Original subtitles

(quacks)

( car horns honking )

Talk about an outrage!

The FBI Raided that business I invested in.

You know, I wish they'd publish some kind of guideline--

"This is baby selling. This is not baby selling."

Did I get any messages?

Not including collection agencies,

paternity suits and death threats.

One-- Ajax's English teacher wants to meet

with you at school this morning.

English now! ( sighs )

We were so hoping that was a language

he could learn by the end of the year.

Ajax, Ajax, Ajax!

Is there something I could be doing differently?

Well, for one thing, that's not Ajax.

That's a picture of Clu Gulager that came with the frame.

Yeah, well, yeah, of course it is

Mr. Pay-Attention- To-Every-Little-Detail.

But as soon as I get a picture of Ajax,

this is the frame it's going in.

The point is, kids are nothing but heartache.

You feed them, you change their diapers,

you play airplane to get them to eat.

Eat your vegetables or I push!

But where's the payoff?

It wears on you, Corny, having to drag my butt

down to that school week after week

to hear the same old speech:

"Blah, blah, blah, underachiever,

"Blah, blah, blah, unfit parent.

Blah, blah, blah, ward of the state."

Look on the bright side, Duckman.

Maybe it'd lead to one of those special moments

where you discover that no other joy in life

can possibly match that of being a proud parent.

Sorry. I couldn't resist.

( automatic weapon firing )

Huh, seems a little quieter than usual.

Bernice said they were trying to reach out to the kids.

It must be working.

STUDENTS: "And by the fruit stand, melonsfull,

The favorite ladies pull and pull..."

Dad!

Aha. You must be Mr. Duckman.

I am Daniel O'Captain.

I thought this was English.

Shouldn't you be conjugating nouns or something?

Needless shackles, Mr. Duckman.

One grows tired of being strapped to a harness

or being bound and gagged,

of having his feet nailed to the ground.

But enough about my weekend.

You're here to talk about Ajax.

That's right. Just tell me what he did.

I'll sign a form promising if he ever does it again,

I'll sign another form. No, no, no.

The fact is, I encourage each of my students

to express his or her individuality

to find his or her own voice

by composing original poetry,

and I think you should hear what Ajax wrote.

Carpe diem, Ajax.

DUCKMAN: Whoa, son! Don't jump!

Carpe down-'em, Ajax!

No, no, no, it's all right, Mr. Duckman.

He's not going to jump.

I insist the kids do that in order

to look at things in new ways,

to see things from a new perspective.

Oh, I see. What a fascinating method.

( cuckooing )

Too many teachers are content

to have the class simply read

and memorize the words of dead poets.

I like to go further than that.

I like to find out where those poets are buried

and dig them up and undress them and...

I know, I know it's wrong,

but they don't have a 12-step program for that kind of problem.

Go on, Ajax.

( inhales deeply )

"Pizza walkers speeding with eyes

"That don't look good in T-shirts,

Caught between butterscotch and Sunday."

Okay, son, turn off the meter.

Teach, could we step outside for a minute?

You like a little t�te-�-t�te?

Uh, no, thanks, I'm straight.

I just hope you realize the position I'm in.

If you get mad at a friend, you don't call him for a while.

An employee messes up, you can him.

A girlfriend leaves you for another woman,

you ask if you can watch.

But a son? I mean when your own flesh and blood

turns out to have the I.Q. of a weed whacker,

there's only one thing a father can do.

Blame the mother, who in this case,

is dead and can't defend herself.

There's no need to blame anyone, Mr. Duckman.

I like your son's poetry.

It's fresh. It's original. It's creative.

The truth is, Ajax is a savant.

Look, that's about enough with the name-calling,

mon crappy-tan!

Being a savant is a good thing, Mr. Duckman.

Ajax has a muse inside of him straining to escape,

and he's going to let it tonight.

It's open mike night at a public poetry reading spot.

I know he'd love it if you'd come.

Son, just stand tall, be yourself and remember,

no matter what happens in there,

we're very proud of you.

What I don't know from poetry,

I know from potatoes, and these are cold.

That's not potatoes.

What?

That's not potatoes!

That's butter!

Tastes like potatoes.

What does?

What does what?

Waiter, I'd like a little more fresca.

I'm not the waiter!

What's the matter? You too good?

You better than me, you murdering Nazi?!

Sophie, give me a gun.

What gun?

