Original subtitles

(duck quacks)

Where should I begin?

JACOBS: Perhaps you could tell me why you're here.

Because of someone named Duckman.

Duckman. Ah, yes.

You know him?

About half my practice

is people who came into contact with Duckman.

He's my partner.

Oh, my God.

I'll give you an extra hour.

It all started last week.

I remember everything as clearly

as if it were going to be reenacted

right before our eyes.

(teeth chattering)

Aah! There it is!

There's the ghost, staring at me

from inside the picture frame!

It's nothing but pure evil, glaring with hate

in its horrible, disgusting, twisted, ugly face!

Duckman, that's my reflection in the mirror.

Oh. Hmm. By the way, Corny,

on a completely different subject,

you ever considered a snout job?

Duckman, we've been sitting here for hours,

and no ghost has appeared.

I tell you, someone's been haunting me all week.

Actually, once when I was working late,

I saw a spectral vision, and...

Sorry, I don't follow you.

A spectral vision is...

No. "Working late."

It's not another masturbation reference, is it?

The censor's getting pissed.

My encounter with the undead

was an experience so profound and moving that...

Hold that thought.

It's crapper time.

(three deep, echoing thuds)

Hold your horses, excretion-boy.

I got pimples to squeeze.

GHOSTLY VOICE: Duckman!

All right, all right.

Dwaah!

Boo already.

Uncle Mo!

You were expecting Patrick Swayze?

Mo Dorkin, the obnoxious uncle who I tried to kick out

of the house when he was dying of heart cancer?

Frankly, I'd forgotten most of the episode

though now you brought it back

with that incredibly subtle piece of exposition.

Now, listen up.

I have a message from your father.

He said to say hi, how you doing,

he just got killed.

What? I can't believe it!

Have I ever lied to you since dying?

Plus, he said to say

some character named King Chicken did it.

King Chicken murdered my father?!

Yes, murdered, and if you got any tamales at all,

you'll bop him back.

Okay, see you.

As always, it's been a pain.

Ow!

Stupid corporeal world!

(wind howling sinisterly)

I can't believe it.

Gone. Gone forever.

Duckman, are you familiar with the term "anal retentive"?

Not that-- my father!

The ghost said King Chicken murdered him.

How could King Chicken do that?

I mean, aside from trying to wipe each other

off the face of the earth

we've gotten along fine.

I even called a truce

so we could slobber around Bernice

the last few weeks. Now I got to kill him.

I know. I'll pretend to be insane.

Your plan to avenge your father's murder is to act crazy,

thus convincing the murderer to admit his guilt

so you can murder him?

Brilliant, isn't it?

Brilliant doesn't begin to describe it.

Nicely put. Now go home and don't come back

till the plot needs explaining again.

Yes, sir.

(guttural clucking)

Congresswoman Bernice, tell me again

what it's like working under Dick Gephardt.

Oh, Kingy!

(coy giggles)

Are you sure you're not married anymore?

Bernice, I thought I explained.

My wife, honey...

(sniffles)

died again.

I thought I saw her come out of the house yesterday.

Ah. Well, you see, she died after being struck

by a very rare kind of lightning bolt

which has the documented medical effect of causing the victim

to occasionally "seem" as if she's come back to life

but not really.

That's so sad.

(fake sob)

Make it better, Bernie.

Oh...

(Bernice screams)

Oh, I believe I've found the B-spot!

No, look, it's Duckman, and he's...

Oh, God, it's horrible!

I can't watch.

He's reading a book!

Yes, it turns out these are fascinating devices.

Without a modem, you can instantly access information

merely by turning these ultra-thin pages.

What, are you nuts?!

As a matter of fact,

yes! I've gone Loony Tunes--

a registered trademark of the Warner Brothers Corporation--

so Cluckface here can talk about anything evil he's done

and not worry about me.

Duckman, old bean, I have changed.

Tyrannizing the world

and being the embodiment of pure evil is for the young.

That's why I've gotten into a new line--

making toys for children

whose parents don't have the time or energy

to actually deal with them

and are desperately hoping a new electronic geegaw

will keep the little bastards off drugs for another month.

What a marvelous idea.

Bernicious, isn't that simply a marvelous idea?

Yeah. That was a close one.

I hate those, uh...

invisible... vampire telephone repairmen

from Mars.

Ye-e-e-yeah.

Duckman, perhaps this is a good time

to tell you some wonderful news.

