Jurassic Bark For my next trick, notice I have nothing up my sleeves and nothing in my head.
So if my lovely assistant will kindly supply me with an ordinary, non-fake pitcher of milk.
Behold! The milk has vanished! Exiled, perhaps, to another dimension! Amazing! That's why they call you Bender the Magnificent.
No, it isn't.
They discovered an intact 20th-century pizzeria, like the one I used to work at! Interesting.
No, wait, the other thing.
Tedious.
Let's check it out.
You can see how I lived before I met you.
- You lived before you met me? - Sure.
Lots of people did.
Really.
Truly, they were as gods who built this place.
Next, we come to the splendidly preserved wooden pizza paddle.
Scientists theorize it was used to gently discipline the delivery boy.
Wait a second.
This is Panucci's! I used to work in this exact pizzeria.
And for your information, lady, this was not just used to paddle my butt.
It was also used to move pizzas and crush rats.
I don't know where you get your facts, sir but I am a volunteer housewife with 45 minutes of orientation and a Harlequin romance about archeologists.
Don't wave your fancy degrees at me.
I recognize all this stuff.
Petrified sausages, old Mr.
Vitelli, and that's- Yes? - Pizza delivery for Mr.
Seymour Asses? There's no one by that name here or anywhere.
I hope that in time you'll realize what an idiot you've been.
I wouldn't count on that.
Poor little guy.
You look like you haven't eaten in a month.
Here.
But if Mr.
Panucci asks, your name is Seymour Asses.
I like you, Seymour.
You're not constantly judging me, like all the other dogs.
Are you? We understand each other.
People think you're just a mutt who smells bad can't find a girlfriend and has a crummy job.
But you're keeping it reaI and you call no man "Mister.
" Well, goodbye.
Live long and prosper.
That's the least appetizing calzone I've ever seen.
No! That's my dog in there! It's an outrage, I say.
Ow! Ow! I'm taking him home and I'd like to see anyone try and stop me.
Ow! Oh! Ow! Oh! Ah! And then he was ejected by the guards.
Needless to say, I was mortified.
Well, it's not right to make my dead pet an exhibit.
That's like digging up Lassie and putting her in the Louvre.
Lassie is on display in the Louvre.
I know.
I was deliberately describing a similar situation.
Why don't you try protesting, like those native Martians.
Always whining that people don't treat their ancestors' bones with respect.
Protesting never works.
You're right.
I'll give it a shot! What do you want? - Fry's dog! - When do you want it? - Fry's dog! Yeah! I will now perform my people's native dance.
It says here that this part of The Hustle implores the gods to grant a favor, usually a Trans Am.
Thattaboy, Seymour.
Right here waiting for me as always.
Just like that huge mushroom in my shower.
Hey, there's our little mascot.
You been swimming in the sewer again? You rascaI.
- Fry, cleanup! - Seymour, cleanup! - Good dog.
- That's a good Seymour.
There's dog fur on my slice! No, that's vermicelli.
No fur in here.
He's so cute.
He can do two things at one time: eat and swim.
Three things! Fry, it's been three days.
You can't keep boogying like this.
You'll come down with a fever of some sort.
I'm Dr.
Ben Beeler, the paleontologist who discovered your dog.
Or as some call it, the Beelersaurus.
So do I get Seymour back? Are you caving to politicaI pressure? No.
We're sorry, but there's just too much that fossiI can teach us about dogs from your time.
His name was Seymour.
He was once intimate with the leg of a wandering saxophonist.
He had wet dog smell, even when dry.
And he was not above chasing the number 29 bus.
The 29? Interesting.
- That's all I needed, right? - I'm good.
Okay, then.
Here's your dog back.
Seymour! Lady and gentleman how about a hand for my temporary replacement assistant? I was all in this part! It's magic! You're not fit to wear Fry's leotard! Stop! - Good news, everyone! - Hurray, he's back! And he's looking for a garbage can to put the rock in.
Here you go, buddy.
No.
Actually, we've discovered that Fry's dog was fast-fossilized preserving its cellular structure.
Which means we can clone it! Seymour will live again! A little land mammaI.
Can you believe it, Bender? I'm gonna have my best friend back! Why the idiot convention? Cubert, my precious babe.
I'm going to attempt to clone Fry's dog using the very same apparatus I used to clone you.
Look! There's a smidge of toe still in here.
You see, beneath the fossiI's crunchy mineraI shell there's still a creamy core of dog nougat.
So will Seymour remember how to sing "Walking on Sunshine"? Amazingly, yes.
In cases of rapid fossilization, I can press this brain scan button retrieving Seymour's memories at the precise instant of doggy death.
I'm gonna get my puppy back! In your face, Grim Reaper! Crappy, ineffective reaper.
I just need to reset the Clone-O-Mat from human mode to dog mode.
The dog says: Oh-oh.
This may take a while.
You stink, loser! Hey, Fry, pizza going out.
Come on! But I'm celebrating New Year's Eve.
Like you got squat to celebrate.
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