A Room With A Bellevue
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			     Epsisode 4328
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Short Intro

Interior shot of window overlooking high-level freeway.  Noices of
traffic.

Title: "A ROOM WITH A BELLEVIEW"

Duckman sits up, waking, a bra on his head.

DUCKMAN:	(panicy) D'aaahhh!

Shot of living room, twins on settee, Ajax in from of television.

DUCKMAN:	Ajax, I told you to wake me at seven!

AJAX:		Don't worry Dod, it's twelve... twelve... twelve...
		twelve...

Shot of VCR clock showing "12:00"

AJAX:		Twelve... twelve...




DUCKMAN:	If I don't call the governor in time with this new evidence
		a wrongly accused killer is going to get the chair.

FX: Lights dim, buzzing noise.

DUCKMAN:	Oh well, back to bed.

BEATRICE:	Duckman! Aren't you forgetting something?

no you downy dunnuck the twins birthday

this year i dodged a bullett to bring them this



actually dad, in leu of of your gifts from the heart we have a favout
to ask

and actually wear some clothes


o fine, squash the natural expression of my beuty
amazing the stuff you find in a train wreck

if you're not in time for the twins' birthday tonight




DUCKMAN:	Family! Can't live with them, can't stuff a throw-pillow
		over their mouthes and throw their lifeless bodies into the
		woodchipper.

woodchipper quarterly

DUCKMAN:	Hey! Feel free to dump leaves on my lawn because my
		neighbours are too stupid to use a rake!


HONK!

fly buizzes into car

note to myself: no more meat-flavoured cologn

I need this cleaed.
ok, how's friday?
how's now?
how's two saturdays from now at two-fourtyfive


if I bring something in by nine, it'll be out by, oh, five



you're whole plan is to stall until after nine, isn't it.


carjacking!

car moves one foot.


four hours to get to the office, I'm surrounded by crooks and 



ur, duckmanm Mr vanderghorn's a client, he owes US money.


we won't be paying our bill









DUCKMAN:	D'aahh!! One o'clock already.  If I leave now I can get to
		the cleaner's by five.




I made it, where's my suit?

you go now.

Arhh!! can't take it any more

we want leaders to make tough choices and we vote them out when they do.

We're arresting you for ranting in public without a starched collar.



....



DUCKMAN:	And when you think about it, isn't that exactly the point?

(They stare at him, he looks back at them uncomfortably, back and forth)

		Parking.

(They nod, understanding)

		And driving. And shopping. And eating. And working.
		Somewhere, somehow, they're different now, none of 'em are
		the same, they all got chewed up and spat back out, and
		they don't taste like living anymore! Don't you see what
		it's like in this deranged Waring Blender of a world?!
		Every day is an agonizing ordeal, like balancing a pot of
		scalding water on your head while people whip your legs and
		butt... 

(smiles) 

		You never forget your senior prom... 

(back to anger) 

		YOU think I'm "sick"?! Well the only disease I've got is
		"Modern Life," a schnutbusting gauntlet of inefficiency and
		misery that's one long parade of let-downs, put-downs,
		trickle downs, shutouts, freezeouts, sell-outs, numnuts,
		nincompoops and nimrods, all making every day as much fun
		as waxing a flaming Pontiac with your tongue, where even if
		you do luck into the possibility of some fleeting pleasure,
		like, say, if some nymphomaniac telephone operators with
		the muscle control of Rumanian mat-slappers agree to a
		little Strip Air Hockey, it'll be over before it starts
		'cuz some vowel-lacking, feta-reeking cab-jockey slams his
		Checker up your hatchback and the cab is owned by some
		pinata spanker from a Santeria cult in Xoacalpa who starts
		shaking chicken bones at you and gives you a boil on your
		neck so big all it needs is Michael Jordan's autograph to
		make it complete, and even with all this, with ALL THIS, I
		still drag my sorry butt off the Sealy every morning and
		stick my face in the reaping machine for one more day,
		knowing when it's time to flash the cosmic card key at
		those Pearly Gates, I won't be in the coffin anyway 'cuz
		some underhanded undertaker sold my heart, pancreas and
		other assorted Good 'N' Plenty to that same Santeria cult
		so does anybody really wonder why anybody is hanging onto
		sanity by the atoms on the tips of their fingernails while
		Life dirty-dances on their digits, and is it really any
		wonder that I seem DERANGED???!!"

(Off their stunned looks)

		But...heh-heb... that's probably nothing you haven't heard
		a hundred times before...







Cedits: Jason Alexander
Nancy Thingy
etc.
etc.