Warning - The situations portrayed in this story are based on real deaths and are extremely graphic.
Ever get the feeling that life has it out for you? Do you ever ask, "Why me God?" And do you swear to have heard, "No offense but your name just came up!"? If so, look at it this way: you could have it much worse...as in the case of Zoidberg.
Zoidberg is the doctor at Planet Express and not a very good one too. He's a poor doctor, financially and professionally. A double play on words that is.
Zoidberg is basically the future's version of Charlie Brown from the Peanuts comic strip. He has no friends, everyone hates him for no apparent reason, and nothing ever seems fair. But luckily, Zoidberg has the sympathy of Futurama's fans, all of whom sympathize with underdogs.
Years ago, Zoidberg became a hero when he saved Earth from being enslaved by his own species. Yet as time goes on, people forget, and Zoidberg has once more faded into obscurity, unloved and living a life without purpose, without hope, without happiness.
Zoidberg's mood can be best described as "in the dumps". Ironically, that's where he lives!
"When no one understands you, or the little things that you do..."
We join Zoidberg as he sits in the dumpster, singing a song to hopefully attract sympathizers. So far, it's not working. Once more, Zoidberg has had a bad day. It was his birthday today and as usual, no one cared. No one sang "Happy Birthday". No one shared his cake with him. No presents to open. No birthday cards. Nothing. All his other co-workers had other things to do. Hermes had to work. Amy had to wash her hair. Bender had to drink beer. And Fry... oh forget it, you get the picture.
Not even Turanga Leela, another outcast because of her single eye shows pity. She would rather hang out with her mutant family in the sewers than spend a day celebrating Zoidberg's special day.
Poor Zoidberg. Someone should put him out of his misery and brighten his spirit. Luckily for the doctor, someone does care. Unluckily, not in the way he hopes for. For that someone is the grim reaper itself.
"Nobody knows, the trouble I've seen! Nobody knows my sorrow! Nobody knows the trouble I've seen! No! No! Noooooooooooo!"
Unfortunately, Zoidberg's troubles are only about to get worse.
Without warning, there's a sudden jolt. Had Zoidberg not buried himself under all the garbage for warmth during the cold night, and had he not been singing his heart out, he would have seen and heard an approaching garbage truck. The dumpster is picked up and its contents are dumped into the truck, including Zoidberg. Another dumpster is emptied in the same manner, dumping more garbage on top of the doctor.
"Hey!" Zoidberg shouts. "Stop! Someone's in here!"
Unfortunately, the driver of the garbage truck is busy listening to his favorite music station and he has the volume turned up, so Zoidberg's cries for help fall on deaf ears. More bad news, he activates the compactor, beginning the process of crushing and compacting the contents of the truck.
Zoidberg continues to shout for help and whoop, but to no avail. Eventually, the garbage piled up on top of him compresses down upon his chest, preventing his lungs from expanding and taking in oxygen. Mercifully, Zoidberg passes out from crush-asphyxiation before the rising pressure upon his body from the compactor compressing all that garbage causes his bones to break and his internal organs to rupture. Death occurs from massive internal bleeding.
By the time the sanitation department found what was left of Zoidberg, it had to be cleaned out with a bucket and a mop.
They say life is a gift, but to Zoidberg, life was a curse. Zoidberg died the way he lived: horribly. But considering the circumstances of his life, death was considered an act of great kindness.
Rest in peace Zoidberg. Or rather, considering the circumstances of your death, pieces! (drumroll and rimshot)