01x05 - Gland of Opportunity

[bunniefuu]

[whistles]

[quacks]

[rhythmic beeping]
MAN: From what I can see, Dave,

it's not flowing
in at all.

There's heavy clogging in
several of the main arteries.

DAVE:
Well, Tom, I suppose

this is an all too
inevitable response

to the stress of
everyday life.

Hey, right you are, Dave.
[horns honking]

Tens of thousands of people
escaping the rat race

for the stress-free solitude

of Castle Kingdom
Amusement Park.

[angry shouting]
We're live via helicopter

with the KPOV
drive-time report.

Let's take a look
at how this blistering heat

is affecting things.

[horns honking,
radiators hissing]

[popping]
Uh-oh!

[popping]

[expl*si*n]

[horns honking]

I think my keen eye
for news

is about
to pay off, Dave.

I'm getting a report of
a possible grand mal seizure

in one of the cars
blocked in traffic.

I'll radio an ambulance

after I give our viewers
a close-up

of something they have
no right to be privy to.

It's a gas pedal, diaper-butt!

It won't bite!
Move it! Move it!

Where is a forklift
when you need one?

"D" is for drive, dipstick!

Ooh, refresh me...

Middle finger straight up
mean a left turn in this state?!

What the hell
are you staring at?!

[horns honking]

Bad enough I gotta be stuck
out here,

I don't need some busybody
sticking his face

into something
that's none of his business.

Shazam!
Lady, those things real

or did you have to pay
to make them point that way?!

Duckman, pipe down!

You're embarrassing us!

Embarrassing you?

I think you got
the jump on me there

the day you decided spandex
was a good look for you.

[gasps]

Wait, Aunt Bernice.

Perhaps you'd like to put off
thrashing Dad until after

he's paid
our admission.

Thank you, son.

CHARLES:
Dad, I think Aunt Bernice's
ultimate concern

is the example you're setting
for your children.

At ten, ten, and 15,

we're still subject
to emulating

even the most crass and
reprehensible behavior

of our significant elders.

Including smoking!

Right. Like my cigarettes
are really hurting anyone.

[expl*si*n, people screaming]

[brass fanfare playing]

[roller coaster rumbling]

[fanfare continues playing]

Hi, everyone.
Welcome to Castle Kingdom...

the land of magic, merriment,
and make-believe.

Remember: no smoking,
no littering,

no eating on rides,
no public displays of affection,

no black socks and sandals,

no percentage of the gross,
no interracial dating,

no tantrums,
no visible butt cleavage,

and no on Proposition 24.

No hands!
[water splashing]

Hey, everyone, look.

We've inadvertently
found ourselves on line

for the Dragon of Death.

No way!
I don't care what it's for,

we're not waiting in this line!

Ah, why not?

Come on, Dad.

It's the most popular ride
in the park, Dad.

The other kids are doing it.

And if the other kids jumped off
a cliff, would you?

How many of them?

AJAX:
* A hundred and nine thousand,
six hundred *

* And fifty-two
bottles of beer on the wall *

* A hundred and nine thousand,
six hundred *

* And fifty-two
bottles of beer... *

Family, awake!

We're next!
Huh?

Yuck! What the..?

Damn it, Bernice!

You let another bird
build a nest in your mouth!

Mambo, look, the park is open
for 12 more minutes!

We're actually going
to get on a ride!

Oh, boy, oh, boy, oh,
boy, oh, boy, oh, boy!

Nothing can stop us now!

[people shouting]

Gangway! Rich and famous
celebrity coming through.

Come on, come on, move it!

[grunting]

Hey, come back here, you
steroid-sucking chrome domes!

I don't care who he is,
you picked the wrong duck

to knock down and walk all over!

You the duck we knocked down
and walked all over?

He sure is!

And he says,
"You picked the wrong d..."

[chuckles nervously]
Kids...

Get trampled,
break a rib or two...

they get the crazy idea
it's a bad thing.

Mail this general release form
preventing you from suing for:

...and sh**ting your dog
for the sheer fun of it,

and you get a free 8x10 glossy
of my boss, Vile Kyle.

