All language subtitles for Digman.S01E01.WEBRip.x264-XEN0N

Mount Quiquaran.

One of history's most
lethal supervolcanos.

In 200 BC, a series
of deadly eruptions

had decimated the local tribe.

So the elders turned to the
great artisan Tiliktakorkatan,

who sculpted an
offering to the gods...

the Molten Idol.

- It's beautiful.
- And yet...

not so beautiful as
you, love of my life,

keeper and tender-to
of my loins.

I thought it'd be
more impressive.

Because you have no appreciation
for true beauty, Zane!

You know, legend has it
that removing the idol

will cause Quiquaran to erupt.

'Tis true. But as we
all know, legends...

are rarely... real.

Oh, fuck, I don't want to die!

Get the fuck out of the way!

I guess that legend was real.

Shut the fuck up, Zane.

Swooper, get us out of here!

No can do, boss.

That volcano's hotter
than Andy Capp's wife

when he's been out
at the pub all night.

Meet me on the other
side of the jungle.

But that jungle's filled with...

Corpus floraria.

- The death flower.
- The death flower.

Jesus, Zane, don't interrupt me.

That bird got bonked. Uh-oh.

Looks like the
natives are restless.

Hello, I'm an attorney

representing the
Mondonesian tribe.

We respectfully ask that you
don't steal the Molten Idol

as it's a culturally sig...

We're off the hook!

And we'll never have to
think about the questions

they were raising
or ponder the ethics

of what we're doing ever again.

Power slide!

Everybody lay a patch or we'll
be riding the pale horse.

Nobody understands
your old-timey lingo.

That's horsefeathers!

Bella! Whip!

Don't panic, the
death flower's poison

takes 30 minutes to set in.

There's a hospital with the
antidote ten minutes from here.

Thank God. I wouldn't be
able to live without you.

I can't die yet, babe.

I still haven't seen The Artis.

Oh, man, it looks so good.

I can't imagine a better
movie will come out in 2011.

The current year? Yeah. I agree.

All right.

- Enough 2011 talk.
- Zane.

What the hell are you doing?

Oh, I'm taking the idol.

It'll be my first acquisition
as the new head arky of The Met.

But we work for the Smithsonian.

Not anymore, Rippy.

I'm sick of you
treating me like shit.

What? You're the best
inferior I've ever had.

I always tell you that!

Consider this my resignation.

Fuck that, you're fired.

Fine. Have fun paying
my unemployment.

No, no, no, you quit,
everyone heard it.

Follow that speedboat.

You sure? You
don't look so good.

The important thing is the idol.

We have enough time to grab it

and get to the hospital.

Whip! Swooper, I'm
out of whip range.

We got to get
closer. Whip! Whip!

Almost got him.

Oh, I can't see anything.

Did you get the idol?

Yeah, I got it, babe.

I'm dying, Rip.

Goodbye, my love.

Tender-to of my loins.

No, I will not let you die.

I will not let you die!

It's been 12 years
since Rip Digman

let his wife Bella die,

and in that time Rip's
former assistant Zane Troy

has gone on to become the
greatest arky in the world

while Rip, who was fired
by the Smithsonian,

is now a has-been, a nobody,

a real "Where are
they now?" situation.

I'm sorry to keep going on,
my producer's telling me

we're running short
and I need to stretch.

You have to wonder what Rip
is even up to these days.

I mean, my guess, he's just
sitting at home, jacking off.

Yes, jacking off.

And then crying because he feels

like he's somehow
cheating on his dead wife,

whose death he was
responsible for.

And then jizzing.

You know, one of those
lame halfway ones

where you're somehow out
of rhythm with yourself.

I don't know, maybe
I'm projecting now.

Either way, the guy's a loser.

Morning, Agatha.

Any museums call for an arky?

No museum has called
in ten years, Rip.

Well, excuse me
for being hopeful!

There's no need to yell.

You're right. My many apologies.

You're just lonely.

You should start dating again.

Thanks, Agatha, but the only
dating I'm interested in...

is carbon dating.

I cleaned your jeep, Rip.

Man, there sure were
a lot of tear stains

on the steering wheel.

You must've been crying a lot.

Yeah,
thanks, Swooper.

If anybody needs me, I'll
be in my secret chamber.

You mean you're going
into your private bathroom

for your morning dump.

