04x02 - Coolio Runnings

[bunniefuu]

[duck quacks]

[cars honking outside]

Gasp.

Excuse my uncharacteristic,

near-dementia level
of excitement,

but I seem to have solved
the FitzWalter case.

I proved that his wife
is part of a sinister conspiracy

involving the
international arms trade,

a renegade band
of Cuban drug runners

and three members of the cast
of Friends.

Corny, what's a three-letter
word

meaning "opposite of night"?

Oy.

Hmm. Two Y's?

Mr. Duckman,
the IRS called again,

and in the interest
of full disclosure,

we've collected
all your receipts

for the past 15 years.

We're not sure
it's deductible.

Should we

send it anyway?

Oh, why, certainly.

Being open and honest

with government agencies

that want to put me in prison
for the rest of my life

is one of my passions.

Why don't you fax it
to them-- in person!

[both screaming]

[screaming]

[muffled screaming]

Now, where was I?

"Two-letter word
that's a common greeting."

BERNICE:
Prepare to die,
you pus-colored canker sore

on the mouth of humanity!

Hmm, too many letters.

Whoa!

This is your son,
Duckman.

Please, it's depressing enough
that we're related.

He's deeply unhappy
and you know why?

Okay, so I should
have asked

before selling
his rabbits
for testing,

but, damn it,
mascara makers
got to live, too.

Tell him.

I'm unhappy because
deconstructionism has lost much

of its moral force as a
technique in literary analysis.

Also because Dad won't play
in the father/son picnic games.

See?!

Well, as it happens,

I've been lusting
for the chance

to bond with my son
by passing him

an orange with my neck,

but Corny and I are
in the middle

of a very important case.

[sobbing]:
Please leave.

[snorts]:
I'll do anything.

Please, just go.

Get out. Get out, please!

[shuddering]

Male menopause.

Good news, son!

A small block of time
just opened up,

and I want you to know

that aside from other things
I'd rather do,

there's nothing I'd rather do
than spend that time with you.

[car engine revving]

Look at that weaselly
psychiatrist Stein.

He thinks he's so hot

just 'cause his son
can bend his knees

and breathe at the same time.

I'll show him.

Practicing for
the picnic games, huh?

Well, my boy Ajax
is such a jock,

he's already been indicted
for gambling.

I'm sure he's
very talented.

You saying Ajax
is a klutz?

A clod? A mud-hugger?
An elbow-eater?

A blinking bumbling boob who'll
make a fool out of himself

and more important-- me,
every time he tries
to move a muscle--

assuming he has one?

Well, a hundred says
me and my kid

will clobber you
and your kid in the games.

Mr. Duckman...

You calling me cheap?

Two hundred.

I have no
desire to bet.

That's it! 500 and the deed
to my house.

Well, not my house,

it's my wife's house,
only she's dead,

and she gave it to Bernice,

but I pay rent on it--
or at least I did once or twice.

Okay, once.
Okay, the check bounced.

Okay, forget the deed
to the house.

Make it 550.

How did he do that?

Damn shrinks
and their mind games.

Ajax, son, do you have any
athletic ability at all?

Sometimes, late at night,
I can smell my intestines.

Is that an event?

Exhibition only
this year.

Damn.

[school bell ringing]

[kids chattering]

Excuse me.

Do I sit anywhere?

This section is reserved
for people

with just one name.

I'm Ajax.

Coolio.

Have a seat.

Excuse me, Coolio,

but I couldn't
help noticing

that you look a lot older
than the other students.

Are you really stupid?

Actually, I'm a fabulously
wealthy recording artist

who's sold over
two million albums

and had two #1 singles.

Oh. I'm really stupid.

Didn't you go
to high school?

Valedictorian,
but I don't have a diploma.

Why not?

Lost it. Moved a lot.

So it's been a while

since you were
in high school.

You know, I'm kind
of an expert.

It's my third year
in this grade

so maybe I can give you
some advice.

Always remember:
It's not raise your hand

before going to the bathroom.

It's raise your hand, walk
to the area with the toilets

then go to the bathroom.

Got it. When's recess?

[chattering]

Yeah, Manny.

Oh, I'm fine.

Look, I got to ask you to cancel
the concert tonight.

I have homework.

Okay. Now, how do I tell him?

It's got to be done delicately,
with sensitivity...

"Son, how you drop out
of the games is up to you--

"crippling injury,
communicable disease--

whatever makes you happy,
just so you're home Sunday."

Ajax!

Hi.

"Hi," that's it!

Damn, I'm good.

Look out.

That girl's going to get hit.

[crowd cheering]

He saved her life.

She could have been k*lled.

I wonder if he's that fast
in a gunnysack.

Mr. Duckman, if you're here
about placing your kids

in an orphanage again,
we can't help you.

