Welcome back to the clippie awards,
honoring the year's most accomplished delivery boys.
Our next category is best newcomer on a bicycle.
Good luck, Dwight. (Rings bell)
And the nominees are Johnny Jensen from rent-a-cat,
nezzbin zalgabarg, ten-minute underwear, and Dwight Conrad, speedy wig.
And the clippie goes to...
Little Johnny Jensen!
Don't feel bad, son.
We couldn't be more proud of you.
Unless, of course, you had won the award.
Man, you're so lucky to have your family here.
The stupid professor didn't even show up for me.
I 'd just like to thank my awesome parents.
We love you, Johnny!
Shh!
Now, to get all serious.
It's time to pay tribute to the brave delivery boys
who gave their lives this past year in the line of duty.
Gene tinker, bus.
Charles Kiley, train.
Mike pisarik, lion.
They're on the truck to heaven now.
Up next, the award for best delivery boy,
newspaper, phone book, or miscellaneous.
Miscellaneous, that's me.
The nominees are
gene tinker, Charles Kiley, Mike pisarik, and Philip j. Fry.
And the clippie goes to...
(Straining)
Philip j. Fry!
(Audience applauds)
Sign here.
Wow! I'd like to thank the academy of delivery sciences,
my lovely robot, bender,
and most of all, my dear nephew, professor Farnsworth.
He always has time for me, whether it's sending me on a delivery,
or just pulling me aside to tell me I'm doing a bad job.
And why? Because he's family, and family is always there for each other.
I'm sorry, but I can't keep reading this tissue of lies.
The truth is, professor Farnsworth is a cold, heartless jerk!
And the fish sticks were limp!
Ooh. Hefty.
You could really bash in a skull with this thing.
I know, right?
(Clearing throat)
What? Your awards show. I'm sorry I couldn't make it,
but I had a very good reason.
Perhaps you'd favor us with it?
My pleasure. You see, I came down
with a searing case of "who-gives-a-crap?"
(Laughing)
(Growling)
I wish I had more living relatives.
What about the professor's parents?
They're still alive?
Sure, they exhibit all the telltale signs.
Toenails growing, hearts pumping fluid, the whole shmagoigle.
So where do these fossils live? In sedimentary rock?
(Laughing)
No. According to his next of kin file,
they live in a virtual retirement home on the near-death star.
I've been there. Let's boldly go where we've gone before.
Halt! Visitors are forbidden.
Oh, really? Does that rule apply to clippie winners?
I'm sorry, sir. Go right in.
That's Philip j. Fry!
Ned and velma Farnsworth. 423, shadybrook Lane. Let's hover-roll.
Fry, you're so confident and take-charge on this trip.
It's kind of a turn-on.
Not now, Leela. I'm trying to meet old people.
(2001: A space odyssey theme song playing)
(Door bell chimes)
My god! It's full of geezers.
Fry: Hey, why are they hooked up like that?
Is it some kind of craft-matic adjustable death bed?
(Laughs mockingly) Don't be ridiculous.
Their bodies are being used to generate electricity.
The idea came from an old movie called the matrix.
But wouldn't almost anything make a better battery than a human body?
Like a potato? Or a battery?
Plus, no matter how much energy they produced,
it would take more energy than that to keep them alive.
I know, I know. It sounds absurd.
In fact, when the matrix first came out,
it seemed like the single crummiest,
laziest, most awful, dimwitted idea
in the entire history of science fiction, but it turned out to be true.
Who knew?
Good work, writer of the matrix.
Fry: This is it, room 1119.
Aw! It's my relatives.
I'm gonna call them gram-gram and shabba-doo.
They look just like you, fry. Arms, legs, ugly.
Too bad we can't visit them in their virtual world.
We can. Just moisten your heads
and put on these real-to-virtual adapter caps.
Hmm, electricity plus hats with wires on them.
Are you sure this is safe?
It's not just safe, it's 40% safe.
(Screaming)
Bender is falling!
Whoa!
Told you it was safe.
So this is my relatives' virtual old-folks home?
There's only one word for it. Terrible. And also horrible.
This is their room. They're gonna be so excited to meet me.
Hi. I'm your distant relative.
