Sync and correction by Mlmlte www.addic7ed.com
♪ ♪
Well, we're bankrupt in six, five...
...Four, three...
...Two, one.
And we're out of business.
Good news. We're back in business.
We've been hired to deliver an envelope.
It's crunch time. Let's do this.
It's for you, Professor.
Great delivery, everyone.
You're the finest crew I've had the honor to work with.
Oh, my.
We're being foreclosed upon.
You're all terrible and incompetent.
I resent that.
Wait, I found a loophole in the mortgage.
If we actually pay it, we can keep the building.
We just need...
$11 million.
And... boned.
Oh, I suppose there's nothing left to do but move out.
Leela, Amy, pack us a lunch for our new lives
under the bridge, while us men reminisce
and smoke some stogies.
We are not packing lunches,
you walking beer commercials.
It was you men who drove this company into the ground.
Remember Fry's idea to offer free delivery?
It got us a lot of customers.
We're a delivery company.
If you want to save this company,
you should listen to a woman's idea for once.
Okay. What do you got?
An airline.
Yeah! What?
We should become a commercial airline.
I mean, we've got a ship, and teleporters
won't be invented for another 15 years,
according to that guy from the future.
Wow. That's actually a really good idea,
- for a woman. - Fuff.
What else you ladies got?
Girls of planet express calendar.
Girlie calendar?
Great idea, Amy.
Okay, then. Leela, Amy,
come to work topless tomorrow.
Forget it. I promised myself
I wouldn't pose naked until I was married.
Sorry. It's in your contract.
"All female employees must pose nude if requested."
That's discriminatory.
No, it's in all our contracts.
Here's mine.
"All female employees
must pose nude if requested."
Sounds fair.
Totally on the up-and-up. Nice work, Hermes.
Now that's what I call fine print.
Okay, but good luck making a girlie calendar
with only two female employees.
Hmm...
Oh, husband.
I'm so excited about this new job.
And it's excited about you, Labarbara.
First order of business is to put on your uniform
and take your ID photo.
Look, I agree
it'd make spacewalking more comfortable.
But for a photo shoot, it's a little...
Unsavory.
Over.
Time is money, peaches.
Now shut your com-link and make love to the camera.
And remember, I'm the camera.
♪ ♪
Stop actually washing
and play with the sponges.
But the ship is dirty.
Eh, whatever.
I ran out of film an hour ago.
No, no, this won't do.
A three month calendar?
What is this, mercury?
I told you it wouldn't work.
Well, you should have talked louder.
Fortunately, I came up with a brilliant idea
to save Planet Express.
We'll turn it into a commercial airline.
But that was my idea.
Then you should have talked louder. What?
There. It was hard work, but it beats posing
in demeaning, skimpy modeling outfits.
Ladies, here are your demeaning, skimpy stewardess outfits.
Beep. Beep.
Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
Sorry, ma'am,
I'll have to confiscate your artificial kneecap.
Okay, here you go.
Ladies and gentlemen,
this is plane's president speaking.
We are cleared for takeoff.
You put goofus and ganja in charge?
I'm the only trained pilot here.
Oh, please, Leela.
Who ever heard of a plane with a woman president?
Welcome to plan am flight one to acapulsar.
The local time on acapulsar is five years from now.
In the event of a wormhole sending us back in time,
do not kill your parents.
If you are traveling with small children,
help them not to kill you
before not killing your own parents.
Now please turn off all electronic devices.
Uh, preparing for takeoff.
I'll kill you, my friend!
I hope you all enjoyed our tiny beverage service.
Now sit back and endure our in-flight entertainment.
Hiya, hiya, hiya.
So what's the deal with airline food, hmm?
They offer you two choices,
but they're always out of one.
By the way, we're out of both choices.
Shut up and put on four episodes of The Office.
Ooh, your hands are warm.
For a robot.
Thanks, baby. I don't know
what you're doing back here in the galley,
'cause you got a first class seat.
Captain, we were supposed to land two days ago.
Is everything... hey!
Are we at the fair yet, mommy?
We're not at the any place.
And we're out of fuel.
Attention, passengers.
Please remain seated until the plane comes to a complete crash.
Perhaps we should reconsider the girlie calendar.
