02x05 - America the Beautiful

[bunniefuu]

[whistles]

[quacks]

[applause and audience oohing]

[screams]

[audience gasping]

[women screaming]

[screaming, gasping]

[blows landing]

[judges gasping,
women screaming]

[people shouting]

[video game warbles]

[beeping]
Huzzah.

Once again, Miss Congeniality
posted the highest body count.

Look, I'm not ordering squat
till you give me an answer.

What part of the chicken
is the nugget?

That's it, boys.
I did my best.

You want to eat, check that
big green container out back.

There always seems to be
something under the eggshells.

We're not hungry, Dad.

We're too busy with disaffected
youth's latest cable trend--

unscrambling the faces
of death network.

All snuff...

All the time.

[doorbell rings, door opens]

[chain saw whirring,
man screaming]

All right.

One less geek hawking
religion door-to-door.

Remember, Duckman, everything
you think, say and do

is bad for the children.

So if you have
to speak to them,

just repeat something
you've heard me say.

Uh, what I meant was,
[screaming continues on TV]

alas, children,

has our moral compass
gone so far south

that we call this sort
of trash entertainment?

Truth be told, the world's
a disgusting place, Dad.

Since we're helpless
to do anything about it,

we've decided to embrace
its many horrors.

For example,
later on

we're helping Grandma-ma
with her sitz bath.

[all shuddering]

Besides,
who are you kidding?

You love this stuff.

Now, now, be fair, Charles.

I mostly wallow
in sexual degradation.

Speaking of which,
if I leave now

I can catch a few lap dances
before breakfast.

You know the drill--
if you make a mess,

push it all into a little corner

so it looks like
you cleaned it up,

and don't let the police in
without a warrant. Ta-ta.

Cornfed, check out
the night crawler

I found in the bus station
men's room.

Three different
vibrating speeds--

slow, medium
and loss of consciousness.

[screams]

What are they doing here?

You know this kind of thing
makes my skin crawl.

A group
of schoolchildren?

Oh. I thought it was the
road company of Annie.

Duckman, this cross-section
of post-toddlers

you nearly dragged through
puberty wants to hire us.

Senor Duckman,
we need your help.

Our idol's disappeared.

Who's that? Barney?

Check the local bathhouse.

We mean America, the supermodel.

Haven't you ever heard of her?

She's the best and most
beautiful model of them all.

That's why we all belong
in to her fan club.

But last week,
she just disappeared.

Now we have no one
to believe in.

Look, pygmies, love to help,

even if I don't know
who this America is.

Unfortunately,
I always require a retainer.

Oh, right.

Like I'm desperate enough
to accept those as payment.

Kids, listen,
I understand your pain.

I don't want you to leave
thinking I'm a totally

heartless,
unfeeling human being.

Here's a little something
to take with you.

Pretend it's a rocket
ship or something.

Go on. Get.
Field trip's over.

Hup two, three.

Thank you, Mr. Duckman,
for your time and...

Can you believe
that diaper dribble?

Where do you think you're going?

To solve the case for those
doe-eyed little tykes.

In a world where hope
is a dwindling commodity,

this is a rare opportunity
to restore some

in our country's youth.

[yawning]

Rarely do two detectives
have the chance

to make such a big difference
in the lives of so many.

[whistling]

Did I mention it gives us
the legal right

to search a beautiful woman's
lingerie drawer?

This one's
for the kids!

Another titanium steel
triple-reinforced dead bolt

picked with nose hair.

Next time use one
of your own.

Hmm, what do we have here?

Ah, big deal.
This kind of thing's common.

Who hasn't broken into
an ex-girlfriend's house

and left the occasional
note written in blood

or a small dead animal
on her pillow?

The placement of items
on the floor

in the shape of a question mark
would lead one to assume

that these are clues
to her whereabouts.

What do you think?

Duckman? Duckman?

It's called
looking for evidence, Hamhead.

Let's sniff through...
uh, sift through these

for any signs of...

Is this...?

Yes, that's America.

She's beautiful, timeless.

But even more,

look at the compassion,
the wounded innocence.

Cornfed,
as the gods are my witness,

I will leave not
the tiniest pebble unturned

in my tireless search
to find America,

returning to those children
the role model every youth needs

in order to become
a stable and mature adult.

Perhaps you should start
by taking off her panties.

Work, work, work--
don't you ever punch out?

That picture's still
haunting me, Corny.

It's as if I've
met her before.

Look, I've got a foolproof
plan to find her.

I took these samples
from her carpet.

We can match them
against every shoe
in the tristate area.

Oh, sure, it'll take
a couple of years,

but she's worth it.

Or we could just
locate the person

whose name and address
is engraved on this pipe.

Yeah, whatever.
Either way's good.

It appears
they don't allow

people of color
in this community.

