Original subtitles

(whistles)

(footsteps approaching)

(screaming)

(screaming)

This sounds like more than we can handle.

(chuckling)

Amusing.

It's not without a certain understated omniscience.

(screaming)

Unhand her, cad, or I'll have to disarm you.

(chuckling)

Save that for my next book.

Stay back, Duckman,

or it's going to get ugly.

I said stay back!

One more step, and I'll... I'll...

and I'll...

pull back this curtain.

That's right,

it's This Could Be Your Life--

the show that each week takes a memorable personality

we can cross-promote with the evening news

and asks the burning question:

What makes him or her so unique, so special,

so one-of-a-kind,

we'll watch them on TV

rather than have go out and have a life of our own?

Tonight's guest

that incomparable crime-fighting hero--

Duckman!

AUDIENCE: Duckman! Duckman! Duckman!

(whispering) What? Really?

Well, Duckman, according to your family,

you're not an incomparable crime-fighting hero.

You're not special or unique.

In fact, there's absolutely nothing

memorable about you at all.

(screaming)

Whoa!

Smoke!

Smoke!

I need a smoke.

Ow!

(slurping)

Mmm.

BERNICE: What's the matter?

You seem a little down this morning.

It's okay. You can tell me about it.

I'm here for you.

If you really want to know... Uh-huh.

I had that dream again-- Oh...

the one where no one cares about anything I say or do.

Quiet, you worthless sack of pillow stuffing!

I'm on the phone!

We'll talk at lunch.

Duckman, you left feathers on the sink last night,

you were supposed to get your dog neutered--

I caught him looking funny at the hamster again--

and you've been smoking! I can smell it on your breath!

I was not smoking!

You can't accuse me of something I wasn't even doing.

Oh, yeah? Then you were sucking on the bottom of an ashtray

like some pathetic and disgusting nicotine junkie.

That's better.

I'm telling you for the last time, Duckman,

I don't want this house

smelling like one of your stale, old cigarette butts.

(breaking wind)

Like my stale old butts

are the problem around here.

Grandma-ma can't help it.

She's comatose.

Ow!

And you will be, too,

if you touch the children's breakfast.

Fine. I'll make

my own damn breakfast... again!

No fats, no preservatives, no red and yellow dyes.

Hmm. Shows you what happens when you let a bunch

of pasty-faced, pansy-wiped scientists

get you all worked up over a few carcinogens.

Yeast cakes--

every bite a nutritional potpourri.

Uh, morning, son.

How's school?

(choking)

(spits)

Ahh!

There's my stopwatch.

CHARLES: Is not!

MAMBO: Is so!

CHARLES: Is not! MAMBO: Is so!

Your theory totally overlooks the ontological side.

And yours underestimates the Cartesian perspective

on antisocial pathology.

Freudian. Jungian.

(grunting)

Charles, Mambo, knock it off.

You're giving me a headache.

Boys, not in front of Grandma-ma.

Yeast cakes! Yeast cakes!

BOTH: Good morning, Grandma-ma.

That's it. I've had it.

For all the response I get around here,

I might as well be invisible!

I know your mother died.

I know she left you and the house to her sister.

But I still live here! I'm still the man of the house!

And I demand to be heard!

(voice fading:) To be recognized! To be...

(breaking wind)

DUCKMAN: So, my sister-in-law

is a walking Cuisinart.

My children do treat me

like some kind of skin rash.

At least I'm freeway-close!

(crashing)

MAN: My tire!

I don't get it.

I brake for animals

if they're big enough to dent my car.

I don't pop any zits above the eye line.

I treat others the way I'd like to be treated.

(tires screeching)

Same to you, sister!

Devote a lifetime to the church, they think they own the road.

It would just be nice for once to be noticed--

get the kind of attention I deserve.

Note to myself:

More thumbtacks

in the bird feeder.

What the hell are you staring at?!

Hello, Mr. Duckman.

Being aware of your little digestive problem,

we made you a bran muffin

and a mug of steaming liquid grits.

Be good to your bowels

and they'll be good to you.

We also called your doctor to tell him

we think you've been a naughty detective.

You've been smoking again.

And he said...

