In which the Professor spends an obscene amount of money, Bender cries out at the injustice of his being bad at gambling and then has a run in with an old employer, Fry and Leela try to have dinner, Hermes goes looking to indulge in the local flora, Amy finds out what the Chef has in store for her after trying to run out on her bill, Zoidberg plots revenge and Fry has waffles.
”I cannot believe you did dat, Professor,” Hermes said as they walked into the suite. “Dat island just cost da company over a year’s worth of profit.”
“Curse them and their high pressure sales tactics,” the Professor said, shuffling into the room. “Imagine them trying to talk me into giving them my money to get an island. What is this universe coming to? Tell me, old friend, is there an out to this Faustian deal I’ve signed?”
“Well, according to this fine print, we can’t sell it for… two centuries. But, after that we’re free and clear.”
“Two centuries? Oh, I hope to be long dead by then. Wait. What about leasing it out? Does it say anything about that?”
“Uh,” Hermes said, scanning the ultra-fine print, “no. And dat means we can do it. What exactly is on de island, Professor?”
“According to this,” he said, reading the purchase documents, “there’s nothing there. It’s got trees, some fresh water, and nothing else. Poo. We can’t rent this, Hermes.”
An idea struck Hermes, instantly improving his mood. “Sure we can, Professor. We’ll market it to folks dat want a desert island vacation experience and make a killing.”
“There’s a market for that sort of thing?”
“Sure dere is. Why do ya tink dat so many people talk about being trapped on a desert island and what music dey’d take wit’ dem? We rent dem da desert island, and dey can decide if dey like what dey brought wit’. It’s genius.”
“Yes, yes. This just might work out, after all.” Looking around, the Professor said, “Where’s my lazy crew?”
“Are they a couple of humans and a cyclops,” a woman’s voice said from near the door. The concierge, Isabella, walked in, her high heels clipping on the tile as she walked toward them.
“Why yes, they……WAAAAAA,” the Professor exclaimed as he turned to face her, and saw her surgically altered face. He took a few deep breaths as he grabbed the left side of his chest. Hermes, his ‘Accountant’s Face’ planted on firmly, didn’t flinch. “I’m sorry about that. At my age, any shock may kill me, and that mess above your shoulders certainly is a shock. In any event, yes, those people and a couple of others are our crew. They were supposed to be here waiting for us. It’s just like them to not be where I tell them to be when I tell them to be there. If I were running some kind of business, say like a delivery business, that could be a major problem.”
“Yes. Quite. In any event, your crew were expelled from the hotel and sent back to the space port.”
“What did those idiots do this time?”
“Nothing. It’s standard policy to eject non-guests from guest rooms during these sales trips. But, now that you have participated in the meeting and purchased some property here on Dorumaa, they can be readmitted to the hotel.”
“Good, good,” the Professor said. “Where the hell are they?”
“I’ll call Leela,” Hermes said, taking out his cell phone-telephone. As soon as he was out of sight of the concierge, he shivered. He’d seen some bad plastic surgery in his time, but that jerked the chicken. When she didn’t pick up, he left her a message, wondering where she was and telling her it was ok to come back to the hotel. He called Amy, and when she didn’t pick up, he left the same message.
Bender was bored.
He’d been standing behind a pillar for fifteen minutes, but no likely mark had wandered by. Several rich-looking targets had wandered by, but all of them had body guards. And the couple of rubes that he’d seen didn’t look like they had the kind of cash he wanted.
“I need to find me a higher class of hick,” he said to himself. “Oh, there’s got to be somebody on this planet dumb enough and rich enough for me to rob. There’s so much fun stuff to do here that I can’t do on Earth, like drinking and gambling and hooker-bots, but I just don’t have the money to do them. Oh, cruel fate,” he cried out as he dropped to his knees, “why do you taunt me so? And by me, I mean Bender?”
After several seconds of crying, Bender stood up and said, “Well, that’s enough self-pity. Time to find a couple of chumps, force them into an alley, and rob them. The old fashioned ways are always the best.”
