03x01 - Noir g*ng

[bunniefuu]

[quacks]

[thunder crashing]

[mewing]

[thunder crashing]

[yowling]

[glass breaking]

[thunder crashing]

Yes, my son?

Bless me, Father.

Did you sneeze?

No, I sinned.

Oh, did you lie?
No.

Curse?
No.

Steal?
No.

Covet your
neighbor's wife?

No.

Come now, you
can tell me.

Did you throw her up against
the backyard barbecue

and procreate
your brains out

till she yelled
yippie-yi-yo-ki-yay?

No, Father,
I've done something worse.

I've betrayed my partner.

[gasping]

I know, it's the most terrible
sin of all, isn't it?

No. I spilled
my espresso.

But you still have
eight minutes.

I might as well hear
this sin of yours.

Thank you, Father.

[thunder crashing]
It was a dark and stormy Monday,

just like any other Monday

except for the sunny ones,
or the partly cloudy ones,

or the ones
with a cold inversion layer

and a 30% chance
of precipitation.

Things around the office
were a little slow.

My partner, Duckman, and I
hadn't had a real case

since the Catholic schoolgirl
disembowelings of '91.

And even then,
the schoolgirl got away.

[ringing]

That black thing on my desk
is going to explode!

Duckman Detective Agency.

He's crazy!
He's talking to it!

Wait. That's the phone.

This could actually be someone
calling with a case.

Tide.

Cold water, because
it gets my whites whiter.

And then, she walked in

and I knew our lives
were about to change forever.

She was the most beautiful dame
I'd ever seen.

And I never say dame, except
when creatively obligated

by a film noir parody.

[goofy laughter]

Can somebody cigarette me?

[inhales deeply]

I could tell she was trouble
with a capital "T."

I was ready with a capital "R."

Duckman was reduced to a puddle
with a very large pee.

Thanks,Ducky.

You look like someone
who can handle himself in bed.

Yeah.

And no doubt often does.

My name's Tamara.

Tamara le Boinque.

From the moment
she opened her mouth,

I wanted to sublet her tongue,
moved into her larynx

and redo the upper incisors
in mauve.

Well, not exactly mauve,
but mauve-ish.

I need your help.

Someone's trying to tuck me in
with a shovel.

Punch my ticket.

k*ll me.

Ya-ha! Sure.

Actually,
I knew that.
k*ll you.

All right.
Yeah, fine.
Absolutely. Sure.

Someone ran me off
the road last night.

Then tried to break
into my penthouse today

and crash my party of one
in the bathtub.

I barely had time to throw on
this trench coat

and climb down the fire escape.

Wait a minute!
You're naked under there?

First my neighbor dies
before I paid back that 20.

Now this.

I went to the local constabulary
and they didn't believe me,

but something
told me you would.

Yeah, well, this is one time
you're gonna have to prove it.

Prove what?

That you're naked.

Women come here all the time
saying they're naked

when they're really wearing
skin-colored body stockings.

Show us you're not,
we take the case.

Sort of a tit-for-tat,
tat-for-tit kind of thing.

Listen, handsome.

If you've got the itch,
I've got the scratch.

Here's a hundred

and there's more
where that came from.

There is?
Could I get it?

I know what you're thinking
but I won't use my hands.

Just my bill.
Might take five, ten minutes,

but I'll sniff it out.

What Duckman's
trying to say is

we'll take your case.

Of course,
we'll take your body...

fondle your case...
case your casabas...

take... take your case.

Remember at DDA, our motto is,
we want to see you

greased up and semi-conscious.

Happy. We just want
to see you happy.

We changed the motto?

Miss Le Boinque,
is there anyone you suspect?

Well, Nick at the club, where
I perform, said he'd k*ll me

'cause I had sex
with Frankie the bartender,

who said he'd k*ll me 'cause
I had sex with Bob the doorman,

who said he'd k*ll me 'cause
I had sex with Ray the bouncer,

who said he'd k*ll me

'cause I had sex with Lahos
the busboy, who said...

CORNFED:
So she'd been around the pool

more times than Esther Williams
on steroids.

There was something about her

that made me want to get
a membership at her "Y."

