Original subtitles

(wolf whistles)

(quacks)

DUCKMAN: Oh! Unlucky seven.

Dame fortune, she's a cruel mistress.

Let's see, this is your piece

I do believe, and you must move...

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven spaces,

which lands you smack-dab in the middle

of my rain forest logging company.

(passes gas)

...which brings the grand total you now owe me

to $164,552.17.

What the heck?

Let's round it up to an even 200.

(passing gas) What's that you say?

"I couldn't pay that back if we played a hundred games"?

Oh, my goodness, what to do, what to do?

Wait a minute! A simple "X" on the dotted line,

changing a few irrelevant clauses

in your will dealing with...

Oh, Duckman.

You weren't trying to worm your way

back into that will, were you?

Why, Bernice, I'm appalled.

Good. Because I've been given

power of attorney (grunting)

and any effective plan to do so would have to begin

with my sudden and untimely death.

(both laughing)

Mm-hmm.

Where did I put that flak jacket?

You want to see our project (water sloshing)

for the corporate theme science fair?

Tar Master cigarettes, Vein Burster beer

and Splatco handguns are sponsoring a category

called "Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms:

Other Things Kill People, Too."

Hence, the Titanic.

1,503 non-smoking, non-drinking,

non-gunshot deaths.

I thought this kind of bloodsucking corporate greed

and hypocrisy makes you boys sick.

True, but there's a cash prize.

Hmm.

I'm going.

Maybe I should get a sitter, and you can come with me.

What? You're inviting me to have an evening out

at the movies with you and your friends?

No, I'm inviting you to circle my car

around the block for two hours.

Parking's miserable at that theater.

(tires screech, horn honks) Eh, too late. They're here.

Make sure the kids eat a balanced dinner, Duckman.

Don't just order them some Fat-N-Cholesterol Soaked Pizza

then fall asleep on the couch

watching the string bikini volleyball channel,

allowing the three of them to have the run of this place,

like some masked terrorists in a Middle Eastern city.

DUCKMAN: You worry too much, Bernice! (engine revving)

(Middle Eastern music playing, Duckman snoring)

(on TV): Ooh, my serve.

Wait. I have to adjust my bikini top.

(girls giggling)

I'm just saying, the more deaths,

the better chance we have of first place.

If we call this the Lusitania instead of the Titanic,

our chances of winning are increased tenfold.

A fallacious assumption,

since the Titanic had a far greater death toll.

Lusitania! Titanic!

Lusitania!

(grunting and yelling)

(gagging)

(gasping)

Dad, Dad, wake up! Hurry!

What? Bernice back already?

No, Dad, it's mambo.

I suggest you call 911

unless you want me to spend the rest of my life

attached to a gangrenous lump of flesh.

(shrieks)

WOMAN: Hello. Female fantasy hot line.

Heh-heh. Must have hit redial by mistake.

DUCKMAN: Hello, 911?

This is going to sound really farfetched,

but somehow, the Titanic has become lodged

in my son's throat!

Don't worry, sir.

Just stay calm, and we'll save your son.

Uh... paper clips, ping-pong balls,

Quincy scripts, Pekinese dogs, RuPaul, ships.

Andrea Doria, Lollipop, Minnow, Poseidon...

Here we are-- Titanic.

Can you get ahold of some ice?

Ice. Got it. Now what?

Pour the ice into his throat, making sure

to hit the starboard bow of the hull

below the waterline.

Ice bag dead ahead!

(metallic creaking, groaning)

(relived moan)

It worked. He's okay.

911 OPERATOR: I'm so glad.

Listen, before you go, I...

I have to tell you, you have a beautiful voice.

It's... well, I sort of talk to a lot of women on the phone

but I've never heard a voice like yours.

Thank you.

Actually, you have a very nice voice yourself

and you seem to be a wonderful father.

Well... good-bye.

(dial tone)

I just talked to an angel.

(burps)

An angel, Cornfed!

One phone call, and I was swept away.

(Fluffy and Uranus giggling)

She is everything I ever hoped for in a woman!

Low standards?

I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

It was incredible, Corny,

the way she made me feel things as I listened to her.

Excuse me-- if this is gonna get sordid...

Emotions, okay?

I felt emotions, the kind I never feel anymore

and it's all because of a voice--

that sweet, willowy reed of a voice.

I want to do things with her, Corny,

fun things, exciting things.

I want to paint her living room!

I want to go to the tar pits!

I want to surf!

So, are you going to spend the rest of your life

waxing your own board, or you gonna call her back?

I tried.

Her supervisor won't give me her name.

