02x03 - Days of Whining and Neurosis

[bunniefuu]

[whistles]

[quacks]

Earth. Majestic, awe-inspiring,

and home to the richest people
in the universe.

Simply, hi.

I'm Dr. Conrad Milo
welcoming you

to the world-famous
Conrad Milo Rehab Center,

where affluent addicts go for
a quick fix of their careers.

It's methadone wishes

and withdrawal-induced dreams.

For wherever you find the rich

you'll find the rich
in a stupor.

Want a peek
at the grotesque luxury inside

where dependence
meets resplendence?

Sorry. Only the most privileged
get that privilege

for a wallet-wearing
$8,000 a day.

Most major platinum cards
accepted.

Is that the famous
falsetto-singing,

leather-clad pop star

who's tested more dr*gs
than the F.D.A.?

We can't say.

Could that be the blonde-haired,

green-eyed TV she-demon
whose bedroom bedlam

got her thrown off
three series in a row?

You didn't hear it from us.

So remember,
when you've got a secret shame

you want leaked to the world

so you'll have a sympathetic
and fault-free excuse

for your recent
outrageous behavior

think Milo.

So let me get
this straight.

You run a glorified cappuccino
and croissant

clip joint
where the rich and blitzed

get to spend two weeks
in a hot tub

instead of six years in maximum

as a pin-up boy
for a guy named Back-Door Billy?

Yes, and I'd like

to hire you for a job.
And a fine clip joint it is.

Have I told you how
impressed I was by the way

that former child star didn't
rob a convenience store

for over three weeks after he
checked out of your place?

So, care for some coffee?

I never touch caffeine.

Good. There's only one pot.

[screams]

What led you through
the hopelessly tangled
underbrush

of private security
organizations to our door? Hmm?

Stellar word-of-mouth?
Our fine client roster?

Those flyers we put up
in that public urinal?

I needed detectives
who were so low on the ladder

there was absolutely no way
anyone rich or famous

could have ever heard of them.

Hey. We may not have the
recognition of detectives

who go around "solving cases,"
but we do just fine, thank you.

What Duckman is trying to say
in his endearing-

yet-somehow-it-manages-to-scare-
all-our-business-away manner

is that we'd love to hear
about your case.

[burping loudly]

Exactly. Let's hear
what you got.

I believe someone
is trying to k*ll me.

Do you have any proof?
This note.

"Dear Dr. Milo,
I'm trying to k*ll you."

Hmm. Nothing more definite?

I found a g*n.

Probably a toy.

[bird squawks]

And a Kn*fe.

Proves nothing.
[squawks]

And this b*mb.

I get these every day.

[bird squawks]

Uh, next time,
you might want to tell me

it's on a timer,
you know, for rhythm.

I was thinking you
could go undercover

in my clinic and take
over my therapy group.

Yes, well, warn us next time
you're planning on thinking.

I'll investigate the lap
of luxury as a patient.

We'll let Corny
talk to the sickos.

Fluffy, Uranus,
get your fuzz butts in here!

[alarm buzzing]
[screams]

Time for my smoking patches.

BOTH:
You bellowed, Mr. Duckman?

I'm taking a vacation.

Where's my bathing suit
with the padded bulge?

It should be in here,
right next to your

foam rubber
pectoral enhancer.

[gulping]

Eeh! Ack!

Ugh! This lemonade
tastes terrible.

We were worried you were eating
too much sugar,

so we substituted
finely ground chalk.

Chalk?

Studies show

most adults are
chalk deficient.

And it's organic.

Oh. You like organic?

Well, there's nothing more
organic than a real live body.

[screaming]

[screaming]

Grilled to perfection.

Mr. Duckman,
perhaps when this is finished

an extra two weeks at the clinic
might do you some good.

Me? Ha!

Places like that
are for the weak, spineless--

people so blinded
by their selfish needs

they don't have a clue
what they're doing

from one minute to the next.

Duckman, you know those
are mothballs, right?

[chuckles]

Just so happens that my doctor
says I need more camphor.

DUCKMAN:
Almost there,
my cloved-foot comrade.

