Bender: Cheer up, meatbag. You've barely touched your amoeba. Fry: It looked good but I just don't feel like eating. You want it? Bender: Nah, I'm trying to watch my input. I need plenty of wholesome, nutritious alcohol. The chemical energy keeps my fuel cells charged. Fry: What are the cigars for? Bender: They make me look cool.
Farnsworth: (on the phone) Oh, how awful. Did he at least die painlessly? To shreds, you say. Well, how is his wife holding up? To shreds, you say. Very well then. (hangs up) Sad, sad, terrible, gruesome news about my colleague, Dr. Mobutu. Leela: Was his apartment rent-controlled?