Original subtitles

(static crackles)

And in conclusion,

since we live in an insane world,

maybe it's time we give insane solutions a chance.

I'm Duckman, and that's one duck's view.

Uh, ye-yes...

Well, please remember that the views of Duckman

in no way reflect the views of, uh... anyone.

Huh? Huh? Pretty good, huh?

I think I got my message across.

That you're a broccoli- brained mulch monkey?

Yeah, I think that read.

I never actually heard

someone encourage kids to drop out of school.

Test scores drop every year.

Let's face it, American kids are stupid.

Get them off the fast track

and on the fast-food track

while we genetically engineer a master race of better kids.

I'm tempted to die

just so I can get a head start

on spinning in my grave.

Okay, go ahead, eat my kishkas out.

When public reaction crystallizes,

my words will be remembered as... Ahem.

Public reaction is already starting

to crystallize around your car.

(mob banging on car)

(smashing windows)

Looks like a vexed populi.

Well, no problem.

When we're ready, Ajax will distract them

with one of his famous fake epileptic seizures.

Duckman, those aren't fake.

Semantics.

Anyway, Ajax, if I know the average Joe

while you're doing the locomotion,

they'll steal your wallet and shoes,

letting us escape.

What do you say, son?

I'll go find a strobe light.

Duckman, don't you think it's odd

that the station would write to you

out of the clear blue sky

and ask you to do a commentary?

Not at all. I'm a well-known local businessman,

a leader in my community,

and I write over 600 crank letters a year

to the local paper.

Yes. My favorites were

"English-only laws: Let's make them international"

And "Cub Scouts: The enemy within."

Yeah, but the classic was

"African American-- black or negro,

they'll never make another Sammy."

(sobbing)

Ajax, why are you crying?

Because my lacrimal ducts are full,

but we can talk about that later.

I just saw something sad in the lobby.

This homeless guy, he had lost his beloved dog Sparkle,

and someone had told him Sparkle was here,

but it wasn't true.

He was so disappointed.

Huh, of course he was.

With these bums, today's pet is tomorrow's brisket.

Hey, it ain't my fault

this gutter geezer lacks a shack.

"Oh, I'm homeless. Help me."

Huh! These dumpster-dwelling ragbags better learn

there's no such thing as a free lunch.

No one just gives a bum free room and board for life.

Unless the bum marries my sister

and I'm fresh out of those.

What about your... other sister?

Oh, right. Dorothy's house landed on her.

Look, there he is.

DUCKMAN: Oh, no! It can't be!

I know him.

Uh... I mean, he's a...

total stranger.

De-Definitely not someone

Corny and I knew in high school.

CORNY: From high school?

Let me see.

Gone now. Wasn't him. Never mind.

And even if it was, I wouldn't remember him...

or what happened.

Ow!

Talk about a bummer.

Okay, Legionnaires' disease. Get it?

(guffawing)

Corny, you are chico and the man.

Anyway, Dinkler's on the war path.

He's been looking for me.

Lucky for me, he didn't look in

Hassim's Cut-Rate Candy and Pong Parlor

where I was blowing all my grit money on candy cigarettes.

(gulping)

(burping)

Perrier?! They sell water?!

It's crazy. Ow!

I can't believe all these stupid products they're trying--

light beer, low tar cigarettes, personal computers--

while my letters telling Coca-Cola

to change its formula go unanswered.

What about you? Anything happening?

Dinkler?!

He was here?!

Twice. The second time

the veins in his neck were all bulgy.

What's his problem? What did I do?

Well, you sutured Mr. Krump's lips,

smeared liquid heat in the pep squad's muffs,

painted "Blue Oyster Cult Rules"

on Coach Marcus's car,

and thanks to you,

Miss Finch went to live

with the nuns for a while.

Ha, yesterday...

but what did I do today?

Oh, Brad's looking for you, too.

You know, he really likes you.

What are you saying, that he's junior minty?

A pile driver? He flies the red-eye?

He likes the center square to block?

No. He looks up to you, that's all.

Brad sees you as a role model.

Though for what role, I don't know.

Huh. Seems the kid's got more snap

in his cap than I realized.

I should take him under my hai karate-soaked wing

and let him drink deeply of the stagnant waters

of my 16-year-old pool of experience.

And speaking of pools,

it's time for the girls' swim team practice.

(chuckles)

* I found my thrill *

* Boob, je-boo *

* Boob, je-boo *

* On Blueberry Hill... *

I'll become his partner

the day the U.S. gives back the Panama Canal.

(groans)

(woman and Duckman moaning passionately)

WOMAN: Oh, Duckman...

DUCKMAN: Oh!

WOMAN: Mmm...

DUCKMAN: Oh, mama!