Flight attendant's log:
We've crash near a river of mercury
on a lifeless mineral world.
Supplies are low, cannibalism imminent, radio busted.
Our one hope is to form a society.
Okay, then. Men, let's get hunting.
The womenfolk can cook what we catch.
No one put you in charge, husband.
I'm the only one here who ever ran a society.
Roller derby is not a society.
Well, let's put it to a vote, then.
All in favor of the jamocha thunderclap?
That would be me.
Practically no one.
All in favor of me?
Eight to eight. It's a tie.
We can't trust a woman's math.
Count again.
Greetings, soft ones.
Who among you is your leader?
- He is. - She is.
Curious.
You are a diarchic society?
Um... maybe.
Whatever we are, I'm the leader of it.
Leader? Fat man, you couldn't even run a bath.
Well, you sure can run something-- your mouth!
Silence.
Even a young pebble could see
your race is divided based on the configuration
of your 23rd chromosome.
What? You mean along gender lines?
Gender?
Yeahs. You knows guyses, galses,
in that order. Ows.
I am not familiar with this concept of gender.
My species has only a single gender, known as neuchacho.
Interesting. Come on, men. Let's kill him.
Your genders differ in many ways.
But, as with all things that are different,
chocolate and vanilla,
Mac and PC,
one is always clearly better.
Chocolate, Mac, men. The end.
Well, I've got nothing to do for the next eight million years.
Therefore, I will administer a series of tests
to determine the superior gender.
Who can drink the most sulfur?
Test inconclusive. Test number two:
Who can drink the most arsenic?
Just ask us some damn questions.
Very well. Which is larger,
an Italian size four or an American apparel medium?
How many calories are in a small green tea yogurt?
Name any 12 of the desperate housewives.
How was your day?
Test complete. What is the score?
Uh... men five, women less.
Hey. He's lying. Obviously.
That was a test to see who could lie better.
The men win that round.
In your face, decumbent urinators.
So far, I have learned nothing.
But that's probably as much my fault as yours.
The time has come for the final test.
We usually call it the lightning round.
As you may have noticed, it's getting hotter here.
It's nice.
Too hot.
Did one of you chicks change the thermostat?
Tomorrow morning, this planet makes
its closest pass to the sun.
You will all be boiled alive, like retired circus animals
unless you somehow can cross the great alkali plains
and reach shelter in the cave of harmony.
That sounds hard.
Whichever gender
reaches the cave will survive.
And may the inferior gender
burst into something.
Flames, I guess.
Uh-oh.
I think we're walking in circles.
I recognize the pattern of striations
on that gypsum formation.
Also my shoe that fell off.
Oh, God. We're all gonna die in agony.
Howdy there.
You fellas need some directions?
No, we're fine. Don't worry about it.
Keep it up, sistren.
Only a few more Miles to the cave.
Let's just buckle down and...
Oh, look!
A clearance sale!
What?! Where?
I believe that sale was just a mirage.
Now we're gonna die without so much
as a factory-second clutch purse to show for it.
It would have been nice
to shop at Tommy hilfiger one last time.
It wasn't Tommy hilfijigger.
It was linens 'n things!
The hell it was.
It was a juicy couture.
I guess we all saw what we wanted to see.
We can't make it tonight.
We'll set up camp here by this shoe.
Oh, gentlemen, when that sun rises
in the morning, we're toast.
These are our last moments together.
So if one's got any good fart jokes,
now would be the time.
It's a shmundred degrees,
and all we have to drink are non-diet sodas.
It's gonna ruin my figure.
It, I forgot
that amana here is a refrigerator.
If we could supercharge her freon with a gas compressor,
we might survive the heat and make to the cave.
Hey, yeah!
But the only gas compressor on this planet
is inside bender's ass.
Was that a fart joke?
Because I don't find those amusing.
No one does.
Nevertheless, bender's gas blaster
may be our only hope.
Wife?
What are you doing with bender's
shiny metal gas compressor?
None of your bizmarkie.
Wait a second.
What's that doo-wah in your ditty bag?
Uh, uh...
Okay, so we were hot.
I stole amana's freon coil
so we could hook it up to bender's ass and build a cooler.
You are no better than me,
you shifty tree skink.
