Original subtitles

>> MALORY (sighs): Ruined.

Completely...

>> ARCHER: Mother, come on,

we're not...

>> MALORY: Shut up.

And utterly...

>> ARCHER: We're not...

>> MALORY: Shut up. And ruined!

>> ARCHER: We're not "ruined,"

Camille.

We've got 2,000 pounds

of cocaine.

>> LANA: Minus the 20 kilos

you sold for Monopoly money, oh,

minus however much Pam ate,

probably two kilos.

>> PAM: Or three, or whatever.

>> ARCHER: Quit eating all the

goddamn cocaine!

>> PAM: Make me!

(Archer yells)

>> ARCHER: My point, unless Pam

ate it, is that things could be

a lot worse.

>> MALORY: How?

You sold a million dollars of

product for this worthless stack

of paper.

How could it be any worse?

(groans)

>> CYRIL: I, uh, hate to agree

with Archer, but it could be

worse-- these are actually

really good fakes.

I mean, not good enough to

deposit in a bank, but...

>> ARCHER: Good enough to pass

in, say, a deli?

>> CYRIL: Yeah, I guess, but...

>> ARCHER: Shut up.

So you take a hundred,

go buy a pack of gum, and walk

out with $99.50 in change.

>> CYRIL: Hey, that's brilliant,

Archer.

>> ARCHER: Yeah, plus gum?

>> CYRIL: So you're gonna do

that 10,000 times?

>> ARCHER: Well, not me

personally.

>> MALORY: Not anyone

personally; it's idiotic.

What we need is a big-ticket

item.

>> PAM: Like a big bag

of cocaine!

>> LANA: The last thing we need

is more cocaine.

>> PAM: Disagree.

>> LANA: Because you are

addicted to cocaine.

>> PAM: Your words.

>> ARCHER: Hey, wait a second,

I've got the perfect big-ticket

item-- Cadillacs!

>> RON: Nope.

>> ARCHER: Let me finish.

>> RON: Oh, I'm sorry, please,

uh, skip ahead to the part where

I'm out 50 Caddies with your

counterfeit money in the one

hand and my schlong in

the other.

>> ARCHER: Well, not now.

You ruined it.

>> MALORY: The mental image

alone.

>> LANA: And besides, what

were you planning to do with

50 Cadillacs?

>> ARCHER: Um, open a

dealership?

What? Ron's done very well.

>> MALORY: Speaking of,

why aren't you at work?

>> RON: Everything's on

autopilot.

There's nothing for me to do.

I am so bored.

>> PAM: Have you tried cocaine?

>> RON: No, no, nah.

Smoked a reefer cigarette once.

>> LANA: Uh, let me guess, with

some Negroes?

>> RON: As luck would have it.

>> CYRIL: What about guns?

>> RON: No, no, they seemed

nice, jazz cats.

>> CYRIL: No, why don't we buy

guns?

I mean, I assume rival drug

dealers aren't gonna be too

happy with us...

>> LANA: And since the FBI

seized all the ISIS weapons when

they took the building.

>> ARCHER: Oh, my God.

All we have now is my Walther

and what, Lana, your TEC-9's?

>> LANA: Yeah, for which I have

no ammo.

>> ARCHER: What?

>> LANA: I used to get it from

work.

>> ARCHER: Okay, if we're doing

a list?

Bullets.

>> MALORY: Oh for... Sterling,

Lana, go through the old ISIS

files and find an arms dealer.

Cyril, go lock up the product

before Cokie Monster here

gobbles it all up, and Ron, take

me to lunch.

>> RON: It's 8:30 in

the morning.

>> MALORY: A bar, then!

Whatever!

Ooh, or maybe a jazz club.

We can smoke reefers with these

Negroes you're suddenly so nuts

about.

>> RON: It was 1940!

>> CYRIL And where am I supposed

to lock up 2,000 pounds

of cocaine?

>> ARCHER: Cyril, look around.

Somewhere in this mansion, I

have to assume, is a gigantic,

Scrooge McDuckian vault.

