Duckman (1994) s02e06 Episode Script
The Germ Turns
(whistles) (quacks) This is amazing, children.
To actually discover an ancient healing crystal in our own backyard.
Zut alors! and a horrible satanic beast are trapped inside its shimmering surface.
Ajax, that's you, and there's no satanic beast.
Shh! Come on, kids, I can't wait to have this analyzed at the New Age Fair today.
Ready to go? ALL: Yeah! Travel checklist.
Map? Ajax's car sickness bag? And it's still a few drops from capacity.
Grandma-ma's life-check mirror? (passing gas) ALL: She lives! Okay, one last, teeny-tiny almost-too-insignificant- to-mention thing.
Duckman! I guess none of you heard about the president's hang-from-a-ceiling-fan- for-peace program.
Look, Bernice, I have better things to do with my time than spend it at some New Age Fair with a bunch of mindless circus freaks.
If you prefer, Dad, we could walk a few steps behind you.
Not you, son.
I'm talking about the other mindless circus freaks.
Ah! This whole new age thing is just a bunch of mantra-chanting, incense-breathing, herb-sucking yahoos.
Whoa! It's all right, Connie.
Maury won't be home for hours.
For your information, new-agers are amongst the few brave enough to explore alternative mind states and discover past lives.
This, for instance, could have belonged to the mighty warrior-king Ramtha who ruled Atlantis when I, as his queen, lay at his feet, looking up at his hard, chiseled torso while he thrust his staff proudly into the air.
Yuck! I haven't been this nauseated since the last Harvey Keitel nude scene.
Here I always say, if you rub something and nothing happens, it's worthless.
Charles, Mandingo.
Mambo.
Whatever.
I can't believe you're buying this cosmic cow plop.
Actually, we're of two minds.
(both laughing) On the one hand, we're reluctant to shed our cold, scientific bias.
On the other hand, even we can't explain the miracles that we've come across in the three hours since we dug it up.
Like this bush that burns, but doesn't consume itself.
I must have snuffed out my cigarette there.
Next! There's a movie on USA tonight that doesn't have the word "murder" in the title.
Happens twice a year.
Next! What about all the new friends Gecko made after we took the crystal down the block to the pet cemetery? Duckman, it's time you took an interest in your children's interests.
Besides, I need someone to clean up after Ajax if he vomits on the escalator again.
It wouldn't be so bad if they had one of those nonelectric ones.
You mean a staircase? It seems like they have names for everything now.
MAN (on P.
A.
): The white zone is for the channeling and unchanneling of Aztec deities only.
How much, moonbeam? We believe that inflexible quantifications are demeaning to the human spirit.
The amount of your donation is set according to your aura.
Oh, well, I-I don't usually have this aura.
I was in a hurry this morning.
I may have missed the genitalia.
Your aura is a mystic reflection of your soul, okay? The essence of what is inside you.
(screaming) All right, it's free.
Boys, why don't you run off and get the crystal analyzed.
We'll meet over there at the Tut 2000 meditation pyramid.
Look, Grandma-ma.
Beauty secrets of the ancient Egyptians.
Wonder if they've got anything that can improve my Nefertitis.
(passing gas) (Bernice giggling) Oh, how refreshing.
Mmm, what a wonderful scent.
Must have some.
Ooh, ee, ooh, ah, ow.
Wonder where a duck can get a dog around here.
Sholem aleichem.
I'll have the dried twigs and swamp moss on a sesame seed bun.
I eat only macrobiotic foods.
That's why, although I'm 108 years old, I still have the bouncy demeanor of a high school cheerleader.
Hot pizza.
Eee! DUCKMAN: Hallelujah! (screams) (blows landing) A dozen pardons, mein swami.
I have traveled many days over hot sand and salty-tasting camel droppings to hear a tiny syllable of your wisdom.
And, while I'm at it, how about a slice? Hell, take the whole thing.
I got an ulcer sounds like a Moscow department store during a toilet paper sale.
Mort Sidelman.
You're a sport, Mort.
Name's Duckman.
You, uh, don't seem to be fishing out of the same stream of consciousness as the rest of these rubberheads.
What do I know from enlightened? I sign a 20-year lease on this booth and they relocate the auto show to Boise.
But what the hey? With reincarnation, I figure I'll get a lot of repeat customers.
(chuckling) "Reincarnation.
" They come back.
I'm still reading the instruction manual, but it seems the skinny is no one really dies.
Yeah? Well, I could have sworn I buried Mom right down the street at Plots-R-Us.
According to this, she's still kicking.