No.

The Holy Grail.

The term people use to
describe the coolest thing

in every other profession

is that thing in archaeology.

- Ooh, ooh.
- Yes, Saltine?

Have you ever tried to
find the Holy Grail?

Well, every shovel bum worth
their salt has given it a shot.

But its location is
archaeology's greatest mystery.

They say that just one sip
from it can heal any ailment.

So, if someone in
the class found it,

would we get extra credit?

- Yeah, sure.
- Great.

No need to invite
me to any parties

this weekend, classmates.

I've got plans.

Eat a pile of shit, nerd.

I'd rather sift
through said shit

to discover secrets of the past.

Wow, you're awfully
cheery, aren't you?

Why wouldn't I be?

I'm studying to be an arky,

the greatest job in the world.

Don't you ever miss it?

Of course I miss it.

The glory. The fame.

I yearn for it still.

Much like the wolf whelp yearns

for its mother's
tough yet glossy teat.

But now I've been reduced

to the most degrading
job there is.

Teaching.

Then maybe you
shouldn't have killed your wife.

I didn't kill my wife! A bird did!

Another RumChata. Neat.

Professor, over here. It's
me, the student you hate.

Oh, man. What are
you doing here?

Okay, I was thinking about
how sad you were in class,

so I started digging around,

and I know how you can
become an arky again.

Quail Eegan.

The long-haired billionaire?

The very same. He's
building a new museum

and he needs a head arky,

so he's holding a big
competition to find one.

The whole thing
kicks off tonight.

You. Should. Go.

Huh, an intriguing proposition.

Right? And you can bring
me as your assistant arky.

Ha! No dice.

Rip Digman rolls solo.

But the arky union says you
have to have an assistant.

Ugh. Stupid union coming up with
stupid rules so I don't die.

But I'm still not
going to hire you.

We don't even know each other.

I mean, I don't even know...

♪ If you like jazz ♪

I really don't. But
I've wanted to be

- an arky all my life.
- Okay.

- I'm an amateur inventor.
- Okay.

- I love Latin.
- Go on.

Or should I say "Amo
linguam Latinam"?

Oh, yeah, I don't get it.

Oh, and my parents disowned me

because they hate archaeology.

♪ A de facto orphan. ♪

You spin a good yarn, kid,

but I'm still not sure we
connect on a cosmic level,

at the base of the neural queue.

Avatar ref.

The event starts in 15 minutes

and you have to
have an assistant.

You're hired.

Whoa. Every arky in
the world is here.

Felix Cadbury, Kate
Kwan, Indiana Jones.

And Zane Troy.

- Wow.
- Ugh.

- Come on.
- Sorry. I know he betrayed you,

but he's like the most
famous person on Earth.

Oh, fuck, don't
look. Don't look.

Rip Digman. I guess
the rumors were true.

You have gotten fatter.

What are you doing here, Zane?

The Met not paying you enough?

I'm a businessman, Rip.

I have to keep my options open.

Besides, loyalty's overrated.

Well, yeah, I agree with that.

Wait, that was a reference
to how you betrayed me.

-Saltine, punch this guy in the nuts.
-What?

Forget it. You
blinked. It's over.

- Sorry.
- You know, Rippy,

we always did do
great work together.

If you'd be interested
in becoming partners

with a 50-50 split,
give me a call.

Wait, really?

Oh, son of a bitch!

I'll just put it in
this pocket, though.

No, don't keep it,
Rip. It's an insult.

You must be new.

Rip can't throw anything away.

He's less of an arky
and more of a hoarder.

That's never been diagnosed!

Ladies and
gentleme, please welcome

Quail Eegan!

Showmanship.

Now, as you all know,

I'm the best at everything.

I've created the
best electric car,

the best rockets, and the
best hologram of myself.

But now I have
my sights set even higher.

The Eegan.

Upon completion, it will be the
largest museum in the world.

The only thing missing is...

A Froyo machine.

A collection.

And that's where
all you come in.

I'm holding a contest.

Can anyone tell me what this is?

Ha! Too easy. That's
Hammurabi's hat.

Rip Digman.

What a blast from the past.

Oh, the pleasure
is mine.

Nothing personal. I swear.
This one is the real me.

You won't be rid
of me that easily.

But you're right, Rip.