Time to mingle with
the millionaires,

gallivant with the glitterati,
hobnob with the hoi polloi.

And with any luck, of course,
keep a man from being k*lled.

Right, right, there's
always the side benefits.

Who is that?

God, I wonder who that is.

Touch me,
touch me.

[paparazzi groaning]

It's just a duck.

Cyrus Red Herring,
McGuffin Security.

Are you rich?
No.

Famous?
No.

Ever been sexually involved
with a political candidate?

No, but I did get approached

by an Arkansas state trooper
a few years back.

[blubbering]

Heh, heh. Well I guess you found
all the...

Ow!

[grunts]

That's where I put
my espresso machine.

[screams]

Whee!

[screams]

[grunts]

What the...?

Ugh. Look at this hellhole.

Rats, vermin...

body parts
spread all over the room.

[screams]

Dr. Milo.

Hmm... 9 and a half.

Hard to believe

these are the dismembered
remains of Dr. Milo,

the bloodied tatters
of his lifeless corpse

splattered on the walls
like so much worthless refuse.

You think that's bad?
Look at the room they gave me.

No air, no cable,
no continental breakfast

with those cute little jars
of grape jelly.

At least
Milo's suffering is over.

Sacrifice is often a part
of undercover work, Duckman.

Yeah, yeah. What's the story
with your shoes?

They're soaked.
Oh. Tee-hee.

One of the office girls
did a cannonball in my Jacuzzi.

Jacuzzi?!

Never mind that.
We have to start
our investigation.

What investigation?

The cops checked it out,
decided it was natural causes.

He exploded.

Hey, the human body's
an ever-unfolding mystery.

So, I'm famished.

How's about we blow this
pop psychology stand

and grab us a couple of dozen
greasy cheeseburgers?

Duckman, a detective
lives by his code,

and under that code,
the case survives the client.

By the way,
also under that code,

detectives get 20% off
at Red Lobster,

but don't even think
about that now.

I've done some preliminary work,

including a modest scale model
re-creation of the crime scene.

This is an exact
replica of my cell.

Actually, it's not.

My walls are asbestos-free.

Maybe the group therapy session
I'm taking over for Dr. Milo

will help us put a few more
pieces together.

Are you coming?

When pigs can fly!

I'm still not coming--
I'm tired, I'm cold,

and I've got to get
a room upgrade.

I'm sorry, Duckman,
but it's crucial

that we maintain
our secret identities

at whatever cost to
our personal comfort.

Doctor, it's up to 102.

Somebody got a fever?

No, it's my sauna.

Tell the other nurses
I have a session first.

If they get too warm,
the towels are optional.

[giggles]

Saunas, nurses, Jacuzzis?

Where the hell do you get off
telling...?

[screams]

Admittedly, the almost
godlike ramifications

could be a bit seductive.

As you'll see, they treat

a wide variety
of addictions here.

Most often, however,

they like to group patients
by profession.

[gibberish]

For instance, this is
the Entertainment Industry wing,

Television Subsection.

Child stars, writers over 25,
development executives...

Actually someone else
gets addicted for them

then they take credit for it.

This special section
is for celebrities

actually addicted to checking in
to rehab clinics.

With this class of clientele,
naturally,

they run
into scheduling problems.

So they have drive-thru rehab
for busy type "A's"

who just don't have
two weeks to give up.

Well, we're here.

DUCKMAN:
Hasselhoff is too a singer.

CORNFED:
Remember, Duckman,
this is a perfect opportunity

to interview
Dr. Milo's patients

but be surreptitious.

Cornfed, please,

I'd rather try
not to draw attention

to myself if
you don't mind.

Oh-oh!

My two favorite comedians

and that un-lanced boil
one of them was married to.

Roulette, Roxanne, Boil!

Remember me, Duckman,
private eye?

Do a lot of undercover work?

Actually, you do look
kind of familiar.

Something just came up
that reminds me of you.

Oh, yeah, my lunch.

[laughing]

That's telling
him, Roxanne.

That's really
telling him.

