All language subtitles for Duckman - 3x07 - Apocalypse Not-ing

(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slightly out of date.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.