04x27 - Where No Duckman Has Gone Before

[bunniefuu]

[whistles]

[people jeering]

[honking]

[horn blaring]

Mr. Ajax, that was a little
too close for comfort.

Sorry, Captain.

I had to divert the power
from the main reactor

to heat up this Hungry Man
Romulan Salisbury steak dinner.

I'd heard tales of Simulac 12's

resemblance
to 20th Century Earth,

but I had no idea what
a god-awful suckfest it was.

You think
the Federation would mind

if we turned it into
an extra large asteroid belt?

[laughing]

You're unusually quiet,
Mr. Cornfed.

Don't you have any of your
famous Vulvan observations

to share with us?

Just one--

I suggest we stop buying
our transporters at Kmart.

DUCKMAN:
Space-- the final frontier.

WOMAN:
Duckman!

These are the voyages...

Duckman, I'm talking to you!

of the Starship Enterprise.
Its five-year miss...

[thud]

This is no time
for your freak outbeat poetry.

We have an emergency!

What's up,
Lieutenant Bern-Horror?

Bern-Hura!

I'm picking up a distress signal

from a colony
on the far side of the quadrant.

They're running out of supplies.

They-they're dying!

Wish I could help,
but I've got a crisis of my own.

I just scarfed down
a handful of Klingon souvlaki

and I got to run
to the little commander's room

to give new meaning
to the term "Captain's log"

if you catch my drift--

and if you come too close,
you will.

[chuckling]:
Captain's log...

Out of my way, Ironside.

Will someone please take
Commander Pike-ma-ma

back to her quarters

for her hourly
intestinal decrusting?

[buzzing]

Oh, for crying out loud,
enough with the buzzer.

Message received.

Mr. Charls-kov,

how long before we arrive
at the crybaby colony?

At present speed,

five hours
and 11 minutes, Captain.

I just hope we can
reach them in time.

They always exaggerate
these distress calls.

You get there and the horrible
plague engulfing the planet

turns out to be
eight guys with herpes.

Hummina! Hummina! Ha-wa!

[static]

What I wouldn't give
to neutralize her shields,

divert power
to my forward thrusters,

lock my sensors
on her coordinates,

and fire the ol' photon torpedo.

Who be she?

That's the leader
of the dying colony,

you turd-tufted
Trigonian tapeworm!

According to my scan
of the planet, Captain,

it's populated entirely

by a couple thousand lonely,
horny triple "X" babes

who are h-o-t, hot.

I see.

Red alert! Red alert!

Warp factor eleven-teen!

Mr. Ajax,
give us everything you've got.

There's no more power, Captain.

Oop!

Whee!

By all that's holy,

I vow to do
everything in my power

to save
those desperate young breasts...

I mean, inner thighs...

I mean, women.

Ah, hell. Breasts and thighs.

To infinity and...

Different franchise, sir.

Damn your Vulvan logic.

Captain's log, [chuckles]
Stardate 90210.

After a light breakfast,

we beamed down
to the planet's surface.

For my landing party, I chose
First Officer Mr. Cornfed,

Medical Officer
Art Bones McSalvo

and expendable crewmen,
Fluffy and Uranus.

As purely
extraneous cast members,

Fluffy and Uranus's
sole purpose

is to be k*lled upon arrival,

thus allowing the rest of us

to get on with the damn story.

Ah, the hell with it.

[screaming]

That's odd.

While the leader claimed
to be running out of supplies,

this planet is,
in reality, a cornucopia

of plant life
and vegetation.

WOMAN:
Perhaps it was
the only way to get you here.

I am Aurora,
Aurora Abramowitz.

[gasps]

Welcome
to the Pleasure Planet.

My people derive
great pleasure

performing acts which
give you great pleasure.

Simply ask for anything
of a pleasurable nature

and it's our pleasure.

Kids, you can stuff
the prime directive

where the solar system
don't shine.

We're talking orbital orgy!

Careful, Captain.

This may be a trap.

Oh, of course-- a trap.

That's what's happening here.

We're trapped.

A planet of
mouth-wateringly,
gorgeous horny women

want us
to pleasure them

in every bizarre,
self-indulgent manner

we can think of

and it's a trap.

Why couldn't I see it?

As you can see, Aurora,

my crew can use
a little R&R.

It's our pleasure.

Mmm.

Khan Chicken.

Duckman.

Does this mean the sex is off?

So, Captain Eric
Tiberius Duckman,

we meet again.

Khan Chicken,
you magnificent space bastard,

you'll never get away with this.

"Th' unconquerable will
and study of revenge,

immortal hate, and courage
never to submit or yield."

Milton.

Oh, yeah?

There was a young lady
from rowjob...

Silence!

Don't you see?

It had to come to this, Duckman.

You and I represent
the polarity of existence.

You are light
and I am darkness.

You are life
and I am death.

You are Hootie.

I, the Blowfish--

not the band,
but the poison ones

you get in restaurants,
you know?