Given that my wife is more or less--

but definitely more than less-- dead,

your sister-in-law and I are contemplating

something all couples dream of.

Doing it in the clothes hamper?

Marriage, you vomit-colored vermin!

Just think, Duckman--

that will make you my brother-in-law once removed.

Well, that's marvelous news, Bernostomy.

Now you'll get to spend

the rest of your life watching

while one of you gets so monstrously fat,

and the other so hideously thin

that together, you'll look like the number ten

before you start to sag and crack and fall apart

and lose your hair, teeth, hearing, eyesight

and control of your bowels.

Will you find a landing field?!

(grunts)

(grunts)

(grunting)

Hmm. Duckman is acting even stupider than usual.

Yes. He'll never discover my dread secret.

What secret is that, Kingy?

Oh. For a moment, I forgot you existed.

Um, my secret fear that he's plotting against me.

Oh, if only there were people who could find out.

People even stupider than Duckman.

(doorbell chiming)

We're sorry

to burst in inappropriately...

But Mr. Duckman left a light on in the office.

Yes. Your beloved chieftain

has been acting in an eccentric fashion of late.

In fact, I'd consider it a great personal favor

if you would try to surreptitiously determine

if he is genuinely demented or just stupid.

Well, as long as it's for his own good.

Oh, it is, on my...

Oh, what's the word?

Honor? Honor?

I will be, as soon as you leave.

(clucking)

(laughing) (laughing)

I could kill him now while he's got

his hand in Bernice's...

Dwaah!

Hello, Mr. Duckman. Hello, Mr. Duckman.

Mr. Chicken asked us to ask you

if you were really crazy or just faking.

But he wants us to ask in a way

so you don't know what we're doing

or that he asked us to do it.

Can we rephrase that? Can we rephrase that?

No need.

After all, would a crazy man do this?

(Fluffy and Uranus scream)

Ahh! You're killing those little bears!

Oh, no. It's Fluffy and Uranus.

They love it.

(Fluffy and Uranus screaming)

But there are people

who are cruel.

People who kill people's fathers--

which I am against-- (mixer whirring)

and then have sex with their sister-in-law

which I'd kind of admire

if it didn't involve Bernice.

(quavering screams)

What a piece of crap is man.

Just thinking about him

makes you want to puke your guts out.

(sniffing)

I'm getting out of here.

You're crazy!

That's right!

Tell your friends!

Everything's going according to plan.

Wait a minute. What plan?

What the hell am I doing?

For once in my life, I'm slightly confused.

Corny!

Hello, Duckman.

Perhaps I can help. Think about it:

A ghost says your father was killed by a king

who's in love with a woman close to you

so you feign insanity

to get him to admit his guilt.

Does that remind you of anything?

Yes. It seems awfully similar to what I've been doing

for the last three hours!

(sighs)

Hey, you really here?

Yes. That's a little invention I'm working on--

the Personal Digital Bubble.

It appears to have no practical application

other than impressing chicks.

Returning to my point, the story I recounted

is from a play by William Shakespeare.

Duckman, there is no explanation for what I'm about to say,

but you appear to be trapped inside the plot of Hamlet.

Listen, Cornstuffing, this isn't some off-Broadway flopola

by a limey loser who never sold a screenplay.

This is real life, in an animated sort of way.

I gotta think. Hand me those photos, would you?

The ones from the Scandinavian Porno Palace?

Yeah, the prints of Denmark.

So, what did this hambone do next?

He wrote a play to trick the king

into admitting his guilt.

That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard.

Wait. No, I think I'll do the same thing.

Cornfed?

Yes? Why did you stop?

You were telling the story of how

Duckman's life inadvertently mimicked Hamlet's,

and you just stopped and said nothing for exactly two minutes.

Why?

Uh... no reason.

So, two minutes later, I had gone home

to rest for my next appearance

when Duckman was surprised

by yet another horrifying vision.

Dwaah!

I pray you're only homicidal maniacs

come to butcher me and my family

and not my boys dressed up like clowns.

Hi, Dad.

No.

We're rehearsing

for our tribute to the school clown

who recently passed away.

Yelnick? Yelnick honked?

I can't believe it. I had him booked between halves

at the Steak 'N Slosh Creamed Corn Wrestle-Fest next week.

Hey, what's that?

Nothing. Certainly not the clown's skull

dug up and laminated

in a desperate attempt to avoid flunking art class.

Cool.

Look at that-- even the plaque is wacky.

Poor Yelnick. I knew him well.