(on tape): Hum-mana, hum-mana, howwy, hum-mama...

Oh, sorry, Duckman.

Color me snoopy, but what were you doing?

Listening to a tape I recorded of a romantic night

with a special lady now living with the nuns.

Enjoying magnetic memories of a night

when desire's aroma mingled intoxicated

and left us spent but grateful,

entwined on wings of light.

Gee, I thought you were masturbating.

(drumbeat) Oh, sorry,

they're delivering the new drums

for the marching band.

Hey, be careful!

Duckman is trying to masturbate up here!

He can't concentrate with all this ruckus.

Uh, Brad, I really wasn't...

I suppose now he'll probably have to start all over again.

Happy?

Brad, it's not necessary, really.

Oh.

BRAD: Never mind. He's done.

I took care of it, D.M.

Thanks, but I wasn't masturbating, I swear.

I was just oiling my mitt,

and I mean that non-euphemistically.

I believe something as beautiful as masturbation

should wait till you find

someone you love enough to marry,

and then when she never lets you touch her again,

that's when sex for one becomes so magical.

And I think that's worth waiting for.

Wow. Will I ever find someone who loves me enough

to never let me touch her again?

Oh, you will.

And when you find her, you'll be together forever--

like Sally and Burt, Cher and Greg,

Rod and Britt, Claudine and Spider--

for always.

BRAD: Mr. Dinkler...

I... we... I...

Shut up, Gilliland.

Duckman, is that the school's

quadraphonic tape deck?

Uh... yes, sir.

I, uh, commalrated the filamomer levels

against the chegemission specs.

I know what you were listening to.

That air vent leads right to my office.

It was disgusting smut!

Anyway, today, I'm being photographed

for the Santa Rosita Star Sunday supplement.

Now, I'm not pointing any fingers,

but if you disrupt this,

I will not only expel you,

it'll go in your permanent record!

You'll be blackballed!

(screams)

It's a figure of speech, Gilliland.

Oh.

Duckman, you're worthless.

You're flushing your life away.

One more prank, and your future

is history!

(cymbals crashing)

DINKLER: Howard, get this drum equipment out of the hall!

I'm going to get that Dinkler.

I'll fix his wagon

once and for all!

Aah!

I remember now.

I got back at Dinkler in a major way,

but Brad took the rap because he liked me

and then he got expelled for it and disappeared.

That must have begun his downhill spiral

that made him end up a broken and homeless man.

I've got to confess, clear his name.

Boy, then I'd get in trouble.

Ha... okay, now I've got it.

I'll help him get back on his feet.

Help him turn things around.

I've got to help him.

Hey...

I told you, I'm not done.

Brad Gilliland? I still can't get over it.

My God, Corny, how did we let Americans sink into

this kind of poverty and misery?

Many socio-economic factors contrib...

Uh, hello!

Not real reasons.

I want a gross oversimplification,

I can slap on my car bumper

so I can delude myself into thinking that

I'm doing something.

Oh, okay. A flag-burning amendment will fix everything.

Thank you.

Are you sure Brad's here?

I checked with the TV station.

He lives in a refrigerator box--

something about it having a big "W."

A big "W."

You know, we were all surprised at how selfless

you're being with Brad.

Look, I just have a... you know, hunch

that he got a raw deal back in high school--

taking the heat for that infamous Dinkler incident.

I'll take him home, feed him, clean him up

make it up to him for what I...

think someone else did to him.

And I'll start investigating.

Of cour...

investigate?

The Dinkler incident.

If we can find out who really did it,

we can clear Brad's record.

Huh?

Uh... right, yeah.

(splashing)

This filthy pit makes you

appreciate how lucky we are

to have homes.

You remember that, boys!

Westinghouse.

This is it.

I don't know how he'll react to me--

I mean, to us--

being from his past, you know,

this may be traumatic.

Oh, my God, Duckman!

And Cornfed.

Wow, what a reunion!

Hey, come on, who remembers

the Santa Rosita High fight song?

Come on, who remembers it?

I sure don't.

But if I wrote it today, it'd go like this:

* Santa Rosita march on high *

* Honor and love *

* And milk and pie *

* Cornfed and Duckman are back so *

* Nothing I lack, 'cept Cracker Jacks *

* So don't be shy *

* Dancin' wise *

* 'Cause we're Santa Rosita High guys! *

Hi, guys.

What a day!

First Sparkle comes back, now this.

Oh, here's Sparkle.

Good dog.

Well, Sparkle, what a big doggy you are.

Yes, good dog.

You know Sparkle's not a dog, right?

(ferocious growling)

He likes you.

(gobbling noisily)

It's true.

Sewer water tastes different in every city.

Like in Phoenix, it's a mocha/lemony kind of taste.

In Portland, it's more peanutty with a, with a sewage quality.

