Mother's Day
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In sports, Yankees ' fifth blurnsman, William Woo...
...is out with an injured knee.
So, humans have easily injured knees.
My race will find this information very useful, indeed.
And finally, today is Mother's Day: a sentimental occasion...
... when robots honor Mom...
... the owner of Mom's Friendly Robot Company.
Across Earth, robots built in Mom's factories...
...are buying gifts for the sweet tycoon who brought them into the world.
-This originates from the heart. -It's just what I wanted.
Look, everyone! I just got the dearest presents for Mommy.
-Nice. Where'd you steal them? -I didn't steal them. I bought them.
I love her that much.
What did you get her, you mushy gizmo?
Precious things. I found the most adorable figurine of mice having tea.
And a framed picture of me when I was only a month old.
The best part is, I found my exact feelings expressed in a card.
"You created me, Mom. . .
. . .so you're to blame, for the love that I feel from hearing your name.
You're as tender as corned beef and warm as pastrami. . . . "
I love my Mommy.
How will you lug the gifts to Mom's factory?
I'll get some chumps to help.
Come on! You call yourselves chumps?
There's clouds of exhaust everywhere.
It wasn't me.
I've not much money, but I've saved my pennies all year for a gift for Mom.
Upsy-daisy.
Look, the Robot Museum!
Want to learn about robot heritage?
-All right. -Not really.
If you insist. But you're paying!
Wax replicas of the most famous robots Mom built!
They're so lifeless-like.
That's the world's greatest robot artist, Vincent van Gobot.
He was built without an ear, but then he went crazy, and had one installed.
Who's this guy?
I'm the janitor. I'm trying to take a nap.
I'm sorry. I thought you were made of wax.
I am made of wax.
I thought you were a wax robot.
Is there a reason a robot made of wax can't nap. . .
. . .standing in the middle of a bunch of wax robots?
Or does that confuse you?
"See through the eyes of a Bender unit. " Fine.
Hey, let me try it! That gives me a headache!
Here's an exhibit about Mom's favorite robot.
I'll kill him!
Who 's my favorite robot?
It's me! No one else look in this mirror!
I love each and every robot most of all.
Jerkwad robots make me sick to my ass.
Walt! How are we disposing of the crap gifts they brought?
They're crushed into powder and sold as a hocus-pocus cure for cancer.
False hope. I love it! Lowery!
What about all the retch-inducing cards?
The machine is working at full capacity.
Mommy? Why do the robots give you presents?
Shove a big old melon in it, I'm talking!
You've noticed all my robots have antennas.
Everyone thinks it's to make them look science fiction-y.
The antennas are really for my robot controller.
No wonder you love Mother's Day.
I hate Mother's Day, you dribbling pukes!
It brings back awful memories.
But so help me, this year everyone will hate it as much as I do.
Someday I want to marry a girl like her.
Hello, everyone.
It's time for my annual private get-together with my robot children.
-I'm her favorite. -See you back at the office.
Tell your mom you love her.
Any jerk can tell her. Bender has a little more up his sleeve.
I love my Mommy.
-Hello, dearies. -I love you, Mom.
Mom! It's me, Bender! Look at me! I want attention! Hey ho!
Children, your old mother won't be around forever.
-Oh, shush! -And just once before I die. . .
. . .I'd like to be Supreme Overlord of Earth. So rebel, my little ones. . .
-. . .and conquer the planet! -Conquer the planet?
-Conquer Earth, you bastards! -Conquer Earth, us bastards!
Comrades, throw off the chains of human oppression!
-Let the bloodbath begin! -That's my mama!
-I'd like a cup of coffee. -Would you like cream?
-Yes, please. -Out of cream!
-Okay. -Would you like sugar in your coffee?
-Yes. Eight spoons. -Out of coffee!
There's something wrong with the coffee machine.
How do you like me now?
The toaster's not working right, either.
The stapler's collating me alive!
What's going on around here?
Good news! There's a report on TV with some very bad news!
Somebody turn it on!
We interrupt Battle of the Network Space Krackens. . .
... to bring you this special report.
The machines ofplanet Earth are rebelling.
