04x05 - From Brad to Worse

[bunniefuu]

[static crackles]

And in conclusion,

since we live
in an insane world,

maybe it's time we give
insane solutions a chance.

I'm Duckman,
and that's one duck's view.

Uh, ye-yes...

Well, please remember
that the views of Duckman

in no way reflect
the views of, uh... anyone.

Huh? Huh? Pretty good, huh?

I think I got
my message across.

That you're a broccoli-
brained mulch monkey?

Yeah, I think that read.

I never actually heard

someone encourage kids
to drop out of school.

Test scores drop every year.

Let's face it,
American kids are stupid.

Get them off the fast track

and on the fast-food track

while we genetically engineer
a master race of better kids.

I'm tempted to die

just so I can
get a head start

on spinning
in my grave.

Okay, go ahead,
eat my kishkas out.

When public reaction
crystallizes,

my words will be
remembered as...
Ahem.

Public reaction
is already starting

to crystallize
around your car.

[mob banging on car]

[smashing windows]

Looks like
a vexed populi.

Well, no problem.

When we're ready,
Ajax will distract them

with one of his famous
fake epileptic seizures.

Duckman, those
aren't fake.

Semantics.

Anyway, Ajax, if I know
the average Joe

while you're doing
the locomotion,

they'll steal
your wallet and shoes,

letting us escape.

What do you say, son?

I'll go find
a strobe light.

Duckman, don't you
think it's odd

that the station
would write to you

out of the
clear blue sky

and ask you to do
a commentary?

Not at all. I'm a well-known
local businessman,

a leader in my community,

and I write over 600 crank
letters a year

to the local paper.

Yes. My favorites were

"English-only laws:
Let's make them international"

And "Cub Scouts:
The enemy within."

Yeah, but the classic was

"African American--
black or n*gro,

they'll never make
another Sammy."

[sobbing]

Ajax, why
are you crying?

Because my lacrimal ducts
are full,

but we can talk
about that later.

I just saw something sad
in the lobby.

This homeless guy, he had lost
his beloved dog Sparkle,

and someone had told him
Sparkle was here,

but it wasn't true.

He was so disappointed.

Huh, of course he was.

With these bums, today's pet
is tomorrow's brisket.

Hey, it ain't my fault

this gutter geezer
lacks a shack.

"Oh, I'm homeless. Help me."

Huh! These dumpster-dwelling
ragbags better learn

there's no such thing
as a free lunch.

No one just gives a bum
free room and board for life.

Unless the bum marries my sister

and I'm fresh out of those.

What about your...
other sister?

Oh, right. Dorothy's
house landed on her.

Look, there he is.

DUCKMAN:
Oh, no!
It can't be!

I know him.

Uh... I mean,
he's a...

total stranger.

De-Definitely
not someone

Corny and I knew
in high school.

CORNY:
From high school?

Let me see.

Gone now.
Wasn't him. Never mind.

And even if it was,
I wouldn't remember him...

or what happened.

Ow!

Talk about a bummer.

Okay, Legionnaires'
disease. Get it?

[guffawing]

Corny, you are chico
and the man.

Anyway, Dinkler's
on the w*r path.

He's been looking for me.

Lucky for me,
he didn't look in

Hassim's Cut-Rate
Candy and Pong Parlor

where I was blowing all my grit
money on candy cigarettes.

[gulping]

[burping]

Perrier?! They sell water?!

It's crazy.
Ow!

I can't believe all these stupid
products they're trying--

light beer, low tar cigarettes,
personal computers--

while my letters
telling Coca-Cola

to change its formula
go unanswered.

What about you?
Anything happening?

Dinkler?!

He was here?!

Twice. The second time

the veins in his neck
were all bulgy.

What's his problem?
What did I do?

Well, you sutured
Mr. Krump's lips,

smeared liquid heat
in the pep squad's muffs,

painted "Blue Oyster
Cult Rules"

on Coach Marcus's car,

and thanks to you,

Miss Finch
went to live

with the nuns
for a while.

Ha, yesterday...

but what did
I do today?

