All language subtitles for Duckman - 2x07 - In the Nam of the Father-ing

(squealing)

(whistling)

(screaming)

What the hell
are you staring at?

Someone who sublimates
his seething resentment

of a society-imposed celibacy

by wearing offensive
and morally bankrupt clothing.

Oh, so, you like
the new jacket?

They threw in a pair
of spotted underpants.

Don't you mean spotted
owl underpants?

Hey, like I suddnely care
about brand names.

And, by the way,
if you're hinting

at some kind of politically
incorrect insensitivity here--

I'll have you know that
all these seals

died of natural causes--
brain hemorrhages or something.

You realize, of course,

those seals
were somebody's children.

Corny, if there's one piece
of advice I can give you,
it's this--

Never order buttery topping

after ticking off
the popcorn vendor

at a movie theater.

Oh. Right.

Well, speaking of children,

did I tell you mine are
demanding a vacation now?

Hard to believe, isn't it?

Like every day with me
isn't vacation enough?

Hmm... some kilbasa.

From Easter, I believe.

Mr. Duckman,
a vacation is

the perfect opportunity
to get away

from your everyday
worries and troubles.

In fact, Fluffy and I
were thinking

about asking
for one ourselves.

We've worked 11 years

without a vacation.

11 long years.

Oh, my heavens.

Do allow me to apologize
for this unthinkable oversight

by offering you
an all-expense-paid trip

to one of the world's
most popular hot spots--

BOTH:
Oh!

As I was saying, Corny,
you should thank

your lucky stars
you don't have any kids.

Dad...

Who are you

and why are you squeezing
the pleats out of my pants?

My name is Ng.
You are my father.

"Ng," huh?

How do you
spell that?
N-G.

What a pretty "nm."
You live, on "mn" street?

Here. Go buy
yourself a vowel.

I'm sorry, Ng. As much
as the prospect intrigues me,

I couldn't possibly
be your father.

Of course he couldn't!

Up until he took
a couple of boob-a-licious twins

back to their place last year
for a little (squeaking)

he'd never, you know,
pickled the old herring.

To be honest,
I still haven't.
What?

What happened
with the twins?

I fainted when they
took off their sneakers.

NG:
You mean...

I've traveled
all this way

just to find out
you're not my father?

Wait a minute... the war.

(explosions and gunfire)

There was someone.

The details are fuzzy

but I remember
a woman named Mai Lin

whose sole desire
was to pleasure me

in unspeakable and
often degrading ways

using mah-jongg tiles

and a strange
vibrating bamboo device.

Mai Lin...
that's my mother.

Did I mention she
was a fine cook?

Well, Ng-man,
Ng-erewski, the Ng-meister...

welcome to the clan.

Go into the back room.

Inside my
monogrammed enema bag

there's 12 bucks,
a fake mustache,

and a Saudi
Arabian passport.

Take them and
start a new life.

Duckman, I don't think
you understand what this means.

Ng is my progeny,
my family, my litter.

You can't just throw
away your litter.

Well, you know what I mean.

I finally have someone
to carry on my name.

I'm a father, Duckman.

This is the happiest
moment of my life.

Come on, son.

We've got some
catching up to do.

Oh, it is kind of nice
for the little guy.

He should get a chance
at it, too.

After all, in the end,
there isn't anything

like the happiness you get
from being part of a family.

It's not fair!

We want to go!

We deserve
a vacation!

Duckman, you promised
your kids last year

you'd take them
on vacation.

And, kids, what did I tell you
about promises?

ALL:
They don't count
for family, friends

and other people
who won't hurt you.

But I want to go
on vacation.

I'd love to take a vacation,
but they're just too expensive.

Maybe we could visit that place
by the train tracks

with the burnt tires
and smoldering oil drums.

That's our backyard, dear.

The idea would be to get away.

Oh.

Sorry I didn't knock.

The neighbors had opened your
front door so they could hear

your argument better.

They do take an interest.

Last week, they helped
us paint our house.

Dad, they sprayed
"get out" on our
living room window.

Whatever. It's the thought
that counts, son.

Be that as it may,
I have an annoucement to make:

Though I just spent
the best day of my life

with a boy who claims
to be my son,

deep down inside burns
a desire to learn the truth.

Therefore,
as painful as it might be,

I've decided
to go back to his country

and find little Ng's mother,
in order to determine

whether or not
I'm his real father.

It's the most important
journey I've ever made

and because I may need
the moral support

of my best friend and partner

I'm here to ask you to
come with me, Duckman.

