Duckman...
Duck...
Sorry, Corny, I thought you were Bernice.
Hey-hey, completely dry.
I am in control.
That's a good omen for tonight's poker game.
Did you bring the stuff?
New clothes, aftershave, a comb...
the hair doodad with the spikes.
Duckman, was your calling and asking me
to sneak these things in through the window
part of a sleazy scheme?
Yowza!
Come here, I'll show you.
Corny, if we're having the game here tonight,
this duck's got to put on the dog
to impress a lady.
You're trying to impress Bernice?
No, not Bernice... that girl.
Anotheridentical sister?
To suddenly discover the existence of a twin sibling--
can you imagine how Bernice feels?
Probably like old cheese, but let's stay focused, okay?
Now that Bernice is off being a congresswoman
in our nation's capital, uh... Congressville,
I've got a chance I haven't had since the seventh grade.
To date fifth-grade girls?
Good guess, but no.
I'm in perfect position for
the "lie to the substitute teacher" gambit,
which I mastered under the nom de sub--
"Michael Hunt."
You were the best.
But what does this have to do with Beverly?
Ever since Bernice
crawled out of her tar pit and into my life,
I've been persona non testes.
Now that she's gone,
I will rise from the ashes like a Tucson.
But first, I got to lay down
a heavy dusting of "snow job" on Mount Beverly.
I'll just dazzle her with the famous Duckman charm.
And that charm is famous... where?
You know, frankly, it's that attitude
that's kept you from getting a spinoff.
Now, watch and learn.
(with British accent): 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."
Talk about blank verse.
It's from The Big Book of Psychotic Nonsense."
Ow.
You, I like.
Hi, I'm Bev. I'm Cornfed.
You wear it well.
Hey, what's with William F. Duckley?
"William F. Duckley!"
Ho-ho! Oh, my, you are a treasure.
(laughing): No, no, no, my dear,
this is how I always dress in the A. of M.
All just part of being the Lord of the Manor
allowed to do whatever I want,
whenever I want, anytime I want,
all the time, always.
(chuckles)
Oh... by the way...
tonight, I'm having a few chums over for poker,
but let's not mention it to Bernice.
It would just break her heart if she couldn't be here
to make Rice Krispie squares.
(laughing loudly)
(laughter dying down)
Funny thing.
This is a note from Bernice saying you might try
to con me into breaking her list of house rules.
She calls it her "Duckman don'ts and don'ts."
(crying loudly)
(stops crying)
All right, all right...
you can have your poker game here, okay?
Duckman charm.
Gets them every time.
Well, said charm notwithstanding,
Bernice's rules do seem a tad... fascist,
so let's just put the rules aside,
and I'll treat you like a responsible adult.
(singsongy): I get treated like an adult!
(clearing throat): I... I mean... very well.
All right, so who's playing in this big game?
Only the coolest guy in the world-- Mr. Bob Guccione!
I guess he couldn't resist
my relentless fawning and harassment
because he's coming here tonight!
So, in addition to inviting all my friends-- a.k.a. Corny--
I've also got some big stars coming,
so he'll see the kind of hoi I polloi with.
This is the first time I've had company over the house,
and I'm going to make it the best night of my life!
Well, I hope it's Guccio-tastic.
Yeah, he...
Say, you're not going to start spewing anti- Penthouse
anti-fun, femi-nerd yammajamma, are you?
No, no, not at all.
If I make you give up Penthouse,
then to be consistent,
I've got to give up Playgirl
and, uh, I am not doing that.
No way. Uh-uh.
Nopey, nope, nope, nope.
You know, I-I think I'll just go back to my room
and, um... unpack.
Yeah, I have to do some unpacking.
(Bernice running away, door closes)
(snickering)
Hmm. For a second, that looked like...
Nah... can't be.
(doorbell rings)
(screams)
See? I told you, there is something scary about that door.
Trust me, pure evil is out there, and we gotta hide!
Corny and the boys, grab canned food and bottled water
and get in the basement!
Bev, get some candles and flashlights
and batteries-- all we've got!
Speaking of which, bring those Playgirls, too.
