04x22 - Short, Plush and Deadly
Posted: 02/25/24 20:15
[whistles]
[birds chirping]
BERNICE: You putrid,
plume-pated parasite!
DUCKMAN:
I can't hear you!
I can't hear you!
I can't hear you!
EVERYONE ELSE:
Stop yelling!
Thank you.
Now, where was I?
Waxing euphoric about the
bucolic pleasures of camping.
Which apparently consist
of consuming ten times
your body weight
in venison jerky...
Projectile vomiting
across a three-mile lake...
And waking up next
to a dead moose
in a Philadelphia
flophouse
with no memory of
the past five months.
Well, there'll be none of that
on this trip.
As I explained to you before,
and will repeat now,
not as clunky exposition,
but just because
it feels so damn good,
we're taking this taxpayer-
financed dream vacation
at the request
of the House Subcommittee
for Investigating
Dream Vacations,
which means no one
in this family
better break any rules,
Duckman!
And let me tell you,
these woods are
lousy with rules--
no random body
cavity searches
while impersonating
a park ranger;
no videotaping lesbian
campers in outdoor showers
then selling the
tapes to Lesbian
Camper Monthly--
which, by the way,
just raised their
subscription rate again.
Welcome to Monsanto Presents
Phillip Morris Yellowstone
National Park, Incorporated,
brought to you in part by:
"We deliver the world's most
important packages-- yours."
And Jip peanut butter.
"Choosy mothers choose Jip."
You may insert a credit card...
Nice try, robo-crap,
but my bank account's
been attached
by Monty Hall Enterprises
since 1983. Ya-ha-ha!
Hoo!
[chittering]
[tires squealing]
[engine dieseling]
Ah, smell that fresh...
Okay, I'm bored.
CHARLES AND MAMBO:
Ooh! Ooh! Ow! Ooh!
[both continue grunting]
[wheels squeaking]
And where do you think
you're going, little man?
We're in a park;
we thought we'd hike.
I think Beverly
would rather spend her time
with a real outdoorsman.
This is rough territory,
Corneptitude.
There are huge sections
of this park
that are still unpaved
with grotesque tree-like things
bunched so close together
you can barely see
the gift shops.
Actually, Duckman,
Corny and I would...
Beverly? Can you help
me with the tent?
Good. And, Cornfed,
you come with me
and do some more of that
great listless-nodding-
at-whatever-idiotic-thing-I-say
thing you do so well.
I can't believe you
wanted to go for a hike
when we can just walk
around and look at things.
You're right,
I was insane.
Look, there's
a tufted titmouse.
Really? A big titmouse?
A really big titmouse.
Man, just look at the
size of that titmouse.
That is one
humongous titmouse.
You think I could
grab the titmouse?
Sure, it's fun
to grab the titmouse.
When's the "V"
chip coming?
Not for another
six months.
FLUFFY AND URANUS:
♪ John Jacob
Jingleheimer Schmidt ♪
♪ That's my name, too... ♪
Oh! That horrible sound!
Please, Mommy, make it stop!
I'll be a good girl!
♪ Schmidt,
la-la-la-la-la-la-la ♪
♪ John Jacob
Jingleheimer... ♪
[both yelling]
Mr. Duckman?!
What a seemingly
horrifying,
though hopefully
delightful surprise.
Well, well, well.
I don't recall
you little fruit baskets
putting in
for a vacation request.
That's not true,
Mr. Duckman.
According to the
employee regulations...
Which we've never
actually seen,
but take your word
that they exist...
We submitted the paperwork
six months in advance.
And I assume you also included
an affidavit of death.
Death?
Death?
It's in the
regulations.
No vacations till
you're certifiably dead.
Tell you what, kids.
I'll give you a choice:
be my personal camp-out slaves
or watch me plump my wieners
over your stuffing.
BOTH:
which way to camp... sahib?
[blowing]
Ah, the wood
must be wet.
Grandma-ma,
can you give us a hand?
