03x19 - The Amazing Colossal Duckman

[bunniefuu]

[noisy chomping and slurping]

[door opens and closes]

Howdy, next of kins.

Betcha didn't sleep a wink
last night

without my usual
protective presence.

You're right, Dad.

We miss those
odd rocking noises

from your bedroom that
normally lull us to sleep.

That's what fathers are for.

Mmm! A1.

Nature's hangover cure.

[belches]

Boys, I had an incredible night.

I went to that bondage club
on the bad side of town.

The one down the street?

That's right.

Guillermo's Discount
Papaya Enemas,

Nipple Bleaching
and Ferret Racing Ranch.

Clubs in this city
have such funny names.

Now then, prudence
and dry heaves

prevent me from going into
too much detail,

but at one point,

the girls on stage were
either lathering

or slathering each other--

I couldn't really tell
from where I was sitting--

anyhoo, I get aroused

so I haul my esteemed buns
on stage

and start doing a sort
of a mamba samba rumba thing

I've been working on
at the office.

Kind of a step-close-step
to a two-four b*at.

I get to the point where I'm
doing the pokey with my hokey

and that's when the cops
raid the place.

Flash forward through a few
hours of legalese mumbo jumbo

about bail hearings
and outstanding warrants,

I'm proudly walking out
the station doors

with this souvenir--

my mug sh*t

signed by each
of the arresting officers.

[growling]

Shut up, you hazy-headed
hunting decoy!

Your sordid anecdotes

are totally inappropriate
for your boys.

Thank goodness,
no other children heard them.

At least, according to
the latest Nielsen ratings.

Duckman, have you
gotten taller?

You seem less pip
and more squeak than usual.

Dad, we're going to go through
puberty together.

[grunts]

Get off me.

Look, I'll prove to you
you've grown taller

thanks to this conveniently
located box

of old family photos.

A-ha! Look, a former mug sh*t.

So many memories.

I can barely recall that
particular sex offense.

It was last weekend, you idiot!

Look, last night's photo
shows you're 5'3",

but in this photo, you're...



Duckman, you've grown
six inches in one week.

This can't be.

This is some sort
of group conspiracy, right? Huh?

Is that it? Who got to you guys?
Was it the government?

Was it the m*llitary
who doctored up these photos?

For the love of God, people,
you got to tell me.

Tell me! Tell me!
Tell me!!!

[screams]

Growth accelerating,
breath shortening.

Must seek medical attention.

But hospital's too expensive.

Medical costs have spiraled
out of control

thanks to the Republican
congress.

Instead, will go see
family physician...

Pinnstein, MD.

I thought you
left already.

[yelling]

[grunts]

Out of the way!

Medical emergency!

Desperately ill man
coming through.

[childish giggling]

Get out of the way!

Medical emergency!
Emergency!

MAN:
Left...

right... left...

Yes, Muriel, I knew our years
of groundbreaking therapy

would pay off some day.

[screams]

[horn honking
and tires screeching]

Help me, Doc. Something strange
is happening to my body.

Mr. Duckman,
as I explained
to you before,

those are called "erections."

In the future...

But I need help now!

Come on, Doc, I thought
since we're neighbors,

we could have some sort
of barter arrangement.

I see.

I'll give you medical services

and you'll give me...

I'm sorry, but what do you have
to offer in exchange?

Well, I'm a detective.

A detective.

So you conduct
investigations?

Investi-what?

[sighs]

[thumping and rattling]

Mm-hmm.

Oh, my.

Good Lord.

No.

Mr. Duckman, you have a
very rare blood condition.

[yells]

My thoughts exactly.

The catalyst

for your disease
baffles me.

Excuse my laughable
absurdity,

but have you
recently ingested

a combination of battery acid

aerosol deodorant
and Tiger Balm?

[chuckles]

As recently as last night.

Well, then,
apparently, the electrolytes...

In English, Doc.

Sorry. The battery has...

In English!

The square thingy in your car

has a goo inside.

The unique combination

of that goo

with the other items
you ate last night

has caused
this new blood condition.

Every time you get angry now,
your blood literally boils.

This, in turn, accelerates
your hormone levels

and causes you to grow.

But how do we cure this?

There is no cure.

You must simply take care
to avoid any aggravation.

Here's your bill.

Charge for office lighting,

additional fees
for speaking to the doctor,



Talk about your
hypocritical oath.

Physician,
heal thyself.

Nowadays, you need six kinds
of insurance,

a letter from a bank
and a sack of gold

just so you can wait
in line for some...