Shut up, canker-yanker,

or I'll cut off
your alimony.

[laughing]:
That's telling
me, Roxanne.

That's really...

And look-- is that

Juan Jesus Maria Ostalez?

$6 million shortstop,

role model and substance abuser
due to the pressure of making

$6 million?

And Senator Steven Stark.

One of the great
drunken skirt-chasing
patriots of our time.

Ahem. Yes. Well, if you'll all
be seated.

Thank you. I'm Dr. Gelman.

No, you're not.
Yes, I am.

No, you're not.
Yes, I am.

What are you talking about?
You're...

My name is Dr. Gelman,

Dr. Nathan Gelman.

Nobody knows me here,
so I'm introducing myself.

Oh... yeah.

[chuckles]
Nice to meet you,

Dr. Cornfed.

[sighs]

In light of Dr. Milo's
tragic demise,

I will be taking over
his sessions.

Why don't you each tell us
who you are,

what you're doing here...
Hold it. Time out.

Priorities here.

Can everyone check
to see if you got any

partially unsmoked butts
stuck to your shoe?

I got my butt stuck
to his lips.

Does that count?

Yeah.

[laughing]:
I'm such a dink.

Hey, Shemp, you always act like
such a suck-up, no-talent pile?

No. Sometimes I sleep.

I'll start.

My name is John...

I'll start.

Um... my name is Roxanne.

I'm here 'cause, like,
I told the press

I'm addicted
to, like, booze or something

so I'd have an excuse
for f*ring everyone

off my show all the time.

Yeah, yeah.
Hate to yawn and run,

but happy hour
is only 60 minutes long.

It's obvious you hated
Dr. Milo for exposing
your little fraud

so you k*lled him.
End of story.

k*lled him?
I loved him.

He showed me how
I was really addicted

to attention
and being sucked up to.

Sorry. Senator?

Hello, I'm Senator Stark.

I like to drink, smoke,
lie, steal

and fondle anyone
within reach.

[chuckles]
Join the club.

I did. It's called the Senate.

Thought it'd help my image
to get reformed.

And if that doesn't stick,

I can always run for mayor
of Washington, D.C.

Okay, watch my dust. 15 minutes
to the Knockers Galore matinee.

Ol' Filibuster Brown k*lled Milo
because he was about to expose

this pervo's taste for
sweet young legislative bodies.

Quite the contrary.

He devised a unique way

to help me overcome
my biggest problem.

See, whenever I touch
this mechanical Senate page

I get a shock-- haiku!--

and the shock I get-- gymkata!--

is designed to keep me--
dimsum!--

from wanting to touch it.

Aversion therapy--
by associating pain

with a specific pleasure,

you'll be conditioned
not to do it again.

I doubt it.
He's so damn cute.

Yo, Senator Juicy Fruit, save it
for your next joint session. Oh!

Okay. Name's Roulette,
and I'm here

'cause my career was shakier

than Roxanne's flabby butt
after a jumping jack.

Badda-bing, badda-bang,
badda-boom.

Gotta run! Two-for-one sale at
the rubber goods store.

Another arrest.
Anyway, blah, blah, blah,

k*lled Milo
'cause you hate everybody.

What'd they bus you in
from a head injury ward?

Milo made me
confront my anger.

Showed me it's wrong to hate
those who are different than me

except for h*m*, saggy-breasted
women's libbers

and those third world types
with funny accents.

Thank you, Roulette,
for expressing

what millions of white trash
neo-Nazis would love to say

if they could hide
behind the First Amendment

under the guise of comedy.

Yep. Well, now that's wrapped
up, let's book.

Got a jones for a triple scoop

of that tuna musk ice cream
at...

What the hell
are you staring at?

You mean
you expect me to join in

on this "fruit of the loon"
club?

Ah! Don't turn my crank.

Unlike you losers,
I don't have an addiction.

Duckman, you're living
in a glass house
with Mr. Denial.

Think of us as the men
in the moving vans.

It's clear our newest
constituent is filled

with fear and self-loathing.

I think we should help him
break down these barriers,

starting with a warm
and very wet group hug.

