Original subtitles

WOMAN: Being an orphan changes you.

You're always alone.

Yet you always know, deep down,

there's someone out there that you're connected to, y'know?

Hey, I mean, I got a life, a career, plants

one of those little satellite dishes.

I'm doing fine.

But even so,

a failed marriage and some really crummy relationships

left me wanting that bond--

that sense of belonging only a family can give you.

So I hired you.

And now you tell me

I not only have a family, but I'm a triplet?

Mm! I'm walking into the lives of a bunch of strangers.

It's a very scary thing.

Here's the address in L.A.,

but, uh, there isn't much more.

Now, about my payment...

maybe we could grab some dinner

and find a way to, uh, reduce your fee.

You know, whatever fate's got in store for me

I'm glad this is the last time

I'll have to deal with a brainless, sleazy detective.

(whistles)

CHARLES: We sure are going to miss you, Aunt Bernice.

You mean Aunt "Congresswoman" Bernice.

Now, boys,

even though I'll be in Washington a lot,

I'll fly home as often as I can.

But being a congresswoman, five-hour plane flights,

taking care of us, when are you gonna sleep?

I'll do what Strom Thurmond does,

and catnap on the bathroom floor.

Ordinarily, I'd never leave you boys,

but this is a chance to do something for America--

to make a difference.

And I would never ever abandon you for too long a time

to the slimy clutches of... Duckman!

I haven't even left yet

and you've already turned Ajax

into your personal slave.

Bernice, I am...

well, "appalled" is the only word for it.

How dare you imply

that I would treat my own son like chattel.

You can expect a collect call from my attorneys.

Slave. Ha!

That will be all, Kunta.

Free at last!

Kids and their melodrama.

And since I have my own office now,

I'll be sure to take a reminder

of each of my loved ones with me--

the boys, Cornfed...

Grandma-ma...

Tony Little...

Beatrice.

Oh, this was just before

I tried to choke you with my garter, remember?

Yeah, you never forget your wedding day.

Except the part when I got faced

and starting swinging that nine iron

and broke the flower girl's nose.

Oh, Beatrice, I miss you so much.

(gasps)

Look! It's her! It's really her!

Who?

B-B... Beatrice.

What?!

Duckman, how could you desecrate my sister's memory

for a tasteless made-you-look gag?

I swear I saw her--

their mother, your sister, my wife.

There's only one logical explanation--

the dead have come back to life

and she is their leader!

I hope she doesn't eat flesh.

I'm still using mine.

Duckman, you sad sack of spoor splash.

You probably just saw my reflection in the window.

Nuh-uh! You may have been twins

but Beatrice had a lovely, angelic glow,

while you've got more of that whole, uh, "evil Satan's spawn,

Elephant Man" kind of thing going.

(horn honks)

This time that wasn't me venting my pancreas.

Your taxi is here.

Oh, my babies.

Study hard, clean your rooms,

and stay at least 20 feet from your father at all times.

I'll see you in a couple of days.

Give 'em hell, Aunt Bernice!

Good luck in Congress!

And tell Newt government has no place in my bedroom.

Sadly, the Speaker is "Mr. Bad Touch."

I can't even enjoy watching Bernice leave.

I don't care what anyone says, I saw her.

Beatrice is alive!

She's alive! She's alive!

Duckman, didn't you say the same thing

about Cleopatra and Martha Washington

and Vicki Lawrence?

But Vicki Lawrence isn't dead.

He knows, my queen.

He knows nothing.

He is a fool.

No one can stop us now.

(evil laughter)

Hey, I told you to stop doing that.

I'm telling you, Beatrice is back

and she's surprisingly spry

what, with having been dead and all.

Duckman, I know how happy she made you

but now she's gone.

I miss her so much,

I guess I made myself believe she was back.

Good-bye, Beatrice.

(stuttering, gasping)

What's wrong?

B-B-B-Beatrice!

Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-She

was right th-th-th-th...

(screams)

Beatrice!

My Beatrice!

Whoo-hoo!

Beatrice!

