The Wild Wild West (1965–1969): Season 2, Episode 17 - The Night of the Feathered Fury - full transcript

Special Agents Jim West and Artemus Gordon meet a mysterious woman with a toy chicken who has important information about the dastardly Count Manzeppi. West and Gordon notice the Count, disguised as an organ grinder, outside their window, when a monkey tosses in a smoke bomb. When the smoke clears, the woman is gone but the toy chicken remains. Manzeppi is after the chicken which contains the mystical Philosopher's Stone. The stone will turn anything near it to gold in the light of a full moon.

You'll have exactly
60 seconds, Loci.

Ah, there you are.

This is Mr. West and Mr. Gordon.

How do you do?

And this...

is Gerda Sharff.

The answer to all my prayers.

Oh, well, congratulations.

I hope you'll both
be very happy.

Hang it all, Gordon, I
didn't mean it that way.


Now, Miss Sharff
happens to be a member...

Correction. An ex-member of
Count Manzeppi's organization,

who has offered to give us
some very helpful information

about him.

Any questions?

Mmm. That's a delightful
perfume you're wearing.

Uh, is that jasmine?

What? Oh, no. It's patchouli.

Oh, it's charming.

Could you tell us
where we might find

Count Manzeppi now?

And how much
money that information

is going to cost our government.

Confound it, West,
that wasn't called for.

Please, colonel, let me.

The answer to your
question is not a penny.

There. You see, Jim?

Shame on you.

Uh, you do want
something, though, don't you?

Yes. Help. To escape.

Count Manzeppi has a long arm,

and when he
finds out what I'm...



Where, uh... Where's
the young lady?


Luncheon appointment,
no doubt. I'll take the stairs.

I'll take the high road.

Well, she wasn't on the stairs.

All I could find was that.

Little souvenir she
probably dropped.

To my cherished antagonists,

if you have survived
my little surprise, that is.

Let this serve as a reminder
that my creative capacity

to delude you is infinite.

My resources are endless.

But my patience,

sad to say, is quite limited.

Need I say this?

You have been warned

by Count Carlos Mario
Vincenzo Robespierre Manzeppi...

your servant.

The scent of
patchouli is in the air.

Can Gerda be far behind?

Oh, wait, please.

Ah, yes, of course.

"The long arm of
Count Manzeppi,"

as you put it.

Now, there's a coincidence.

I have a dressing gown

exactly like that.

Oh, please, Mr. West.
I had to take a bath.

All that plaster dust
from the explosion

was in my hair.

I do hope you don't
mind my borrowing this.

Mind? I'm grateful.

I never knew how
delightfully it could be filled out.

And, Mr. West, you
saved my life back there.

I want you to know how
very, very grateful I am.

You're very good at that, Gerda.

Good at what?

That shy,
little-schoolgirl routine...

when actually you're as
hard as nails, aren't you?

With a minimum
of tricks, Mr. West.

Give me your gun belt
if you want to stay alive.

Now let's get down to cases.

You have something I
dropped, and I want it back.

A little toy chicken.

That's it. Give it to me.

I'm sorry, but it's locked
in the colonel's vault.

Drop by and pick it up tomorrow.

I want it now.

What's the big hurry?

You saw what happened in
Colonel Armstrong's office.

I'm on the run. You
silly, silly little girl.

You're not running anywhere.

I hope you're not
misguided enough

to think that I won't shoot.

Oh, no.

I'm sure you would

and I'm sure you'd enjoy it,

but your concern
should be out there.

Count Manzeppi's
somewhere out there.

That's enough of
your tired little tricks.

He didn't see me come here.

Count Manzeppi doesn't
have to see anything.

His specialty is figuring
out what people will do.

And right now the
count is probably figuring,

"If I were Gerda

"and I were on the run,
where would I run to?

Ah, yes. James
West's railroad car."

People really
should make a point

of listening to you, Mr. West.

He makes a great deal of sense,

doesn't he, Loci?

My compliments, sir.

I, uh... I would invite
you and your friend in,

except, uh,

you are already, aren't you?


My flower.

I'm afraid you've
been very naughty.

Don't think I won't
shoot, count. I will.

Bless you, my child, of
course you'll shoot me.

Don't the ladies
have unique ways

of showing their affection?

You're a connoisseur in
these matters, Mr. West.

How would you rate our Gerda
on the scale of pulchritude?

Very high.

And in the matter of morals?

Very low.

Hm-hm. I agree.

On both counts.

Gerda, my blossom,
you seem troubled.

There's no need to be.

You're among friends.

But then, friends don't
shoot each other, do they?

Any more than they
steal from one another.

Return to me that
which you stole from me

and I'll forgive you...

after I punish you.

Ha, ha. But more of that anon.

I do admire your quarters, sir.

Very smartly gotten up.

