Mom on deck! Ten... Ho!
All right, grunts, here's your pre-mission pep talk.
Shoot anyone who doesn't obey hard enough.
But...
Stop gaining knowledge, Hubert.
Lt's a simple mission.
The grunts catch the alien, the surgeon guts it,
and you smuggle the poison parts back here.
Uh, something about poison, got it.
By the way, that surgeon, where is he?
You! Where's the butcher?
Ma'am, I don't know, ma'am. His duffel bag arrlved.
Lt's not a duffel bag. It's my apartment!
Hubert, meet John Zoidberg.
You need an alien hacked to pieces, he's the best there is,
in the budget category.
Have you ever dissected a Yeti before?
Himalayan or Neptunian?
Tritonian.
A Tritonian Yeti?
You two aren't up to anything unethical, are you?
Relax.
There's nothing unethical about covert biological weapons research.
I said, "Relax!"
Ooh! Ooh!
Ah, Zoidberg, we've known each other so long that sometimes
I don't think we even need words to understand each other.
What?
Once and for all, Fry,
even though it's the future, most objects are still just objects,
not aliens who look like objects.
So my efforts to establish diplomatic relations
with the Cactus People were doomed from the start.
So you're in pain and have a bunch of needles?
I prescribe acupuncture. Let's begin.
Blood?
I mean, blood.
Put it back in me!
I'm afraid Fry lost a lot of juice.
He's developed Simpsons Jaundice.
Ay, caramba!
His only hope is some replacement liver.
Yours looks like a good match.
Well, if it'll help Fry...
Careful, Leela! He knows less about human anatomy than I do.
And I can't even find my own uterus.
You may feel a slight sawing.
And all we need is a little spine supplement
to replace what Leela lost in that unavoidable saw mix-up.
It wasn't unavoidable.
You just had to stop cutting my spine when I yelled,
"Stop, you're cutting my spine!"
Quit complaining!
My body rejected your liver, and now I've got Garfield Syndrome.
Oh, I hate Mondays.
Anyhow, Hermes, all Leela needs is one of your vertebrae.
But, Doctor, will I be able to limbo afterwards?
Could you limbo before?
Wait. I say, "Yes," and you say, "I couldn't limbo before."
You ruined the joke, Hermes.
There you go, Leela. Good as new!
Whoa! Whoa!
Oh. Sure, Leela's fine,
but my jaundice has progressed to Muppet Gangrene!
Lt's not easy being gangrenous.
I thought you were only gonna take out one vertebra!
Yeah, but did you ever play Jenga?
Sometimes you pull one and...
Yeah, well, I'm not staying like this.
I can't believe it.
Mmm. What started out as a pleasant afternoon of drugs and surgery
has not gone as planned.
But don't worry,
we still have three or four co-workers with plenty of spare parts.
My first mission. I'm so excited.
And after I dissect the Yeti's poison glands,
we can stop, maybe, for ice cream on the way back?
With sprinkles on?
Why, you're just a big kid, aren't you, Zoidberg?
A very big kid!
We're over the drop zone, gentlemen.
Might I suggest you jump out the door and poop yourselves?
Aah!
So anyway, I hope the men have been taking their hyper-malaria pills.
Their what?
"Their what?"
That's funny, like a crazy old man.
But you know what's not funny?
Deadly Tritonian hyper-malaria.
Just be sure to stay out of the methane swamps.
What smells like methane?
My God! I've never seen such a gruesome shark attack.
Especially this far inland.
It wasn't a shark. It was an awful, incompetent doctor.
Wow, he must've been a total Zoidberg.
It was Zoidberg!
He brutalized us with power tools, gypsy curses and hypnosis.
Yes, master.
You'll all get through this. I give you my word as a real doctor.
What about me?
What did he do to you?
I don't know exactly, but I'm incontinent.
I'm truly sorry.
I consider myself a reasonable man.
Quick with a joke, slow to anger.
But Bender can't go on long car trips anymore,
and I say Zoidberg must die.
People, please. Let's not overreact...
Death to the crab!
