Original subtitles

And so, if I could direct your attention to these

visual aids... you will see that from our

initial supply of 1,000 kilos of cocaine, we...

Hang on, dummy, we had a ton of cocaine.

No, we... Well, we had a tonne, T-O-N-N-E, also known

- as a metric ton, but... - Metric.

- Who uses metric? - Every single country on

the planet except for us, Liberia and Burma.

- Wow, really? - Yup.

'Cause you never think of those other two as

- having their shit together. - Anyway, as you can

- see... - Why are they

thermometers?

I thought they were cocks.

- Wait, they're not? - No... they... are...

- not... cocks! - Okay! Jesus, you people.

Next time, remind me to get shot in the head.

Uh, Ron, next time, get shot in the head.

Sterling, shut up. Cyril, continue.

So, as you can see, we are already down to 125

kilos of cocaine, which was worth about $6 million, so...

And, wait, how much is that in pounds?

Forget pounds! We're doing kilos!

- No, I meant pounds... - Sterling!

Exactly. As in Doctor Who money.

How do you stand there and crack wise when this

- is all your fault? - My fault?

I only lost 44.092 pounds of it, mother.

It's Pam's fault we had to give the Yakuza 100 kilos.

And this other five-- spoiler alert-- she ate!

Yeah, and would now be a good time to talk about Pam's

- cocaine addiction? - Or the inspiring story

of her heroic struggle to finally triumph over it?

- What are you eating? - Yogurt!

Give me that!

- Hey! - Lick it.

Well, can't unhear that.

Holy shit, yogurt is amazing! Why have I never tried yogurt?!

How have you never tried yogurt?

Mmm, I didn't know it was that good.

It's good because it's cocaine!

Oh, my God. And little kids eat it?

Cyril, you said it was locked up.

It is. In the cage in the pantry.

Then how did she get it?

That is it! You're going to rehab.

What?! No, I can't! And you can't make me!

Yeah, is that even necessary?

I think she's in a pretty good place.

She's going and that's final, and...

I swear to God, if you send me to freakin' rehab, I'll

- go right to the cops! - What?!

- Oh, come on. - You wouldn't dare.

Oh, yeah?! Just try...

Goddamn, Woodhouse.

Only thing for a grass, mum.

And, sir, I'm afraid your breakfast will be four minutes late.

Typical.

Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com

What are you doing? Come on. Tighter.

Oh, for the... That's tight enough-- we're not making

- tit bondage porn. - That's a thing?

Oh, yeah.

Ditto. I just don't want her to escape.

You know how strong she is. Might as well be green and

half-deaf. - What if we move the

coke and lock her in the cage till she's clean?

Hey, yeah, sweat it out, like Popeye Doyle.

- How long would that take? - I don't know.

- Couple of weeks? - Try couple of never.

This is Pam we're talking about, the poster child for addictive

personality. What is wrong with you?

I learned it by watching you.

- Oh, my God. - Yeah, spoiler alert.

- So, what do you suggest we do? - We throw her

a party. With an enormous cake!

Cyril, can we spare another five pounds of cocaine?

- Malory! - 2.27 kilograms, then!

Who are you, Thomas Corwin Mendenhall?

- Right? - We're not killing Pam!

- Wait, what? - Jesus. Oh, come on in.

- Make some more noise. - Just 'cause

- now you're the fat one? - Um, I said we were not

- killing her. - Oh.

And, also, this is a baby.

- Ew! - A baby, by the way,

that I did not eat but to which I will give birth.

- Ew! - Right?

Well, if she won't go to rehab and you won't let her

- die with dignity... - From an overdose of

- cocaine cake?! - Oh, please.

Change the word "cocaine" to "Cookie Puss" and that's how her

obituary was going to read anyway.

- What the... - I may have a simply

- elegant solution. - Krieger.

Right? This place is like a Habitrail--

there are secret passages everywhere.

I think that's why the colored maids never felt

safe. They'd be polishing a spittoon

or whatever and suddenly... Grandpa.

Yeah. And dressed up like a

- ghost? - What is it with your

family wearing ghost costumes to scare black people?

What is it with you people making tit bondage

- pornos in my ancestral home?! - Ah, einige

- Tittenfreude, huh? - Ooh, ja.

So what's all this about a solution?

Aha! Yes. And what is on my finger, you

- ask? - I promise you no one is

- asking that. - Well, they should

because this nearly microscopic, wittle-bitty guy is my new and

- improved mind control chip. - Improved?

On the one that made Len Trexler think he was a giant lettuce?

Len Trexler...

Who the hell is Len Trexler?