[screaming]

Duckman must die!

Duckman must die,

and I will be the one
to end his misery.

I'll roast his heart on a spit,

and then I'll wash it down

by sucking all his precious
bodily fluids.

Wait a second.

I can't suck
my own precious bodily fluids.

I already tried that
in high school.

[screams]

How much can one duck take?!

A whole week without caffeine,
nicotine, women!

Okay. So I once went three years
without a woman--

no, six if you don't count that
open house day at the morgue.

[wailing and howling]

[ecstatic yelling]

Oh, wow!

Whoo-hoo! Whoo-hoo!

[carnival music playing]

[yelling]

MAN [with Jamaican accent]:
Hey, Duckmon.

Me be cool, mon.

[echoing]:
How 'bout you?

DUCKMAN:
What's happening to me?

I'm surrounded
by hideous visions,

horribly misshapen monsters!

[screams]

Duckman! There you are.

It wasn't easy, but we managed
to sneak in here

posing as a singing
mother-dominated Mormon family

who've turned to vice
because their better days

are behind them.

And we only came here
out of our genuine

love and concern
for you, Dad.

Oh, look! There goes
the entire cast

of Beverly Hills Adjacent!

Oh, yoo-hoo!

Cheyenne, Dashiel, Elizabeth
and Joann St. Croix.

And here comes
rock star stash.

People magazine
voted him

most addicted man
in America.

Hi, kids.
Nice of you to come by

and see your dad.

Whoa. Sounds like
all those years of being fried

really took their toll.

[man retching]

All right! The anchorman
from CNS just vomited!

[cameras clicking]

[farting]

Good news, Duckman.

I just placed first

in the Milo Clinic Celebrity
Pro-am Golf Tournament.

Oh. And I'm closing in
on the m*rder suspect.

[g*nshots, Duckman screaming]

If we solve this case,
I can get out.

Solve case, get out.

Solve case, get out.

More rock, less talk.

Solve case, get out.
Solve case, get out.

Solve case, get out.
Solve case, get out.

Solve case, get out.
Solve case, get out.

Solve case, get out.
Solve case, get out.

Solve case, get out.
Solve case...

[both grunting]

[yells]

[grumbling]

MAN [over PA]:
Your attention, please.

Will all suspects
in the m*rder of Dr. Milo

please report
to the lecture hall

for the singling out
of the k*ller.

There will be door prizes.

[all chattering]

Say "compulsive aggressive!"

Thank you all for coming.

I'm pleased to announce
I've solved Dr. Milo's m*rder.

His k*ller is in this
very room with us, now.

[all gasping]

Initially,
I believed

the doctor to be
yet another victim

of your common, everyday
spontaneous combustion,

until I noticed his remains
had an odor vaguely reminiscent

of Northwestern Wisconsin,
i.e. dairy country.

This was especially curious

considering Milo's
having overcome

a childhood addiction
to the lactose

found in dairy products--
an addiction, which,

in conjunctionwith a strange
glandular condition

caused him to swell
to 340 pounds by age eight.

[gasps]

On the night of the m*rder
the doctor retired

to his study
for his nightly repast

of beef Klasky and potatoes
Csupo... or so he thought.

Mm... mm...

[gagging]

Milo's potatoes
had been replaced

with ultra-rich
vanilla ice cream

causing his taut body to revert
to its childhood girth.

Hoping to counteract the effect

with healthier food,
he bit into a banana,

but sadly, said banana
had been replaced

by a banana-shaped wedge
of Swiss gouda.

Desperate for relief,
Milo tried

to brush the taste
from his mouth

but as any child of four
could tell you,

the A.D.A. does not recommend
brushingwith Cheese Whiz.

In a last-ditch attempt to pass
the offending substances

through his system

he rushed
to his trusty water cooler.

Regrettably, the water had been
exchanged for Farmer Fred's

grade-A pasteurized milk--

that is, the new see-through
Crystal-lite version.

And that, as they say,
was that.

