Duckman: Private Dick/Family Man

Duckman:
Last one in the car mops up the vomit.

Duckman:
Did I ever tell you my Dad's last words to me?

Cornfed:
"Careful, son, I don't think the safety is on."

Duckman:
Before that.

Duckman:
I can't believe they shared their girlfriends with us, Corny. I just spent the night with the sexiest, most insatiable, voluptuous, adventurous, least-inhibited woman I've ever met. If she didn't suddenly get a headache... woo hoo. there's no telling what wild and tawdry escapades we might have experienced. How was your night?

Cornfed:
Like yours... minus the headache.

Prof. Provenheim:
I am here to introduce you to the greatest advance in civilization in this century.

Ajax:
CONDOMS. They held a vote at school.

King Chicken:
The students, professors, all animatrons. Robots.

Duckman:
Even Deanna, that lovely coed?

King Chicken:
Nope. I've never been able to make breasts. She's a muppet.

Duckman:
Ohh. To be Frank Oz for a day.

Ajax:
Once bread become toast, it can never go back.

Ajax:
If they made tugboats bigger, they could be the boats other boats tug.

Cornfed:
Once again, the U.S. is spending millions to oust a puppet they spent millions to get into office. They'll spend more millions on the coverup to hide having spent those millions and even more millions to discredit members of the media who report otherwise. It's a good thing they print their own money.

Duckman:
If words were cherry stems, my tongue would be in Sherilyn Fenn's mouth.

Duckman:
She's a bigger ripoff than those talk-to-a-nympho-in-prison hotlines that double charge you on your phone bill when they know you can't do a thing about it 'cause you can't tell anyone you called them in the first place... so I heard.

Mambo:
I'm tempted to die to I can get a head start on spinning in my grave.

Duckman:
My greatest fantasy involves you, some sausages down your pants, and pack of starving Rotweilers.

Duckman:
Can you believe it? Five hundred bucks for a parking ticket?

Cornfed Pig:
You parked in a handicapped zone.

Duckman:
Who cares? Nobody parks there anyway, except for the people who are supposed to park there and, hell, I can outrun them anytime.

Charles:
We saw a movie where, during a drill, terrorists took over a city.

Ajax:
Well, I saw a movie where, during a drill, terrorists took over a city.

Charles:
Ajax, that's the same movie.

Ajax:
They're all the same movie. That's why Hollywood movies are like visits from old friends.

Ajax:
You know, Dad, I think you're my favorite dad.

Duckman:
Only.

Ajax:
Only what?

Duckman:
Only dad.

Ajax:
Only dad what?

Ajax:
I like toast. Its the muffins that must be stopped.

Eric Duckman:
Remember kids, when you get to prison attach yourself to the biggest, toughest, meanest looking goon you can find. You don't wanna wind up as just anyone's b*tch.

Eric Duckman:
Dwaah. Dwaah. A thousand times, DWAAH.

Duckman:
Damn ninjas are like roaches in this city.

Beverly:
It's not too often that you see one horse's ass on top of another.

Con-Chicken:
DWAAH.

Duckman:
Hey. Get your own wacky scream.

[repeated line]

Duckman:
What the f*** are YOU staring at?

Duckman:
I will rise from the ashes like a Knightsbridge.

Ben Stein:
Mr. Duckman, if the body is a temple, then you've committed countless acts of desecration.

Duckman:
Miracle Schmiracle, I bet those mindless pod people who believe in that thing still wait up for the tooth fairy.

Fluffy:
Why shouldn't they?

Duckman:
Because he's rotting in a Turkish jail.

Mambo:
Does a high ranking religious figure evacuate his bowels in a wooded area?

Bernice:
You spent the last six days watching that video tape where she learns what all her vacuum attachments are for.

Sherry:
You said you erased that.

Cornfed:
Erased, ran off thousands of copies... it's such a fine line.

[Duckman's body is growing]

Duckman:
Doctor, something's wrong. I'm growing.

Doctor:
Duckman, those are called *erections*. They happen all the time.

Duckman:
No, I mean I'm really growing.

Duckman:
It's times like this that I wish I had a penis.

Lenord Nimoy:
Oh man. That's the last time I eat a headcheese hogie before bedtime.

Duckman:
We don't need no Dutch Elm/North Flem scum. EAT FLOURIDE LAWN JOCKIES.

Bernice:
DWAH.

Duckman:
That's enough with the Dwahs. I do the Dwahhs okay? YIKES.

Mambo:
What do you want to bet that he's doing something to further humiliate and embarrass us?

Dr Stien:
Mr Duckman if, as an adult, cannot act with a moderate of decorum I'll rip your eyes out and feed them to my dingos.

Cornfed:
Duckman maybe it's a good idea not to tick Dr Stien off.

Duckman:
What's he going to do? Oh Dr Stien is angry.

Bernice:
There's something fishy going on around here

Duckman:
Good. I'm glad I'm not the only one who's sensing a lot of suck ups around here.

Mambo:
Hey, everybody!

Charles:
Expensive electronic equipment and thick wads of cash are being delivered to three houses on North Phleghm.

Bernice:
[North Phleghm Neighbors gasp] TRAITORS!

Ben Stein:
Let's book.

Bernice:
Who are you?

Duckman:
She's Beatrice.

Beverley:
No I'm not.

Duckman:
Yes you are.

Bernice:
She knows who she is you moron.

Bernice:
If you're my sister then do you know what that means?