I could be quite
comfortable here.

But then, I seem to have told
you that on another occasion,

and you haven't
taken the hint yet.

Very nice, indeed.

Don't you agree, Luther?

It's okay.

Luther Coil.

Another connoisseur
of impeccable taste.

Delayed adolescent,
wouldn't you say?

At heart, aren't we all?

Show Mr. West how
your toy works, Luther.

You throw it up,
you get ready...

you throw it up and you aim...

you throw it up...

and you fire.

Some fun. Huh?

Very nice.


now let's start playing rough.

Come, come, Luther.

Greediness is unbecoming.

Let others amuse themselves.


Dodo le Blanc.

Another valued colleague of mine

from the isle of Mauritius.


foursquare, with his feet
fixed firmly on the ground.

So to speak.


How well-named
your colleague is.



"large flightless bird
from the isle of Mauritius

distinguished for
its clumsiness"?

Which eventually became extinct.

I do not become
extinct, monsieur.

I make others extinct.

Hmm. You cope
very well, Mr. West.

Very well, indeed. But
then, you always did.

It's just a knack.

Behind you!

Want to play some
bounce ball, Mr. West?

I got the ball.

And guess who we're
going to take turns

bouncing it off, monsieur?

Dear me, Mr. West...

this looks like a situation

that would strain even
your talents for survival.

Can you cope?

No problem at all.

Hold it right there.


Upon my word, gentlemen,
that was well done.

You planned this little ploy?

Well, let's just say
that we stole a page

from the handbook on tactics
by that eminent tactician...

Count Manzeppi,

whom we figured
would be coming our way

in his search for Gerda.

After figuring out
that she might be

coming out our way too.

Are we getting a little too
complicated for you, count?

Hmm? Oh, no. I adore
complicated devices.

Witness my affection for Gerda.

Come along, my love.

We mustn't wear out
our welcome, must we?

Sit down, count.

We wouldn't think
of seeing you go.

I have no quarrel
with you or Mr. Gordon.

But the United States
government does

have a quarrel with you.

And your two juvenile
delinquent friends there.

So just sit down, count.

On the other hand,

we don't have any reason
to detain Miss Sharff, do we?

I can't think of any.

Then if she were to,
uh, sashay out of here,

what could we do about it?

Not one blessed thing.

More of this anon.

You look a little
upset, Count Manzeppi.

The article that Gerda
pinched from you, perhaps?

Must have been
something very valuable.

In point of fact,

the value was
largely sentimental.

It was a toy chicken.

But it's the
principle of the thing.

Artie, while Count
Manzeppi and I are discussing

the finer points of principle,

why don't you tap off a
message to headquarters?

It'd be a pleasure.

Uh, Jim, let's, uh...

I never thought I'd
hear myself say this.

Ahem. Let's search the monkey.

Nice going, Artie.

Count, if you have any influence
with your furry little friend,

get him to hand over
that tin cup... gently.

Loci, never argue with anyone

when you're on the
wrong side of a gun. Hmm?

Do as the man says.

Thank you.

Come along, Loci.
Where are your manners?

Return the compliment.

He's gone.

Most of him.

All right, Wanda.

Cut it.

Nothing, huh?

It just doesn't figure.

Here's a chicken manufactured

similar to thousands of
them all over the country.

There has to be some
manufacturer's name,

some country's name,
some casting stamp.

But you can't find anything.

I've photographed that
refugee from a henhouse

from every conceivable angle.

I've enlarged it
under the belopticon.

I've examined it
under that microscope.

There's nothing, just nothing.

Too bad, Artie.

If we can find out
who made this,

we might find out
why the elusive count

is so interested in it.

Oh, how well I know.

Ahem. Excuse me, gentlemen.

The, uh, colonel's
waiting for your report.

Oh, yes. Thank you.
Well, come on, Jim.

We may as well
get this over with.

"Heinrich Sharff."

Heinrich Sharff.

Oh, my apologies to
Mr. Gordon and the colonel.

I've just developed a
splitting headache. Bye.

Yes, sir?

I believe Mr. Sharff
made this toy.

I'd like to confirm it.

Certainly, sir.
I'll show it to him.

I've got a better idea.

Show me Mr. Sharff.

As you please,
sir. I'll fetch him.

Amuse yourself till then.

Thank you.

Count, I never tire
of your entrances.

Very important, aren't they?

After all, what is life

but an entrance, a
brief performance,

then an exit?

To coin a phrase.

Benji tells me you have a bird.


Little bird that goes, peck...



Oh, yes. That bird.

Well, I brought it
here to Mr. Sharff

to see if he could repair it.

Oh, by the way, is, uh,
Gerda related to Mr. Sharff?

He's her uncle or
something, I believe.

Forgive me! Herr Sharff,

may I present Mr. West.