What a moron. Where's your fake vomit now, funnyman?

One minute, you're on top of the world

making 15 bucks a pop at birthday parties

sticking rubber snakes down little girls' underwear...

the next, you're munching a worm sandwich

while frat boys tip sleeping cows on your grave.

What the hell am I talking about?

Dad, perhaps you'd like to be alone

with your rapidly deteriorating mental condition.

No. In fact, I just spent two minutes writing a play,

which you guys can help me perform for King Chicken.

Any questions?

Yes. When's the English translation come out?

Ho-ho, it is to laugh.

Now, a couple of tips on acting.

First, the saliva question.

Yes, it's in there and yes, it's gonna come out.

Try to spit away from the women.

Got that from Pacino.

Second, if you hit a rough spot,

yank out your doodle and spin it around.

Tends to distract the critics.

The only part of me that feels uplifted is my stomach.

(giggling)

Duckman! Kids!

I was just helping Kingy with some... grooming.

Yes. This hair is a constant struggle.

Well, if you're done getting plucked,

I have something surprising to tell you.

If it has to do with those missing cheerleaders,

we're way ahead of you.

I, Duckman, have written a play.

Kill me. Kill me now.

Can it wait till after the show?

And you might pay special attention to the plot,

which may remind you

of a real-life situation--

one you're personally familiar with--

a story very much like you yourselves may have lived...

something almost exactly the same...

Will you get on with it?!

Ladies and gentlemen,

the Mercury Theater of the Living Room presents

Ching Kichen and the Big Fat Slut

by Duckman.

Ajax, where's your costume?

Okay. Remember, the key to this play

is to be subtle.

I am Ching Kichen and I am an evil killing machine

and I'll evilly kill anyone who says I'm not.

Oh, Kingy!

You are the handsomest evil killing machine

I have ever met.

Bernoose!

I can't wait

to throw my minimal charms at your groin

and hope you don't kill any members of my family

till I am done booting your hard drive.

"She takes off her top"?

Beverly was supposed to play that part.

Halt! It is I, Drakeman.

I take off my top in dismay.

Just skip over the sex parts.

Now, while I wipe off the cooking oil,

for what have you come here for?

To stop this evil demon

from defiling the sanctity of whatever.

It's a first draft.

Stop now, or I shall use more big words at you.

Forget it.

I am so craven and cowardly and stupid and smelly,

all I can do is shoot you in the back.

Bang.

Oh.

(groans)

Ee-eew!

I am not cleaning that up!

How dare you slaughter the man

who I secretly worshipped as a God?!

Again, I shall take off my...

And furthermore, slice.

From hell's heart, I stab at thee.

Slice!

Ha ha!

I have won!

(groans)

I am suffering a fatal heart attack--

the destiny of all who commit evil

or do something Duckman doesn't like.

Now is stilled a dark and evil voice.

Let all women take off their tops and rejoice.

I think you have third act problems.

Nice play, Dreckman.

The only thing missing was Lincoln getting shot!

We haven't felt so exploited in three days.

I found it a provocative piece of stagecraft

marred only by the author's overweening pretense

towards psychological insight.

But the violence was keen.

Oh, yeah? You guys wouldn't know brilliant subtle theater

if it threw up on you.

Your idea of medieval classic is Piscopo doing Sinatra.

* Doo-bee doo-bee-doo

Wait. It's not "doo-bee..." or is it?

Damn. "Doo-bee" or not "doo-bee"?

No, that's not the question.

It's why I have to take this abuse.

What do they want me to do, cack myself?

I'm just stalling.

Oh, what a tongue-shaped urine-colored ass I am.

Duckman, were you doing a soliloquy?

No, I'm against drugs, Corny.

I was just talking to myself.

You're still living Shakespeare's play with you as Hamlet,

King Chicken as the King, Bernice as Gertrude...

Hello. Not caring.

But perhaps only by solving the mystery of the play

can we hope to break you free.

Fine. So what's it mean?

It is, perhaps, the first psychological portrait

of a fully modern man in the sense that...

I meant in two words.

Revenge destroys.

Well, duh!

But it often destroys the revenger.

That's why I believe that convincing society

to scorn the transgressor is the best revenge.

Yeah, but there's nothing like a good old-fashioned stoning.

Duckman, do you know how Hamlet ends?

Everyone hugs?

Hamlet is a tragedy.

If I'm right,

and you've become trapped inside Shakespeare's plot,

unless we can find a way to break you out,

you will die.