Quote...

"Keep it up and his heart will burst and splatter

all over the inside of his tar-filled lungs."

End quote.

So we set traps

in all your cigarette packages.

(grunting)

(truck horn blaring)

Don't worry about Fluffy, sir.

That's the good thing about being stuffed.

We're very resilient.

That Mr. Duckman--

he's getting much better at expressing his emotions.

So what if they work for free?

The last thing I need this morning

is a couple of touchy-feely secretaries some cat coughed up.

(door opens)

Fine, thank you. Just peachy.

And how are you today?

Aces, Duckman.

I'm doomed, Cornfed, doomed to live an unnoticed life--

an anonymous drone stepped over

and unappreciated till the day I die.

Is it me or does your hair have more body?

Are you listening to me?!

I'm invisible, Corny.

I'm falling through the cracks without leaving a mark.

My own family ignores me, and who can blame them?

There's nothing special about me, nothing unique.

I'm just one more duck detective who works with a pig

and lives with the twin sister of his dead wife,

three sons in two bodies and a comatose mother-in-law

who's got so much gas, she's a fire hazard.

Sure, but there are things

that stand out about you, too.

Like what? Name one thing about me that stands out,

that I'll be remembered for.

(engine droning outside)

Is that a zeppelin?

Oh, nice!

You see, I'm not unique! I'm not special!

I don't even have a coffee mug with my name on it!

It's the dream again, Duckman.

You're letting it win.

I know, I used to have a recurring dream.

I'd dream I fell and hit my head on a fishbowl--

hurt myself just bad enough

to work graveyard shift at a convenient store.

A group of Hare Krishnas always came in at 4:00 A.M.

and bought 16 gallons of Mr. Slushy

and a package of banana-flavored Ding Dongs.

Then the Swedish bikini team jumped out of a magazine

and read Moby Dick to me

inside a giant carton of cottage cheese.

"Why?" I'd ask myself. "What could it mean?

"Am I mad? Or is the world

simply a mystery too complex to understand?"

Mm-hmm.

Um, getting back to me!

(intercom buzzing)

FLUFFY: Mr. Duckman, a package just came.

URANUS: But we think we should send it back.

It's wrapped in non-biodegradable plastic tape.

Just open it!

Not that I ever get anything good.

No one out there cares if I live or die either.

Good news: someone cares.

It's true, Corny!

Someone sent a bomb to me!

Someone actually wants me dead!

But who? I can't think of anyone

who would want to kill me.

Well, there's your paper boy, the neighbor with the dog

you set the bear traps for, the cab driver's union,

the father of that ballerina...

Never mind. I know who it has to be. Let's go.

...two of your uncles, Scout troop 44...

Mr. Duckman, if you could find our arms and legs?

This radiator's getting a tad warm.

(alarm sounding)

DUCKMAN: Thanks for letting us see the prisoner, Warden.

Obviously, this is a very serious matter.

(stifled laughter)

I'm the one who had him arrested.

I'm sure he's seeking revenge

by trying to violently end my life.

Why do you think it's him?

I'm a detective, Warden. We make a living on our hunches.

I was able to eliminate others I've captured

because our cater-to-everyone- but-the-victim legal system

let them off on technicalities.

They weren't guilty.

Yeah, yeah, that kind of thing.

Can we just get on with this?

Lucky for them, they're behind bars.

I'd love to teach these brain-dead,

bread-and-water-eating scumbags some manners.

Did I mention we're on the honor system?

A little prison humor, fellas.

Fact is, some of my best friends are brain-dead,

bread-and-water-eating scumbags.

PRISONERS: Oh, okay.

That's all right.

DUCKMAN: What happens, Warden?

What snaps in a man?

What makes him sink so low

that he ends up spending an empty lifetime

in a hellhole like this?

Good dental plan.

Oh, oh. You meant the prisoners.

Who knows?

Too many violent cartoons when they were kids.

Rehab.

We like to acclimate prisoners, not just back into society,

but into high society.

There are those, of course,

who are too far gone to be rehabilitated...

the white-collar criminals.

There's gang activity brewing.

They're wearing their colors today.

Inside traders in the red ties.

