04x10 - A Trophied Duck

[bunniefuu]

Duckman, "Guess
where we're going"

is just
a rhetorical question.

We've been guessing
for five hours.

Tell us, already!

All right,
Miss Quitter.

We're going
to San Francisco

to d*ck-Con '97--

the annual
detectives' convention

because I-- Duckman--
have been chosen

to receive
my industry's

lifetime
achievement award.

All right, point made.

We'll go back
to guessing.

It's true, I swear.

Allow me to quote the letter
from the academy.

[clears throat]

"This long overdue honor
is in recognition

"of Duckman's many
outstanding achievements

and invaluable contributions
to his field of expertise."

What a lot of horse haggis!

The only achievement
in your career

is your total lack
of achievement.

You have never, ever, ever
solved a case.

Not once!

Ah, Bernice, my dear,
small-minded, large-butted,

ESPN-morning-workout-show-
hostess wannabe

being a good detective is
more than just "solving" cases.

It's also, uh... uh...

other stuff.

Well, despite
my nagging suspicions

that this is another one
of your cock-and-bull stories

I'm still involuntarily
feeling... pride.

Hey, me, too.

So this is what
pride feels like.

I'm scared.

Hold me.

Uh, Dad, what do you call
that sound a siren makes?

Why?

[siren wailing]

Damn unleaded plus!

Hold on, folks!

How's that? Straight?

Straightest thing
in this city.

MAN:
Hey, I heard that!

Ah! d*ck-Con '97!

Where my coronation
will come to a head

where I shall
finally take my place

among the legendary detectives
like, uh, the famous guy

and the guy
who solved those cases

and old Miss What's-Her-Name.

DUCKMAN:
Woo-hoo!

No doubt you've
been awaiting me.

Duckman's the name-- as in
guest of honor Duckman.

Tell you what, just
back this baby into the
lifetime achiever's space.

Use those rags you're
wearing to give it a shine.

Then look between
the seat cushions

for a little
something for yourself.

Brochure, sir?

Must be French
for "autograph."

There you go, babe.

My phone number's
on there, too.

Give me a call

anytime you want
to ride the "D" train.

Oh, and congratulations
on your breasts.

Look, Cornfed,
it makes it look

like I'm wearing glasses.

You always wear glasses.

Different glasses.

This thing is genius.

Observe.

Groucho... not Groucho.

Groucho... not Groucho.

Groucho... not Groucho.

Groucho... ah! That woman!

I recognize her.

Is she
a former victim

or are you
a former client?

Amazingly, neither.

Her name's
Lauren Simone.

We went
to Don Galloway's

famous detective
school together.

We were bitter rivals.

She hated
to see me succeed.

I was hungry for knowledge,
doing groundbreaking research

in chastity belt metallurgy,
lingerie tensile strength

and the legal difference

between search-and-seizure
and just plain fondling.

Lauren ridiculed my theories,
but I told her to just wait.

One day,
I'd be a famous detective.

And now, Cornfed,
that day has finally come.

[woman screaming]

DUCKMAN:
Search and seizure-- it's legal!

You put up
with a hell...

Well, well, as I live
and breathe!

It's Lauren Simone.

How are you, my dear?

I hope that life
has treated you better

than time has.

[laughs]

But enough
pleasantries.

For we have come
to the moment

when I watch your leathery
face fall further,

as I tell you
that I-- Duckman--

am here to pick up

my lifetime
achievement award.

Ha-ha!

We will now pause

for jealousy to put
its head up your ugly rear.

Hello, Duckman.

Actually, I already
knew about your honor.

You see, I'm chairperson
of the convention.

Oh. Well, I, uh, uh...

It's nice seeing you
again, Duckman.

Can't we just bury
the hatchet?

Oh... okay, sure.

Well, I must say,

she exhibited
a magnanimous amount

of grace
and self-controlitude.

I guess people
really do change.

Perhaps.

[thunder rumbles]

While my Weather-Tron
Storm Simulator

has no practical application,

it is really cool.

BERNICE:
Look at all these
men in tuxedos.

[purring]

I feel like a kid
in a candy store.

Bernice,
usually a set-up like that one

would demand
I launch some zinger

about you being no kid

and that store ending up
with no candy

but that would violate
our family's new policy

of sweetness and glasnost.

