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WHO: Bender (

boozebot) and Zoidberg (

crabulous).
WHERE: The Warehome.
WHEN: Evening on the 29th.
WARNINGS: None.
SUMMARY: Bender gets so homesick he stoops to a new low: he talks to Zoidberg.
FORMAT: Quick to start, but whatever afterwards!

[There's a few times in any robot's life where they will be faced with a decision. A decision to either rise above their emotions and learn the true nature of robot autonomy, or they go complain to the weird lobster alien that used to work with you. Bender has made his choice.

He arrives as loudly and as angrily as he can.]

Zoidberg! Where the hell are you?

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[Zoidberg hasn't been expecting any guests at his warehome and thus it is in a state of disarray. Alas, he is not the best homemaker, but he does make an effort. He's in the midst of dusting the place, delicately brushing at cobwebs and dog dander with his dainty feather duster. He is wearing a headscarf ala Lucille Ball, humming an old Decapodian work song as he scuttles to the door to greet his unexpected guest.]

Look who it is! It's my old pal, Bender! What a pleasant surprise!

[From inside the warehouse, his bulldog barks.]

[Bender doesn't waste much time in attempting to push past him.]

Cram it, Zoidberg! Plus, let me in!

Oh, please, do make yourself at home!

[He stumbles slightly, clapping his claws together, just happy for the attention!]

I was just tidying up the place! Pull up a chair!

[There really isn't a place to sit. The only furniture is covered by a stack of old newspapers with the coupons clipped out. Generally the place is a disaster. Garbage, broken dishes, burnt out X-Mas lights, a general layer of filmy grime over most of the place. Basically what you would expect after leaving Zoidberg unsupervised in a home-like setting for months.]

[Luckily, Bender is used to squalid conditions with awful hygiene. That's basically his natural habitat. He pushes a whole stack of newspaper onto the floor and sits down, still looking vaguely angry.]

Well? Are you not going to ask me if I want a drink?

Of course! Where are my manners?

[He waddles to the minifridge which may or may not actually be plugged in.]

May I offer you some refreshing Clamato?

No. Get me something good.

[He's pushing a few more of the newspaper stacks onto the floor to make more room for himself.]

[That might be a problem...]

Perhaps a nice serving of Canfield's Diet Chocolate Fudge? Or, I suppose I could whip up some curry lemonade.

[Siiiiigh. He just opens up his cabinet and pulls out a bottle of beer he had prepared.]

Where the hell do you even get that stuff?

I acquired them from the local Duane Reed, using the vast coupons I have amassed through the months.

[He uses a claw to gently open a can of Clamato, then lumbers to the sofa to sit down with Bender.]

If I'd known to expect you, I would have made use of my coupon for Pabst Blue Ribbon beers. I apologize for my carelessness.

Good! You should always be prepared for me to show up. I'm a busy man!

[He chugs down the beer quickly, as if demonstrating how busy he is, and smashes it into the floor.]

And all you do all day is collect coupons. Really, I deserve more respect for all the work I put into this "relationship", Zoidberg!

[The air quotes are in full action here.]

I do more than that, Bender. I hold down steady employment at the mental hospital. And sometimes I mop the floors at the local PinkBerry. Truly, I am a crab of many responsibilities.

You work in the nuthouse?

[There goes his insanity plea plans.]

Well, whatever. Just so long as you stay away from all the places I earn money at. The many, many places.