ALL:
Vile Kyle?

Ooh... that man
makes my elbows sweat.

Vile Kyle?
Never heard of him.

Dad, he's a world-famous
daredevil and self-promoter.

You know, they guy who
jumped over the Grand Canyon,

the Twin Towers...

and, in his recent "thank
you to my fans" special,

flew his rocket car

over 250 fawning volunteers.

He would have made it
if it wasn't for that headwind.

Vile Kyle.
You haven't seen brave

till you've seen me
tame a roller coaster!

[all gasp]
Huh?

[people retching]

[nervous chuckle]

You know, these sissy rides
just aren't scary enough.

I'll just go over there
and do something more exciting.

[chuckles nervously]
Like pick my teeth.

Hmm. I guess Duckman's
really Chickenman.

[all laughing]

AJAX:
He's sure no Vile Kyle.

MAMBO:
He is a less-than-
ideal role model.

[cats yowling]

[evil laughter]

Whoa, whoa, hey!
What th...?

Let me off this thing!

Sit back, my child.

You don't want to get hurt.

Hey, listen, Sister, the only
thing that's going to hurt me

on this wimp-mobile
is an act of God.

[metallic rattling,
Duckman grunts]

[man groaning]

Who the hell are you?

The doctor.

At least until I've exhausted
all the pills

Doctor? Oh, yeah, right...

I, uh, hit my head while
rescuing the baby from that...

you know... runaway, uh...
burning thing.

Actually,
your head is fine.

But we discovered you had
comprehensive health insurance

so we ran hundreds
of expensive tests

to see what else
we could come up with.

The good news is you don't
have a yeast infection.

Oh, you do, however,

need an immediate
adrenal gland transplant.

Adrenal gland transplant?!

What the hell are you
trying to pull here?

I want a second opinion!

Oh... no, no,
no, no, no.

I've been down
that road before.

Better-educated
and equipped doctors

telling my patients
they're fine and then what?!

They never come back!

I have proof--
proof--

of your condition.
Here's your EKG.

Here's where I remembered
to plug it in.

I didn't get around
to a blood test,

but, hey, the sight
of that stuff

makes me blow lunch anyway.

I did run cat scans,
MRIs, and urine tests.

And as you can see,
they are all conclusive.

I'm surprised
you never noticed any symptoms.

Are you
sometimes irritable?

What's it to you,
butt-head?!

Do you lack energy?

No way. After a
three, four hour nap

and some prescription
dr*gs, I'm raring to go.

Do you ever want to mud wrestle
with sumo waitresses?

What?
Well, actually,
that's not a symptom.

I belong to a little club

and we're looking
for new members.

Really?!
[clears throat]: I mean, well...

Well, you know, coincidentally,

we just got a fresh
adrenal gland.

Shall we get started
with the slice and dice?

Wait a minute! Hold it!
I got a thing about operations.

Ever since
that little appendectomy mishap.

Good thing I already had kids.

["Greensleeves" melody]:
* Here lies your dad *

* He got hurt on the rides *
[bell jingling]

* We'll cut open his chest
and pull out his insides... *

Dad! Dad!

Are you all right?

We heard what happened.

Shh. Don't disturb your father.

He's still recovering
from his death-defying ride

on Mr. Cottontail's Bunny Hop!

[howling laughter]

I don't know how else
to break this to you...

your father needs a
new adrenal gland.

Oh, my God!

Look, the gland I got
is fine the way it is,

and that's that, okay?

But, Dad, the lack
of a sufficient adrenal gland

may explain why you were scared

to go on the Dragon of Death
with us.

Not to mention the hundred
other ways fear and laziness

have kept you from doing
things we can look up to.

But I don't want
someone else's gland in my body.

I could change.

I could become
a totally different person,

completely unrecognizable
to anyone who knows me.

What's the down side?

[laughing]
AUNT BERNICE:
Chickenman.

AJAX:
He's sure no Vile Kyle.

MAMBO:
He is a less-than-ideal
role model.