We may be forced to rely on you for crude amusement.
(chuckling)
Oh, this is ridiculous.
What the hell took you morons so long?
You're in here chatting,
I'm out here playing with my yuga.
"Evil" is only mild exaggeration.
This is Mo Dorkin, Duckman's uncle
and only living relative.
Will someone please tell babe here
that I'm not deaf?
I'm very sorry.
We have been rude.
I'm Bev, and as it happens, I'm the long-lost...
Oh, please, go slower.
I want to make this a whole chapter in my diary.
I cannot believe you're here!
I mean, you got big stones, Mo,
I'll give you that!
I hate you and you hate me
and that system's been working out just fine!
So don't take this the wrong way,
you puckered-up old hamster hole,
but get lost!
Still got a way with words, huh?
Well, I got a news flash, yutz.
I'm here and I ain't leaving.
And what's more, you can't throw me out.
Ha! You're crazy!
Maybe, but I'm also dying.
Yes, that's right-- dying.
And soon.
Doc says my heart could go anytime,
and until then, you've got a sacred duty to take me in.
Why?
Because I'm family!
Mo, I'd love to stand around talking with you,
but these last few minutes have reminded me
why I never stand around talking with you.
So good-bye, have a good death
and don't let the big red door hit you on your way into hell.
Well, okay, if that's the way you want it,
I understand.
I'll just go somewhere else.
Good. Nothing brightens a room
like your absence.
Perhaps in the afterlife,
I'll be reunited with Cousin George.
Well, bye now.
Uh, Mo, wait a sec.
We're, uh... we're going to have
a little family conference in the kitchen.
Cornfed here will keep you company
until we get back.
Reading the paper?
No, I'm landing the space shuttle.
Buckle up.
Look at this, I'm talking to trayf.
Shh!
We just redid our genealogy website,
thanks to aunt Beverly.
How many more surprise relatives do we have?
I'm not so much let down as I am disappointed.
He's always been a miserable old jerk,
but now he's got me by the short and yellows, and he knows it.
Why? And who's Cousin George?
He and my Uncle Ted never got along.
When Ted was dying, he asked George to take him in,
but George said no.
So before he died, Ted put a curse on George
and said George would meet certain doom.
And?
And...
he invested in the Go-Go's reunion tour.
(gasps)
And if that wasn't bad enough,
he got run over by the Go-Go's tour bus and killed... dead.
And since that fateful day,
no one in my family dares to turn away a dying relative
for fear of the curse of Ted.
I'm stuck with Sir Kvetch-a-lot
until he's safely six feet under.
He is still your uncle,
and you should view this as an opportunity
to forge a bond between your past and your future.
But what about the game?!
Oh, come on.
What is he-- 70, 80 years old?
He'll be fast asleep
by the time your game gets going.
MO: Actually, I do go to sleep early.
Hey, were you eavesdropping?
Don't kid yourself.
These walls aren't exactly made of titanium.
Boys, to your rooms.
Whether I kill him or just cry like a woman,
I don't want you to see it.
So, what's your decision?
Maybe if you pamper me,
I'll fall asleep before it starts.
So you got to ask yourself one question:
Do I feel lucky?
Well, do ya... Eric?
All right! You can stay!
But you'd better fall asleep before that game.
I'm yawning already.
Now let's get down to the business at hand
and foot.
Waiting on me.
You...
Ugh!
Oh, oh, my God!
This is a nightmare!
No human body could produce a stench like this!
You got that right.
Before I put on my shoes,
I soaked my feet in pureed herring and manure
just for you.
Hurry! I feel my cuticles wilting.
Lower.
Lower!
Ow! Eh, eh, ow!
Ooh, ow.
Th-That stupid brush is too rough
for my most sensitive skin.
We need something as soft as your hair.
Well, this is the only brush
we have.
Maybe you didn't hear me.
We need something as soft as your hair.
No, you can't mean...
I don't under...
What's not to understand?
I would like you to rub soap in your hair
and then use your head to scrub my tochis.
(teeth chattering)
(screaming)
MO: I'm still awake!
