Original subtitles

No!

Ugh. No wonder Morocco Mole was so inept. He never got any damn sleep.

Unlike some people. Uh, what's that?

Uh, good morning. Don't "g'morning" me.

What's your problem? Besides that fricking air raid siren?

It's the muezzin chanting the adhan, Lana. God, be open to other cultures.

I am. What I'm not open to is not sleeping on the floor...

...listening to your drunk ass fart and snore all night in the only bed...

...which I'm sure is why you wanted this room.

If I may rebut, point by point? No, you may--

A, pretty sure I offered to share the bed. B, I wasn't that drunk.

Really? Lana, this is me we're talking about.

Okay, yeah, maybe I smoked just a teeny bit too much hashish...

...but that's only because I didn't wanna be rude.

To who, the creepy old Moroccan dude? Or those Dutch high school girls?

Both. The latter of whom were college juniors.

And C, Lana, we had to take this room. Beat history was made here.

Says who, the manager? Why would he lie?

You are American, yes? Uh, yes.

Then you know Allen Ginsberg, author of the poem "Howl."

I saw the best minds of my generation Destroyed by madness

Starving hysterical naked

Yes. So for extra 1000 American...

...you can have room where he wrote. Yes!

Archer? Morocco. Yeah, hang on.

Is this really the room where Allen Ginsberg wrote “Howl"?

Why not?

Yeah, why not'?

And just so we're clear, you're mad at all that stuff...

...and not being weird because we had sex last night.

Are you--? We didn't have sex.

Good, because I lied. I was drunk.

You want some? Makes you feel better.

What will make me feel better is to get out of shit-reeking Tangier...

...which we can only do after we extract Agent, what's his name, Kazak?

Why the hell hasn't he activated his GPS beacon?

And while we're on the subject, where the hell is our GPS?

Oh. Uh, promise you won't get mad? Uh, no.

No. I know, right? It's loud as balls.

When did it start going off? I don't know, like, before the muezzin...

...but after the Dutch co-eds left.

You brought them up to the room? Aha! Busted.

You did get some sleep.

How can you not love this place? The sights, the sounds, the smells.

No, Archer, just one smell, singular, which would knock a possum over.

Didelphis virginiana.

My second-favorite animal with a prehensile--

Tail. Thanks, Brett Somers. Yes, a tail.

You have one. Yeah, I wish.

I'd be my first-favorite prehensile-tailed animal.

Archer? Nightcrawler.

A.k.a., Kurt Wagner, Lana. Archer.

Although he can teleport, so the prehensile tail is--

Goddamn it, we're being followed.

- What? When were you planning to tell me? - I was.

Look, look. Look out!

Oh, yeah? Well... Damn, I had something in Arabic for this.

Wow. That accidentally worked.

Uh, accidentally? Just drive. There, take that left.

Hang on, I'm swinging back around. No, you're not. Why?

Because. Look in here and tell me the Arabic phrase for:

"Your mother is a whore and a goatherd is her pimp."

Oh, right. Absolutely.

Oh, for-- Nice. Real mature, Lana.

Look, obviously Moroccan intelligence isn't

as stoked about Kazak coming over to ISIS...

was your mother is, so can you please quit clicking around?

Who's clicking around? Me...

...who's driving this clown car like Parnelli fricking Jones?

Or you, Lana Litterbug?

Archer, I am seriously not in the mood for your bullshit right n--

Ow!

Ahem. Oh, uh...

Hold on, I'm stopping. Why?

Because according to this, we're here.

Are you coming?

No, but I'm breathing fast.

Get it? Lana, did you get it? Lana?

You trying not to laugh because you're cranky for some reason'?

I'm cranky because I didn't sleep. Inaccurate.

And now I can't sleep because I'm pretty sure I have a concussion.

Wait, seriously? Yes, Archer. My head totally kills.

Well, that's not good. Wait, seriously?

Because Tangier's totally awesome. Wildly inaccurate.

But it's probably not the best place to receive medical treatment.

So, what say we grab this Kazak guy and get out of this flyblown shithole?

Okay, but you're missing out on all the great things Tangier has to offer.

Name one. Che--

Besides cheap hash and a repulsively low age of consent.

Uh, rugs? Okay.

Shooting me's not gonna change the unbeatableness of their rug prices, Lana.

It might change my mood. To remorseful?

I drew because we don't know what's waiting for us behind this--

Door. You know...

Lana! Archer?

Uh, hey, how you doing, buddy? I'll be better when you shoot him.

I was talking to him, stupid. Great, then I'll--

I don't think he likes guns.

Okay, all right, that's... All right, come on. Hey, uh, stop it.

Would you get the damn dog off my tits'?

Here, boy. Come on, buddy. Uh, heel?

I don't think he speaks English. What's "get off" in Arabic?

She asked, regretfully, remembering that just moments earlier...