Baby!

(high-pitched scream)

(people murmuring)

I am so sorry-- this isn't how I wanted to meet you.

I was only trying to work up the nerve to talk to you.

Please, don't die.

Hey! You said you were his wife.

Were you lying so you could ride in the ambulance

because it's cool?

No. I am his wife, uh, eh...

Beatrice.

All right, what do we got?

Man versus bus.

Always bet on the bus.

Okay, on three: One, two, three.

D'Alonzo, you just pretended to lift.

Don't think I didn't notice.

Oh, my God!

He looks really familiar.

Oh, well.

Pupils fixed and dilated,

trauma, concussion, steatorrhea,

shock, abrasions... pressure?

I've been under a lot since the change.

Thanks for asking.

The patient!

Oh. 90/60.

Bag him. Iffy neurals

no nephritis, severe mottling

start him on Osborn clamps, Laufenberg traction,

CBC, chem seven, apply Misch compression,

watch for buildup till ortho comes,

reno peptides protocol, synovial drip,

10 cc's dioxyviolaspolin, five-p glucose,

check for Evans-Hyland syndrome and Markowitzian occlusion,

start gastric lavage and spike that decidua capsularis stat!

Is he going to be all right?

Damn it, I'm a doctor, not a fortune-teller!

Ma'am, please wait outside.

The doctor may need to start slamming his fist

on the patient's chest

and yelling, "Live, damn you, live!"

and that can be hard to watch.

Oh, I-I'm terribly sorry.

Well, hello.

I'm ecstatic to see you.

Uh... hi.

It's been, uh...

too long?

Since this morning?

I suppose that is a long time

if you're a soap bubble.

Why are you here?

Oh, my God, it's Duckman.

Dr. Ehrlich, this man is my friend and neighbor.

I'll take over.

Damn it, Ben, you're too close!

It's not supposed to be personal.

You're wrong, Craig.

It's always supposed to be personal.

As director of medical services,

I'm ordering you to step aside.

We must stem the pyloric stenosis

or risk brain damage.

Time is...

(monitor beeping)

...crucial.

(steady tone and beeping)

Uh-oh.

Paddles... stat.

And...

Clear.

(steady tone, beeping)

Again.

Will you come on already?!

Ma'am, I asked you to leave.

(flatly): Live, damn you, live.

Happy?

(steady tone, then beeping)

I knew you could do it,

you magnificent bastard.

Damn it, Ben, your methods may be unorthodox,

but you're a hell of a doctor.

I think we all learned a little something

about dedication today.

I don't like him.

No one does.

He's pompous, arrogant, egotistical...

and I wish we had a dozen just like him.

Will he be all right?

There's no telling when or if he'll regain consciousness

but we'll do everything we can.

This way to your husband's room.

Why, thank you. I...

Nurse, that's not his wife.

His wife passed away.

(gasps)

NURSE: Then she'll have to leave.

Family members only, you know.

BEN: It's all right.

She's his sister-in-law.

I'll take her.

Bernice, are you all right?

My sister's dead.

Ye-Yeah, I'm-I'm Bernice.

Uh, I mean, I-I'm... I'm all right, yeah.

Thanks.

Bernice, there's something different about you.

It's... just so hard

seeing my sweet brother-in-law so weak, so frail.

How could I live without his sweet voice,

his sunny smile, his kindness

or his shoulder to cry on?

Bernice, perhaps you should check in for a few days,

get a full workup.

Uh... no, no, no,

I'm all right, but, uh...

(coughs)

I could use a little water.

Be right back.

Oh, what have I gotten myself into?

I better leave before I screw up your life even more.

Beatrice...

(gasps)

Beatrice... you're back.

Beatrice...

Is it possible that his belief

that you're the reincarnation of his dead wife

is what's keeping him alive?

Oh, that's preposter...

Must stay alive...

Be with Beatrice.

It's all that... keeps me going.

Interesting theory.

Even this partial awakening is a very hopeful sign.

If he can stay alert through the night,

he could recover fully.