Forget it, you flimflammer. I can smell a scam a mile away.
Reverse mortgages. Get your reverse mortgages here.
Come in, come in.
So you're really my grandson, huh?
Well, it's not quite that simple.
See, I got frozen, and your son,
professor Farnsworth, is my great-great-great-great-great-great...
Eh? What?
Yep, I'm your grandson all right.
A grandson? My, you're a big boy.
What are you, a junior in high school?
Most recently, yes.
Oh, you look so thin.
Can I offer you some virtual ham casserole?
Sounds delicious.
Mmm.
Oh, nobody's eaten my food like that in ages.
I don't cook much since we moved out of reality.
(Snoring)
And that's how I got this scar above my eye.
And this fork inside my lung.
That's a doozy. Hey, look at this. I can pull my thumb off.
Stop, shabba-doo, you're freaking me out.
Don't let him getyournose.
(All laughing)
Oh, lord.
It's so nice to have more family. All I had was the professor,
and he's kind of crotchety and moldy.
You should have seen him when he was little.
My golly, he was crotchety and moldy.
We miss him terribly, but it sure has
been nice spending time with you.
It gets lonely and depressing around here,
with no entertainment exceptthe
(shouts) Rigged bingo!
Man: (Through wall) Prove it, loser!
Well, we should get going. It was great to meet you, though,
and hear about how bursitis transcends physical existence.
Keep up with your studies, huh?
What? Oh, god, I'm still here?
I'll miss you guys!
I don't think gram-gram likes that place. And I know shabba-don't.
I sure wish they could come with us.
(Alarm blaring)
Elder abuse! Elder abuse! Elder abuse! Elder abuse!
Go it! Fastly!
(Engine cranking)
It won't start. The batteries are dead.
Oh, I'm about to lose history's greatest life
all because of some useless old people.
They're not useless. They can cook ham casserole,
and watch TV at incredible volume, and they generate electricity.
(Gasps) That's it!
(Engine starts)
We can cut them off. Turn left at Miriam feinberg.
I meant feingold!
It's so nice to meet the professor's parents.
I'm Dr. Zoidberg. I'm very important.
Hey, zoidberg, you forgot to empty this trash can.
Don't hit me!
I bet the professor will be thrilled to see you again.
Oh, professor. Some special old people are here for you.
Are they my zombies from hammacher schlemmer?
(Gasps)
Mama? Daddy?
Hey, mddo!
Leave me alone! I never want to see you again!
What crawled up his geritol?
Well, to be honest,
a few troubling things did happen in our past.
Lady, all of human history happened in your past!
(Laughs)
Ah, let's not let those dark days ruin our visit.
Philip, what do you say we go out today and live it up?
"Live it up"? I'll be surprised if you live it out!
(Laughs) Whoo! You're on fire!
(Laughing)
Whoa! Looks like you guys had fun.
Did we ever! Gram-gram fell down at the
ice cream store and we got free ice cream!
Now let's all go take a nap!
(Whooping)
Professor, Amy and I are concerned that... oh!
(Sobbing)
Aw, what's wrong?
I just want my parents to love me. God, how I hate them!
Of course they love you!
Not like they love fry! They never played with me like that.
They were always "too tired." Oh, what awful parents!
Come closer. I'll tell you the whole story.
Tell you what. Let's get an opaque bubble layer going.
Okay, go.
It all started a century and a half ago.
I had a perfectly normal adolescence in new New York.
But my parents were simple hedge fund managers
who couldn't appreciate my interest in science.
Mom, dad, look what I made!
(Yawning) That's wonderful, dear.
Here you go, squeakers.
I was accepted to mit at the age of 14,
but my parents crushed my dreams like a discarded frog head.
Honey, I'm afraid we can't let you go.
You're just not emotionally mature enough for college yet.
(Imitating) "Not mature enough..."
(Shrieks)
(Blubbering)
Worried that city life was filling my head
with an unhealthy respect for education,
my parents moved us to a peaceful farm.
(Wailing)
I think that's sweet.
Oh, shut up!
You're all I have left, squeakers.
(Bird squawks)
(Wailing)
Oh, god, I hated that place. My parents kept me there for years.