S & L executives in the blue.

Zero coupon bonds!

Muni's!

Zero coupon bonds! Muni's!

WARDEN: It's a very delicate situation.

One misstep could cause a full-scale riot.

(gunfire)

(alarms sounding)

(chuckling)

Frees up a few more cells.

WARDEN: The cell of Wolfgang Cracker--

the cannibalistic maniac

who has committed some of the most horrendous crimes

known to mankind.

(sarcastically): Ooh, I'm shaking.

I caught him once.

I think I'm ready for whatever he's got.

(screaming) (screams)

(chuckling)

Sorry. Did I scare you?

A little fun I have.

People seem to expect it.

Please, do come in.

You have a photo session at 4:00--

with the mask.

The mayor's asked you to do two more cannibal awareness spots.

The Beef Council called again and so did Heinz.

Impressive, no?--

what a monstrously grotesque crime and a good agent can do.

I don't believe I caught your name.

You know who I am, pal.

I'm the guy who put you away!

Oh, yes! Dogman... Darkwing, Daffy...

Duckman!

Duckman! Precisely.

The one I tripped over.

We don't need to go into that now.

His sister-in-law was chasing him

with a waffle iron when he slipped

on his son's skateboard and rolled into the street

just as Cracker was running to his getaway car

causing Cracker to trip over Duckman,

flying into a passing police car.

You think that was an accident? Ha!

And now you've sworn revenge.

You're trying to kill me!

Yes, the parole board called.

They'd like to discuss releasing you tomorrow at 2:00.

Can't. PTA is here at 2:00.

Try breakfast, month from Wednesday.

Getting caught is the best thing

that ever happened to me, Duct Tape.

I've become rich and famous in prison.

I've even helped erase

the silly stigma attached to my particular avocation.

You know, eat 20, 25 people they label you.

But thanks to my book My Favorite Finger Foods--

35 weeks as a national best seller--

what was once an unspeakable taboo

is now a life-style choice.

Arnold's on one-- wants to be in your next exercise video.

Two's Gabor about your new line of greeting cards.

Call backs.

And, of course,

I've found religion as well.

Now I only eat fishermen on Fridays.

Only kidding.

My success guarantees that I'll be loved by millions

while you'll live and die in obscurity.

So, with regards to my

having you killed, Dark Meat...

why bother?

Special delivery.

Ah... I'd say another organ of some kind.

Fans... if you'll excuse me.

I don't buy what you're selling, Cracker.

Every instinct I've honed over all my years as a detective

tells me you're the only one who could be trying to kill me!

(groaning)

Of course, I could be convinced otherwise.

I'm feeling a little frazzled--

like things are starting to unravel.

I sure could use

a chestful o' smoke about now.

Ow!

This bomber's going to kill me, Cornfed!

He finds me everywhere--

in my office, in the prison...

In your car.

(screams)

DUCKMAN: Close one, Corny.

At least this time no one got hurt.

I don't want to miss dinner.

I got to take one more shot at talking to my kids--

connecting with them, you know, before...

Hey, twins...

I just had a thought.

Bet it hurt.

First one's always the hardest.

Is it possible to love a sandwich so much

you don't want to eat it

'cause then it'll be gone?

Hey, kids, I was thinking

we could spend a little bit of quality...

Dibs on the window closest to the exhaust.

Oh, Duckman, you're three minutes late.

I gave your dinner to a man

who came to the door selling blenders.

And you got a message from someone who said

you made a mistake in your past

and you're gonna pay for it

by being blown into a thousand little bits of flesh.

I'll be back at 9:30.

But wait!

Kids!

I wanted to...

(siren blaring)

The answer's up here.

The bomber said I made a mistake in my past.

My whole past is in this attic.

What a pigsty!

Oh, uh... figure of speech.

(grunting)

Huh.

Ironic, isn't it?

Your search through the past

for clues to the killer's identity

may actually provide clues to your own identity...

the search in the end

becoming man's ultimate search--

the search for himself.

You have a large wad of broccoli

stuck between your teeth.

Here they are! I knew I had them.

The answer's got to be in here-- home movies!

Actually, I've been putting off

re-grouting that bathroom tile too long.