Oh, Brad's looking for you, too.

You know, he really likes you.

What are you saying,
that he's junior minty?

A pile driver?
He flies the red-eye?

He likes the center
square to block?

No. He looks up to you,
that's all.

Brad sees you as a role model.

Though for what role,
I don't know.

Huh. Seems the kid's
got more snap

in his cap than I realized.

I should take him
under my hai karate-soaked wing

and let him drink deeply
of the stagnant waters

of my 16-year-old pool
of experience.

And speaking of pools,

it's time for the girls'
swim team practice.

[chuckles]

♪ I found my thrill ♪

♪ Boob, je-boo ♪

♪ Boob, je-boo ♪

♪ On Blueberry Hill... ♪

I'll become his partner

the day the U.S.
gives back the Panama Canal.

[groans]

[woman and Duckman
moaning passionately]

WOMAN:
Oh, Duckman...

DUCKMAN:
Oh!

WOMAN:
Mmm...

DUCKMAN:
Oh, mama!

[on tape]:
Hum-mana, hum-mana,
howwy, hum-mama...

Oh, sorry, Duckman.

Color me snoopy,
but what were you doing?

Listening to a tape
I recorded of a romantic night

with a special lady
now living with the nuns.

Enjoying magnetic memories
of a night

when desire's aroma
mingled intoxicated

and left us spent but grateful,

entwined on wings of light.

Gee, I thought you
were masturbating.

[drumbeat]
Oh, sorry,

they're delivering
the new drums

for the marching band.

Hey, be careful!

Duckman is trying to masturbate
up here!

He can't concentrate
with all this ruckus.

Uh, Brad, I really wasn't...

I suppose now he'll probably
have to start all over again.

Happy?

Brad, it's not
necessary, really.

Oh.

BRAD:
Never mind. He's done.

I took care
of it, D.M.

Thanks, but I wasn't
masturbating, I swear.

I was just oiling my mitt,

and I mean that
non-euphemistically.

I believe something
as beautiful as masturbation

should wait
till you find

someone you love
enough to marry,

and then when she never
lets you touch her again,

that's when sex for one
becomes so magical.

And I think
that's worth waiting for.

Wow. Will I ever find someone
who loves me enough

to never let me touch her again?

Oh, you will.

And when you find her,
you'll be together forever--

like Sally and Burt,
Cher and Greg,

Rod and Britt,
Claudine and Spider--

for always.

BRAD:
Mr. Dinkler...

I... we... I...

Shut up, Gilliland.

Duckman, is that
the school's

quadraphonic
tape deck?

Uh... yes, sir.

I, uh, commalrated
the filamomer levels

against the chegemission specs.

I know what you
were listening to.

That air vent leads
right to my office.

It was disgusting smut!

Anyway, today,
I'm being photographed

for the Santa Rosita
Star Sunday supplement.

Now, I'm not pointing
any fingers,

but if you disrupt this,

I will not
only expel you,

it'll go in your
permanent record!

You'll be
blackballed!

[screams]

It's a figure of
speech, Gilliland.

Oh.

Duckman,
you're worthless.

You're flushing
your life away.

One more prank,
and your future

is history!

[cymbals crashing]

DINKLER:
Howard, get this drum equipment
out of the hall!

I'm going to get
that Dinkler.

I'll fix his wagon

once and for all!

Aah!

I remember now.

I got back at Dinkler
in a major way,

but Brad took the rap
because he liked me

and then he got expelled
for it and disappeared.

That must have begun
his downhill spiral

that made him end up
a broken and homeless man.

I've got to confess,
clear his name.

Boy, then I'd get in trouble.

Ha... okay, now I've got it.

I'll help him get back
on his feet.

Help him turn things around.

I've got to help him.

Hey...

I told you,
I'm not done.

Brad Gilliland?
I still can't get over it.

My God, Corny, how did we
let Americans sink into

this kind of poverty
and misery?

Many socio-economic
factors contrib...

Uh, hello!

Not real reasons.

