All language subtitles for Duckman - 2x06 - The Germ Turns-ing

(whistles)

(quacks)

This is amazing, children.

To actually discover
an ancient healing crystal

in our own backyard.

Zut alors!

11 identical brothers

and a horrible satanic beast

are trapped inside
its shimmering surface.

Ajax, that's you,
and there's no satanic beast.

Shh!

Come on, kids, I can't wait
to have this analyzed

at the New Age Fair today.

Ready to go?

ALL:
Yeah!

Travel checklist. Map?

Ajax's car sickness bag?

And it's still
a few drops

from capacity.

Grandma-ma's life-check mirror?

(passing gas)

ALL:
She lives!

Okay, one last, teeny-tiny

almost-too-insignificant-
to-mention thing. Duckman!

I guess none of you heard
about the president's

hang-from-a-ceiling-fan-
for-peace program.

Look, Bernice, I have better
things to do with my time

than spend it
at some New Age Fair

with a bunch
of mindless circus freaks.

If you prefer, Dad, we could
walk a few steps behind you.

Not you, son.

I'm talking about the other
mindless circus freaks.

Ah!

This whole new age thing is just

a bunch of mantra-chanting,
incense-breathing,

herb-sucking yahoos.
Whoa!

It's all right, Connie.
Maury won't be home for hours.

For your information,

new-agers are amongst the few

brave enough to explore
alternative mind states

and discover past lives.

This, for instance,
could have belonged

to the mighty
warrior-king Ramtha

who ruled Atlantis when I,
as his queen, lay at his feet,

looking up at his hard,
chiseled torso

while he thrust his staff
proudly into the air.

Yuck!

I haven't been
this nauseated

since the last
Harvey Keitel nude scene.

Here...

I always say,
if you rub something

and nothing happens,
it's worthless.

Charles, Mandingo.

Mambo.

Whatever. I can't believe you're
buying this cosmic cow plop.

Actually, we're
of two minds.

(both laughing)

On the one hand,
we're reluctant

to shed our cold,
scientific bias.

On the other hand, even we
can't explain the miracles

that we've come across in the
three hours since we dug it up.

Like this bush that burns,
but doesn't consume itself.

I must have snuffed out
my cigarette there. Next!

There's a movie
on USA tonight

that doesn't have the word
"murder" in the title.

Happens twice a year. Next!

What about all the new friends
Gecko made

after we took the crystal

down the block to
the pet cemetery?

Duckman, it's time
you took an interest

in your children's
interests.

Besides, I need someone
to clean up after Ajax

if he vomits on the
escalator again.

It wouldn't be so bad

if they had
one of those nonelectric ones.

You mean a staircase?

It seems like they have names
for everything now.

MAN (on P.A.):
The white zone is for
the channeling and unchanneling

of Aztec deities only.

How much, moonbeam?

We believe that
inflexible quantifications

are demeaning
to the human spirit.

The amount of your donation
is set according to your aura.

Oh, well, I-I don't usually have
this aura.

I was in a hurry this morning.
I may have missed the genitalia.

Your aura is a mystic reflection
of your soul, okay?

The essence of what
is inside you.

(screaming)

All right, it's free.

Boys, why don't you run off
and get the crystal analyzed.

We'll meet over there

at the Tut 2000
meditation pyramid.

Look, Grandma-ma.

Beauty secrets of
the ancient Egyptians.

Wonder if they've
got anything

that can improve
my Nefertitis.

(passing gas)

(Bernice giggling)

Oh, how refreshing.

Mmm, what
a wonderful scent.

Must have some.

Ooh, ee, ooh, ah, ow.

Wonder where a duck
can get a dog around here.

Sholem aleichem.

I'll have the dried twigs
and swamp moss

on a sesame seed bun.

I eat only macrobiotic foods.

That's why, although
I'm 108 years old,

I still have the bouncy demeanor
of a high school cheerleader.

Hot pizza.

Eee!

DUCKMAN:
Hallelujah!