[breaking wind]
Okay, let's see
if those fey little dunaways
were able to put together
my campsite design.
[disco music playing]
[music grows louder]
Not bad.
♪
Hey, Ranger Smith,
don't block the woofer
or you'll be pick-
a-nicking boo-boo
out of your
butt-butt.
Sir, we've had some complaints
about the noise.
Yeah? From who?
Every living creature
within 50 miles.
I told you stocking-stuffers--
turn off that noise!
[music stops]
Now, if you can
get those damn birds
to stop bleating
night and day...
I'm sorry, sir;
but I must ask you to move.
Okay, we're breaking camp.
Not us, Duckhead, you!
We'll meet you back here
in three days.
Fine. I don't need you.
I don't need anybody.
MAN:
Hey, man!
[man grunting]
[glass shattering]
[clattering]
A lot of homeless people
around here.
Makes you think.
Makes you want
to do something.
Get a job!
Get a haircut!
Stop being homeless!
[insects chirping]
How about here?
Too hilly.
Or here?
Too flat.
Here?
Too republican.
Here?
Too... Corny,
think of a word.
Salty?
"Salty." Unbelievable.
He has one line, and...
Fine, we're going to go
with "too salty."
Moving on.
[owl hooting]
But, Mr. Duckman,
we appear to be entering
a dangerous section of the park.
Pish tush.
This is the forest primeval,
untouched and virginal,
waiting with moist expectation
as we poke and probe
for the perfect spot
to stick our equipment.
Wear 'em if you got 'em, boys.
We're going in deep, and if
there is danger out there,
that danger's going to be
in big, big trouble.
[wolf howling]
[howling]
DUCKMAN:
Too dirty.
Too quiet.
Too "Ansel Adamsy."
Too moldy.
Not moldy enough.
Duckman, perhaps we should...
All right, you got in your damn
"salty"-- give it a rest.
Mr. Duckman, we've been
searching all night.
Quit your bellyaching
or you two fuzzy-wuzzies
will have no skin.
I got a feeling
the perfect campsite
lies right around that bend.
Too, uh...
perfect.
[yells]
Hey!
Sorry.
Slipped.
Well, I'll be seeing you
in court.
You bruised my coccyx,
and not in the way
I like either.
Now follow me.
We'll set up
through these bushes.
And by "we,"
of course, I mean, "you."
Not to cast dispersions
on your judgment, Mr. Duckman,
but this area is swarming
with insects.
Duh!
How else am I going to capture
the true outdoor experience?
And by "I,"
of course, I mean "you."
Now then...
Fluffy, Uranus,
prepare my bedtime
buffalo wings bonanza.
Cornfed, construct a sort of
Swiss Family Robinson-like
living quarters.
You can start
with the observatory.
Here's some wood.
Wait, Duckman,
that log could be
filled with...
[buzzing]
What? What?
Covered with what?
Why is it no one ever finishes
a sentence when I'm around?
[muffled]:
Don't worry. I'll be all right.
Just so long
as nobody pani...
Dwaaah! Dwaaah!
A thousand times, dwaaah!
Never fear, old friend.
I will snatch you
from death's door.
Pollinate this,
you busy little bastards!
[loud thud]
Ouch.
Cornhouse,
you look terrible.
You got to stop partying
with the Rangerettes.
[laughing]
I kid him,
but I love him.
I don't want
to scare you, Corny,
but now you got
one of those bloodthirsty
ladybugs crawling on you.
This may hurt a bit.
[Cornfed screaming in distance,
bird wings flapping]
Cornfed!
Duckman?!
Their footprints go
in that direction.
We have to
rescue them.
BERNICE:
Wait! Wait!
Who knows what
danger lies--
or lays, I always forget
which-- in the forest?
You boys stay here.
Beverly and I
will investigate.
But we can't leave
the kids alone.
Perhaps I can help.
It's world-famous
entertainer
and master illusionist
Jim Bailey!
[dramatic music plays]
Mr. Bailey, if you
don't mind my saying so,
you're not someone
usually associated
with camping.