>> PAM: Scrooge McDuck, eh?

(gobbling cocaine)

(coughs)

Sweater.

>> MALORY: All right.

Where are we?

Lana, did you find an

arms dealer?

>> LANA: Mmm, no, all we've got

so far is Spyridon Skorpio

and Conway Stern.

>> CYRIL: Geez, those are old

files.

>> LANA: One of whom we blew

up, the other of whom's hand we

gruesomely ripped off.

>> ARCHER: And both of whom

bring up extremely uncomfortable

sexual memories for...

uh, 40% to 60% of the people in

this room.

>> MALORY: Hmph.

Oh, what about Ray's brother,

the pot farmer?

He had lots of guns.

>> LANA: Yeah, he's doing life

in prison.

>> RAY: Now, that's the song

you should write.

>> CHERYL/CAROL: Ugh, or maybe

one about a crippled cyborg, who

all he did was pussy-ache about

being a crippled cyborg!

(Ray cries)

>> MALORY: Well, keep looking.

And, Cyril, you've got the

product under lock and key?

>> CYRIL: Yup, in the kitchen

pantry.

There's no Scrooge McDucky

vault.

>> MALORY: No what?

>> ARCHER: Uh, how about an

old-timey gymnasium full of

Indian clubs and medicine balls?

>> WOODHOUSE: Hello?

I've finished!

>> CYRIL: There is one of those.

>> MALORY: Oh, and it was a good

idea to lock up all the

counterfeit money.

>> CYRIL: Yeah, good job,

whoever did that.

>> LANA: Wait, did you not?

>> CYRIL: Mmm, no, I...

>> MALORY: What?

Well, where the hell is it?

>> PAM: Welp!

I've got good news and good

news.

>> MALORY: Amphetamines?!

>> PAM: Right?

And I know it sounds crazy, but

I like them as much as cocaine.

>> MALORY: Where did you get

them?

>> PAM: Okay, okay, okay, so

remember how I used to

drift-race with the Yakuza?

>> ARCHER: The Yakuza?

>> PAM: Hai.

>> MALORY: What, were the

Hells Angels busy?

>> PAM: Busy being pussies.

You know, relatively.

When compared to the deadly and

terrible Yakuza.

>> ARCHER: Yeah, and on a

related note, Pam, what do you

think's gonna happen when they

realize the money is

counterfeit?

>> PAM: Oh, my God, right?

Can you imagine?

>> LANA: Yes, Pam, we can.

>> CYRIL: Oh, my God, they chop

off their own fingers.

>> MALORY: Do they know how to

find you?

>> PAM: Um...

Well, they know I work at ISIS,

but that won't do them any good.

>> MALORY: Well, thank...

>> PAM: Although...

Whooooo!

Domo arigato, fellas.

Two of them have been

to my apartment.

You, too, Ojiisan.

Or three, or whatever.

>> ARCHER: Oh, Jesus Christ.

Can the mind vomit?

>> PAM: But now I live here,

so...

>> MALORY: Well, thank God,

the...

>> PAM: Although...

>> YAKUZA TOUGH: Hmm?

>> YAKUZA TOUGH 2: Hmm.

Hmm-hmm.

Mmm, mm-hmm.

(laughs)

>> ARCHER: Ugh, yes, the mind

can, in fact, vomit.

(phone ringing)

(gobbling pills)

>> PAM: I'm not here.

(phone ringing)

>> WOODHOUSE: Oh, dear God.

Telephone clanging away, and me

trapped.

It's a good servant's worst

nightmare.

I don't know how this could

possibly be any wor...

(doorbell ringing)

Oh.

>> KRIEGER: Hey, so, did

somebody order Chinese?

>> MALORY: They're Japanese,

you idiot!

(groaning)

>> KRIEGER: Oh, for... I don't

get all pissy every time

you mistake a Dutchman

for a Swede!

Either time that happened!

(phone rings)

>> CHERYL/CAROL: Answer the

goddamn telephone!

>> GILLETTE: Now, there's

your song!