I want a gross
oversimplification,

I can slap
on my car bumper

so I can delude myself
into thinking that

I'm doing something.

Oh, okay. A flag-burning
amendment will fix everything.

Thank you.

Are you sure
Brad's here?

I checked with
the TV station.

He lives in a
refrigerator box--

something about it
having a big "W."

A big "W."

You know, we were
all surprised at how selfless

you're being with Brad.

Look, I just have a...
you know, hunch

that he got a raw deal back
in high school--

taking the heat for that
infamous Dinkler incident.

I'll take him home, feed him,
clean him up

make it up to him for what I...

think someone else did to him.

And I'll start investigating.

Of cour...

investigate?

The Dinkler incident.

If we can find out
who really did it,

we can clear Brad's record.

Huh?

Uh... right, yeah.

[splashing]

This filthy pit
makes you

appreciate
how lucky we are

to have homes.

You remember that, boys!

Westinghouse.

This is it.

I don't know how
he'll react to me--

I mean, to us--

being from
his past,
you know,

this may be
traumatic.

Oh, my God, Duckman!

And Cornfed.

Wow, what a reunion!

Hey, come on, who remembers

the Santa Rosita High
fight song?

Come on,
who remembers it?

I sure don't.

But if I wrote it today,
it'd go like this:

♪ Santa Rosita march on high ♪

♪ Honor and love ♪

♪ And milk and pie ♪

♪ Cornfed and Duckman
are back so ♪

♪ Nothing I lack,
'cept cr*cker Jacks ♪

♪ So don't be shy ♪

♪ Dancin' wise ♪

♪ 'Cause we're Santa Rosita
High guys! ♪

Hi, guys.

What a day!

First Sparkle
comes back,
now this.

Oh, here's Sparkle.

Good dog.

Well, Sparkle,
what a big doggy you are.

Yes, good dog.

You know Sparkle's
not a dog, right?

[ferocious growling]

He likes you.

[gobbling noisily]

It's true.

Sewer water tastes different
in every city.

Like in Phoenix, it's a
mocha/lemony kind of taste.

In Portland, it's more peanutty
with a, with a sewage quality.

Bernice, this soup
is deee-licious!

What did you say
it was called?

Uh, soy sauce.

Sounds fancy,
but it's good eating.

Any left?

[exhaling loudly]

Gee, in movies,

homeless guys turn out
to be piano prodigies

or great surgeons, where their
homespun brand of wisdom

brings troubled families
together,

but Brad's none of those.

I didn't think
it was possible

to talk for an hour
about sewage.

And what's in
the package?

He never lets it
out of his sight.

Can we go to Portland?

[doorbell rings]

Hey, Corny, I understand

if you didn't
find anything

with your little
investigation.

Well, you gave it
your best sh*t.

So why don't you take
a few weeks off,

maybe try Cabo or...

Actually, Duckman,
I found something
that can tell us

once and for all
who did it.

[gasps loudly]

I mean, great.

I snuck into Dinkler's
old office

and found this behind
the credenza.

A faded Polaroid,
no image at all,

but the date on the back matches
the date of the incident.

Dinkler was having his picture
taken that day

and, somehow, one of the
cameras went off

photographing
the perpetrator.

[background music a la Mission
Impossible themeplays]

Damn, I must
have missed one.

Uh... I said,
"Cram unjust
math piston."

Uh-huh. Are you
having a stroke?

I haven't decided yet.
So what now?

Silver iode methanyl will
partially restore the image.

I can then use my computer
to redefine the missing pixels.

It could take a while.

Well, no rush.

Take your time.

A job half done
is ne'er begun.
See you.

Huh?
[door slams]

Okay. Got to get Brad out

of my house and on the dole,

but to impress them down
at Social Services

I need the ugly Bradling
to click into swan mode

and before Corny peeps that pic.

Come on, Brad,
it's makeover time!

[music playing
throughout montage]

How do I look?

Like a million bucks.

You'll have an apartment,
a job

and staggering
consumer debt

by the end of the day.

Duckman, except
for Sparkle,

you're the best
friend I ever had.