Ah, but the root word
of "camping" is "camp."
Oh, sure.
When most people think
of national parks,
they think of the animals,
the wilderness, the solitude.
What they always seem
to forget is...
the glamour.
You girls run along now.
Everything will be fine.
Bless you,
Mr. Bailey.
Don't you worry
about a thing!
Did anyone ever tell you
you look like Liza?
CORNFED:
Duckman, listen carefully.
I've only got a few seconds
before my body swells up
and I'm unable
to speak or move.
Luckily,
you can fabricate
the antidote using
that moss over...
Save your strength,
dear one.
Don't spoil my last memory
of you by spewing
some delirious stream-
of-consciousness gobbledygook.
Oh, Corny, please--
for once, have a little dignity.
You owe me that much.
[groans]
Hey, nice face, Corn--
for Mardi Gras!
[mumbling]
What, old pal?
What are you
trying to say?
"Thank you
for being my friend"?
CORNFED:
If I wasn't blind, paralyzed
and almost dead,
I'd be wearing your sphincter
as a shoe.
Mr. Duckman, I think
we've been bitten, too.
I hope it doesn't cause
an allergic reaction.
Keep in mind that
employee regulations
call for a $200 fine for
every medical emergency.
Don't worry, old chum.
You can pay
at the end of the month.
Hey, do you have
to pull so herky-jerky?
From now on, I'd appreciate
more of a fluid arcing motion.
Well, we'd
appreciate it
if you'd stop acting
so unkindly.
Hmm... that was
an unkind thing to say.
Maybe that bite is causing
some kind of reaction.
Mr. Cornfed's still
in bad shape.
He needs food.
Good point.
The sooner we get grub,
the sooner I can
evacuate my innards
under a canopy of stars.
So, I suggest you slackers
go out and whip up
a nice wildebeest pate
or a puma melt or maybe
just a light fawn sandwich.
[ferocious snarling]
A mountain lion?
How'd you get
a mountain lion?
Never mind.
We just did.
Mush!
I say, mush!
[whip snaps]
Must... get food...
inches away...
hand not quite...
paralyzed...
Say, uh, Corny,
you going to
finish that?
[moaning]
No sense letting
it go to waste.
Think of all those
children in India
who go to bed without
any mountain lion.
Too salty.
[both gasp]
[panting]
Excuse me.
Maybe I'm suffering
from some jungle-induced form
of memory loss,
but I don't remember
hearing the word "stop."
We're stopping
because your senseless
sense of direction
has led us in one
giant circle.
Look!
There happen to be many
other Duckmans, you know--
a very common name
in Iraq.
Mr. Duckman, during
this entire expedition,
you've consistently
led us astray.
Plus, you've been insulting
and abusive and demeaning.
And not in the way
we like either.
Maybe it's just the allergic
reaction talking...
But we want to reexamine
our relationship.
I couldn't agree more.
You're fired!
What?!
What?!
That's right!
F-I-E-R-D-E-R-D...
R... D... R... D...
Fired!
Let's face it.
You mamby-pamby shammies are
way out of your element here.
You just don't know what it's
like to be one with nature,
to feel the blood
coursing through
your veins.
The testosterone
coursing
through your
testosteronicals.
How I pity
you pantywaists
for being so
feeble, so weak,
so Charles Nelson Reilly-esque.
I simply cannot listen
to your whining anymore.
Blah-blah-blah-blah
blah-blah-blah-blah-
blah-blah-blah-blah
blah-blah-blah-blah-
blah-blah-blah!
But hold--
why merely fire you?
Why not do what
we've all been waiting for
and destroy you completely
in my patented
Emmy award-losing fashion?
[footfalls thunders]
Mr. Duckman...
make our day!
[bellowing ferociously]
[roaring and snarling]
DUCKMAN:
Okay. Let's talk benefits.
Now, right off, we can agree
that your dental co-pay
is too high.
Duckman must die.
Duckman must die.