I got a purse full of depends.

Ah!

Oop!

Unless Ajax's poems

are about blood clots and sensible shoes

I think we're about to be publicly embarrassed.

MAN: Ladies and gentlemen,

your host for Kolchnik's Beat Poetry Night,

Shecky Borscht.

( toilet flushing )

Thanks for that underwhelming reception.

I know you're afraid to clap; it throws off your pacemakers.

Wake up, folks.

I laughed when you came in with the funny clothes.

Well, welcome to Poetry Night at Kolchnik's.

Kolchnik, by the way, is Polish

for "health code violation." ( chuckles )

I'm dying here.

My favorite poet, Nipsy Russell, can't be here tonight.

He has a cross burning on his lawn.

In Bel-Air, they schedule it in advance

so you can get a sitter for your money.

Two, three...

Wow. Still pushing the envelope.

Look, everyone, I don't care how embarrassing

this turns out to be, this is an important night for Ajax.

He's getting a chance to learn the value of being content

with never achieving anything.

Here we go, our first victim, uh, da... p-p...

...poet. Now let's make him feel at home, shall we?

Maybe he'll pull out his Longfellow.

But, seriously, ladies and germs...

Ajax.

( toilet flushing )

( lively chatter )

( clearing throat )

( chattering stops )

( chattering resumes, Ajax breathes deeply )

"Walking up the slide and sliding down,

"Choco-free and vanilla latte for sandman exercise.

"What lasagna?

"That lasagna.

"Ever searching free to midland,

"Are you sure what socks are saying

"Magic soaked in endless enzyme com-bot?

Painted."

( chattering stops )

( patrons applauding and cheering )

( conversations buzzing )

DUCKMAN: Hey, LeBeau, we've been here for two hours.

That's my son in there!

Like, I don't care if that's you in there,

and we're all molecules on your fingertips.

And instead of cars,

we drive around in little motorized molecule cars.

And instead of... Maynard, come back to us.

Ajax has become the biggest thing in the beatnik crowd

since armpit hair on women.

And until you find us a table,

I'm going to stand right here...

Aah! Ohh!

Or I could lie down...

over here.

Ohh!

( women giggling )

Put the marketing figures with the research figures

and the ad figures with the accounting figures.

Then give me the figures on how much time you think it took to crunch those figures.

BERNICE: Hey!

We were here first!

Maybe next show

when you've cleared the fog from your consciousness.

I'll tell you what's fogging my consciousness.

I have been cooling my fogging heels

for two fogging hours,

looking at your stupid fogging face

and soaking up your snobby fogging attitude.

Now, if you don't find us a fogging place to sit,

I am going to rip out your fogging spleen

and shove it down your fogging throat!

So move your fogging butt

and fogging get us a fogging table right fogging now!

( gulps )

Uh, this way, please.

Whew!

And don't you forget it.

( lively chatter )

Greetings, fellow stanzaniac.

( sustained yelling ) ( saxophone playing )

( yelling stops ) ( music stops )

( smatter of applause )

That was Claypool and Rufus

doing "Saxophone and Some Screaming #6."

And now, cats and kittens,

here at last to expand your gray matter

is that young talent you all came to hear.

Smack them together and make this a Digable Planet

for Ajax.

( light applause and cheers )

"Lob, bedside, bright, careful.

"Closing closet, clothing shoehorn.

"Salad dropping,

"Topping, alive...

"Seven, seven, slowly sifting careful.

"Polish Papa did

"Drift, drift.

"Dancing ice in enameled chowder

Did."

( wild applause and cheers )

Whoo-hoo!

( grunts )

Go, baby, go.

What can I say?

I'm a sucker for love poems.

Love poem?

It didn't even have the word "wept" in it.

Duckman, Daddy-O, you have ears but cannot hear.

Actually, you don't have ears.

He's coming back on.

No, wait, this is really creepy.

How do you hear? What holds your glasses on?

Never mind about the ears.

Really. I've never seen that before.

Hey, guys, you ever seen anyone without ears before?

( crowd murmuring ) Those are weird.

( Duckman mumbling )

Ooh!

Beautiful poetry, huh?

Really stirs you up inside.

Ajax's father, right?

Let's interface.

You! You line-cutting, limo-lounging litter box!

I'm going to rearrange your interface! I'll...

I'm going to make you rich.

...teach you to consider me a friend.

