The Queen is Wild / Back to the Academy

[SCREAMS] [PANTING] Uh-oh. Dead end. Not good. [SCREAMS] Hey there, sweet stuff. MARTIAN QUEEN: Prepare to meet thy doom, Duck Dodgers. [GRUNTING] Pretty fancy moves there, baby, but you completely missed me. Okay, you mostly missed me. MARTIAN QUEEN: Ugh. Even as a robot, he's annoying. COMMANDER: Oh, that was just peachy, my queen. A simply ducky decapitation. If only it were the real thing. Careful with the cabeza. I have a soft palate. Glad to oblige. Whoa! [GRUNTING] COMMANDER: Begging your pardon, my queen, but I thought you were over him. MARTIAN QUEEN: Let me tell you a story, commander. A story of betrayal and lies. And a woman's heart torn asunder. Let me tell you of a consort's throne left vacant a bridal chamber left barren and a reception hall left filled with them big shrimp. COMMANDER: I feel your pain. MARTIAN QUEEN: But now, I will have my richly deserved revenge. I myself will humiliate Duck Dodgers as he humiliated me. And when the wretch begs for mercy he shall receive not but the heel of my foot and my laugh of bitter contempt. [MUSIC PLAYING ON RADIO] HAPPY CAT: Ha-ha-ha! Happy Cat say time to wake up. Ha-ha-ha! You think Happy Cat kidding? Ha-ha-ha! Wakey-wakey, snoozy duck. Ha-ha-ha! DODGERS: That cadet buys the worst Christmas presents. Yo, cadet, how about working me up one of them famous deep-dish pot-stickering kielbasa pizzas? Wow, cadet's quarters are a total pigsty. He's usually such a neat freak, for a guy who's actually a pig. Wakey-wake, snoozy pig. Gotcha. [WHIRRING] MARTIAN QUEEN: Greetings, Duck Dodgers. Gah! What are you doing in the cadet's bed? This is a holographic projection, you idiot. I knew that. Your precious cadet is my prisoner. And if you would ever like to see him again, you will meet me on the frozen plains of Fridgedonia Seven. Aren't you even gonna try and rescue him? Eh. Actually, I've been thinking of getting an intern. Mull it over, hero boy. Well, the cadet does make a mean pot-stickering kielbasa pizza. [WIND HOWLING] I wonder how long I'll stay fresh in this glass. Yup, it's a frozen duck and a frozen chicken off to save a frozen pig. All of which can be found in the frozen-food aisle of your favorite supermarket. He seems to be trying to communicate. Oh, it's charades. I love charades. Let's see. Waving. Waving like crazy. Goodbye. Magic fingers. Goodbye, Mr. Chips. Piano playing. Victor Borge. Victor Mature. Cheers. Taxi. Marilu Henner. No? Sounds like point. Moint, roint, soint, koint, doint, loint. Sounds like pointing? Bointing, mointing, rointing, sointing, kointing, lointing, dointing. Breath. Driving Miss Daisy. No? "L-O-O-K out. " Hey, you're not supposed to spell stuff out in charades. Sort of takes the fun out of it. [SCREECHING] [YELLS] MARTIAN QUEEN: What brings you here, Dodgers? Well, besides making some of the prettiest snow angels you've seen I've come to collect my pig. MARTIAN QUEEN: Is that all, Dodgers? You're not here to beg my forgiveness for dashing my heart and spurning the throne of Mars? Who dashed where against what now? MARTIAN QUEEN: Let's just get this over with once and for all. That's okay by me. MARTIAN QUEEN: Do you know how to use that thing? I haven't had any complaints from the ladies. MARTIAN QUEEN: The ladies? Of course, not quite bigger than life, but you get the concept. MARTIAN QUEEN: Always the modest one, Dodgers. [YELLING] [GRUNTING] Say, you're cutting it kind of close there. Are you upset about something? MARTIAN QUEEN: Me? Of course not. You just left me at the altar. Good. I hate it when these things get personal. We're just two sworn enemies with no emotional attachments consenting adults in a duel to the death. MARTIAN QUEEN: Exactly. Where's she going? MARTIAN QUEEN: Bigger than life, my foot. No! My beautiful ice sculpture! MARTIAN QUEEN: I'll chop that ego down a bit. I'm too young to be crushed by a giant likeness of myself. MARTIAN QUEEN: Oh, wow, that felt great. What a release. Just call me the postnasal drip. Catch, sweetums. [GRUNTING] MARTIAN QUEEN: You'll suffer for that, Dodgers. She makes better snow angels than I do. Now I'll just set the old evaporator to automatically zap me and the cadet back to the ship. According to my