Please don't k*ll me!
Please, please, please!
I'll do anything!
I'll be your sl*ve;
I'll lick your claws;
I'll vacuum your hide.
I'll-I'll...
CORNFED [straining]:
Must warn Duckman:
never run away
from enraged stuffed bears.
Run away!
[footfalls thundering]
[distant roaring]
Hurry, Bernice.
Duckman may have
only moments to live.
Bernice!
[panting]
[snarling]
[panting]
[panicked panting]
[panting]
No. It can't end like this.
Wait. That gives me an idea.
You could jump off the cliff
and go for help.
[snarling]
Dwahh!
Never mind.
I'll go with you-u-u-u.
[Duckman grunting,
thumping, rocks clattering]
[loud splash]
After everything
I've gone through,
Duckman better be dead
when we find him.
[Duckman screaming]
[grunts]
[mumbling]
Poor Cornfed, I bet you'd have
some helpful suggestion
if only there was some way
for me to hear
what you were thinking.
k*ll Duckman.
k*ll Duckman.
k*ll Duckman.
[footfalls thundering]
[roaring and snarling]
We're doomed. Doomed.
[mumbles]
Aha!
Thank God I always keep
a spare token from Peep World.
[coins clattering]
Yes!
Who da man!
I's da man!
Yikes.
[Duckman screaming]
[grunts]
[footfalls thundering]
[grunts]
[panting]
[snarling]
[distant roaring]
There's a disturbance
in the forest.
The hunt is up,
and may God have mercy
on the hunted.
[roaring continues]
Must... make it... across.
Must...
Hey, a Mento.
[roaring]
Dwahh!
[chuckles]
Now relax, guys--
gals-- whatever.
Say, those endangered
spotted whales
are sure making
a comeback, huh?
Hey, note to myself--
separate clear and colored
liquor bottles for recycling.
[footfalls approaching]
[snarling]
[Tarzan yells]
Quick! Cut the ropes!
[grunting]
[snarling]
[footfalls thundering]
[snarling]
Sing, boys.
Sing for your lives.
♪ Clang, clang, clang
went the trolley ♪
♪ Ding, ding, ding
went the bell ♪
♪ Zing, zing, zing
went my heart strings ♪
♪ From the moment I saw him,
I fell ♪
♪ Chug, chug, chug
went the motor ♪
♪ Bump, bump, bump
went the brake ♪
♪ Thump, thump, thump
went my heart strings ♪
♪ When he smiled,
I could feel the car shake... ♪
Thank you, Mr. Bailey.
Your wonderful show tunes
must've caused the civilized
part of our consciousness
to assert control
over our temporarily altered
genetic structures.
Well, I'm just thankful
that you two came through
this little
incident unharmed
because it gives me
the opportunity to do this.
[both gasp]
[both screaming]
Dad, can we keep
Mr. Bailey?
He's brought
laughter, music,
and black fishnet
pantyhose
into our lives.
Sorry, boys, but I'm not ready
to settle down.
All over this
great land of ours
there are other
glamour-deprived
boys and girls
that need my help.
As we say in the theater,
ciao.
Well, other than
Fluffy and Uranus mutating
into giant k*ller monsters,
this was a pretty nice trip.
We came to learn
about nature
and ended up learning
about each other.
And I saw a really big titmouse.
I think the bee venom
is wearing off.
I can't believe it.
I'm going to be all right.
I'm not going to die.
Quiet, Cornicles.
Ajax wants to say something.
Dad, could I go
with Mr. Bailey?
Of course,
you can, Ajax.
In fact,
let's all go.
Come on, guys.
♪ Clang, clang, clang
went the trolley ♪
♪ Ding, ding, ding
went the bell ♪
♪ Zing, zing, zing
went my heart strings ♪
♪ From the moment I saw him,
I fell ♪
♪ Chug, chug, chug
went the motor ♪
♪ Bump, bump, bump
went the brake ♪
♪ Thump, thump, thump
went my heart strings ♪
♪ When he smiled...
