Chapter 3

May 15, 1991

Fry was lying in bed, sleeping. He was tossing and turning with a wet washcloth on his head.

"Dude…du-ude…hey, wake up!" said a voice.

"Mom? Mom, is that you?" asked Fry, still half-asleep.

"No," said the voice. "I don't think I even know you. Maybe I do, but I'm not sure."

Fry opened his eyes. He saw…himself! "You all right?"

"AAAAAAAHH!" screamed Fry. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Phil, but everyone calls me Fry," said Phil.

"No way! My name's Fry!" said Fry. "But I forget my first name."

"Maybe we're relatives," said Phil. "We kinda look alike." Fry got out of bed. His younger self was shorter than he remembered.

"Wow," gasped Fry. He remembered his room, exactly the way he left it: a pigsty. "I remember this room! Aw! It's my collection of belly-button lint! And my booger stash!"

"What are you doing?" asked Phil.

"Uh…this is your room?" asked Fry nervously.

"Phil!" screamed his dad from downstairs. "What the hell is going on? Is it an alien?"

"DAD!" screamed Fry. "Oh, man! Thought I'd never miss his voice…or his theory on space aliens addicted to cheese."

"How do you know about that?" asked Phil.

"I…can't really tell you," said Fry. "But I will tell you this…if you got hit by that car, you would've been in the hospital for weeks with a dent in your skull." Fry lifted up to V-shaped part of his hair to show him the dent, but it was disappearing. "What the—"

"Look, dude," said Phil. "If you're trying to scare me, it's not working. I really have to finish my pre-calculus homework."

"Pre-what?" asked Fry.

"You don't know what pre-calc is?"

"Well, no. Since that accident, I haven't been able to learn as much as a normal person. That's why I lack the Delta brainwave…whatever that is. That's why I dropped out of college—freshmen year! But before that, I had to take a special class in high school—"

He stopped. He realized something important. "I forgot to wear underwear today!"

"Dude, sick!" said Phil. "Wait…you kinda look like me."

"Phillip!" said his mom downstairs. "Time for dinner! Your friend can join us, too!"

"Mom made her special football-shaped burgers for dinner. You want some?"

"I love Mom's—I mean, sure," said Fry.

Fry and Phil walked downstairs. There was Yancy, his older brother (two years older than Phil), his mom, and dad.

"Well, who's this handsome man?" asked Mrs. Fry. "C'MON, YOU STUPID QUARTERBACK!" (She was of course referring to the Minnesota Vikings…heh heh.jk)

"Uh…my name's Alex…Alex McFly," said Fry, thinking quick.

"Nice to meet you," said Mr. Fry.

Yancy looked at Fry, then for the first time felt something that wasn't disgust for his little brother.

"Sit down," said Mr. Fry. "My wife made her famous burgers." So Fry and Phil sat down and started eating.

"So tell me, Alex," said Yancy. "Where do you live?"

"Oh, I live over on Gregory Xweetok IV Road," said Fry. "I mean Al Capone Boulevard!"

All was silent until—

"YES! YES! YYYEEEEEESSSSSSS!" screamed Mrs. Fry. "THE VIKINGS WON! VIKINGS WON!"

"Well, I'll be an idiot's father," said Mr. Fry. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine," said Fry. "I'll be thirty in August."

"Hey, that's when my birthday is," said Phil. "What day?"

"The 14th?"

"That's mine, too! We're like brothers!"

Fry felt a chill go down his spine.

"I gotta go!" said Fry with a squeak in his voice. "Uh, Phil? Can I talk to you?"

Phil got up and went outside with Fry. The house was still a dump—just as it would be in eight years...and in 1014 years, too. "Listen," said Fry. "I have to tell you something. I'm from the future."

There was a pause. "What?"

"My name really isn't Alex McFly. Or Marty P. Keaton. It's Phillip J. Fry, just like yours."

"Are you me…from the future?"

"Yeah. From the year 3005."

"…Wow. I can't believe this is—3005?" screamed Phil.