I wouldn't doubt it.
I told those bozos to check for a pulse.
You know, you tell 'em you got a styrofoam casket and a hooker doing makeup, they think they can cut corners.
No, what it's saying is, she's been reincarnated-- come back to earth in another body.
We might even be able to talk to her.
World's first electronic channeling machine.
Let's fire it up and see what happens.
You got a photo of your loved one? Yeah, but it's all sticky.
I Oh, Ma.
Ying-yang, yang-yin.
Bring forth the broad with the double chin.
It says here she might come back as a whole other life-form.
Hope you got some way to recognize her.
What the hell are you staring at? Mommy, it's really you! You're alive, but you look different somehow.
What is it? You lost weight? Changed your hair? Trimmed your eyebrows? I'm a highly infectious germ.
That's it.
Wow, I can't believe you're really here.
I thought it was some kind of trick, like the time you told me my bath was ready then had the whole bridge club wait behind the door with cameras.
But we could reminisce all day.
Tell me how you been.
Catch me up! We have so much to talk about.
First things first.
Who are you? (laughing) Oh, I'm teasing.
I know exactly who you are.
Wait.
Don't tell me.
You were always around my house.
I remember.
Dust Mop.
Duckman.
Whatever.
When you don't spend a lot of time at home, names of things tend to run together.
What happened, Mom? I mean, why are you a, you know, a? Diseased-wielding parasite? Karma.
Which is not to say I don't like being a germ.
I still go to all the best parties, the only difference is now I'm there to make people violently ill.
(chuckles weakly) I don't understand why this happened.
You were a good person.
What about all the things you did for me? Why, I remember them as clearly as if I were having a flashback.
I'm home, Mom.
Is that you, Dish Rag? Duckman.
Whatever.
Isn't there something you're usually doing around this time of day? I go to school, Mom, but I couldn't stay there.
They're mean to me.
They threw basketballs at me in gym class, pianos in music class, battery acid in shop! When did the school get a piano? Everyone hates me.
I get beat up and made fun of every day.
But you haven't lost your favorite earrings on the afternoon of the spring soiree, have you? Well, I'm off to the embassy.
I'm fairly certain I called the baby-sitter.
The party lasts through the weekend.
Then I'll just be taking an eensy-weensy trip around the world.
Ciao.
So you periodically abandoned me, skipped my graduation and wedding, missed the births of all your grandchildren and couldn't postpone the lambada cruise when I got hit by that bus and hovered on the brink of death for three months.
I never blamed you.
It isn't easy raising a child while you're ambassador to Luxembourg.
Oh, I forgot to tell you.
That was a lie.
I spent a lot of time at the embassy, but it was because they liked having me at their parties.
I was, you know fun.
Anyway, the cosmic pooh-bah decided I should be punished and here I am.
Ooh, my massage.
You'd think becoming an invertebrate would have helped my lower back.
Oh, well.
Good seeing you again, Dart Board.
Duckman.
Whatever.
Toodle-oo.
That was her.
That was my mom.
The woman who used to nurse me and rock me to sleep.
Well, once.
It isn't fair.
She deserves better than that.
Not according to the manual.
It's very clear about getting demoted if you neglect your kids.
Wait a minute.
I do that.
That means I could end up that way or worse! What's lower than germ? Slug, maggot, La Toya.
You're young enough, though.
You still got time to rack up a few points on the old cosmic scoreboard.
Well, at least I can try.
I mean, I am young.
I do have time to change.
It's not like I'm gonna die in the next five seconds.
(yelps) (car horns honking) I'm sorry yesterday's analysis proved inconclusive.
Us, too.
Apparently, it's either a mystic talisman offering a gateway to alternate realities Or debris from a failed called Liberace Land.
Oh, well, Who wants liver and whey muffins? My colon votes a hearty yes.
(gasps) (explosion) Rise and shine-ola, progeny of mine! Belly up to the breakfast bar courtesy of your ever-loving dad.
Turkey-gravy doughnuts.
Graham cracker and Mallomar pancakes.
And I highly recommend the fudge-ripple churros-- Whoa.
It's a festival of partially hydrogenated potassium lactylate.
I have no idea how I know that.
Plus, I got you video games, pogs, sizzling CDs by some of today's hottest and most sociopathic rap stars and, to top it off, rare, rookie season baseball cards featuring each of your favorite players.
Why do I picture an eight-year-old card collector tied up in a closet somewhere? Bernice, please.
