04x21 - Westward, No!

[bunniefuu]

[duck quacks]

[Duckman slurping
and eating noisily]

Mmm... mmm...

[gobbling]

The boys are still visiting
Bernice in Washington?

Yes.

Hey, is that a new suit?

Why, yes, yes, it...

was.

Don't you look in a mirror
before you go out?

Quel slob!

Hey, uh, Bev, the grub's okay,
but FYI,

try not to mix "cutting food"
with "slurping food."

All this utensil shifting
is slowing me down!

What chef doesn't love
to hear that?

Corny, would you like
some crayfish étouffée ?

That would be splendid.

Thanks.

[Duckman laughs]

"That would be splendid."

Why not just hang a sign
around your neck saying,

"I want to boink you"?

You can use mine.
It's, uh, around here somewhere.

Mmm.

This is fabulous!

Bev, are you sure
you're not Cajun?

[both tittering]

Excuse me?

How come he gets to use
language like that?

That word offends not just me,
sir, but all womankind!

How dare you refer to that
most prized, intimate body part

the toy surprise
in the cr*cker Jack box of love

in such
a crude and tasteless manner?

"Cajun" is the style of cooking
you just ate 11 pounds of.

Oh.

Then what's "Thai" again?

Bev, if you like
Cajun cuisine,

you should meet
my Aunt Jane.

She lives on a catfish
ranch in Louisiana.

Who cares about Louisi...?

Wow, I'd love to go
to Louisiana.

Ah, Louisiana...

City of Lights
on Asia's emerald isle!

Bev, I was planning
to visit Aunt Jane

in the other Louisiana
this weekend.

Why don't you come along?

Wow, I'd love to!

Hmm?
What's with Cornfed and Bev?

Methinks my old partner
is trolling for trout

right here under my sniffer.

This is very bad form, indeed.

If anyone's going to get to
"pound the percale" with Bev,

it should be me.

Until Cornpone came around
trying to get his dud milked,

Bev was getting to know
the real me,

the me I have inside,

the me I've never been to,
the me that's not half-bad,

or if you're a pessimist,
not half-good.

Given enough time
and medication,

Bev would definitely
fall in love with me.

And given enough
typing monkeys,

she could write the works
of Shakespeare.

[chuckling]
"Typing monkeys."

[imitating monkey howling]

[door closes]

What the...?

Wait! I'd love to go with you!

Louisville, Indonesia,
here we come!

[gasps]

Well, as I live
and breathe.

Willebald.

Aunt Jane.

These are my friends.

No, don't tell me.
I ought to know

from what you've
been writing about
in your letters.

You must be Beverly!

Even prettier
than Willebald described you!

Oh, you're sweet.

Thank you.

And you must be Duckman.

Why, from Willebald's letters,

I'd have thought you literally
had a penis for a head.

Charmed.

How are things going, Aunt Jane?

Not too good.

I can barely make
my loan payments.

My hands are fixing
to drive my herd to Texas.

I'm afraid it's my last chance
to save this ranch

where my pappy and his pappy
before him lived and d*ed.

Yeah, great story.

Which way to the spa?

Oh, look, we ain't got
nothing fancy here.

Beverly here can have
my spare room.

I hope you boys would rough it
with the ranch hands.

If by "rough it,"
you mean a room

without a minibar
and free hookers,

then, uh, we have a problem.

Duckman, we really should bunk

with the ranch hands.

Huh? What, are you Amish?

Hmm. Cornfed,
listen to you.

"Bunk with the
ranch hands."

Muy, muy macho.

Yeah, bunkin'
in the bunkhouse

sounds like a
right plum puddin'
idea there, matey.

Now, if'n you'll 'scuse me,
little pards,

I got to go rope me
some steers,

bust me some broncs
and cow me some pies.

Nice sh**t', Tex!

Though loogie-hawking will
cost you serious points

in the better
bed-and-breakfast guides.

Who the hell are you?

I guess they don't get cable.

Well, Clem, I just so happen
to be a personal guest

of a certain lady by the name
of Aunt something-or-other.