Walking out of the casino and into the night, Bender pulled his mask out of his casing and started to look for targets.
“I’m just asking why you brought him back with us, Fry.” They had gotten Hermes’ message but went to the ship first to get their stuff before coming back to the hotel.
“You saw the way that guy, or whatever, from Cephalopodia was looking at him. I’ve seen enough cooking shows to know where that was going. I couldn’t leave someone to that.”
“Especially Zoidberg,” the doctor added from behind Leela. He had carried their bags back from the ship, but dropped them as soon as they got into the suite. “Fry, my friend, thank you for saving me from becoming lunch. If that guy was smaller, maybe Zoidberg would be eating calamari right now. Ooo, maybe I’ll be eating that for dinner tonight, why not? We are having dinner, aren’t we?”
“Where they devil have you trouble makers been,” the Professor yelled, shuffling into the room. “I already heard how you got kicked out of the hotel before we even checked in. I won’t have that kind of tomfoolery or shenanigans while I’m around.”
“Professor,” Leela said calmly, “they kicked us out because you were still in the presentation. That creepy concierge told us so.”
“No excuses! No matter how legitimate and non-excusey they sound or how truthful that creepy woman was. Where are that robot and that other one?”
Fry said, “Bender went to the casino and we haven’t seen Amy since Leela parked in that handicapped space.”
“You did what,” the Professor roared.
“Meh,” she said. “It was available. Besides, it’s not like it was my car.”
“Well,” he said, “as long as you have a good, legitimate excuse. Well, we can’t wait around for the others. They’ll have to find their own way back. Get your things, everyone. We’re going home.”
“We can’t leave yet,” Fry said. “We still have two more days on our free vacation.”
“Do you know what this ‘free’ vacation has cost me?” He paused, confused, and then turned to Hermes. “How much has this free vacation cost me?”
“A lot,” the accountant replied.
“A lot,” the Professor said turning back to them. “That’s how much.”
“But the good news is you can make it back in less than a year,” Hermes said, looking up from his calculator.
“Oh. That is good news. Huzzah….,” he yelled, waving his arms in the air. “Let’s celebrate.” Looking at his watch, he said, “Everyone get dressed. If we hurry, we can still make the Extra Early Bird Special at some local eatery.”
“I’ll pass,” Leela said. “For starters, It’s only 2 PM, and I’m not hungry. Plus, I’ve been sitting in the sun all morning…”
“And drinking without eating,” Fry added.
“Yes, Fry, and drinking without eating. Besides,” she added with a yawn, “I’m still on Earth time. I need a nap.”
“I could nap, too,” Fry said, sliding over next to her. “Or whatever.”
“Alone, Fry,” she said, walking away. “And I’m locking my door and setting the Anti-Pervert Alarm.”
Sighing, Fry walked to the room he shared with Bender.
“Well, it looks like just you and me, Hermes,” the Professor said.
“Pass,” he replied. “I’m going to out and check out some of the local, uh, botanical gardens. Yeah… gardens.”
“Yes, yes, get some plants or something to liven up the office.”
“Yeah… the office.”
“Hubert,” Zoidberg said, forgotten. “I’ll go to dinner with you.”
He looked at his old friend for a long time before saying, “Sure, Johnny. Let’s go out for a scuttle and get some food.”
“This is humiliating,” Amy said as the chef tied her to the chair.
“Then you should have paid your bill, deadbeat.” His attitude had changed drastically after she couldn’t pay for all the food she ate.
“I tried paying, but you don’t take credit cards.”
“We only take real money here. The sign’s on the door. You should have seen that before you ate all that food.”
“Surely there’s something I could do to pay for the food,” she said, batting her eyes at the chef.
The chef just laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself, squishy. You’re not my type.” He leaned up against the bar, surveyed the pile of empty dishes on the table. Thinking for a few seconds he said, “Maybe there is something you can do.”
“I am not programmed to be amused,” the Donbot said, tapping his fingers on the desk. “And if were I programmed such, this would not make me so.”