Can't a father dote on his children without raising a few overly penciled eyebrows? Just knowing my love is recognized by them-- and any all-powerful being who happens to be looking in-- makes my heart burst with pride.
If they eat that binge bilge, their hearts will burst with thrombosis! Just so they die happy.
The fact is, from now on, I'm committed to devoting all my time and effort to my children, doing everything I can to give them the kind of parenting every child deserves.
Hey, Dad, are there any more of these tequila truffles? (burps loudly) Back, you animals.
I don't want to have to tell you again.
I've got hollow-points.
(knocking) BOTH: Dad? Uh, Miss Pudnugget, a word, if you please.
Okay.
How about "available"? (chuckles): That's very funny.
What's not funny is this wildlife photography of a certain firm but pliant school mistress hitting the hay with a more than willing Mr.
Cow.
If you get my drift.
Now, if you'll guarantee Charles and Simba Mambo.
Whatever.
a big, juicy "A" in your class, I'll make sure these bossy glossies don't make it into the "Dairy Deviates" column in your high school paper.
Mr.
Duckman, these photographs are fakes.
Fakes?! Are you questioning my integrity as a blackmailer? Well, yes.
First off, my cow's bigger.
Second, a photo of my head has been crudely pasted over someone else's body.
(chuckles): My wife's been dead for a number of years now and Look, man to battle-ax: Either Charles and Mambo get an "A", or I hurt you.
Oh, I have a better idea.
I give them an "A", and you hurt me.
(laughing) Tee-hee.
Oh, dear, I can't keep up this ruse.
The truth is, Charles and Mambo already get As.
I'm just angling for a little booty boogaloo.
You already get As? Ah, never mind.
Boys, don't forget.
After school, I'm taking you to the mall for new underwear.
Then it's off to the hemorrhoid doctor for that bleaching you've needed for so long.
If you're good, you'll get lollies.
(groaning) Uh, Mr.
Duckman, I'll just hold onto the picture till tonight, say 7:00-ish by the barn? I'll bring my milking machine.
(purring) (screaming) (crowd cheering) Hop off the bench, Ajax.
No son of mine is going to get seat splinters.
Oh, Coach, a word.
Here's a 50.
Nod like I'm browbeating you.
Then put the kid in.
Raw talent like his can't go unpeeled! I demand that you put Ajax-- or, as we call him around the house, Bronco-- into this game at once.
Just show 'em who's boss, son.
I know they're bigger and stronger and better than you, but you've got something more important on your side.
Weapons? Psychology.
We'll throw them off their game.
I agree with you, Ajax! Those other players are a bunch of brainless, knuckle-dragging bohunks who get over-excited about showering together because they were emotionally shattered when they found out their mothers do it for doughnuts! Well put, son! (players growling) The good news is, thanks to certain non-FDA approved medications, I'll be all better tomorrow.
The bad news is, that's when the football team told me they're coming by to beat me up again.
Dad got the glee club to perform a tribute to us.
Then he bribed the other kids to elect us homecoming king.
And queen! It's humiliating.
Hello, beloved brood.
Grab a mitt and wheel Ajax out in the yard.
It's time to play ball.
BERNICE: Have you flipped your flap?! It's pitch black outside.
Mais non, mon petite hag-ola.
Voila! What do you think, kids? Woo-hoo! We're gonna play baseball every night, all night, for the rest of our lives! (honking) Hit some fungoes till I get back! DUCKMAN: Another 24 straight hours of being together, boys, because no dad of yours is going to end up in some med student's petri dish, not that that has anything to do with my almost maniacal campaign to have you worshiped like gods.
What the hell I mean, what is it I can do for you two soft and cuddly delights? Well, we heard you've been loving and attentive with your sons and we knew there was only one possible explanation.
You're on drugs.
What?! Mr.
Duckman, we feel it's our civic duty to administer a urine test.
Are you crazy?! I don't whiz in anything I can't sit on or swim in.
Wait.
On second thought, maybe you're right.
(toilet flushing) FLUFFY and URANUS: Oh, Mr.
Duckman! (burbling) Clean as a whistle.
So, let's go see Corny.
And remember: I haven't been in for a week.
Don't be surprised if it's as quiet as a party after you get everyone to de-pants your date and she turns out to be a transvestite.
What? It's a metaphor.
(phones ringing) I'll have your case solved by 6:00.
(speaking German) by 7:00.
(ululating) by 8:00.
What? I already found your father-in-law.
He'll be back by 9:00.
Go on home.
You got to do it sometime.
Oh.
Uh hi.
Completely, coincidental with your absence from the office, there was a mysterious upsurge in activity.