4,000 years ago, Hammurabi
conquered Mesopotamia.

All while wearing this hat.

But it has never been found.

And I want it as the
centerpiece for my new museum.

Whoever brings it to me
will be named head arky.

A position that comes
with a generous salary

and hella bennies.

Now, let the competition begin!

And begin it shall.

Put 'er there.

I am in Iceland.

And you're clear.

Wow. They couldn't tell
you were a hologram?

Yes, and neither could you.

Well, time for bed.

Move to your left, Shelly.

Aah! My ears are bleeding!

Our
top story tonight:

Arkies across the globe

are competing to head up
Quail Eegan's new museum.

Zane Troy is the odds-on
favorite to win the job,

while Rip Digman is the
favorite to accidentally

stumble off a cliff and
die a horrific death.

Here's a sneak peek at
his "in memoriam" segment.

Ugh, what the hell
is that music?

Don't let them play
that when I die.

This is so exciting.

I can't believe I'm
an assistant arky.

Let's be clear. You're
my temporary assistant.

If I get back in the
game, I'll have my pick

of the top assistants
in the biz.

What is that thing?

Saltine, meet Fleety,
my fast loris.

I've heard of a slow loris
but never a fast one.

What's the difference?

A raging addiction to methamphetamines.

So, Saltine, you ever
heard of Wendell Banks?

He's that arky who went
missing a couple years ago.

Precisely. Wendell was one
of my many male mentors.

And what nobody knows but yo soy
is that he actually went missing

while hunting for
Hammurabi's hat.

Wendell was a bit
of a warrior poet,

always leaving cryptic hints
as to where he was going.

In fact, this is the last
voice mail he left me.

My dear Rip, I'm
off to find Hammurabi's ht

in a land where the
sky is as blue as...

I can't make out
what he was saying.

His hint was covered by
the incessant squawking

- of a meridian warbler.
- You're right, Rip.

That squawking was
a meridian warbler.

But the balking was an
Ecuadorian sea hawk.

My God. You're also right.

The other bird call was
fucking tucked under there.

And there's only one
place in the world

where their migratory
patterns overlap.

Looks like we're
headed... to Indonesia.

Yeah, he was here, but
he didn't find any hat.

He did steal some
ornamental robes, though.

Classic arky move.

Never leave a
place empty-handed.

Did he say where he was going?

Yeah, a place where
"water falls from on high,

like tears from the
angel of sadness."

Looks like we're
heading... to Venezuela.

He was here, but he
didn't find a hat.

Stole a bunch of secret
ceramics, though.

That's Wendell for you. So cool.

Did he say where he was going?

Something about "where
haggling means hello

and Mehmet's merchants mingle"?

Looks like we're
heading... to Istanbul.

Yep, he was here

and swiped our
Byzantine sarcophagus.

Ha! I love that.

Rip, that's not good behavior.

He said he was hungry,

and I told him there's
a Hardee's nearby.

Looks like we're
heading... to Hardee's.

Asked for a water cup,
then filled it with soda.

Did he say where he was going?

No, he didn't say the name.

Damn. After all
that, a dead end.

But he did say the
latitude was 22 degrees,

46 minutes, 54.8 seconds south.

And the longitude was
81 degrees, 45 minutes,

43.2 seconds east.
Does that help?

No, that doesn't. Oh,
no, wait, it does!

Rip, I'd like to show you

the first of what I like to call

Saltine's Cool Inventions.

Wow. Great name.

Voilà. It's a mirror that,
when a cat looks into it,

it reflects the image of a lion.

I based it on a poster I
had in my bedroom growing up

that had the caption,

"What matters most is
how you see yourself."

So it reads your brainwaves

and shows you a reflection
of your inner self?

Not at all. It can
just tell when a cat

is looking at it and then it
reflects the image of a lion.

Good night, Saltine.

Ah! No!

Have fun. I'll be
here with the plane.

These mountain walls must
block all radio waves

and satellite signals.
We're in a true dead zone.

So they've never heard Stern?

And now we see how Wendell
Banks met his fate.

Looks like a tiger got him.

He must have been cornered.

There's no way out of
here. It's a dead end.

There's always a way,

even if you have to
make it yourself.

- And here it is.
- Oh, God.

It's filled with snakes.

Let me guess. You hate snakes?

- Nope, I love them.
- Oh.

