry:</b> I don't know. It doesn't seem entirely moral to--

<B>Bender:</B> Fry, if you don't take this offer right now I will lose all respect for you and punch you.

<B>Linda </b>: With Halley's Comet out of ice, Earth is experiencing the devastating effects of sudden intense global warming.

<B>Morbo</B>: Morbo is pleased but sticky. The scorching heat has melted the polar ice caps causing floods of biblical proportions.

[The shot changes to a swamped city with an ark floating through it.]

<B>Gay Sailor </B>: They called me crazy for building this ark.

<B>Man</B>: You are crazy, you built it with same sex animal couples!

<B>Gay Sailor </B>: Hey! There are parts of the Bible I like and parts I don't like.

[The shot changes to a live windmill landscape.]

<B>Morbo</B>: Direct your attention now to the African turtles seen here migrating to cooler homes in Holland.

[A turtle rolls onto the back of its shell and can't get up.]

<B>Bender</b>(crying): That poor turtle!

<b>Fry</B>: Bender? Are you crying?

<B>Bender</b>: Uh no! Never!

[He wipes his eyes with windscreen wipers.]

<B>Morbo</B>: Morbo wishes these storward nomads peace among the Dutch tulips!

<B>Linda </b>: I'm sure those windmills will keep them cool.

<B>Morbo</B> (shouting): Windmills do not work that way! Goodnight!