[yells]

Actually, this bill seems fine.

[panting]

This is horrible.

I'm turning into some kind
of monster.

Maybe I'm just getting
self-conscious.

Maybe it's not that noticeable
to others.

Hi, there.

How you doing today?

Please don't touch me.

I have children.

I don't deserve to die.

[screaming]

Good. Normal response.

Hey, deputy dog,
what are you doing?

This car was involved
last night in an accident.

That kid ran into me!
The moon was in my eyes!

My vision was clouded
by cheap alcohol.

Sounds credible to me.

This is a frame-up.

Never before has there been
such an open and shut...

Wait a minute,
I'm not done lying.

Why are you taking off?

You. You're huge.

My puny b*ll*ts would
be useless against you.

[screaming]

Hold la phone.

I sensed a begrudging admiration
on his part.

Maybe my new improved size

is making people
treat me differently.

Unless I miss my guess,

people are now going
to respect me.

This is great!

[squawking]

Hey, you, lady!

Stop talking to that guy,

'cause it's, uh, it's making it
humid out here!

And both of you
stop doing, uh...

all that other sort of stuff
you're doing,

'cause it's too... something.

Woo-hoo!

He's right.

You do talk too much.

[loud chewing and slurping]

Ah.

How was
your day, Dad?

Another day, another 12 inches.

Sounds like
something you'd overhear

on Hollywood...

Boys, I want you to finish
all your homework tonight

before watching TV.

Correction, boys.

You're to watch mindless TV
until your eyes cramp,

then do whatever
homework you can finish

as you're climbing
into bed.

Duckman,
that's ludicrous.

Actually, Dad's
got a good idea.

What?!

By limiting

our homework time,
he's challenging us

to think faster,
right, Dad?

Well, that's right.

Okay, what is going on here?

Dad's gained stature
in our eyes.

We now equate him

with other
well-respected Goliaths,

such as David Letterman,
Jeff Goldblum

and author-slash-genetic
oddity Michael Crichton.

Come on, guys.

Time for mindless TV.

First one there
gets to press his face

against the screen.

That's it, Duckman.

Everybody else may kowtow
to you now, but not me!

Eee-ya!

[yawning]

[loud crash]

Uh, Bernice, things around here

will be, uh, a little different
from now on.

Sounds good.

Hello, kids. You haven't
offended me yet today,

but let's go ahead
and assume you will.

[both gasping]

[yelling]

Ah, much better.

Those caraway seeds
have been there a month.

Top of the morn, Corn.

Good weekend?

Duckman, what's happened to you?

You noticed.

I must counsel you

against such obvious
overuse of steroids.

It's not jock rockets, Cornfed.

It's all natural.

I have
an incurable disease.

Will your luck never cease?

Not as long
as I keep ranting.

Now, straighten your tie,
you slob.

Heh--
three more inches.

Er, Duckman, your new condition
might lead to a few changes

in our business
practices.

It's already happened,
baby corn.

Out on the street, I ran
into our deadbeat client,

Mr. Griswald Vanderhorn.
He paid me on the spot.

Actually, he just kind of threw
his wallet at me and ran.

Probably had to catch a bus.

What I meant was...

My whole life's changed.

Suddenly, I'm a respected member
of my community

and being a peeping tom
is so easy now.

I'm happy you're happy, Duckman.

Sorry, no time for happiness.

Anger is my fuel.

Punch me out when you leave.

I've got a 1:00 rant
scheduled at the DMV.

Then I'm gonna
hang out on Main

and yell
at passing cabbies.

You believe that lady I, uh...

took out last night?

She charged me the same rate
she charges NBA players.

Love to
commiserate, Dad,

but I'm still upset
about you using up

all the hot water
this morning.

It's harder to reach
those hard-to-reach places.

Besides, what happened
to my saint-like stature?

It went the way
of our crushed toilet.

Dad, we need to talk
to you about...

Yo. Don't bogart
the cruncharoos.

Ohh...

But I wanted
the toy whistle inside.

[whistling]:
You, you, you!

It's always about you!

[gagging]

Have a little consideration
for me!

I'm the freak of nature here.

Are you? Are you really?

That's it.

I'm going to the office.

[grunting and cursing]

What the hell are
you staring at?!

[tires screeching]

Aah!

Whew!

Well, here's my turn.

The safe driver
always signals.

[yelling and screaming]

[bell rings]

[angry muttering]

[grunting and cursing]

Hello.
Sorry I'm late.

Didn't quite
get your name.

Ix-nay on the pig-Latin.