Duckman:
A threesome?

Mambo:
Would you please tell her quickly.

Charles:
Aunt Beverly is your other sister who got misplaced in the hospital

Bernice:
Do you know what this means?

Eric Duckman:
A threesome?

Beverly, Bernice:
No! TRIPLETS!

Bernice:
So you've heard about?

Beverly:
Yes I know.

Bernice:
And after she married Duckman she died. I'd love it if you would stay.

Beverly:
I don't know. I don't want to be a bother.

Charles:
[Jumping up and down excitedly] Oh that would be great.

Mambo:
OOH! Stop jumping!

[Duckman is sentenced to 5000 hours of community service]

Duckman:
5000 hours? That's 45 minutes!

Cornfed:
Actually, it's seven months.

Duckman:
Damn metric system.

Duckman:
Hi Beverly

Beverly:
Hi. Look I'm sorry for pretending to be your dead wife.

Duckman:
No that's okay. You stayed with me when you didn't have to. You saved my life.

Beverly:
It was my pleasure.

Duckman:
By the way. When I was unconious did I say anything embarrassing or private?

Beverly:
No! No! If you did then I've long forgotten it.

Duckman:
Oh okay. Well, goodnight Beverly.

Beverly:
Goodnight Eric.

Charles:
So it's decided. When this hideous marriage takes place and screws up our heads Mambo and I will stick up convenience stores.

Mambo:
and Ajax you'll be a street hustler.

[Ajax dressed in a street hustler costume]

Ajax:
I'm way ahead of you.

Ajax:
He was killed when a group of hungry nuns went running towards the snack booth. He was pushed into the cotton candy machine and he got mutilated in the whirling batter of spun sugar.

Bernice:
Another senseless religious confection death.

Cornfed Pig:
You're aware that while it affords one the momentary illusion of satisfaction, the spewing of bile is never a permanent solution.

Eric Duckman:
I'll be tireless in my efforts for Duckman doesn't know the meaning of the word 'quit.'

Cornfed Pig:
Apparently, the word 'clue' slipped through the cracks as well.

Salesman:
I'm not an actor, but I play one on TV. And that's why I bikini wax with the new and improved 'Gee Your Groin Looks Well-Groomed.'

Nurse:
Ma'am, please wait outside. The doctor may need to start slamming his fist on the patient's chest and yelling 'Live, damn you, live., and that can be hard to watch.

Cornfed Pig:
Color me kooky, but something very odd is going on around here.

Cornfed Pig:
I haven't felt tension like that since I got stuck in an elevator with Pat Buchanan and RuPaul.

Eric Duckman:
How are you, my dear? I hope that life has treated you better than time has.

Eric Duckman:
Ha Ha Ha. We will now pause for Jealousy to put its head up your ugly rear.

Eric Duckman:
They towed my car, Cornie. And for no other reason than it was illegally parked and had $1200 in unpaid tickets.

Cornfed Pig:
Also, you stole it.

Eric Duckman:
No shineola, Sherlock.

Eric Duckman:
OK, son, now you're starting to scare the viewers.

Cornfed Pig:
You can't keep us here, you know. We're Americans. We have rights.

Eric Duckman:
Including the right to bear arms. So, uh, could we, like, have some guns?

Cornfed Pig:
The password is 'Bad Writing.'

Eric Duckman:
Until Esperanto comes back, you want to ease off on the foreign mumbo-jumbo?

Bernice:
Something funny's going on here.

Eric Duckman:
It's about time. I'm getting sick of all the social commentary.

Cornfed Pig:
This is Cornfed. In the name of humanity, will you agree to peace talks?

Man:
How are things on your end?

Eric Duckman:
Fine since the sores healed.

Cornfed Pig:
It's my fault, I was attempting an actual conversation.

Eric Duckman:
Well, nice knowing you, son. Not like I don't love you or anything, but you know how people are. They'll assume that sort of thing runs in the family, and frankly I got a tough enough time picking up chicks to begin with. So good luck, be careful, and maybe we'll see you on TV sometime lip-synching Over The Rainbow at one of those Pride parades.

Eric Duckman:
You realize, of course, this means war...

Cornfed:
It sounds like it's having an hallucinogenic effect. Not like a drug which is harmful and wrong and just say no, kids, but spacey nonetheless.

Emcee:
The best way to take our minds off the smell of burning flesh is to begin tonight's karaoke contest.

Duckman:
Quiet. I can't hear myself lie.

Duckman:
Talk about a crime, I can't believe I wore those platform shoes.

Cornfed:
Be careful, Duckman. A cursory olfactory analysis of this woman's sweat glands indicates that decades of alcohol ingestion have permeated her cellular structure and made her a prime candidate for spontaneous combustion.

Duckman:
Don't blame me, you rug-wearing suburban psycho.

Duckman:
Heck, I got suits pending against me from three different dating services and the teen chatline.

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

Duckman:
What do you say, Corn Syrup? Blow their minds with our patented Sonny and Cher medley?

Cornfed:
I'd love to, except my sequined squaw outfit's still at the cleaners.

Duckman:
I'm taking a vacation. Where's my bathing suit with the padded bulge?

Fluffy:
It should be in here.

Uranus:
Right next to your foam rubber pectoral enhancer.

Cornfed:
From the moment she opened her mouth I wanted to sublet her tongue, move into her larynx, and re-do the upper incisors in mauve. Well, not exactly mauve, but mauvish.