It is a pity, isn't it?

He was an enormously
talented man.

He made the chicken you
have to my exact specifications,

but then he decided to keep it.

Theft most foul.

I ask you, what
could I do but...

It seems everyone winds
up trying to keep the chicken,

including Gerda.

Oh, yes.

You know about that.

It's odd. It seems
to be contagious.

Now no more monkey
business. Drop your gun belt.

You have put us through

a great deal of
trouble, Mr. West.

You might have known in the end

you'll have to yield the bird.

But first I would
like to be allowed

to teach monsieur
West a dancing lesson.

All right, Dodo.

If it doesn't kill you,

it'll be very good
for your soul.

You are not afraid,
Monsieur West?

Perhaps you have
ice water in your veins?

Kismet. What will be, will be.

I believe a man's destiny

is written in the stars.

Benji, get him.

He thinks he got away.

So very good of you
to drop in, Mr. West.

I'll have the bird now.

The bird.

Oh, win a few, lose
a few, huh, count?


That's not what he
showed me, maestro.

It was the chicken.

I swear it.

He had the real chicken.
I saw it with my own...

Search our honored guest,

with his permission, of course.

Mr. West,

in the past,

you and I have had
our little differences,

but we would do well to remember

the bard's immortal reminder:

Strive mightily,

but eat and drink as friends.

Won't you join me?

Why not?

Five minutes with you always
does wonders for my appetite.

Here for your edification

is a savory dish I
prepared with my own hand,

and it is my humble wish

that you find it as memorable
as those timeless words

of the Byzantine
emperor Herodotus...

"If you can't beat 'em,

kill 'em."

What it comes down to is this:

West suddenly gets a notion

to go skylarking off to
heaven knows where,

and just like that,
he picks up and goes.

Sir, if Jim just picked
up and went, as you say,

it had to be to
follow a hot lead,

something that
just wouldn't wait.

Leaving us to wait, huh?

Just how long are we
supposed to sit around here,

twiddling our thumbs, hm?

I don't know, sir.

If there were only some way

we could make contact
with the enemy, I...

All right. Come on.

What does that Mona
Lisa smile mean this time?

Uh, nothing. It just
occurs to me, sir,

if we can't make
contact with the enemy,

maybe we can make
the enemy contact us.

I'm taking this.
Don't try and stop me.

Relax, Gerda.

I know you've got a gun
in your other hot little hand,

but you don't want this chicken.


White milk chocolate.

It's an expert copy,
if I do say so myself.

All right, you've
had your little joke.

Now I want the real chicken.

I want the real Jim West.

Did it ever occur to
you that we could both

get what we wanted
by working together?

Welcome back from
your trip, Mr. West.

Thank you.

I remember thinking
it was the kind

from which there is no return.

No, no, no.

That comes later.

This time you were
merely lulled to sleep

by a quick-acting opiate triad

from the tasty dish
I set before you,

during which time
my colleagues and I

searched for the chicken
you so cleverly hid.

Good hunting?

Point of fact, no.

I want that bird,
do you hear me?

You must have a real
sentimental attachment for it.


Mr. West,

you almost made
me lose my temper,

and that's not an easy
thing to do, I assure you.

By the by, in case your
curiosity is aroused,

these are the instruments

with which Benji
will perform on you

the ancient oriental
rite known as...

What is that lovely name again?

The divine stripping
away of the husk.

Yes, that's it.

In less flowery language,

it refers to the
little-known art of flaying,

the skillful
removal of the skin,

leaving only thousands

of outraged nerve
endings exposed.

Mr. West, long before
Benji is finished with you,

you'll not only tell us
where you hid the chicken,

you'll plead eloquently
for the swift mercy of death.

Just what is the big attraction

for that little bird?

Are you ready, maestro?

Wait a minute.

We owe Mr. West
the usual last request.

What is the big attraction,

you ask?

It lays these kind of eggs.

Nut and bolt of solid gold.

And this.

And this.

A few nights ago,

these homely little
objects were made of iron.

I myself placed them
beside the chicken

by the light of a full
moon, you understand,

for that is a
basic prerequisite,

and before my very eyes,

they changed to purest gold.

Does that bring
anything to mind?

The philosopher's
stone, of course.

Yes. The philosopher's stone,

the fabulous stone that
transmits base metal into gold,

the stone that demented old
alchemists of the Middle Ages,

frittered away their
lives trying to compound,

and look, you...

one of them did compound it.

Said stone is now
inside the chicken.

A convenient cover
from prying eyes.

How you acquired this stone

might make interesting telling.

That story would weave

a tangled thread

down into the misty stench

of ancient crypts,

through the brooding
bazaars of Damascus,

up to the high wastes of Tibet,

watered by a small
ocean of blood.

How time flies when
you're having fun.