[Milo screaming]

[expl*si*n]

Finally, Dr. Milo's remains
were dumped into the toilet,

the m*rder*r thinking
they'd be flushed away forever.

Little did anyone know,
however,

that the facility's waste
and sewage

never actually leave
the building.

MAMBO:
Go on, Corny.

Tell us who
the m*rder*r is.

Tell us who did it.

You want to know
who did it?

Okay. I'll tell you.

They all did it.

[all gasp]

All five of them played a part.

Four of them responsible
for switching a different food.

One of them for the demeaning,
degrading

and ultimately unsuccessful job

of flushing the remains
down the toilet.

[laughs nervously]

And all because
they were being denied
their addictions.

mass tantrum
by a group of spoiled children,

who in their whole lives
have never been told no.

This is outrageous!

You can't prove we
did anything wrong!

Yes, he can! Look!

If I remember correctly,

the N.R.A. g*ngb*ng special--

for the times when nothing
but a group k*ll will do.

And I'd recognize
those trigger fingers anywhere.

Okay. We did it

but we have to ask Dr. Gelman,

how did you know?

As fate would have it,
my own addiction--

m*rder, She Wrote
reruns on USA.

Check local listings
for show times.

I knew if I came up with
a preposterous solution

that had a blatant disregard
for the facts

and defied all logic

then told it in flashback,
it would be true.

[clamoring]

[door opening]

Monkey's off our backs.

We're going home.

[grunting]

I, Duckman, have captured
the m*rder*r.

BEATRICE:
Zip it, Dorkman.

While you were out playing
slap and tickle

with your bondage buddy,
Cornfed already solved the case.

Milo's patients did it.

That's impossible!

I almost
k*lled myself capturing him.

He has to be guilty. He has to!

[weeping]:
He has to be guilty.
He has to be the guilty one!

I want him to be guilty.

Cyrus Herring, D.E.A.

I've been undercover here
for three months.

These people were putting
unadvertised food additives

in their kelp.

No charges.

It's enough punishment
just being him.

Want me to drop these five off?
I pass a jail.

ROULETTE:
I was thinking we could stop off

for a hot dog.

Speaking of hot dogs,

you ever wonder why they call
them franks?

I mean, why not stans
or bobs?

Poor guy. No one told him

they're not funny
after they've cleaned up.

ROXANNE:
Like, now that we got caught,
are we going to have to spend

another two weeks
in m*rder rehab?

BOIL:
We could buy our way out.

[chuckles]
We've got money.

Well, she does,
but I get to use some of it.

Isn't that right, dear?

Isn't it, dear? Dear?

ALL:
We didn't get autographs!

Yo, Agent Orange, you
haven't heard the last of me!

Somehow, someway, someday,
I'll pin this on you!

Duckman, he didn't do it.

He's just a seemingly
suspicious character

here to throw us off track.

Think about it--

"Red Herring"?
"McGuffin Security"?

Never mind.

Shall we rejoin
the world?

[farting]

Duckman, though Cornfed
was, as always,

the effective partner,

I am impressed by all the
running and fighting you did.

Both sides of your face are
still symmetrical

like you didn't even
have a stroke.

You're right, Bernice,
and I... I am feeling stronger.

I-I-I can see
past my hands!

My hair doesn't hurt!

I'm dried out! It worked!

This changes everything!

From now on, it's pinto beans
for breakfast every day,

sex without a prosthesis.

I've turned myself around.

It's time to meet
the new and improved Duckman.

[shouts]
Hey, you! Bob Noxious.

Haven't you heard the stats
on secondary smoke?

Ah... a whole new world.

[inhaling]

And how better
to start that world

than with a pound
of bacon and some curly fries!

And coffee filters, used!

I'll wear them around my face
like a surgeon's mask.

Hey, nurse!

I got a thermometer that will
make you bedridden for a week.

Where you going?
It's time for my exam.

See? I'm turning my head
and coughing.

[fake coughs]
Now it's your turn.

Nurse?

Nursie?

Nurse!
Autographs!

[people clamoring]

Nurse, nursie!

[clamoring continues]

MAN:
I loved your last movie!

I could use a drink.