Gee, I've got
this thing.

Besides, don't you think
it's a tad selfish

to ask me to risk my life

by trekking through
unknown horrors

in the wartorn jungles

of a possibly still
anti-American country?

I'll spring
for the airfare.

Then again, I could use a tan.
Wait a minute.

Free airfare,
two-dollar hotels...

pack your bags, kids.

We are going on vacation!

(all cheering)

Uh, Duckman, I wasn't planning
on paying for all of you.

Of course you weren't.

I wouldn't ask you
to do that.

We'll leave Grandma-ma
with a neighbor.

(farting)

CORNFED:
Strange...

last time I made this trip,
it was as a young man

naively certain I was doing
my duty for a country

that neither believed in the war

nor would appreciate
my efforts when I returned.

DUCKMAN:
Inconceivable!

An unconscionable travesty!

There's, like,
two peanuts in here.

Anyway,
it would all be worth it

if it meant having something
as special as a son.

Uncle Corny, did you win
any medals in the war?

One or two.

Excuse me, but I happen
to be a war hero, too.

You? Hah!

You couldn't get into
the Salvation Army.

(laughing)

Fine. Laugh if you will,

but if I wasn't in the war,
where did I get this?

From the table dancer
who didn't like where you

tried sliding
your credit card.

Okay. Then explain this.

Mmm... ravioli.

All right, all right.

What about this?

(all gasping)

Aha!

A souvenir of war,
my friends

and I remember
exactly how I got it.

So these are the dank,
guerilla-infested jungles

of Southeast Asia.

No, this is
still the plane.

I couldn't stir up any memories.

But I know I was there--
why can't I remember?

Sometimes when you experience

something grotesque
and horrifying,

your brain works
to repress it.

(screams):
Who are you?

(laughing)

I see what you mean.

("Flight of the Valkyries"
playing)

That music...
I've heard it before.

(reveille playing)

(snoring)

(screaming)

(grunting)

(as Marlon Brando):
You have no right to judge me.

You have the right to kill me,
but you've no right to judge me.

No, wait. Reverse that.

Judge me. Don't kill me.

Yeah, that seems better.

For no man is an island,

though some are roughly
the same size as one.

I coulda been somebody.

I coulda been a contender...

Senator Corleone,
Governor Corleone.

Props, we need more butter.

General Zod,
Krypton will be destroyed.

Right.

Well, you've obviously got a lot
of psychotic ranting to do.

I'll just get out
of your hair... uh, scalp.

(screaming)

No! Come back, Wally.

We'll make fudge.

Why am I here
rambling incoherently?

The money...

the money...

the money...

(yelling)

Wake up, you cretin!
We're here!

Okay, okay, I'm awake!

I know.

But the dream--
it was so real,

like something
is starting

to come back to me.

Who gives a
hamster's hind end?

Let's go, kids, and remember
not to leave anything.

Before
you climb down,

I want you to know

when I step
off this plane

things may get
emotional for me

but it helps to know
that you'll be by my side

every step of the way.

Look, they're going

to Euro-Asia Land!

(cheering)

Euro-Asia Land,
here we come!

Or I could meet up with you
when I stop bleeding.

* Can't seem to get
my mind off of you *

* back here at home
with nothing to do *

* I see I'm strong *

* And I'm not so strong *

* I should have known
all along *

* That time would tell *

* Whole week without you *

* Thought I'd forget *

* Two weeks without you *

* And I still haven't
gotten over you yet *

* Vacation, all I ever wanted *

* Vacation, had to get away *

* Vacation's meant
to be spent alone *

* Vacation, all I ever wanted *

* Vacation, had to get away *

* Vacation's meant
to be spent alone... *

Remember, kids,
we're goodwill ambassadors.

Let's represent our country
with pride.

Hey, rickshaw,
let's spring roll

into action!

My egg foo young'uns and me
need a ride-- chop, chop!

What is this, the
Year of the Snail?

I found it.
I found her address.

I went to pick up a suit

I left at a local dry cleaners
during the war

and her address
was in the pocket.

She lives at
84 Charlie Mopic-- or did.

I've never been
so nervous in my life, Duckman,

but I have a good
feeling about this.

I just hope Ng is having fun
getting to know his new home.

And this
is Uncle Stuffy

the day he got caught
in the lint trap.

AJAX:
Dad, I'm hungry.

I haven't eaten anything

since those rancid brownies
I found in the cow pasture.

It's not your
father's fault, Ajax.