So, you'd better
start treatin' me right,

or she'll Shania
your Twains
for good.

Hey.

Gotcha!

[growling]

[whimpers]

Oy vey.

[fighting sounds]

DUCKMAN: Ooh-ooh,
ow, ooh-ooh!

Stop, ow, ooh-ooh!

[glass shattering,
Duckman grunting
and yelling]

[fists smacking
blows landing]

[grunting and yelling,
fighting sounds continue]

[sustained grunting, yelling
and fighting sounds]

[g*n cocking]

You stay out of
this, Miss Jane!

This don't concern you.

Everything on this ranch
concerns me.

Fun's fun, but that there's
a guest of mine.

Now, go on, git!

All of you, go on!

You're fired!

Duckman, are
you all right?

Oh, yeah.

[coughs]

Just a... just a little winded.

[door opens, footfalls]

If he's here to hit me,

I'm counting on you
to k*ll me first.

[coughs and gags]

Easy, Cindy.

I ain't gonna hit ya.

[inhales]

Ah...

Yet.

Name's McBastard.

Big Jack McBastard.

Now, listen up,

you stinkin' little puddle
of girly vomit,

those men you just got fired
were supposed to help me drive


to Texas.

Now, how am I gonna move
them catfish by myself, huh?

I, uh, don't, uh...

He's right.

If those catfish
don't get to Texas,

Aunt Jane
will lose everything.

See? All's well
that ends well.

No, Duckman, that's bad.

There's only one thing
to do.

We have to help drive
those catfish.

Oh, what a
wonderful idea.

You are nuts!

I'm not going to waste
my vacation

on a bunch of catfish!

Duckman, come back.

[door slams]

[tires screeching]

♪

Ooh!

♪

[band plays flourish]

Hey, wait!

Corny and Bev
sleeping under the stars?

With him looking like
a big hero?

[hoofbeat]

[yelling]

[screaming]

[crashing]

Ow!

It's going to be
a long ride.

There she is--

hell's toilet.

The days are so hot,
they can boil your brain,

and the nights are colder
than David Caruso's film career.

Ugh!
Ugh!
Ugh!

[coyote howling]

[playing melancholy tune]

Well, good night.

Make sure you get
a good night's sleep.

Tomorrow we've got a date
with the Rio Grillo--

orneriest river
you'll ever cross.

The Rio Grillo took my pappy,
my pappy's pappy,

my pappy's pappy's pappy...

And your pappy's pappy's
pappy's pappy?

Bought himself a condo
in Laughlin.

Maintenance fees are steep,

but the social life
keeps him young.

Oh... catfish are jumpy tonight.

Be careful.

One loud noise
and we'll have us a stampede

and we don't want that.

Bev, I'm glad we're alone.

DUCKMNAN:
Yo-ho!

I was just securing
the perimeter.

Hey, you brought
the old licorice
stick, eh?

Bev, did you know
that I'm often called

"the Joe Satriani
of guitar players"?

Here, let me show
you how it's done.

No, Duckman!

The catfish!

[plays opening notes
of "Roundabout"]

[singing off-key]
♪ In and around the lake

♪ Mountains come
out of the sky ♪

♪ They stand theeerrrrre!

No!
No!

[strings vibrate discordantly]

[rumbling]

Stampede!

Head 'em off! Move!

[neighing]

Help! Somebody help!

Hold on tight, Beverly.

DUCKMAN:
No, no, no!

I want to be the one
who saves Beverly.

This really
isn't the time.

[neighing]

[loud expl*si*n]

Nice riding.

Thank you.
I was doing this

Princess Margaret
sort of thing.

[grunts]

Don't worry, B.J.,
I'll save you.

Come on,
little doggies, kitties--

whatever the hell you are.
[groaning]

Whoa, whoa, wait.
Backup. Stop.

[B.J. groaning and grunting]

No, go forward.

No, no, forward!

Yike, that's less than ideal.

He's dead.

Dead? Are you sure?

I am now.

No! I won't let the Reaper win,
not this time!

Live, Big Jack, live!