...she'd thrown away his $11 phrasebook.

Oh, for the... Get off. Ooh! Ha, ha!

Okay, okay. Who's a good boy, huh? Who's a good boy?

Ugh. I thought you hated dogs. I love dogs, Lana.

Except Mother's dog. I hated that dog.

Because she loved it more than you? Ha, ha. Very funny.

Although, she never forgot the dog's birthday.

Can we please just do this?

Lana, put it away. All right, everything is okay. See?

See? He really doesn't like guns, Lana. He can't stress that enough.

What are we supposed to do if Kazak doesn't wanna come with us?

Feed him to Cujo here. He can poop him out when we get home.

Hey, who's a poopy boy, huh? Who's a poopy boy?

Shit-breath, slobbering-ass mutt.

Don't listen to her, she's--

Oh, my God. Wow.

You could use a Tic Tac.

Kazak? Hello?

Kazak. Kazak.

Ah, get away from me. What are you doing? What are you doing?

Lana, you can't beckon him and then rebuff him.

Beckon and rebuff whom? Kazak.

No, he's not.

He cannot be Kazak.

Uh, he can, according to his name tag.

Oh! Son of a bitch.

Well, technically, she's right, huh? Is she right?

Who's a son of a bitch? Are you a son of a bitch?

Lana, look. He thinks he's people.

Nope. No, no, no, nope.

I did not sign on to be a dog sitter for... Whose freaking dog is this?

Well, who gives a shit, Lana? He's, like, the Pelé of, let me finish, fetch.

Well, I will if you bring it here, Kazak. I can't throw it if it's in your mouth.

Why didn't you become a vet? Honestly? Didn't have the grades.

Heh. No shit. Why would I lie about that?

And who are you calling? Who do you think?

Ask her if we can keep him.

Miss Archer, Lana for you, Line 1. I'm not here.

Then how...?

Oh, for the love--

Obviously, I am here. Phew!

I just don't wish to speak to her.

But you are here. Ah! If you walk over here and touch me...

...you will spend your lunch hour being fitted for a prosthetic hand.

I only get 45 minutes.

But I'll tell her you're not here.

But you are, right? Aah! Out.

I assume Lana's mad because Sterling's pushing her buttons.

What a surprise. Speaking of...

You finally saved enough money for a sex change.

No. I'm actually broker than usual.

--Nine, 10. She's out.

But I'm very comfortable in my own body, thank you very much. And--

Don't thank me, thank-- And before you say--

May I finish?

Archer Daniels Midland.

Now what do you want? I'm extremely busy.

To be a field agent.

- I'm sorry? - You should be.

How was I supposed to know it was gonna make him do that?

Stuffing him full of street kebabs'?

A, it was kofta, and-- Beelzebub's asshole. Kazak.

Oh. Bad dog. Bad dog.

Sorry, buddy, I didn't mean that. I-- I did.

Your mother sends me on this bullshit mission...

...but now she won't even take my call?

New York's five hours behind. Maybe she's not in the office.

Oh, please, she's totally there.

Wha--? Out. Just checking. God.

Idiot. As I was saying...

I'm sorry. And I'm sure I...

Ugh. Oh, man.

I also speak for Kazak, who, by the way, is the real victim here.

How is he the victim?

Lana, his nose is like ajillion times more sensitive than ours.

It's gotta be killing him.

Well, before I kill him, and you, just get us to the port.

Hopefully, this stupid boat to Spain has aspirin.

What boat? What "what boat"? The "boat" boat.

Wow. You might actually be concussed because that's not a real sentence.

Archer? And the boat's not a boat, Lana...

...it's a freaking hovercraft! Woo-hoo!

Oh.

But boat or not boat, we won't be getting on it.

A roadblock?

So guess we're driving through the desert to a backup extraction point?

Sorry. I know you had your heart set on that hovercraft ride.

But why on earth do you feel you're qualified to be an ISIS field agent?

Uh, besides Cyril's one? Hey.

Cyril, you want a fresh one? I do not, no.

Then shut your fist hole and show Miss Archer how I did on the IFAAB.

The ISIS Field Agent Aptitude Battery?

You took it? You aced it?

No. But this can't-- You cheated.

How? Everyone watched me take it. Under sterile conditions, by the way.

Well...

What?

Punk-ass bitches.

Sterile test conditions, anyway. But I can promise she didn't cheat.

Be that as it-- Hm.

Hm. Hm!

This means nothing.

My God, a perfect score on the IFAAB merely indicates...

...that a person is a candidate for field agent status.

It can't determine if they're suited for actual field work.

I mean, what if she had to subdue an enemy agent?

Cue sad trombone. And go.

Pam, what the hell did you--? Whah!

Unh! Help!

My God.

And it goes on like that for another 38 soul-cleaving minutes.

Of which you were there for two. Three.