Ajax:
Gravity is not just a law, it's also a good idea.

King Chicken:
Duckman do you remember when you had a toothache?

Duckman:
Yeah, my dentist was arrested for mal-practice. Who was the replacement? You?

[King Chicken looks smug]

Duckman:
DAMN YOU CHICKEN! YOU CHARGED ME $50!

Duckman:
Willabald Fivel? [laughing] Willabald Fivel?

Cornfed:
Uh Duckman. My problem? I have to have sex with a woman or else I'm going to die.

Duckman:
Oh yes. Don't worry Cornfed. I'll find you a woman.

[snickering]

Duckman:
Willabald Fivel!

Cornfed:
Before we get down to these peace talks I have one preliminary request. Would you please stop shocking Duckman?

Venom:
Damn! I just got it working.

Venom:
I call this meeting of the Block Neighborhood Association to order. Now I have a way of ending this quickly, painlessly, and quickly. I move that Dutch Elm Street annex North Phlegm Avenue.

[North Phlegm Neighbors groan]

Margo Duck:
I think it would be good to be under the direction of a strong, benevolent tyrant like Mr. Venom.

Dr Stien:
As a doctor I think it's an ideal way to deal with this.

Art Desalvo:
I never thought of it before but I think it's an idea that's worth considering.

Cornfed:
You got a letter from the IRS.

Duckman:
I'm outta here! Forward my magazines to that PO Box in Rio.

Cornfed:
Duckman, you can't hide from the IRS. They're everywhere.

Duckman:
Excuse me sir, I'd like to reclaim my father's body from storage.

[Terry Duke Tetsloff turns around]

Duckman:
Terry Duke Tetsloff!

Terry Duke Tetsloff:
At your service Mr Duckman.

Duckman:
Wait a minute aren't you that sleazy con-man who sold my family a defective home security system, gave an overpriced funeral to my mother-in-law when she wasn't really dead and artifically enseminated my sister-in-law with my sperm?

Terry Duke Tetsloff:
The very same one. Say are you here to reclaim your father's body?

Duckman:
Yep.

Terry Duke Tetsloff:
I'll just go and get it and remember no ticky, no body.

Duckman:
Hey cantino boy. I need a tall glass of water. My sister-in-law and her birthday suit just gave me a libidoectomy.

Judge:
Mr Tetsloff, is your home security system defective?

Terry Duke Tetsloff:
Only if you're dumb enough to go in there and try to fix it yourself.

[Duckman has spilled something on his chest causing a stain that looks like a Rorschach inkblot]

Duckman:
Well now look what you made me do! I gotta go in there with a picture of me and Vanna White frolicking naked with a tribe of pygmies on my chest!

Cornfed:
Hmm. Looks like synchronized swimmers crocheting mittens in a pool filled with truffles to me.

Duckman:
You're sick.

[on Duckman's Rorschach-like stain]

Bob Hiney:
Any particular reason you got a picture of a drag queen on a Shetland pony licking a flaming banjo on your chest?

Duckman:
All right, never mind that!

[more on Duckman's Rorschach-like stain]

Val de Ree:
Excuse me, why do you have a picture of me, a rabbi, and six drunken longshoreman rolling around on a rubber bed on your chest?

Art 'Bones' McSalvo:
Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a rodeo clown!

Duckman:
I work hard everyday to provide food and clothes for my family.

Mambo:
[heading out the door] Bye dad. We're going out to the mall. Although we haven' had a pair of jeans that fit us in the past 2 years.

Duckman:
Okay so I provide food for my family.

Ajax:
Bye Dod. I'm going out to eat and then I'm going to go for a walk in the city's seedy underbelly to learn things that you'll never comprehend.

Duckman:
Why is it that everything I say ends up becoming some perfectly timed joke at my expense?

Bernice:
[walks into the room] I didn't hear you otherwise I would have made a joke at your expense.

Dr. Susan Fox:
Cornfed, I'm sensing that you have "issues".

Cornfed:
Oh, I have issues all right. Like that time he made me miss my mother's funeral so he could carterize his lucky goiter or that time he got drunk and gave my phone number out to all of those prostitutes or that time he sold all of my furniture to buy those Who's The Boss comemorative plates.

Duckman:
They were supposed to triple in value. DAMN YOU TO HELL TONY DANZA!

Dr. Susan Fox:
How does that make you feel, Duckman?

Duckman:
Like a bottle of open spit.

Cornfed:
You and what United States Peacekeeping force?

Ajax:
I found it a provocative piece of stagecraft, marred only by the author's over-weening pretense towards psychological insight. But the violence was keen.

Roxanne:
I do not like all of this fighting between Dutch Elm Street and North Flem Ave. Please walk this way.

Duckman:
[just as Ajax, Dr Stein and Art DiSalvo are about to walk the same way as the Dutch Elm Street Block association Leader's Maid] Do it and you're off the series.

Agent Dennehy:
This is the IRS! Throw out your wallets and surrender!

Bernice:
Okay you've got 10 seconds to cough up his flemball of a mother before I report you to the department of touchy, feely, fake religions.

Duckman:
I'm just one more duck detective, that works with a pig, lives with the twin sister of his dead wife, three sons on two bodies, and a mother-in-law with so much gas, she's a fire hazard.

Duckman:
I hope this doesn't sound grandiose, but tonight I begin my pre-ordained ascent towards the global adulation I so richly deserve.