DUCKMAN:
How come you hear these voices
in your head every week?

Okay, Doc, let's do it.

You're letting me go in?!

I mean, wise choice.

Nurse! Scalpel!

Clamp! Suction!

I'll be okay, right, Doc?

The-The kids will like
the new me.

Of course, they will.

This time,
I know I'll get it right.

[vacuum cleaner running,
Charles and Mambo crying]

He's gone! Gone!

Snatched away at his peak.

We didn't even
[sniffles]

get a chance
to say good-bye.

Or tell him how much
we really loved him.

Hey, don't cry.

I came through. I'm okay.

Who gives a rat's butt?!

We're talking about Vile Kyle.

He d*ed at the park yesterday
right before you got hurt.

A bunch of hungry nuns

accidentally knocked him
into a snack stand.

He fell into the
cotton candy machine

and d*ed in a cocoon
of spun sugar.

[shuddering groan]

Another senseless,
religion-based confection death.

DUCKMAN:
Wait a minute.

Vile Kyle d*ed
right before I got hurt?

The doctor said
there was a fresh donor.

That must mean
I got Vile Kyle's gland.

Wow. The adrenal gland
of a daredevil!

And you know what?
I do feel different.

In fact, I'm starting to get
the strangest urges.

You said you'd see a therapist
if those ever came back.

Not those urges.

I'll be back faster
than you can say turbocharge.

[hammer pounding]

Hey, love to rebuild the garage,
but I'm off to work.

Bah! Why slow myself down
with a car?

[running footsteps]

I'm here.
What do you got for me?

Things, stuff,
more things and stuff?

Mr. Duckman...

Save it!
You'd love to say something

disgustingly cute, cuddly
and politically correct,

then I'll get PO'd and commit
an unthinkably brutal act.

Let's cut to the chase.

[expl*si*n]

Morning, pig o' my heart.
It's a new day.

Everything's different.
Everything's changed.

I got an adrenal gland
transplant from Vile Kyle.

I got all his energy,
his strength, his courage.

Hut, hut, hut!

[yells, glass breaking]

Not to mention his eye
for judging distances.

So I'm a little
new at it.

The point is I'm ready to att*ck
life with a new abandon.

I got thrills to seek,
deaths to defy,

mattress tags to tear off.

You realize, of course,
science would frown at the idea

that a glandular
transplant

could manifest
into behavioral change.

Can it and sell it
to someone else, bacon boy.

If I were interested in science,

I wouldn't have spent
all that classroom time

in the p*rn arcade.

Then perhaps you'd like to focus
your new-found energy

on the person who just called us
about a case.

Caller's name?
Doris Applebottom.

Someone stole her six-year-old
daughter's Tinkling Tammy doll.

Suspects?

Little Timmy Tupperman,
the boy next door.

Motive?
She pulled his pants down

in front of
her first grade class.

When will people learn?

Let's polka!

[women laughing]

[phones ringing]
Duckman Investigations.
Please hold.

Duckman Investigations.
Please hold.

Duckman Investiga...

[distant siren wailing]

Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Mm-hmm.

Ah, gentlemen, the m*rder*r
has left us his calling card.

This soil
is only found in one place.

Your backyard!

[gasps]

[laughs]

Please hold,
please hold.

Yes, ma'am,
please hold.

Please hold.
Please hold.
Please hold.

Judging by the hair sample

I found nestled
in the carpet weave,

the culprit is...

you!

Sir Edmund
Patten Vags.

I say, old chap,
how did you know?

I didn't... till now.

Take him away!

BOTH [rapidly]:
Duckman, please hold.

Duckman, please hold.
Duckman, please hold.

[squealing]

Have a souvenir.

[French accent]:
Ah, Monsieur Duckman!

So good to see you again.

Our finest table.

DUCKMAN:
Save it for the
tourists, Fritz.

I'll take that table.

The light's better.

But they have
just been served.

Perfect.

We'll have what they're
having... literally.

[laughing]

[popping, people gasping]

Rad, Dad.
Wow!

k*ller.

Your table, sir,
and naturally

we will still bill
everything to them

because you are Duckman.