It felt good to have a real,
live client again,

not just the practice kind
built out of Legos.

We decided to go to
the speakeasy where she worked.

["As Time Goes By" playing]

Hey, you.

I didn't do it.

It wasn't me.

I didn't strangle the German
for the letters of transit.

I didn't s*ab the albino

and hide the Kn*fe
in the h**ker's G-string.

I'm innocent. Innocent!

Save it for the late show,
creep-ola.

I was just looking
for the men's can.

Duckman, maybe we should ask him
some questions about Tamara.

Tamara.

That woman makes me crazy.

And when I find her,

I'm going to chop her
into little pieces.

Then throw her into a stew

and feed her
to a pack of rabid dogs.

[laughing]

But you're probably talking
about a different Tamara.

See? Nothing. I say we head
over to the corner table.

Tubby guys sitting under fans
always know what's what.

Excuse me.
The name's Duckman.

A duck yet a man.

Gad, sir, you are amazing.

Right, well, I got a couple
of questions...

An inquisitive sort.
Excellent, sir.

A trait truly to be admired.

Look, I'm a detective...

Detective. Fascinating.
One never knows

what you're going
to say next, sir.

Maybe 'cause
you don't let me say it!

I want to know if you
know anything about...

Know anything. Huh.
Know anything.

By Jove, sir,
you are a character.

[laughing]

But I must be off.

I'm past due for my return trip
to the salad bar.

[laughing]

Salad bar.

[laughing]

Might want to munch on
a little more scenery

while you're at it!

Supporting players.

ANNOUNCER:
ladies and gentlemen,

[drumroll]
Drooligans is proud to presents

the sultry stylings of that
sleep-around slut of a singer--

who I'll k*ll if she has sex
with George the valet again--

Miss Tamara le Boinque.

Your buckets, gentlemen.

Bucket? What the hell
do we need buckets for?

[hooting]

Wa, hoo, hoo,
ha, hoo, hoo.

Waa, ooh.

Hello, boys.

Are you...

ready?

[cheering]

[drumroll]

♪ I'm a little teapot,
short and stout ♪

♪ Here is my handle,
here is my spout ♪

♪ When I get all steamed up,
watch me shout ♪

♪ Tip me over and pour me out. ♪

Of all the drool joints
in all the world,

she has to bring her act
into this one.

Pardon me.
Do you know Miss le Boinque?

Who's asking?

And by that I mean,
what's your name?

Why do you want to know?

Stuff like that, 'cause I
know it was you who asked.

The name's Duckman.
Where were you at 4:00

this afternoon?!
Throwing a rock
through a window.

Did it have a note
attached to it?

All my rocks do.

And could this be
one of your rocks?

It is one of my rocks,
but it just so happens

that my house was broken into
last night

and that rock was the only thing
taken out of my safe.

Uh-huh.

All right, the rock story
seems air tight,

but one thing bothers me.

He's the third
suspicious character

we've talked to.

The third one's
always guilty.

What the...?

[g*nf*re and screaming]

So much for the rule of threes.

It wasn't pretty.

The whole club had been sh*t up

and everyone was covered
in drool.

And that's not all.

Tamara was in Duckman's arms.

Well, all the really good parts
were in his hands.

I knew then that Duckman
had fallen for her.

The problem is, I had a secret,
a terrible secret.

I loved Tamara, too.

And I could tell
by the way she giggled

when we were hiding from Duckman
in the closet

and I showed her that little
trick I do with my tail

that she loved me back.

That's why I'm here, Father.

I've betrayed my partner
and I don't know what to do.

Please, tell me what to do.

I think maybe...
a diamond ring.

By golly, you're right.

Even though he's my partner,
I've got to follow my heart.

Thank you, Father.

I could have never made
this decision

if you hadn't listened to me
and cared.

Shopping channel?

If I buy
the three-carat zirconia

do I get the free place mats?

Corny!

What are you
doing here?

Uh... I'm on the case,
of course.

In order to properly
understand a client,

it's important
to step inside her life.

Tamara seems like someone
who likes to lie on her sofa

in a man's robe,
smoking a pipe

while admiring
her own jewelry

and setting her carpet
on fire.

