Original subtitles

(whistles)

(crowd screaming)

(silence)

(screaming resumes)

(horns honking)

(thundering footsteps)

(hissing)

What sort of hideous

physics-defying behemoth is this?

Duckman!

Bernice.

What an amazing coincidence that you wander by

just as I'm saving the city from this blow-up doll

that somebody accidentally left connected

to the air pump in his bedroom

while he was busy swiping batteries from his family's

smoke detectors to use inside a camcorder.

(dubbed over Japanese): The monster will destroy us all! It is big!

But the doll, she is my friend.

You are mad! We must kill the monster!

Nooooooooooo!

(air escaping)

Tova, you've come back to me!

(sputtering hiss)

You blind ignorant fools!

Why must man always destroy what he loves?

Can't you see?

She was good. She was giving.

She was self-sanitizing.

When will we learn? When will we learn?

When... will... we... learn?!

Shut up, you tufted turd!

That happened three days ago.

Denizens!

Since our reactions to the inflate-a-mate incident

were more destructive than the monster itself--

and because of my own craven need

to carve political gain from any tragedy that presents itself--

I, as your mayor, have called this city meeting

to review our preparedness plan in case of another disaster.

Disaster?!

There's another disaster?

We're all going to die!

(screaming)

There's no disaster.

Geez, I didn't expect

such a tidal wave of reaction.

Tidal wave!

Oh, my God, there's a tsunami!

Tie me to something!

There's no tidal wave either!

Sit down!

Now, a brief review of our current emergency plans

shows they may be slightly out of date.

So, in order to update and help us prepare for our next--

and, in this city, inevitable-- crisis,

I've just appointed one of our leading citizens

to be our civil preparedness coordinator.

Bernice, come on down!

(crowd applauding)

Well, your aunt holding court is where I tune out,

so excuse me while I kiss the sky.

(humming)

BERNICE: Listen up!

Tomorrow, we're having a disaster preparedness drill.

At noon, everyone in this city

is to report to the underground abandoned biosphere,

closed two years ago when the government discovered

it was just a bunch of guys in lab coats having sex.

We'll remain there a short while

until the drill monitors in Washington

give us the signal to come out.

Is that clear?

* Every Giorgio and his Armani... *

Hey, a Q-Tip.

And one end's almost clean.

Duckman, don't forget

today's the day of the dis...

(metallic scraping)

D.J.: That was a little treat from Duets Seven

featuring Frank Sinatra and William Shatner.

A quick reminder,

today is the day of the disast...

(tires squeal)

Step lively, Pops!

The walker's made for walking.

Last thing I need's another hood ornament.

Top o' the mornin', my porcine partner in swine.

Usual full day of work ahead?

Actually, no.

As every man, woman and domesticated animal

in this city already knows, we only work a half day today

before partaking in the disaster readiness...

I know you're saying something, 'cause I see your lips moving,

but I haven't heard a word since "half day"!

Baruch hadah hashem.

Duckman, this isn't one of those holidays

where you have to pretend to be Jewish.

This is the day of the disaster readiness...

Great. Then time's a-wastin', Seafed.

"Half day" means I blow out of here at lunch.

But you always blow out of here at lunch.

You're right. I do.

So today isn't really special after all

unless I leave right now.

Take it sleazy, Corn Chex.

Anybody needs me, I'll be giving a much-needed boost

to one of our fine local business establishments.

Rubber hoses.

Spanish flies.

Chafe-free palm oil...

Excuse me. My, uh, girlfriend and I

are celebrating our third anniversary next week.

The third anniversary commemorated, of course,

by the giving of leather.

And since you two have the same magnificent shapeliness,

I was wondering if you could try these on?

Just strike a few poses.

I'll be in a dark corner where you can't see me.

What are you doing here?

Don't you know it's time for the drill?

The drill?

I've read about that in specialty magazines,

but I've never actually tried it.

Ohh! Here's a favorite.

This love slave's ready for flogging!

I prefer a half-inch reed, medium firm.

(siren wailing)

(crashing)

(Duckman yelling)

(glass breaking)

(loud clattering)

(siren wailing)

(passing gas)

Single file.

Single file.

Single fi... oh, sorry.

I wonder where Dad is.

Don't worry. He'd never miss a chance

to be in a dark confined space

with thousands of women.

I don't know. Knowing that downy dog-doo,

he could be doing something really stupid

like stumbling around town in a bondage mask or something.

Come on!

(yelling)

Hello?

Hello?

Hello!

It's empty. Everyone is gone.

There's only one logical explanation--

a rare communicable disease has wiped out all of humanity

in the last ten minutes

and I've been spared because of an act of God.