Hi, Mr. Nelson!

Hi, little Billy.

Okay, Cornfed,
watch how it's done.

You got to deal with
these middle class

flee-to-the-burbs,
can't-stand-a-little-crime

in-the-big-bad-city
fringe dwellers

on their own level.

Excuse me, Mr....

[coughing]

[coughing]
Wilbur Nelson?

We're here to ask you a few
questions about America.

America.
Now, that takes me back.

How's my old flame doing?

Burning a little low--
we can't find her

and thought you might
know where she was.

Afraid I haven't seen America
for quite some time, friend,

but, oh, what memories.

When we met,
she was wholesome, innocent,

and knew her place.

We used to spend
entire evenings together--

our TV dinners on trays
in front of that glorious tube,

watching warm,
idealized families

and non-threatening singing
and dancing minorities.

[groans, coughs]

But then
she started asking me things

like what time I'd be home,

or why she couldn't have
a say in decisions.

[chuckling]

Imagine a woman
questioning my authority.

Dear...
[chain rattling]

will the gentlemen
be staying for dinner?

I've fixed a roast.

Speak only
when spoken to, Kitten.

[giggles]

If I may, it sounds to me
[Duckman coughing]

like you ignore
the world around you

hoping its problems
will simply disappear,

but they might not.

For all you know,
a member of your lodge

may be the Bobby
Sox Strangler,

your paper boy could
be a tr*nsv*stite,

and if you keep
spraying your lawn

with
dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane,

your next generation
of children

could grow limbs in socially
unacceptable places.

Wait a minute, you boys aren't
from around here, are you?

In fact, I'm starting to think
you might be... Communists.

Communists?

Communists?

Communists?

[coughs]

I don't even vote.

Okay, so they
sucker-mobbed us.

He's still a prime,
grade A,

certified suspect
in my book.

Perhaps, but someone else
may have had an a* to grind.

Boy, you're sure putting
a lot of faith in these, uh...

What did you
call them again?

Clues.
Yeah, right.

There's only one place you
can buy a guitar like this--

the All Strung-Out
guitar shop on campus.

[playing "Voodoo Child" intro]

I did a brief stint as
Hendrix in Legends on Ice.

MAN:
Wow, man.

According
to the guitar shop proprietor

we'll find him here.

I haven't seen
this many flakes

since the last time
Ajax got scabies.

[gasping]

Is that my guitar?

Not that I remember
losing my guitar.

'Course, I don't
remember August.

You think there's
a connection?

You must be Syncube.

I must?!

* I am he and you are thee *

* And he's a she
and coffee's free with a BLT *

* And NBC
and hi-diddle-diddly... *

* Dee! *

Everybody, now!


Elvis.

Ow, man.

The only singing you're going
to do is about America.

I don't know anyone
by that name,

but I know an America.

When I first met her,

she was yearning to be free,

to break out,
to experience new things.

So I got her doing stuff

she'd never done before,
like trying to tie her shoes

after being up for a week,

or spending all day
staring at her hand,

or laying around unconscious
in her own sputum.

You can't buy
those kind of memories.

You been sitting
too close to the black light,

magical mystery turd.

What happened to her?
Where'd she go?

Go? She's right
here, man.

My mistake.

So many chicks around
here don't shave.

I'm guessing, but I'd say
his brain waves

crash a little short
of the beach.

[siren wailing]

It's Tuesday.

Time for
your weekly confrontation

with oppressive
authority figures.

[angry shouting]

It's driving
me crazy, Corny.

The more I hear about her,
the more I want to hear.

I just wish I knew
where she might have gone.

You got any more
of those glues?

Clues.
I'm one letter off.

Crucify me!

It so happens
I do have another,

and my hunch is
she went the way

anyone coming from
that lifestyle

would have gone--
headlong into the world

of the shallow
and self-obsessed.

Network television?

A joke that easy deserved
an appropriate response.

[disco music playing]

Hey, how's you doing?

My name's Sal--
Sal Manella.

I dance here every night
'cause it's, like, uh,

a symbolic escape from
the socio-economic malaise

of my environment.

Or was it 'cause I like it
when people look at my butt?

Work it out later,
boogie-boy.

I got a question
for you first.

Wouldn't you dance better
with this?

Thanks. I've been looking
for that for years.

All right,
you j-j-j-jive talking

village person,
where is she?

Who?
America.

Huh?
America.

What?
America!

Whoa, what are the odds
I ask three questions

with the same answer?

Take a look,
Andy Glib.

Maybe some of
the things you shared

will jog your memory.

Oh, yeah. Duh.

We usually went
to swapping parties

and slept with dozens
of total strangers,

basically building an
entire relationship

on lots of wild
and unprotected sex

without any love
or feeling at all.

Okay, so there were
some good times.