Never mind all that.
What are you doing here?

Where's Tamara?

My house.

She wanted me
to stay in her bed tonight

in case the k*ller tried
getting to her while she slept.

I see.

Yawn.

Well, I'm a little sleepy.

I'll just leave you
to your decoying

and head home.

By the by,
I wonder if it's faster

going by way of your house.

[bangs]

[yells]

Corny, maybe you
should stay, too.

Not that I'm nervous or scared
or soiling myself.

I just thought maybe you'd like
a chance to do this with me.

Be a m*rder victim?

Ooh. Pinch me.

It would be like old times.

We can go swimming,
hiking and horseback riding.

We've never done any of that.

I know, I'm reading it
off the tampon box behind you.

Okay, okay. I should know better
than to try to lie to you.

I am scared.

And there's no one in the world

I'd rather be with
when I'm scared than you.

[grunting]

[Duckman clears throat]

What?

You're, uh, on my side.

Since when is this
your side?

Well, it is at home.

Then go home.

Please.

You can have
this nice, soft pillow.

[pleadingly]:
Please? Please...?

Good night, Duckman.

Corny...

What is it?

I can't sleep
with a hard pillow.

Good night, Duckman.

Corny?

Yes?

I was just thinking about how
lucky I am finding Tamara.

I never thought anything like
this would ever happen to me.

You know, in high school,
I was voted

most likely never to have
an attractive woman speak to me.

Also most likely to be indicted,
most likely to wear vinyl

and most likely to end up
on a street corner

wallowing in his own sputum.

Wha...?
Then don't leave your
yearbook lying around.

I'm going to marry her, Corny.

[thunder crashing]

And when I do, I want you
right there next to me,

sharing my special day
as my best man.

I love ya, Corny.

You're the best friend
anyone ever had.

[squealing]

Ooh...

[moaning]

Pant, pant.

Gasp, gasp.

[moaning]

[kissing sounds]

DUCKMAN:
Hey, Corny!

You're my best friend.

[snoring]

[alarm ringing]

Wow. What an
amazing dream.

Tamara and I were making out,
giggling and kissing

like a couple of high school
kids at lovers' lane.

But I can't remember
how it ended.

Did you have that before?

No.

Why didn't
you wake me?!

I thought you were awake.

[spitting]

I suppose this means
our weekend in Maui's off.

Yikes! That could've k*lled us.

It would've k*lled
Tamara for sure.

She sleeps diagonally

with her feet down here
and her head over he...

We'd better
turn off the power

or that lose wiring
will start a fire.

The fuse box is
in that closet

right behind
her collection

of Lithuanian
pleasure device...

Power off. Let's go.

Hey, how did you know

that door was a pull
instead of a push?

[thunder crashing]

This is going to be
the hardest thing

I've ever had
to tell you, Duckman.

I've spent the
night here before.

I'm in love with Tamara
and she's in love with me.

What?

There's no way.

She's in love with me!

No.

No!

You can forget about
being our best man!

Ow.

I couldn't get Tamara
out of my mind.

Who was trying to k*ll her?

Why did every clue
lead nowhere?

I couldn't get Tamara
out of my mind.

Who was trying to k*ll her?

Could they maybe
k*ll Cornfed instead?

Everywhere I looked,
I heard her voice.

Everywhere I turned,
I felt her touch.

Why does love taste so bitter
to a liar's tongue?

Why does hate hurt
what hardened hope heals?

How much wood
could a woodchuck chuck

if a woodchuck
could chuck wood?

And why is he sharpening
so many pencils?

What if we need
to write something?

Steve Allen
doesn't write that much.

Pudding head.

Turkey goop.

Toe-jam.

Simpsons wanna-be.

That's it!

Take that, porky.

No. You.

You little pork...

Why, I ought to...

Wow. It sure
is dark in here.

Yes. The interplay
between light and shadow

is reminiscent
of the German expressionist

school of filmmaking.

I keep forgetting.

You never went to college.

Mr. Duckman,
Mr. Cornfed,

I hate to interrupt
your wacky hijinks,

but Tamara le Boinque
is on the phone.