Charles:
Aunt Bernice?

Ajax:
No. This is our new Aunt Beverly in our old Aunt Bernice's clothes pretending to be our dead mom Beatrice. If I can keep it straight you can keep it straight.

Beverly:
[thinking] Thank God Beatrice isn't alive to see this.

Eric Duckman:
[looking at Beverly's breasts] Buttercup! Iisa!

Duckman:
Comedy should provoke! It should blast through prejudices, challenge preconceptions! Comedy should always leave you different than when it found you. Sure, humor can hurt, even alienate, but the risk is better than the alternative: a steady diet of innocuous, child-proof, flavorless mush! Demand to be challenged, to be offended, to be treated like thinking, reasoning adults. And raise your children to be the same. Don't let a comedian, a network, a Congressional committee, or an evil genius take away your freedom to laugh at whatever you want.

Duckman:
Boo-freaking-hoo. Like I am supposed to take women and how they feel seriously? You ought to be accepted for your minds but you throw a hissy fit royal? if someone isn't saying you look great 30 hours a day. You say you want a nice guy but you only give it up to the creeps. You get to stay home, not go to war, live longer, and have sex whenever you want! So remind me again what exact is there to complain about!

[Duckman is outraged that his car has just been towed]

Duckman:
I can't believe they towed my car! And only because it was parked in a tow-away zone and I had $1,200 worth of unpaid parking tickets.

Cornfed:
Also, you stole it.

Duckman:
It was dark. How was I supposed to tell the difference between a parking lot at the mall and a Mazda dealership?

Duckman:
Somewhere, somehow they all got chewed up and spit back out. They don't taste like living anymore. Don't you see what's it's like living in this deranged, Waring blender of a world? Every day is an agonizing ordeal, like balancing a pot of scalding water on your head while people whip your legs and butt. Ah, you never forget your senior prom. You think I'm sick? Well the only disease I've got is modern life, a shnug-busting gauntlet of inefficiency and misery that's one long parade of letdowns, putdown, trickledowns, shutouts, freezeouts, sellouts, numbnuts, nickenputz and nimrods! All making every day as much fun as waxing a flaming Pontiac with your tongue! And even if you do luck into the possibility of some fleeting pleasure, like say if some nimphomaniac telephone operator with the muscle control of Romanian matslappers agree to a little strip air-hockey, it will be over before it starts, cuz some foul lacking, fedder reeking cab-jockey slams his Checker up your hatchback and the cab is owned by some pinata spanker from a Santa Ria culpa a culpa who starts shaking chicken bones at you and gives you a boil on your neck so big that all it needs is Michael Jordan's autograph to make it complete! And even with all this, with all this! I still drag my sorry butt off the Sealy every morning and stick my face in the reaping machine for one more day! Knowing when it's time to flash the cosmic card key at those pearly gates, I won't be in the coffin anyways, because some underhanded undertaker sold my heart, pancreas and other assorted good and plenty to that same Santa Ria cult! So does anybody really wonder why anybody is hanging onto sanity by the atoms on the tips of their fingernails, while life dirty dances on their digits, and is it really any wonder THAT I SEEM DERANGED?

Cornfed Pig:
I know over two hundred ways to kill a man.

Sherry:
You could glue an open jar of rats to his face. Then blowtorch the other side of the jar, so the rats have to eat their way out threw his face.

Cornfed Pig:
[pause] Two Hundred and one.

Actress:
Please Duckman! I'm your sister...

Bernice:
[after spitting out her drink] In law! Sister in law!

Bernice:
Look the whole south side of the street's joined up with Venom!

Duckman:
We don't need no Dutch Elm/North Phleghm scum. EAT FLOURIDE LAWN JOCKEYS!

Bernice:
DWAAAHHH!

Duckman:
That's enough with the DWAAHS! I do the DWAAHS okay? [Sees an angry mob of neighbours!] YIKES!

Val de Ree:
There seems to be a suspicion that Stanley's death involved foul play. Clearly there's nothing to support that theory, but the insurance company is insisting on an investigation. They won't even let me move the body until it's proven that he died of natural causes. Do you think you can help me?

Eric Duckman:
Uh, sorry, I - I didn't hear you. I was staring at your breasts.

Val de Ree:
I understand. They're very supple, I'm told.

Eric Duckman:
I'll be tireless in my efforts, for Duckman doesn't know the meaning of the word "quit."

Cornfed Pig:
Apparently, the word "clue" slipped through the cracks as well.

Eric Duckman:
Bunch of thin-skinned, no-humor pansies! You tell them an ice-breaker or two about prostitutes, gays, environmentalists, several minorities, the homeless, couple of religions, anorexics, obese people, the handicapped, old farts, baldness, and people who walk real goofy because they've just had a vasectomy, and suddenly, they get all sensitive, like I offended one of them or something!

Eric Duckman:
What gives you the right to judge people?

Dr. Henri Ducharme:
The diploma. Judging people is pretty much the main benefit of the job.

Dr. Gerhardt Morsink:
That, and the license plates with MD on them. You can park practically anywhere.