Besides, we're here tonight

not to bury you,
but to praise me.

I hope this doesn't sound
grandiose,

but tonight,
I begin my preordained ascent

toward the global adulation
I so richly deserve.

For what is greatness...

[orchestra plays
bright fanfare]

And now, here's the legendary
P.I., Morton Tannenbaum,

to help present
our final award of the evening--

our lifetime recognition award.

First, Mr. Tannenbaum,

after 60 years as a detective

do you have any inspirational
words you can share?

I once did Herbert Hoover's wife
while he watched.

[orchestra plays
bright fanfare]

Yes, well...

We all know
who this year's recipient is.

Let's welcome him up...

Duckman!

[orchestra playing
jaunty melody]

Boys, you'll always remember
the night the legend was born.

Uh, Duckman,
I've got

one of my patented near-psychic
bad feelings about this.

Quit hogging screen time,
Cornish.

I'm about to meet my destiny.

[laughing]:
Whoo!

Wow! This is so incredible!

I mean...

[clears throat]

Wow! I never expected this.

Ah... well, there's...

there's so many people
to thank--

my agent, my manager...

uh, let's see...

my accountant, lawyer,
personal trainer,

nutritionist, voice coach...

We did it, Eli!

My florist, my mailman,
the Dalai Lama...

Oh! My family--

my sister-in-law, Bernice,

and my sons, Charles, Gumble...

Mambo!

Whatever...

And, of course... Ajax.

[sobbing]

[sobbing]

But... ultimately, this...

this is my night.

I, uh... I don't get
too many honors.

Okay, I don't get any.

That's why this means
so much to me.

You know, you work kind of hard,

you sort of do your best

and... sometimes it seems like
you don't know why you do it...

why you keep going out there
every day,

getting slapped down by life.

Well, it helps to get
something like this

and know that your peers think
you're doing a good job.

[audience laughing]

You folks may not believe this

but... well, I actually
haven't solved that many cases.

[laughter grows louder]

No, no, it's true.

I guess I'm just choosey
about the cases I take on.

[laughter grows even louder]

Geez, I'm k*lling

and I haven't even gotten
to my blue material yet.

"Lifetime underachievement
award?!"

But... but...

[laughing]

No, it can't be!

My invite said I was
getting the achievement award!

Whoops! Must have
been a typo.

Yes, I distinctly
remember nominating you

for the underachievement
award.

[laughing]
You?! No! No!

Ladies and gentlemen,

our honoree

for a lifetime of
pathetic failure--

Duckman.

[boisterous laughter
and applause]

[glass breaks]

[woman screams]

[groaning]

Oh, she humiliated
me again.

I'm the laughingstock
of my profession.

That was the worst
experience of my life.

I'm sorry, Duckman.

You didn't deserve
what happened back there.

You're a decent person

whom we all admire
for our own reasons

and you should know we all
respect and care for you.

I stopped believing you
somewhere around "I'm."

My nostrils flared, didn't they?

Duckman, you'll wake up tomorrow

and you probably won't
even remember this.

Okay, maybe not tomorrow,
but the next day.

Well, someday.

Okay, one day,
you won't even wake up

and this'll all be over.

Of course, odds are,
people will defile your grave.

Uncle Cornfed!

Sorry. I was swept away
by the moment.

Dad, we're still glad

we could share
this trip with you.

That's the worst part--

being humiliated
in front of my sons.

I've worked hard
to prepare you boys

for a lifetime
of broken promises

and dashed expectations,

but this is different.

I just hope this doesn't
affect you permanently--

that you can gather
yourselves together

and somehow
get past this trauma.

[toilet flushes]

[laughing]

Whoa. There's
a tiny sink in here

just for washing your hair.

It even makes a soothing
little whirlpool

when you pull the lever.

Duckman, it says here
in the convention itinerary

that there'll be
a best detective contest

tomorrow morning.

The winner gets
a grand prize of $10,000.

Wee-hee.

Our business could
really use that money.

Plus, we'd be able
to add "award-winning"

to our business card.

We have business cards?

You designed
them yourself.

Huh. Must have been during
my Sudafed period.