Bernice, this soup is deee-licious!

What did you say it was called?

Uh, soy sauce.

Sounds fancy, but it's good eating.

Any left?

(exhaling loudly)

Gee, in movies,

homeless guys turn out to be piano prodigies

or great surgeons, where their homespun brand of wisdom

brings troubled families together,

but Brad's none of those.

I didn't think it was possible

to talk for an hour about sewage.

And what's in the package?

He never lets it out of his sight.

Can we go to Portland?

(doorbell rings)

Hey, Corny, I understand

if you didn't find anything

with your little investigation.

Well, you gave it your best shot.

So why don't you take a few weeks off,

maybe try Cabo or...

Actually, Duckman, I found something that can tell us

once and for all who did it.

(gasps loudly)

I mean, great.

I snuck into Dinkler's old office

and found this behind the credenza.

A faded Polaroid, no image at all,

but the date on the back matches the date of the incident.

Dinkler was having his picture taken that day

and, somehow, one of the cameras went off

photographing the perpetrator.

(background music a la Mission Impossible themeplays)

Damn, I must have missed one.

Uh... I said, "Cram unjust math piston."

Uh-huh. Are you having a stroke?

I haven't decided yet. So what now?

Silver iode methanyl will partially restore the image.

I can then use my computer to redefine the missing pixels.

It could take a while.

Well, no rush.

Take your time.

A job half done is ne'er begun. See you.

Huh? (door slams)

Okay. Got to get Brad out

of my house and on the dole,

but to impress them down at Social Services

I need the ugly Bradling to click into swan mode

and before Corny peeps that pic.

Come on, Brad, it's makeover time!

(music playing throughout montage)

How do I look?

Like a million bucks.

You'll have an apartment, a job

and staggering consumer debt

by the end of the day.

Duckman, except for Sparkle,

you're the best friend I ever had.

Other people may say

they have a heart as big as all outdoors,

but yours is actually that big.

I'm amazed it even fits in your chest

without it being freakishly large.

Enough already.

Don't you see?

I'm the reason you're...

Back on my own two feet.

Now, let's go, buddy.

We've got a future to build.

With you by my side, nothing can go wrong.

(siren wailing)

You're under arrest for the theft

of the credit card of Jos� Eber,

hairdresser to the stars.

He did it.

* Moses came to Egypt land *

* Said, "Let my people go" *

(falsetto): * Pharaoh, Pharaoh Man * DUCKMAN: Brad!

(own voice): * Then up spoke the Pharaoh Man *

Brad!

* No, damn Moses, I said, "No"... *

Brad!!

Thank you!

All right, now, look.

When the Social Services joker gets here,

let me do all the talking.

If words were cherry stems,

my tongue would be in Sherilyn Fenn's mouth.

(door slams open)

Name's Tyler Fitzgerald.

But you can call me the "Social Services joker."

I am so sorry, Mr. Fen-davin- savin-avin.

It's an enzyme thing, hard to control.

I'm Duckman, and this is Brad Gilliland.

Charmed.

I need your help.

Well, actually, my homeless friend needs it.

I just want to right an old wrong

and I'm under a lot of pressure

and there's this picture on my friend's computer...

I'm sorry, are we sharing?

Mr. Duckman, there is no reason to be nervous.

I will do everything in my power

to see that your friend is set

on the re-situation track A.S.A.P.

Okeydokey? Now, I have spoken to Mr. Eber,

the hairdresser to the stars,

and he will drop the charges

if you will arrange for his expertise,

skilled staff and international reputation

to be favorably mentioned on television.

Done! Good!

Now, let's get out of here and go see your homeless friend.

We're here!

I mean, he's here. I mean, this is him, Brad.

(laughs): This man in the Armani suit is homeless?

What kind of a scam are you running here?

Sc-scam?

Look, you just can't waltz in

with an obvious Eber feather cut

and expect mother government

to flop out her boob

and yell, "Drink up!"

Please! He really is homeless!

Hell, he's been living in a vacant lot!

Really? Well, that would be trespassing.

Oh, no, no, it's not private property.

It's under the interstate.

So, federal land equals felony trespassing!

You're going to come down

on a guy who lives in a refrigerator box?

Unauthorized storage and disposal

on federal land equals big felony

per Waste Disposal Act of 1991.

I think we've taken up enough of...

Please!

He was there 15 years before

that law was passed.

Excellent! Over 15 years of walking across that lot

to access his refrigerator box.

Mr. Gilliland created an easement.

What does that mean? No, it really doesn't matter.

Property taxes and federal land-use maintenance fees.

Oodles of them!

But he's broke!

Mr. Gilliland, you have green card?

Green card? Of course not.

Duckman, stop!

