Futurama

The following futuristic science-fiction program

contains scenes of 17th-century pirates.

Also, vampires.

Viewer discretion is advised.

It truly is a grand piano, Madam Glab.

Yes, it is the DOOP's gift to the Vampire Empire.

And all I ask is for your world to join our alliance.

Perhaps. But how am I to transport it to my... planet?

Zapp Brannigan at your service, Your Highnyness.

My crew is ready to die to get it safely to your home world.

No crew, Brannigan!

Well, who's gonna die?

This is a top-secret diplomatic mission.

So, to handle the delivery,

I've hired two civilian know-nothings we'll never see again.

- Hello! - Hello!

Are you quite sure that the piano is... fully operational?

I thought you'd never ask.

- No Rachmaninoff! - What?!

Careful ma'am. Rachmaninoff's a hot-button issue for Bender.

This piano is extremely fragile,

and it's strung to a tension of 2,000 megasproings.

One wrong chord and it could explode!

Wrong chord?!

You insult me, Madam President.

Wrong chord...

Stupid president...

Never get to explode anything.

To an alliance that will last a lifetime.

Or longer.

Admirella,

why is Glab sucking up to the Vampire Empire?

They're a bloodthirsty dictatorship.

- - Indeed.

And this is supposedly the Democratic Order of Planets.

Oh, so that's what "DOOP" stands for.

Glab's final term as president is about to end.

Is this really how she wants to be remembered?

As the leader who secured a valuable ally for the DOOP?

- Yes. -

Trust me, there are considerations at the highest level.

Then why haven't I heard about it?

You're one level below that.

Two, if you keep asking questions.

Careful.

If that thing explodes,

Kif will be mopping you off the walls for hours.

And you never really get it all out.

Man, this piano must be worth its weight in these gems it's made of.

I can't believe no one but me is trying to steal it.

- - Incoming ship!

Ah, there we go.

Sir, it's a vessel in hot pursuit!

My favorite pursuit temperature.

Perhaps it's a sexy she-alien.

- - They've opened fire!

Could it be friendly fire?

Perhaps intimately friendly.

I guess not.

Return friendly fire!

You control the missiles on this ship.

- I know that. -

I just said it out loud so they can quote it at my eventual medal citation.

- -

Fry has fallen and he can't get...

Oh, never mind, he's up.

Fry! Are you alright?

No! Zapp's ship is under attack

and I need you to come pick me up!

Zapp's ship?

That's Kif's ship!

Hurry! I'll be waiting out front with my lunchbox.

- -

- -

We've gotta save Kif!

And Fry!

And Bender too, I guess.

If there's time.

- - To the ship!

Huh. They're not here either.

Well, we've searched the entire infinity of space twice.

Let's go home and start pricing coffin less funerals.

Wait! There's something up ahead!

That's not something.

It's just a creepy, old wreck.

Th-Th-Th-Then what's Fry's lunchbox doing here?

What? He's not eating it.

Careful. There might be splinters of unthinkable size in there.

So, we'll enter in order of expendability.

First, Zoidberg, then everyone else.

- Hooray! -

I'm redshirting with friends!

- -

This turtle soup is still warm.

Whoever was on this ship was just about to eat dinner

when something horrible happened.

And on an empty stomach!

I won't let us meet that fate.

- -

The scorecard stops right in the middle of the fifth frame.

Somethin' horrible must have happened.

Just as they were about to pick up the spare!

The officers' disco!

They must have been just about to do the Hustle

when somethin' horrible happened.

Something even more horrible than the Hustle?

I found something strange behind the DJ station.

It might be a clue.

Zapp? What are you doing here?

And where's Kif?

And Fry?

And Bender, if there's time?

Hey, they took my ship.

Marooned me here like a space-age Gilligan.

Who? Who marooned you?

- Space pirates! - Space pirates?

You know, pirates, but in space.

They've hoisted the black flag!

That means they'll treat us honorably if we surrender.

I didn't crawl under this desk to surrender.

Hoist the flag that means "No."

- We only have one flag. - Hoist it.

Ugh.

Why are humans so scared of their own skulls?

Long John Longjohns,

duly-elected Governor of the Pirate Republic,

at yer service,

ye hen-hearted numskulls.

Surrender yer treasure!

Brannigan never surrenders!

The, uh, Battle of Cowards' Cove?

Brannigan rarely surrenders.

Besides, we have no "traysure."

What's that the robot's stealin'?

Uh, what, this fabulous, gem-encrusted piano?

It's worthless.

Deliver the piano, ye pants-pooping bilge puppies,

or face our wrath!

Ready yer wrath.

Just give it to them, sir.

It's not worth losing our lives over a piano.

You clearly overestimate the value of your life.

No piano!

It's no use, we're out of ammo.

Then we'll ram them!

No point in having a ram if we're not gonna use it.

What d'ye think he's gonna do with that ram?

- -

Damage report, Ultraviolet-Beard?

We're goin' down!

Or up, maybe.

- - Finally,

I can deduct that ram as a business expense.

Huh. They must have mastered the fine art of jump-to-the-side.

Raise shields!

Sir, their ship is taking on vacuum.

Space law requires us to save them.

Space laws were made to be space-broken.

Raise the shields, Kroker!

That's a space order.

Ugh.

Yer ship is ours!

What the H-E-double-hell is going on, Kif?