- Never heard of him. - It's way improved,

and look how tiny. I don't even need a drill-- I

can inject it right through the temple.

- Wait, what are we doing? - Stabbing science into

- your brain. - What?!

It's for your own good, dear.

Yeah, so you don't wind up giving blow jobs in a

bus station toilet. But for cocaine.

No! Let me go!

Krieger, do you think a chip could cure someone of

- stage fright? - No way!

- Noop! - But you could be

- famous. - I could be

- lettuce! - Now, you listen to

me, missy. You are getting a brain chip,

and then you're going on the Grand Old Opera, and I don't

care if it kills you be...

Pam, honey, just calm

down!

Somebody do something!

- Nobody do anything! - Lana...

Lana!

- Krieger! - Yeah, I'm on it.

Ow! Idiot.

- Pam! - Lana...!

This is only somewhat like that old Gypsy

- woman said...! - Lana.

What?! God shit damn it, Archer, what?!

- Um, never mind. - Archer, I s...

The last thing you need right now is a big,

shit-eating "I told you so."

But it's exactly what you deserve.

And, Krieger, I hope you have a lot more where this came from

- because... - Super.

Hunting women to force them to have surgery against their will.

It's for Pam's own good.

She'll die if she doesn't quit eating cocaine.

And who's gonna die if you don't get rich managing

- Cheryl's singing career? - Maybe you.

Now, get out there and have some fun!

How could we not?

Woodhouse, I swear to God, if you tell me lunch is four

- minutes late... - No, sir.

There's a Mr. Holly here. Sorry, an Agent Holly.

From the FBI.

But lunch is still a firm twelve.

Firm twelve.

You know, as in inches? Jesus, .3048 meters.

Hi. Welcome to Nazi Canada!

Eh?

- Why is the FBI here? - Did he show you a warrant?

No, sir, he...

Then tell him to go piss off-- he can't come inside

- without a warrant. - He...

Well, unless you invite him in.

He's not a vampire, idiot.

- If... - Plus it's daytime.

If invited in, law enforcement can enter your home

without a warrant. Once inside, under the doctrine

of "plain view," anything illegal-- say, a truckload of

cocaine in the kitchen-- can be lawfully seized as evidence.

They can also enter a private residence under any number of

exigent circumstances, like providing emergency assistance

to an occupant, say, if they heard someone screaming...

- Good morning. - No, sir, good day.

I insist that you leave immediately, as you have entered

- this residence unlawfully. - Uh, you want to jump

- in here, Yoda's dad? - I invited him in.

- Woodhouse! - And once you do that,

you know, we are in. Not unlike vampires.

- See? - What?

Be that as it may, why are you here?

Oh, just checking in, making sure you folks aren't

engaging in treason, espionage or anything else illegal.

Well, I can assure you...

- Like drugs. - Hmm?

- Cocaine? - Nope.

- Yakuza? Mm-mm.

- Shootout? - Noop.

No one here was shot by the Yakuza?

Well, I think we'd remember that.

Then what's his problem?

- Vasectomy. - Piles.

- Gout. - Mumps.

- Goutmumps? - Progeria!

- He's just a little boy. - But whatever is wrong

- with him... - Goutmumps.

...is none of your business, and since nothing in

plain view would lead a reasonable person to suspect

illegal activity, I demand that you...

Nobody move!

- Well?! - They can also

- do what's known as a... - Protective sweep...!

Case law regarding search-and-seizure is actually

- quite interesting... - What... about... the

cocaine?

...admissible as evidence but only if he sees

- it. - So we have to

keep him out of the kitchen. All right, fan out!

Agent Holly is the prime target, but...

So, just so we're clear, you want us to

- tranquilize a federal agent. - Do you have a better

- idea? - I do not.

Then we just slap some panties and rouge on him,

pose him with Gillette-- whose fault this is!-- make some

- glossy 8x10s... - I'll do it!

- I have a camera! Dibs! - And then I doubt

we'll be hearing from Agent Holly in the future.

Or you could pose him with Woodhouse.

- What? - God

knows he's a little GILF.

- That's a thing?! - How do you not know

- the different kinds of porn? - Because I have sex

with actual women, Cyril! My girlfriend's not equal parts

the Internet, a tube of Kentucky jelly, self-loathing and a sock!

Tell that to your cellmate!

- Now, go! - You

- scared the shit out of me! - What,

- literally? - Seriously, dude, what is

- up with you? - I could

walk, and now I can't, and ain't nobody loves ol' Ray no more.

Well, yeah,

you're disgusting. But, you, I am totally digging

this whole Queen Kong vibe.

My God, are they...

torturing a woman? Hang on, ma'am!