You had your curiosity
satisfied, Mr. West,

and your time has come
for Benji's treatment.

He's apt to prove
unpleasantly athletic.

Have Luther and
Dodo lend you a hand.

Mr. West...


Lucky for you. Look what my
next move would have been, Dodo.

Hello, boys. Heinrich.

We're closed for the day.

It's Hansee.

We don't want any.

Your Uncle Hansee
from Pennsylvanee.

That's all right, sonny. I
am not here on business.

Here, have a smoke.

That's a good eastern smoker

that's on me to you.

It's your Uncle Hansee,
Heinrich, here all the way...

♪ Da-da dee dee da-da dum ♪

♪ Dee dee dee-doo da doo ♪

♪ Da da dee dee ♪

Mr. Sharff didn't mention
any Uncle Hansee.

He didn't?

Hoo-hoo. I answer
that in two words:


Hee hee. I am the only
relative he has that's an uncle,

and he wouldn't mention me?

No, that don't make sense.

Heinrich, I brought food.

We're going to have a
marvelous celebration,

and then we all going
to have a lot of laughs.

Here, catch that.

♪ Dee dee dee-dee-doo
da da da-doo ♪

have a little bit
of spritz water.

Sleep tight, boys.

Don't stumble on the way up,

Mr. Gordon.

Heinrich, it's your Uncle
Hansee from Penn...

Oh, hello.

Oh, you must all be friends
of Heinrich's, I guess, huh?

Would you like a little
something to eat I brought?

How about some spritz water?

Oh, what a time
to run outta gas.

How'd you figure
out where I was?

Little bird told me named Gerda.

What's all the fuss about?

Wonderful bird, Gerda.

I wish I could turn
my back on her.

Right there, Artie.

We can reach that.

How's that?

I got it.

Coming down. Go.

Brilliant, Mr. West.

The one point of the compass
where I never thought to look.

Uh, speaking of
things brilliant, uh,

was our comely young
thing part of the plot

when she looked me up?

It really went
very well, didn't it?

Oh, yes.

The bird, Mr. West.

It would be a deplorable mistake

for you to assume that
Gerda won't shoot to kill.

I'm sure she would.

The only thing I'm wondering

is why she permits
you to get the brass ring.

Yes, considering the fact

that she's the only
one carrying a gun.

Ah, yes. Divide and conquer.

Well, it's a bit
heavy-handed, gentlemen,

but at least you're trying.

And, uh, after all,

there's never been
a prize quite like that

since the world began.

We'll take that bird.

Gerda, I forgave you once.

The bird.

And remember what you
said about my shooting.

It's useless, my dear.
You won't get away with it.

Oh, I think I will. You
made one mistake.

You showed me your escape
route on the roof, remember?

Come on.



you have won.

But allow me the final courtesy

of a formal speech
of capitulation.

The moral of all this

is that no sensible sorcerer

should ever have an apprentice.

I stand before you destitute,


and unarmed.

I surrender.

Adieu, my blossom.

The moon was your undoing.

Confess it, sir.

Until this instant,

you didn't believe my story

of the philosopher's
stone, did you?

Dust into dust,

and under dust to lie.

Why Gerda?

Why not this gun, for instance?

Why Gerda?

Something to do with
her soul, I suppose.


Another chapter closed,

another horizon to
turn one's eyes to.

My friends...



Mr. Gordon and I
have come for you.

Have you forgotten that?

You're threatening
me with a golden gun.

I don't think I've
ever been threatened

with a golden gun
before. It's charming.

A golden gun that fires a
golden bullet, Count Manzeppi.

No, gentlemen.

Gerda has been transformed

into a wisp of smoke,

as has the treasure

for which I searched
the world over.

Why not the gun also?

Later, gentlemen. Later,

at my choice of time and place.

I assure you,

we shall meet again.

And until then,
comfort yourselves

with those ageless words

of the Pompeiian
composer Herodotus

Behold, ladies,

24-karat gold leaf,

all that remains of
Miss Gerda Sharff.

Or could it perhaps be
Count Manzeppi's chicken?

You know, Jim, I was thinking.

If we could take
these and expose them

to the same influences
that acted on them originally,

they might be reconstituted

so that they take on
their original structure.

Artie, excuse me, but I'd like
to make two important points.

Number one, we're going
to be late for the theater,

and number two, we
have failed to toast

the world's greatest cook.

Mama Angelina.

You liked it, huh?
You enjoyed it?

Still, there is plenty
more left. Wait.

No, no, that's fine.
Thank you very much.

Come on, girls, let's go.
We're going to be late.

Goodbye and thank you.

Good night, mama,
and thank you again.

You will marry me, won't you?

Oh, such a nice little
chicken. Peck-a-peck-a-peck.

And my little Dominique
will enjoy so much

if I bring it home.