Or because I've already had

every rare communicable disease.

I'm the last person on Earth.

Everyone I know... my family... they're all gone.

(sniffling)

Of course, the death of all other living things

does have its benefits-- shorter lines at the post office,

front row seats for most major sporting events...

(glass smashing)

and pagers!

(tires squealing)

(loud crash)

(rock and roll playing)

This isn't a biosphere, it's a sewer.

Friends, neighbors, remember why we're here.

Let's all pitch in

and stop acting like a bunch of puking little nipple-suckers

with ten pound Pampers

or I'll pull your spleens out through your noses!

Thank you.

Now any minute, the major from the Disaster Preparedness Agency

will issue the all-clear

on this special hot line.

Perhaps Mayor Gallagher will give us

a few words of inspiration.

There's a special place in hell

for those of you who brought dogs.

Next, a man you know not only

for the fabulous Rice Krispies squares he makes

for the Raise-Money-to-Wipe-Out- Wayne-County bake sale

every year, but for his songsational performances

in our annual production of Fiddler on the Roof.

Cornfed!

(applause)

Hola. Some of you might remember

that I got my psych degree

right down the street at Nicastro Community College.

Chuckle.

I see some fellow NCC alums... "Go Ringworms."

Anyway, I've been asked to talk to you

because these drills can be traumatic,

reminding us how at any moment we could hear that siren

and suddenly be faced with earth-shattering news.

The earth's shattering! Tevye said so!

We're doomed! I knew we should have built that space ark!

(screaming)

Anything else, Dr. Fear?

(whistles)

Ahem. As I was saying, despite our concerns,

we should all be mature enough

to suppress the kind of primal, destructive behavior

that comes in a time of crisis.

(cackling)

Ex-puh-ired!

Ooga-bugga, gagga-pullanga.

CORNFED: But if someone does snap, for safety's sake,

you should be able to recognize the stages he'll go through.

First is indulgence in petty revenges.

That's for revoking my license.

That's for making women expect an orgasm every damn time.

That's for sucking.

Damn you, Siskel, you've won this round,

but I'll be back.

CORNFED: But then, melancholia intrudes.

My family, my friends--

hell, my whole calling circle-- gone.

I even miss Berni... Berni... the bitch.

And he'll gravitate to a place where he feels

safe and nurtured.

WOMAN: Ooh, baby, give me a big woodcock.

I love North American game birds.

MAN: Can you handle my woodcock,

which is like a long-billed sandpiper?

I'd love to pet

the soft brown-gray plumage of a woodcock,

the actual name of a kind of bird.

Mmm, that woodcock bird feels great.

Refreshed, he becomes

more violent.

Inexorably drawn to entropy and chaos.

To quote Jeff Goldblum...

Uh, Uncle Cornfed.

People stopped listening an hour ago.

They were hotter under the collar

than a priest with deep heating rub

inside his, uh... clerical collar.

Hey, it's my first joke in eight episodes.

Lay off.

(muttering)

* Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh! *

You were all being a bunch of grumpa-lumps.

So we decided to throw a Christmas party

and make you hap-hap-happy.

We made a tree from items that were strewn about.

Mostly tinfoil, newsprint and feces.

I don't know what feces are, but they smell like crap.

We want out before the pig starts talking again.

This crowd is more excitable

than Cokie Roberts after a few drinks.

Whoo-hoo!

I've had it.

I'm calling Washington now.

No phones, explosions and we've been here for hours.

It's time somebody finds out what's going on.

We saw a movie where during a drill

terrorists took over the city.

I saw a movie where, during a drill,

terrorists took over the city.

Ajax, that's the same movie.

Actually, they're all the same movie.

That's why Hollywood films

are like visits from old friends.

Hey, Zippy, that isn't helping.

And neither is this view of Bernice.

ALL: Ew.

This is getting creepy.

And we still don't know where Dad is.

(explosion)

Though a picture is starting to form.

Wow, for someone surrounded by devastation

I am one lucky duck.

I found food, kindling and a soft seat.

Holy sh...!

I am Iron Man!

Uh-oh.

Phew. No harm done.

That's either 800 tons of raging destructive flood water

or Rush Limbaugh on rollerblades.

Will you stop with your dry little pig jokes.

Everyone thinks your butt is huge.

(gasps)

(screaming)

Gloriosky. Being trapped in a sewer

isn't everything I'd dreamed it would be.

Our only way out

is to float up to that drainage pipe.

Stay there. We'll get you out.

What are you supposed to be?

I'm Akers, the waiter, madam.

The employment agency sent me.

Why would they send a waiter

to a disaster drill in the sewer?

It's a very bad employment agency, madam.

Canap�?