“Please, Donbot,” the head of a courier robot named Eddie, said as it sat on the desk. His body was being worked over by the rest of the Robot Mafia in another part of the room. “Have mercy. It wasn’t my fault.”
“You have repeated this often enough for me to believe that you have a short somewhere in your systems. Eddie, convince me to believe you. Tell me again, from the beginning. Perhaps after the tenth time, you will become more believable.”
His head shuddered as he heard Joey Mousepad slam the sledgehammer into his legs. “It all started when I was leaving the Treasure Planet Casino Royale. I had picked up your take, as usual, when I was assaulted from behind. I didn’t get a good look at my attacker, since he was wearing a mask. I know it was a robot and I know it was Foghat gray, but other than that, nothing. He must have deactivated me, because when I opened my eyes, I was in a ditch. That’s when I came here.”
“Without the money,” the Donbot said.
“Yes, Donbot, without the money. So it wasn’t my fault. It was that Foghat Gray robot’s fault. He’s the one to blame. So, please, be merciful, Donbot. Before this, I’ve never come to you with anything less than your full due. You must believe me, Donbot. This wasn’t my fault.”
The Donbot tapped his fingers on the desk a few more times, then said, “I am in agreement with your story, Eddie. I either believe your version of events, or my processor has developed a short which has forced me to believe you, since your story is so boring. Either way, you will get off with a light killing and a burial at sea. Also, come to work tomorrow as usual.”
“Of course, Donbot. Thank you, Donbot.”
“Yes, yes,” the Donbot said, reaching out and flipping the switch on the back of the head, shutting down the courier. “Joey, Clamps, enough with the beating. We must strategize and find this Foghat gray robot. He has something what belongs to me that I would like back.”
“Will getting it back involve the CLAMPS?”
“Get your death-killing clamps out, Clamps,” the Donbot replied. “I think you will be needing them.”
For once, it wasn’t a good day to be Amy Wong. Oh, the food orgy that she had indulged in earlier was exquisite, but everything afterward had been a disaster. And then the ‘deal’ that she had made to cover her bill was starting to leave her empty inside, both figuratively and literally.
“It’s simple,” the chef had said. “I belong to a special chefs’ club. Every month we have a little competition to see whose food is the best. And by that, we mean who can the most of their food eaten. The prize is nothing but bragging rights, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t mean anything. To those of us in the group, it means everything. When a chef doesn’t win, word of mouth gets around. ‘The food’s no good there,’ it will say. ‘Try this guy’s place instead.’ Every few months, a chef will come in, thinking he’s hot stuff, and then lose. That chef just leaves, never to be seen again. He doesn’t even pack up his knives. Who does that?
“And that’s where you come in. See, I haven’t won in six months. And, as you could see, business has suffered. You’re the first customer I’ve had in two days. And, because of what happened earlier, you’re going to change all of that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat that much in one sitting ever. Tomorrow night, at the competition, you’re going to do it again. And then some.”
“Yeah,” she groaned, “I don’t think so. I don’t think I could eat anything for weeks. Not even a wafer thin mint. In fact, I think I may need a bucket soon…”
“Oh, don’t worry. We’ve got ways of making you eat.”
“There’s no other way?” The chef just laughed. Sighing, she said, “Fine. I’ll do it. But the food better be good.”
“Oh, it will. Don’t worry.”
“So, how are you going to get me into eating shape?”
The chef just smiled.
And now, several hours later, she was feeling completely wrung out. As far as a detox and a cleansing, whatever she had been given was better than the land shark fin enema that she paid thousands of dollars for every three months. But, at least that didn’t leave her feeling like an old dish towel.
“How’s the patient feeling,” a giant obsidian woman said. She was a female version of the chef and the crier from the restaurant.
“Kill me,” Amy whimpered.
“Oh, it’s not that bad, you big baby,” the woman said. “If I had given you the full strength dose, I’d be harvesting your organs for the offal dish. Now, you just relax. Mama Dolche will take good care of you until tomorrow night. After that, you’re on your own.”
“What if I don’t win?”