DUCKMAN:
Too salty.
[birds chirping]
BERNICE: You putrid,
plume-pated parasite!
DUCKMAN:
I can't hear you!
I can't hear you!
I can't hear you!
EVERYONE ELSE:
Stop yelling!
Thank you.
Now, where was I?
Waxing euphoric about the
bucolic pleasures of camping.
Which apparently consist
of consuming ten times
your body weight
in venison jerky...
Projectile vomiting
across a three-mile lake...
And waking up next
to a dead moose
in a Philadelphia
flophouse
with no memory of
the past five months.
Well, there'll be none of that
on this trip.
As I explained to you before,
and will repeat now,
not as clunky exposition,
but just because
it feels so damn good,
we're taking this taxpayer-
financed dream vacation
at the request
of the House Subcommittee
for Investigating
Dream Vacations,
which means no one
in this family
better break any rules,
Duckman!
And let me tell you,
these woods are
lousy with rules--
no random body
cavity searches
while impersonating
a park ranger;
no videotaping lesbian
campers in outdoor showers
then selling the
tapes to Lesbian
Camper Monthly--
which, by the way,
just raised their
subscription rate again.
Welcome to Monsanto Presents
Phillip Morris Yellowstone
National Park, Incorporated,
brought to you in part by:
"We deliver the world's most
important packages-- yours."
And Jip peanut butter.
"Choosy mothers choose Jip."
You may insert a credit card...
Nice try, robo-crap,
but my bank account's
been attached
by Monty Hall Enterprises
since 1983. Ya-ha-ha!
Hoo!
[chittering]
[tires squealing]
[engine dieseling]
Ah, smell that fresh...
Okay, I'm bored.
CHARLES AND MAMBO:
Ooh! Ooh! Ow! Ooh!
[both continue grunting]
[wheels squeaking]
And where do you think
you're going, little man?
We're in a park;
we thought we'd hike.
I think Beverly
would rather spend her time
with a real outdoorsman.
This is rough territory,
Corneptitude.
There are huge sections
of this park
that are still unpaved
with grotesque tree-like things
bunched so close together
you can barely see
the gift shops.
Actually, Duckman,
Corny and I would...
Beverly? Can you help
me with the tent?
Good. And, Cornfed,
you come with me
and do some more of that
great listless-nodding-
at-whatever-idiotic-thing-I-say
thing you do so well.
I can't believe you
wanted to go for a hike
when we can just walk
around and look at things.
You're right,
I was insane.
Look, there's
a tufted titmouse.
Really? A big titmouse?
A really big titmouse.
Man, just look at the
size of that titmouse.
That is one
humongous titmouse.
You think I could
grab the titmouse?
Sure, it's fun
to grab the titmouse.
When's the "V"
chip coming?
Not for another
six months.
FLUFFY AND URANUS:
♪ John Jacob
Jingleheimer Schmidt ♪
♪ That's my name, too... ♪
Oh! That horrible sound!
Please, Mommy, make it stop!
I'll be a good girl!
♪ Schmidt,
la-la-la-la-la-la-la ♪
♪ John Jacob
Jingleheimer... ♪
[both yelling]
Mr. Duckman?!
What a seemingly
horrifying,
though hopefully
delightful surprise.
Well, well, well.
I don't recall
you little fruit baskets
putting in
for a vacation request.
That's not true,
Mr. Duckman.
According to the
employee regulations...
Which we've never
actually seen,
but take your word
that they exist...
We submitted the paperwork
six months in advance.
And I assume you also included
an affidavit of death.
Death?
Death?
It's in the
regulations.
No vacations till
you're certifiably dead.
Tell you what, kids.
I'll give you a choice:
be my personal camp-out slaves
or watch me plump my wieners
over your stuffing.
BOTH:
which way to camp... sahib?
[blowing]
Ah, the wood
must be wet.
Grandma-ma,
can you give us a hand?
[breaking wind]
Okay, let's see
if those fey little dunaways
were able to put together
my campsite design.