Eric Duckman:
Don't you see what's it's like living in this deranged, Waring blender of a world? Every day is an agonizing ordeal, like balancing a pot of scalding water on your head while people whip your legs and butt. Ah, you never forget your senior prom. You think I'm sick? Well the only disease I've got is modern life, a shnug-busting gauntlet of inefficiency and misery that's one long parade of letdowns, putdowns, trickle-downs, shutouts, freezeouts, sellouts, numbnuts, nincompoops and nimrods! All making every day as much fun as waxing a flaming Pontiac with your tongue! And even if you do luck into the possibility of some fleeting pleasure, like say if some nymphomaniac telephone operator with the muscle control of Romanian mat slappers agree to a little strip air hockey, it will be over before it starts, 'cause some foul lacking, Feta-reeking cab jockey slams his checker up your hatchback and the cab is owned by some pinata-spanker from a Santaria cult who starts shaking chicken bones at you and gives you a boil on your neck so big that all it needs is Michael Jordan's autograph to make it complete! And even with all this, with all this! I still drag my sorry butt off the Sealy every morning and stick my face in the reaping machine for one more day! Knowing when it's time to flash the cosmic card key at those pearly gates, I won't be in the coffin anyways, because some underhanded undertaker sold my heart, pancreas and other assorted good and plenty to that same Santaria cult! So does anybody really wonder why anybody is hanging onto sanity by the atoms on the tips of their fingernails, while life dirty dances on their digits, and is it really any wonder THAT I SEEM DERANGED?

Dr. Gerhardt Morsink:
Dee Dee! You are insane and I can prove it! [shows a picture of little square]

Cornfed Pig:
A PTA meeting with cucumbers instead of parents.

Dr. Gerhardt Morsink:
That's it! You are the first one that ever get it right!

Dr. Henri Ducharme:
You're free to go.

Cornfed Pig:
Thanx. Sorry.

Eric Duckman:
Why, I bet a kid, thinking I was a role model and wanting to imitate my behavior, could easily steal sodas from a vending machine, too. DO IT! Do it now, kids! Sick it to the man!

Eric Duckman:
[each sentence is a clip from a previous episode] You long-haired, fat-bellied, goofy-tattooed, 60's throwback Village People wannabe biker freak! Mantra-chanting, incense-breathing, herb-sucking yahoos! Brainless, knuckle-dragging ball hogs! Cheese-eating, cocoa-guzzling yodelers! Thin-skinned, no-humored pansies! Dim-bulb melon head! Mindless pod people! The Magical Mystery Turd! Dancing Queen! Dipstick! Sushi sucker! Butt-head! What the hell are you staring at? What the hell are you staring at? What the hell are you staring at? What the hell are you staring at? What the hell are you staring at? What the hell are you staring at? What the hell are you staring at?

Narrator:
In the criminal justice system, there are two separate but equally important groups. The police and prosecutors, who apprehend and try the offenders, and the idiotic defendants who take up the court's time with their self-serving blather. These are their stories. [Law & Order theme plays]

Judge:
You've shown galling contempt for me, for this court room, and most importantly, for the law, in front of some Malthus High honor students that I invited! What must they think of the law now? What lessons have they...

Eric Duckman:
Uh, judge, FYI, "Singled Out" starts in twenty minutes, and I'm way across town.

Judge:
That's it! I'm making an example of you! I hereby sentence you to 5,000 hours of community service at Malthus High School, starting today! We've adjourned. Bailiff! If he's not gone in fifteen seconds, kill him!

Hans:
I am Hans, may I help you gentlemen?

Eric Duckman:
You betcha Heintz, we're from AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-1 Plumbing.

Hans:
You're from AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-1 Plumbing?

Cornfed Pig:
Yes, we're from AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-1 Plumbing.

Lady Calowina Worthington-Ford:
Ah, are these the men from AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-1 Plumbing?

Hans:
Yes, they say they're from AAAAAAAAAAAAAA...

Eric Duckman:
Al right! C'mon, we don't even have a plot yet.

Eric Duckman:
So, did you check outside?

Cornfed Pig:
No footprints in the soft-earth under the windows, and no tire-tracks in the gravel driveway. Whoever stole the Sharon Stone is still here. We have to check out the guests.

Eric Duckman:
[rubs his hands together] Okay, when's checkout time.

Cornfed Pig:
[slaps Duckman] Will you cut it out? Remember, everyone is a suspect, so be careful. If we blow our cover, the crooks might come after us.

Eric Duckman:
Big deal!

Cornfed Pig:
They might get tough with us.

Eric Duckman:
Let 'em!

Cornfed Pig:
They might kill us.

Eric Duckman:
[turns to run] See ya.

Cornfed Pig:
Say, are you a man or a mouse?

Eric Duckman:
I'm more of a flea.

Cornfed Pig:
Flea?

Eric Duckman:
[turns to run] If you say so.

Lady Calowina Worthington-Ford:
[as Cornfed, in disguise, reaches into her purse] Whatever are you doing in my pruse?

Cornfed Pig:
[with fake accent] Please to be forgiving, madam. But was for your own safety. Was merely checking bag for uh... volves.

Lady Calowina Worthington-Ford:
Volv... I mean uh... wolves? Ridiculous.

Cornfed Pig:
Maybe is ridiculous in U of S, but in my country is eat or be eaten. Volves is number one pest. Must always look all over for volves. For is always many volves. Volves to right, volves to left, volves in the mid...

Lady Calowina Worthington-Ford:
Yes, yes, all right. A lot of wolves.

Cornfed Pig:
[begins shouting] Not just a lot! You're not listening! Is thousands of vovles everywhere! AT THE DROP OF A HAT, YOU WILL FIND WOLF IN HAT!

Army Leader Guest:
My goodness, what an appetite!