You're a fighter,

and this is the biggest fight
of your...!

Ohh...

Well, at least he d*ed
with his boots on.

He sure did. He...

Say, are those a size nine?

I don't
believe it.

Big Jack... dead.

What could be worse?

Thank you,
Queen Set-Up.

Where are you going?

I want to die
as I lived--

like a sniveling
little coward.

Wait, I've got an idea.

Keep... holding... on.

Must... be... strong.

Lips... are... chapped.

[loud snap]

[all yelling]

[high-pitched scream]

[panting]

[voice echoing]:
Nooooo!

Well, that settles it;
I'm taking over.

Say what?

Look, someone's got to

come out and say it.

This trip is not going well.

No, no! It's true.

First Big Jack dies,
then the stampede,

and now Corny's
whole human-bridge fiasco.

Man, that was wack!

Yep, from now on,
I'll be in charge

of this catfish drive
in the manly,

loved-by-women-like-Bev way
that only I can.

And nothing's going
to stop me.

[all growling]

Compadres,
I got to tell you.

The news of my ascension

has not received the kudos
I thought it would. Now,

if you have issues, it's best
to get them out now-- anyone?

Duckman, the reason things
have been going so badly...

Well, it's your fault.

[chuckles]:
I see.

Oh, that's very
interesting.

And how exactly is
any of this my fault?

You got the ranch hands fired.

And caused the stampede.

And k*lled Big Jack.

And washed away half the herd.

Whoa! If we all talk at once,
we'll never get anywhere.

Let's just chalk up
the trip so far

to Cornfed's jealousy of me

and never talk
about it again, okay?

Now, here's my plan:
Bev, you ride in front,

so the pheromones released
by your monthly cycles

can waft back and hypnotically
draw the herd forward.

Cornfed, you bring up the rear,
checking the trail

for loose change
and deposit bottles.

And where will you be during
this voyage of the damned?

I'll ride in front of Bev,
but facing backward

so I can watch
her breasts jiggle.

It's not often you
see one horse's ass

sitting on another.

You see? That's
the right attitude.

So, Cornfed,
if you'll take

your far-from-Bev
position, we can
get started.

Where's my canteen?

I've confiscated
all the water.

You'll get water
when I'm satisfied
that you've earned it.

Easy, pard.

There's only room for one raisin
in this trail mix.

You're going to do
what I tell you to do

when I tell
you to do it

the way I tell
you to do it,

and if can't tell
you you've done it,

you'll tell me when
you're done doing it!

You're worthless and weak,

and this drive is gonna toughen
your hides or k*ll you!

But, above all,
just have fun with it.

[vulture screeches]

DUCKMAN:
"Death Wish Trail."

Sounds... manly.

So, Bev, move 'em on!

Eeyah!

Duckman, your
craven insanity

is apparently now
sunstroke enriched.

So, please focus
on what I'm saying.

Just a few miles
that way is a town

where we can sell
the catfish, eat,
drink, rest

and bring all our
troubles to an end.

It's one of your gal-poaching
tricks, ain't it?

You've got your whole g*ng
ready to bushwhack me--

get me out of the way so's you
can have Bev all to yourself.

I know what Bev wants,
mister, I do!

She wants me to go...

Oohhhhhh!

All right, fine, fine!
Be that way!

You're nothing
but no-good varmints,

back-stabbing dogs,
scurvy, mutinous curs,

double-dealing, herd-stealing,
unappealing, matzo-mealing

rod-and-reeling,
hooked-on-a-feeling,

sexual-healing, Friz Freleng,
Ezekiel-saw-the-wheeling rats!

So go!
Get out of here!

I want nothing
to do with either of you!

Duckman, it's not safe
for you to stay here.

Well, I'm sure not safe with
you two lust-crazy schemers.

Go on! You'll be sorry.

I'm meaner and tougher
than either of you will...

Daahhh! A bee! A bee! Aaahhh!

Don't worry.
When we get to town,

we'll send someone
back for him.

Oh, it's awful.

He's so demented.

He thinks we're having
a torrid affair.

Yeah. Imagine.