calculations, three minutes should buy me plenty of time. If it works for a frozen burrito, it should work for me. Where is the cadet? I'd better recheck my calculations. I never was very good at math. Let's see. Seven thousand X equals Y divided by speed of light crossed with nine times the cosine of Newton's Law of Fudge. Say, what was Newton's Law of Fudge? [SNORING] [WHIMPERS] [CRASH] MARTIAN QUEEN: Who goes there? - Oh, well, I. MARTIAN QUEEN: You dare disturb my slumber? Go back to sleep. This is only a nightmare. You'll forget every bit of it when you wake up. MARTIAN QUEEN: On the contrary, I plan to forget you right now. Heh, heh. What's that? Some kind of fancy curling iron? MARTIAN QUEEN: These micro-homing missiles are locked onto your very genetic code. Ah, a fellow firearms enthusiast. MARTIAN QUEEN: Prepare to meet thy doom, Duck Dodgers. [TIMER BEEPING] MARTIAN QUEEN: How resourceful. He is most magnificent. I mean, I hate that duck. DODGERS: Stupid math. MARTIAN QUEEN: I know Dodgers is out there, cadet plotting his next brilliant maneuver with cat-like cunning. I'm sure he's planning something very clever. Giant rock takes queen. Stand back, cadet. The blast from this popgun should neutralize your magnetic containment field. Wow, that might actually work. I learned all my hard sciences from reading comic books. Just like when Richie Rich freed Little Lotta from the diabolical clutches of Hot Stuff. Whoa. Run for it, Captain Dodgers. Don't crowd me, kiddo. [GRUNTS] MARTIAN QUEEN: I am way frustrated. - She's catching up to us. - Three, two, one. Wow, that was a pretty impressive calculation. That's nothing. I even set the timer on the VCR. [ALARM WAILING] - All right, cadet, get us out of here. - The Martians are gaining on us. MARTIAN QUEEN: Lock all weapons on Dodgers' ship. Fire. A hull breech in decks six through 12. We're headed straight for the Minton Nebula. - Take us in. - Into the nebula? - That will render our sensors inoperative. - Take us in. CENTURION: The fools. MARTIAN QUEEN: Follow them. CENTURION: If we follow them, we'll be flying blind. MARTIAN QUEEN: Follow them! Sensors at 11 percent and our shields are failing. Hold our present course. [THUNDER CRASHING] MARTIAN QUEEN: Where are you, Dodgers? Where are you? There! Fire! CENTURION: He's helpless. Nothing can save him now. Finish him, Your Highness. It seems that the Martian Queen is hesitating. Why would she do that? Isn't it obvious, sir? She has feelings for you. She loves you. Gee, imagine that. She loves me. That's just the tactical advantage I need. - What? - Spin this puppy around and blast her engine thingies. CENTURION: He's heading straight for us. [BOTH CHEERING] I sure showed queenie what for, eh, cadet? But if you were just a little nicer to her, she may have taken you back. Yeah, you could've been king of Mars. King of Mars? Dames. Greetings, Your Highness, I hope your hunting trip went well. My ship has been disabled and Duck Dodgers has gotten away. I'm so very sorry to hear that. I will send a royal shuttle, but it may take a while to get to you. Oh, I have a way to pass the time. [SCREAMING] DODGERS: Hey! Whoa! MARTIAN QUEEN: So he's mechanical. [DODGERS PANTING] Good morning, Captain Dodgers. Here's the morning space mail. Hmm, let's see. Summons. Summons. Restraining order. Gee, I really should call her. Can you believe this? I got another stupid notice demanding me to show up for Protectorate training. Rubbish. Aah! No! This training is manda--It's required. All Protectorate personnel must keep up their credentials by passing the annual Protectorate training tests. See, I passed mine earlier this year. I don't need no school. I learned everything I know from the streets. You better get moving or you're gonna be late. Attention! During these training exercises you will report to me, Master Sergeant Emily Dickinson Jones. Um, excuse me, did you say your name was Emily? Yes, I did, soldier. Do you have a problem with that? It's just that, you know, Emily is a lady's name. [LAUGHING] Here in the 24th and one-half century we're unencumbered by gender-based names and my mama happens to be a fan of romantic poetry. Have I made myself clear? It seems that we've reached an understanding, Emily. Emily? [LAUGHING] Emily. An