Yep, I love them,
and I always have,

because I'm my own
unique character.

- Okay.
- I'm not based on anyone else.

- Didn't think you were.
- And since I am legally

my own person who is
not afraid of snakes,

I'll just reach into this alcove
and move some of them aside.

Yep. Pardon me, nice
snakes. Hi there.

And pull the lever.

Now you're on the trolley.

My God.

An untouched civilization.

These Neanderthals could be

a whole tribe of missing links.

And look.

I spy with my little arky eye

- Hammurabi's hat.
- That's it.

Let's wait for them
to fall asleep,

then we can sneak in...

And there he goes.

They somehow noticed me. Run!

Well, we're fucking dead.

Rip, look. They're all
staring at the hat.

- Oh.
- Put it on.

That's interesting.

Huh? Huh.

It almost seems like
they won't attack

when I'm wearing the hat.

Yeah, when you're wearing
it, they clearly worship you.

- Now let's get out of here.
- Whoa, whoa, wait a minute.

They worship me?

Yes. Now let's go.

Actually, I want to
hang here a while

- and-and see how this plays out.
- What?

Rise, my people,

and gaze upon your
glorious leader.

Oh, shit, man.

Saltine, check it.
This cat knows English.

- Sup?
- His name is Kurt.

Rip, this is crazy.

Let's just take the
hat back to Eegan.

Wh-What's your hurry?
We've got it made here.

Around-the-clock adulation,
free refills on coconut water.

Plus, they're grinding up
this emerald forest shit,

and it packs quite a wallop.

Wa-ha!

Okay, I get it.
You're feeling good.

But we'll leave soon, right?

Sure. Or, hear me
out, we never leave.

Hear me out. We live here
for the rest of our lives.

Hear me out. We get more
of this green stuff.

Hear me out. We snort it all.

Hear me out. And then we die!

Goodbye, Rip.

Okay, but you're gonna miss
my new leader ceremony.

Kurt says it'll be the
biggest party in many moons.

Hey, Saltine, where's Rip?

- Oh, my God! He's dead?!
- What?

No, he's just not coming.

I'm sorry. That was confusing.

Oh, thank God. I
thought we'd lost him.

You can't do stuff like that!

So, this is
where we perform

- the new leader ceremony.
- Great.

And what are my duties?

You have sex with
everyone in the village.

Say that again,

Kurt the talking Neanderthal.

Sorry, sometimes my
diction is a little off.

I said, you have sex with
everyone in the village,

- and if you don't, we kill you.
- Huh.

Let me just take a look here.

Holy hell.

Uh, not to give you the
wind, Kurt, old pal,

but this is giving me a
real case of the zorros.

I mean, not to sound
pigeon-livered,

but the bank is closed,
if you take my meaning.

Sorry.

I turn into a real church bell

when I've got the zorros.

I'm sure you're
like, "Who is this

canceled stamp?" Am I right?

Okay, I think I know

how to convince Rip
to come back with us.

Saltine, stop. We
can't make him leave.

But what about the
arky competition?

The arky world treated
Rip like dog shit.

They stomped on him,

then they chewed him
up, and spit him out.

Just like you do with dog shit.

So if he's found a place
where he feels happy

and respected, who are we
to ask him to give that up?

That's a good point. I just
hope he's, to quote Pharrell...

happy.

Fleety? Where's Rip?

Oh, my God, he's dead?!

Come on!

You guys got to stop doing that!

Rip, are you in here? Rip?

Oh, yeah.
Fill me up, stud.

Crush me out, stallion.

Oh, my God.

- Saltine!
- Aah!

You got to get me
the fuck out of here.

Rip? But I thought you were...

Getting my backyard
churned into a DQ Blizzard?

Luckily, they're so dumb,
I've been tricking them

with a sex doll I
made out of straw.

So, uh, you're
rescuing me or what?

Heck, yeah, I am. It's time
for Saltine's Cool Inventions.

Oh, damn it. Not the cat mirror.

I made a few modifications.

Now, it doesn't just
reflect, it also

projects holograms.

Check it.

- It's working.
- I know.

Ooh,
that hit the back wall.

Roar! Roar!

This way!

It works. Okay, I got to ask.

Where did Fleety find a kitten
in the middle of the jungle?

Oh, I see. It's a tiger cub.