Probably sun spots.
What's important now is, I'm bonding with my boys, Corny.
I got 'em inked in for 18 hours of quality time a day and I think it's safe to say things are pretty hunky-dory at Casa Duckman.
(chuckles): Kids and their cute little death games.
I know nothing of your current situation, being shamefully under-used in this week's wacky adventure, but you might want to rethink what you're doing.
Insincere attempts to win a child's affection can cause his self-esteem to plummet until he drops out of school, has his vocal chords loosened to affect a deeper voice, then ends up being the only pig cage dancer in a waterfront leather bar or so I'm told.
(door slams) J'accuse, Duckman! This morning a hurricane destroyed our whole block.
Luckily, they've rebuilt all the houses exactly as they were before, but the wind opened all your mail, and I found this bill for talking to your mother through an electronic channeler! That's right! And don't try to tell me it wasn't her-- that image had her voice, her laugh, her amorphous blue shape.
I'm telling ya, I talked to her and I'd prove it if I could find the guy who did it, but the fair's over.
I have no idea where he is.
Mort Sidelman, 126 Elm Street.
New Age Yellow Pages.
BERNICE: Look, Mort, you got two minutes to cough up his phlegm-ball of a mother, or I'm turning you in to the Consumer Affairs Division of the Department of Touchy-Feely Fake Religions.
All right, all right, come with me.
I wonder how many towns she had to pillage to come back as that.
So, you got the photo? (whirring) Fly in the cosmic ointment, Swami Mort? It's probably just a loose wire.
The only thing loose around here is the screw in your head.
Oh, yeah? What about that hunk of flesh around your mid-section? (growls) (gasps) Help! (heart beating) (yells) Mom! Diaper Bag.
It's Duckman Oh, the hell with it.
It's not like anything I say matters to you! Oh, sorry.
Sorry, Mom.
I-I don't know where that came from, except that well, it's just that when you think about it, you never did pay much attention to anything I said or did.
I mean well, never mind.
I'm sorry.
Don't be sorry.
I'm sorry.
That's why I ended up like this.
I was too wrapped up in my own life to make any time for you.
You remember all those uncles who used to stay overnight and make all those screaming noises? I told you it was just them cheering for their favorite baseball team on TV? Well, they weren't really your uncles and there's no such team as the "Do-Me-Babies.
" Look, I I always liked men.
I like sex.
I hope that doesn't embarrass you.
I think liking sex is a healthy thing.
A plus, some would say, if you're a microorganism.
We multiply like crazy.
Unfortunately, we have to do it with ourselves.
Anyway the truth is, after your father died, I was lonely.
I missed him-- talking to him, touching him so I found replacements.
I went to parties, I met other men.
I didn't realize till it was too late that I I took away your mother.
I messed up.
I just hope, in time, you can find a way to forgive me.
(moaning) Geez! I thought death would be a little more stable.
Mom, what happened? You're a you're a snail.
I am? It's instant karma-- I've heard of this.
They give you a promotion if you do something to deserve it, like accepting the fact that you've made mistakes.
Of course, wherever I go, I'll still leave a trail of slime behind.
Yeah.
Well, me, too.
What do you mean? My kids-- I'm missing their lives, too.
Hey, do you have a picture? I mean, they are my grandchildren.
I should have a picture.
Oh, they're beautiful.
Oh it's what we do.
Mom I love you.
I love you, too Duckman.
Wait! Not yet! (grunts) I saw her! Did you see her? I saw my mother again.
At first, she was a germ, but then she was a snail and we talked and she said she loved me, and she ate a picture, and she's happy, and I'm happy, too! Told ya-- 100% legit.
More likely, Duckman received a blow on the anterior lobe of his cerebral cortex, producing a dream state into which he projected guilts, fantasies and desires, allowing him to see what he wanted to see.
Blather on, Sigmund Hog.
All I know is, my mom's okay and she told me she loves me.
Could it perhaps be another crystal-induced miracle? That's right.
Maybe the crystal helped Dad feel better about his mom.
Maybeit is a healing crystal.
Kids, it's time to change.
And this time, for all the right reasons.
From now on, I am the sun, and you are the planets I warm and nourish.
There's only so many moments we'll have together.
And I say we make the most of them.
You want to go to the park together? Sure.
Yeah.
That'd be great, Dad.
I'll go clean the crumbs off the back seat of the car first, because that way, your ride will be more comfortable.
I'm not sure I can live like this.
First chance we get, let's hit him with a sack of doorknobs.
Or a tire iron.