Your sister-in-law
won't allow it.

Oh, yes, my sister-in-law

always has the boys'
best interests in mind,

especially when she's
parading around in front of them

stinking drunk with nothing on
but the radio,

but I digress,

for today I've come
about another matter.

You see, I want
to adopt a child.

No, not really a child,
a... a man,

and to make your
minimum-wage job even easier,

I know exactly which man
I want to adopt--

the mega-popular
singing superstar Coolio.

Now, while his parents
still being alive

might present a few,
you know, problemos,

I'm not above
a little snip-snip

to the old brake lines,
if you dig my lingo.

[yells]

Wow! They really do make it
difficult to adopt these days.

Well, now what am I
supposed to do?

Those picnic games
are three days away,

and I'm stuck with a son who's
got the motor skills of a mummy

and to make things worse,
there's that damned bet.

Everywhere I go, the specter
of that diabolical Dr. Stein

follows me,
laughing, laughing...

Ha ha.

My plan is
working perfectly

for you are my puppet

and I,
the puppet master.

Ha ha.

No! Stop! Get out
of my head, Stein!

Nobody calls me a puppet

except my actual
puppet master, capisce?

Oh, my.

You can't sit
out here and swat

at imaginary
thought balloons all day.

Here. If you want
to gain custody

of a full-grown adult,

just get him
to sign this waiver.

[Duckman sobbing loudly]

[sniffling]

Hey, cheer up,
mister.

Like my grandma
used to say:

"When life gives
you lemons,

make lemonade."

She sounds like she was
a wonderful woman.

You must
miss her terribly.

Not at all. She lives
just a few blocks...

Oh, why must those
we love die?!

Why must they
leave us so alone?

Wait. You're Ajax's
father, aren't you?

You're not alone.

But I have so much
love to share,

too much for one son.

Ajax says he's got
two brothers.

One, three-- you can't
reduce this to numbers.

There's no room for your
famous Vulcan logic in this.

This is about something
you feel here!

What is this, cashmere?

So much love to give!

If loving fatherhood
is a crime,

then I'm guilty
with special circumstances.

Ajax is a really
sweet kid.

You must be
a great father.

If only I could
find someone,

someone who needs a father
like me in his life,

who needs love
and companionship.

But who? Who?

Well... there are orphans.

You?

Why, that's crazy.

You already
have parents.

Still, it might work.
I mean, you're right.

It would be
no disrespect to them

to make this humble heart
of mine sing once more,

to give my life new meaning

by allowing me to spread

just a little more love
in this world

to sign this bothersome,
yet necessary, legal form

that will indemnify me
from all lawsuits

in the event of death
or injury while in my care,

or I could use it
to write my farewell note.

No, no, no, no!
Please, please.

I'll sign.

Oh, bless you!
Bless you!

You don't know
how hap-- and there--

how happy this--
and initial here--

how my life
has been--

press hard; you're
making three copies--

...made complete!

Here you go, Mr. Duckman.

Please.

Call me "Da-da."

[door opening]

Guess who's coming
to dinner?

[gasps]

It's C-C-C-C...

C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C...

CHARLES:
Before you swallow
your tongue,

Aunt Bernice,
we'll say it for you.

It's...
The guy from my class
who's not stupid.

Otherwise known
as Coolio,

and for reasons
known only to me

and the good Lord above,

he's agreed
to become my new son.

Coolio will be
living here?

My be-all
and end-all?

My alpha and omega?
[straining]

A man whose
streetwise scowl

hides a heart
with more gold

than there is
in his posse's teeth?

Whatever you need,
whether it's fast money,

loose chicks
or theological discourse,

you come straight to your
dear old ducky Dad.

He's so cute!

Strap on the feed bag, my boy.

You'll need your strength

when Ajax and I start
training tomorrow morning.

Um, Dad, why will
baby brother Coolio

need his strength
when you and I
are training?

Coolio will train
with you, pushing you on

to greater
and greater heights

by strictly
coincidentally

practicing
the very same games

that you'll be practicing.

[grunts]

I think my lung
just collapsed.

If it's all right,

I'll be lying prostrate
in my room.

Oh, right...
your room.

Uh, Coolio has
taken it over

but don't worry.

I moved your stuff
to the biggest room

of them all--
God's bedroom.

Better get
out there, son.

I think I saw
a couple of chipmunks

doing it inside
your pillow case.

Thanks, Dad.

If you'd like, you could
stay in my bedroom.

Uh-uh, sonny boy.

That way lies madness.

We got us
some bonding to do,

and this time, I won't
even use any epoxy.

Hey, Dad, I can't wait
for the games tomorrow.

I've been practicing
the sack race all morning.

Watch.

Ow... ow...

Ajax, I've got some bad news.

Well, bad for you,
good for me.