This may be a last chance
for redemption, Duckman,

a chance to prove yourself
to those detectives.

Yeah, sure--

to further prove
how pathetic I am.

I'll just take
the ol' Pasadena on that.

It's time to cut my losses and
leave this bass-ackwards burg.

Boys, pack my shoes.

I'll get the linens
and towels.

The winner will also
get this winsome trophy

inscribed "Best d*ck '97."

[gasps]

It's so shiny
and gleaming and phallic.

Okay, I'll do it, Corny.

I'll show them all.

Look out, redemption!

Here come the duck!

One minute
until the test begins.

[sighs]

By the power of Grayskull,

I have the power!

Hey, eyes front.

You may begin the test.

You have one hour.

[cheering]

DUCKMAN:
Must be some sort of trick...

[grunting]

Clever fiends.

Cornfed.

Cornfed!

What the fu...?

Okay, skip that one.

Number two.

"If a man drives


leaves the station at 2:35..."

Ah, try number three.

Ya-ha!

Go to the fourth.

Surveillance...

Confession...

D'oh! Wait.

I get it.

[screams]

That was the English version.

Oh, I can't solve any of these.

[loud dripping]

Cornfed.

Hey, buddy.

How you been? Great.

Uh, hypothetically speaking,
just sh**ting the breeze--

let's say you are
in a windowless room,

a corpse with multiple
con... con... contu-si-ons

and abra... abra...

Duckman,
I can't help you cheat.

You have to do this yourself.

Otherwise, you'd never
be able to respect yourself.

That would be bad.

Oh.

But I can't.

I'm not going to help you.

LAUREN:
One minute left
on the test.

Cornfed, time's running out.

Please, please,
please, please, please.

Do it for the agency.

I'll go distract Lauren.

Groucho, not Groucho.

Groucho, not Groucho.

Groucho, not Groucho.

Groucho, not Groucho.

Groucho, not Groucho.

Groucho, not Groucho.

Groucho, not Groucho.

Groucho, not Groucho.

Groucho, not Groucho.

Return to your seat.

Time's up, detectives.

Pencils down.

Pencils, dicks.

Well, Duckman,

since the only thing
your booklet is good for

is recycling,

what's say we
just go ahead

and throw this away now.

Grade it, baby.

[gasps]

A p-p-p-perfect score?!

Yay!
Yay!
Yay!

B-But that's impossible.

That can't be.

You're an idiot.

You had to have gotten
help from someone.

[whistling]

Underachiever, my tafta tuchis.

I got a perfect score.

I'm a friggin' genius.

♪ You put your dog down

♪ And thrust your pelvis, huh!

♪ Thrust your pelvis, huh!

Duckman.
Congratulations, Duckman.

Here's your
"Best d*ck '97" trophy.

[applause]

Thank you, everyone.

While I did this
all by myself,

I'd like to give an extremely
small passing mention

to my best friend...

[people screaming]

Cornfed, you're gone.

There's only
one logical explanation--

you're invisible.

You've invented an
invisibility ray that can be...

No, Duckman, look!

Oh, no. The process doesn't work
on hats, belts, or coins.

It's completely useless.

Duckman, will you put
your pinhead on pause?

Cornfed's been kidnapped!

That's worse.

Ladies and gentlemen,

it appears that we have a
devious kidnapping on our hands.

In times like this,

we need the greatest
crime-solving mind of our age.

So, tell us, Duckman--

where is Cornfed?

I can easily
solve Cornfed's kidnapping

through the careful examination
of these "glues."

Clues.

Whatever.

First, this belt.

Eh... hmm... belt.

Cornfed liked
to belt out show tunes.

That's it-- he's been kidnapped

by the ghost of Liberace.

[spectators groaning]

This Duckman doesn't
seem to be

such a hot detective
after all.

I'm frightened
and disoriented.

[laughing]

Hey, hey, easy with
the trophy envy.

Attention, everyone.

Duckman's
bungling investigation

has shown us he's unworthy
of the title of best d*ck.

[spectators laughing]

Hey, wait.

Come on, I was just
getting warmed up.

Here we go.

Exhibit "A," Cornfed's belt--

removed, as if he had
to go to the bathroom.

SPECTATORS:
Ooh!