[laughing]

We shared a moment, Fritz.
It's over. b*at it.

But of course.

[popping]

Duckman's bread!

[all shouting]

[clears throat]

Mr. Duckman, sir?
Excuse me.

My wife is a great
admirer of yours.

In fact, she's something
of an amateur detective.

Zoiks! If you ask me,
she's something of an eyesore.

Well, would it be
too much trouble

for you to ask
her to dance?

Sorry. Haven't had my sh*ts.

Jesus marimba!

Who's the talent?

[slurping]
That's my daughter.

Well, thank God
for hospital mix-ups.

Tell me, Casper,
how old is she?

Fourteen.

Ouch.

All right, bring her
to my place in two years.

Make it four.
I like them with experience.

Okay, go on, finish your paper
route or something.

You're blocking
my breeze.

Hurrah, hut, two, three!

Impressive.
Bumpin'

Sweet, Dad.

Duckman, I'm loathe to admit it

but I'm a bit stirred
by your behavior.

Yecch! You're loathe?!

[giggling]:
Oh, no.

What I mean is
you seem to be commanding

more respect
from your children.

Yeah, Dad, who would
have ever thought

you'dbecome
a good role model?

I can't believe how
much things have changed.

We're not even ashamed
to be sitting with you

when you're picking
at your underwear in public.

Ah, yes.

Well, high praise indeed.

And let me say how gratifying
it is to hear it.

For all I ever wanted to be
was an ideal role model--

a shining example of someone
my children could look up to.

Fritz! Dessert!

[popping]

[gasps, crying]

Much as I appreciate

the official--
and no doubt valuable--

Duckman thermos, Bernice,

it doesn't make up for the fact

that these children
have been spending

a great deal of time
in this office.

We like the decor.

Except it needs
more mauve.

[kids laughing]

Early on
I had dreams of being a dancer.

[all gasping]

Same desk, same chair,
same thirst for authority

over people smaller than you.

Your wife pick out
that suit?
[kids whooping]

Duckman, you're
half an hour late.

And I should be feeling
what exactly?

Duckman, there seems
to be a serious problem

with our children...

But first tell us all
about your latest case.

Please, Bernice, you know
how I hate to brag.

Simply smashing
another crime ring for a world

that's just a little bit better
off 'cause I'm around.

Be that as it may,

your children have been
bullying students,

taking their lunches,
pinching girls

and throwing money around.

I'm a busy man.
Get to the problem.

But that is the problem.

And every time
they're confronted

they just say,
"We can do anything we want.

Our father is Duckman."

Look, you overpaid babysitter,

so what if they're proud
of their old man?

So what
if they think they're special?

They are special!
They're my kids!

That makes them special!

If my father had taken
this kind of interest in me,

who knows?

You know what
the real problem is?

They're bored.
There's no challenge here.

Just like me and my cases.

I solve them one, two, three,
and then what?

Seven?
Close enough.

See, these kids have had all
the formal education they need.

Besides, where are they going
to use all these useless facts?

Who cares that South Dakota
was a Confederate state?

It's time to start learning
from the school of life,

and who better to teach them

than their adventurous, slash,
liver of life father?

Let's go, kids.

It's time to soak up some world.

I'm quitting my job
and taking you

out of this worthless
social institution.

[cheering]

Well, they can always find
rewarding careers

in the fast-food industry.

Hup. Yoo-hoo!

[yelling]

Whaa!
[laughing]

Just wanted
a little off the top.

[speaking Chinese]

Yo, Duckman!

[cheering]

Remember, kids, "fear" is a word

that doesn't belong
in your vocabulary.

[gasping]

[cheering]

[phone rings]

MAN:
Coroner's office.
Over three million exhumed.

Good morning, ma'am.
I'm Pig.

Detective Cornfed Pig.

I need to see the body
of Vile Kyle.

Sorry, Mr. Pig,
I can't just let anyone

who comes in off the street
wanting to see the corpse

of a dead action hero

have free rein
around the place.

We run a very tight
operation here.

I understand.