(screams)

(blows landing)

A dozen pardons, mein swami.

I have traveled many days
over hot sand

and salty-tasting
camel droppings

to hear a tiny syllable
of your wisdom.

And, while I'm at it,
how about a slice?

Hell,
take the whole thing.

I got an ulcer sounds like
a Moscow department store

during a toilet paper sale.

Mort Sidelman.

You're a sport, Mort.
Name's Duckman.

You, uh, don't seem to be

fishing out of the
same stream of consciousness

as the rest
of these rubberheads.

What do I know
from enlightened?

I sign a 20-year lease
on this booth

and they relocate
the auto show to Boise.

But what the hey?
With reincarnation,

I figure I'll get
a lot of repeat customers.

(chuckling)

"Reincarnation."

They come back.

I'm still reading
the instruction manual,

but it seems the skinny is
no one really dies.

Yeah? Well, I could have
sworn I buried Mom

right down the street
at Plots-R-Us.

According to this,
she's still kicking.

I wouldn't doubt it.

I told those bozos
to check for a pulse.

You know, you tell 'em
you got a styrofoam casket

and a hooker doing makeup,
they think they can cut corners.

No, what it's saying is,
she's been reincarnated--

come back to earth
in another body.

We might even be able
to talk to her.

World's first electronic
channeling machine.

Let's fire it up
and see what happens.

You got a photo of
your loved one?

Yeah, but it's
all sticky. I...

Oh, Ma.

Ying-yang, yang-yin.

Bring forth the broad
with the double chin.

It says here she might come back
as a whole other life-form.

Hope you got some way
to recognize her.

What the hell are you
staring at?

Mommy, it's really you!

You're alive, but you
look different somehow.

What is it?
You lost weight?

Changed your hair?
Trimmed your eyebrows?

I'm a highly infectious germ.

That's it. Wow, I can't
believe you're really here.

I thought it was
some kind of trick,

like the time you told me
my bath was ready

then had the whole bridge club

wait behind the door
with cameras.

But we could reminisce
all day.

Tell me how you been.
Catch me up!

We have so much to talk about.

First things first.

Who are you?

(laughing)

Oh, I'm teasing.

I know exactly who you are.

Wait. Don't tell me.

You were always around my house.

I remember.

Dust Mop.

Duckman.

Whatever.

When you don't spend
a lot of time at home,

names of things
tend to run together.

What happened, Mom?

I mean, why are you a,
you know, a...?

Diseased-wielding parasite?

Karma.

Which is not
to say

I don't like
being a germ.

I still go
to all the best parties,

the only difference is

now I'm there
to make people violently ill.

(chuckles weakly)

I don't understand
why this happened.

You were a good person.

What about all the things
you did for me?

Why, I remember them as clearly
as if I were having a flashback.

I'm home, Mom.

Is that you, Dish Rag?

Duckman.

Whatever.
Isn't there something

you're usually doing
around this time of day?

I go to school, Mom, but
I couldn't stay there.

They're mean to me.

They threw basketballs
at me in gym class,

pianos in music class,
battery acid in shop!

When did the school
get a piano?

Everyone hates me.

I get beat up
and made fun of every day.

But you haven't lost
your favorite earrings

on the afternoon
of the spring soiree, have you?

Well, I'm off
to the embassy.

I'm fairly certain I
called the baby-sitter.

The party lasts
through the weekend.

Then I'll just be taking

an eensy-weensy trip
around the world.

Ciao.

So you periodically
abandoned me,

skipped my graduation
and wedding,

missed the births
of all your grandchildren

and couldn't postpone
the lambada cruise

when I got hit by that bus

and hovered on the brink
of death for three months.

I never blamed you.

It isn't easy raising a child

while you're ambassador
to Luxembourg.

Oh, I forgot to tell you.
That was a lie.

I spent a lot of time

at the embassy,

but it was because they liked
having me at their parties.

I was, you know... fun.

Anyway, the cosmic pooh-bah
decided I should be punished

and here I am.

