From 



: Gentlemen?







: 

Aw, crap, singing. Mind if I smoke?



: 

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 f

orging 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!



: 

Just tell me why!



: 

Just read this fifty-five page warrant.



: 

There must be robots worse than I!



: 

We checked around, there really aren't.



: 

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



: 

You stole from boy scouts, nuns and banks!



: 

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



: 

Please stop sinning while I'm singing!



Selling bootleg tapes is wrong,

musicians need that income to survive.



: 

Hey, Bender gonna make some noise! 

With your hard drive scratched by the Beastie Boys!







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



: 

I don't feel well!



: 

It's up to us to rescue him.



: 

Maybe he likes it here in hell?



: 

It's us who tempted him to sin.



: 

Maybe he's back at the motel?



: 

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



:

My ass has blisters from the slide!



: 

Fencing diamonds, fixing cockfights, 

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!