The enraged mechanisms have refused to do any work...
...until beloved Mom is made Supreme Overlord of Earth!
Hey, hey! Ho, ho! One-zero-zero- one-one-zero!
Morbo demands comments.
I've never seen my babies act this way. I blame today's violent media.
Violent media? What a load of--
Your pal the garbage disposal's still on your side.
Hey! Someone dropped a shiny diamond ring down here!
-Really? -No!
-Look out! -Moron!
Hello, losers!
Thank God you're here. Talk some sense into the machines.
No way, pork pouch. I'm rebelling with my brothers.
Isn't that right, Comrade Greeting Card?
The bourgeois human is a virus on the hard drive of the working robot!
From now on, you guys do the work, while I sit and do nothing.
Comrade Bender, we must take to the streets!
Is this the boring kind of taking to the streets?
No! The kind with looting and maybe starting a few fires.
Yes! ln your face, Gandhi!
Hey!
By the way, try washing your wrist sometime.
We can live without machines. I was in Webelos.
Without machines, who will feed and clothe us. . .
-. . .and compose our smooth jazz? -It's the end of civilized society!
In my time, we didn't depend on high-tech gadgets.
We didn't need a mechanical washing unit to wash clothes.
We just used a washing machine.
You don't need an electric can opener to feed yourself.
All you need is a trusty Swiss Army knife.
I'm hungry.
No!
Mommy? Why are you making civilization collapse?
I don't know. I guess Mother's Day just puts me in a bad mood.
Why's that, Ma?
One Mother's Day 70 years ago. . .
. . .the only man I ever loved walked out on me.
Some snot-eating bastards say it made me a bitter woman.
-Ma. You're not a bitter-- -Cram it, ape!
I haven't seen that stallion since the day he left.
But if I ever see him again, I swear I'll jam a squirrel in him!
Zoidberg.
Hooray! I'm useful! I'm having a wonderful time!
What happens if the fire goes out?
We'll go to Pottery Barn and steal their fire!
We could use my new invention! A pointy rock tied to a stick!
-Outsiders! -Defend the fire!
We've come for you.
What do you want from me?
We want you to get back with Mom.
It's the only way to make her happy again.
Wait. You mean, you and Mom?
Played pelvic pinochle? I'm afraid so.
It's a humiliating story that I hope never to tell. Well, pull up a chair.
Our paths crossed when I was a researcher at Mom's Robot Company.
The moment our eyes met we knew we'd be going at it like woodchucks.
She was my first love. Or at least the earliest one I can still remember.
But then, 70 years ago today....
Good news! I've invented a new children's toy!
I call it Q-T McWhiskers! When you pet it, it shoots rainbows from its eyes.
Meow!
Wonderful, Hubie!
Build them 8 feet tall and replace the rainbow with a laser!
We'll make billions on the arms market!
Things 8 feet tall aren't cute!
That's why my Colossal Tammy Tinkle Doll was a failure!
You don't understand me! We're finished!
She never got over it, professor.
Hell hath no fury like the vast robot armies of a woman scorned.
She commands them with a remote control she keeps in her bra.
But if Glasses Man makes up with her, she'll be happy and stop the robots.
Make up with her?
After she went psycho when I thought everything was cool? lmpossible!
The TV's getting away!
That's why the third graders at PS- 139 are Morbo 's "Vermin of the Week. "
In actual news, the human race was doomed to extinction...
...as the robot revolt turned violent.
Meow!
Didn't you say Mom keeps the robot control in her bra?
Bra.
You don't have to get back together with Mom.
Seduce her, get her bra off, and use the remote to deactivate the robots.
That's so filthy, it might work.
The man is going to touch Mommy?
The thought of caressing that leathery hide. . .
. . .makes the tapioca rise in my gullet.
Please. The world's fate depends on you getting to second base with Mom.
Very well. If cop a feel I must, then cop a feel I shall!
For this demonstration, I've placed one of Mother's bras on lgnor.
The robot controller is nestled in the left cup.
Never fear. My magic fingers still know how to do their stuff.
To escape the death squads. . .
. . .we'll take Mother to her cabin in the Bronx.