Yeah.
Well, maybe a crowbar.
Good idea.
To actually discover an ancient healing crystal in our own backyard.
Zut alors! and a horrible satanic beast are trapped inside its shimmering surface.
Ajax, that's you, and there's no satanic beast.
Shh! Come on, kids, I can't wait to have this analyzed at the New Age Fair today.
Ready to go? ALL: Yeah! Travel checklist.
Map? Ajax's car sickness bag? And it's still a few drops from capacity.
Grandma-ma's life-check mirror? (passing gas) ALL: She lives! Okay, one last, teeny-tiny almost-too-insignificant- to-mention thing.
Duckman! I guess none of you heard about the president's hang-from-a-ceiling-fan- for-peace program.
Look, Bernice, I have better things to do with my time than spend it at some New Age Fair with a bunch of mindless circus freaks.
If you prefer, Dad, we could walk a few steps behind you.
Not you, son.
I'm talking about the other mindless circus freaks.
Ah! This whole new age thing is just a bunch of mantra-chanting, incense-breathing, herb-sucking yahoos.
Whoa! It's all right, Connie.
Maury won't be home for hours.
For your information, new-agers are amongst the few brave enough to explore alternative mind states and discover past lives.
This, for instance, could have belonged to the mighty warrior-king Ramtha who ruled Atlantis when I, as his queen, lay at his feet, looking up at his hard, chiseled torso while he thrust his staff proudly into the air.
Yuck! I haven't been this nauseated since the last Harvey Keitel nude scene.
Here I always say, if you rub something and nothing happens, it's worthless.
Charles, Mandingo.
Mambo.
Whatever.
I can't believe you're buying this cosmic cow plop.
Actually, we're of two minds.
(both laughing) On the one hand, we're reluctant to shed our cold, scientific bias.
On the other hand, even we can't explain the miracles that we've come across in the three hours since we dug it up.
Like this bush that burns, but doesn't consume itself.
I must have snuffed out my cigarette there.
Next! There's a movie on USA tonight that doesn't have the word "murder" in the title.
Happens twice a year.
Next! What about all the new friends Gecko made after we took the crystal down the block to the pet cemetery? Duckman, it's time you took an interest in your children's interests.
Besides, I need someone to clean up after Ajax if he vomits on the escalator again.
It wouldn't be so bad if they had one of those nonelectric ones.
You mean a staircase? It seems like they have names for everything now.
MAN (on P.
A.
): The white zone is for the channeling and unchanneling of Aztec deities only.
How much, moonbeam? We believe that inflexible quantifications are demeaning to the human spirit.
The amount of your donation is set according to your aura.
Oh, well, I-I don't usually have this aura.
I was in a hurry this morning.
I may have missed the genitalia.
Your aura is a mystic reflection of your soul, okay? The essence of what is inside you.
(screaming) All right, it's free.
Boys, why don't you run off and get the crystal analyzed.
We'll meet over there at the Tut 2000 meditation pyramid.
Look, Grandma-ma.
Beauty secrets of the ancient Egyptians.
Wonder if they've got anything that can improve my Nefertitis.
(passing gas) (Bernice giggling) Oh, how refreshing.
Mmm, what a wonderful scent.
Must have some.
Ooh, ee, ooh, ah, ow.
Wonder where a duck can get a dog around here.
Sholem aleichem.
I'll have the dried twigs and swamp moss on a sesame seed bun.
I eat only macrobiotic foods.
That's why, although I'm 108 years old, I still have the bouncy demeanor of a high school cheerleader.
Hot pizza.
Eee! DUCKMAN: Hallelujah! (screams) (blows landing) A dozen pardons, mein swami.
I have traveled many days over hot sand and salty-tasting camel droppings to hear a tiny syllable of your wisdom.
And, while I'm at it, how about a slice? Hell, take the whole thing.
I got an ulcer sounds like a Moscow department store during a toilet paper sale.
Mort Sidelman.
You're a sport, Mort.
Name's Duckman.
You, uh, don't seem to be fishing out of the same stream of consciousness as the rest of these rubberheads.
What do I know from enlightened? I sign a 20-year lease on this booth and they relocate the auto show to Boise.
But what the hey? With reincarnation, I figure I'll get a lot of repeat customers.
(chuckling) "Reincarnation.
" They come back.
I'm still reading the instruction manual, but it seems the skinny is no one really dies.
Yeah? Well, I could have sworn I buried Mom right down the street at Plots-R-Us.
According to this, she's still kicking.
I wouldn't doubt it.