Ah, Ajax, Mambo, Chance...
Charles.
Whatever.
I'll dry off and I'll be back for your rubdown.
Maybe that'll put you to sleep.
Oh, please, please, God, go to sleep.
Hurry up, you moron.
I'm stuck here with Tweedledum, Tweedledumber
and Tweedle-What-a-Friggin'-Moron.
Huh?
Now get lost, will ya?
And take Stimpy with you.
(water dripping slowly)
(dripping gets louder)
Dah!
You know I ain't gonna sleep.
You could give me a rubdown,
an enema, a Taiwanese tongue job,
I'll still humiliate you tonight.
No, no!
Yes, yes, you are screwed.
And these Tums are expired.
Dah!
Ow!
MO: You still in the john?
Come on already!
MAN ON TV: A dime.
This stranger gave me a dime.
(yelling and grunting)
(muffled yelling)
Sleepy yet?!
Now the runway is cleared for the arrival of Air Guccione.
Whoo-hoo-hoo!
My mother of all poker games is saved.
(doorbell rings)
Let the games begin!
I'll get it.
Thanks, Mo. Appreci...
(yells)
Hello, Dopey, Snoozy and Blabby.
You didn't think I'd sleep
through the big night, did you?
How did you get out of the sack
and the chains and the trunk and the... ?
I've ticked off a lot of people in my life.
You know how many times I've been bagged, chained and locked
in a steamer trunk? At this point,
I could escape blindfolded--
oh, you forgot to blindfold me.
(doorbell rings) I'll get it.
I hope that's Guccione. I have a lot to say to him.
No!
Hello, Rube.
Hey, M.C. Cor-nee
and Rapmaster D.,
I hope you brought plenty of cash
for the kitty must be fed.
Duckman, what gives?
You assured me that the great Joe Walsh would be in attendance
and that I'd get a clear shot
at signing him to Def Mute Records.
No, don't worry, Joe will be here.
I should hope so.
Bernice!
Hel-lo.
You have certainly dolled up since last we met.
Oh, um... I'm Bernice's sister Beverly.
Oh, Rube Richter.
Def Mute Records.
Please forgive my confusion, Beverly.
Your sister is a lovely girl.
She has, uh... very strong teeth and fetlocks.
And who have we here?
He's Uncle Mo, he's fine.
Hey, Rube, let me fix you a drink.
I'll take a drink.
You know how to make a fruit cordial?
(laughing)
JOE: Hey, how you doing?
Joe! Come in. Thanks for coming.
Hey, my pleasure.
My pleasure.
Man, Duckman, you got to do something
about your driveway.
It's completely grown over with grass.
CORNFED: Uh, Joe,
that's not the driveway.
You parked on Ben Stein's lawn.
Oh, that must have been the guy who was yelling
and jumping up and down. I-I get it now--
he was yelling, "You're on my lawn! You're on my lawn!"
I thought he was asking me to play "all night long."
Joe, I'm Mo Dorkin, Duckman's uncle.
Now, now, Mel,
let someone else talk to Joe for a change.
Joe, Rube Richter, Def Mute Records.
Oh, good.
Joe, we'd love to have you join our family of artistes
because at Def Mute,
we don't see you as "numbers on a balance sheet."
Rather, we see you as "product to be merchandised."
(doorbell rings)
Must be Guccione. I'll get it.
No, that's okay.
I got it.
Listen, you vicious old blood clot--
one insult, one ethnic slur,
one clammy off-putting remark, and I'll...
And you'll what?
Joe, let me get that.
No, no, I got it.
$20 for you... no, make it 30.
Here's thirty bucks. There you go.
Wow, thanks... Mr. Geffen.
Hey, is it my fault
he's careless with his wallet?
(all laughing)
(doorbell rings)
MO: Oh, boy, that must be Bob.
Whoa!
(crashing)
Oh! Oh, no!
I'm so sorry.
Bob, welcome to my house.
BOB: Uh, thanks, thanks.
Say, who's that woman?
My sister-in-law, Beverly.
Beverly?
Of course, Beverly!
October 1989.
