Original subtitles

(whistles)

(quacks)

(elephant trumpeting)

Today, son, I teach you to catch many food beasts.

Bring great honor to our tribe.

(clavichord playing)

Patience, Wolfie, patience.

Embrace the music with love, son.

With feeling.

(drum and fife corps playing "Yankee Doodle")

That's right, son,

study very hard and you may be the father

of more than just your children someday.

(grunts)

(truck horn honks)

(static hissing)

CHARLES: Morning, Dad.

We're off to get an education

in the hopes of one day

making a meaningful contribution to society.

And though we have no reason

to expect anything inspirational,

we're semi-open to whatever fatherly advice

you'd like to foist upon us.

Fill it up. Unleaded.

AUNT BERNICE: You'll have to excuse your father.

He's been like that since 10:00 last night.

The cable company accidentally unscrambled

the Bouncing Naked Flesh Channel for three seconds,

and he's afraid to blink in case it happens again.

Check, please.

(turns off vacuum)

Off to school, boys.

There'll be time enough later to watch him degenerate

into a desperate and pathetic middle-aged man.

Good luck, Dad!

Follow that dream.

(both laughing)

The economy, of course, being a primary concern.

Personally, I don't mind him sleeping the night on the sofa.

It saves me from having to hose down his rubber sheets.

(laughing)

This looks like as good a time as any to go through his mail.

Eh, junk, junk, junk.

Summons, junk, junk, summons...

Duckman!

Did you see this letter?!

This is incredible!

They're sending the home electrolysis kit

I ordered for you?

No, you slobbering imbecile,

it's from the Littlefield School for Gifted Boys.

For, huh?

It's a private educational institution upstate,

and listen to this-- they want Ajax!

Look, I told those quacks over and over,

if they want to hook electrodes up to my kid's head,

the figure they mentioned wasn't even in the ballpark.

Not for experimentation.

It's a boarding school.

They want him to be a student!

(both laughing)

(passing gas)

DUCKMAN: Gifted boy? Gifted?

Where's he going to get the gift?

(laughing)

Wait a minute.

What if it isn't a mistake?

What if they really do want him?

Maybe he is a gifted student

with promise and potential we don't even know about?

Hey, someone, the escalator stopped.

I'm stuck.

(crickets chirping) Somebody!

Well, it doesn't mean the right education couldn't change him.

Bernice, the boy is 15 years old.

He still hasn't mastered the four-slice toaster.

Besides, I can't believe you're even thinking about

sending Ajax away to a boarding school.

He's my son. I love him.

He's the only one around here I can talk to.

No way that boy leaves this house.

It's a scholarship. It'd be free.

Anyone needs me, I'll be turning his room

into a pool hall/Babe-A-Torium.

Not really.

It's just a long way to go for a cheap joke.

Just think about it, okay?

I've got to take Ajax his lunch again.

He forgets that yesterday's is gone now.

Wait a minute. I'll do it.

You?!

Yeah, me. I'm his father.

What do you think I am, completely disconnected

from my son's life?

Where does he, uh, go to school again?

(heavy metal music playing)

Ah, the hallowed halls.

Good. They finally got a metal detector.

That will keep out the riffraff.

(alarm sounds, Duckman screams)

Wait a minute, it's just a lunch box.

Nothing is just a lunch box.

(eerie jungle noises)

(deep voice): The horror...the horror.

Uh, excuse me

I'm looking for my son, Ajax.

You don't have a hall pass either!

Do you?!

(laughing hysterically)

(howling insanely)

(students yelling, automatic gunfire)

(girl moaning)

It's okay.

I'm her geometry teacher.

Hey, I ain't in it for the salary.

(loud rumbling, Duckman screams)

(panting)

MAN: Sorry, mate.

Garbage from the cafeteria tends to pile up a bit, eh?

Ooh, watch yourself.

It's the gangs.

(clattering)

(Duckman grunting)

Cool it, daddy-o.

Let's save our strength for the Sharks.

(dramatic music playing, snapping fingers)

(groaning)

(growling)

(Duckman yelling)

Let's go put on a show, Alfalfa.

(all laughing)

Dad...

What brings you here?

Twinkie?

Thanks, Dad.

DUCKMAN: Beatrice?

No, I'm the one who had the sound judgment

not to marry you.