So when I finally ran away, I vowed never to speak to them again!
That's a really sad and long story, professor.
But you'll never get over this unless you go to your parents now
and tell them honestly how you feel.
(Sniffling) You're right. I will.
Oh, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!
You ruined my life! Goodbye!
(Wailing)
That is one crazy, uncircumcised old man.
(Door opens)
I almost headed off the professor at the east river,
but the wind caught his skin flaps
and sent him parasailing over the queensboro bridge.
Why would he go to queens? He doesn't need tires.
Our old farm was in queens.
He must've gone back there to defile it with his nudity!
Come on, hurry!
(Groaning)
Why are you so eager to find the professor, fry?
Aren't you mad at him?
Of course I'm mad. That's been established.
I just want to find him for gram-gram and shabba-doo's sake.
Who?
Faster, faster! Okay, stop short!
(Grunts)
There's the old place.
Hasn't changed a bit.
Put on your glasses, sweetie.
(Farnsworth blubbering)
(Gasps) I hear something.
(Crying)
It's the professor.
Yes, everyone look at the freak.
His parents didn't love him, so they kept him here,
100 miles from the nearest microscope! (Sniffles)
Why? Why?
(Sighs)
He deserves the truth, velma. I think he's old enough to handle it.
Cupcake, we never told you this, but you had an older brother.
(Exclaims in surprise)
Gram-gram: In many ways, he was like you.
He loved science and was desperate to go to college.
He even looked a little like you.
But the sad fact was...
Oh, how can I put this delicately?
He was a crazy-ass nut job!
Thank you, ned. But so what?
He was our crazy-ass nut job, and we loved him.
(Shrieking)
Gram-g ram: Every night, the poor boy had terrors in his sleep.
His pajamas would be soaked with sweat.
Yeah, sweat. Right.
Gram-gram: We'd stay at his bedside all night.
And whenever he'd start moaning and sweating his pants,
we'd read to him from his favorite book.
Eighty-one, thallium. Eighty-two, lead. Eighty-three, bismuth.
Shabba-doo: The poor little psycho never could've survived on his own.
So we kept him on the farm as long as we could.
Gram-gram: (Sniffles) But one night, he ran away,
taking nothing but the clothes on his back.
(Whooping)
Whoa!
Gram-gram: He was admitted to a prestigious institution.
A mental institution!
Shabba-doo: Got himself a full wackademic scholarship. And we never saw him again.
We couldn't let you end up like your older brother.
That's why we kept you on the farm,
and helped you get your online doctorate in rodeo studies.
(Stuttering) Rodeo studies?
We did it out of love for you, Floyd.
Floyd? Who the hell's Floyd? I'm Hubert!
You're Hubert? The older brother?
(Gasping)
But we thought you were still in an institution!
Oh, no, no. I was out within 25 years.
It felt like a minute compared to grad school.
Oh, hubie, we're so happy to see you again.
Wait. Was all that true? Did you really sit up with me every night?
You bet, sport.
That's why we were always too tired to play with you.
I'm so sorry we never got the chance.
Oh, mama! Daddy!
(Sobbing)
Ahem!
Ah, this may not be the best time, but a couple years ago,
a homeless rodeo clown named Floyd
came to the door claiming he was...
Bendefl why do you always have to be the center of attention?
You're sure you want to go back to the near-death star?
My, yes. Our muscles are sore, our bones ache.
My damn skin even hurts.
It's no dream house, but we get fed through
our spines and the rent is reasonable.
Don't worry. I'll come back and visit sometime.
How about December, when they inject the holidays into our brains?
That sounds nice, gram-gram.
Well, son, I guess this is goodbye again.
Not quite yet.
I took the Liberty of reprogramming your retirement simulation.
Why don't I come in for a moment and show you around?
Good virtual god! It's our old farm.
It's beautiful.
Appearances. Just a simple matter of appearances.
Speaking of which...
(Both gasping)
My boy! My beautiful boy!
One last chance to play, if you're not too tired.
Not too tired to chase you, you cute little nutjob!
Come on, velma.
Someone needs tickles!
I'm gonna get you! Here I come!
I almost got you! Come here, you.
(Squeaking)