Listen, Dancing Queen,

you better hope
she's staying alive,

'cause America's
more than a woman.

And if you're even a fifth
responsible for harming her,

you'll be taking a soul train
straight to a disco inferno

where you never
can say good-bye!

For some reason, you make
me feel like dancin'.

Wait a minute,
I'm not through with you yet!

[yelling]

[grunting and groaning]

[slurping]

[yelling]
What the...?

What's going on?

You blacked out and this
nice wine-soaked man

gave you mouth-
to-mouth.

Call me?

[sputtering, spits]

Corny, what if I never
get to meet her?

What if I never
get a chance to tell her

what I felt when I looked
at that picture?

He could have k*lled her!

Let's not be hasty.

He does have some
redeeming qualities.

We took first in
the hustle contest.

Yes, well...

before we jump to
any conclusions

our next clue indicates
that America grew tired

of aimless decadence and
moved on to something

more lucrative.

Wall Street.

I know it's Sunday,
but we planned

a hostile takeover

of my closest friend's
family business this morning.

Secretaries. She
wants time off

for what she
insists on calling

an operation on her colon.

They found some sort of tumor,
or something.

Sheesh!
[phone ringing]

So much for the charming
patter, sushi-sucker.

We're looking for America.

America? I'm sorry,
I haven't seen her

since the pre-
nuptial hearing.

I've married someone
else-- Valerie--

my trophy wife.

[chuckling]

Before America tired
of the rat race,

she and I went through a
great deal of personal growth,

became better people together,
tried to help mankind...

[laughing]:
I kid, of course.

We made lots of money,
blah-blah-blah,

end of story.

We also had
a solar-heated

winter home in Telluride,

complete with
a pedigreed golden retriever

because of course,
pedi greed is good.

My guess is, you had
everything you wanted.

You revolved your whole
life around being rich,

but it wasn't enough
for her, was it?

Money is never enough
to make you happy.

[whimpers]

It's all right.
An obsession with a woman

can often cause a temporary
shock to your belief system.

Listen, Duck,
I'm no stranger to ideals.

I sell them. $39.95.

WOMAN:
Mr. Stone, the SEC is here
about that lucrative

and extremely fortuitous
stock payoff.

Get back here,
Mr. Fancy Magic Shoes!

I'll trickle down all over you!

I'll up your interest rate,
you hear me?

Get back
and tell me where she is!

At least this portion
of the investigation didn't end

in another random and misplaced
act of v*olence.

Freeze!
Don't move!

[yelling]

[grunting]

Where is she?!

What happened?!

Which one of you
is responsible for this?!

Nelson? Syncube?
Sal? Stone? Cornfed?

Cornfed?

I thought I should
hold on to the keys.

I can't stand it, Corny!

We're never going to find her!

And look at this!

We're down to our last, uh...

Clue?

I think I just
bit into a squirrel.

Let's see...
the FDA allows

a maximum of eight
percent rat feces,

horse lips,
mashed insect,

and ocelot sphincter,
but no, no squirrels.

Duckman, it's a note.

"If you've gotten this far,

"you must be someone who cares
about my fate.

"Hopefully, after talking
to my ex-boyfriends,

"you can understand
why I've given up.

"It's too late to save me,
but I hope you can forgive me.

Good-bye. America."

Corny, she's dead.

[rock music playing loudly]

[flies buzzing]

Here's where
he's been hiding, Cornfed.

He hasn't showered
in days.

Other than that, he's acting
completely different.

It's a classic slacker response
to despair--

the dull, vacant stare,
the loss of brain cells,

the time and effort put in

looking as unattractive
as humanly possible.

He changed his name
to Keanu.

Send me 65 more
microwave burritos.

Just bill it to my step-mom
or my half-dad or my first dad,

or my half-step-uncle.

Pay up.
I didn't think anyone

could atrophy that quickly.

Boys, I told you not
to touch your father.

He looks sticky.

Keanu!
You have a visitor.

He didn't hear the last part.

Having inundated himself
with music videos,

he's no longer able
to concentrate on any one thing

for longer than
a second and a half.

[music stops]

Corn flakes, corn hole,
ear of corn!

* Jimmy cr*ck corn
and I don't care *

* Jimmy cr*ck... *
[yelling]

[crying]
You hurt me!

Oh, it hurts so bad!

Oh, boo-hoo!

You hurt my face!

You hurt my wittle face!

[yelling]

I'm sorry I slapped you,
Duckman,

but I was trying
to calm you down.

And I guess just saying
the words "calm down"

would be considered
hopelessly simplistic.

The point is,
I'm worried about you.

We all are, right, Bernice?
Ah...

While becoming obsessed with
a dead woman you've never met

isn't a surefire sign
of insanity, chances are

you won't be manning
any m*ssile silos for a while.

