04x25 - Hamlet 2: This Time It's Personal

[bunniefuu]

[duck quacks]

Where should I begin?

JACOBS: Perhaps you could
tell me why you're here.

Because of someone
named Duckman.

Duckman.
Ah, yes.

You know him?

About half
my practice

is people who came into
contact with Duckman.

He's my partner.

Oh, my God.

I'll give you
an extra hour.

It all started last week.

I remember everything as clearly

as if it were going
to be reenacted

right before our eyes.

[teeth chattering]

Aah! There it is!

There's the ghost,
staring at me

from inside
the picture frame!

It's nothing but pure evil,
glaring with hate

in its horrible, disgusting,
twisted, ugly face!

Duckman, that's my reflection
in the mirror.

Oh. Hmm. By the way, Corny,

on a completely
different subject,

you ever considered a snout job?

Duckman, we've been
sitting here for hours,

and no ghost has appeared.

I tell you, someone's been
haunting me all week.

Actually, once when
I was working late,

I saw a spectral vision, and...

Sorry, I don't follow you.

A spectral vision is...

No. "Working late."

It's not another
masturbation reference, is it?

The censor's getting pissed.

My encounter with the undead

was an experience
so profound and moving that...

Hold that thought.

It's crapper time.

[three deep, echoing thuds]

Hold your horses, excretion-boy.

I got pimples to squeeze.

GHOSTLY VOICE:
Duckman!

All right, all right.

Dwaah!

Boo already.

Uncle Mo!

You were expecting
Patrick Swayze?

Mo Dorkin, the obnoxious uncle
who I tried to kick out

of the house when he was dying
of heart cancer?

Frankly, I'd forgotten
most of the episode

though now you
brought it back

with that incredibly
subtle piece of exposition.

Now, listen up.

I have a message
from your father.

He said to say hi,
how you doing,

he just got k*lled.

What? I can't believe it!

Have I ever lied to you
since dying?

Plus, he said to say

some character
named King Chicken did it.

King Chicken
m*rder*d my father?!

Yes, m*rder*d, and if you got
any tamales at all,

you'll bop him back.

Okay, see you.

As always, it's been a pain.

Ow!

Stupid corporeal world!

[wind howling sinisterly]

I can't believe it.

Gone. Gone forever.

Duckman, are you familiar
with the term "a**l retentive"?

Not that-- my father!

The ghost said
King Chicken m*rder*d him.

How could King Chicken do that?

I mean, aside from trying
to wipe each other

off the face of the earth

we've gotten along fine.

I even called a truce

so we could slobber
around Bernice

the last few weeks.
Now I got to k*ll him.

I know.
I'll pretend to be insane.

Your plan to avenge your
father's m*rder is to act crazy,

thus convincing the m*rder*r
to admit his guilt

so you can m*rder him?

Brilliant, isn't it?

Brilliant doesn't begin
to describe it.

Nicely put. Now go home
and don't come back

till the plot
needs explaining again.

Yes, sir.

[guttural clucking]

Congresswoman Bernice,
tell me again

what it's like working
under d*ck Gephardt.

Oh, Kingy!

[coy giggles]

Are you sure
you're not married anymore?

Bernice, I thought
I explained.

My wife, honey...

[sniffles]

d*ed again.

I thought I saw her
come out of the house yesterday.

Ah. Well, you see,
she d*ed after being struck

by a very rare
kind of lightning bolt

which has the documented medical
effect of causing the victim

to occasionally "seem"
as if she's come back to life

but not really.

That's so sad.

[fake sob]

Make it better, Bernie.

Oh...

[Bernice screams]

Oh, I believe
I've found the B-spot!

No, look, it's Duckman,
and he's...

Oh, God, it's horrible!

I can't watch.

He's reading a book!

Yes, it turns out these
are fascinating devices.

Without a modem, you can
instantly access information

merely by turning
these ultra-thin pages.

What, are you nuts?!

As a matter of fact,

yes!
I've gone Loony Tunes--

a registered trademark of the
Warner Brothers Corporation--

so Cluckface here can talk
about anything evil he's done

and not worry about me.

Duckman, old bean,
I have changed.

Tyrannizing the world

and being the embodiment
of pure evil is for the young.

That's why I've gotten
into a new line--

making toys for children

whose parents don't have
the time or energy

to actually deal with them

and are desperately hoping
a new electronic geegaw

will keep the little bastards
off dr*gs for another month.

What a marvelous idea.

Bernicious, isn't that
simply a marvelous idea?

Yeah. That was
a close one.

I hate those, uh...

invisible... vampire
telephone repairmen

from Mars.

Ye-e-e-yeah.

Duckman, perhaps
this is a good time

to tell you some
wonderful news.