Ooh, my massage.

You'd think
becoming an invertebrate

would have helped my lower back.
Oh, well.

Good seeing you again,
Dart Board.

Duckman.

Whatever.

Toodle-oo.

That was her.

That was my mom.

The woman who used to nurse me
and rock me to sleep.

Well, once.

It isn't fair. She
deserves better than that.

Not according to the manual.

It's very clear
about getting demoted

if you neglect your kids.

Wait a minute. I do that.

That means I could end up
that way or worse!

What's lower than germ?

Slug, maggot, La Toya.

You're young enough,
though.

You still got time
to rack up a few points

on the old cosmic
scoreboard.

Well, at least I can try.

I mean, I am young.
I do have time to change.

It's not like I'm gonna die
in the next five seconds.

(yelps)

(car horns honking)

I'm sorry yesterday's analysis
proved inconclusive.

Us, too. Apparently, it's
either a mystic talisman

offering a gateway
to alternate realities...

Or debris from a failed
1970s amusement park

called Liberace Land.

Oh, well, Who wants
liver and whey muffins?

My colon votes a hearty yes.

(gasps)

(explosion)

Rise and shine-ola,
progeny of mine!

Belly up to the breakfast bar

courtesy
of your ever-loving dad.

Turkey-gravy doughnuts.

Graham cracker
and Mallomar pancakes.

And I highly recommend
the fudge-ripple churros--

98.5% pure saturated fat.

Whoa. It's a festival

of partially hydrogenated
potassium lactylate.

I have no idea how I know that.

Plus, I got you
video games, pogs,

sizzling CDs by some
of today's hottest

and most sociopathic
rap stars

and, to top it off, rare,
rookie season baseball cards

featuring each of your
favorite players.

Why do I picture
an eight-year-old card collector

tied up in a closet somewhere?

Bernice, please. Can't a father
dote on his children

without raising a few
overly penciled eyebrows?

Just knowing my love
is recognized by them--

and any all-powerful being
who happens to be looking in--

makes my heart
burst with pride.

If they eat that binge bilge,

their hearts will burst
with thrombosis!

Just so they die happy.

The fact is, from now on,
I'm committed to devoting

all my time and effort
to my children,

doing everything I
can to give them

the kind of parenting
every child deserves.

Hey, Dad, are there any more
of these tequila truffles?

(burps loudly)

Back, you animals.

I don't want to have
to tell you again.

I've got hollow-points.

(knocking)

BOTH:
Dad?

Uh, Miss Pudnugget,

a word, if you please.

Okay. How about
"available"?

(chuckles):
That's very funny.

What's not funny
is this wildlife photography

of a certain firm but pliant
school mistress hitting the hay

with a more than willing
Mr. Cow.

If you get my drift.

Now, if you'll guarantee
Charles and Simba...

Mambo.

Whatever.

...a big, juicy "A"
in your class,

I'll make sure these bossy
glossies don't make it

into the "Dairy Deviates" column
in your high school paper.

Mr. Duckman,
these photographs are fakes.

Fakes?! Are you questioning
my integrity as a blackmailer?

Well, yes.

First off, my cow's bigger.

Second, a photo of my head

has been crudely pasted
over someone else's body.

(chuckles): My wife's been dead
for a number of years now and...

Look, man to battle-ax:

Either Charles and Mambo
get an "A", or I hurt you.

Oh, I have a better idea.

I give them an "A",
and you hurt me.

(laughing)

Tee-hee.

Oh, dear, I can't
keep up this ruse.

The truth is, Charles
and Mambo already get As.

I'm just angling for
a little booty boogaloo.

You already get As?

Ah, never mind.

Boys, don't forget.
After school, I'm taking you

to the mall for
new underwear.

Then it's off to
the hemorrhoid doctor

for that bleaching
you've needed for so long.

If you're good,
you'll get lollies.

(groaning)

Uh, Mr. Duckman,

I'll just hold
onto the picture

till tonight,
say 7:00-ish by the barn?