I told those bozos to check for a pulse.
You know, you tell 'em you got a styrofoam casket and a hooker doing makeup, they think they can cut corners.
No, what it's saying is, she's been reincarnated-- come back to earth in another body.
We might even be able to talk to her.
World's first electronic channeling machine.
Let's fire it up and see what happens.
You got a photo of your loved one? Yeah, but it's all sticky.
I Oh, Ma.
Ying-yang, yang-yin.
Bring forth the broad with the double chin.
It says here she might come back as a whole other life-form.
Hope you got some way to recognize her.
What the hell are you staring at? Mommy, it's really you! You're alive, but you look different somehow.
What is it? You lost weight? Changed your hair? Trimmed your eyebrows? I'm a highly infectious germ.
That's it.
Wow, I can't believe you're really here.
I thought it was some kind of trick, like the time you told me my bath was ready then had the whole bridge club wait behind the door with cameras.
But we could reminisce all day.
Tell me how you been.
Catch me up! We have so much to talk about.
First things first.
Who are you? (laughing) Oh, I'm teasing.
I know exactly who you are.
Wait.
Don't tell me.
You were always around my house.
I remember.
Dust Mop.
Duckman.
Whatever.
When you don't spend a lot of time at home, names of things tend to run together.
What happened, Mom? I mean, why are you a, you know, a? Diseased-wielding parasite? Karma.
Which is not to say I don't like being a germ.
I still go to all the best parties, the only difference is now I'm there to make people violently ill.
(chuckles weakly) I don't understand why this happened.
You were a good person.
What about all the things you did for me? Why, I remember them as clearly as if I were having a flashback.
I'm home, Mom.
Is that you, Dish Rag? Duckman.
Whatever.
Isn't there something you're usually doing around this time of day? I go to school, Mom, but I couldn't stay there.
They're mean to me.
They threw basketballs at me in gym class, pianos in music class, battery acid in shop! When did the school get a piano? Everyone hates me.
I get beat up and made fun of every day.
But you haven't lost your favorite earrings on the afternoon of the spring soiree, have you? Well, I'm off to the embassy.
I'm fairly certain I called the baby-sitter.
The party lasts through the weekend.
Then I'll just be taking an eensy-weensy trip around the world.
Ciao.
So you periodically abandoned me, skipped my graduation and wedding, missed the births of all your grandchildren and couldn't postpone the lambada cruise when I got hit by that bus and hovered on the brink of death for three months.
I never blamed you.
It isn't easy raising a child while you're ambassador to Luxembourg.
Oh, I forgot to tell you.
That was a lie.
I spent a lot of time at the embassy, but it was because they liked having me at their parties.
I was, you know fun.
Anyway, the cosmic pooh-bah decided I should be punished and here I am.
Ooh, my massage.
You'd think becoming an invertebrate would have helped my lower back.
Oh, well.
Good seeing you again, Dart Board.
Duckman.
Whatever.
Toodle-oo.
That was her.
That was my mom.
The woman who used to nurse me and rock me to sleep.
Well, once.
It isn't fair.
She deserves better than that.
Not according to the manual.
It's very clear about getting demoted if you neglect your kids.
Wait a minute.
I do that.
That means I could end up that way or worse! What's lower than germ? Slug, maggot, La Toya.
You're young enough, though.
You still got time to rack up a few points on the old cosmic scoreboard.
Well, at least I can try.
I mean, I am young.
I do have time to change.
It's not like I'm gonna die in the next five seconds.
(yelps) (car horns honking) I'm sorry yesterday's analysis proved inconclusive.
Us, too.
Apparently, it's either a mystic talisman offering a gateway to alternate realities Or debris from a failed called Liberace Land.
Oh, well, Who wants liver and whey muffins? My colon votes a hearty yes.
(gasps) (explosion) Rise and shine-ola, progeny of mine! Belly up to the breakfast bar courtesy of your ever-loving dad.
Turkey-gravy doughnuts.
Graham cracker and Mallomar pancakes.
And I highly recommend the fudge-ripple churros-- Whoa.
It's a festival of partially hydrogenated potassium lactylate.
I have no idea how I know that.
Plus, I got you video games, pogs, sizzling CDs by some of today's hottest and most sociopathic rap stars and, to top it off, rare, rookie season baseball cards featuring each of your favorite players.
Why do I picture an eight-year-old card collector tied up in a closet somewhere? Bernice, please.
Can't a father dote on his children without raising a few overly penciled eyebrows? Just knowing my love is recognized by them-- and any all-powerful being who happens to be looking in-- makes my heart burst with pride.