Exhibit "B," these dimes.

The sort of dimes one might need
to use a pay toilet.

SPECTATORS:
Aah!

There's four of these dimes

indicating
the fourth stall of...

[sniffing]

Hmm?
Lavender, with a hint of Lysol.

Cornfed is being
held hostage

in the ladies'
bathroom.

Follow me.

Hey, this is the first time

I've been in a ladies' room
legally.

By legally, of course,
I mean... ever.

And now, direct from Kidnapville

a man for all sausage--
Cornfed.

♪ Ta-da!

[gasping]

[gasping]

Hold your horses, sonny.

I should be done in an hour.

My God, Cornfed!

What have they done to you?!

[groaning]

Corny, corny, corny.


and ten of those were spent

trying to find my way
out of the ladies' room.

Lauren's right.

I'm a lousy detective.

And now I'm a lousy detective
who lost his best friend.

There's something charming
about her.

Maybe it's her alluring
lack of consciousness.

I could use the sympathetic ear

of a person that can't
possibly bore me back.

Bonjour.

Aah!

Oh, great. I found
the only company

misery doesn't love.

Ah, shut up,
you mush-headed thick wit.

I'm in no mood
for your antics tonight.

In fact, the sight of you
makes me feel worse.

Well, then, I'll be
happy to join you.

You won.

You got what you wanted.

You're successful,
famous, respected

and you've completely
humiliated me.

I've dreamt for so long

of the day when I'd make you
look like a fool

when I'd ruin you,
and today

when I kidnapped Cornfed
to humiliate you

knowing you could never
solve the case...

Wait. You kidnapped Cornfed?

Is he okay?

Ah, don't worry,
he's all right.

So my plan was working fine.

I thought it would be
the happiest day of my life,

but it's not.

Not nearly.

Yeah, goals never work out.

That's why I don't bother.

Wait a minute.

You're not happy?

Can you believe it?

I mean, that ladies' room scene
was perfect.

You were a complete moron,

wearing your stupidity
like a badge of honor.

Flaunting your idiocy,
begging for a fall.

Yeah,
it's this thing that I do.

Some people can cook,
some can sing...

So, there you were,
putting both feet in your mouth

and when I looked at you,
all I felt was...

was sympathy.

I felt sorry for you,
you big jerk.

You looked
like a little puppy.

Wow.
And this time,

I wasn't even
licking myself inappropriately.

I looked at you
and, and realized...

realized...

I realized I like you.

A lot.

You know, like in... like.

Yuck!

Excuse me?

I think back at Galloway's

I had a little crush on you,
but you were so repugnant,

so disgusting,
so grossly unsavory

a relationship with you
was not part of the plan

I had for myself,

so I must have
over-compensated,

turned it to hate.

But when I saw you
in that bathroom,

looking so lost and hurt,
I knew it wasn't hate.

So that's why you always
tried to embarrass me--

stealing my homework,
changing my grades,

sending me those fake
notes from our teacher saying

"You suck.
Get out of my class."

I never sent any notes.

Oh.

Anyway, all this time,
you were in love with me?

Keep it in your down,
Chester.

I said I was sublimating,
not insane.

I just have a decades-old crush
that needs closure.

Did you, um... ever have
any romantic feelings for me?

More than likely,

but for me to be interested
in a woman,

my only requirement is
that she have legs and a pulse

and I even waived those
in New Orleans last year.

I think a few dates with you
should finally rid me of

any unresolved
romantic feelings.

What do you say?

I say we've got
a moonlit night,

one of the most beautiful
cities on earth,

and a pocketful of
stolen credit cards.

But forget about
that last part.

Let's swing, baby.

[chuckling]

You know, Duckman,

I feel great.

I really do.

But I still can't help feeling
I'm forgetting something.

[water dripping]

[muffled]:
Hello.

Hello!

Anybody out there?

Duckman, is this you?

Come on,
this isn't funny.

Lauren, if it's you,
just say something.

Somebody talk to me.

Hello?

[water dripping]

Hello!

Anybody out there?

Hello?

[water dripping]

Come on, this isn't funny.

Somebody talk to me.

[speaking unintelligibly]

DUCKMAN:
We did it, Eli!