JACOBS: Yes? So what happened next?

(sighs)

Two minutes, right?

It was clear to me that Duckman was in great danger

and to save his life, we had to escape

from King Chicken-- leaving immediately

not allowing ourselves

to be distracted by anything he says or does

no matter how clever.

Duckman, got a minute?

Sure. Is that a Game Boy?

No. For legal reasons

this is not a Game Boy by Nintendo.

This is something entirely different.

The, um, Game... Guy.

Wow! And it's mine?

One for each.

Say, you know what would be good, clean,

as-far-as-you-know nonlethal fun?

You two could have a contest!

I am widely known as the world's foremost expert

on pushing things with his fingers.

The triple-A battery hasn't been born

that can count the ninjas I've left headless.

Good. Look them over

feel them, touch them,

make sure they come into contact

with as much skin area as possible.

Little do they know

that I have coated the surface of these toys

with Laffindoom-- a chemical I've invented

which induces laughter so ceaseless and hearty

that it stops only with death.

There's something suspicious

about King Chicken's sudden and unlikely generosity,

not to mention the way he's talking to the camera.

I wonder if these devices contain some hidden property,

which could be of danger to Duckman and/or myself.

Two hermaphrodites go into a bar...

JACOBS: Wait a minute.

If these Game Guys were the equivalent

of the poison-tipped swords used by King Claudius

in the duel between Hamlet and Laertes,

why did you accept them?

You want logic or you want to hear the end? Go on.

CORNFED: As Duckman and I took our places in the living room

I began to feel that my concerns were justified.

(chuckling)

Cornilingus... prepare for doom!

Duckman, choose your intellectually vapid

carpal tunnel-inducing weapon. (laughing)

(laughing)

"Alien Terminator."

(laughter continues)

Am I something?

I don't understand half the jokes I say.

On your marks...

get set...

die!

(laughter stops)

I mean... go!

(laughter resumes)

I... I'm suffering...

a fatal heart attack.

Oh!

The destiny of all

who do something... King Chicken doesn't like.

I mean... oh, dear.

Duckman! Dad! Are you dead?

I'm going fast, boys!

(laughing uncontrollably): Just remember one thing--

don't let anyone ever... dig up the backyard.

(groans)

Cornfed! Cornfed! Cornfed!

(laughing): Chicken's... fault...

(sinister laughter)

(clucking)

Kingy! Are you responsible for this?

Who else?

Duckman, do you remember having a toothache last week?

(laughing): My regular dentist was arrested for soliciting.

There was a substitute... you!

(cackling)

Damn you, Chicken!

You charged me $80!

I capped two bicuspids!

Also, while you were under the gas,

I planted a series of post-hypnotic suggestions

including this one.

(ghostly voice): Duckman... (sinister whooshing)

Hi. Yeah, the rooster's right.

I'm a figment of your pathetic imagination.

Does this mean my father's still alive?

If you call that living.

So listen, I'm out of here.

I got a date with the head of Jayne Mansfield. (whooshing)

Anyhoo...

I knew I would succeed.

And I have!

Oh, yeah?!

Egad!

Exactly!

Suspecting Game Guy treachery,

I used these transparent gloves

to prevent us from touching the poisoned surface.

That's right-- without these gloves,

touching this would have brought certain... uh...

Doom!

(giggles)

(uncontrollable laughter)

Wait one last-minute- plot-twist second!

Am I to understand that your attentions

were all just part of some stupid, inconsequential plan

to kill Duckman?!

Quick! We have to find a way to dilute the chemical.

I've got an idea!

(still laughing)

Duckman, we've escaped from the play.

We changed the ending.

(laughing): Instead of everyone dying,

we've ostracized the wrongdoer

through the sanctifying power of derisive laughter.

Wait till our English teacher hears about this.

"So tell him

"with the occurrents, more and less,

Which have solicited-- The rest is silence."

JACOBS: Okay, now, you can't

expect me to believe Duckman said that.

In fact, I'm beginning to doubt this entire story.

Well, maybe it didn't happen exactly like that,

but the only way we could get this episode's sex and violence

past the V-chip

was to hide behind a cultural icon like Hamlet

which, if it were written today,

would itself be censored.

And it worked!

Our show is done...

The villain's whipped...

The good guys won...

We did our best...

Pulled out the stops...

Let's all rejoice...

ALL: And take off our tops!

BERNICE: Oh, God, it's horrible! I can't watch!