To help him, you must pretend to be Beatrice.

It may sound like a weird sitcom plot contrivance,

but it's the only way to save his life.

But I can't, I-I...

I'll arrange for you

to stay round-the-clock.

Beatrice, are you there?

Yes, uh...

yes, I-I am, uh... sweetie.

Uh, uh... "sweetie."

Never called that before.

Wh-What did I used to call you?

You know, my first name.

No one knows it but you, and no one ever will.

I hate it.

Everyone made fun of it when I was a kid.

"Eric."

Eric.

Icky Eric.

"Eric Duckman" is a nice, uh...

so, what does Bernice call you?

Uh... "tufted," "turd-toned,"

"ptomaine-tainted," "tally-tugging," but...

I know she likes me.

What makes you so sure?

Because you love me.

Too much of you in Bernice for her not to love me, too.

What do you remember most about me?

The way your hair smells when I spill beer in it.

The way you hold my head when I spew.

The way you plug your ears with your fingers

when I scream, "Shake it, baby!" at passers-by.

Ah, you never forget your honeymoon.

(chuckles)

I could... always make you laugh.

I'm very lucky to have found a... husband

who loves me as much as you do.

I love you, Beatrice.

Beatrice loves you, too.

Oh!

No, I don't want a kiss, Colonel Klink!

Kiss Lebeau instead.

Hey, shh... it's okay.

You're dreaming.

I'm here. It's Bever...trice.

(sighs)

Bevertrice.

AJAX (in distance): I just heard Aunt Bernice.

Dad's room must be this way.

MAMBO: Ajax, we just talked to Aunt Bernice in Washington.

She can't be here.

(clears throat)

(deep voice): Boys, this is Dr. Stein.

I can't permit you to come in.

I...

Oh, hi.

(nervous chuckle)

Hi.

Would you mind telling me who you are?

(nervous chuckle)

Uh... long story.

CHARLES: This is so exciting.

MAMBO: Coming home with a new aunt.

BEVERLY: And a sick father.

Ajax, be careful carrying him.

Dr. Stein said that he's still disoriented and semi-conscious.

(thud)

Okay, unconscious.

(flies buzzing)

Well, that's unusual--

having a compost heap indoors.

It's Dad's bedroom.

Ah. Well, since Bernice is out of town

would her room be a little less, oh, maggoty?

Aunt Beverly, how long do we have to pretend you're mom?

Dr. Stein said

your father's full recovery depends

on my doing whatever your mother would have done.

Beatrice...

my angel...

could you...?

(whispering)

Oh, my God!

Actually, that sounds, uh...

No, no, no, no, I couldn't.

I mean, of course I will.

But, dear, you should rest first.

I can't, shnooky-lumps

at least not till I see you strapped in.

Thank God Bernice isn't here to see this.

Oh, Aunt Bernice just arrived.

We can introduce her to Beverly.

Hey, we were going to the bathroom.

This is more important.

No, it isn't! I gotta go!

So, who's stopping you?

(choking)

Ajax, just the person I need.

Yoiks. I hear that less often than one might think.

Look, your father asked me to, uh, do something

your mother used to, uh, do.

Play "training the poodle"?

Well, yeah, but before becoming intimate with a man

I like to, you know, not be his sister-in-law.

Look, I'm sure he'll fall asleep soon.

I'll put on one of Bernice's nightgowns

and act like I'll be with him

but you keep coming by and saying you need me

for different things, okay?

A-OK, Aunt Beverly.

She's not here. Can I go now?

Kitchen.

Charles?

Mambo?

Ajax?

Did you call my name?

No.

Did you see Aunt Bernice?

No.

(laughing lewdly)

(thud, groan)

Duckman, in your delirium

you must have been packing to leave.

Beatrice, do you still remember

how you'd start off a night of passion

by hitting me with a suitcase.

I can't believe I'm getting in bed with a man

and no Riunite has changed hands.

(knock on door) Hi.

Sorry to interrupt, but I'm, uh, on fire.

Honey, I am so sorry.