Eric Duckman:
Uh... yes, well... hold-over from my days in the military. Eh, what?

Army Leader Guest:
Infantry?

Eric Duckman:
No, we were adults.

Homer Simpson:
What the hell are you staring at?

Eric Duckman:
I haven't felt a metal mama since I had to strap one on during my honeymoon.

Eric Duckman:
Corny! I thought you morphed into a futuristic, flesh-craving metal man!

Cornfed Pig:
Have you been sticking the caulking gun up your nose again?

Eric Duckman:
I think I just made in my pants.

Cornfed Pig:
But you're not wearing any... ew.

Cornfed Pig:
Remember last year's Duckman Detective Agency talent competition?

Eric Duckman:
I sure do! We should have won! But that damn Uranus just *becomes* Liza!

Fluffy:
Let's move on to the word association part of the test.

Eric Duckman:
Breasts.

Uranus:
Mr. Duckman we haven't st...

Eric Duckman:
Breasts.

Fluffy:
Dog.

Eric Duckman:
Breasts.

Fluffy:
White.

Eric Duckman:
Breasts.

Fluffy:
Peanut butter.

Eric Duckman:
Breasts.

Fluffy:
Tanzania

Eric Duckman:
Breasts.

Fluffy:
Communism.

Eric Duckman:
Breasts.

Fluffy:
Dolly Parton.

Eric Duckman:
Bad hair.

[Fluffy and Uranus are administering a test on Duckman to determine his sensitivity toward women]

Fluffy:
Question one: women over the age of 18 are often referred to as girls. How should you refer to them?

Eric Duckman:
Sweet potato?

Fluffy:
No!

Eric Duckman:
Love socket?

Fluffy:
No!

Eric Duckman:
Box lunch?

Fluffy:
Question two: when is it all right to kiss a woman?

Eric Duckman:
When her husband leaves?

Fluffy:
No!

Eric Duckman:
When the sore heals?

Fluffy:
No!

Eric Duckman:
When she wakes up?

Beartrice:
Stop the wedding.

Eric Duckman:
So sowwie I... Beartrice?

Mrs Chicken:
Who's Beartrice?

Eric Duckman:
She's my wife... I mean my first wife... I mean you're alive?

Beartrice:
Of course I am. Didn't Cornfed ever tell you?

Cornfed Pig:
Du, Du, Duckman I can explain.

Duckman:
This is where it happened Cornfed. This is where it all started to go very wrong.

Cornfed:
You mean by leaving an old lady unattended in the car while going in to get two baked buns with the keys in the ignition and the engine idling?

Duckman:
Shows what you know. They were steamed buns. Now if we can just get to the task at hand. [taking Gecko out of a bag] Okay Geko it's time to earn your Christmas bowl of water. Here's a piece of Grandma-ma's dress reeking of her tangy bouquet. He's got the scent Corny. Let's go!

Duckman:
You were the one who made up this whole new world! You screwed up - not me!

Kalai Pr?venheim:
Impossible! I am infallible!

Duckman:
I don't care *what* religion you are! You made things worse when you made them better! I mean, I liked having a lot of free time, but I hated not having anything to do. Don't you see, things were good when they were bad, and they got bad when they were good. People aren't happy unless they're unhappy.

Cornfed Pig:
Easy, Duckman. I know over two hundred ways to kill a man.

Sherry:
You could glue an open jar of rats to his face. Then blowtorch the other side of the jar, so the rats have to eat their way out through his face.

Cornfed Pig:
[pause] Two Hundred and one.

Sherry:
[sternly] You said you erased that!

Cornfed Pig:
Erased, Ran off thousands of copies. It's such a fine line.

Ajax:
[entering] It's over! Paradise is lost! The Utopian dream forever shattered and never to be regained!

Voice outside:
It's a riot!

Ajax:
But I could use a new stereo

[exit]

Duckman:
[chuckling] Yes, well once again I've outwitted a pitifully inadequate opponent by staying one step ahead of 'em. [pause] How exactly did I do that?

Eric Duckman:
What a piece of crap is man!

Eric Duckman:
What a tongue-shaped, urine-colored ass am I!

Eric Duckman:
Your idea of a medieval classic is Piscopo doing Sinatra!

Eric Duckman:
Alas, poor Yelnick. I knew him well. What a moron.

Eric Duckman:
I've written a play for King Chicken. And you're gonna help me perform it for him. Any questions?

Charles:
Yes. When does the English translation come out?

Mambo:
The only part of meet that feels uplifted is my stomach.

Cornfed:
Duckman, were you doing a soliloquy?

Eric Duckman:
No, I'm against drugs, Corny. I was just talking to myself.

Cornfed Pig:
It's the dream again, Duckman. You're letting it win. I know. I used to have a recurring dream. I'd dream I fell and hit my head on a fishbowl. Hurt myself just bad enough to work graveyard shift at a convenience store. A group of Hare Krishnas always came in at 4 AM and bought sixteen gallons of Mr. Slushie, and a package of banana flavored Ding Dongs. Then, the Swedish bikini team jumped out of a magazine and read Moby Dick to me inside a giant carton of cottage cheese. "Why?" I'd ask myself. What could it mean? Am I mad? Or is the world simply a mystery too complex to understand?

[Duckman is cross-examining King Chicken]

Eric Duckman:
King Chicken - Was it you or me that day that said "egg?"