How bad is it, Doctor?
Super bad. It's Tritonian hyper-malaria.
A lot of these men will be dead within 24 hours.
What? Not you, though.
You'll make a complete recovery
and go on to marry a supermodel!
Funny plague, hyper-malaria.
It can kill immediately, or lie dormant for decades.
But sooner or later, it erupts,
causing fever, spasms, madness, coma, and finally death.
What?
Supermodel!
Oh! Those poor, doomed bastards.
I guess it's up to me to complete the mission.
I'll be in the swamp, blowing the smirk off a toxic Yeti.
Professor, we need to talk, man-to-mob.
We've had it with Zoidberg! We demand you fire him!
Nonsense. Zoidberg's a fine physician, for aliens.
Your mistake is being humans.
No, if I'm going to fire anyone, it'll be Scruffy.
You can't do that.
Over my dead body!
Don't you get it, old man?
Thanks to Dr. Scissorhands, I wet myself every time I laugh.
Lt's not funny!
Well, I guess it is kind of funny.
Oh-oh.
Why are you protecting Zoidberg, Professor?
Do you owe him something?
Is he blackmailing you somehow?
What does he have on you?
Why have you kept him around all these years
when he's so grossly incompetent?
Long ago, Zoidberg and I entered into a secret arrangement
relating to certain extraordinary events too horrible to reveal.
So there's nothing to be curious about.
Oh!
Stop, or I'll shoot!
Zoidberg?
You can't hunt a Yeti by yourself, sir. It's suicidal!
So what? I'm going to die of hyper-malaria, anyway.
I was in the same swamp as the rest of the men.
Just because you were in the swamp doesn't necessarily mean...
I was thirsty from the flight. I drank swamp water.
Look, Zoidberg, you're a loyal friend.
"Friend"?
But I'm doomed!
I might as well capture a Yeti and die trying.
Then you'll need someone to dissect it, friend.
Go, Johnny! Go! That's an order!
Never! Zoidberg doesn't abandon a friend, apparently.
I'll save us by scaring him off with my crazy war noise.
Crunch all you want. I'll make more.
Oy. I lost another one.
Zoidberg, I'm sorry to break it to you this way,
but we hate you and we never wanna see you again.
But, friends...
We're not your friends! We're your victims!
I was just trying to...
Shut up and give me my kidney back!
I'm sorry.
We don't know why the Professor keeps you around here,
and we don't care.
You're a terrible doctor!
Nobody wants to see you ever again!
Dr. Zoidberg! I want to see you right now!
The time has come, my friend.
We have to talk about our arrangement.
Oh, no. No, no. Oh, no, no, no! Oh, no!
Oh, no!
Un-paw him, you big ape!
I saw this in a Tarzan movie!
Lt was called Tarzan versus the Yetis.
I lost my virginity during the film,
so I'm a little fuzzy on the details.
Oh!
John, are you all right?
You... You saved my life!
Oh, fuff.
Yes, fuff.
How can I ever repay you?
Do you need a slave? Or maybe a butler?
No, I haven't needed a butler since grad school.
But I do need a doctor.
I don't want to die like those Marines, John.
The fever, the madness.
Don't forget the spasms, coma and death.
Oh. I don't want to go through that. I want you to kill me.
All right. Give me the knife.
Not now! Hyper-malaria can lie dormant for years.
Isn't that what you said?
Lt sounds like something I would say.
So stay with me until the symptoms start,
then put me out of my misery.
You must swear!
All right, Hubert, I swear.
It's started, Zoidberg, the fever, the muscle spasms.
I'm dying.
Lt's time for you to keep your promise and kill me.
This is very difficult, but I'll try, friend.
No, wait, I'm afraid to die.
Ah. You said you wanted me to kill you.
Is this one of those "no means yes" deals?
Yes and no.
I do want you to kill me, but I mustn't see it coming.
That would be agony.
So you must murder me completely by surprise.
As God is my witness, you can count on me.
Well, see you tomorrow.
Not surprising enough.
Oh. Ah!
My heart!
Ho.