>> PAM: No!

>> MALORY: Answer it!

>> PAM: Make me!

(sobbing): Holy shitsnacks.

>> LANA: I will break both of

your collarbones, and then pull

them out of your body,

and then use them to play,

in its entirety and on your

head, "Moby Dick."

>> KRIEGER: Bonham's a pussy.

>> HOLOGRAM: Maybe you pussy!

>> LANA: Pam?

(Pam clears throat)

>> PAM (posh accent): Hello?

>> MOTO: Shiro kabocha.

>> PAM (gasps): It's Mr. Moto!

>> MOTO: Shiro kabocha,

I am very ashamed...

Your new home is so beautiful,

but I did not bring

a housewarming gift.

>> PAM: Hey, you know what?

Don't even sweat it,

because... Hmm?

Hai. Hai.

Hai. Mm-kay, bye.

>> ARCHER: Wait-- didn't you

shoot that guy?

>> MALORY: Oh, who remembers?

Well, what did he say?

>> PAM: Well, he's not happy,

obviously, and he wants his

drugs back, and that guy

who sold 'em to me's not

gonna be playing the violin any

time soon.

>> ARCHER: Because?

>> PAM: Because a violin would

probably dissolve in the same

big drum of acid they dissolved

that guy in.

>> ALL: Ew!

>> LANA: But if all Moto wants

is his drugs...

>> MALORY: Then he can give us

a refund.

>> LANA: Of worthless

counterfeit money?

>> CYRIL: It's not exactly

worthless.

The right buyer would probably

pay about 15 cents on the dollar

for it.

Why didn't you say that?!

>> CYRIL: Uh, I don't know.

I assumed you knew.

>> RON: Everybody knows that.

>> MALORY: Ron?!

>> LANA: I say screw the money.

Let's just give Moto his drugs

and be glad we dodged

this giant metaphorical bullet.

>> ARCHER: Hey, and where are we

on that list?

>> LANA: Malory?

>> MALORY: Oh, all right!

We obviously can't go to war

with the Yakuza.

>> ARCHER: Uh, not without

normal-size, non-metaphorical

bullets.

>> MALORY: But, Pam, if there

ever are any, this comes out

of your share of the profits.

(Pam sobs)

How is that not fair?

>> PAM: Moto doesn't just want

the pills...!

He also wants my

heh-heh-heh-head!

Non-metaph-phuh-phuh-phuh-phuh-

>> ARCHER: ...phorically

speaking, Pam, we got it.

>> CYRIL: Wait-- he's still

gonna kill you?

>> LANA Even if you give back

the pills?

>> PAM: Yes!

>> LANA: Oh, hey, hey, shh.

Come on. We're not gonna let the

Yakuza kill you.

>> MALORY: Although...

(Pam sobs loudly)

>> CHERYL/CAROL: Christ on

drums, people! What?!

>> ARCHER: Pam screwed the

Yakuza out of a million bucks

of amphetamines, so now they're

gonna cut her head off.

>> CHERYL/CAROL: Wait--

>> RON: You had breakfast here?!

>> MALORY: Ron!

>> LANA: And apparently, they've

got your house completely

surrounded, so...

>> CHERYL/CAROL: So call

the police.

>> MALORY: Ooh, good idea, and

when they get here, we can show

them the drugs we bought

with the counterfeit money we

got from selling cocaine.

Oh, and by the way, Officer,

there's another 2,000

pounds of it in the pantry!

>> CHERYL/CAROL: So, then

pay them!

>> MALORY: With what?!

>> CHERYL/CAROL: $1 million!

Yes, real dollars.

Duh, look at my house.

I bet I got rugs worth a...

Ugh! Fine, $2 million.

Okay, $5 million.

Fine, $10 million!

$50 million!

A jillion million!

Jesus! Be more gross

and Chinese-y!

(sad trombone melody plays)

>> ARCHER (laughs): Been waiting

forever to use that.

(Pam sobs)

>> LANA: Why did you insult him?