Other people may say

they have a heart as big
as all outdoors,

but yours is actually
that big.

I'm amazed it even
fits in your chest

without it being
freakishly large.

Enough already.

Don't you see?

I'm the reason you're...

Back on my own
two feet.

Now, let's go,
buddy.

We've got a future
to build.

With you by my side,
nothing can go wrong.

[siren wailing]

You're under arrest
for the theft

of the credit card
of José Eber,

hairdresser
to the stars.

He did it.

♪ Moses came to Egypt land ♪

♪ Said, "Let my people go" ♪

[falsetto]:
♪ Pharaoh, Pharaoh Man ♪
DUCKMAN: Brad!

[own voice]:
♪ Then up spoke
the Pharaoh Man ♪

Brad!

♪ No, damn Moses,
I said, "No"... ♪

Brad!!

Thank you!

All right, now, look.

When the Social Services joker
gets here,

let me do all the talking.

If words were cherry stems,

my tongue would be in
Sherilyn Fenn's mouth.

[door slams open]

Name's Tyler Fitzgerald.

But you can call me
the "Social Services joker."

I am so sorry,
Mr. Fen-davin-
savin-avin.

It's an enzyme thing,
hard to control.

I'm Duckman, and this
is Brad Gilliland.

Charmed.

I need your help.

Well, actually, my homeless
friend needs it.

I just want to right
an old wrong

and I'm under a lot of pressure

and there's this picture
on my friend's computer...

I'm sorry,
are we sharing?

Mr. Duckman, there is
no reason to be nervous.

I will do everything
in my power

to see that
your friend is set

on the re-situation
track A.S.A.P.

Okeydokey? Now, I have
spoken to Mr. Eber,

the hairdresser
to the stars,

and he will
drop the charges

if you will arrange
for his expertise,

skilled staff and
international reputation

to be favorably mentioned
on television.

Done!
Good!

Now, let's get out of here
and go see your homeless friend.

We're here!

I mean, he's here.
I mean, this is him, Brad.

[laughs]:
This man in the Armani
suit is homeless?

What kind of a scam
are you running here?

Sc-scam?

Look, you just
can't waltz in

with an obvious Eber
feather cut

and expect
mother government

to flop out her boob

and yell, "Drink up!"

Please! He really
is homeless!

Hell, he's been living
in a vacant lot!

Really? Well,
that would be trespassing.

Oh, no, no, it's not
private property.

It's under
the interstate.

So, federal land equals
felony trespassing!

You're going
to come down

on a guy who lives
in a refrigerator box?

Unauthorized storage
and disposal

on federal land
equals big felony

per Waste Disposal
Act of 1991.

I think we've taken
up enough of...

Please!

He was there


that law was passed.

Excellent! Over 15 years
of walking across that lot

to access his refrigerator box.

Mr. Gilliland
created an easement.

What does that mean?
No, it really
doesn't matter.

Property taxes and federal
land-use maintenance fees.

Oodles of them!

But he's broke!

Mr. Gilliland,
you have green card?

Green card?
Of course not.

Duckman, stop!

Es mi malo
para usted, señor.

Su casa nueva
es la casa gigante.

Estan palabra es
de un idiota! Idiota!

Usted es el idiota.

Usted es el
doble idiota!

No estoy,
no estoy.

Si, es.
Si, es.

Nyah, nyah, nyah!
Nyah, nyah, nyah!

Stop! Please!
Both of you!

I didn't want trouble...
I just wanted a chance.

My whole life, I've been told:

"You can't... you can't
go to school anymore.

"You can't stay in town anymore.

You can't get a job
without a diploma."

It was bad enough
when I thought

they were talking about
someone named Hugh.

But it turns out they meant me!

Everywhere my parents lived,

someone would eventually
find out

about the Dinkler incident,
and we'd have to move.

So I ran away from home
to give them a chance to live

without the trouble.

All I had to hold on to was...

my project... my invention...
my million-dollar idea.

See, sometimes, I feel like

somebody just
shook the whole country

like a box they just picked up
and shook hard

and the pieces that rattled out
of place are the homeless.