Given that my wife
is more or less--

but definitely
more than less-- dead,

your sister-in-law
and I are contemplating

something all
couples dream of.

Doing it
in the clothes hamper?

Marriage,
you vomit-colored vermin!

Just think, Duckman--

that will make you
my brother-in-law once removed.

Well, that's marvelous
news, Bernostomy.

Now you'll
get to spend

the rest of your life
watching

while one of you
gets so monstrously fat,

and the other
so hideously thin

that together,
you'll look like the number ten

before you start to sag
and cr*ck and fall apart

and lose your hair, teeth,
hearing, eyesight

and control of your bowels.

Will you find a landing field?!

[grunts]

[grunts]

[grunting]

Hmm. Duckman is acting
even stupider than usual.

Yes. He'll never discover
my dread secret.

What secret
is that, Kingy?

Oh. For a moment,
I forgot you existed.

Um, my secret fear that
he's plotting against me.

Oh, if only there were people
who could find out.

People even stupider
than Duckman.

[doorbell chiming]

We're sorry

to burst in
inappropriately...

But Mr. Duckman left
a light on in the office.

Yes. Your beloved chieftain

has been acting
in an eccentric fashion of late.

In fact, I'd consider it
a great personal favor

if you would try
to surreptitiously determine

if he is genuinely demented
or just stupid.

Well, as long as it's
for his own good.

Oh, it is, on my...

Oh, what's the word?

Honor?
Honor?

I will be, as soon as you leave.

[clucking]

[laughing]
[laughing]

I could k*ll him now
while he's got

his hand
in Bernice's...

Dwaah!

Hello, Mr. Duckman.
Hello, Mr. Duckman.

Mr. Chicken asked us
to ask you

if you were really crazy
or just faking.

But he wants us
to ask in a way

so you don't know
what we're doing

or that he asked
us to do it.

Can we rephrase that?
Can we rephrase that?

No need.

After all,
would a crazy man do this?

[Fluffy and Uranus scream]

Ahh! You're k*lling
those little bears!

Oh, no. It's
Fluffy and Uranus.

They love it.

[Fluffy and Uranus screaming]

But there are people

who are cruel.

People who k*ll
people's fathers--

which I am against--
[mixer whirring]

and then have sex with
their sister-in-law

which I'd kind of admire

if it didn't
involve Bernice.

[quavering screams]

What a piece
of crap is man.

Just thinking
about him

makes you want to
puke your guts out.

[sniffing]

I'm getting
out of here.

You're crazy!

That's right!

Tell your friends!

Everything's going
according to plan.

Wait a minute. What plan?

What the hell am I doing?

For once in my life,
I'm slightly confused.

Corny!

Hello, Duckman.

Perhaps I can help.
Think about it:

A ghost says your father
was k*lled by a king

who's in love with
a woman close to you

so you feign insanity

to get him
to admit his guilt.

Does that remind
you of anything?

Yes. It seems awfully similar
to what I've been doing

for the last three hours!

[sighs]

Hey, you really here?

Yes. That's a little invention
I'm working on--

the Personal Digital Bubble.

It appears to have
no practical application

other than impressing chicks.

Returning to my point,
the story I recounted

is from a play
by William Shakespeare.

Duckman, there is no explanation
for what I'm about to say,

but you appear to be trapped
inside the plot of Hamlet.

Listen, Cornstuffing, this isn't
some off-Broadway flopola

by a limey loser
who never sold a screenplay.

This is real life,
in an animated sort of way.

I gotta think. Hand me
those photos, would you?

The ones from
the Scandinavian
p*rn Palace?

Yeah, the prints of Denmark.

So, what did this hambone
do next?

He wrote a play
to trick the king

into admitting
his guilt.

That's the stupidest idea
I've ever heard.

Wait. No, I think
I'll do the same thing.

Cornfed?

Yes?
Why did you stop?

You were telling
the story of how

Duckman's life
inadvertently
mimicked Hamlet's,

and you just stopped
and said nothing for
exactly two minutes.

Why?

Uh... no reason.

So, two minutes later,
I had gone home

to rest for my next appearance

when Duckman was surprised

by yet
another horrifying vision.

Dwaah!

I pray you're only
homicidal maniacs

come to butcher me and my family

and not my boys
dressed up like clowns.

Hi, Dad.

No.

We're rehearsing

for our tribute
to the school clown

who recently passed away.

Yelnick? Yelnick honked?

I can't believe it.
I had him booked between halves

at the Steak 'N Slosh Creamed
Corn Wrestle-Fest next week.

Hey, what's that?

Nothing. Certainly
not the clown's skull

dug up and laminated

in a desperate attempt
to avoid flunking art class.

Cool.

Look at that--
even the plaque is wacky.