How dare you cheapen
my feelings for her

by implying that it's some
kind of insane obsession!

What's that, my dear?
You say you're hungry?

Eat, my love, eat.

Oh, why won't you eat?

Tell me why, oh, why, oh, why,
oh, why, oh, why, oh, why?

I'm getting out of here
before the 3:00 drool.

Let's go, children.

I sure hope
no one offers you 50 bucks

to smother him with a pillow.

That would be wrong.

You're keeping her note?

That's mine!
Give it back.

This was yours.

You touched it.

The talking pig
doesn't understand.

Now you're gone.
You left me.

Me, I'm in dumps.

In dumps?

In dumps!
In dumps! In dumps!

In dumps! In dumps!
In dumps! In dumps!

Well, he seems
to be getting better.

DUCKMAN:
America! America!

America!

Ally-ally-oxen-free!

America!

Here I am.

America,
you're, you're...

I was going to say beautiful,
but actually, you could stand

being run through
the car wash a few times.

Why are you here?

I'm tired, I'm sick.

I don't know why anyone
would want to find me.

Uh, because you're
sunshine, flowers,

rainbows and daisies
all rolled into one

and held together by, uh...

a wad of something?

Uh, gum?

No. I'm used up.

Everyone I met
just took from me.

They gave nothing back.

I was there for anyone
who'd care for me.

No one did.

I care.

Too late.

You only felt
something for me

after you thought
I was gone.

I guess so.

I guess I've had my share

of bad luck
and bad relationships.

Heck, I got suits
pending against me

from three different
dating services

and the teen chat line.

There've even been times
when I've wanted to give up,

but if I do, how can I expect
things to ever get better?

What kind of world
would I be leaving for my kids?

Don't give up, America.

You've got to keep going...
for your kids.

[piano playing gentle melody]

* We are hope and love *

* We are everywhere *

* When hearts need to believe *

* When we dare to care *

* We are there *

* Every German
who chugs a beer *

* We are there *

* Every African
who throws a spear *

* We are there *

* Every Chinaman in a junk *

* We are there *

* Every Mexican in a trunk *

* We are there *

* Every Bedouin on a dune *

* We are there *

* Every Frenchman
playing "Claire de Lune" *

* We are there *
* Every Syrian or Kazakhstani *

* We are there *

* Every Giorgio and his Armani *

* We are there *

* Every Spaniard
playing second flute *

* We are there *

* Every Dane, Norwegian
and Aleut *

* We are there *

* Every single guy
who's Aborigine *

* We are there *

* Every Englishman
who's Walter Pidgeon-y *

* We are there *

* From Hollywood,
home of big celebrities *

* We are there *

* To Vanuatu,
the old new Hebrides *

* We are there *

* From New Yorkers
eating steak tartare *

* We are there *

* To every friend
of Pablo Escobar *

* We are there *

* From the Taiwanese
and Cuban Petes *

* We are there *

* To the Russians
with their soup of beets *

* We are there *

* Every Tamil, Tartar,
Thai, Tibetan *

* We are there *

* And anybody else
that we're forgettin' *

* We are there *

* Everyone from Niger,
Tonga, Bali *

* We are there *

* The French Sudan,
which is now called Mali *

* We are there *

* Everybody up in Katmandu *

* We are there *

* Every Canadian,
'cause we're there, too, eh? *

* We are there *

You seemed even more manic
and unstable than usual

so I followed you.

One thing puzzles me.

How did you know
the smell of her note

came from this particular
landfill's rotting food?

Elementary,
my dear Cornfed.
* We are there *

I was here just last week.

Don't tell Bernice,
but, uh,

I got her a burial plot
for her birthday.

* We are there *
Mum's the word.

Duckman, you were right.

I can't give up on my children.

How can I ever thank you?

Just take care of them.

I will. I promise.

* We are there *

* We are there *

You know, Cornacious,

I think everything's

going to work out
just fine for America.

Kids, why don't we all go out
for ice cream--

my treat.

[cheering]

* We are there *

Uh, could someone float
me a long-term loan?

I'm broke.

* We are there *

* Every Tajikistani with a yak *

* We are there *

* Every Bolivian in a sack *

* We are there *

* Every caner in Singapore *

* We are there *

* Everybody who's really sore *

* We are there *

* Every Turk
in a Teaneck diner *

* We are there *

* Or South African
diamond miner *

* We are there *

* Every gypsy
playing finger cymbals *

* We are there *

* Anyone who ever shopped
at Gimbels *

* We are there *

* We are there *

* We are there *

* We are there *

* We are there *

* We are there *

* We are there... *

* We are there *

* We are there *

* We are there *

* We are there *

* We are there *

* We are there *

* We are there *

* We are there *

* We are there *

[fading]:
* We are there... *