Futurama: Bender's Big Score Page #3

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Of course I realize it.

Does that mean I can't enjoy it?

Boy, were we suckers.

Greetings, earthlings.

Oh, hooray.

It's handsome Lars and his fabulous jars.

Hello, everyone who isn't Leela.

And a special hello to everyone else.

Shut your lockers and get to class.

- How's my body doing?

- Oh, I'm afraid it's behind schedule.

The museum got tricked

into giving all its funding

to something called

the Scamming Sciences Institute.

It's a fake place.

Cut to the chase, baldy.

When do I get my me back?

Well, it could be months, or even years.

No! That body's

the cornerstone of my marriage.

What's LaBarbara going to do?

She's going to go back

to her first husband.

Barbados Slim? I love that guy.

Everybody loves Slim.

He's the only man to ever win

Olympic gold medals

in both limbo and sex.

Well, maybe I should get going.

- Yes, I'll show you out.

- No, Leela will show him out.

No, Leela will show you out.

Me. Leela.

So your friend, Fry, seems nice.

- Are you and he dating?

- Nope.

Good, because I was maybe thinking

of asking you out for dinner.

I'll start maybe thinking about saying,

''Sure, when?''

Let me maybe give it some thought.

- Tomorrow at 8:
00?

- Okay.

It's no fair. I've loved Leela

since the day I came to the future.

Did I show you the macaroni valentine

I made for her?

Yes.

Look at it again.

I know she thinks I'm immature,

but someday I won't be.

And deep down in my heart,

I know we'll end up together.

It's all there in the macaroni.

Lars asked me out.

- What are you doing, wonderful masters?

- Sprunjing for information.

Oh! There's something here.

I can sprunje it.

Robot, tear it open!

Goody, goody, goody, goody!

- What's that thing on your neck?

- Checking out my sprunjer, huh?

I guess. What does it do?

It's a special sense organ

our species possesses.

It engorges in the presence of...

Information.

Lucky you.

All I have is a gland

that gives off foul odors when I'm bored.

Hey, look, a safe!

That's my safe. I call keep-offsies.

No callsies! Open it!

It's a gold mine.

Tax forms, Social Security cards.

Combination hair, blood

and stool samples.

I don't get it. How can you say Lars

is more mature than me?

Well, for one thing,

his checkbook doesn't have the Hulk on it.

- Who are you?

- Philip J. Fry.

Social Security Number 03280810?

Stool type, P-negative?

That's right.

I've never detected

so much information before.

I think it may be a Level 87 code.

Level 87? Can it be?

I thought it was only a legend,

but the sprunjer never lies.

- It's in his pants!

- What the hell are you talking about?

Faster, faster!

I'm science-ing as fast as I can.

What do you say, folks? Hot or not?

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