Some lame excuse about a serial killer

who's been following 911 operators home

and chopping them into thousands of little pieces.

One more overly cautious reactionary

in a position of authority.

Exactly! I gotta find her!

I gotta figure out some way of tracking her down.

If only we knew someone who was an expert at that kind of thing.

Duckman, take a look at the sign on the door.

Did we get evicted again?

(raspy chuckling)

You're incorrigible, you big downy galoot.

I mean the sign that says "private investigator."

If you want to track her down,

why not use your detective skills?

Don't toy with me, Cornfed.

Why the hell would I want to rely on those?

Touch�.

Too bad it's against the law

to make dozens of 911 calls till you find her

if you're not actually reporting a real emergency.

Hmm. Fluffy? Uranus?

What can we do for you, Mr. Duckman?

An impersonation.

Of what?

Drowning victims.

(spluttering)

My sons fell in the pool! They're going under!

WOMAN (raspy): Okay. Stay calm.

Is there a rope you can throw 'em?

Do you have a cold? No.

Forget it! They gotta learn to swim sometime!

* Love American style *

* Truer than the red, white, and blue *

* Love American style *

* That's me and you *

* Love American style *

* Truer than the red, white, and blue *

* Love American style *

* That's me and you. *

So what if I quit.

Light it! There's nothing to lose.

My angel is lost to me.

Hi, Dad. What you doing?

Throwing my life away on a overpriced marketing phenomenon

that will leave me bedridden, tumorous

and politically incorrect.

Oh. Wish I had a hobby.

(phone ringing)

(screams)

Hello?

Yeah, he's here.

Dad, it's someone named Angela.

Angela! I don't know any Angelas.

She sounds like a rather young, angelic woman,

if her willowy reed of a voice is any indication.

(gasps) What?!

Hello!

Hello, Mr. Duckman?

This is Angela from the emergency hot line.

Angela.

I'm sorry to bother you.

I was wondering how your son was doing.

Son? I have a son?

Oh, uh... Mambo. Fine, fine.

Small bit of discomfort in the little boys' room this morning,

passing that smokestack... otherwise shipshape.

I can't thank you enough for all your help.

Well, you did most of it yourself.

You know, a lot of people

don't keep their heads in an emergency.

Oh, it was your voice-- it made me feel like...

well, like everything would be okay.

Well... the reason I called is I'm new here

and your son's was the first life I ever helped save.

I just wanted to follow up.

I never want to forget,

there are real people on the other end of the phone.

Wow.

What?

Uh, nothing, nothing.

I was just, uh... (laughing)

glancing down at my bicep.

At the risk of sounding like a...

pimple-faced schoolboy,

I was wondering...

Sorry, I'm just not very good at this.

I... I was wondering if,

well, you'd like to have dinner with me tonight.

(sirens approaching) Dinner?

You only have to buy your half.

Just think of it as a way to say thanks

for saving my son's life.

Well, you sound nice.

Okay, I'll do it.

You will?

There's a little Japanese restaurant on Third Street.

Do you know it?

Yeah, I-I-I think so.

Just down from Vic's Fleshpot and G-String Emp...

Yeah, I'll-I'll find it. I'll-I'll find it.

Shall we say, uh... half an hour?

Half an hour it is.

She said yes!

This little ducky has a date!

Oh, happy day!

Ka-loo, ka-lay!

I'm going out with Angela!

(whistling)

A-scoobie-doobie-doo... a-dooba-do... with me...

You looking for an Angela?

All my life.

(gasps)

(gulps)

(screaming)

(horn honking, tires screeching)

(crashing)

That was close.

Wait. No one could be that ugly.

Maybe I just caught a bad angle.

MAN: You've got to look beneath the surface.

That's true.

60% Of all toilet problems

occur beneath the surface of the tank.

All right! I'm going to do this.

Look past the obvious.

Have the common decency

to sit down and appreciate her for who she really is.

Are you Duckman?

I'm a sucker for ambience.

MAN: Hey, I can't see!

CHEF: We fix in minute.

Have to serve while still fresh.

(knife chopping)

MAN: Aah! You cut off my finger!

So, Angela, could I buy you a face... a drink?

Uh, white wine would be nice.

White wine. On the way.

(woman shrieks) Ouch! Sorry.

(clanging, clattering, people yelling)

Bartender, I'll have a white wine

and something to put me out of my misery

in case these lights come back on.

(glasses tinkling, liquids pouring)

Thanks.

(people screaming, glasses clattering) Oops, sorry. Sorry...

Here you go-- white wine.

Thank you.

(knife chopping) MAN: My arm!