I'll bring
my milking machine.

(purring)

(screaming)

(crowd cheering)

Hop off the
bench, Ajax.

No son of mine is going
to get seat splinters.

Oh, Coach, a word.

Here's a 50.

Nod like I'm
browbeating you.

Then put the kid in.

Raw talent like his
can't go unpeeled!

I demand that you put Ajax--

or, as we call him
around the house, Bronco--

into this game at once.

Just show 'em who's boss, son.

I know they're bigger and
stronger and better than you,

but you've got something
more important on your side.

Weapons?

Psychology.

We'll throw them off
their game.

I agree with you, Ajax!

Those other players are
a bunch of brainless,

knuckle-dragging bohunks
who get over-excited

about showering together

because they were
emotionally shattered

when they found out their
mothers do it for doughnuts!

Well put, son!

(players growling)

The good news is,

thanks to certain non-FDA
approved medications,

I'll be all better tomorrow.

The bad news is, that's when
the football team told me

they're coming by
to beat me up again.

Dad got the glee club
to perform a tribute to us.

Then he bribed
the other kids

to elect us
homecoming king.

And queen!

It's humiliating.

Hello, beloved brood.

Grab a mitt and wheel
Ajax out in the yard.

It's time to play ball.

BERNICE:
Have you flipped
your flap?!

It's pitch
black outside.

Mais non, mon petite hag-ola.
Voila!

What do you think, kids?
Woo-hoo!

We're gonna play baseball

every night, all night,
for the rest of our lives!

(honking)

Hit some fungoes
till I get back!

DUCKMAN:
Another 24 straight hours
of being together, boys,

because no dad of yours
is going to end up

in some med student's
petri dish, not that that

has anything to do
with my almost maniacal campaign

to have you
worshiped like gods.

What the hell... I mean,
what is it I can do

for you two soft
and cuddly delights?

Well, we heard you've been

loving and attentive
with your sons

and we knew there was only
one possible explanation.

You're on drugs.

What?!

Mr. Duckman,

we feel
it's our civic duty

to administer a urine test.

Are you crazy?!

I don't whiz in anything
I can't sit on or swim in.

Wait. On second thought,
maybe you're right.

(toilet flushing)

FLUFFY and URANUS:
Oh, Mr. Duckman...!

(burbling)

Clean as a whistle.

So, let's go see Corny.

And remember: I haven't
been in for a week.

Don't be surprised if
it's as quiet as a party

after you get everyone
to de-pants your date

and she turns out
to be a transvestite.

What? It's a metaphor.

(phones ringing)

I'll have your case solved
by 6:00.

(speaking German) by 7:00.

(ululating) by 8:00.

What? I already found
your father-in-law.

He'll be back by 9:00.

Go on home.

You got to do it
sometime.

Oh. Uh... hi.

Completely, coincidental with
your absence from the office,

there was a mysterious
upsurge in activity.

Probably sun spots.

What's important now is,

I'm bonding
with my boys, Corny.

I got 'em inked in for 18 hours
of quality time a day

and I think it's safe to say

things are pretty
hunky-dory at Casa Duckman.

(chuckles):
Kids and their cute
little death games.

I know nothing of
your current situation,

being shamefully under-used in
this week's wacky adventure,

but you might want to rethink
what you're doing.

Insincere attempts
to win a child's affection

can cause his self-esteem
to plummet

until he drops out of school,

has his vocal chords loosened
to affect a deeper voice,

then ends up being
the only pig cage dancer

in a waterfront leather bar...

or so I'm told.

(door slams)

J'accuse, Duckman!

This morning a hurricane
destroyed our whole block.

Luckily, they've rebuilt
all the houses

exactly as they were before,

but the wind opened all your
mail, and I found this bill

for talking to your mother
through an electronic channeler!

That's right! And don't try
to tell me it wasn't her--

that image had her voice, her
laugh, her amorphous blue shape.