[disco music playing]
[music grows louder]
Not bad.
♪
Hey, Ranger Smith,
don't block the woofer
or you'll be pick-
a-nicking boo-boo
out of your
butt-butt.
Sir, we've had some complaints
about the noise.
Yeah? From who?
Every living creature
within 50 miles.
I told you stocking-stuffers--
turn off that noise!
[music stops]
Now, if you can
get those damn birds
to stop bleating
night and day...
I'm sorry, sir;
but I must ask you to move.
Okay, we're breaking camp.
Not us, Duckhead, you!
We'll meet you back here
in three days.
Fine. I don't need you.
I don't need anybody.
MAN:
Hey, man!
[man grunting]
[glass shattering]
[clattering]
A lot of homeless people
around here.
Makes you think.
Makes you want
to do something.
Get a job!
Get a haircut!
Stop being homeless!
[insects chirping]
How about here?
Too hilly.
Or here?
Too flat.
Here?
Too republican.
Here?
Too... Corny,
think of a word.
Salty?
"Salty." Unbelievable.
He has one line, and...
Fine, we're going to go
with "too salty."
Moving on.
[owl hooting]
But, Mr. Duckman,
we appear to be entering
a dangerous section of the park.
Pish tush.
This is the forest primeval,
untouched and virginal,
waiting with moist expectation
as we poke and probe
for the perfect spot
to stick our equipment.
Wear 'em if you got 'em, boys.
We're going in deep, and if
there is danger out there,
that danger's going to be
in big, big trouble.
[wolf howling]
[howling]
DUCKMAN:
Too dirty.
Too quiet.
Too "Ansel Adamsy."
Too moldy.
Not moldy enough.
Duckman, perhaps we should...
All right, you got in your damn
"salty"-- give it a rest.
Mr. Duckman, we've been
searching all night.
Quit your bellyaching
or you two fuzzy-wuzzies
will have no skin.
I got a feeling
the perfect campsite
lies right around that bend.
Too, uh...
perfect.
[yells]
Hey!
Sorry.
Slipped.
Well, I'll be seeing you
in court.
You bruised my coccyx,
and not in the way
I like either.
Now follow me.
We'll set up
through these bushes.
And by "we,"
of course, I mean, "you."
Not to cast dispersions
on your judgment, Mr. Duckman,
but this area is swarming
with insects.
Duh!
How else am I going to capture
the true outdoor experience?
And by "I,"
of course, I mean "you."
Now then...
Fluffy, Uranus,
prepare my bedtime
buffalo wings bonanza.
Cornfed, construct a sort of
Swiss Family Robinson-like
living quarters.
You can start
with the observatory.
Here's some wood.
Wait, Duckman,
that log could be
filled with...
[buzzing]
What? What?
Covered with what?
Why is it no one ever finishes
a sentence when I'm around?
[muffled]:
Don't worry. I'll be all right.
Just so long
as nobody pani...
Dwaaah! Dwaaah!
A thousand times, dwaaah!
Never fear, old friend.
I will snatch you
from death's door.
Pollinate this,
you busy little bastards!
[loud thud]
Ouch.
Cornhouse,
you look terrible.
You got to stop partying
with the Rangerettes.
[laughing]
I kid him,
but I love him.
I don't want
to scare you, Corny,
but now you got
one of those bloodthirsty
ladybugs crawling on you.
This may hurt a bit.
[Cornfed screaming in distance,
bird wings flapping]
Cornfed!
Duckman?!
Their footprints go
in that direction.
We have to
rescue them.
BERNICE:
Wait! Wait!
Who knows what
danger lies--
or lays, I always forget
which-- in the forest?
You boys stay here.
Beverly and I
will investigate.
But we can't leave
the kids alone.
Perhaps I can help.
It's world-famous
entertainer
and master illusionist
Jim Bailey!
[dramatic music plays]
Mr. Bailey, if you
don't mind my saying so,
you're not someone
usually associated
with camping.