Anywho...

this universe ain't big enough
for both of us.

So, I shall now annihilate you

in the most brutal and
melodramatic way possible.

The Ceti eel.

[panicked moan]

[cracking]

It will bore into
your cerebral cortex

inflicting an agony
both cruel and exquisite.

Feed, my pet.

[popping]

Hey, my sinuses feel great!

Do they sell these at Petco?

Next time, I employ a parasite
that lives off brains,

I will use it
on someone who has one.

[imitating Schwarzenegger]:
I'll be back.

Different franchise, sir.

I don't care.

I'm evil.

[evil laughter]

He's not really
a people person, is he?

We got to escape
before el pollo loco gets back.

It's time to haul out
the famous Duckman charm.

Oh, goils.

[delighted screaming]

Can I score
the space hubba jubba, or what?

And I'm preshackled.

Most illogical.

Uh, this time,
I got to go with you.

[smooching]

No, not the
Vulvan nerve pinch.

I know a variation of that,

except it only works
on the prostate.

Damn it!

Why hasn't the Enterprise
sent a search party?

Who the hell is in charge
up there?

[doltish laughing]

Is it possible for us
to pop a wheelie?

Logic dictates
that if we head to the surface,

the ship's scanners
can locate us.

Screw logic.

My very human intuition
tells me

we're sure to find daylight

by going into this ominous
pitch-black cavern.

Uh, Houston? We got a problem.

Different franchi...

Shut up!

Damn it, Eric,
what is it?

[both gasping]

BOTH:
Khan Chicken created
a duplicate Duckman.

A fascinating dilemma.

Which is the real Duckman?

What are you rubes
waiting for?

I'm 100% pure virgin Duckman.

As your commanding officer--

and for purposes
of Emmy consideration

lead actor in a prime-time
animated series, thank you--

I order you to blow Bozo the
Clone here to kingdom crumbs,

then start blasting the hell
out of everyone else you can.

I want k*lling, and lots of it

and if either one of you tries
to wussy out, k*ll him, too.

No. I am the real Duckman,

but I insist you not
sh**t the impostor.

He's still one
of God's creatures

and we must treat him
with respect, considerat...

[death ray zapping]

Good call.

Gee, thanks.

Your validation means,
oh, so much to me.

DUCKMAN:
Is he dead.

Damn it, Jim,
I'm a doctor, not a rodeo clown.

Well, I'm not a rodeo clown.

Who's Jim?

Fine! Have
it your way!

I'm a rodeo clown
and you're not Jim.

That is most ill...

[spitting]

Okay, fun stuff,
but where were we?

Oh, yeah, running like hell.

Set your butts on hustle,
space cadets.

I got me an appointment
with a 40 of Romulan malt

and a diaper full of tribbles.

KHAN:
The only appointment you
have, Captain Duckman,

is with death.

I considered many cool ways
to destroy you--

weird plastic things
that stick to your back,

giant flesh-eating clouds,

even a big molecular
destruction chamber

that I'm having custom-made
at a place in Van Nuys--

but then, sometimes

you want something
simple and brutal--

death by phaser.

Your phaser.

Good-bye forever, Duckman.

[frightened moaning]

[beeping]

That is most...

Uh, weirdo.

We got to get
out of here...

but how?

Captain Duckman.

Paging Captain Duckman.

White courtesy insignia.

Three to beam up.

Okay, any mail for me
while I was out?

Sir, we found
an alien stowaway.

It has no money,

but it can work off
its passage as a tailor.

Make it so.

Captain's log...

[laughing]

Captain's log...

[thunderous rumbling]

Red alert!

In the words of the Russian
playwright, Sean O'Casey,

"We've been hit."

It's Khan's chicken-of-prey.

Fascinating.

Apparently, Khan has developed
some sort of cloaking device

which allowed him
to follow us undetected.

Mr. Sulu...

Mambo.
Whatever.

It's show time.

Aye-aye,
Captain.

My lord, we've been hit.

Duh.

Maureen, release the Khan b*mb.

[screaming]

[grunts]

Cornfed.

Needs of the few
outweigh the needs of the...

Wait, no.

Needs of the many

can often be
as important as, uh...

Blah-blah-blah,
get me a soda...

Yes, sir.

And some of that great
filet of sole you make, too.

Of all the soles
I've ever tasted,

his had the most...
cumin.

The rest of you hypochondriacs

cauterize your wounds
on your own time.

Right now, I want fireworks.

Wait. I've got an idea.

Engage self-destruct mode.

And?

And I'll be in the shuttlecraft,
getting the hell out of here.

I understand there's a Hooters
on Rigel 12.

Don't you have any plans

that won't cost the lives
of your entire crew?

Unbelievable.

Okay.

Open hailing frequency
with Khan.

I'll pretend I'm surrendering

and as soon as his guard
is down,

we'll turn him
into intergalactic roadkill.

Yes, this is ingenious,
brilliant, foolproof.

You're on.