Hey. What are you doing there?
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Stop, you don't understand.
Let's go, you murderer. Fry, help me lock him up.
Hang on. I'm learning how to do loop-de-loops.
Whoa, whoa!
You're making a mistake. I was only trying to kill the Professor.
Hubert, I'm sorry.
Huh? He doesn't have hair.
Great Little Caesar's ghost!
You fools, you stupid, life-prolonging fools.
I asked Zoidberg to kill me.
What you talking about, Professor? What?
Professor, have you gone mad?
Probably. It's one of the symptoms of Tritonian hyper-malaria.
You mean the incurable disease that causes fever,
spasms, insanity,
Coma,
And finally death?
Yes, and I begged Zoidberg to put me out of my misery.
Bring him, quickly.
Should have known better than to store my antiques in the office.
Zoidberg, we were wrong.
We're letting you out so you can kill the Professor.
No, he sand-crabbed out.
Then we have no choice.
We'll have to mercy-kill the Professor ourselves.
Well, let's get started.
We have a situation, Mother.
This creature tried to sand-crab into the building.
Zoidberg?
Sorry I didn't call first, Carol, but I'm in a hurry.
I need your help to save Hubert.
Let him go and stooge the hell out of here.
We're on it.
Beautiful kids. You must be very proud.
John Zoidberg. It's been a long time. How have you been?
Not too bad.
Last year I took a bus trip to the Grand Canyon.
Later, I'll show you the pictures.
Do you ever regret it, John, leaving me to work for the Professor?
Oh...
What do you want me to say? He saved my life.
Big deal. You could have been rich if you'd stayed.
Your own lab, a full staff.
But Hubert is my friend.
He's very sick.
I can cure him, but I need the thing, the thing from Triton.
It'll cost you, John. How much are you worth now?
I live in a dumpster.
All I have in the world is this coupon
for one free session at the tanning salon.
Oh, John, that's really all you have?
Then, I'll take it.
Okay, Murdolator's finished.
I said I'd kill him myself, but nobody listens to Bender.
We all have to share in the guilt,
which is why we're each going to add one drop of cyanide to the death wheel
as it goes by.
Commence mercy-killing in three, two, a-yup.
Kill-check one is go.
Kill-check two is go.
Ooh!
Lt's about time.
Vegetables activated.
Kill-check three is go.
Also, the salad's ready.
Yes! Salad!
What the hell are you doing?
Zoidberg, we know about your secret agreement.
I am so, so sorry for how we treated you.
And to make it up to you, we're killing the Professor for you
so he doesn't die horribly from hyper-malaria.
He doesn't have hyper-malaria, you idiots.
He has Yeti-ism.
When he saved my life all those years ago,
he was scratched by a Yeti.
Hmm. I consider myself almost completely ignorant of modern medicine,
and I've never heard of Yeti-ism.
It mimics the symptoms of hyper-malaria exactly
except for the part where instead of dying, you turn into a Yeti.
Ah!
Wow. Hold him down while I prepare the antidote.
Another Yeti?
Yes, the same jerk that once noshed on me like a shrimp toast.
Now who's getting his pineal gland extracted?
Yes, this contains a concentrated form of the Yeti neurotoxin.
But that's what gave him Yeti-ism in the first place.
Won't it just make him a double-Yeti?
Don't lecture me about allen physiology, Conrad.
The pineal neurotoxin neutralizes the adrenal neurotoxin.
That's why Yetis don't drive themselves mad.
My God, he's like some kind of believable Hulk.
No time for an injection.
Ah!
I'll be damned. It did make him a double-Yeti.
Lt wasn't supposed to do any of those things.
You did it, Johnny. I'm cured!
All right, let's set it up and try again.
There's one thing I don't understand, Zoidberg.
How did you persuade Mom to give you her precious Yeti head?
Did you have to promise anything in return?
Nothing, nothing at all.
This calls for a celebration. Come on, everyone, let's go tanning.
Hurray!
I was going to tan once.
What do you say, Johnny? Lt's on me.
Thank you, Hubert.
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