>> CHERYL/CAROL: A, "Chinese-y"

is not an insult.

>> ARCHER: Mm, no.

>> CYRIL: No, it totally is.

>> RON: Not to a Chinaman.

>> CHERYL/CAROL: And B,

which is, like, so un-Chinesey,

he doesn't even care

He said it's a debt of honor,

and it can only be paid with

Pam's blood. (Pam sobs)

And since I can't write a

genre-defining country song

with you people screaming

about a horde of Chinese

daylight vampires, who are

probably scuttling up the drain

pipes even as we speak,

go out there and kill them!

>> ARCHER: Don't even get me

started on that.

>> LANA: How about get started

on that list?

>> ARCHER: I'm not

your secretary, Lana!

We don't really have weapons

or ammo.

>> CHERYL/CAROL: You're

shitting me.

>> ARCHER: Mm, no.

>> CHERYL/CAROL: Ugh!

>> ARCHER: Whoa, I stand

extremely corrected.

>> CHERYL/CAROL: Yeah, and

they're all loaded.

This was the best house to be a

kid in.

>> ARCHER: Mmm, yeah, and so...

anything post-World War I?

>> CHERYL/CAROL: I don't know.

I think Grandpapa lost interest

once he filled the Museum of

Natural History with

dead animals.

Then he got real big into model

trains, and then it was a sort

of very long, sad slide into

dementia, and ultimately,

into death.

And the whole time he was

screwing the asses off all the

colored maids. (gasps)

No, that's a terrible

country song.

>> ARCHER: Here's your country

song right here!

(mimics wailing guitar solo)

>> LANA: Have you ever heard

a country song?

>> ARCHER: Um, "Danger Zone"?

>> LANA: Okay, listen up, there

are way too many windows and

doors to cover, so we need

to concentrate on chokepoints.

(squealing laughter)

Not that kind of chokepoints.

Chokepoints as in junctions,

like the main foyer, the

kitchen, the top of the

grand staircase, the...

>> MALORY: What are you doing?

Here.

>> RON: Noop...

>> MALORY: What do you mean,

"noop"?

Take it!

>> RON: Woman, I am not getting

in a shootout with the

goddamn Yakuza because you

people decided to steal

their drugs!

>> MALORY: Well, I support you

in your work!

Not that you ever do any, but...

>> RON: If you were honest with

yourself, you would realize

I have been incredibly

supportive of you!

Get arrested for treason,

I stand by you; become

a drug dealer, I stand by you.

Oh-oh-oh! And you don't seem to

mind driving around

in a new Cadillac, do you?

>> MALORY: A floor model.

>> RON: Oh, for...

(loud crash)

What the...?

>> MALORY: Sterling?!

What in the...?!

>> MOTO: Hell does he think

he is doing?

>> ARCHER: Going Josh Randall on

these dicks!

Cheryl, build a fire and get

some pokers hot!

(Cheryl/Carol squeals)

>> LANA: Yeah, great, start

shooting.

I can't wait to meet every cop

in Manhattan.

>> ARCHER: Ugh, right, damn.

Hey, Carol, you got any

old-timey silencers?

>> LANA: Silence, yes, aspire to

that while I think of a plan.

Okay, Cheryl... (glass breaks)

Goddamn it, Archer!

>> ARCHER: I didn't do it!

I was just...

>> MALORY: Wha... Ron?!

(Ron groans)

Ron!

>> PAM (laughs): Talk about a

floor model.

Oh, come on, we were all

thinking it.

>> ARCHER: Get down!

(all grunting)

>> MOTO: Tadashi, what is wrong

with you?!

You shoot like an old

blind woman!

You bring shame on your family!

(sad trombone melody plays)

>> RON: Oh, my God, the

darkness, babe, I'm slipping

into the darkness!

>> MALORY: They're just

pulling the drapes!

>> RON: Still, though... (gasps)

And what is this?

An ocelot pelt?!

>> ARCHER: Wait, what?!

>> MALORY: It was all

I could find!

>> ARCHER: Oh, my God,

if that's Babou...!