Bernice, I was attacked, beaten, left for dead.

I warned you not to join a record and tape club.

No, at Ajax's school. Where's Ajax?

He's in his room watching PBS. Hmm?

Today is sponsored by the letter "H."

Thank God he's okay.

That school is a hellhole.

I just don't understand.

It used to be such a fine school.

What could have caused such a decline?

ALL: No new taxes! No new taxes!

(chuckles nervously): Who knows?

The important thing is that my son

can't go to school in that sewer!

I hate to admit it, but I think you were right.

I think he would be better off at that private school.

Could I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?

Ajax, we're sending you to boarding school.

What if I just had peanut butter?

It's a wonderful opportunity, Ajax.

Well, it's...

not that we want you to leave, son.

It's just that we want what's best for you.

You understand.

I tell you what, you wouldn't have to leave till Monday.

What do you say you and me have the weekend of our lives?

Just the two of us doing anything you want to do.

Okay, Dad.

* People, let me tell you about my best friend *

* He's a one boy, cuddly toy *

* My up, my down, my pride and joy *

* People, let me tell you about him *

* He's so much fun *

* Whether we're talking man to man *

* Or whether we're talking son to son *

* 'Cause he's my best friend *

* Yeah, he's my best friend *

* La, pa-da-da-da-ya *

* Pa-da-da-da-ya *

* Pa-da-da-da-ya... *

(continues humming)

(continues humming)

(music fades)

(yawning)

Good night, Charles.

Good night, eh... Charles' brother.

TWINS: Good night.

Good night, Bern... (Aunt Bernice screaming)

(sputtering) Yuck!

It'll be a long time before I eat broccoli again.

(neon light buzzing)

Good night, son.

I'll miss you.

(snoring)

DUCKMAN: A good education-- that's the key to life, son.

Getting back to the three Rs:

Reading, uh, Running, and, uh, the other thing.

Duckman, stop!

What?! What?!

(bike bell ringing)

Bernice, don't yell like that.

I thought I was going to hit something.

(cow mooing)

Unpack the car, will you, son?

Sure, Dad. (car dieseling)

Just look at this place.

I'll be in no time at all,

they're going to double his I.Q.

Throw me the keys.

Sending it soaring into the high teens.

Ah, splendid. You've arrived.

Welcome to Littlefield, Ajax.

We're most eager to have you in our family.

I'm Professor Edwin Byer, headmaster of Littlefield.

You must be Duckman.

And this is your lovely wife?

(sputters)

Don't even kid about that.

Oh, I'm Bernice, his sister-in-law.

Thank you so much for your oversight-- graciousness--

in allowing Ajax

to come to a school like this.

Well, every year, we select one student,

based on very strict criteria,

to come here on scholarship.

So, what clinched it, Professor?

His raw potential, his hidden abilities,

his good breeding stock?

He scored lowest in perceptible brain waves and qualified

under Project Emergency Intelligence Relief.

Congratulations, son, you came in first.

Tied, actually.

The other was a Bein Heroda Lamb Ohamada

who lives in a grass and manure hut in Bangladesh.

Ajax edged him out

by having a less tolerable living situation.

Tell me about it, Ed.

She can be a real pain in the-- Whoo!

So... (glass breaking)

shall we see your lovely campus?

You can see the Olympic-sized pool there

between the tennis courts and the polo field.

To our left is the student cafeteria

where four-star chefs

prepare low-fat, high protein meals.

Straight ahead, our NASA antigravity stimulator.

No kidding. Ow!

And this is the student union

where you can relax, have a cappuccino,

and to use youth's colorful vernacular,

rap with your peers.

Will they be grossed out

if I occasionally scrape the fungus off my bill?

(gasping)

(chuckling): Not at all.

As you can see, we have the socially challenged section

where you can perfect your interactive skills

(belching) without judgment

until you're ready to integrate with the others.

Oops! I'm so sorry.

Did I disturb you?

Huh?

Huh? Huh? Huh?

I'm Deana. What's your name?

Duckman. Duckman with an "D."

In fact, PhD, Loveology.

Perhaps you'd care to stay after class

while I grade on your curves?

(Duckman grunts) You're pathetic.

You've got kidney stones older than her.

You look new.

Here's my phone number.

Call me.

We can go to Friday's mixer together.