Ajax, after pretending to give
this a great deal of thought,

I've decided to choose Coolio
for my partner in the games.

[gasping]

No, no,
before you
say anything,

let me just assure you,

my original plan was
to think of some incredible lie

to let you down easy

but I decided
that would be insulting

to you and not worthy
of our relationship,

and the only thing
I could come up with

involved the space shuttle
and an escaped monkey.

So, aren't you glad
I told you the truth?

No.

Just consider it another one
of life's painful lessons, son.

Whoever said, "It doesn't
matter if you win or lose"

must have been riding
in the back of the loser bus

covered in human filth.

Yeah, well, maybe we can do
the Christmas thing together

unless, of course,
I'm too hung over.

[Duckman
whistling]
[sniffling]

But I wanted to be your partner.

[trumpet playing "Reveille"]

[claps]

Up and at 'em, Coolio!

I've whipped up a high-energy
breakfast of popovers for you--

each pastry
individually injected

with my own special steroi...

uh, protein supplement.

Okay, joke's over.

Hup, two, three!

Speak to me, Coolio!
Speak!

You're too young to die!

Duckman, that's obviously
just a crude dummy of Coolio.

I was wondering why he had
a note pinned to his head.

"Dear Duckman, I have enjoyed
staying with you

"and being your adopted son,

but the time has come to go.
Love, Coo."

Hey, it's smudged!
We'll never know who wrote this.

I'll go out on a limb
and guess Coolio.

He's run away from home.

But he can't!
Today's the big day!

Luckily, my razor-sharp
detective instincts

tell me exactly where to look.

Coolio?!

Coolio?!

[flies buzzing]

I'd better not
find out

you're behind Coolio's
disappearance, Stein.

I bet a lowlife like you'd do
anything to win.

Yeah, not that I'm actually
making a second bet there.

Mr. Duckman,
how can I make this clear?

I never made a bet.

I never intended to accept
any money from you.

'Cause you think
I'm a welsher?!

That's it, Stein,
I'm doubling our bet!

[both sighing]

Yuck, it's like he's
inside my head.

Get out. Get out.

Okay. To find Coolio,
we're gonna have to

use this doodad
I just mail-ordered.

It's your basic
spectromographic fluxoscope.

It hones into Coolio's
electromagnetic frequency

and leads us straight to him.

Observe.

[expl*si*n]

[screams]

Perhaps we should use
more conventional methods

to find Coolio.

You're right.

Look, the fluxoscope
burnt Stein's front lawn

in the shape of Ernest Hemingway
having sex with a squid.

Assuming Ernest Hemingway
stands for "Coo"

and squid stands for "lio",

I think we've got
our first lead.

Duckman, your efforts
are admirable.

Assuming "admirable"
stands for "ludicrous."

But perhaps it would be easier
to just go to Coolio's mansion.

It's only five minutes away.

[laughing]

Just go to
his mansion?

Oh, yeah, sure.

We'll just go
to his mansion.

We'll walk over
to where he lives

because it's
easier to do that

than a bunch of things
that'll just waste our time.

Here we go.

We're walking
to his mansion.

Oh, this is much easier.

Here we are--
ringing his doorbell.

[doorbell chimes]
Oh, great plan.

I guess
he'll just answer.

I was expecting you,
Duckman.

A little sooner, though,

given the detective skills
you bragged about.

Traffic... you know.

Look, Coolio, son, I'm assuming
you just came back here

to pick up some magical sneakers
or something,

so why don't I just go wait for
you in the car, and you just...

Duckman, I can't compete in the
father/son games with you today.

What?! Why not?!

Because it's not right.

I left because
you have a real son

who wants to be with you,

and because I wasn't feeling
safe anymore around Bernice.

But you agree to be my son.

What about the
long-term commitment

we've made to each other?

Damn it, I bought you
a Speak & Spell!

I said I'd be your son
because I wanted to help you.

You seemed desperate for love.

Well, at least desperate.

Duckman, sporting events
aren't about winning.

They're about the love
of competition--

the bond created between people
trying their hardest--

the brotherhood
of all who follow

in one of civilization's oldest
and noblest traditions.

Uh-huh. What do
you want?


Come on, work
with me, kid.

Duckman, if you win
the games with me,

it's no victory at all.

Man, that's wack!

Sorry?

"Wack." You know, "weak."

Anyway,
do the right thing, Duckman.

Enter the games with Ajax.

Coolio is right,
Duckman.

This was Ajax's chance
to connect with you,

and he doesn't get
many chances.

M-Maybe you're right.

Maybe I do owe it
to the kid.

He doesn't ask for much--

just directions to the kitchen
every morning.

He is a good boy.

But you're not!

You're out of my will, Coolio!

And you're grounded
for two weeks!

Believe it or not,
he's getting better.

[squirrel squeaking]

You're doing well.