Ah, but the root word
of "camping" is "camp."
Oh, sure.
When most people think
of national parks,
they think of the animals,
the wilderness, the solitude.
What they always seem
to forget is...
the glamour.
You girls run along now.
Everything will be fine.
Bless you,
Mr. Bailey.
Don't you worry
about a thing!
Did anyone ever tell you
you look like Liza?
CORNFED:
Duckman, listen carefully.
I've only got a few seconds
before my body swells up
and I'm unable
to speak or move.
Luckily,
you can fabricate
the antidote using
that moss over...
Save your strength,
dear one.
Don't spoil my last memory
of you by spewing
some delirious stream-
of-consciousness gobbledygook.
Oh, Corny, please--
for once, have a little dignity.
You owe me that much.
[groans]
Hey, nice face, Corn--
for Mardi Gras!
[mumbling]
What, old pal?
What are you
trying to say?
"Thank you
for being my friend"?
CORNFED:
If I wasn't blind, paralyzed
and almost dead,
I'd be wearing your sphincter
as a shoe.
Mr. Duckman, I think
we've been bitten, too.
I hope it doesn't cause
an allergic reaction.
Keep in mind that
employee regulations
call for a $200 fine for
every medical emergency.
Don't worry, old chum.
You can pay
at the end of the month.
Hey, do you have
to pull so herky-jerky?
From now on, I'd appreciate
more of a fluid arcing motion.
Well, we'd
appreciate it
if you'd stop acting
so unkindly.
Hmm... that was
an unkind thing to say.
Maybe that bite is causing
some kind of reaction.
Mr. Cornfed's still
in bad shape.
He needs food.
Good point.
The sooner we get grub,
the sooner I can
evacuate my innards
under a canopy of stars.
So, I suggest you slackers
go out and whip up
a nice wildebeest pate
or a puma melt or maybe
just a light fawn sandwich.
[ferocious snarling]
A mountain lion?
How'd you get
a mountain lion?
Never mind.
We just did.
Mush!
I say, mush!
[whip snaps]
Must... get food...
inches away...
hand not quite...
paralyzed...
Say, uh, Corny,
you going to
finish that?
[moaning]
No sense letting
it go to waste.
Think of all those
children in India
who go to bed without
any mountain lion.
Too salty.
[both gasp]
[panting]
Excuse me.
Maybe I'm suffering
from some jungle-induced form
of memory loss,
but I don't remember
hearing the word "stop."
We're stopping
because your senseless
sense of direction
has led us in one
giant circle.
Look!
There happen to be many
other Duckmans, you know--
a very common name
in Iraq.
Mr. Duckman, during
this entire expedition,
you've consistently
led us astray.
Plus, you've been insulting
and abusive and demeaning.
And not in the way
we like either.
Maybe it's just the allergic
reaction talking...
But we want to reexamine
our relationship.
I couldn't agree more.
You're fired!
What?!
What?!
That's right!
F-I-E-R-D-E-R-D...
R... D... R... D...
Fired!
Let's face it.
You mamby-pamby shammies are
way out of your element here.
You just don't know what it's
like to be one with nature,
to feel the blood
coursing through
your veins.
The testosterone
coursing
through your
testosteronicals.
How I pity
you pantywaists
for being so
feeble, so weak,
so Charles Nelson Reilly-esque.
I simply cannot listen
to your whining anymore.
Blah-blah-blah-blah
blah-blah-blah-blah-
blah-blah-blah-blah
blah-blah-blah-blah-
blah-blah-blah!
But hold--
why merely fire you?
Why not do what
we've all been waiting for
and destroy you completely
in my patented
Emmy award-losing fashion?
[footfalls thunders]
Mr. Duckman...
make our day!
[bellowing ferociously]
[roaring and snarling]
DUCKMAN:
Okay. Let's talk benefits.
Now, right off, we can agree
that your dental co-pay
is too high.
Duckman must die.
Duckman must die.
Please don't k*ll me!
Please, please, please!