Poor Yelnick.
I knew him well.

What a moron. Where's your
fake vomit now, funnyman?

One minute,
you're on top of the world

making 15 bucks a pop
at birthday parties

sticking rubber snakes
down little girls' underwear...

the next,
you're munching a worm sandwich

while frat boys
tip sleeping cows on your grave.

What the hell
am I talking about?

Dad, perhaps
you'd like to be alone

with your rapidly
deteriorating mental condition.

No. In fact, I just
spent two minutes
writing a play,

which you guys
can help me perform
for King Chicken.

Any questions?

Yes. When's the English
translation come out?

Ho-ho, it is to laugh.

Now, a couple of tips on acting.

First, the saliva question.

Yes, it's in there
and yes, it's gonna come out.

Try to spit
away from the women.

Got that from Pacino.

Second, if you
hit a rough spot,

yank out your doodle
and spin it around.

Tends to distract
the critics.

The only part of me
that feels uplifted
is my stomach.

[giggling]

Duckman! Kids!

I was just helping Kingy
with some... grooming.

Yes. This hair is
a constant struggle.

Well, if you're done
getting plucked,

I have something
surprising to tell you.

If it has to do with
those missing cheerleaders,

we're way ahead of you.

I, Duckman, have written a play.

k*ll me. k*ll me now.

Can it wait till
after the show?

And you might pay
special attention
to the plot,

which may remind you

of a real-life situation--

one you're personally
familiar with--

a story very much like
you yourselves may have lived...

something almost
exactly the same...

Will you get on with it?!

Ladies and gentlemen,

the Mercury Theater
of the Living Room presents

Ching Kichen
and the Big Fat Slut

by Duckman.

Ajax, where's
your costume?

Okay. Remember,
the key to this play

is to be subtle.

I am Ching Kichen
and I am an evil k*lling machine

and I'll evilly k*ll anyone
who says I'm not.

Oh, Kingy!

You are the handsomest
evil k*lling machine

I have ever met.

Bernoose!

I can't wait

to throw my minimal charms
at your groin

and hope you don't k*ll
any members of my family

till I am done
booting your hard drive.

"She takes off her top"?

Beverly was supposed
to play that part.

Halt! It is I, Drakeman.

I take off my
top in dismay.

Just skip over
the sex parts.

Now, while I wipe off
the cooking oil,

for what have
you come here for?

To stop this evil demon

from defiling
the sanctity of whatever.

It's a first draft.

Stop now, or I shall use
more big words at you.

Forget it.

I am so craven
and cowardly and
stupid and smelly,

all I can do is
sh**t you in the back.

Bang.

Oh.

[groans]

Ee-eew!

I am not cleaning
that up!

How dare you
slaughter the man

who I secretly
worshipped as a God?!

Again, I shall
take off my...

And furthermore, slice.

From hell's heart,
I s*ab at thee.

Slice!

Ha ha!

I have won!

[groans]

I am suffering
a fatal heart att*ck--

the destiny of all
who commit evil

or do something
Duckman doesn't like.

Now is stilled
a dark and evil voice.

Let all women take off
their tops and rejoice.

I think you have
third act problems.

Nice play,
Dreckman.

The only thing missing
was Lincoln getting sh*t!

We haven't felt so exploited
in three days.

I found it
a provocative
piece of stagecraft

marred only
by the author's
overweening pretense

towards
psychological insight.

But the v*olence
was keen.

Oh, yeah? You guys wouldn't know
brilliant subtle theater

if it threw up on you.

Your idea of medieval classic
is Piscopo doing Sinatra.

♪ Doo-bee doo-bee-doo

Wait. It's not "doo-bee..."
or is it?

Damn. "Doo-bee"
or not "doo-bee"?

No, that's not the question.

It's why I have
to take this abuse.

What do they want me to do,
cack myself?

I'm just stalling.

Oh, what a tongue-shaped
urine-colored ass I am.

Duckman, were you
doing a soliloquy?

No, I'm against dr*gs, Corny.

I was just talking to myself.

You're still living
Shakespeare's play
with you as Hamlet,

King Chicken
as the King,
Bernice as Gertrude...

Hello. Not caring.

But perhaps only by solving
the mystery of the play

can we hope to break you free.

Fine. So what's it mean?

It is, perhaps, the first
psychological portrait

of a fully modern man
in the sense that...

I meant in two words.

Revenge destroys.

Well, duh!

But it often destroys
the revenger.

That's why I believe
that convincing society

to scorn the transgressor
is the best revenge.

Yeah, but there's nothing like
a good old-fashioned stoning.

Duckman, do you know
how Hamlet ends?

Everyone hugs?

Hamlet is a tragedy.

