We need rest. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is spongy and bruised. I daresay that Fry has discovered the smelliest object in the known universe! I decline the title of Iron Cook and accept the lesser title of Zinc Saucier, which I just made up. Uhh… also, comes with double prize money. No! The kind with looting and maybe starting a few fires! When will that be? With gusto.
Kif might! This is the worst part. The calm before the battle. Morbo can’t understand his teleprompter because he forgot how you say that letter that’s shaped like a man wearing a hat.