I'm telling ya,
I talked to her

and I'd prove it if I could
find the guy who did it,

but the fair's over.
I have no idea where he is.

Mort Sidelman, 126 Elm Street.

New Age Yellow Pages.

BERNICE:
Look, Mort,

you got two minutes to cough up
his phlegm-ball of a mother,

or I'm turning you in
to the Consumer Affairs Division

of the Department
of Touchy-Feely Fake Religions.

All right, all right,
come with me.

I wonder how many towns
she had to pillage
to come back as that.

So, you got the photo?

(whirring)

Fly in the cosmic
ointment, Swami Mort?

It's probably just a loose wire.

The only thing loose around here
is the screw in your head.

Oh, yeah?

What about that hunk of flesh
around your mid-section?

(growls)

(gasps)

Help!

(heart beating)

(yells)

Mom!

Diaper Bag.

It's Duckman...
Oh, the hell with it.

It's not like anything I say
matters to you!

Oh, sorry. Sorry, Mom.

I-I don't know
where that came from,

except that...
well, it's just that...

when you think about it,

you never did
pay much attention

to anything
I said or did.

I mean... well, never mind.

I'm sorry.

Don't be sorry.

I'm sorry.

That's why I ended up like this.

I was too wrapped up
in my own life

to make any time for you.

You remember all those uncles

who used to stay overnight

and make all those
screaming noises?

I told you it was
just them cheering

for their favorite
baseball team on TV?

Well, they weren't really
your uncles

and there's no such team
as the "Do-Me-Babies."

Look, I... I always liked men.

I like sex.

I hope that doesn't

embarrass you.

I think liking sex
is a healthy thing.

A plus, some would say,
if you're a microorganism.

We multiply like crazy.

Unfortunately, we have
to do it with ourselves.

Anyway...

the truth is,

after your father died,
I was lonely.

I missed him--
talking to him, touching him...

so I found replacements.

I went to parties,
I met other men.

I didn't realize
till it was too late

that I...
I took away your mother.

I messed up.

I just hope, in time, you can
find a way to forgive me.

(moaning)

Geez!

I thought death would be
a little more stable.

Mom, what happened?

You're a...
you're a snail.

I am?

It's instant karma--
I've heard of this.

They give you a promotion if you
do something to deserve it,

like accepting the fact
that you've made mistakes.

Of course, wherever I go,

I'll still leave
a trail of slime behind.

Yeah. Well, me, too.

What do you mean?

My kids--
I'm missing their lives, too.

Hey, do you have a picture?

I mean, they are
my grandchildren.

I should have a picture.

Oh, they're beautiful.

Oh... it's what we do.

Mom...

I love you.

I love you, too...

Duckman.

Wait!

Not yet...!

(grunts)

I saw her!
Did you see her?

I saw my mother again.

At first, she was a germ,
but then she was a snail

and we talked
and she said she loved me,

and she ate a picture,

and she's happy,
and I'm happy, too!

Told ya-- 100% legit.

More likely, Duckman
received a blow

on the anterior lobe
of his cerebral cortex,

producing a dream state
into which he projected

guilts, fantasies
and desires,

allowing him to see
what he wanted to see.

Blather on,
Sigmund Hog.

All I know is, my mom's okay
and she told me she loves me.

Could it perhaps be another
crystal-induced miracle?

That's right.
Maybe the crystal

helped Dad feel better
about his mom.

Maybeit is
a healing crystal.

Kids, it's time to change.

And this time,
for all the right reasons.

From now on, I am the sun,

and you are the planets
I warm and nourish.

There's only so many moments
we'll have together.

And I say we make
the most of them.

You want to go
to the park together?

Sure.
Yeah.

That'd be great, Dad.

I'll go clean the crumbs off
the back seat of the car first,

because that way, your ride
will be more comfortable.

I'm not sure
I can live like this.

First chance we get,

let's hit him with a
sack of doorknobs.

Or a tire iron.

Yeah.

Well, maybe a crowbar.

Good idea.