Robot Devil: Gentlemen?

[Music starts]

Bender: Aw, c___, singing. Mind if I smoke?

Robot Devil: Cigar's are evil, you won't miss 'em. We'll find ways to simulate that smell. What a sorry fella! Rolled up and smoked like a collicella, here on level one of Robot Hell!

Gambling's wrong and so is cheating, so is forging phony I.O.U.s. Let's let Lady Luck decide what type of torture's justified, I'm pit force here on level two!

Ooh, deep-fried robot!

Bender: Just tell me why!

Robot Devil: Just read this fifty-five page warrant.

Bender: There must be robots worse than I!

Robot Devil: We checked around, there really aren't.

Bender: Then please let me explain, my crimes were merely boyish pranks.

Robot Devil: You stole from boy scouts, nuns and banks!

Bender: Aw, don't blame me, blame my upbringing!

Robot Devil: Please stop sinning while I'm singing!

Selling bootleg tapes is wrong, musicians need that income to survive.

Beastie Boys: Hey, Bender gonna make some noise! With your hard drive scratched by the Beastie Boys!

(Record scratching sounds)

That's what-cha what-cha what-cha get on level five!

Fry: I don't feel well!

Leela: It's up to us to rescue him.

Fry: Maybe he likes it here in hell?

Leela: It's us who tempted him to sin.

Fry: Maybe he's back at the motel?

Leela: Come on, Fry, don't be scared! I'm sure at least one of us will be spared, so just sit back, enjoy the ride.

Fry: My a__ has blisters from the slide!

Robot Devil: Fencing diamonds, fixing c___fights, publishing indecent magazines. You'll pay for every crime! Knee-deep in electric slime! You'll suffer 'till the end of time, enduring tortures, most of which rhyme, trapped forever, here in Robot Hell!

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