♪ Two... two, three... ♪
♪ ♪
Sync and correction by Mlmlte www.addic7ed.com
After centuries as a delivery boy,
nothing surprises me.
You stink, loser.
Hey, Fry!
Pizza going out! Come on!
Aw, all right. I'll take the Red Rocket.
Hello! Pizza delivery for...
D. Frosted Wang?
Ugh, not another crank delivery!
Why don't I read these ahead of time?
One time was funny.
But every week for ten years? Not as funny.
True, not as funny. But still somewhat funny.
And-and then they burst out laughing
a second time.
I've been a delivery boy for a thousand years.
Isn't there any room for promotion around here?
There'll be no promotions unless somebody dies.
And even then, only if we can't
bring them back as a zombie, like Scruffy.
Life and death are a seamless continuum.
Mm-hmm.
Well, could I at least get some encouragement?
I could use a shot in the arm.
I get shot in the leg!
Roberto! What are you doing here?
What? A fella can't drop in on old friends
and hold them hostage?
I'm good. And you?
Attention, criminal robot in the building!
Come out with your hands up!
- Never! - Uh... other guy.
Listen up, piggies, I want a hovercopter,
and an unmarked sandwich,
and a new face with like a, a Hugh Grant look.
And every five minutes I don't get it,
someone's going to get stabbed in the ass!
He's bluffing. Ouch!
He's not bluffing!
You call for a chopper?
Nah, I specifically said hovercopter!
One chopper, coming up.
Hi-yah! Ah!
All right! Way to go.
You know, URL,
sometimes it's almost too much for me.
You mean the respect we get?
And the high level of job satisfaction?
There's that, but I'm also talking about
the non-stop promotions and the free hot rod.
Mm. I do love a man in uniform.
Ahem!
I mean a uniform that doesn't involve short pants.
I can see I have no future here.
My only option is to resign with dignity.
Here are my shorts.
♪ ♪
Hello. I'd like to enroll in Police Academy.
You think you can just waltz in here
with no pants and become a cop?
That's the plan. I like you, kid.
I got no pants on, either.
I can see that. You're quite a bit taller than me.
Welcome to Police Academy.
Hi, I'm Fry.
I'm a Sound Effects 5000.
Weep, wop, beep!
Wow. That would be impressive if you were a human.
Yeah.
On your feet for Chief O'Manahan.
At ease, cadets.
I'll make this short and sweet,
'cause I'm PMSing like a lumberjack.
Police Academy is not for everybody.
You're gonna get your boob scuffed.
But if you've got the vulva to stick it out,
I'll be proud to call you ladies policemen.
Sir! Yes, ma'am!
Yeah. That's great.
Now, can you actually turn on the ignition?
I don't have any hands.
Well, it's that time of the month.
Graduation day.
So grow a pair and put them together for our new officers!
Good job!
Hooray for the pigs!
Graduates, you are hereby officially cops.
Now move it along, nothing to see here.
Hooray! Free sky sticks!
Oh!
Police brutality!
Nice... All right.
Before we head out, I'll be teaming up our new officers
with their ironically matched partners.
Sound Effects 5000,
you'll be with Cranski.
Ow, my tinnitus!
Fry, due to the unfortunate loss of Officer Smith,
you'll be riding with URL.
And Smitty was just a few days from retirement.
Wh-What happened?
He took a early retirement. Damn.
Let's get down to business.
Aren't you going to say, "Good news, everyone"?
Oh, I just said that for Fry's benefit.
Made the poor fellow feel better about his pointless job.
As much as I miss him,
he didn't really serve much purpose around here.
Though he did walk Zoidberg.
In any case, I've improved on Fry
by sticking some wheels on a board, so Leela and Bender
can easily make the next delivery without him.
Me? So where we going?
Pandora.
That dangerous 3D planet?
Can't we just send our avatars?
No, it's cheaper just to have you die.
Whoa. 15 miles over the speed of light.
That's a violation of the law of Lorentz's invariants, baby.
Light 'em up.
Look out for that particular individual!
An electric wall, eh?
I can't see the harm in peeing on that.
Whoa! Where'd my man learn that?
Sunny D commercial.
Let's refract this sucker.
DNA and career chip, please.
Erwin Schrodinger, huh?
What's in the box, Schrodinger?