"Shh! I got frozen in 2000, two seconds after New Year's Eve. And about the car-pushy thing? If you got hit, you would've been in the hospital for weeks with a dent on your forehead and you would've been dumber than before. You would've had to drop out of high school, then go to Coney Island College and still drop out, then become a pizza delivery boy for Pannuchi's pizza, then I got frozen and wound up in the year 3000 and met this hot Cyclops chick and a talking robot. That's my life story, did you like it?"

Phil had a blank stare on his face. "If I got hit by the car, I would've been an idiot like you?"

"I'm are…not a idiot," disagreed Fry. "I mean I'm not an idiot. Or a moron. Or a—"

"Okay, I get it," said Phil. "Sounds like you're becoming a little smarter."

"I have to find my friends before it's too late."

Meanwhile, in downtown New York…

"Okay, baby," said Matt Parker. "Just a few more hundred pictures."

"Hundred?" said Leela. "Can I least get something to eat? Or inject?"

"Sure," said Trey Stone. "We have Doritos, Pepsi, Mountain Dew, Hershey Bars—"

"I'll just have some Fema-Slim," said Leela.

"Uh…you mean SlimFast?" asked Matt.

"Sure," said Leela. She was handed a chocolate drink and downed it.

"Wait," said Trey. "That look! I have to have you drinking that with—oh! Get some more SlimFast!"

Matt got more drinks and gave them to Leela. "Okay, sweetheart," said Trey. "Just splash it on your face."

"What?" asked Leela.

"Just splash it on your face," said Matt. "It'll bring out your eye more."

Leela splashed the chocolate drink on her face as Trey took some more pictures.

"Don't worry, Lisa—" said Trey.

"Leela," said Leela.

"Right," said Trey. "We'll get you posing with the biggest stars that live in New York! Phil Hartman, Dana Carvey, David Letterman, Michael J. Fox, Adam Sandler—"

"Hold on," said Leela. "Did you say 'David Letterman?"

"Sure did."

"Wow. David Letterman! Fry'd like that."

"Who's Fry?" asked Matt.

"Uh, someone I work with. We're kinda boyfriend-girlfriend."

"Sure, sweetheart," said Matt. "We'll try and get David Letterman."

Meanwhile, in the Bronx, Bender was in the best place in the world: prison. At least, that's what Bender thought…until now. He wasn't in the outside world, but he was making history.

"I demand booze!" said Bender. "I need to booze to live!"

"Yeah, right," said the guard. "You're jus' doing that to get me ta realize ya."

"No!" said Bender. "I need booze or else I—"

"He's over here!" said a reporter. "Is my suit okay? All right…3…2…and…I'm Dick Smiley continuing my documentary 'Criminal Masterminds '91. I am standing in front of a Canadian robot named Bender Rodriguez. He claims to run on drinking alcohol and cigars. No one knows whether or not the Canadians want to negotiate with us or not, but I'm going to get an interview with the robot. Um…01001100101011001."

"WHAT?" screamed Bender. "My mother was not a whore!"

"Is that what I said?" asked Dick to the cameraman. The cameraman shrugged.

"I'll tell ya something," said Bender snatching the microphone. "This place is horrible! I can't get any food! I always get this stale starchy things and clear, flavorless alcohol."

"That's bread and water," said the guard.

"I NEED BOOZE! When I get out, I will personally pay a visit to the cops who have killed me."

"All right," said the reporter. "There you have it, folks. A mad mad robot in jail. Tomorrow we'll visit a maniac…with a knife! I'm Dick Smiley."

Back at the Fry's, the family was gathered around the TV after they ate dinner.

"…and we say goodbye to a wonderful goldfish," said the reporter on the TV. "And now, continuing his documentary 'Criminal Masterminds '91, here's Smiley Dick."

"Dick Smiley," corrected Dick. "Yes, earlier today, I caught up with the most dangerous criminal in New York City, Bender Rodriguez, who is a robot from Canada."

Fry stared at the screen. His best friend was in jail.

"Canadian robots?" asked Mr. Fry. "It's a government conspiracy, I tell ya."

"When I get out, I will personally pay the cops that caught me a visit," said Bender on the screen.

Fry gulped. He had to get his friend out of jail, he had to make sure he didn't change the future, and he still didn't know where Leela was. What'll happen next? Stay tuned!