Boy, I'm learning a little something about being alone.

I miss other people more than I thought I would.

The companionship, the sharing, the simple human contact.

Get away!

It's mine, mine, mine, mine!

A woman!

And she's so beautiful, serene, angelic.

I almost feel bad about staring at her knockers.

Wow. I can't believe someone

broke into the old brassiere- on-a-stick warehouse

before I did.

We may be the only ones left.

I should extend the hand of friendship,

find a way to connect.

Last woman on earth, I'm Duckman.

So, enough small talk.

Those leotards got a snap?

Oh, great. I'm the only guy on Earth she can have sex with

and she still wants me to buy her dinner.

What's the matter you a deaf-mute?

Why didn't you say so?

Your name. I have to know your name.

Let's see, uh, Amy? Emily? Grvslv?

Shot in the dark.

That was the name on my first restraining order.

Oh, gymnast, huh?

So, you must have been training so hard,

you didn't notice everyone disappear.

Okay, Grvslv, here's what's up.

Wait a minute.

She has no idea what's going on.

She's probably been wandering the city for hours,

alone and afraid.

I better break it to her easy.

Everyone's dead.

Let's loot.

(low rumbling)

Do you hear something?

It sounds like... ball bearings.

Oh. My. God.

(screaming)

There's something wrong.

The pipe's plugged up.

We won't have oxygen for long.

There must be some way out of here.

Hand grenade, hand grenade... tuxedo!

(labored breathing and wheezing)

You know, lack of oxygen to the brain

can sometimes cause a reversal of the usual thinking patterns.

Hey, Bernice, is that your rear end

or did a couple of Galapagos turtles

die in your pants?

(growls)

(laughing)

Look, the pipe's been blown open.

There's something outside.

Incredible. It looks like some kind of lost city.

There's a temple dedicated to the arts.

And another honoring the poor and needy.

It appears to be the charred remains

of a civilization made up entirely of democrats.

Well, go ahead, Grvslv.

Anything on the menu.

Granted, all the fresh food

is rotting and covered with maggots,

but on the bright side, we don't have to tip.

You know, uh, Grvslv, it's always been a dream of mine

to meet a woman who could bend over backwards

and lick her heels but can't yell for help.

(screaming)

There's someone out there.

There's only one logical explanation--

space mutants!

Dr. Geller, how are you readings?

Normal. I don't understand it.

When we lost contact with the city,

I feared the worst, but what hideous, mindless force

could have caused such death and destruction?

No lights! They can see us.

Flaming kneepads.

What next?

Canap�?

Well, if there's anything I can do for you...

Wait a minute. Someone has to go through that door

and see if it's safe.

Akers?

If there's anything else I can do for you.

It's our only chance, Akers.

Come on, be a man.

Oh, no. You just want me to go because I'm expendable.

You're the regulars.

I'm the guest star.

I'll die, and you'll instantly forget me.

That's ridiculous.

Here, let me help you.

(screaming)

I'm afraid the fire has killed, uh...

What was his name?

I'm not sure.

I forget.

Never mind. Not important.

You stay here, Grvslv.

I'm going to go reason with them.

Oh, no! Bullets bounce right off them.

We better run for it.

Actually, you run, I'll take the car.

You know, like a decoy.

Oh, never mind.

Let's go.

Ah! My ankle!

Ah! My other ankle!

Ah! My thigh!

What are you doing?

Oh, no! They hear our language

and learn it instantly!

No! Don't eat me! Eat her!

Once you've had gymnast, you'll never go back.

You can't hear, right?

(yelling)

Bernice!

Thank God you've come!

I'm about to be eaten by space zombies!

There's nothing for us here.

Let's head back to the sewer.

You idiot, we're scientists.

Oh. Heh-heh-heh. Well, I knew that.

Obviously, a space mutant

would have to be some kind of a scientist.

What's going on here?

It was a drill.

The whole city took refuge

in an underground shelter

and somehow, something happened

to trap us under the earth

and destroy the city.

Hey, if you think I had anything to do with this...

Duckman did this to our city!

Let's get him!

(clamoring)

Wait. This isn't Duckman's fault.

I don't mean that literally, of course.

It's absolutely his fault

and he should be severely punished,

but none of us has anything to be proud of

after the way we acted in that shelter.

In a sense, we were no better than Duckman.

Again, I'm speaking figuratively.

We were a lot better than Duckman,

but the point is...

Aw, hell, I can't even convince myself.

Let's get him.

(screaming)

(siren wailing)

(explosions)

(people screaming)

(glass breaking)

(gunfire)

(explosions)

(people screaming)

(explosions)

(people screaming)

(siren wailing)

CORNFED: Oh. My. God.