George Herbert Walker 'King' Chicken:
This... is your plan? [chuckles]

Eric Duckman:
Just answer the question!

George Herbert Walker 'King' Chicken:
It was you.

Eric Duckman:
Exa... heh. Oops. Well, uh - Was my saying "egg" in any way because of ventriloquism? And remember: You are under oath!

George Herbert Walker 'King' Chicken:
No! There was no ventriloquism!

Eric Duckman:
Uh... ha, ha. Did you, uh... use any kind of a hypno-ray on the crowd that made them hear "egg" when I really said "chicken?"

George Herbert Walker 'King' Chicken:
You idiot! I assumed you had a reason for...

Eric Duckman:
Ah! You *assumed!* Is that correct?

George Herbert Walker 'King' Chicken:
[growls] Yes!

Eric Duckman:
Then you shouldn't *assume!* [writes "assume" on a chalkboard] Because when you *assume,* you... you... - Wait. There's a trick here. I used to know it...

Eric Duckman:
Did you talk to my lawyer/urologist, Donald "The Shiv" Grillo?

Cornfed Pig:
Yes, but he didn't answer back. He's dead. A rare case of peacetime fragging.

Eric Duckman:
Damned Coast Guard reserve.

Eric Duckman:
Corny! Am I glad you're here! They stuck me in jail just because I said the egg came before the chicken.

Cornfed Pig:
They disagree. It's heresy in this town to challenge their theory of chicken creationism - the deeply held belief that the chicken came before the egg. It's the same kind of mindless, intellectually bankrupt belief system once found in the Druids. Or the Reagan Administration.

Cornfed Pig:
Were you abused by your parents?

Eric Duckman:
No.

Cornfed Pig:
Teased at school?

Eric Duckman:
No.

Cornfed Pig:
A victim of racial rage?

Eric Duckman:
No.

Cornfed Pig:
Sexually harassed?

Eric Duckman:
No.

Cornfed Pig:
Fired for being chronically tardy?

Eric Duckman:
No.

Cornfed Pig:
Ever eat Twinkies?

Cornfed Pig:
Don't worry, Duckman. I'll see to it you get off - I mean, see to it you're found not guilty.

Judge:
Defense, cross?

Cornfed Pig:
No, just a little peeved.

Eric Duckman:
Bernice, I am sick and tired of you treating me like some dim-bulb melonhead who's always on the verge of his next screw-up!

[Duckman hits the car, which then loses a tire and collapses]

Bernice:
Okay, who had "destroys car" in the next Duckman screw-up pool?

Charles:
I had "buys Lincoln Memorial."

Mambo:
"Loses house in pyramid scheme."

Ajax:
Herpes.

Eric Duckman:
I know you all came here to see Iggy Catalpa, because you think he's funny, because you like his style, because you just plain like him, right? But you just think you do. Because you were manipulated into thinking you do by him: King Chicken. He did it the same way they manipulate us into buying toothpaste, car wax, even politicians. All pre-packaged, the least offensive, most appealing alternative. But it's precisely when humor is offensive that we need it most. Comedy should provoke. It should blast through prejudices, challenge preconceptions. Comedy should always leave you different than when it found you. Sure humor can hurt even alienate but the risk is better than the alternative; a steady diet of innocuous, child proof, flavorless mush. Demand to be challenged, to be offended, to be treated like thinking, reasoning adults and raise your children to be the same. Don't let a comedian, a network, a congressional committee, or an evil genius take away your freedom to laugh at whatever you want.

Dr. Ben Stein:
Ow. I never cut my finger on a urine sample before.

Eric Duckman:
I just passed a stone bigger than Bill Wyman.

Cornfed Pig:
How ironic that urination, once such a source of pleasure for you, has become a painful ordeal.

Cornfed:
Reading the paper?

Uncle Mo Dorkin:
No, I'm landing the space shuttle, buckle up.

Uncle Mo Dorkin:
Hurry up, ya moron, I'm stuck here with dweedledum, dweedledummer and dweedle-what-a-friggin-moron.

Beverly:
Yes fan-Guccio-tastic.

Eric Duckman:
Yeah! Say... You're not going to go spouting that anti-Penthouse pro-feminist mumbo-jumbo are you?

Beverly:
No not at all. If I made you give up Penthouse then to be consistent I'd have to give up Play Girl and I am not doing that. Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope!

[Short pause]

Beverly:
Excuse me I have to finish unpacking. [Beverly runs upstairs]

Uncle Mo Dorkin:
Look at this! I'm talking to traif!

Eric Duckman:
I've got a chance to do something I haven't done since the seventh grade.

Cornfed:
Date fifth-grade girls?

Eric Duckman:
Ah, good morrow, gentle Vic. I think it was the poet Yeats who said, "morning has broken the first blackbird in the dead of night."

Beverly:
Talk about your blank verse.

Cornfed:
It's from "The Big Book of Psychotic Nonsense."

Joe Walsh:
[singing to the tune of "Life's Been Good"] # My name is Moe and I was an old man/It took me hours to go to the can/Time made me deaf, made it harder to see/Enlarged my prostate so I couldn't pee/I was a mean and vindictive old guy/Nobody liked me, not hard to see why/But Heaven can take me, it really still can/if all of you girls will sleep with Duckman/ Lucky I'm dead after all I've been through/Everybody say oy-vey. #

All:
Oy vey.

Joe Walsh:
# I can't complain but sometimes I still do/Life was good to me 'til now. '

Joe Walsh:
Hey, man, Duckman, you gotta do something about your driveway. It's covered in grass.