If I'm right,

and you've become trapped
inside Shakespeare's plot,

unless we can find
a way to break you out,

you will die.

JACOBS:
Yes? So what happened next?

[sighs]

Two minutes,
right?

It was clear to me that
Duckman was in great danger

and to save his life,
we had to escape

from King Chicken--
leaving immediately

not allowing ourselves

to be distracted
by anything he says or does

no matter how clever.

Duckman, got a minute?

Sure. Is that a Game Boy?

No. For legal reasons

this is not a Game Boy
by Nintendo.

This is something
entirely different.

The, um, Game... Guy.

Wow! And it's mine?

One for each.

Say, you know
what would be good, clean,

as-far-as-you-know
nonlethal fun?

You two could
have a contest!

I am widely known as the
world's foremost expert

on pushing things
with his fingers.

The triple-A battery
hasn't been born

that can count the ninjas
I've left headless.

Good. Look them over

feel them, touch them,

make sure they
come into contact

with as much skin area
as possible.

Little do they know

that I have coated
the surface of these toys

with Laffindoom--
a chemical I've invented

which induces laughter
so ceaseless and hearty

that it stops only with death.

There's something suspicious

about King Chicken's
sudden and unlikely generosity,

not to mention the way
he's talking to the camera.

I wonder if these devices
contain some hidden property,

which could be of danger
to Duckman and/or myself.

Two hermaphrodites
go into a bar...

JACOBS:
Wait a minute.

If these Game Guys
were the equivalent

of the poison-tipped swords
used by King Claudius

in the duel between
Hamlet and Laertes,

why did you accept them?

You want logic or you
want to hear the end?
Go on.

CORNFED:
As Duckman and I took our
places in the living room

I began to feel that my
concerns were justified.

[chuckling]

Cornilingus...
prepare for doom!

Duckman, choose your
intellectually vapid

carpal tunnel-inducing
w*apon. [laughing]

[laughing]

"Alien Terminator."

[laughter continues]

Am I something?

I don't understand
half the jokes I say.

On your marks...

get set...

die!

[laughter stops]

I mean... go!

[laughter resumes]

I... I'm suffering...

a fatal heart att*ck.

Oh!

The destiny of all

who do something...
King Chicken doesn't like.

I mean... oh, dear.

Duckman!
Dad! Are
you dead?

I'm going fast, boys!

[laughing uncontrollably]:
Just remember one thing--

don't let anyone ever...
dig up the backyard.

[groans]

Cornfed!
Cornfed!
Cornfed!

[laughing]:
Chicken's... fault...

[sinister laughter]

[clucking]

Kingy! Are you
responsible for this?

Who else?

Duckman, do you remember
having a toothache last week?

[laughing]:
My regular dentist was
arrested for soliciting.

There was a substitute... you!

[cackling]

Damn you, Chicken!

You charged me $80!

I capped two bicuspids!

Also, while you were
under the gas,

I planted a series
of post-hypnotic suggestions

including this one.

[ghostly voice]:
Duckman...
[sinister whooshing]

Hi. Yeah, the rooster's right.

I'm a figment
of your pathetic imagination.

Does this mean
my father's still alive?

If you call that living.

So listen, I'm out of here.

I got a date with the head
of Jayne Mansfield.
[whooshing]

Anyhoo...

I knew I would succeed.

And I have!

Oh, yeah?!

Egad!

Exactly!

Suspecting Game
Guy treachery,

I used these
transparent gloves

to prevent us
from touching the
poisoned surface.

That's right--
without these gloves,

touching this would have
brought certain... uh...

Doom!

[giggles]

[uncontrollable laughter]

Wait one last-minute-
plot-twist second!

Am I to understand
that your attentions

were all just part of some
stupid, inconsequential plan

to k*ll Duckman?!

Quick! We have to find a way
to dilute the chemical.

I've got an idea!

[still laughing]

Duckman, we've escaped
from the play.

We changed the ending.

[laughing]:
Instead of everyone dying,

we've ostracized
the wrongdoer

through the sanctifying power
of derisive laughter.

Wait till our
English teacher
hears about this.

"So tell him

"with the occurrents,
more and less,

Which have solicited--
The rest is silence."

JACOBS:
Okay, now, you can't

expect me to believe
Duckman said that.

In fact, I'm beginning
to doubt this entire story.

Well, maybe it didn't happen
exactly like that,

but the only way we could get
this episode's sex and v*olence

past the V-chip

was to hide behind a cultural
icon like Hamlet

which,
if it were written today,

would itself be censored.

And it worked!

Our show is done...

The villain's whipped...

The good guys won...

We did our best...

Pulled out the stops...

Let's all rejoice...

ALL:
And take off our tops!

BERNICE:
Oh, God, it's horrible!
I can't watch!