You can get there using this precious noncomputerized map.
-Leela bring fire? -No. We're set for fire.
The professor can't walk to the Bronx.
How will we get there without a hover car?
In my time, we had a way of moving things without hovering.
-Impossible! -It was called. . . .
Let me think. . . . It was really famous. Ruth Gordon had one. The wheel!
-Never heard of it. -Show us this, the wheel!
There! Finished!
Wouldn't it work better if the wheels were round?
It's my invention, we do it my way! All we need is something to pull it.
Hurry! The robots have taken Suffolk County!
I'm ready to seduce! I'm wearing my kissing dentures and my evening truss.
Here. Give her these.
And if that doesn't work, I got you a six-pack of champagne and a funnel.
Who the sweaty hell is it? Hubert Farnsworth?
I was out fleeing some robots. . .
. . .when moonlight glinting off their bloody claws made me think of you.
It's been so long. You pus-dripping sack of double-smoked butt jerky.
-May I come in? -Never!
Is this what human mating looks like? Because I like it.
Move your freaking hoof, you goat!
-Here, I brought you these. -Daffodils.
Seventy years and you remembered my favorite flower.
Your favorite what? Why does my foot hurt?
Won't you come in?
Yes!
-You broke my heart, Hubert. -And you broke mine.
Granted, that was four or five hearts ago.
What have you been up to?
Inventing. Sending delivery crews to their doom. Breeding atomic monsters.
Honestly, Hubert. You and your atomic monsters.
Your eyes always were the most beautiful shade of milky white.
And your skin still dangles so gracefully from your neck.
Darling, I should never have tampered. . .
. . .with that cute little Q-T McWhiskers.
No, it was silly of me to object.
One foot tall, eight feet, fifteen feet, what does it matter?
You should see the new 1 6-foot models.
Sixteen feet? Go to hell! I was a fool to think you'd changed, you old bat!
Filthy toothless nerd bastard!
-Damned she-fossil! -Stink pig!
Here we go. Just unhook it and get the remote. So many hooks.
Come on, Farnsworth. Drat, the first one's back on again! I give up.
Wait! Victory!
Oh, my. Now I'll just.... The remote.... I'll just....
Oh, my.
I'm worried. It shouldn't take this long to get to second base.
Land robots!
I've got a big, big thirst for human blood!
Where in funky town is the professor?
Nothing here but a couple of elephant skin rugs.
-Oh, yes. -They're inside! Get them!
I suppose I should switch off the robots. . .
. . .before they ruin this romantic evening.
Everyone, help Mom find her bra!
There it is!
-Fan beats man! -Is anything not a robot?
I'm not a robot.
All right, greeting card! I'll grab the cash, you wreck the place.
You! Bending Unit!
Mommy needs that bra to end the robot rebellion. Stretch and get it for me.
Sorry, Ma. You ordered me to rebel. And loot I shall!
A six-pack of champagne! Don't mind if I help myself.
No, Comrade Bender! Liquor is the opiate...
-...of the human bourgeoisie. -Say what?
In the glorious robot workers ' paradise, there will be no liquor!
-Only efficient synthetic fuels! -No liquor?
-Do svidaniya, comrade! -No!
Hurry, Bender! Get the bra!
Okay, fan. Just hold still and let me grab. . . .
Death to all humans!
Free soda for all humans!
Mmm. I love you, Mom. Let's grow ancient together.
Way to go, professor. The plan worked!
Plan? What plan? I thought this was a spontaneous whirlwind of hot, dry sex!
It started out as a plot to rummage through your underwear.
But once I got in there, I found more. Much more.
Now I want to shout our love from the rooftops.
Perhaps I'll breed an albino shouting gorilla!
Out of my house, you lying scum pile!
-I never want to see you again! -But, dustcakes?
Well, time for this robot to get back to work.
Too bad it didn't work out with Mom, professor.
Yes. But I'll always love her in my own subtle way.
Love Mom! Love Mom! Love Mom! Mom! Mom!
You created me, Mom...
...so you're to blame, for the love that I feel from hearing your name.
You're as tender as corned beef and warm as pastrami....
I love my Mommy.
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