Futurama: Bender's Game

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(BELCHING)

Yes, 10!

Well done, Cubonius.

You decapitated the unicorn.

-Swell.

-All right.

Oh, oh!

We search his tail pouch for treasure.

Deep in the unicorn's rump sack, you find.

(ALL GASPING)

60 gold pieces

and a mysterious scrap of cloth bearing

the unmistakable stench of dwarf urine.

The same stench

that was on the bed linens at the inn?

-The very same.

-Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

I cast a spell of detect magic.

What you doing, mini-meatbags?

Underage gambling?

Shame on you.

Count me in.

We're not gambling.

We're playing Dungeons & Dragons.

Right now, we're fighting for our lives

in the lair of the dragon queen.

Wrong, right now you're

ass-deep in a folding chair.

Yes, but in my imagination

I'm riding a golden Pegasus.

Giddy up, Sparky!

Am I the only one seeing him sitting here

with peanut butter on his face?

Bender, were you built

without an imagination?

What? Don't be stupid, of course not.

It just hasn't descended yet.

Fry, do I have an imagination?

I don't know, Bender. Why do you ask?

Were the other boys making fun of you?

Mmm-hmm.

They said I couldn't imagine things.

Well, you never know unless you try.

Like, I didn't know

if I could swallow a softball,

so I gave it my best shot and voila!

Wait, that's not it.

There she blows.

(ALARM BEEPING)

COMPUTER:

Warning, out of dark matter fuel.

That's not a warning.

A warning is supposed to come

before something bad happens.

COMPUTER:
Warning,

engines will shut down in one second.

That's more like it.

(ENGINES DYING)

Uh-oh.

This space neighborhood

looks kind of sketchy.

Rock 'n' roll.

That punk stole our hood ornament.

Now no one will know

we have the LX package.

LEELA:

We need dark matter and we need it fast.

Fry, check Nibbler's litter box.

Maybe he dropped a steamer.

Aye, aye, Captain.

Yes! I've never been so excited

to see poop.

Well, maybe once.

(GRUNTING)

(ALL CHEERING)

There's gas in our ass.

(HUMMING)

Can you believe the price of dark matter?

It'd be cheaper to fill the tank

with Nobel Prize winners' sperm.

COMPUTER:

Total dark matter purchased, $632. 14.

Your Speedpass will now be charged.

(EXCLAIMS)

You lousy...

REDNECK:
Hey,

gets a loads of that ugly ship.

What shades of green is that? Puke?

(REDNECKS LAUGHING)

For your information

it's called Electric Mucus.

More like puke.

Whoa!

Yeah, why don't you come a little closer

so my boot can hear you?

Calm down, Leela.

You can vent tonight on your blog.

What's the matters,

you couldn't affords the LX package?

Puke-a-doodle-do.

You're making fun of our ship?

Your ship is the most beat-up thing

I've ever seen,

and I've seen Mickey Rourke's head.

Yeah, she's a little worky,

but you got to gets big time ugly to be

five-time winners at a demolition derby.

That's five more times than we've won

or even entered.

We do suck.

Yup, and it's gonna be six winses

after tonights.

We'll sees abouts that.

Dark matter costs have tripled,

so we must reduce expenses.

Therefore, we will no longer provide

complimentary porno magazines

in the lounge.

-Darn it.

-And no more wasting fuel.

From now on I'll be keeping a tight hold

on the keys to the ship,

swallowing them before I go to bed

and recovering them the next morning.

(EXCLAIMS DISGUSTEDLY)

Professor, it's 4:00.

4:
00 in the evening? Then, good night.

I don't care what the Professor says.

We're entering that demolition derby

to prove our ship isn't a piece of junk.

But won't that turn our ship

into a piece of junk?

Shut up, Zoidberg.

He's right, Leela.

But we have no choice.

Rednecks insulted us.

So? Let it go.

Don't let your temper get the better of...

Rednecks!

(SNORING)

Using this magneto,

I will now guide the keys up the thorax

and out via the frontal face hole.

(FARNSWORTH COUGHING)

That's the storage locker, the bolt,

the other bolt, pay dirt!

WOMAN:
(SINGING) Rocket ship.

Rocket ship.

RICH:
Greetings, sports fans.

Though whether

this outpouring of inbreds

can in fact be classified as a sport

is a subject of no small scholarly debate.

Well, wells, well, if it ain'ts

Princess Pukerella

and her pukey puke-mobile.

Oh, yeah? Well... Shut up.

-Good comeback, Leela.

-You shut up, too.

(BENDER SCREAMS)

Rich Little, here, as Howard Cosell.

And now to grace us with its rendition

of the national anthem,

please welcome what is lef

of the Dixie Chicks

afer their tragic

matter transporter accident.

We 're in horrible pain.

(ALL CHEERING)

RICH:
And we are underway.

Whoas!

Yes! Now we're inflicting.

RICH:
Outstanding! Tonight we are

witnessing a veritable clinic

and that ludicrous hullabaloo

known as demolition derby.

Way to kill the franchise, Bakula.

Ladies and gentlemen,

we are down to our final two ships.

In the storied annals of demolition derby,

today will surely be remembered,

if only as the day

upon which I was absorbed

into that hideous conglomeration

once known as the Dixie Chicks.

Buckle your sphincters.

(ALL EXCLAIMING)

-No! No!

-No!

-That broad's insanes.

-But you're insansier, right?

Nah, I guess nots.

I've decideds to relax

and enjoy life from now ons.

(BOTH SCREAMING)

(ALL CHEERING)

Yes! We did it!

AndPlanet Express takes the trophy.

WOMAN:
(SINGING) Rocket ship.

(CRASHING)

(SNORING)

Now, I'll use the magnet

to get the keys back in there.

What? You mean I cut a big hole

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