And now its mama's
pissed. Fleety, you suck.

Uh, that's not good.

Uh... Okay.

That's normal.

Said no one ever.

Let's move!

Keep running!

Ah!

Huh.

Well, that's odd.

Yeah...

Got to say, though...

I don't hate it.

Swooper! Fire up the plane!

Sorry, boss, I
couldn't stop him.

I'll be taking that hat, Rip.

You'll have to
suck my dick first.

- No, I think I'll just take it.
- Right, well,

I guess I can see
your point also.

Got to hand it to
him, he's good.

- How did you even find us, Zane?
- The business card I gave you.

The one that said "fuck you"
on it and you kept it anyway

because you're a hoarder,
it was a homing device.

Oh, the fucking card?

Unbelievable, man.

I'll just put it in
this pocket, though.

Oh, I knew Wendell
Banks disappeared

searching for that hat, so
I figured I'd be like you

and follow the trail
of my male mentor.

Wow, Zane, you are a
world-class bum nickel.

Rippy, that really
hurt my feelings.

- It did?
- No!

I was being sarcastic.

Your dry British wit makes
it impossible to tell.

Now, the hat.

Okay, fine. You win, Zane.

No. Zane Troy, if you want
to take that hat from Rip,

you're going to
have to go through

his temporary
assist...

Saltine!

Corpus floraria.
Ring a bell, Rip?

Anyhoo, antidote's on the
beach two klicks thataway.

I'm headed thisaway.
You get it. Ta-ta.

Don't worry about me, Rip.

- Get the hat back.
- No, boss!

We got to get her
to the hospital.

The dart is my fault.

Should've seen it coming.

Saltine, no, hang on.

Oh, God. It's happening again.

Would going after
the hat be repeating

the mistakes of my past? Am
I being given an opportunity

to make a better choice?
Or to make the same choice

as before but in hopes
of a better outcome?

Either way, will I live
to regret my decision,

or will I revel in the
glory of a choice well made?

And is this an act of free will,

or am I fate's unwitting pawn?

If I seize the hat and
return to glory at the cost

of Saltine's young life, will
I be able to live with myself,

or if I save her life
but return to obscurity,

will I forever be
filled with resentment?

I don't know what
to fucking do, God.

This! Is! Hard!

And so I'd like to
introduce my new head arky,

the man who brought
me Hammurabi's hat...

Zane Troy.

Thank you. I just want
to say I would never

have found the hat without
my old friend Rip Digman.

Well, that sucks.

Thanks for saving my life, Rip.

Of course, Saltine.

-There was never a question of what I would do.
-What?

I want to say I'm sorry.

I dragged you into all of this,

and it amounted to nothing.

I hope your next assistant
will make you proud.

She already has.

Surprise! I'm hiring you
as my permanent assistant.

Seriously? But we lost
the hat because of me.

We lost the hat because of Zane.

But you, you helped me get back
on the proverbial arky horse.

I know your family
doesn't approve

of your lifestyle, Saltine,

but they can go to hell

and burn there for
a thousand years

as we laugh at them and spray
our hot, frothy oat piss

all over their charred corpses

with the force of a thousand
beer-bloated stallions.

That was a really nice speech.

Thanks. I wrote it on
this piece of toilet paper

while you were unconscious.

Swooper even took
an uncredited pass.

Happy to help.

So, what's next for us, boss?

I'll be in touch.

I trust this will
be to your liking.

Rip, I'm so glad you're back.

The phone's been
ringing off the hook.

With job offers?

No, there's a problem
with the phone.

It keeps ringing off the hook.

I called the phone company

and they're gonna
fix it tomorrow.

- See?
- Oh, yeah, look at that.

- That's freaky.
- Also...

you're getting a bunch of
emails with job offers.

Really?

I guess some smaller museums

saw Zane say nice things about
you in his press conference.

Because his dry British wit
makes it impossible to tell

when he's being sarcastic.

Good God, Agatha. Do you
know what this means?

Rip Digman is back!

Hey, Swooper. I'm heading
into my secret chamber.

Have a nice shit.

Hey, babe.

Things are finally looking up.

Soon I'm going to find the
Grail and bring you back.

But in the meantime,

don't you worry about
me being faithful.

Because the only dating
I'm interested in...

is carbon dating.

Chirp.