-That could be my beautiful soul sitting naked on her couch, if I could just learn to play this stupid thing.
-Oh, but you can. Though you may have to metaphorically make a deal with the devil. And by devil, I mean Robot Devil. And by metaphorically, I mean get your coat.
-You hit a sour note… About 200 years back, Doug! Let’s take it from the top. Ow! Ah! You’ve come back for more eternal damnation. No, this isn’t a religious visit. Fry just wants holophonor lessons.
-Yep. I need to get really good without practicing.
-Hell is full of 10-year-olds who wanted exactly the same thing. Trouble is, you have what my old music teacher… Mrs. Mellonger calls stupid fingers. With hands like that, you’ll be lucky to Master a belt buckle. Now, wouldn’t it be nice if you had a pair of Robot hands to replace them?
-Sure would. Oh, well.
You smelly idiot. I think he’s willin’ to make some kind of deal with the devil with you. H-h-he is? Great! Wait. What’s the catch?