Um... a cat, some poison, and a cesium atom.
is it alive or dead?
Alive or dead?
Answer him, fool.
It's a superposition of both states
until you open it and collapse the wave function.
Says you.
There's also a lot of drugs in there.
So... you're a robot?
You boys did good.
Nailed a major violator of the laws of physics.
He's going down.
Cat's gonna testify.
Guys like this really bust my uterus.
You're both getting a promotion.
Ever heard of the Future Crimes Division?
Tomorrow, I have.
Oops.
I can't make out a thing.
Well, I guess you should have had two eyes.
Just deliver the package, and let's get out of here.
Screw that! I ain't no delivery boy.
I'm the company chef.
Oh, you're the chef, are you?
Then why don't you make us something nice to eat?
Here's your damn peanut butter and jelly sandwich!
Now that we can predict crimes with 99% accuracy,
we can arrest most perpetrators
before they even perpetrate anything.
That's ridiculous.
Only horoscopes can predict the future.
That's what we used to think.
Until we invented... this.
Ooh.
Slow down, baby.
The Cybernetic Oracle.
The ultimate man-machine hybrid.
Programmed with every crime ever recorded,
and implanted with the brain cells
of history's greatest detectives.
We call him... Pickles.
On account of it's like he's floating in a jar?
Exactly.
The Oracle's visions are recorded on these colored balls.
Green is larceny. Black is fraud.
homicide.
What's pink polka-dots? Clown slaughter.
It happens more often than you'd think.
Floater in the bowl!
Red ball. Homicide!
Whoo!
male, six foot one.
Distinctive mustard stain on his forehead.
My kajigger!
Hattie McDoogal.
Look, the clock says 5:08.
It's 4:30 right now.
Uh-oh, we only have a half hour to chill out
before we head over.
Oh, Hattie.
When I look into your one good eye,
I see a reflection of beauty.
Oh! Fresh.
Freeze, fool.
You're under arrest for future murder!
Yeah? You can't arrest me for future murder...
after it's right now murder!
My kajigger!
So he didn't really want to marry me?
Nah. See, he knew you left everything
to your parakeets in your will.
He was going to murder you, marry your parakeets,
and then poison them with an arsenic-laced cuttlebone.
Classic move.
Aw, yeah.
Congratulations on your big bust.
You, too.
Keep it up, and you boys might just make detective.
Now, if you'll excuse me,
I got to go drop a big one.
Wow. I can't believe it.
One more promotion, and I'll be a real detective,
like Sherlock Holmes or Speed Buggy.
Eight pounds.
I'm naming her Burt.
Mazel tov, Chief.
That's a beautiful bathroom baby.
Hey, you heading home, Phil?
In a minute.
I just want to finish this paperless work.
Don't stay up too late.
We got a lot of people to shoot tomorrow.
Hello! Anyone?
There's never a cop around when you need one.
Green ball. Larceny.
Hmm.
The thief seems to be some sort of ghost.
Or is he?
Aah! Bender?
Our corporate tax rate
remained unchanged this fiscal year.
That's not funny.
It's not supposed to be funny.
It's a business meeting.
Things used to be funny around here.
Noses were picked, pants fell down.
So what changed?
Only Fry could say, and he's gone.
Hey.
Bender and Leela are back from Pandora.
How was it?
Awful.
We had nothing to say to each other,
so we had to listen to Bender's Eagles album for 27 hours.
Beats talking to you, witchy woman.
Hey, he's back!
Look at you. Hubba hubba.
Your pants go almost all the way to your ankles.
Good afternoon, individuals.
Sir, would you mind stepping out of the building?
Normally, when a cop asks me that,
I spray whip cream in his eyes and run away,
but to ditch these losers, gladly.
Bender, be honest with me.
Are you planning a big heist?
Usually, but not at the moment.
I only ask 'cause the Oracle thinks
you're going to pull off a major theft next Thursday.
Next Thursday, you say?
Pray, continue.
Are you familiar with this particular location?
I may have a burgling familiarity with it.
Does the word "Maltese" mean anything to you?
The Maltese Liquor-- the strongest,
the most valuable malt liquor ever brewed!
And soon it will be mine.
I'm sorry. You were saying?
Bender, I'm only telling you this
so you can avoid committing the crime.