(Angela sips, then splutters)

Excuse me.

This tastes like Drano.

Oop, that's mine.

(knife chopping)

(woman screams)

So... do I look at all like you expected?

(splutters, coughs)

Sorry, they, uh, forgot the lemon wedge.

That's the first time

someone else's drink went to my head.

(both chuckle)

(knife chopping)

WOMAN (screams): My ear! That's my ear!

You look a lot like I pictured--

someone who walks into a room and commands attention.

You, uh... you don't say.

Well, I'm the only living heir to the throne of Sweden.

I hold the world record in the mile

and I just got a medal

for taking a bullet meant for the president.

(knife chopping)

(man screams, body thuds)

Actually, that's not all true.

What part?

None of it.

I always kind of take a small truth

and then embellish it into...

well, a huge lie.

(knife chopping)

(man squawks)

I don't know why I did that.

I've never admitted that to anyone before.

Would it be forward of me to hold your hand?

Not at all.

Huh. It's a little larger than I would've expected.

My hand's over here.

Then whose hand is this?

MAN: Mine!

Throw it back, will ya?

(slapping, woman screams)

Now, where was I?

Oh,yeah, I was, uh, just about to tell you

I... I didn't know what to expect tonight

but I'm enjoying it.

You, uh, wouldn't happen to be

doing anything tomorrow night?

(knife chopping)

(man screaming)

(yells)

Hmm...

You're dating an ugly woman, aren't you?

How did you know?

I've fished out of that pond

a few times myself.

Dinners in the basement, two-fers at the planetarium,

weekends in the darkroom developing the pictures

you took in the basement and the planetarium.

I know this sounds corny, Corny,

but Angela brings out the best in me...

you know what I mean?

Not exactly, no.

Well, we've been dating for three weeks now,

and I don't belch around her.

I don't scratch hard-to-reach body crevices.

I don't tell incredibly tasteless jokes.

Except for the ones about hermaphrodites-- I love those.

I think I'm in love.

Dear Diary,

Today I heard Duckman utter the "L" word.

There is, of course, one small hitch--

She's hideous!

She's got a face that would scatter a leper colony!

You got to look at her through a box

with a little hole in it.

Come on, Duckman.

She may be a little short or a little tall,

but you can find a good feature in everyone.

Oh, yeah? Find a good feature

in this.

(muffled retch)

Nice photo finishing.

Good morning, Misters Duckman and Cornfed.

The manwiches...

Oh, my, Mr. Duckman!

What happened to you?

He's dating an ug... a woman who's facially challenged.

Shame on you, Mr. Cornfed!

All of God's creatures are beautiful.

(both screaming)

You see? Even they think so!

The woman shatters mirrors!

But there must be more to her than her looks.

Oh, sure.

She's smart, sensitive, cheerful,

thought-provoking and loaded with empathy and insight,

but how long can that stay interesting?

Duckman, you obviously have strong feelings for her.

You should face your fears.

Take her out on a real date--

dancing, romantic music, soft lights.

How soft?

They'd be on.

Forget it.

What if I came with you?

I'll rustle up a filly of my own,

and we'll prove to you

that you don't have to be ashamed to be seen with her.

Okay, Corny, you're right!

Let's do it!

(both yelling)

Yes, uh...

table for four, please.

(yells)

Well, I guess it's seat yourself.

(shrieking)

(howls)

How's this table?

(patrons yelling, screaming)

(chuckles)

Probably carpooling.

Corny, I want to dance.

The band is on a break, Trudy.

Guess we can mime.

Your partner seems nice.

I hope he likes me.

How could he not like you?

You're sweet, you're funny, you're, uh...

Did I mention sweet and funny?

D'oh!

(glass breaks)

Maybe we should dance.

(screaming)

Eww!

(gags)

ANGELA: I feel like we're all alone out here.

Yeah, me, too.

Duckman, thank you for tonight.

A rose for the lovely lady?

Or maybe a cube of sugar, huh?

Nobody insults my girlfriend!

(people gasping)

(gasps)

Wait a minute!

Where are you going?

Duckman, I've had a lot of years to get used to the fact

that I was born with "colorful features"

but you haven't.

I hate to see the look on your face

when you see the looks on everyone else's

and I think it's time I did something about it.

If it doesn't work,

you'll never have to see me again.

(sniffing)

I need an opinion. How's my...?

(coughing)

(wheezing)

(deep cough)

Cologne.

What's the occasion

for this olfactory outrage, Dad?

It so happens I have a date and she'll be here any minute.

What does she look like?

Must you be so shallow as to focus on looks?