Who's the occidental
tourist?

He's all-star
fork ball pitcher

and rookie sensation
Nomo Wontdoshow.

He's willing to pay us
five million yen

to find out who's stealing
his emery boards.

Duckman, perhaps
if you wait outs...

Nonsense. How-do?

Name's Duckman.

Private d*ck.
Always like to do

the meet and greet with
new clients myself,

you know, press the
flesh and grab the gab

then let my intern here
take over the detail work.

Your offer of 5,000 pesos
is amusing.

Lets us know
you're a hard bargainer.

Not only is he not understanding
a word you're saying,

but you're crushing
his priceless arm.

Ah! Ooh! Ouch! Ugh!

Wants to think it over, huh?

Skittish sort, but I think...

Duckman, I think...

I think you should take
a leave of absence.

What?! Why?

You're no longer
performing

at your usual mediocre
level of competence.

Look, do I have
to remind you

what it says
on our office door?

"We've moved.

Forward all
credit inquiries to..."

Under that!

Duckman Detective Agency.

Not Cornfed, not Corn Pone,

not Cornacious J....

[muttering]

I'm sorry, Duckman.
Take some time off.

You have to stop growing
and the only way to do that

is to stop
your ranting and griping,

your interminable complaining

and constant
childlike whin...

[clears throat]:
I mean, you have

to change your temperament.

You're right.

I'll, uh, I'll go now.

Be a dear
and drag me by my feet.

Hey, down in front.

Quiet, you
bellyaching munchkin!

[self-conscious laugh]

Oopsie. Remember,
Daddy's not allowed

to gripe or rant anymore.

It causes him to grow and grow

and that makes his life
even more unbearable.

Hmm! Duckman,
are there any chips left?

I'll check the
kitchen, Bernice.

[screaming]

You stupid bi...

[laughing]

That's okay.

Accidents happen.

Dinner ready soon?

Not for you, big turd!

[laughing]

That's it!

I'll teach you!

[laughing]

Come back here, you ugly...

[breaking wind]

You! I've had quite enough

of your sassy back talk,
young lady.

[breaking wind]

Oh, man!

What have you
been eating?

Shut up, all of you!

Look what you guys did!

You just made me grow
another two feet.

I ought to...

[laughing hysterically]

What am I doing?

Stop ranting.

It's only going to
make me grow more.

Okay, okay, I'll stop ranting,
I'll stop ranting.

Just shut up!
Don't yell at me.

I'm only telling...
Telling me what?!

[screams]

Dad, you look weird.

Look weird?
Listen, punk, I'm...

Yow! What the..?

Down in front.

Shut up!

I've got enough...

[screaming]

[panting]

[yelling]

Duckman, you've
been ranting again,

haven't you?

Eh... no!

I suspected
things might come to this,

given your phenomenal lack of
will power and self-discipline.

Cornfed, I tried, really I did.

There's just no place
in this house

or anywhere in this city

for a height-advantaged guy
like myself.

I can't keep growing
like this,

but I can't stop griping
because everything sucks!

Ah... everything's succulent.

See? It's no use.

I'm now my own worst enemy.

I'm number two, so I try harder.

Cornfed, there's no place left
for me in this world.

There's only one thing
for me to do.

Right. I'll get you a g*n.

What? I meant
I have to go into exile.

Get me a g*n?

Er, to take with you into exile.

Oh. Yeah. Thanks, buddy.

Phew.

Well, g*ng,

your pappy's off to exile.

Boys, there comes a time

when every man must pass
on to his sons

the knowledge he's accumulated
over his lifetime.

[inhales deeply]

There is nothing...

nothing...

ointment won't cure.

Well, that's it.
Might want to write
it down somewhere.

Corny, you ready?

So long, boys.

Charles.

Mambo.

Ajax.

[screaming followed by thud]

Bye, Dad.
Bye, Dad.

[ship's horn blowing]

[sniffing]

Couldn't you have
gotten us a barge

without any garbage on it?

Uh... no.

They were out of them.

Bastards! Oh, well.

The only thing to do

is turn this into an adventure.

♪ Farewell and adieu ♪

♪ To you fair Spanish ladies ♪

♪ Farewell and adieu ♪

♪ To you ladies of Spain ♪

[with Cornfed]:
♪ For we've received orders ♪

♪ For to sail back to Boston ♪

[voices fading]:
♪ And so nevermore
shall we see you again ♪

♪ Farewell and adieu
to you fair... ♪

♪ For we've received orders
for to sail back... ♪

Hey! Land ho!