Bye-bye.

Be good, okay?

Brush your teeth,

and promise you'll bathe at least once a week

even if the other kids laugh at you in the shower.

(sniffling)

I promise, Aunt Bernice.

(gentle music playing)

Son. Dad.

(music swells)

Wow. For a moment,

we were just like one of those ideal families

in those sappy situation comedies.

Yeah. The kind where they learn something

from each other every week

and then the music swells, and they hug.

(laughing)

Well, good luck, son.

All right, let's go.

These candies melt,

I can't use them as slugs in the toll basket.

(sniffles)

(gasping)

Deana's phone number!

I don't think that's something you have to worry about

just now.

(Byer laughing deviously)

Ajax, knock off that racket.

Ajax isn't here, Duckman.

Oh. Right.

Humor him. This could be the snap

the social workers warned us about.

Okay.

Gee, Dad, it must have been difficult

sending your firstborn away

from the only home he's ever known.

(sniffling)

(sobbing)

You did your best.

You know, it is pretty empty around here.

(sniffling)

What's in the box, Duckman?

Some of Ajax's stuff.

I just wanted to be around it, you know.

Wow. I remember that day.

His souvenir program from Sorrow and the Pity...

on ice.

His first reading primer

still wrapped in the original plastic.

His third grade report cards

(sniffles) from all four years.

Look, his Bebe Rebozo autographed baseball.

Oh, his first teething ring...

and his most recent one.

And here's his collection of animals

that were run over on the freeway. (flies buzzing)

(all sobbing)

Oh, he loved these-- his Silence of the Lambs action figures.

Remember how he used to play?

(as Hannibal Lecter): Are the lambs silent, Clarice?

(slurping)

Go eat a leg, Lecter.

Oh, who are we kidding?!

We're miserable without him!

Even Grandma-ma misses him.

(passing gas)

(sobbing)

I wonder what our little Ajax is doing right now.

Ah, loli Taraxacum officinale,

how abundant are your spores?

(yelling)

What's happening to me?

* Oh, Ajax boy *

* The pipes, the pipes *

* Are calling * (sniffing)

Did you know it smells like decomposing animals

that were run over on the freeway in here?

(flies buzzing)

Duckman, why all the crying?

Did that lady wrestler finally slap you

with a harassment suit?

ALL: We miss Ajax!

(passing gas)

Norman Rockwell, on acid.

Duckman, you left this letter from Ajax in the office.

He writes every day.

Sounds like he's having a good time.

That's what it sounds like,

but look at what the first letter

of every word spells.

So what? It's gibberish. Seemingly.

But viewed through a prism...

and reversed in a mirror,

it clearly reads...

Sometimes after an electrical storm,

I see in five dimensions.

Why are the 60 of you looking at me like that?

You hear that? Ajax needs our help!

I'm coming, Ajax!

Daddy's coming to get you, son!

Just hold on.

Nothing's going to stop me from rescuing you

from your living hell!

Ooh, Mr. Slurpee.

(tires screeching, gears grinding)

Come on, baby! Free game!

Uh, Duckman?

Yeah? Oh. Right. Let's go.

(tires screeching)

(tires screeching)

Ajax, where are you, son?

We're here to save you.

Very touching.

(gasps): You!

Byer, beware.

(rumbling, Duckman yelps)

(laughing) Don't take it personally.

I do this to all my prey.

Allow me to introduce myself.

(gasps): King Chicken!

You remembered.

How sweet.

(hissing)

That's right, there is no Littlefield School.

It's all just a facade, a sham--

even these buildings.

(crashing)

And I thought my apartment walls were flimsy.

The students, professors-- all animatrons.

Robots.

Even Deana, that lovely coed?

Nope. I've never been able to make breasts.

She's a Muppet.

Oh! To be Frank Oz for a day.

What's this all about?!

Revenge!

I'm getting back at Duckman

by educating his son-- no easy task, to be sure,

but I'm doing it through a renewed focus

on the empowerment of learning

and a return to traditional discipline.

My God! You're sick!

You're employing objective standards

instead of the coddling of the individual? Why, yes.

With attention to fundamentals, drill work, repetition?

Oh, yes, yes. Making the slow students catch up

rather than slowing down the fast students?

Don't stop. And... And...

corporal punishment! corporal punishment!