Es mi malo para usted, se�or.

Su casa nueva es la casa gigante.

Estan palabra es de un idiota! Idiota!

Usted es el idiota.

Usted es el doble idiota!

No estoy, no estoy.

Si, es. Si, es.

Nyah, nyah, nyah! Nyah, nyah, nyah!

Stop! Please! Both of you!

I didn't want trouble... I just wanted a chance.

My whole life, I've been told:

"You can't... you can't go to school anymore.

"You can't stay in town anymore.

You can't get a job without a diploma."

It was bad enough when I thought

they were talking about someone named Hugh.

But it turns out they meant me!

Everywhere my parents lived,

someone would eventually find out

about the Dinkler incident, and we'd have to move.

So I ran away from home to give them a chance to live

without the trouble.

All I had to hold on to was...

my project... my invention... my million-dollar idea.

See, sometimes, I feel like

somebody just shook the whole country

like a box they just picked up and shook hard

and the pieces that rattled out of place are the homeless.

Working on my project made me feel grounded and safe.

And all these years,

I've just wanted a chance to show it to someone

who could help me.

I'm not out to scam anyone.

So, if you think I deserve help, give it to me.

But I'd rather go back to living on the street

than to take charity.

That's all I wanted to say.

I hope it was no trouble.

Gilliland, wasn't your leisure suit a blue print?

Yeah, why?

'Cause it's green now.

(laughing): Well, sure, it's a mood suit.

And according to your suit,

you're telling the truth.

Let's get you out of here.

Thanks for springing us, Tyler.

See you next Thursday?

"Must See TV" party? Wouldn't miss It.

Oh, and Brad, good news.

I called my cousin who's filthy rich

in the rag trade, and he loves the mood suit--

digs the '70s retro feel--

and he'll give you a million dollars for it.

And a job!

Wow! Thanks!

You deserve it.

I only wish all homeless people

were as nice as you.

Then everyone would want to be homeless.

So, I guess this is good-bye, Duckman.

Thanks for everything.

This makes me sad, you know.

I know, I can see it in your suit.

Brad, before you go, I have to tell you something

and it's not easy.

You see, well...

TOGETHER: Oh...

(echoing voice): Duckman.

Duckman, Duckman, wake up.

Dinkler? Dinkler did this?

That's right, Dinkler.

Ooh-hoo-hoo! I'm dizzy.

Look, Dinkler, there's something you ought to know,

and I'm glad Brad and Corny will hear this, too.

(gulps): It was me.

I was the one who played the prank on you that day.

The one you expelled Brad for.

I snuck in here through the vent

and rigged the whole office.

It was me.

Brad, that's why I took you in.

To try to make it up to you.

I was trying to make the whole thing all go away

before Corny figured out who was in the picture.

Uh, yeah, Duckman, I have a confession to make.

The reason I wanted to investigate

the reason I set the picture enhancement on super slow.

I stalled. I wanted to make sure the truth was never discovered

because I was involved, too.

I saw you come in, and after you left,

I broke in through the vent.

After taking some coquettish snapshots of myself

I went over the office undoing every booby trap...

slacking the fish lines...

recaging the mongoose...

wetting the coals...

I knew Dinkler would expel you.

All he needed was an excuse.

I wanted to protect your future.

I guess I always knew I'd be a part of it.

But my office was booby-trapped!

I have a confession to make.

Huh?! Huh?!

I saw Duckman go in and then

I saw Cornfed go in and undo what Duckman did.

I knew why you did what you did, Corny,

but I couldn't let Dinkler get away

with the things he said to Duckman.

He called him worthless!

Nobody's worthless!

So I painstakingly redid

everything you undid.

The bear trap, the pillowcase full of snapping turtles

the Krazy Glue, everything.

Oh, I also took some playful Polaroids of myself.

It's official, I'm lost.

What it means is that Gilliland really did do it.

But I wanted you all to suffer,

so I manipulated you

pulling your strings and making you dance.

Pretty marionettes... (chuckles) dance!

(evil laughter)

Yeah, mm.

It was my television station that invited you both

and arranged for you to bump into each other.

Wait! You own that station?

Can you do something about the way they cut up

the Odd Couple reruns?

Silence!

And now, after all these years, my...

revenge!

I want you to stay in these chairs

for one hour after I leave.

Don't remove the tape, or I'll add another hour.

Do you understand?

Okay. Okay. Okay.

And remember, you're on your honor.

(door slams)

Swell, and we're all taped up.

It's cellophane tape, it peels right off.

Oh, well, peel it off.

Nuh-uh. You heard Dinkler.

I'm not peeling it off.

Corny?

And risk having to sit here another hour?

Nuh-uh.

(crickets chirping)

DINKLER: Pretty marionettes... (evil chuckle)