DUCKMAN AND KHAN:
Oh, you are too powerful for me.

I surren...

[both yelling angrily]

"We shall go on to the end.

We shall never surrender."

Churchill.

"Neener-neener-neener.

I'm a stud
and you're the wiener."

Duckman.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah.

KHAN:
Oh, yeah?

DUCKMAN:
Yeah.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah.

[laser zapping]

Duckman is... gone.

Oh, so is Khan Chicken.

ALL:
Yay!

[low rumbling]

[booming]

What kind of Federation
chicanery is this?

Yeah! What kind
of Federation chica...

Hey, wait,
I'm with the Federation.

[chuckles]

I always get them confused
with the Kiwanis.

Oh, no!
Wha...!

I...

am...

Kardassian.

Dwaah!

Hey, get your own wacky scream.

Greetings, your
skunk-headedness.

I am Duckman of the Big
Federation of Planets.

My mission is peaceful.

So, how's about you
return us to our ship,

so we can continue
our futuristic fly-bys?

I think not.

For decades, my people
have observed you primitives,

battling each other across
the vast expanse of the galaxy

and, frankly,
we're sick of it.

Plus, I got Khan
at 20 to one,

so I stand to make a mint.

Are you saying

you want us to engage
in fisticuffs

like common barroom barbarians?

Correct.

Okeydokey.

Ooh!

Direct hit to the old
dilithium crystals.

[laughing]

okay, in this sort of situation,

I usually opt for a thumb
wrestle to the death.

Or not.

Ooh!

[growling]

Come on...

Very well, Khan...

you force me to resort
to an ancient technique--

the wedgie!

Now, while you're busy pulling
your Underoos out of your colon,

I'll be doing what I do best--
running like a woman.

[panting]

Duckman to Enterprise.

Olly-olly-oxen-free!

What's the frequency, Kenneth?

Me llamo es Duckman!

Surrender now, Captain,

and I promise your death
will be swift and painless.

Really?

No. I'll probably

t*rture you for years,

then skin you alive.

He's cruel, but honest.

[yells]

I am one dead Duckman.

[chuckling]

"Dead Duckman"...

Even running for my life,

I'm incredibly funny.

There's... no way I could...

b*at King Khan

without some sort of... w*apon.

[sniffing]

Sulfur... I can use sulfur
to make an expl*sive.

But... what else?

Must think... back to
high school chemistry class.

Aw, hell,
the only thing I remember

is Marguerite Moretti's
tube tops.

Still, if I mix up
a bunch of chemicals,

something's bound to happen.

Let's see.

Some common quartz...

powdered manganese...

a little crushed basil...

one whole egg...

half a cup of baking soda...

some K-Y jelly...

and a quart of brake fluid...

shake, don't stir...

So, Duckman...

how sweet it will be to end
this centuries-old conflict.

Oh, Khan Chicken,

say... "ah".

Ah.

[whimpers]

I'm sorry...

Why did you want me
to say "ah"?

It's no use, Khan.

I give up.

Put me out of my misery.

Wait! That smell!

Sulfur!

[sneezing]

How did you know I had a rare,

incredibly-contrived allergy
to sulfur?

[groaning]

Now my angina's kicking in.

[retching]

[groaning]

Congratulations, Captain.

Quickly now, k*ll your enemy.

I won't k*ll him!

Yes-- he is evil
and I am good,

but... goodness calls
for something we...

primitive humans
are quite familiar with--

compassion.

The compassion
to spare his life,

because it is the just thing,
the good thing,

the human thing to do.

If... you... truly respected
the... sanctity of life,

then you... wouldn't...
watch us... fight.

You would...
get your rocks off...

at Danish donkey shows
like we normal people... do.

Get up, Khan.

I've emasculated you enough
for one day.

Let's show them
we can stand side by side.

There. You see,
Kardassian?

Compassion, forgiveness,
generosity...

these are the things
that make humans unique

throughout the universe.

Also cosmetic surgery.

Enough.

To our surprise, you have
demonstrated the capacity

to rise above
your petty differences

and unite against a common foe,

proving that your race

is the most dangerous
in the galaxy.

Therefore,
Earth must be destroyed.

[expl*si*n]

Damn. And I just
weather-stripped the patio.

Duckman, the Earth
is no more.

All right, let's not get
all weepy about this.

The important thing

is to make sure
our stories agree

when we get back
to Federation space,

because they are going
to be pissed.

But if you cover my butt,
I'll cover yours.

All right, Duckman.

Whatever you say.

You know, Kahn,
if I learned anything

from this little charade,
it's that you may be evil

and I, merely sleazy,
but we have a lot in common.

We both really hate
getting k*lled.

More than that,
Duckman.

You and I both care.

Yes. We do.

We're passionate people.

Yes. We are.

I've always wanted you.

I know.

[smooching]

No!

Oh, man...

That's the last time

I have a head cheese hoagie
before bedtime.

KHAN:
Oh, yeah?

DUCKMAN:
Yeah!