Betrayed. Abandoned.

Discarded like
last week's TV Guide--

and not the special
fall preview issue either,

but that crappy
kids'-show issue

with that dink Jonathan Taylor
what's-his-name on the cover.

That two-faced,
two-timing, tutti-frutti

too-ra-loo-ra partner of mine

is gonna sell the catfish,
hog all the credit

and then run off to Barbados or
Acapulco or Encino with my Bev.

I'll stop him!
I'll stop him

if it's the last thing I...

Can't... go on.

Will... die... here.

You can't
just give up!

Ye gods!

It's TV legend and star
of Welcome Back, Kotter

Ron "Horshack" Palillo!

And I'm here to tell you
that you just can't quit.

You've got to get right up
and keep going...

keep trying!

That's the only way
you'll b*at Cornfed

and get that nice gal Beverly.

I will keep trying,
Mr. Palillo-- I will.

But before I do,
a request?

[whispering]

Very well.

Oh! Oh-oh! Oh!

[sniveling]:
I've seen it a million times

and, yet, it never grows old.

I did a Love Boat,
too, you know.

Good-bye, Duckman!

Dwaaah!

Are you a mirage
by any chance?

[grunts]:
Nope, you're real.

Hi, guys. I sure hope
you're not miffed at me

for getting you fired.

You know, it's actually kind of
a funny story when you...

[grunts]

'Course, losing your job
in this economy is no joke.

Guys, wait, you didn't come
all this way just to lynch me.

[yelps]

We sure as hell did.

Wait. I can make
you all rich.

[g*n cocking]

Why should we believe you?

Hey, I'm tight with Ron Palillo,

and I was just on my way
to sh**t my backstabbing partner

and rustle his catfish.

If you boys come work for me,
I'll cut you in

for say, an industry-standard
eight percent?

Quiet! I don't trust you,
you Pip-Squeak!

But out of respect
for TV's Horshack,

we'll give you a chance.

Fair enough.

Now let's ride!

[player piano playing
saloon music]

[cocking g*n]

I think it
was wonderful

what you did for your
Aunt Jane, Cornfed.

You know, a girl
could get used to

a dependable
guy like you.

But then,
there's Duckman.

Yeah, I know
what you mean.

A man's got two things
in this world:

His good name
and his loyalty to his friends.

Duckman may be crazy, but he's
the best friend I've ever had.

I respect that.

But we can still
fool around

in secret, right?

Oh, definitely.

[g*nsh*t]

DUCKMAN:
Cornfed pig?

That's right, you catfish-
rustling, partner-swindling,

blowfish-hooting,
Connie-Chunging coward!

I'm calling you out.

Oh, please, don't go!

He's crazy!

A man's got to do

what a man's judgment tells him
circumstances require.

I always knew
this'd happen someday.

I wish you'd told me.

I would have practiced.

Duckman, we can call this off.

Nah.

I'm in a k*lling mood.

[all screaming]

[spurs clinking]

We draw
at high noon.

And just so's you know,
my boys have got orders

to sh**t you dead
no matter what happens.

After you k*ll me, k*ll him.

You got it.

[snaps fingers]

Hmm.

[sighs]

Bu-bu-bu-bu.

[whistling nonchalantly]

Hey, my watch says 2:30.

The clock must have stopped.

Shoddy American workmanship.

Draw on three?

Sure.



Now, it's fair.

You girls still want to draw?

No way!

A guy could get hurt.

Oh, I thought
I'd lose you both.

Thank goodness
for Big Jack McBastard.

Say, uh, Jack, how the hell
did you survive being trampled?

Not to mention being eaten
by vultures and buried alive.

[inhaling deeply]

[exhaling sharply]

Long story.

Happy trails, folks.

[horse neighs]

Funny, I've already
forgotten who he is.

Hey, uh, I owe you
two a big apology.

I had no right
to behave the way I did.

I want you to know
that if you two were

to start seeing each other,
it'd be okay with me.

In fact, I think it'd be great.

Come on,
let's
go home.

JACK:
Happy trails, folks.