I'll do anything!
I'll be your sl*ve;
I'll lick your claws;
I'll vacuum your hide.
I'll-I'll...
CORNFED [straining]:
Must warn Duckman:
never run away
from enraged stuffed bears.
Run away!
[footfalls thundering]
[distant roaring]
Hurry, Bernice.
Duckman may have
only moments to live.
Bernice!
[panting]
[snarling]
[panting]
[panicked panting]
[panting]
No. It can't end like this.
Wait. That gives me an idea.
You could jump off the cliff
and go for help.
[snarling]
Dwahh!
Never mind.
I'll go with you-u-u-u.
[Duckman grunting,
thumping, rocks clattering]
[loud splash]
After everything
I've gone through,
Duckman better be dead
when we find him.
[Duckman screaming]
[grunts]
[mumbling]
Poor Cornfed, I bet you'd have
some helpful suggestion
if only there was some way
for me to hear
what you were thinking.
k*ll Duckman.
k*ll Duckman.
k*ll Duckman.
[footfalls thundering]
[roaring and snarling]
We're doomed. Doomed.
[mumbles]
Aha!
Thank God I always keep
a spare token from Peep World.
[coins clattering]
Yes!
Who da man!
I's da man!
Yikes.
[Duckman screaming]
[grunts]
[footfalls thundering]
[grunts]
[panting]
[snarling]
[distant roaring]
There's a disturbance
in the forest.
The hunt is up,
and may God have mercy
on the hunted.
[roaring continues]
Must... make it... across.
Must...
Hey, a Mento.
[roaring]
Dwahh!
[chuckles]
Now relax, guys--
gals-- whatever.
Say, those endangered
spotted whales
are sure making
a comeback, huh?
Hey, note to myself--
separate clear and colored
liquor bottles for recycling.
[footfalls approaching]
[snarling]
[Tarzan yells]
Quick! Cut the ropes!
[grunting]
[snarling]
[footfalls thundering]
[snarling]
Sing, boys.
Sing for your lives.
♪ Clang, clang, clang
went the trolley ♪
♪ Ding, ding, ding
went the bell ♪
♪ Zing, zing, zing
went my heart strings ♪
♪ From the moment I saw him,
I fell ♪
♪ Chug, chug, chug
went the motor ♪
♪ Bump, bump, bump
went the brake ♪
♪ Thump, thump, thump
went my heart strings ♪
♪ When he smiled,
I could feel the car shake... ♪
Thank you, Mr. Bailey.
Your wonderful show tunes
must've caused the civilized
part of our consciousness
to assert control
over our temporarily altered
genetic structures.
Well, I'm just thankful
that you two came through
this little
incident unharmed
because it gives me
the opportunity to do this.
[both gasp]
[both screaming]
Dad, can we keep
Mr. Bailey?
He's brought
laughter, music,
and black fishnet
pantyhose
into our lives.
Sorry, boys, but I'm not ready
to settle down.
All over this
great land of ours
there are other
glamour-deprived
boys and girls
that need my help.
As we say in the theater,
ciao.
Well, other than
Fluffy and Uranus mutating
into giant k*ller monsters,
this was a pretty nice trip.
We came to learn
about nature
and ended up learning
about each other.
And I saw a really big titmouse.
I think the bee venom
is wearing off.
I can't believe it.
I'm going to be all right.
I'm not going to die.
Quiet, Cornicles.
Ajax wants to say something.
Dad, could I go
with Mr. Bailey?
Of course,
you can, Ajax.
In fact,
let's all go.
Come on, guys.
♪ Clang, clang, clang
went the trolley ♪
♪ Ding, ding, ding
went the bell ♪
♪ Zing, zing, zing
went my heart strings ♪
♪ From the moment I saw him,
I fell ♪
♪ Chug, chug, chug
went the motor ♪
♪ Bump, bump, bump
went the brake ♪
♪ Thump, thump, thump
went my heart strings ♪
♪ When he smiled...
DUCKMAN:
Too salty.