His decision
to forgo the map

and get us there
on gut instinct,

thereby rendering
us lost,

was perfectly
understandable.

But I'm thirsty.

And I have to pee.

Well, that works out
perfectly, doesn't it?

Ew!
Ew!

(chuckles,
then grunts)

Hey, Dad,
that sign says "Camp."

No, Ajax, it says...

Oh. Actually

it does say camp.

Sorry.
Force of habit.

Come on.

BERNICE:
This place makes
my flesh crawl.

Look, that guy's
in chains and shackles.

Don't knock it
till you've tried it, son.

Wait a minute.

That headband.

(gun clicks,
people gasp)

Uh... me? Already?

Well, I'm up for a new game.

Uh, a little
parcheesi maybe?

Granted, it lacks
the riveting tension

of imminent death,
but the cleanup's easier.

(yelling)

Any chance that meant
"Lose your turn"?

(yelling)

Mao, babe,
how about lunch?

Click!

(gunshot)

(glass tinkling)

I didn't mean to!
I didn't mean to!

(Duckman shrieks)

I'm having flashbacks
from the war!

But why?
What's happening to me?

I must have been traumatized.

Something terrible
must have happened in the war

but I can't remember!

Why can't I remember?

(screaming)

Ironic-- each of us
on his own mission

one paralleling
and contrasting the other,

both desperate attempts
to retrieve

lost memories of the war.

While I need to come to terms

with the possibility
of a future

with a son I've never known,

Duckman is driven
to resolve the past

and each must find his answer
in the present,

thus forming the kind of
wonderful literary construction

that would be at home
in a great novel.

And to think-- Entertainment
Weekly panned us.

Stay tuned.

There might even be
a few clever plot twists left.

(yelling)

Told you.

CORNFED:
We seem to be trapped

in one of the merciless
torture-based P.O.W. camps

that our government says
no longer exist.

What a relief.
I've got to get us out.

I've got to get to Mai Lin
and find out the truth
about my son.

(Duckman screaming)

This place is making
the flashbacks come again.

But it's worse now.

They're taking over,

reducing me to a quivering,
helpless heap of Jell-o.

And we'll be able
to tell the difference

from before how exactly?

I feel them coming on.

Please!
Can't somebody do something?

(explosions,
automatic gunfire)

You can't go back in, Private!

You'll never make it!

(as Forrest Gump):
I got to, Lieutenant.

Some things are just too
important to leave behind.

(groaning)

It's bad, Bubba.
It's pretty bad.

You're my best friend, Bubba.

I've never had
a best friend before.

'Specially one who wants to go

into the shrimpin'
business with me after the war.

I'd do anything in the world
to save your life,

except I can only carry
one of you.

Oh, well, Mama always said

"Horny is as horny does."

Okay, Sarge!

I finished unclogging
the septic tank, Sarge!

(screaming):
No! Please!

Beat me, starve me, kill me

but don't give me
the Cronauer torture!

(as Robin Williams):
Good morning, Duckman!

Time to rock it
from the Delta to the DMZ.

And do schtick
that's supposed to be improv

but it's actually just
the same stuff I always do.

People, people, work with me.
Happy-time, Cong.

Just 'cause you're Red,
don't be blue.

Oh, I love what you are doing
with your hair-- sort of bangs.

You walking in, but your hair
is waving good-bye.

This one's for you--

a little something
I call "Viva Da Nang."

Thank you very much.

(as Gomer Pyle):
Well, gollee!

Surprise, surprise, surprise!

* We represent
the peacekeeping force *

* The peacekeeping force,
the peacekeeping force... *

That's enough!

I'll tell you anything!

Just stop now!

Everybody down.

It's a chopper.

We're under attack!

What's going on?

While you were dissolving
into a puddle of goo,

I fashioned a crude helicopter
using an old blow-dryer motor

some palm fronds,
and a few rubber bands

I found lying around
the cell.

Let's go.

(machine gun cocks)

(screaming)

Got to see my boy again.

Thank you, Nordic Track.

(yells)

This is for you, son.

We love you, Cornfed!

Yippee!

Whoa, you're awesome.

(screaming)

Cut!

What the hell's going on?

You've destroyed my set

you idiot, you moron,

you pint-sized pile
of bacon grease.

What do you have to
say for yourself?

I'm rubber and you're glue.

DIRECTOR:
A movie set is sacred,
hallowed ground

and on that set
a director is God.

My people would die for me--
which, of course, is required,

since I insist
on complete authenticity

by using real, live ammunition.