Nay, as more than a friend--

a slave.

Yes, and he is my son.

Light of my life, fire of my loins.

Sprout of my mighty tree.

Stop drooling on my Bally's.

Barry Brittle, creative V.P., Watermark Greeting Cards,

a wholly owned subsidiary of Mega-Gel Chemical Death Corp.

Name's Duckman. Duckman with a "D",

as in de-lighted to make your acquaintance.

What say we get to know each other

at my favorite watering hole, Melons Mania?

Tonight's Grab Two for the Price of One Night.

Not interested. I'm gay.

Well, in that case, we can have

a few umbrella drinks at the Fern Bar.

Down, Duck.

I don't practice homosexuality.

I just use the gay label as an accessory.

Studies indicate it makes me

demographically attractive to my employers,

putting me first in line for any affirmative action promotions.

My first ten years at the company, I was black.

I sense your ability to concentrate is limited,

so let's bottom-line this.

I think your son's poetry would make great greeting cards.

Sure, if you celebrate mumbo-jumbo day.

Oops. Was that out loud?

I've got a long-term contract here.

I had it put on big cartoony scroll paper

with an outlandishly large gold seal because research shows

simple minds are impressed with this sort of thing.

It worked! I'll sign.

Shrewd negotiator.

Call me tomorrow,

and we'll put that young genius of yours to work.

Yippie! Yee-ha! Wa-hoo!

We're going to be rich, rich, rich!

Flushola! Nipple-deep in greenbacks!

And, of-of course, Ajax gets to express his deepest feelings

through his art to an eager world.

BARRY ( laughing ): Boy wonder, welcome aboard.

Love your work. Marvelous stuff.

Unique, piercing, insightful.

You bring something special to Watermark.

In a nutshell, you bring you.

And here's some research

to help you mold the you that you bring.

Research?

Good, good. The ability to mindlessly repeat

a superior's key words is a must.

This graph shows that 98.9% of all households have toasters,

so try to work a toaster into your poems.

A toaster?

Exactly People like to read

about things they know, things they can identify with.

No one likes to read

about places they've never been

things they've never seen.

What about The Wizard of Oz?

I don't know what he likes to read.

( chuckling ) Now, seriously, you don't read movies.

Stay with me, bubbie.

The chart tells us that the two items

most often purchased by people

are the toothbrush and the comb.

Try to work a few of them in, too.

Oh, yeah, and make 'em rhyme.

Research shows people get nervous if a poem doesn't rhyme.

But you said you like my poems.

Why do you want me to change them?

Change? Please.

A haircut, a nip, a tweak, a tuck.

Remember, we want you to do what you do.

We just want you to do it

in a completely different way.

DUCKMAN: Yippie-yi-ki-yay!

And all because my son's churning out art for the masses.

It worries me, Duckman.

Ajax could fall victim to that all-too-common phenomenon

whereby something truly original is bastardized and homogenized

in a coldly, calculated attempt to find appeal among the masses,

thus snuffing out any spark of creativity,

leaving the artist frustrated and the public deprived.

Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. You raised some valid points, Corny.

( cuckooing )

But I know my son,

and I'm sure he's thrilled with the job.

Machine's hungry, kid. Got any fresh meat?

"Toaster, toothbrush, comb, I just want to go home."

Perfect. Hits all the bases.

You like it?

How should I know?

I'm the only one who's read it.

We'll send it to R&D.

They'll sample it, we'll get the test results back.

Then I'll tell you how it made me feel.

Mr. Brittle, I appreciate everything you've done for me,

but my poems don't feel like me anymore.

I have to quit.

( laughing )

Quit? You can't quit. You're irreplaceable.

But that doesn't mean you can't be replaced.

I made you. I own you.

Before I came along,

you were just another kid named after a cleanser.

And more important, I own your family.

Your father signed a contract, and if you try to break it,

we'll take his home, his car, his business

and all the pretty things he's bought with your money.

We'll put your family in the street.

You'd do that? But why?

What do you need me for?

You could do this.

Probably. Anyone can write.

Unfortunately, I have proxiglossoriasis-- a rare disease

where occasionally instead of the word I mean to say,

I'd say the next word in the dictionary.

Now you keep writing,

or you and your whole family

are going to be in big, big trough.

I can't get my family

in big, big trough.

( yelling )

( burps )

Phew! ( sighs )

Got to stop those late-night butter brickle knishes.

