"Good afternoon," said Foss to the stocky, naked manbot who staffed the reception desk at the Office of Animal Control. "I'd like to take out a license for a pet rat."

The robot leaned over his desk to get a closer look at the creature on the other end of the leash in Foss' hand. "Ganesha help us," he remarked with an Indian accent. "For an animal that large, you do not need a pet license—you need a boat license."

Farnsworth the Rat paced impatiently, tugging now and then at the hated velvet leash around his neck. At any rate, it's better than being a disembodied head, he told himself. And I can eat cheese without getting a bowel obstruction. What's not to like?

"I cannot help you," said the robotic clerk. "I am not authorized to give out licenses for abnormally large rats."

"Very well," said Foss, pulling a few bills from his pocketbook. "Will five hundred dollars make this rat turn into a dog before your very eyes?"

The robot glared indignantly at the money. "You insult me, sir. However, since this is my last day on the job, I will overlook your insult and accept your generous bribe."

Foss glanced to the left and right before laying the currency on the desk. "Last day on the job, eh?" he said glibly.

"Yes, sir," said the clerk. "I am being replaced with a machine. Now, please tell me what is the name of your dog."

"Sweet Zombie Jesus," the scientist replied.

The 'bot quickly typed the name into his computer terminal. "The first word is free," he stated. "Each additional word costs an extra two hundred dollars. Are your dog's vaccinations current?"

"I'm afraid not," said Foss.

"The Office of Animal Control offers a full range of veterinary services, including vaccinations," the clerk told him. "Sweet Zombie Jesus requires all thirty-four standard shots, which cost forty dollars each when administered separately. If you wish to save money, you have the option of combining all thirty-four shots into a single debilitating Super Shot."

I'll take the soup, thought Farnsworth.

While the professor-rat endured the pain and humiliation of repeated injections, Bender and Mildred waited in the lobby of the Department of Health and Human and Robot and Animal Services building, engaged in lively conversation.

"So, what else happened while I was in an alcohol-induced coma?" Bender inquired of Mildred. "You already told me about the Brainspawn trying to destroy the universe. What about blernsball? Did the New New York Mets win any games?"

"I don't follow sports," Mildred told him.

"Of course you do," Bender insisted. "You're crazy about blernsball."

"Leela's crazy about blernsball," said the cyclops. "I'm Mildred."

"Huh?" said Bender, confused. "You told me you were Fry."

"Fry's in the hospital."

"He is?" Bender sighed. "That's terrible. Is he conscious? Can I talk to him? I missed the All My Circuits season opener, and I've just got to know who shot Calculon."

Foss stepped into the lobby through the glass doors, dragging Farnsworth behind him. The professor-rat had a new trinket—a shiny silver collar dangling from his neck, engraved with the words SWEET ZOMBIE JESUS.

"Whoo-whee!" said Bender mockingly. "You call that a dog? I call it a bottle opener."

"No jokes, please, Bender," said Foss. "It was easier to license a dog than a rat."

"Give me three mugs like that, and I could guard the passage to Hades," said the robot, chuckling.

"Insensitive clod," said Farnsworth, breaking his silence. "How would you like it if you turned into a rat?"

"Ha!" Bender slapped his knee. "That'll never happen. It's impossible. Er…ah.…it is impossible, right?"

As they strolled away from the government building in the direction of the transit tubes, Foss outlined his plan of action. "Captain Kroker and the Nimbus are in town for a parade, but they're blasting off tonight," he informed Bender. "I need you and Mildred to explain the Raven situation to him, and keep him earthbound until I arrive."

"Where are you going?" the 'bot asked him.

"To fulfill a promise I made to Mildred," Foss replied.

Bender gave the one-eyed girl a quizzical look. "It's our little secret," Mildred told him.

By scanning the transit tube directory, Bender promptly located the tube that followed a direct route to the DOOP spaceport. As he waited with Mildred at the back of the line of commuters, he asked, "Can you tell me who Mildred is again? I forgot."

"For the last time, I'm Mildred," said his companion with a groan.

They shot away, leaving Foss and Farnsworth to themselves. "I'm dying to know," said the giant rat, "what did you offer Mildred in exchange for her cooperation?"

"You'll find out soon enough," was Foss' response. "Now remember, if the bus driver asks, tell him you're a service animal."


To be continued