I think we have a chance
to win today.

Hello, son.

Hello.

I'm proud of your efforts, son.

Tomorrow we are sure to win
the pie-eating contest.

Oh, how we will consume
the mighty boysenberry.

Ajax, I've got something
serious to talk about.

Me love squirrel.

Ajax...
Squirrely...

Ajax!
Squirrely...

Ajax, listen.
For the past few days,

a man has been staying
in our house.

I... I don't know
if you noticed him.

[squirrel thudding]
Huh, I thought they flew.

Anyhoo, what I'm
trying to say is, I...

I've failed you once again.

I don't know
what's wrong with me.

This is like the, I don't know,
third time in your life now

that I've failed you.

Why do I keep doing this?

Maybe it's because
once... long ago,

somebody's father
let down his son.

And that boy's never
gotten over it.

I never knew that
happened to you.

Well, it might have been
a Sanford and Son.

The point is, Ajax,

I want to enter
the games with you.

You and me together.
For better or worse.

What do you say, son?
Are you in?

I'm in, Dad.

That's my boy!

Now, quick, we only have
a few minutes

before the games start.

Better stretch out a little.
Here, like this.

[Bones creaking]

Okay.
We're stretched.

[snarls]

[crowd cheering]

[blows whistle]

[gulps]

[burps]

[crowd cheering]

[whistle blows]

[screams]

[yelping]

Ah! Ooh! Ooh!
Stop! Eh! Ooh!
Ooh! Ah! Ow! Ooh!

[crowd cheering]

[whistle blows]

[groans]

[crowd cheering]

[crowd cheering]

The father/son picnic games
are officially over,

and we can all be thankful
for that. Am I right?

[crowd cheering]

I now present
this year's champions...

Ben and Lionel Stein.

[crowd cheering]

I am ecstatic.

Ditto.

[crowd moans]

[snickering]

The longer Stein's unconscious,

the longer until
I have to pay him.

Let's now welcome our
most-improved competitor, Ajax.

[both gasp]

[crowd applauding and cheering]

I don't understand.

Dad and I finished
last in every game.

You sh*t 14 people
during the archery event.

I'd say that's an improvement
over last year's 26.

Wouldn't you?

[crowd cheering]

And now to celebrate the
Olympian spirit displayed today

and because plugging a song

is the only reason pop idols
appear on a show like this

let's welcome to the stage
the one, the only... Cujo!

[crowd cheering]

♪ Get on up

♪ Get on up

♪ Get on up

♪ Get on up

♪ Every ghetto
got a different name ♪

♪ But they all the same

♪ So Coolio Loco
goin' put you up on game ♪

♪ We got homeys
who sell straps ♪

♪ Homeys who sell [bleep]

♪ Homeys who sell the b*mb
[bleep] Compton phat doves ♪

♪ Givin' the neighborhood
blood ♪

♪ Buildings play
a substance hole for thieves ♪

♪ Gangsters and thugs

♪ Scrappin' over
who-knows-what ♪

♪ The loudmouthed one
loc'd up ♪

♪ In front of
the ice-cream truck ♪

♪ And broke all her lee nails
while all the BGs bail ♪

♪ The little homey
be getting out of camp ♪

♪ This time,
he might get stuck ♪

♪ Attempted 1-8-7
and he a minor won't cry ♪

♪ So the D.A. wants him
tried as an adult ♪

♪ The big homey just had a son,
no jokin' ♪

♪ I think his baby mama
is smokin' ♪

♪ 'Cause she's always broke ♪

♪ Old G's joinin' the nation
and it's all good ♪

♪ BGs is retaliatin' ♪

♪ 'Cause the enemies
done crossed out the hood ♪

♪ [bleep] mama smokin'
whole county checks ♪

♪ [bleep] dealers who serve
nickel pieces for sex ♪

♪ Be it wrong or right

♪ Right, right ♪

♪ These are the ghetto
highlights ♪

♪ Young's going to school
to be a doctor ♪

♪ Late-night sounds of g*nshots
and helicopters ♪

♪ Be it wrong or right

♪ Right, right ♪

♪ These are the ghetto
highlights ♪

♪ To all the mother [bleep]

♪ Who think they [bleep]
don't stink ♪

♪ Rollin' ODs and in the pen
for robbin' banks ♪

♪ Be it wrong or right

♪ Right, right ♪

♪ These are the ghetto
highlights ♪

♪ This is just a little
somethin' from a [bleep] ♪

♪ That's still gonna be
a [bleep] ♪

♪ If he don't get no bigger ♪

♪ Be it wrong or right

♪ Right, right ♪

♪ These are the ghetto
highlights ♪

♪ Get on up

♪ Get on up

♪ Get on up

[fading out]:
♪ Get on up...

DUCKMAN:
Man, that's wack.