Hey, what kinda party is this?

There's
no booze and only one hooker.
Please, Don-Bot… look into your hard drive, and open your mercy
file! No, she'll probably make me do it. Have you ever tried just
turning off the TV, sitting down with your children, and hitting them?
I guess if you want children beaten, you have to do it yourself. No, she'll probably
make me do it. It doesn't look so shiny to me.Yeah. Give a little credit to our public
schools. Incidentally, you have a dime up your nose.

Maybe I love you so much I love you no matter who

you are pretending to be.
Hey, tell me something. You've got all this money. How come you always dress like
you're doing your laundry? I've got to find a way to escape the horrible ravages of
youth. Suddenly, I'm going to the bathroom like clockwork, every three hours. And
those jerks at Social Security stopped sending me chec
ks. Now 'I'' have to pay ''them'!

1. I haven't felt much of anything since my guinea pig died.

2. I meant 'physically'. Look, perhaps you could let me work for a little food? I
could clean the floors or paint a fence, or service you sexually?

3. It doesn't look so shiny to me.

We don't have a brig.

Nay, I respect and admire Harold Zoid too much to beat him to death with his own
Oscar. Uh, is the puppy mechanical in any way? And so we say goodbye to our
beloved pet, Nibbler, who's gone to a place where I, too, hope one day to go. The
toilet.

 When I was first asked to make a film about my nephew, Hubert Farnsworth, I
thought "Why should I?" Then later, Leela made the film. But if I did make it,
you can bet there would have been more topless women on motorcycles. Roll
film!
 Who's brave enough to fly into something we all keep calling a death sphere?

 I am Singing Wind, Chief of the Martians.

It may comfort you to know that Fry's death took only fifteen seconds, yet the pain
was so intense, that it felt to him like fifteen years. And it goes without saying, it
caused him to empty his bowels. Say what?
Is the Space Pope reptilian!? Too much work. Let's burn it and say we dumped it in
the sewer. Oh, how I wish I could believe or understand that! There's only one
reasonable course of action now: kill Flexo!
Ooh, name it after me! I'm Santa Claus! No. We're on the top. I'm a thing. We'll go
deliver this crate like professionals, and then we'll go home.