“Like I said, I’ll take good care of you until tomorrow night. After that, you’re on your own.”
“Woooo,” Bender yelled as the dealer pushed a stack of chips his way. “Finailly things are looking up for me, Bender. Nothing can stop me from spending all this money without any possible repercussions!”
“Ahem,” a robot’s voice said behind him.
Bender was about to yell at whoever it was that was ruining his good time, but stopped when he saw the Donbot with Joey Mousepad and Clamps standing behind him. “Ah bah, ah! Oh, uh, hi there, Donbot. Fancy meeting you here.”
“Yes. I must say that it is interesting to be finding you in this here legitimate gambling establishment, Bender.”
“Yeah,” he replied, nervously. “Interesting. What, uh, what can I do for your, Donbot?”
“Bender, I’m looking for a rat.”
“A rat, Donbot?”
“Yes. Some robot robbed one of my couriers. A Foghat gray robot. You wouldn’t happen to have seen any robot what meets that description, would you?”
“Uh, uh, uh, no. I’m, uh, more of a pale silver. Yeah, uh, screw those Foghat gray guys.”
“That is good to hear, Bender. If you see any of those rat-like Foghat gray robots, please contact me so that I may find out if he has stolen my money and so that Clamps may put the clamps to him.”
“CLAMPS,” the Mafia robot yelled, clicking his death-killing clamps together.
“Yeah, I’ll make sure to do that, Donbot.” As they walked away, Bender quickly pulled all of his winnings into his casing and started to run.
“I’m starving,” Leela said as they were walking down the street later that night. They had both slept through the Professor and Zoidberg going and coming back to the suite. Hermes wasn’t back yet and nobody had seen Bender or Amy since earlier that afternoon, but no one seemed to be that concerned.
“Me too,” Fry replied, looking for a place for the two of them to eat at. “I would kill for something remotely edible. What about there,” he said, pointing to a bar across the street. It was a big, loud and garishly lit place that opened out onto the beach. There didn’t really seem to be any rhyme or reason to it, with people wandering up from the ocean and into and out of the beer garden.
“Meh,” she said. She was disappointed when she saw it was just another chain sports bar that she’d seen on dozens of planets before, but she was too hungry at the moment to care. “It’ll do.”
“I’m glad we’re hanging out tonight, Leela,” Fry said after they were shown to their table. “I thought you were going to make up same lame excuse like wanting to sleep or getting the sand out of your shorts or something.”
“Well, you did a good thing for Zoidberg today, Fry,” Leela said as they walked into the bar. “As much as we all hate him, you did good and I’m proud of you.” At least that was the answer that she gave him.
The place was what Fry remembered sports bars to be like in the past; it was busy, with aliens of every sort watching sports of every sort on the the ultra-high def TVs that covered almost every available surface in the place. At their table, the Ultimate Space Cow Wrestling Federation was on, with the main event, Dave ‘Bovine Killer’ Reynolds defending his title against the Holstein Kid. But Fry couldn’t keep his attention on anything longer than half a second.
Except for the female (he hoped) staff and some of the female (again, he hoped) patrons. They were wearing very revealing (or, for the non-humanoid aliens, what he thought might be revealing) outfits. After a few seconds of trying, he gave up the pretense of looking at the menu and started to stare openly.
“Hey,” Leela yelled at him. “Are you listening to me? I asked you a question.”
“Huh? What? Oh, sorry Leela. I’m in a little bit of sensory overload right here. Between the TVs, the mostly naked women, the food, the mostly naked women and the TVs, I was kind of out of it for a few minutes. What were you saying?”
Sighing, she said, “Fry, this is exactly why we can’t date. You don’t care about anything other than what’s right in front of you.”
“That’s not true…holy wow, would you check out the udders on that heffer,” he said
“My eyes are up here, jerkwad,” a female minotaur said angrily as she walked past the table, with her ample assets barely covered by her skimpy bikini. “You men are all the same!”
“No, I meant her,” he said, pointing to a cow on the TV standing on her hind legs and exposing herself to the fighters.