If they eat that binge bilge, their hearts will burst with thrombosis! Just so they die happy.
The fact is, from now on, I'm committed to devoting all my time and effort to my children, doing everything I can to give them the kind of parenting every child deserves.
Hey, Dad, are there any more of these tequila truffles? (burps loudly) Back, you animals.
I don't want to have to tell you again.
I've got hollow-points.
(knocking) BOTH: Dad? Uh, Miss Pudnugget, a word, if you please.
Okay.
How about "available"? (chuckles): That's very funny.
What's not funny is this wildlife photography of a certain firm but pliant school mistress hitting the hay with a more than willing Mr.
Cow.
If you get my drift.
Now, if you'll guarantee Charles and Simba Mambo.
Whatever.
a big, juicy "A" in your class, I'll make sure these bossy glossies don't make it into the "Dairy Deviates" column in your high school paper.
Mr.
Duckman, these photographs are fakes.
Fakes?! Are you questioning my integrity as a blackmailer? Well, yes.
First off, my cow's bigger.
Second, a photo of my head has been crudely pasted over someone else's body.
(chuckles): My wife's been dead for a number of years now and Look, man to battle-ax: Either Charles and Mambo get an "A", or I hurt you.
Oh, I have a better idea.
I give them an "A", and you hurt me.
(laughing) Tee-hee.
Oh, dear, I can't keep up this ruse.
The truth is, Charles and Mambo already get As.
I'm just angling for a little booty boogaloo.
You already get As? Ah, never mind.
Boys, don't forget.
After school, I'm taking you to the mall for new underwear.
Then it's off to the hemorrhoid doctor for that bleaching you've needed for so long.
If you're good, you'll get lollies.
(groaning) Uh, Mr.
Duckman, I'll just hold onto the picture till tonight, say 7:00-ish by the barn? I'll bring my milking machine.
(purring) (screaming) (crowd cheering) Hop off the bench, Ajax.
No son of mine is going to get seat splinters.
Oh, Coach, a word.
Here's a 50.
Nod like I'm browbeating you.
Then put the kid in.
Raw talent like his can't go unpeeled! I demand that you put Ajax-- or, as we call him around the house, Bronco-- into this game at once.
Just show 'em who's boss, son.
I know they're bigger and stronger and better than you, but you've got something more important on your side.
Weapons? Psychology.
We'll throw them off their game.
I agree with you, Ajax! Those other players are a bunch of brainless, knuckle-dragging bohunks who get over-excited about showering together because they were emotionally shattered when they found out their mothers do it for doughnuts! Well put, son! (players growling) The good news is, thanks to certain non-FDA approved medications, I'll be all better tomorrow.
The bad news is, that's when the football team told me they're coming by to beat me up again.
Dad got the glee club to perform a tribute to us.
Then he bribed the other kids to elect us homecoming king.
And queen! It's humiliating.
Hello, beloved brood.
Grab a mitt and wheel Ajax out in the yard.
It's time to play ball.
BERNICE: Have you flipped your flap?! It's pitch black outside.
Mais non, mon petite hag-ola.
Voila! What do you think, kids? Woo-hoo! We're gonna play baseball every night, all night, for the rest of our lives! (honking) Hit some fungoes till I get back! DUCKMAN: Another 24 straight hours of being together, boys, because no dad of yours is going to end up in some med student's petri dish, not that that has anything to do with my almost maniacal campaign to have you worshiped like gods.
What the hell I mean, what is it I can do for you two soft and cuddly delights? Well, we heard you've been loving and attentive with your sons and we knew there was only one possible explanation.
You're on drugs.
What?! Mr.
Duckman, we feel it's our civic duty to administer a urine test.
Are you crazy?! I don't whiz in anything I can't sit on or swim in.
Wait.
On second thought, maybe you're right.
(toilet flushing) FLUFFY and URANUS: Oh, Mr.
Duckman! (burbling) Clean as a whistle.
So, let's go see Corny.
And remember: I haven't been in for a week.
Don't be surprised if it's as quiet as a party after you get everyone to de-pants your date and she turns out to be a transvestite.
What? It's a metaphor.
(phones ringing) I'll have your case solved by 6:00.
(speaking German) by 7:00.
(ululating) by 8:00.
What? I already found your father-in-law.
He'll be back by 9:00.
Go on home.
You got to do it sometime.
Oh.
Uh hi.
Completely, coincidental with your absence from the office, there was a mysterious upsurge in activity.
Probably sun spots.