"Avoid committing the crime." Got it.
You wrote "commit the crime"!
Oh, there's got to be some way to stop Bender.
Maybe something in the Oracle's predictions
that I missed before due to incompetence.
Wait. Who's the trigger-happy jerk?
That's me!
I recognize the face.
You shot me!
You miserable dingus!
No! No! What have I will have done?
Man, that's heavy. Osmium heavy.
Wha...? Are you going to turn me in for concealing evidence?
Say what?
You're my partner, home Fry.
Besides, I got my own secrets.
Anything big worth checking out?
Just your big jangly booty, baby.
See you tonight, toots.
You... and the chief?
Mm-hmm. We been gettin' it on.
Right there in your chair.
I'm like, "Oh, baby! Oh, baby!"
And she's like, "Yeah. Yeah. Yeah."
I would never shoot Bender. Never!
He taught me how to shave.
Revision ball.
By deciding not to shoot Bender,
you created an alternate future.
I could never shoot you. Never!
You taught me how to shave.
See?
Just get out of here.
Go!
Now, dig the unintended consequences.
My friends, let us share this booze
in a toast to our dear friend, Bender.
Oops.
The Maltese Liquor done destroyed their brains.
Fools should have known it's fatal
for anyone but robots and Billy Dee Williams.
So, if I don't shoot Bender, all my other friends will die?
Fate is a freaky mistress.
Much like the chief.
Look out!
Something's not right.
I refuse to believe it.
Rewind.
Ooh.
Are you the calloused working man I ordered?
Uh, sure.
In order to fix your leaky roof,
I'll need to spend two or three hours
down here in the wine cellar.
I'll be upstairs putting batteries in things.
Whoa!
The Maltese Liquor.
40 ounces of heaven!
Here, boy.
This is for you.
Ah.
Hmm.
Invisible safe, eh?
Aah!
Ah, yeah, baby!
210 proof.
That's all the proof I need.
Put the bottle back.
We both know I won't do that.
Either you're going to shoot me,
or I'm going to spray whip cream in your eyes
and walk out of here like a big shot.
Bender, no! You don't have to do something
just 'cause it's going to happen.
The future's making a chump out of you.
Oh, yeah? Well, I'm going to make a chump out of the future.
I'm not stealing anything!
Yes! I stopped the crime without shooting you.
The Oracle was wrong.
Was I?
Pickles? Yes.
It is I, Pickles.
I set the whole thing up.
Everyone will think Bender's the thief
while I make off with that glorious brew.
Seriously? Why?
So I can kill my human brain cells.
Do you have any idea what a burden it is
to know everything that will ever happen?
To never be surprised.
To know the punch line of every joke hours in advance.
Like watching Leno.
And that is why I faked
the prediction of this crime.
Nevertheless-- stay with me here--
things will now happen just as I fake predicted.
Bender, you're going to hand me that bottle.
Not that one!
The real one, which you switched
when Fry stupidly looked away.
Hey.
Ah, man.
Why you got to be so Oracle-y?
Fry, you are going to shoot Bender,
killing him and shattering the fake bottle,
just as I predicted.
Do it!
It is your destiny!
Funny thing about destiny.
Sometimes fate has other plans.
Oh, nuts.
You shot me!
You miserable dingus!
And now the part I didn't show you.
Everyone will think Bender killed you,
and I walk away with the goofy juice!
Finally, blissful ignorance.
I have no idea what's going to happen next.
Did you get that, Chief? Huh?
We got it all from behind this prediction-proof glass.
But how could you know my prediction was fake?
I knew something was wrong,
but I couldn't put my finger on it.
Then it hit me.
You showed Bender
sharing the deadly booze with our friends.
Bender would never share.
The very idea!
So we set up this little charade
based on an episode of Speed Buggy.
With the added benefit of me and the chief
being locked in a small room.
Shall we adjourn to the dungeon?
Well, I got my shield for stopping Bender.
But then I got fired for tipping off Bender.
Fry, we have no idea what you do around here,
but we desperately need you back.
Really? Um, I don't suppose there's any chance
I could get a promotion.
Sure. What the heck?
I hear by promotion, executive delivery boy.
Executive?
It's a meaning less title.
But it helps insecure people feel better about themselves.
I feel better about myself!