(chuckling)
Well, anyway, thank you for inviting me.
I don't ordinarily go to the homes of total strangers
whom I know to be deranged or obsessive.
But what can I say? I love poker.
Bob Guccione, this is Rube Richter
of Def Mute Records.
Yo!
(softly): This is my Uncle Mo
and Cornfed, my partner.
And this is Joe Walsh--
the man with the magic fingers.
Gentlemen, this is Bob Guccione--
the man who helped make my fingers magic.
That's an image I won't easily shake.
Whoo-hoo!
(laughing and whooping): "Easily shake"!
Oh, God, that's marvelous.
Whoo-hoo! My!
Well, enough talk.
Let's play.
Waah!
This is gonna be a great night.
What do I mean, "gonna be"?
It's already a great night.
Right, Bob, you having fun? It's great, right?
Sure, great.
Duckman, calm down.
Hey, Mo, aren't you going to play?
No! No room! No room!
Of course there's room.
Here, Mo-- you sit next to me.
Why, thank you.
How do you make a fruit cordial?
Well, you... Hey, I know,
let's forget about cards.
We'll light up some cigars
so we can put in our mouths so we can't talk
and we'll watch triple-X videos, huh?
To be honest, the last thing I want to do
after a hard day at the office
is look at beautiful, naked women.
No, trust me, it'll be fun.
Much better than talking, you'll see.
Hey, I don't want to be rude,
but are we going to play cards or not?
Duckman, Bob wants to play cards.
Oh. Oh, okay.
I'll, I'll, I'll, I'll, I'll, I'll, I'll deal.
(yelps)
(clanging)
(panting)
Well, this is certainly awkward.
Mo, how could you?!
Me?! You did it yourself.
Every time I think you can't get stupider,
you always surprise me.
I'm going to love staying here and torturing you.
I only wish I didn't have to get cancer to do it.
Hey, when you first got here, you said it was your heart.
Now it's cancer!
You've been lying this whole time?!
No, I am dying.
I can explain.
(sharp groan)
Uh-oh.
Correction: This is awkward.
Eric, must tell you.
Come closer.
Closer...
closer!
Aah!
What a putz.
Now, I know what kind of man reads Playboy.
(bagpipes playing "Amazing Grace")
(audio tape reversing)
Ajax, don't touch that.
Dearly beloved, family, friends, paid mourners,
we are here to bury my Uncle Mo Dorkin
who was taken from us by heart cancer,
a disease that-- I got to admit-- I had never heard of
until I caused him to die from it.
I will know better next time.
Mo was not famous or gifted or smart or decent or kind.
We are not here because we loved him.
Mostly, we are here because Bernice made us come.
Also, we want to see with our own eyes
that he is really dead
and will not jump out of the coffin
or stick his hand up out of the ground
like in Carrie, when Amy Irving...
Get on with it!
Right. Usually, when a loved one kacks,
we try to hold him here, in our hearts.
Or, if you're from the southern hemisphere--
here.
But who's going to miss Mo? Not me.
Let's face it, he was an irritating, obnoxious,
arrogant, selfish...
Hey, wait. That's what it said
under my high school yearbook photo.
I'm... I'm just like Mo.
And if I don't clean up my act,
I'll end up just like Mo--
lying in a cheap balsa wood casket,
unmissed and... and unloved.
Duckman...
you're forgetting something--
you have a family and friends
who will always love you
no matter how big a jerk you are.
So, bottom-line me, Bev.
I don't have to try to be nicer?
Well, I mean, you don't have to, but it certainly...
Fantastic! All right, let's wrap this up
and plant this bastard.
And what better way
than with a song I wrote in Mo's honor
sung by Mr. Joe Walsh.
Give it up!
(To the tune of "Life's Been Good"): * My name is Mo
* And I was an old man
* It took me hours
* To go to the can
(popping)
* 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
(clinking)
* 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 vay!" *
ALL: * Oy vay *
* I can't complain *
* But sometimes I still do
* Life was good to me till now... *
* Yeah, yeah, yeah.
* Yeah, yeah, yeah
Ah, good.