“Wow, that is quite a rack,” the minotaur said. “You better watch your boyfriend,” she said, winking at Leela. Looking her up and down, she continued, “It looks like he likes his women a little…beefy.” Laughing, she added, “But he may have a bovine fetish.” She grabbed a pen from a passing waitress and scribbled something down on a napkin. Sliding it to Fry she said, “Call me sometime, sweetie,” and then walked away. When he just sat there, his mouth hanging open, watching her furry hips sway as she walked away, Leela growled.
“What I do,” he asked.
“You were hitting on that cow right in front of me!”
“I was not. She was hitting on me! And even if I was, why would you care? We’re just ‘platonic friends,’ remember? You said so yourself when you were hitting on that guy on Doohan 6 in front of me.”
Leela silently stared at Fry, her mouth hanging open. She had been ready to yell at him again for hitting on that minotaur woman, and was waiting for him to give any weak excuse as to why he was doing it, but she hadn’t been ready for him to say that. She sat back and said quietly, “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did.” Standing up, he said, “Suddenly, I’m not that hungry anymore, Leela. I’ll see you back at the hotel.”
She sat there for a while, wondering why she cared if that cow was hitting on him and wondering why she felt so bad about Fry walking out.
Zoidberg was scuttling along the beach one minute and flat on his stomach the next.
“Out of my way, jerk,” he heard a familiar voice say from somewhere behind and on top of him. “Oh, it’s you,” he heard Bender saying as his face was being pushed into the sand. “You gotta hide me, Zoidberg.”
Spitting out the mouthful of sand, he said, “Having problems, master?”
“Shut up and do what I tell you, Jerk-berg,” Bender snapped, looking around. Nervously, he continued, “I’m in trouble here. I think the Robot Mafia is after me.”
“Oh, really,” Zoidberg said, the wheels in his head beginning to turn. “Well, master, it just so happens that I may know of the perfect place for you to hide out, why not?”
“You get me out of this trouble Zoidberg, and we might have a conversation about your debt to me.”
“Meet me at our hotel in three hours. I’ll take care of everything, master.”
As Bender ran away, Zoidberg scuttled back to the hotel. Halfway there, he began to laugh maniacally.
“Well, this is a pleasant development,” Cook said, checking the gauges. He’d dumped Amy on the scale to see how much material had been removed from her system during her afternoon and evening of treatment. “Fifteen pounds,” he muttered, writing something down. “Good, good. That’ll leave her good and empty.”
“Wa…,” she croaked. “Water…”
“Oh good, you’re conscious,” he said, looking at her. “That means you lived through the treatment. You should be proud. Not many people can take Mama Dolce’s secret detox cleanse. But, no water for you, my little bill skipper. It would just fill your belly, and I need you good and famished for tomorrow night’s contest. Still, you do look a little eroded.” She heard him leave the room. A few minutes later, she heard him stomp back in. “Here,” he said, throwing a wet dish cloth into her face. “That’s all you get, so make it last.”
The liquid tasted soapy, and there was something else she couldn’t identify. A small part of her mind hoped it’s only been used for washing dishes, but the rest didn’t care. It was wet and cool, and that was good enough for now.
As he trudged back to the hotel in the dark, Fry was troubled.
While he was mad at Leela for not seeing that he hadn’t done anything to attract the minotaur’s attention, he was happy that the alien woman had found him attractive in the first place. But it had turned out to be a double whammy that she had said so in front of Leela, though. Bad, because Leela got mad at him about it, but good because it gave Leela a dose of her own medicine. She knew how Fry had felt about her for years, but she brushed him off and dated other guys, who all turned out to be jerks. Now she was getting a small taste of what he’d gone through all these years.
But the greatest injury of it all was that he was still hungry. This whole issue had forced him to miss dinner. “Stupid Leela and her stupid girl emotions,” he muttered. “Making me still be hungry when she gets all upset about some stupid thing that’s not my stupid fault.” Looking up, he saw a neon sign that caught his attention.
“Ooo, waffles. I like waffles,” he said as he turned into the small restaurant.