Like society's some kind of pageant and we're all judged

on a meaningless detail like appearance.

Gargoyle. Gargoyle.

Okay, she's the bell ringer at Notre Dame.

I don't care.

She's mine and I love her, no matter what she looks like.

Truth is, I don't know what she looks like.

I haven't seen her in a week.

I called and called until she finally admitted

she was getting a complete makeover.

With a little luck,

she went from hideous to butt ugly.

(doorbell rings)

ALL: Humina-humina, how-wa.

Look, lady, whatever you're selling,

I'll take 200 of them.

I don't care what they cost!

Duckman, it's me, Angela.

Angela?!

I mean who else could it be, my love?

Come in. Come in.

This is Bernice, Charles and Merengue.

Mambo! Eh, whatever.

Dad, you said she'd be butt ugly.

Anything but ugly, son.

(laughing): Can't leave out such a key word.

It's a pleasure to finally meet all of you.

Except where's Ajax?

When he heard his father had a date, he ran up to his room.

He's a bit sensitive

about replacing his mother since she died.

Mama!

He seems to be coming around.

How about you, Duckman, what do you think?

It isn't much.

All they did was give me a hair weave, a dye job,

contacts, change my wardrobe, sand my face down,

buff it out and plaster it over with 15 gallons of foundation.

Ha! And here I thought it was the new shoes.

Come on, Angela, I'll get you a drink,

and we can talk about that childhood incident

that left you so traumatized

you think Duckman's a catch.

(raucous laughter and snorting)

I did it! I finally did it!

I've found someone who's got it all,

who I can really fall for,

and who actually wants to be with me!

Good thing, too.

Any other woman with those looks and that charm

would drop you in a heartbeat

for someone smarter, better-looking

and more successful.

(whistling)

Holy guacamole.

Nice to see you again, Cornfed.

Angela?

You betcha.

I finally found a woman I could love and respect.

Look, her eyes point in the same direction.

Oh, hi, Mr. Duckman.

We're sorry about our superficial reaction

to Angela's picture last...

Ohh! Ohh!

(gasps)

Get off her, you neutered muppheads!

Oh, Duckman, they're so cute.

URANUS: And we're not really neutered.

Yike!

(giggling) Quit your groveling.

You got real work to do.

I need you to mail Angela's picture

to all the girls who wouldn't date me in high school.

You're funny, Duckman.

And generous, too.

I got you a gifty-poo.

Duckman, I love it.

And not cheap either. It's real 50/50.

Put it on, and I'll wear mine.

(low, raspy): Yeah.

Ooh.

Ow, baby!

(wolf whistling, whooping)

Ow-wow-ow-wow-ooh!

It's okay.

You have to expect that sort of thing

from construction workers.

Ow, baby!

Ow-wow-ow-wow-ooh!

Ooh-ya-ya-ow!

Down! Ooh! Down!

She's the one.

Angela! Angela! Angela!

(heavy sigh)

Table for two.

Daah!

ANGELA: Let's sit at the same table.

I want tonight to feel just like our first night here did.

We'll dance,

and we'll feel alone again, just you and me.

It's Angela, our woman of the hour.

CROWD (chanting): Angela! Angela!

Welcome to your very own night, Angela,

where hundreds of people you've never met

and couldn't care less about

have gathered to tell you they love you.

So, let's sit you down

and let the fawning begin.

Angela! Angela! Angela!

There you are.

I've been looking everywhere for you.

I was hoping we could dance

the last dance together.

Yeah, well, I came out here to think about things--

you and me.

And I'm thinking maybe tonight was our last dance.

What?

You've got plenty of people

who can give you more than I can now.

The simple truth is I'm not good enough for you anymore.

I can't compete with the whole rest of the world.

It's only a matter of time

before you find something better and leave me,

so why don't save us both the wait and say good-bye now.

Duckman, you're wrong.

None of these other people mean a thing to me.

I did what I did because of you--

because I was falling in love with you.

I'm not going to leave you.

Maybe this isn't the time.

Can we meet tomorrow night?

You'll feel better then.

Maybe at the Japanese restaurant

where we first saw each other?

I'll be there at 8:00.

BERNICE: Duckman, it's 10:00.

Weren't you going to meet Angela at 8:00?

I changed my mind. I'm not going.

What did you do to her?

Nothing. I did something for her.

She's got a chance at a new life.

She shouldn't settle for me.

I wouldn't let her live.

I'd spend the rest of our lives holding her back

'cause I was afraid of losing her.

I'm sorry, Duckman.

(ringing)

Let it ring.

(ringing)

(ringing)

(ringing)