Working on my project
made me feel grounded and safe.

And all these years,

I've just wanted a chance
to show it to someone

who could help me.

I'm not out to scam anyone.

So, if you think I deserve help,
give it to me.

But I'd rather go back
to living on the street

than to take charity.

That's all I wanted to say.

I hope it was no trouble.

Gilliland, wasn't your
leisure suit a blue print?

Yeah, why?

'Cause it's green now.

[laughing]:
Well, sure, it's a mood suit.

And according
to your suit,

you're telling
the truth.

Let's get you
out of here.

Thanks for
springing us, Tyler.

See you
next Thursday?

"Must See TV" party?
Wouldn't miss It.

Oh, and Brad,
good news.

I called my cousin
who's filthy rich

in the rag trade, and
he loves the mood suit--

digs the '70s
retro feel--

and he'll give you a
million dollars for it.

And a job!

Wow! Thanks!

You deserve it.

I only wish
all homeless people

were as nice
as you.

Then everyone would
want to be homeless.

So, I guess this is
good-bye, Duckman.

Thanks for everything.

This makes me sad,
you know.

I know, I can see it
in your suit.

Brad, before you go,
I have to tell you something

and it's not easy.

You see, well...

TOGETHER:
Oh...

[echoing voice]:
Duckman.

Duckman,
Duckman,
wake up.

Dinkler? Dinkler did this?

That's right, Dinkler.

Ooh-hoo-hoo!
I'm dizzy.

Look, Dinkler, there's something
you ought to know,

and I'm glad Brad and Corny
will hear this, too.

[gulps]:
It was me.

I was the one who played
the prank on you that day.

The one you expelled Brad for.

I snuck in here
through the vent

and rigged the whole office.

It was me.

Brad, that's why
I took you in.

To try to make it
up to you.

I was trying to make
the whole thing all go away

before Corny figured out
who was in the picture.

Uh, yeah, Duckman,
I have a confession to make.

The reason I wanted
to investigate

the reason I set the picture
enhancement on super slow.

I stalled. I wanted to make sure
the truth was never discovered

because I was involved, too.

I saw you come in,
and after you left,

I broke in through the vent.

After taking some coquettish
snapshots of myself

I went over the office
undoing every booby trap...

slacking the fish lines...

recaging the mongoose...

wetting the coals...

I knew Dinkler
would expel you.

All he needed
was an excuse.

I wanted to protect
your future.

I guess I always knew
I'd be a part of it.

But my office was booby-trapped!

I have a confession
to make.

Huh?!
Huh?!

I saw Duckman go in and then

I saw Cornfed go in
and undo what Duckman did.

I knew why you did
what you did, Corny,

but I couldn't let Dinkler
get away

with the things
he said to Duckman.

He called him worthless!

Nobody's worthless!

So I painstakingly redid

everything you undid.

The bear trap, the pillowcase
full of snapping turtles

the Krazy Glue, everything.

Oh, I also took some
playful Polaroids of myself.

It's official,
I'm lost.

What it means
is that Gilliland
really did do it.

But I wanted you
all to suffer,

so I manipulated you

pulling your strings
and making you dance.

Pretty marionettes...
[chuckles] dance!

[evil laughter]

Yeah, mm.

It was my television station
that invited you both

and arranged for you
to bump into each other.

Wait! You own that station?

Can you do something
about the way they cut up

the Odd Couple reruns?

Silence!

And now, after all these years,
my...

revenge!

I want you to stay
in these chairs

for one hour
after I leave.

Don't remove the tape,
or I'll add another hour.

Do you understand?

Okay.
Okay.
Okay.

And remember,
you're on your honor.

[door slams]

Swell, and we're
all taped up.

It's cellophane tape,
it peels right off.

Oh, well,
peel it off.

Nuh-uh. You
heard Dinkler.

I'm not peeling
it off.

Corny?

And risk having to
sit here another hour?

Nuh-uh.

[crickets chirping]

DINKLER:
Pretty marionettes...
[evil chuckle]