This first one goes back to when I was really young.

I want to be captain!

Okeydokey, Duckboy. I just want to be fair

even though you have been captain 37 times in a row.

I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it!

What the hell are you staring at?

Well, Duckman, just a reminder

that treating others like this young mouse does

is the surest road to a successful

and rewarding life.

I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it!

So what? So the squeaky-voiced little rodent

kissed a few rear ends, made a buck or two.

Maybe there's something in these.

Help, Duckman, help!

Eat your spinach

so you can break through the ropes and save me!

Help!

Whoever got to be a hero eating spinach?

(train whistle blaring)

There's got to be something good I did in here.

Hello, Mr. Ranger, sir.

Where should my son and I take our pic-a-nic basket?

One last camping trip together

before he goes to college

and becomes better than your average duck.

Uh, Dad... I've decided not to go to college.

No college?

That would be a big boo-boo.

You're going to college

if I have to drag you there myself.

(yelling)

Huh!

So I met Beatrice instead.

That wasn't a mistake.

TV ANNOUNCER: Now for this week's jackpot of $32 million dollars.

The winning numbers are 4, 11, 22, 51 and 88.

That's me!

Whoo-hoo! I won!

(chewing and swallowing)

(screaming)

Duckman, you're not using my vacuum for that again.

I'll change the filter.

Honey, what am I going to do with you?

Sometimes I think

if anything ever happened to me,

I'd have to will those kids and this house to my sister.

(both chuckling)

Don't worry, Beatrice.

Nothing's ever going to happen to you.

Things sure have changed over the years.

I miss her.

You know, tomorrow would have been our wedding anniversary.

I forgot. I guess I blocked it out.

It's the first one I'll be spending without her.

That may explain

the way you've been feeling lately.

(screams)

It's a dud, Corny. We're safe.

Hey, look! There's a note on the package.

"I'll see you at your grave."

(evil laughter in distance)

It's him!

Time for the obligatory chase.

(tires squealing)

What a yutz--

trying to hide in a glow-in-the-dark T-shirt.

Might as well send up a warning flare.

(snorts)

What, no map?

(animals howling)

(screaming)

(screaming)

What the..? This is my plot.

Beatrice's is right next to it, but I never bought a headstone.

I did, Duckman. It's a trap.

I never saw it coming.

Oh, "rest in pieces," blow me up.

Did I mention

how much I enjoyed your sense of irony?

Actually, I'm not going to blow you up.

I'm going to chop you up.

(screaming)

(chain saw buzzing)

(yelling)

Play with tigers,

you get covered in yellow hair.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry,

but I had to do something to get you back

after you took those pictures of me

having an affair.

I know my wife paid you to do it, but it ruined my life.

She left me.

She was the only thing that made me special.

Now I'm a nobody. It's like I never even existed!

Wait a minute, pal. Hold the phone.

You're saying I got paid on this job?

Gee, I'd remember that.

You know, you're right.

You're not the guy.

Sorry.

It's just that you look a lot like him.

In fact, you look like a million other duck detectives.

It's not like you stand out or anything.

It's an honest mistake.

No hard feelings?

These things happen.

Listen, I'm, uh...

I'm a little too depressed to take you down to the police.

Can I trust you to turn yourself in?

Yeah, sure.

Boy, do I feel stupid.

You hear that, Cornfed? I'm not special.

Even my own killer doesn't think so.

Get ahold of yourself, Duckman.

It's true, Cornfed.

I'm just like that bomber.

I lost my identity when I lost my wife.

But you still have something

he doesn't, remember?

His chain saw?

Your children.

You're still the only father they have.

That makes you special.

No one else could have created the family you did.

I mean that in a good way.

Oh, what's the point?

Their own mother didn't think I was up to raising them.

And maybe I'm not.

Maybe that's why they ignore me.

Beatrice made me a better person.

Without her here to help, I'm... I'm just not a very good father.

(everyone talking inside house)

Happy anniversary, Dad.

First one without Mom.

We know it's tough.

We miss her, too.

But I did want to tell you,

the twins and me think you're doing a good job, Dad,

and we love you.

DUCKMAN: Thank you... son.