>> CHERYL/CAROL: Ugh, I wish.

He's around here somewhere,

either puking or pissing on

something I care about.

>> LANA: Hey, so...

Ron's gonna die?

>> CHERYL/CAROL: Wait, Ron's

gonna die?!

>> RON: Aah, the darkness!

>> LANA: Especially if he goes

into shock, which is why I'm

speaking quietly.

>> CHERYL/CAROL: Smart.

>> LANA: We have to get him to a

hospital, so are you sure

there's no other way out of here

besides the front door?

Like, maybe a helicopter pad,

or...?

>> CHERYL/CAROL: The only thing

I can think of is all the

secret tunnels.

(Lana swallows)

>> LANA: I'm sorry?

>> CHERYL/CAROL: Yeah, they go

everywhere.

My... I want to say my

great-great-great-uncle?

He built them trying to tap into

the Underground Railroad.

>> LANA: Wait, did he think it

was literally...?

>> CHERYL/CAROL: A subterranean

railroad, yeah, so...

>> PAM: So why'd he build a

bunch of tunnels?

>> CHERYL/CAROL: To capture

runaway slaves and sell them

back to their rightful owners.

>> PAM: Wow.

>> LANA: Ugh, whatever, can

we...?

>> CHERYL/CAROL: I want to say

his plan was to dress like a

ghost?

>> LANA: Can we get Ron

to a hospital?

>> CHERYL/CAROL: Oh, totally.

And then this one here goes all

the way up to Lenox Hill

Hospital.

>> LANA: Jesus, that's like a

mile.

>> CHERYL/CAROL: Yeah, you don't

want to walk that, so I'd come

up around here and get a cab.

That'll be way quicker.

Plus I bet there's mole people.

>> CYRIL: Okay, I think her

point was, with all this, your

great-whatever uncle must have

really wanted to catch some

slaves.

>> CHERYL/CAROL: Oh, it

bankrupted him, and the crazy

part, is this was, like, 1890.

>> MALORY: Will you hurry up?

We're losing him.

(Ron moans)

>> ARCHER: Ron, shut up!

Okay, Carol, you know the

tunnels, you lead the group.

Cyril and Pam, you carry Ron.

Lana...

>> PAM: Why do I have to carry

him?

>> ARCHER: Because remember

before when this whole goddamn

thing was your fault?!

>> PAM: Just asking.

>> ARCHER: Lana and Mother, you

should go with them, because my

plan may not work.

>> MALORY: What plan?

>> ARCHER: Okay, this tunnel

here tees into a utility tunnel

right in front of the house.

>> LANA: So...?

>> ARCHER: So I need my slightly

darker-black black suit.

Woodhouse!

Goddamn it, where the hell

is he?

>> WOODHOUSE: Slowly dying, for

all anyone cares.

But the saddest part is

no one does.

>> ARCHER: Oh, who cares?

(Ron moans)

>> PAM: Aw, quit your literal

bellyaching.

>> LANA: Yeah, I'm staying.

Because if your plan is what I

think it is, you are totally

gonna need rescuing.

>> ARCHER: No, I'm not, Lana, so

shut your dicktrap.

(laughs)

But if I do, I-I apologize for

that remark, and ask that you

definitely do rescue me.

Or avenge me as appropriate.

>> MALORY: That's it, I'm

staying, too.

>> RON: What?

You're picking him over me?

>> MALORY: Oh, for... It's not a

competition, Ron!

He's my child.

But seriously?

A floor model?

>> RON: Aw!

What are you people, hourly?

Let's go here.

(moaning)

(Archer chuckling)

>> LANA (sighs): Are you

laughing at "dicktrap"?

(Archer laughs loudly)

>> ARCHER: Uh-huh, but

seriously, though, if it comes

down to it, please do rescue me.

>> PAM: Okay!

Sorry!

I'm walking backwards here.

>> RON: God, you're killing me

here is what you're doing.

>> CYRIL: Just try to stay calm.