Thank God.

Say, pretty nice.

Over here's some sand.

Oh, and look--
over there's some more sand.

[laughing]:
I love it.

It's so... sandy.

[crying]

I can't lie to you.

It's lonely.

I'm scared, Corny.

Hold me.

Duckman, it'll hurt less

if we make it quick.

That's what I said
to that lady last weekend.

I think I'll go now.

Good luck, Duckman.

I'll keep your files organized.

So long, partner.

[ship's horn blowing]

I had files?

So long, world.

Physically and mentally unfit
for life within society,

I cast myself out.

Here, alone, I shall live

and here shall I die.

[sighs]

Here I have a world
with nothing to protest.

Maybe this is best for me.

Perchance I nestle
in the embrace of madness,

but suddenly, finally,
I am at peace.

[ship's horn blowing]

He's coming back--

old what's-his-name in the suit,

but why's he coming?

Maybe he's gonna
hit me up for money.

Ah! That's it!

The bastard's probably
out peddling subscriptions.

Must build crude w*apon.

Something strange about him.

D'wah! Geez! Cornfed!

I'm honored that
you took up my role

of ranting against the world,

but don't you think
you overdid it?

Hey, if you're thinking
that you're now

gonna live here with me,
think again!

Duckman, you have...

Just turn that stupendous

stink schooner of yours
right around.

Find your own island

where you can live
by your weird pig rules,

drive your own little pig cars,
and dance to your pig records.

Duckman, it's not I
who's become large.

It's you who's grown
small, very small.

This barren island is devoid
of any reference point,

so there was no way for you to
know your size was changing.

I'm... I'm small?

But why? How?

Through extensive medical
research, I discovered

that there's a flip side
to your blood condition.

Without human contact,

without an emotional bond
with other people,

your blood turns
cold and dormant,

your hormone levels decelerate

and you begin to shrink,
eventually to nothingness.

Duckman, if you stay here,
you will die.

But if I go back
to civilization,

I'll just keep growing
until I die that way, too.

What sort of
choice is that?

It isn't fair!

You know, that hurt more
than I would have expected.

Duckman, maybe you could learn
to balance your life--

offsetting your aversion to
society with your need for it

and, even if you
can't learn that,

wouldn't you prefer being around
people who care about you?

People who've
missed you?

Your boys, Ber... me.

There's a lot waiting
for you back there,

including a hot shower which,
frankly, you could really use.

Hey, Corny, it's working.

'Cause of contact with you,
I'm growing!

Cool!

So, here's what we'll do.

I'll keep living here,
and every so often,

you can come and visit me
and stay for a day...

or maybe just for 20 minutes.
I think that'd be enough.

Kidding!
'Course I'll go back with you.

Hey, I'm back to normal--
all of me.

Uh-h-h...

Hey, hey, this is much
smaller than originally.

[laughing]:
Honest. I swear.

Yes, I'm sure.

Hey, let's get out of here,
Cornfed.

A world without people
isn't a world at all.

Besides, this place is
just too damn sandy!

Cornfed, tell me of the world.

Have my sons
grown strong and sturdy?

Do people now wear
aluminum clothing?

Has man finally colonized
the red planet?

Duckman, you've only
been gone eight days.

Oh.

Well, how was I supposed
to know that?

It's not like I had a calendar
with me, okay, smart guy?

Okay, Mr. Filofax-day runner-
digital-electronic-organizer.

That's it!
Turn this sludge scow around!

I tried holding it in.

I tried being reasonable,
but I can't!

Not with comments like that!

Not with the world just waiting
to jump down my throat!

Duckman, look--
you're ranting

but you're not growing.

What were you
just eating?

I don't know--
pizza crust, some old clams,

motor oil-- 40 weight,
I'm guessing.

That unique combination must be

the antidote
for your blood condition.

Duckman, you're cured.

You can return home

without having to worry
about growing again.

Course, you've still learned

a lesson about balancing
various aspects...

I didn't hear
a word after "cured"!

The duck is back

and, boy, do I have a list of
things I'm p.o.'d about now!

Corny, let us
celebrate my recovery

by singing another sea chantey.

♪ Show me the way to go home ♪

♪ I'm tired and I want
to go to bed ♪

♪ I had some motor oil
about a minute ago ♪

♪ And it's gone
right to my head ♪

Yeah!

♪ Wherever I may roam ♪

♪ By land or sea or foam ♪

♪ You can always hear me
singing this song ♪

♪ Show me the way to go home. ♪

Another day, another 12 inches.