Maybe a bromo and a falafel would help.

( kissing )

"Warm hugs straightened my ear muffs

And got me through metal detector mornings."

Ajax. Son.

Are you okay?

I was just wondering--

is what I'm doing making you and the family happy?

Are you kidding? Thanks to you and your poetry,

we got more stuff now than we could shake a spear at.

( sighing )

Huh. Something is wrong, isn't it, son?

Is it the job?

Isn't it everything you wanted it to be?

Well, no.

No? Why didn't you tell me sooner?

I'm your dad. I want to know these things so I can fix them.

You can fix this?

Of course I can.

It's no good if you're not happy.

Thanks, Dad.

I should have known you'd help me.

Don't give it another thought, son.

I know exactly what needs to be done.

First thing tomorrow,

I'm going to march into Barry's office

and demand that he does the right thing.

Trust me.

The boy isn't getting what he wants out of this job.

And as his father,

I've come down here to tell you

there's only one thing to do--

put a big jar of M&Ms on his desk-- just green ones--

some PEZ dispensers-- assorted characters-- and some pickup sticks.

I don't think so.

Okay. Forget the pickup sticks.

That was for me.

Barry, baby, the kid's not happy,

and when he's not happy, take it from his pappy,

the poems get crappy.

Hey, not bad.

No wonder the kid's such a natural.

Listen... Duck-a-Tollah,

getting what you want from a job is a quaint notion,

but he has to understand the artistic benefits

of research and development.

Perhaps if you saw what I'm talking about.

Um, would you turn around?

New sphincter-scan security device. ( unzips pants )

( moans ) You can turn back now.

Hey, Bar', pretty sweet.

Your own hard- to-get-to rec room

for watching those special-order videos

without kids walking in and catching you with your...

Quiet! Have you no sense of awe?

This is it, where all is answered

where the divine becomes real.

Down here, you whisper.

( gulps )

In this room, we gather, collate and track

all the research data.

And over here, the object of our most devout worship--

a focus group, made up of ordinary consumers.

( slurping )

( playing random notes )

Interesting cross-section.

No wonder your products are so good.

Isn't it beautiful?

They're testing our new line

of short-attention-span greeting cards.

Mm-hmm.

And these monitors are hooked up to major trailer parks

around the country.

What better place to learn what America wants?

( yawning ): Uh-huh.

Oops. Sorry.

( beeping )

( electrical crackling )

( yelling )

( explosions )

No! What have you done?

Our life blood stopped pumping.

( electrical frizzing ) Wow. Me and supercomputers, huh?

What am I gonna do?

If we don't move ahead with this project today,

it'll never make the shelves

in time for all those fabricated special occasions

we managed to establish as cultural doctrine!

Then approve the project.

You like it, right?

Then it's simple.

Just trust the artist to have the talent

and emotional connection with the audience

you must've thought he had when you hired him.

Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.

I really value your input...

( cuckooing )

But I think I'll consult... the book.

Hmm... making decisions, making decisions... aha!

"Rule number one:

"When in doubt, say no, because if it fails--

and remember, it always could-- it'll be your butt."

I'll do it.

I'll hew to the most noble tradition

in American corporate life.

I vow from this moment on,

not to say yes to anything new or original ever again,

meaning this possibly

fresh and imaginative project is...

histrionic.

Proxiglossoriasis, huh?

Well, that's behind us, let's get back

to the important stuff-- my son, Ajax.

It's his project that I cancel, Huh?

and he's gone with it.

( yelling )

( Duckman panting )

Hey, I'm getting better at tucking and rolling

when I'm thrown out of buildings.

How will I tell Ajax I got him fired?

Ajax, I... I got something to tell you

about what happened today.

Dad, before you say anything, I want to thank you.

You said you'd get me out of that job, and you did.

I did?

I-I-I mean, right, right, right.

Of course I did. Like I was saying,

I'm sorry I didn't lay down the law

with that double-breasted dimwit earlier.

You're the best dad in the world.

Thanks, son.

I guess it proves

there's only one thing in life that's really important.

What's that, dad?

I have no idea, son.

No idea at all.

Maybe we could ask a focus group.

( both laughing )

"Warm hugs straightened my ear muffs

"And got me through metal detector mornings,

"And if never to be seen again,

You're in my air."

Ah! That's beautiful.

( birds twittering )