What better way to denounce

war's senseless violence
and killing

than to project the real thing
onto a 40-foot screen

in all of its splendor
and glory?

Ooh, it's time
to gaze at my reflection.

Wait a minute!

A movie set.

It's coming back to me--

the trauma--
the thing I couldn't remember.

It was dark.
Soldiers everywhere.

We must have been stationed

right in the heart
of the action.

(applause and cheering)

Ten-hut.
Listen up, everyone.

I, Duckman,
projectionist extraordinaire,

have procured a special treat.

WOMAN:
Maybe I can "cock your gun,"
Rambone.

Oh, my God.

What's going on here?

Let's get him, girls.

No! Don't hurt me!

Please! I bruise easily.

Let me get
this straight.

Your trauma
is that you were

a National Guard
projectionist

and you were beaten up
by female officers

'cause you showed
a porno film?

(laughs hysterically)

What about the flashbacks?

P.S.A.W.F.T.S.--

Post-Southeast-Asia-
War-Film-Trauma Syndrome.

I don't know
why I didn't think of it before.

He was flashing back to scenes
from the 60-odd movies

he's seen on the subject.

Wow. And the scar?

Probably where
the film chafed me.

Hey, this is great.

Now I can put this
whole thing behind me

and get on with my life.

Not so fast.

Who's to say that the mere
mention of a war movie

won't send you
into violent flashbacks?

That's ridiculous, Bernice.
I'm cured.

Hamburger Hill.

(screaming)

I knew this would
come in handy some day.

I'm glad Duckman solved...

I mean,
"is dealing with" his problem

but I don't think
I will ever find Mai Lin.

Cornfed?

Mai Lin, is
it really you?

What are you doing here?

I'm a consultant
on this movie.

It's about the most emotional

heart-wrenching period
of my life.

And, if it's a hit,
I get 12 gross points

and a piece of
the merchandising.

Am I in it?

Of course, Cornfed.

(as Cornfed):
Heidy-ho.

Not bad,

though he fails to fully
capture my Ozark twang.

Mai Lin, I don't quite know
how to ask you this.

I'm not very good
at being direct on this subject.

When we knew each other,
did we...

do the do?
Net the nasty?

Join loins?

Dance the
horizontal hora?

The wicked waltz?
The naked two-step?

Pump pig iron?

Oh, Corny,

you're still a charmer.

But the answer is
no, we didn't.

But a boy came into my office
and said he was my son.

You're the only one
it could possibly
have been with.

I'm sorry, Corny.

Our relationship
was an island

of beauty and culture

and friendship,
in the middle

of all this death
and destruction.

I'll always remember you

but we didn't sleep together.

I don't have a son.

I'm due back.

I'd like a chance to talk
before you go.

Well, did you boff her
or not?

Shut up,

you insensitive worm.

And if I don't?

I'll put you
in a Full Metal Jacket!

In Country!

You'll be a Casualty of War
on Jacob's Ladder

at The Hanoi Hilton
with Bat 21!

Who'll Stop the Rain,
Some Kind of Hero?

(screams):
No!

Ng's not my son.

It was too good
to be true.

I know how much this hurts me.

I can't imagine
how he's gonna feel.

And here's
Grandpa Urectal.

He fathered
33 children

until Grandma
laced his cereal

with fabric softener.

Now that you've met

our blood relatives,

it's time to meet
our extended family.

No!

Stop this torture!
I beg you!

I'll confess.

I'll tell you everything.

My name's not "Ng."

It's Frank Nolan.

I steal pictures
and run cons on pigs.

I'm just a scammer
who uses their credit cards

to finance my way
through dance school.

Please, take me to prison--
anything!

Just don't make me listen
to any more!

(gasps)

(car horn beeps,
then a thud)

I fought in one of history's
most devastating wars.

Lives were lost,
homes were destroyed

but one ember
suddenly glowed

in the wake
of all that destruction.

In the end, it's always
about families being torn apart.

I thought it'd be nice

if, just once, a family
was created out of war.

For a fleeting moment,
I knew what it was like

to have a son
to call my own.

I hope he knows no father
could have loved him more.

I hope I get another chance
to have a family.

I'm sorry, Cornfed.

I know how you must feel

but, always remember,
you do have a family.

You have us.

(screaming)

Want some of the raisins

I found in that chicken coop,
Uncle Cornfed?

(screaming continues)

Mai Lin, wait!
We could start a family now.

It's not too late.

Mai Lin, please?

It'll only take a minute--
literally.

Mai Lin,
think of what a child will do

for your movie's demographics!