Here. Let me put you out.

(clicks tongue) (screams)

Sorority Scream-Fest?

Ooh, we haven't done that since Live Aid.

Duckman, you turd-toned, ptomaine-tainted, tally tugger--

What in the name of all that's unholy

are you doing in my bed?!

Samsonite.

Aunt Bernice! Aunt Bernice!

No, this is merely our new Aunt Beverly

in our old Aunt Bernice's clothes,

pretending to be our dead mom Beatrice.

If I can keep it straight, you can.

But I saw Aunt Bernice come in the house.

Hallucination. Happens all the time.

Let's go to the bathroom.

Bernice might be here?

Let's spread out and find her.

MAMBO: No!

Wait. I'm still trying to spread out.

Um... radioactive mice?

What?

Uh, an evil scientist

has just turned all our mice into monsters

that, um, can only be defeated by, uh, someone in a nightgown.

Whew! I am on today.

Ajax, what are you talking about?

Ooh!

Come and show me.

Nice hit, but it's better with luggage.

Look at that.

He is literally crawling on his hands and knees

to have perverted sex with his dead wife.

I'm deeply moved, yet sickened.

Duckman, are you all right?

Buttercup! Ilsa!

You've come home!

Duckman, no, I can't do this. I'm...

Shy? Out of condoms? Conscious?

Not Beatrice.

Lamby-poo, have you lost your mind?

Because I want you to know, even if I have you committed,

I'll be willing to boink you on visiting days.

It's a Hallmark moment.

But, Duckman, I have something to tell you

and, uh, it could be a bit of a shock.

I'm not your wife.

She died a long time ago.

Don't talk crazy.

Of course you're alive. See?

There you are.

Hah?

(gasping)

Who are you?

She's Beatrice.

No, I'm not.

Yes, you are.

She knows who she is, you moron!

I'm your sister.

No, you're not!

There she is.

Can you at least tell her quickly.

Aunt Beverly is your other sister

who got misplaced in the hospital,

so she hired a detective to find you

but she accidentally injured Dad,

so she had to pretend to be Mom.

Thanks. Can we please go?

I buy the stuff about the sister and the hospital

and the accident

but how would a detective be able to find people?

Other sister?!

But if that's true, do you know what it means?

Threesome?

We're triplets! We're triplets!

Oh, after all these years, I can't believe I found you.

After all these years, I can't believe you exist.

But there's so much to tell.

Do you know about...?

Beatrice. Yes, it's horrible.

I know.

And then after marrying Duckman, she died.

AJAX: Mudslide!

It's okay now, Ajax!

You've met the children?

Oh, they're wonderful.

Where are you staying?

No, don't answer that. Right here.

In fact, now that I'm a congresswoman

and obligated to attend $1,000-a-plate

prayer breakfasts every morning, maybe you could help

look after the kids till you get settled.

Oh, Bernice, could I?

You wouldn't mind?

Aw, that'd be great.

Ooh, stop jumping.

AJAX: Um, meteorite!

A meteorite just fell on me!

Ajax, you don't need to do that anymore!

AJAX (weakly): Okay.

Never mind.

Oh...

Hi.

Getting a snack?

Ah, look, I, uh...

I've been thinking about what you did, and...

Yeah, hey, I'm sorry, really.

Sorry?

You didn't even know me and you stayed with me,

talked with me, helped me recover.

You saved my life.

No, but I, but I felt so bad, pretending to be Beatrice.

It was wonderful.

It was like she was alive again.

I wish I could have seen you two together.

Yeah, we were something.

Uh, Beverly,

I don't remember exactly what I talked about

when I thought you were Beatrice.

Did I say anything, you know... private?

No, not really.

Even if you did say something intimate or private,

I've long since forgotten it.

Whew!

Well, good night, Beverly.

Good night, Eric.

(gasp, glass breaking)

(plate clattering)

(squishing, paddles rubbing together)

(more squishing, then more rubbing)

DOCTOR: Clear.

DUCKMAN: Buttercup! Ilsa!