Cornfed:
Uh, Joe. That's not a driveway. You parked on Ben Stein's lawn.

Joe Walsh:
Oh, that must've been the guy who was yelling "you're on my lawn, you're on my lawn." I thought he wanted me to play "All Night Long."

Eric Duckman:
Look, Bernice, I hate to prick your balloon...

Bernice:
Duckman, I believe the phrase is "burst your bubble."

Eric Duckman:
I know. I just like to say "prick" whenever I can.

Bernice:
Duckman, I feel like a new woman!

Eric Duckman:
Me, too. Unfortunately I'm about ten bucks short.

Eric Duckman:
Did I ever tell you my father's last words to me?

Cornfed Pig:
Um-hm. "Careful, son, I don't think the safety's on."

Eric Duckman:
Before that!

Eric Duckman:
Mrs. Leibner, your husband was an honorable man, who always put his family first. Why, it was out of consideration for you that he concealed his rampant homosexuality.

[Mrs. Leibner gasps]

Eric Duckman:
In fact, the last thing he said to me was, "Duckman, don't tell my wife."

Bernice:
Duckman!

Eric Duckman:
What? It's true! He was protecting you. He was afraid you would think you drove him to it, but you didn't. He said he stopped caring about you 20 years before he even slept with a man.

Eric Duckman:
Anyway, I don't get it. All the women you've known and you've never had sex? Fed the meter? Shellacked the furniture? Jellied the doughnut? Booted the hard drive? Sent the pink Cadillac to Lube Masters for a tune-up? Knicknacked Patty's whack? Gave Ms. Pacman something to munch? Cast a secret ballot for Goomaster General? Studied spernography...

Cornfed:
Point made. And no, I don't base my relationships with women on sex?

Eric Duckman:
What else is there?

Cornfed:
Common interests, intellect, a shared humor...

Eric Duckman:
Uh-huh.

Eric Duckman:
We need women who never meet desirable men. That's why were here. Let's face it, if you can't score at a Star Trek convention, you might as well be dead.

Eric Duckman:
It's so typical of women. When you weren't looking for it, when you didn't care, they swarmed all over you. But need it just a little, they smell your desperation a mile away.

Cornfed:
Duckman, daddy-o, you have ears but cannot hear... actually, you don't have ears.

Duckman:
He's coming back on.

Cornfed:
Wait, this is really creepy. How do you hear? What holds your glasses on?

Duckman:
Never mind about the ears!

Cornfed:
Really, I've never seen that before. Hey guys, you ever see anyone without ears before?

Eric Duckman:
You're finished, King Chicken! Washed up! Don't be surprised if MTV Unplugged calls you!

Eric Duckman:
All right, Chicken! Prepare to meet your Colonel!

Ajax:
You know, Dad, I think you're my favorite dad.

Eric Duckman:
Only.

Ajax:
Only what?

Eric Duckman:
Only dad.

Ajax:
Only dad what?

Cornfed Pig:
Sometimes during an electrical storm, I can see in five dimensions.

[Duckman, Bernice, Charles and Mambo stare at him]

Cornfed Pig:
Why are the sixty of you staring at me like that?

Cornfed Pig:
Norman Rockwell, on acid.

George Herbert Walker 'King' Chicken:
There is no Littlefield School. The students, professors, all animatrons. Robots.

Eric Duckman:
Even Deanna, that lovely coed?

George Herbert Walker 'King' Chicken:
Nope. I've never been able to make breasts. She's a Muppet.

Eric Duckman:
Ohh. To be Frank Oz for a day.

Deanna:
I'm Deanna. What's your name?

Eric Duckman:
Duckman. As in Dr. Duckman. Ph.D., loveology. Why don't you stay after class so I can grade on your curves?

[Bernice slaps him]

Bernice:
You're despicable. You've got kidney stones older than her.

[Duckman's body is growing as a result of a glandular problem]

Eric Duckman:
Doctor, something's wrong. I'm growing.

Dr. Ben Stein:
They're called *erections*, Duckman. They happen all the time.

Eric Duckman:
I can't believe they towed my car! And only because it was parked in a tow-away zone and I had $1,200 worth of unpaid parking tickets.

Cornfed Pig:
Also, you stole it.

Eric Duckman:
It was dark. How was I supposed to tell the difference between a parking lot at the mall and a Mazda dealership?

Ajax:
Dixie cups Rule. Dixie Cups Rock. Please don't crush my head with your free cinder block.

Big Jack McBastard:
There she is - Hell's Toilet. The days are hot enough to boil your brain, and the nights are colder than David Caruso's film career.

[Duckman, Cornfed and Bev shudder]

[last lines]

Leonard Nimoy:
That's the last time I have a headcheese hoagie before bedtime.

Khan Chicken:
Dwaaahh!

Eric Duckman:
Hey, get your own wacky scream.

Robert Smith Jr.:
Khan Mitchell, you magnificent space bastard!

Eric Duckman:
Is he dead?

Art 'Bones' McSalvo:
Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor, not a rodeo clown! [pause, as everyone stares at him]

Art 'Bones' McSalvo:
Well, I'm not a rodeo clown.

Eric Duckman:
Who's Jim?

Art 'Bones' McSalvo:
FINE! HAVE IT YOUR WAY! I'M A RODEO CLOWN! AND YOU'RE NOT JIM!