Parasites Lost Breaker, breaker, this is the|Duck.
You Wanna back off them hogs? Ten-four.
Five miles or so.
|Ten, roger.
I'd better check the fluid levels.
We're okay on Coke syrup.
Oh, man, come on! Coming through! - What's that black cracker?|- A tomato.
You're eating a sandwich|from a men's room? What's the worst thing|that could happen? Ugh, it's like a party in my mouth,|and everyone's throwing up.
Look.
One of them things|like on our mud flaps.
- Yosemite Sam?|- I'm gonna put my moves on her.
Jerk! No one hoots at my captain unless|they wanna go to the next level.
Fry, I'd rather not dignify them|with an ass-whipping.
Yo, sexy mama, let's get busy|and freaky, in that order.
How would you like it if Leela said|she wanted to make love with you? I got five minutes.
She looks|pretty good for a truck-stop chick.
You take that back! She does not|look good for a truck-stop chick! You're right, she don't got|enough meat for me.
She does too!|She's got more meat than a cow.
Ow! Meat than a cow! I can't please Leela no matter|what I do.
I just want her to like me.
Well, there's always hope.
We gotta go fix|the plasma fusion boiler.
- Who are you?|- Scruffy.
A janitor.
- Why aren't you fixing the boiler?|- Schedule conflict.
There, fixed forever.
Oh! Scruffy's gonna die|the way he lived.
Oh, marmalade.
Oh, the hypochondriac's back.
|What is it this time? - My lead pipe hurts a little.
|- That's normal.
Next.
Hm.
He's a witch! - Did you eat anything unusual recently?|- No.
- What about that bathroom egg salad?|- I've had better.
Egg salad? Zoidberg will have to|examine your gastrointestinal tract.
Come, everyone.
|Give Fry some privacy.
If you can't see well enough, there'll|be a close-up on this video screen.
We'll need to have a look|inside you with this camera.
Guess again.
- Gross!|- Go, man, go.
Watch for any subtle irregularity|in Fry's bowel.
It's gorgeous.
|That place used to be a dump.
Eww! - Worms? Puke-a-tronic!|- So the eggs in that sandwich were-? Correct! Worm eggs.
And the|mayonnaise wasn't too fresh either.
It's nauseating, man.
Is there no way|to get rid of the disgusting maggots? Only one.
We'll have to travel|deep inside Fry in this! - Shotgun!|- Shotgun! Aw.
In each survival kit is a|rain slicker, a disposable camera and something to protect you|against bacteria: a harpoon.
Yo, old guy.
Why do we have to use|micro-droids? Can't you just shrink us? No.
That would require extremely tiny|atoms.
Have you priced those lately? - I'm not made of money.
Leave me alone!|- Me next! Your net suits will let you experience|Fry's worm-infested bowels as if you were actually|wriggling through them.
There's no part of that sentence|I didn't like.
Is everyone present?|Definitely.
Here's the plan.
We enter the ear,|drip down the back of the throat and make for the bowel.
There,|we'll irritate the splenic ganglion and cause a spasm, expelling,|among other things, the parasites.
- I'll tell Fry to wash out his ear.
|- No! Fry can't know about the mission.
If he finds out, the worms|will defend themselves.
- They know everything he knows.
|- Like how to make ice-cream soup? - Leela! Your role is to distract Fry.
|- Can do! Leela, you should really try|a facial scrub for your pores.
- Look, a starling!|- Really? Shh, be very quiet.
We're in the ear.
- Okay, professor.
|- What? What about what? What if we go for a walk, possibly,|because it's such a lovely day? I'd love to.
- Let's go where he won't put his finger.
|- It's hopeless! Wait! We just have to get past|the eardrum.
What are they doing to his brain? Giving it a tune-up.
A quick glance suggests|they've doubled his thinking power.
My God! Soon he'll be smarter|than Cher! Ah, the scent of a rose.
Curious|how aromatic hydrocarbons can evoke deep emotions.
|For you.
That's a beautiful thought.
And you expressed it|without spewing crumbs at me.
Brace yourselves.
We're entering|the interior of Fry's nose.
We're at finger-alert five! Let's just pray nothing stimulates|his smell receptors.
Nobody make a smell.
Quick! We can escape through|that capillary into the sinus.
Usually you don't know|a thing about human anatomy.
I learned it from a decongestant|commercial: "Soothing action " - Where are we, the ass?|- The heart.
- Better known as the love muscle.
|- Which digests food.
We should be safe so long|as nothing makes it beat faster.
- Abandon ship!|- No! Set course for|that cholesterol-encrusted valve.
It's good cholesterol,|but it spreads like bad cholesterol.
They're Jazzercising Fry's muscles.
He'll be as strong and flexible as|Gumby and Hercules combined.
Gum-ercules?! I love that guy.
It's that jerk from the truck stop.
|Let's go blend in with those pimps.
I don't think so.
|Sir, you owe this lady an apology.
Fry, no! He's bulging with|what could be muscles.
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