authority hater, eh? Drop and give me 50! Fifty what? Push-ups! [GRUNTING] Sarge, on this first one, do you think you can give me a spot? I just live for guys like you. Dodgers, in this test, you will be piloting a space fighter in a virtual environment. Ooh, sounds scary. Oh, don't worry, little duck, the computer's been programmed to make sure you feel every bit of pain and anguish. - It figures. - Get ready, pilot. To make things interesting we've re-created a fighter pilot from the 20th century to be your opponent. What? Couldn't we just play computer chess or "Pong" or something? Uh-oh. I'm sure they chose someone beyond formidable. Hiyo! TV's Ed McMahon? You are correct, sir. For a minute, you had me worried. McMAHON: I'm fully qualified to be your challenger. I was a Marine Corps fighter pilot back in the 20th century. Wow, you learn something new every day. Shall we have at it then? It will be a pleasure, sir. No, sir, the pleasure is all mine. And away we go. Hey, Ed, you never said that. - What? - I'm sure that was Jackie Gleason's line. Really? How about "Nanu-Nanu"? That's Mork From Ork. Oh, dang, my computer programming must be acting up. - Where's the beef? - Clara Peller. - Who? - That old hamburger lady. - Look, are we gonna fight or what? - A thousand pardons oh, wise and exalted duck. Oh, hey, that's me. DODGERS: Whatever. Ed McMahon. Ha! I could win this dogfight with one hand tied behind my--Whoa! Hiyo! [YELLS] DODGERS: Spinning wildly out of control. Can't pull out. I've lost primary engines. Explosion imminent. Can't eject. Curse you, Ed McMahon. Oh, for the love of Mike, how long must I suffer? And to think they pay me to do this. Welcome to your worst nightmare, Dodgers. Hand-to-hand combat. Let me introduce your next opponent, Utte Frauburger. Ladies champion wrestler for the new East German wrestling league. [CHUCKLING] But she's a woman. Or a man with nine backs. Remember, you have to stay in there for three minutes to get a passing grade. All right, Frau Frauburger prepare to defend yourself as I can show you no mercy. [PUNCHING AND DODGERS GRUNTING] If you need me, I'll be in my tent working on my rÃ©sumÃ©. I'll tally your scores and deliver my final report in the morning. Good morning, Captain Dodgers. Are you ready for your final grade? Sock it to me, sargey. Duck Dodgers, by the authority of the Galactic Protectorate I regret to inform you that your final grade is: A-plus? - But how? - Actually, it was all too simple. All I needed was a well-executed plan. DODGERS [OVER RADIO]: How do things look down here? Two guards in front of the sergeant's quarters. How are you gonna get inside and steal the grade book? Don't worry, cadet, I don't think they'll be able to keep their minds on their work. Eat your heart out, Sydney Bristow. Charlie, you seeing what I'm seeing? I'm seeing it, but I ain't believing it. You two dopes are intoxicated with my wild beauty, are you not? - No. - No way. Your swooning craniums aren't forgetting their duties, are they? You're a guy duck, aren't you? Let's cut to the chase. How's about I just give you two galoots to let me in the sergeant's quarters? Ain't no thing but a chicken wing on a string. Baby needs a new pair of shoes. I'm in. Sergeant Stupid's sound asleep. And I believe I've spotted my quarry. Deploy countermeasures. Affirmative. Deploying countermeasures. Laser-activated trip wires, eh? I'll use my grapple belt. A flying fish. [DODGERS GRUNTS] A bowl this size really needs a guest room. Captain, I'm detecting some strange gargling noises. Those are my lungs. But my mission's accomplished. And just like that, my grade went from an F-minus to an A-plus. See, I just thought I'd-- You just thought you would break into my quarters steal my grade book and falsify official Protectorate records? Well, if you put it that way. Why, Dodgers, I couldn't be more proud. What you talking about, Willis? Why, you're just the kind of resourceful, cunning and ingenious space captain the Protectorate needs. Here's your diploma. Congratulations, captain, you did it. You should be very proud of yourself. I hope you learned your lesson about the benefits of a proper education. Eh. I told him I don't need no school. [English - US -SDH]