How do you live with yourself?
Damn it, woman, you're making me highly selassie!
Oh, don't you talk to me that way,
you big, hairy Belafonte.
Oh, you're cookin me back bacon.
Thank you, woman.
That's not back-bacon!
That's your back bakin'!
Oh no! We overslept!
The Mercury river is boiling.
Can't breathe...
Lungs burning...
My lucky shoe!
Good-bye cruel me.
I learned that from a movie.
I find both genders supremely disappointing.
The real reason I administered this bizarre, outer space test
was to teach you to work together.
But you couldn't.
Thanks to you, I lost my bet with the borax kid.
Never bet against me being stupid. Enough.
Your gender differences have kept you from achieving harmony.
There is only one way to resolve this conflict.
Wait, why didn't that hurt?
My wingwang's gone!
My girls!
My antennae!
My kajigger!
My gonopores!
Look it up.
I have freed you from the tyranny of gender.
Now go in peace.
Or actually, stay here.
I'll go in peace.
Good news, neuchachos.
The ship is nearly repaired.
Work goes fasters withouts no secondary sex characteristicses
at which to hoot.
Now who wants to sings some Christopher cross songs?
Look, associates, I made a hammock from our clothing.
How industrious.
Do you mind if we sleep with you?
I have no opinion.
Well, good night.
Everyone got along so well today.
Yes, this place is like a neutered utopia.
A neutopia.
I enjoy humor where no one gets hurt.
Your companionship is inoffensive, Hermes.
Likewise.
Really, what are we missing out on by not having sex right now?
Well...
Give us back our genitals!
Is that you, borax kid?
I've got your 50 bucks.
Oh, it's you.
Why do you want your genders?
You seem happier without them.
Being human isn't just about being happy.
It's about loving, and fighting,
and that rasta mcnasty we were doing last night.
We want that back.
Very well.
Perhaps it is I who have learned a lesson--
or something.
Now what?
I have decided, after little thought, to return your genders.
Not cool, bro!
Our genders are all reversed.
Now I got a whatchacallit instead of a kajigger,
you stupid whatchacallit!
Okay, stop yelling at me.
It was an innocent mistake.
Allow me to rectify it.
I got your distress call and came as quickly as I wanted to.
No need to thank me.
What's your problem, homes?
Now we'll be stuck like this forever!
Chill out, dude.
Well, hello from the neck down.
Thank you for your patronage.
We know you have a choice in airlines,
and you made the wrong one.
No refunds.
Aren't we going to cuddle?
Woman, I'm tired.
I'm sorry.
It's just... I need my sleep.
I gotta get up five times a night to Xbox.
I understand.
Womanhood also takes some getting used to.
For example, did you know there are more than two feelings?
I only need one feeling-- love for you, wifey-man.
Ooh, your manwich!
No wonder it's such a mess in there.
These bad boys are hard to aim.
I hate being a man.
I smell bad, my face is scratchy,
and the food at those strip clubs is terrible.
Crappin' a.
Still, I'm sure the women are having an even harder time.
O.M.G.!
Being chicks is so much fun.
Now when I say stupid things, guys all laugh and buy me stuff.
Ugh. What a skank.
Anyway, planet express is still facing foreclosure.
There's no way we can raise enough money
to save this company.
Wait. What about the girlie calendar?
Well, that won't work, remember?
We only have three women on staff...
"All female employees must pose nude if requested."
And it is requested.
Let's just hope we can sell
enough of these calendars by tomorrow.
We sold enough of those calendars since yesterday!
Thank God most of our fans are huge perverts.
Who are you, stranger?
Well, madam, folks call me the borax kid.
My friend,
the other rock alien,
died without setting your genitals to right.
So I reckon it's up to me to sex you up proper.
Huh?
My girls are back!
Ow!
Yay!
So what did you like better, my love being a man or a woman?
I don't care what parts I have,
as long as they interlock with yours.
Ah, marriage.
It combines the contentedness of being neutered,
with the occasional sex of being not.
Well, I best mosey on down to the landing.
Sounds like the feldspar queen is about to set sail.
You folks watch your genitals now.
And that's that.
What I miss?
Sync and correction by Mlmlte www.addic7ed.com