Author's Note:

I love all the great reviews, they make me feel so good! c: They also make me feel like my next chapter is inadequate. Oh, well. I hope this one isn't. And that's no reason to stop reviewing!

Special thanks to Jellymaster (is it okay if I capitalize your name? xD) for giving the best review I could ever hope to have. And more thanks to Terrahfry for her wonderful, rambling reviews. And everyone else who reviewed. I love you all! :D

I didn't stop to check because I'm lazy, but this relatively shortish chapter took too long to write and get up, or at least it felt like it to me. In my defense, I'm playing baritone sax in a very challenging, high-paced band that started a few days ago and I'm feeling completely out of my league but having lots of fun. That may have slowed me down a little.

Hope you like this chapter!

Fry and Bender both had a habit of ignoring other people's feelings. Bender, often, just because he didn't care about anyone else besides himself (and Fry), and Fry because he was consistently too stupid to pick up subtle/not so subtle hints about what others (mainly Bender) were feeling. This, of course, was a prime example of the second one. Only Fry could never even suspect what his best friend felt for him. A philosopher a thousand years ago once said "You can't tell anyone anything." One can only guess that he meant you have to show them, and this is certainly a situation where actions speak louder than words. Or Bender's words speak louder than my words. Either one would work, but, in any case, I knew that this had to come directly from the robot.

I found Senor Rodriguez seated on the couch in the Planet Express lounge. The fabric of the yellowish couch rose around him, as he was deeply sunk into the imprint he had created by sitting there for hours and hours a day. On the screen, a certain blue Neptunian was waving a cleaver in each of his four hands.

"Today, we're going to cook up a delicious Omicromian bilgerat. Now, this exotic recipe is common in the Omicrom empires six through eleven." A hairy rodent with six eyes was dumped into a pot. "You'll want to strain out the hair after the bilgerat has been boiled for five minutes." Elzar checked his watch, time on the show skipped, and he tipped the large rodent into a strainer. All the matted orange fur was scraped from the bottom, the naked pink bilgerat returned in the pot.

"Bender, I would like to talk to you," I said, clambering up onto the couch and looking up at him with great dignity.

"What the-" he looked around, and then down. "Ugh, get away from me, you disgusting little…" the robot's eyes lit up. "So… out of pure curiosity, are the Nibblonians related to the Omicromian bilgerat?"

"Negative," I replied fearlessly.

"Ah, you're close enough," Bender said, picking me up by my cape. "Do you want to be cooked in the cast iron pot or the zinc pot?"

"Put me down!" I demanded, less fearlessly.

"Stop struggling or I'm going to have to knock you out!"

"Stop it! I want to talk to you about Fry!"

Bender faltered a little. "What about the meatbag?"

"You know."

"No, I don't, you little bastard." He dropped me hard onto the couch. A puff of crumbs and dust grew around me.

"Just please listen to me. I'll be frank- I know how you feel about Fry."

"He's easy to steal from, if that's what you mean," the automaton said defensively, crossing his arms. "He's fun."

"You're in love with him."

Bender's metal cheeks grew red from dangerous overheating and his hands clenched and unclenched with the sound of grating machinery. Anyone would have thought he was angry, but his eyes gave him away. They were shaped in distinct sadness.

"Y-" He began, but flashing red strobe lights began whirling around the room with the scream of a siren.

"Good news, everyone!" the professor's voice boomed from loudspeakers.

"What the hell's going on?" Leela yelled, dashing past us through the lounge to the conference room. Amy followed close behind her, mascara brush in hand and a black streak across her face. The mutant ducked back into the room and grabbed me off the couch.

"C'mon, Bender," she told the robot.

"You and I will continue this conversation later," I said to him sternly over the siren.

We all rushed into the conference room, holding our ears. The professor stood in the corner with one of his new inventions, giggling madly.

The sirens and lights switched off. Professor broke the sudden silence which pressed upon our ears.

"Do you like my new invention?" he asked the table of half-deafened employees.

"…To be honest, no," Leela spoke up.

"I hate it," Amy complained shrilly. "Look what you made me do!" she gestured to her mascara smear.

"I think I lost my sense of taste," Fry said contemplatively, licking his finger. A chorus of exasperated sighs echoed around the table.

"Well, I don't care about your opinions!" Professor Farnsworth ranted. "I can feel good about myself without your worthless approval!"

"Did you want us here for something, Professor?" the cyclops interrupted. "Do we have a delivery?"

"Oh my, no."

"I've had enough of your damn senility!" Bender stood up suddenly and slammed his hands on the table. "You use it to justify your insanity, which you use as an excuse to mess with us!"

"Bender, calm down," Amy said. "He's just an old man."

The robot produced a mirror from his chest cabinet and held it in front of the woman's face.

"Aaaaaaieeeee!" she shrieked at the black streak which reached from her eye to her mouth. "Professor, this is your fault! I'll kill you!"

The automaton picked up the old man by the shoulders and lifted him so they were face to face.

"Oh, my," Farnsworth commented.

A bright red light shot out from Bender's antenna and began circling the room, faster and faster. He yelled, the tone going up and down like a wailing siren, but much more annoying. I was getting very tired of sirens and flashing lights today.

"Alright, alright! I'm sorry, Bender! Put me down!" the old man screeched.

The noise and lights ceased.

"See how you like that," the robot grumbled malevolently, setting his employer down.

Farnsworth dusted himself off and took his seat at the head of the round table.

"I have a package for you to deliver today," he told Fry, Bender, and Leela.

"I thought you said there wasn't a delivery," the cyclops interjected, ruffling my short black fur.

"Oh, my, no. Anyways, the delivery will be to Teslas 2, a planet where almost everything is magnetic. The ground, the food, even the people, oh, my, yes."

"I can't go!" the automaton objected. "I'll be stuck to everything, singing folk songs!"

"Mmm, yes. Have a nice trip!"