The slap of a cat-o'-nine-tails on young skin.

The heft of a new blackjack in your hand.

Three pound, or 5.2?

Oh, three pound is for wimps.

Oh, my, you are an enchanting creature.

Just someone who cares.

Uh, hello, Mr. and Mrs. Creepy!

Can we get back to the subject of Ajax?!

Where is he?! Is he okay?!

Easily answered.

(rumbling)

You get the Bouncing Naked Flesh Channel on that?

(static hissing)

That's a trick question, Professor.

No one element has the highest valence.

Rather, osmium and ruthenium share that distinction.

No...!

What's wrong, duckbreath?

Didn't want your son to be a brainiac?

Of course I didn't. If he's too smart...

You won't be able to talk to him.

That's my plan-- to alienate the only one in your family

you can relate to.

How? How did you...?

It's my business to know.

(static hissing)

Uh, people tell me you're so stupid,

they're surprised you don't walk on your knuckles.

But I just want you to know,

you're the only one in this family I can understand.

You mean it?

You know, you're probably my favorite dad.

Only. Only what?

Only Dad. Only Dad what?

(yells)

You can almost feel your brain cells dying, can't you?

I demand that you let us go!

Or what?

Well, uh, you know the one

where you take a bag full of dog doo

and set fire to it?

Duckman, why is he doing this to you?!

I'll tell you why.

We went to school together.

I was always the smart one, and for that reason alone

I was ridiculed, picked on,

ostracized from the rest of the children.

(sobbing)

And the leader of this intolerant mob

was Duckman!

Hey, what's a little laxative in your milk

before your valedictory speech?

Because of you, I was laughed at, isolated,

and my life of bright promise

was turned into a life of vicious crime.

So I'm going to isolate you from your own son

and let him see what it feels like

to be ostracized because of his genius.

(evil laughter)

(laughter continues)

You got to like the way he stays cheery.

I have a plan.

(whispering)

Yoo-hoo! Kingy!

I was so enjoying our talk about education

I was hoping we could plan some extracurricular activity.

Has anyone ever told you

what a big, strong broiler you are?

And your feathers-- they're baby-soft,

just like a little...

Pullet?

Well, you better buy me dinner first.

(both laughing)

Baby.

(both laughing)

Your laughter's like music.

Uh, speaking of music,

we can perform a whole symphony together

if you'll let me out.

I used to play the trumpet.

Hee-ya!

DUCKMAN: Let's go get Ajax.

In the literary device known as onomatopoeia,

words resemble the sounds they describe, i.e.:

Splash, sizzle,

crack, splat,

shuffle, riffle,

and this tiny ringing sound.

Tinkle?

No, thank you. I went earlier.

(screeching) Don't worry, Ajax.

I've come to save you.

Dad. Unfortunately,

due to my newfound intelligence,

I have nothing else to say to you.

Exactly. It's too late to save you.

Oh, yeah? Come here, Chicken,

and prepare to meet your Colonel.

AUNT BERNICE: Look out! (crashing, Duckman yells)

Oof!

(grunts)

(King Chicken yells, phone rings)

(clunking, Duckman grunting)

Take that!

I can't see.

This will get the dust out. (grunts)

What a woman.

(yells)

(creaking and crashing)

You're finished, King Chicken, washed up.

Don't be surprised if MTV Unplugged calls you.

Who's laughing now?

(evil laughter)

(yells)

Curses! Hoyled again.

You're safe now, son.

Good thing you sent that secret message.

What secret message?

Oh. Right. Like you're perfect.

We're sorry, Ajax.

We didn't know this whole place

was a fake-- the building,

the headmaster, the students.

Oh. That reminds me.

Dad, Aunt Bernice, this is my friend Jeffrey.

If it's all right with you, he's going to be coming

to our house for Thanksgiving weekend.

Ajax! You're not lost to us!

Having nothing to do with a lack of faith in our abilities,

I had the foresight to call the police.

Let's all go home.

It's time to get you back to your old school

where you don't have to be smart.

They like you just the way you are.

Thanks, Dad.

Mark my words-- from now on, you're going to receive

the same third-rate, violence-plagued,

woefully under-funded education

that is every American child's right.

(engine starting)

Don't think you've seen the last of me yet, Duckman.

(laughing and clucking)

(laughter continues)