What's important now is, I'm bonding with my boys, Corny.
I got 'em inked in for 18 hours of quality time a day and I think it's safe to say things are pretty hunky-dory at Casa Duckman.
(chuckles): Kids and their cute little death games.
I know nothing of your current situation, being shamefully under-used in this week's wacky adventure, but you might want to rethink what you're doing.
Insincere attempts to win a child's affection can cause his self-esteem to plummet until he drops out of school, has his vocal chords loosened to affect a deeper voice, then ends up being the only pig cage dancer in a waterfront leather bar or so I'm told.
(door slams) J'accuse, Duckman! This morning a hurricane destroyed our whole block.
Luckily, they've rebuilt all the houses exactly as they were before, but the wind opened all your mail, and I found this bill for talking to your mother through an electronic channeler! That's right! And don't try to tell me it wasn't her-- that image had her voice, her laugh, her amorphous blue shape.
I'm telling ya, I talked to her and I'd prove it if I could find the guy who did it, but the fair's over.
I have no idea where he is.
Mort Sidelman, 126 Elm Street.
New Age Yellow Pages.
BERNICE: Look, Mort, you got two minutes to cough up his phlegm-ball of a mother, or I'm turning you in to the Consumer Affairs Division of the Department of Touchy-Feely Fake Religions.
All right, all right, come with me.
I wonder how many towns she had to pillage to come back as that.
So, you got the photo? (whirring) Fly in the cosmic ointment, Swami Mort? It's probably just a loose wire.
The only thing loose around here is the screw in your head.
Oh, yeah? What about that hunk of flesh around your mid-section? (growls) (gasps) Help! (heart beating) (yells) Mom! Diaper Bag.
It's Duckman Oh, the hell with it.
It's not like anything I say matters to you! Oh, sorry.
Sorry, Mom.
I-I don't know where that came from, except that well, it's just that when you think about it, you never did pay much attention to anything I said or did.
I mean well, never mind.
I'm sorry.
Don't be sorry.
I'm sorry.
That's why I ended up like this.
I was too wrapped up in my own life to make any time for you.
You remember all those uncles who used to stay overnight and make all those screaming noises? I told you it was just them cheering for their favorite baseball team on TV? Well, they weren't really your uncles and there's no such team as the "Do-Me-Babies.
" Look, I I always liked men.
I like sex.
I hope that doesn't embarrass you.
I think liking sex is a healthy thing.
A plus, some would say, if you're a microorganism.
We multiply like crazy.
Unfortunately, we have to do it with ourselves.
Anyway the truth is, after your father died, I was lonely.
I missed him-- talking to him, touching him so I found replacements.
I went to parties, I met other men.
I didn't realize till it was too late that I I took away your mother.
I messed up.
I just hope, in time, you can find a way to forgive me.
(moaning) Geez! I thought death would be a little more stable.
Mom, what happened? You're a you're a snail.
I am? It's instant karma-- I've heard of this.
They give you a promotion if you do something to deserve it, like accepting the fact that you've made mistakes.
Of course, wherever I go, I'll still leave a trail of slime behind.
Yeah.
Well, me, too.
What do you mean? My kids-- I'm missing their lives, too.
Hey, do you have a picture? I mean, they are my grandchildren.
I should have a picture.
Oh, they're beautiful.
Oh it's what we do.
Mom I love you.
I love you, too Duckman.
Wait! Not yet! (grunts) I saw her! Did you see her? I saw my mother again.
At first, she was a germ, but then she was a snail and we talked and she said she loved me, and she ate a picture, and she's happy, and I'm happy, too! Told ya-- 100% legit.
More likely, Duckman received a blow on the anterior lobe of his cerebral cortex, producing a dream state into which he projected guilts, fantasies and desires, allowing him to see what he wanted to see.
Blather on, Sigmund Hog.
All I know is, my mom's okay and she told me she loves me.
Could it perhaps be another crystal-induced miracle? That's right.
Maybe the crystal helped Dad feel better about his mom.
Maybeit is a healing crystal.
Kids, it's time to change.
And this time, for all the right reasons.
From now on, I am the sun, and you are the planets I warm and nourish.
There's only so many moments we'll have together.
And I say we make the most of them.
You want to go to the park together? Sure.
Yeah.
That'd be great, Dad.
I'll go clean the crumbs off the back seat of the car first, because that way, your ride will be more comfortable.
I'm not sure I can live like this.
First chance we get, let's hit him with a sack of doorknobs.
Or a tire iron.
Yeah.
Well, maybe a crowbar.
Good idea.