I'm a federal agent, and I'm coming!

- By God, I am coming! - Okay, you three head

- upstairs... - Hang on.

I'm going to the kitchen to make sure he doesn't

- stumble onto the coke. - Hang on.

- What? - Question.

- What? - Are we not saying

"phrasing" anymore? Which, that's fine, whatever,

but if we're doing a new thing and nobody told me-- that I'd

- have a problem with. - Oh, screw me!

Said Ripley to the android Bishop.

Wait, hang on. Um... Goddamn it!

- What was wrong with "phrasing"?! - Nothing!

I'm fine. Just get out, leave me alone!

I just need to be sure you're not being held here

against your... That is a federal offense!

- I said, get out...! - Oh, hey, remind me

to reboot the CPU in Ray's spine so he can walk again.

What? A reboot-- that's all it takes?!

- Beep boop. - He's been paralyzed

for months. What the hell have you been

- waiting for?! - Yeah, but think how

- much happier he'll be now. Or-- and I'm just

spitballin' here-- I find Holly first, show him the coke, get

immunity, testify against them, then you and I go into witness

protection and spend the rest of our miserable lives on the run,

hounded by the fact that we betrayed our friends.

Ugh! Or I get arrested and give birth

in a supermax prison and... Oh, wait.

Does the baby grow up in prison, or...?

Oh. Hello, old friend.

- What the shit, Archer?! - Hang on.

I knew you'd shoot without looking.

Oh, really, you know me that well?!

Uh, well enough to know you're down here wondering

if witness protection ever sends people to the Virgin Islands.

Well, in case you'd forgotten, I have an unborn

- child to think about! - Jesus Christ, Lana,

who can forget? It's baby this, baby that.

Aw, Baby Archer, who's a jeawous baby?

What?! Holy shit, do you have anemia?

- No, I... - Uh, edema,

hypertension, preeclampsia, Braxton-Hicks contractions,

- pica?! - I...

GERD?! Lana, do you have GERD?!

How do you know about

the various possible complications of pregnancy?

- Archer? - Maybe I looked it up.

- Why? - I was concerned about

you. Blow me!

Just making sure you're not into preggo porn.

Oh, goddamn it! That can't be a thing!

It is absolutely a thing, and do you just not have

- the Internet, or...? - I have Minitel, okay?

A: not the Internet, B: only works in...

France, Lana. Oui, maintenant je sais!

Okay, um, thanks for your concern, and I don't know

what you think you heard about witness protection, but...

They don't make babies grow up in prison, Lana.

- Yeah, right? - They take them away

the minute they're born and send them to an orphanage.

No, not the minute they're...

That very minute, Lana!

They don't even dry them off!

So if I were you, I'd run out that door while I still had a

- chance. But-but, Archer, I...

I'd also waste five precious minutes of my head

start in the race to freedom giving that swell guy Archer a

combination good-bye/thank-you blow job.

- Asshole. - Yeah, or a rim job.

What do you care? You're never gonna see him

- again. - I can't.

I know. I was kidding, stupid.

I mean I can't leave you, stupid!

This is the FBI!

- Open this door! - Well, not now...

stupid. And so, wait.

Where did we land on that blow job?

Sorry, rim job.

Do you hear me?! Open this door!

Obstructing... a federal agent... is a felony...

punishable... Ow!

...by up to 20 years imprisonment, if said

obstruction results in the bodily injury of said agent,

which I think may have just happened to said agent's-- ow!--

rotator cuff. Aah!

- 20 years?! - Lana, look at all

that coke! 20 years is just gonna be the

Bac-Os on our prison salad. Besides, technically, Woodhouse

- is the one obstructing. - Archer!

Relax. They don't send people that old to prison.

It costs, like, two grand a day just to keep them alive.

- I'm talking about us! - Hmm. I don't know.

A hundred bucks? Depends who you ask, Lana.

Liberals say this much, conservatives say this much...

So, now you're just dicking around?

- Yes. - Between the FBI and a

- ton of cocaine. - Yes.

So, can I assume you have a plan?

Yes. I mean, I don't, but you can

assu... Ow! Ow!

Ow! Ow! Ow!

- I'm coming! - Said Ripley to... Ow!

- Goddamn it, woman! - Come on!

- Why are you slowing down?! - Need... got to...

- More cocaine. - So, please

don't take this the wrong way-- because I'm loving being your

Esmeralda-- but you may have a problem.

And it sounds like the solution is more cocaine, so turn left up

- there. - But why are you

leaving? They can't compel a husband and

wife to testify against each other!

Oh, yeah? They may not have to compel me.