>> CHERYL/CAROL: Yeah, chill

out, Ray got shot in the stomach

and he's, like, totally fine.

(snoring)

(groans)

(snoring)

>> CYRIL: Here we go, stepping

it up! Hey-oh!

(Ron yelling)

>> ARCHER: Jesus, Ron, man up.

I've been shot...

holy shit, 26 times?

Can't be good for me.

I mean, in gangster movies,

they're always like...

"He got a bad case of

lead poisoning, see!"

But think about it, every

bullet's got to leave at least a

teeny bit of residual lead in

your body, right?

Shit.

By the time I'm 60, I bet I'll

be mad as a goddamn hatter.

(grunts)

>> LANA: I don't believe it.

He made it.

>> MALORY: You never give him

enough credit.

And honestly, not your best

trait.

You may want to work on that,

since you'll be a mother soon.

Unless...

well, I suppose that all depends

on what kind of mother you want

to be.

>> ARCHER: Uh...

Konnichiwa?

Hmm?

The door-san?

(man grunts)

Thanks, Kato!

(both grunting)

(Moto yells in Japanese)

>> MOTO: Yoshi!

(yells)

>> ARCHER: I'm sorry, uh, Yoshi

is indisposed.

>> MOTO: You!

>> ARCHER: Me.

Scrooch!

>> MOTO: You must know...

>> ARCHER: Hang on.

(coughs)

Oh, God.

Sorry, I don't want to get a

dry socket.

>> MOTO: You must know that even

if you kill me, the Yakuza will

never forgive this debt of

honor.

They will kill...

(yells)

>> ARCHER: Right?

That's so bad for your ears.

But I get it, the Bushido code,

the whole Japanese thing, I get

it, but...

>> MOTO: What do you know about

being Japanese?

>> ARCHER: I guess only the

clichés, really.

Karaoke, pachinko, subway

frottage...

>> MOTO: Enough!

>> ARCHER: Hang on.

Uh, tentacle porn, uh...

>> MOTO: Enough!

>> ARCHER: Hang on!

Those vending machines that sell

used schoolgirl panties.

Okay, done.

Now, here's what I propose.

>> MOTO: You dare to propose...

>> ARCHER: I swear to God I can

do that all day.

I mean, to me, it sounds like

bubble wrap.

>> MOTO: What is your proposal?

>> ARCHER: I know the Yakuza

will hunt us down forever, but I

bet ycan forgive the debt of

honor, right?

>> MOTO: Only if blood has been

shed.

>> ARCHER: Well, my stepfa...

my mother's husband is about a

quart low-- you shot him.

So I'm thinking you take back

all... well, almost all the

pills-- Pam ate a bunch, and I'm

not gonna lie to you, I had a

couple, or six-- plus you keep

the counterfeit million.

>> MOTO: But...

>> ARCHER: Plus if you don't,

I'll kill you.

Probably should have led with

that.

(Moto grunts)

>> MOTO: I must accept.

But I cannot lose mentsu.

What you call "face."

My men must think this was my

decision.

That you somehow

"sweetened the deal."

>> ARCHER (yawns): Well, at this

point, the reds are wearing off

and the bourbon's kicking in,

so, uh, you can pretty much name

it.

(Moto grunts)

(Moto speaking Japanese)

(Archer laughs)

>> ARCHER: That is so true.

>> MALORY: That was Cyril.

Ron's in surgery, but the bullet

missed everything, and his

prognosis is excellent.

>> LANA: Oh, my God, that's

great, so...

>> ARCHER: So win-win!

>> MALORY: Wha..? Win-win?

>> ARCHER: Ow!

>> LANA: Malory.

>> MALORY: A gut-shot husband

and an idiot son who just

gave away $5 million

worth of cocaine?

I call that a lose-lose-lose!

(sad trombone melody begins)

(melody abruptly stops)

(Archer laughing)

What could possibly

be funny?

>> ARCHER (laughing): The phone!

It was Woodhouse's!

Captioned by

Media Access Group at WGBH

access.wgbh.org

>> MAN: Made... in Georgia.