Ma'am, would it be forward
to tell you

that your voice
is of the Sirens,

your breath is of the lilacs,

and your skin is of the soft
downy wool of a newborn lamb?

Yes, it would.

What if I told you
you had a great rack?

Oh. You're just saying that.

[chain saw buzzing]

[gasping]

Follow me,
you little deviled ham.

[smacking lips]

Tragic... yet yummy.

Hmm, no scars.

That means he still
has his adrenal gland.

A friend of mine's nutsy Fagin

because he thinks
he has Vile Kyle's gland.

There was an adrenal gland
transplant that day.

It came
from a dyslexic accountant

who got run over
by that ambulance

that was on its way
to save a duck.

So, Duckman never did have
Vile Kyle's gland,

which means in 15 minutes
he and his kids

are going to attempt
an incredibly dangerous stunt

where he'll probably
plummet to his death

on national television
unless I stop it.

Got time for a quickie?

Sure. Those things
never start on time.

Hello. This is
Ahmad Hashad Rhish Kebab

high atop the tallest skyscraper
on the west side

where Duckman
will attempt the impossible--

riding a unicycle
across a ten-pound test line

while wearing a lead suit

and carrying his sons
on a balance pole.

[high-pitched whistling]

[expl*si*n]

CHARLES:
Dad, this is the best time
of our young lives.

We've learned so much more
out here with you

than we ever did in school.

Thing like, it's fun
to be fawned over

by drooling sycophants,
and if you're big enough

people will have
to put up with you.

Dad, just in case
this is our final

ten minutes of quality
time together,

do you have any last words we
can take through life with us?

Live fast, die young

and always take
carry-on luggage

'cause baggage lines
are usually pretty long.

Sometimes people have to fill
out those little address labels

and then you end up running
all the way to the plane.

ALL:
Thanks, Dad.

Got the lead on,
now let's get the lead out.

[crowd chanting]:
Duckman! Duckman! Duckman!

[Cornfed panting]

Duckman, sorry I'm late

but the elevator's
broken.

You ran up


I guess that would
have been easier

than climbing the
side of the building.

Look, I have to tell you
something important.

You have the adrenal gland

of a accountant
who was dyslexic.

"Bulltish."
I'll prove it to you.

Vile Kyle d*ed by the grassy
knoll at 9:48 p.m.

Yet your adrenal gland operation
took place at 10:01 p.m.

on the other side
of the amusement park

by the book depository.

Are we to actually believe
that this magic gland

made it from his body to yours

within 13 minutes?
I think not.

That's why I propose
the second gland theory.

You mean,
I'm not really a daredevil,

a hero to millions,
a role model to my kids?

In your desire to
be a better father,

you over-compensated
using the gland transplant

as an excuse for living a lie

and performing increasingly
stupid, harebrained

and jackass stunts,
endangering your own life

and now your children's.

Not that it doesn't have
a certain entertainment value.

Call this off, Duckman,
before it's too late.

I can't, Corny,
I'd let down my kids.

This would crush them.

For the first time
in their lives

they actually look up to me,
they think I'm brave,

they think I'm a good father.

A good father is a father
who's alive to be a father

and whose real bravery comes
in saying no to his kids,

daring to be unliked
by doing the right thing.

[crowd chanting]:
Do it! Do it! Do it!

Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!

[sighs]

Kids, we're not going
to go through with this.

Not going through
with it?!
What do you mean?

You can't do this to us!

I said no!
[kids gasp]

Sorry, but I'm not going
to do it.

MAN:
He's not going to do it?!

[crowd shouting]

You know, I'm glad I came
to my senses in time.

This isn't about fans
or adulation or blind praise.

It's about family.

I don't have to k*ll myself
to get the respect of my kids.

They'll still love me
even if I'm not a daredevil.

Right, boys?

[crickets chirping]

[birds chirping]

Oh, look,
time for school already.

Got to go re-enroll.

Hope I remember
what grade I'm in.

Ah, well.

Deep down inside,
they're still proud of me.

At least you two know that,
right?

[crickets chirping]