And what is that

- supposed to mean?! - Oh, why don't you ask

that guy you never heard of, Len Trexler?

How can I? I've never heard of him.

You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you on the ass

- and held on, would you? - Ron, wait!

- What?! - Well, if you insist

on being an ass, I can't stop you, but there is the small

matter of my putting the deed to my apartment in your name.

Ah, Ah, it's your loss!

I'll mail you your furs.

Don't you dare! At the very least, I insist on a

bonded courier! Ron?!

Ow!

Lana, cut it... Ow! Ow!

- Ow! Ow! - What's this door made

- out of, mithril? - Ow!

Just once, why can't you take...

- Ow! - ...anything seriously

- just once? - Ow! I was serious

about that rim jo... Ow! Seriously, please stop hitting

me. What the...?

- Oh, thank God! - Cyril? Wait.

- How did you...? - This house is

- insane. - And scary, and gross,

and I'm pretty sure I smelled a skeleton.

No, you definitely smelled a skeleton.

- Well, this is great! - How?!

- I inhaled skeleton! - Because now the coke...

...is getting eaten by Pam!

Quick, make the wall spin around again!

It just kind of spun by itself!

Jesus Christ, have you people never even heard of

- Scooby-Doo? - Oh, come on!

- Of course. - Uh... Pam?

Aw, crap.

Oh, my

God. That's so freakin' unsafe.

Okay, Krieger, Cyril, get in there, and we'll spin you

- back around. Archer... - Why do I have to go

- back in there?! - Because I said so!

Yeah, plus skeletons?

- Archer? - Got it.

- Oh! Goddamn it! - Ooh!

- Goddamn it. - Godspeed, you

- meddling kids. - And sir,

I'm afraid your breakfast will be four minutes late.

Yeah, duh. I already berated you.

Woodhouse, get away from the door!

- Hmm? Oh! - Goddamn it!

Just what do you people think the letters FBI stand for?

I bought a T-shirt once where it stood for "Female

Body Inspector." God, is Myrtle Beach not the

- best? - Pull a stunt like this

again, you'll never make it back to Myrtle Beach.

I probably wasn't going to anyway.

Turns out it's actually not the best.

And you actually have no right to search this house.

As you can see, there's nothing illegal going on.

Maybe not now, but I know you still have a lot of

international contacts from your ISIS days.

Mexico, Colombia, the Orient. I bet it wouldn't be too hard to

- get set up in the drug trade. - Well,

- you'd be surp... Oh! - We're not drug dealers,

- Agent Holly. - Good, because I'll be

watching you... like a hawk that's been bred with an eagle

to produce some sort of... eagle-eyed superhawk... with a

badge.

So, am I crazy, or is he super weird?

Oh, well, I'm torn, Lana, I really am.

I want to say "both," but I also don't want you to stop my heart

- again, so... - Who's da widdle baby?

Who's da widdle baby? Who's da widdle baby?

- Yes, he is, widdle, little baby! - Wait. The brain chip

- is in there? - I told you it was

- small. - Said Ripley to the...

- No, doesn't work there. - Yeah, it's crap.

Okay, I actually only have one brain chip, so... who's our

- lucky winner? - Hmm. I guess we have

to decide if we want regular lame Cheryl and a Pam who's not

gonna overdose on cocaine and die, or potentially famous

country singer Cheryl and a Pam who... tits.

- Flip a coin? - No.

And, yeah, he's a weirdo, but I think Agent

Holly's right. We do have a lot of

- international connections. - So, I'm thinking I

should take a trip down old Mexico way, maybe Colombia, or

even Southeast Asia, or... Hey, where's Ron?

- Never heard of him. - Um...

Lana, let it go. Jesus.

But maybe we should try to sell out to an

international cartel. But let me be clear.

You won't be gallivanting around under the pretense of work just

to visit the fleshpots of the world.

- This isn't ISIS. - No, I...

And it definitely isn't your semester abroad.

What?! Come on, that's...

Hey, I don't think we need to go into all the...

Cobra whiskey and ladyboys. I mean...

- Ha! - Shut up.

You shut up! And Krieger?

I trust the brain-chip implant was a success?

I think. I mean, it's in there, and she's alive.

Now we just have to see if t were any adverse side effects.

Uh... Cheryl?

Nah, Cheryl's gone.

I'm Cherlene now. And if somebody don't fry me six

goddamn eggs and some Carolina fries, I would personally be

shocked-- shocked, I tell you-- if by mornin' this place ain't

burnt to the ground.

And I'm not a doctor, but...

I mean, I'm definitely a doctor, so... no, I think we're good.

Yup, yup, yup.

Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com