BOTH:
Who'd she ask for?

Cornfed.
Duckman.

Duckman.
Cornfed.

Okay, okay.

It was Mr. Duckman.

Whoo-hoo!

Excuse me, my porcine pal.

I've got to go a-meet
my girl a-friend.

And don't worry.

It's not my style to gloat.

♪ Niener, niener,
niener, niener ♪

♪ I'm the stud
and you're the wiener. ♪

Well, I'm sure
you and Tamara

can still be friends.

[yelp]

Whoo. College.

I'm so impressed.

Got to k*ll Duckman.

Take him out of the picture.

Set up Fluffy and Uranus.

Those patsies
can take the fall, yeah.

Then Tamara
will be mine, mine, all mine.

[evil laughter]

DUCKMAN:
I'm so excited.

Just you and me,
the future ahead of us.

Do you like kids?

I know do. In fact, I always
wanted a few of my own.

Hmm.
Anyway, where we going?

My grandfather's house.

They do weddings there?

Grampsy and I have a...
well, special relationship.

If something terrible
is going to happen to me,

I want to spend a little time
with him before I die.

Hey, don't talk like that.

Well, someone is
trying to k*ll me.

No, I mean don't use words
like "Grampsy."

It gives me the creeps.

I've always called him Grampsy.

I love him dearly,
like I love you.

Well, in that case, you
call him anything you want,

my wittle snookum-bookums...

Wait. You're right.

Let's not talk
like that anymore.

I can't wait to meet
my future grandfather-in-law.

And I'll do anything it takes
to make him like me...

except sponge him down.

There's something
about their skin...

No, no, you only have
to do one thing--

make him laugh.

You see, he's been
a little down lately

and, well, when Grampsy's happy,
that makes me happy.

And if I'm happy,

you're going to be very,
very, very happy.

We're on!

Fake dog doo?

They make fake dog doo?

[wheezing laughter]

And he says, "Good thing
I held my breath

or I would have
drowned in there."

[Grampsy laughing hysterically]

Ah, thank you, thank you.

No, you're marvelous, really.

Now, on a more tasteful note,

a blind proctologist walks
into a pie-eating contest.

[wheezing laughter]

Duckman, you're k*lling him.

And how.

No, if he laughs too hard,
his heart will give out.

Tamara wants you
to k*ll him.

Because the truth is,
that's not her grandfather.

It's her husband.

Her real name isn't
even Tamara le Boinque.

It's actually Tamara le Binque.

All this time,

she's been impersonating
her younger sister

after she k*lled
her last husband,

a thin man, for the double
indemnity insurance

she used to bribe
city officials

to get the water
rights to Chinatown

so she could finance

her search
for the Maltese falcon.

Lies! All lies!

And he's my grandfather,
I tell you!

He's my husband.

My grandfather.

My husband.

My grandfather.

All right!
I'll tell the truth!

He's my husband!

Sorry. We were
in a groove.

Go on.

I needed Duckman
to make him laugh.

His spastic humor was
the kind of low-brow crap

Emil actually liked.

Excuse me.

I've got something in my eye.

Real nice.

Look, Cornfed, it's you
I wanted all along.

I'm still rich
from the last guy's insurance.

Let's run away to a place
you've always wanted to go

with someone you love...

a secret place
you've dreamt about

but never spoken of
to a living soul.

Sorry, angel.

Maybe I do love you,
but he's my partner.

And when a man's
partner is hurt,

you're supposed to do
something about it.

You're going up the river.

When you get out
of Tehachapi

give me a call.

Or sooner.

Here's my home, office,
car, fax, beeper.

That's my private line

and my mother's number
is on the back.

I go there every Sunday.

Could you kind officers
loosen these?

I just hate handcuffs...

when I'm not in bed,
that is.

Zirconium?

Shaved ice.

It used to be bigger.

I'm sorry, Duckman.
Just thought you should know.

Before the police
took her away,

she said she actually
did love you.

You mean it?

Thanks, Corny,
for trying.

What's this?

The stuff that dreams
are made of, Duckman.

The stuff that
dreams are made of.