I was scared. I ran away. Sue me.

And then sue me for this. Smoke bomb.

So you aced the test and beat up a Nazi, a nerd and queen of the robots'?

Hey.

If the saddle oxford and/or ruby slipper fits, mister and/or missy.

What makes you think I need another field agent?

- I quit. - Lana, believe me...

...nobody wanted a hovercraft more than me.

Stop the car. I'm serious.

I'm serious. Calm the hell down.

Here, hit this hash brown. That creepy old dude put his lips on it but--

Archer, stop the goddamn car.

Lana, put the gun down. He's gonna--

Stopping the car, buddies.

Sorry about that, fur face.

Wouldn't have shot you for a gazillion bucks.

You, not so much.

Lana, come on, we both know you're-- Quitting, Archer. Yes, exactly.

Oh. I was gonna say, "not quitting."

Wildlier inaccurate.

"Wildlier" isn't a real word, by the way. At least not in English.

I don't know. She threw away my phrasebook.

Almost kind of wishing she'd shot you.

No, no, no, I'm kidding.

Who's my stinky boy, huh? Who's my--'?

Ugh. So, hey, I know we kid around a lot, but I think you might have dog cancer.

No, no. No way. I'm not going back for her.

You're new here, but Lana cries wolf on quitting ISIS, like, twice a week.

She'll be fine. She's got-- Oh.

I was gonna say, GPS, gun, sat phone, and canteen full of life-saving water.

Well, she's the one who stormed off into the desert...

...with no GPS, no gun, no sat phone, and no life-saving water.

And why the hell are you taking her side?

She jammed a gun in your--

Ugh. So were you whining about Lana being an idiot'?

Or about you being carsick?

How much freaking kofta did you eat?

Well, whose fault is that?

Okay, so maybe I egged you on to eat five orders of it...

...and maybe I push Lana's buttons on purpose...

...and just generally make her life hell...

...which maybe I do, possibly, if I'm being completely honest...

...because I still have some pretty strong--

Oh, goddamn, dude.

Okay, we'll go back for her. But not because you said so.

Because you let him. Because you let him push your buttons.

That's why you stormed off with no GPS, gun, phone, or life-saving water.

And that's why you died in the desert.

Holy shit, I'm gonna die in the desert.

Just like Cheryl's gypsy woman said.

How would I ever die in a dessert?

Well... Pretty close.

And you're not gonna die out here because any minute now--

Ha, ha! Ha!

--Archer's gonna come crawling back to you, tail between his legs from...

From the wrong direction. Oh, shit.

Oh, shit.

Wait, wait, wait. Shut up. What? What are you talking about?

Oh, God, I don't know. Maybe a gigantic chocolate mousse or--

I said "desert." Oh.

Still pretty close.

Will you put Mother on the damn phone? What's the magic word?

Oh, for the-- Please.

No, they changed it.

Cheryl, you stupid ****...

Hm. Lucky guess.

Plus, I'm a quick learner.

Plus, I'm an amazing driver. Plus, I almost never get sick.

Plus, I already bought three pantsuits. I'll think about it.

That a real you'll think about it'?

Or a "Pam, if your pig, Leon, wins a ribbon at the county fair...

...we won't kill and eat him for Easter dinner...

...and render what's left into soap," you'll think about it?

It's-- Because I never really got over that.

It's a real one. Yay!

But thank you for that glimpse into your bleak, farmy childhood.

It was actually pretty awesome. And, if I'm being honest, so was Leon.

Get out. What?

ARCHER". Mother? it's Sterling. Listen. Oh, no.

Heh. I guess I had that coming.

You must really think I'm an idiot.

Your words, Mother, but my voice-mail doesn't call you.

Oh, right.

What's going on? Did you get Kazak? Are you on the boat yet?

Okay, in order, I'll get to that. Yes, no, and it's not a boat, it's a--

The hovercraft. Whatever. Why aren't you people on it?

Well, for starters, some of us aren't people.

But they think they are. Yes, they do. Yes, they do.

Sterling! Oh. So, anyway, Lana quit and--

She--? What'd you do this time?

Nothing. She quit because you made us fly to Morocco.

Coach, by the way-- And don't even get me started on that.

--For a dog. You know how insulting that is?

A stupid dog?

Wha--? Is this about the carriage ride?

I mean, Pd be lying if I said it wasn't a factor.

Let me tell you something about that so-called stupid dog, Mr. Man.

Are you--? That's all we were after? Well, you could have told us, Mother.

Oh, and you could have told me you just took her to the stupid vet.

Who just had a lovely birthday carriage ride through Central Park?

Yes, she did. Yes, she did.

We're not gonna make it to the backup extraction point...

...so get a fix on my signal and reroute the chopper to those coordinates.

Okay, rerouting now. ETA, 10 minutes.

Whenever. We'll be here. One way or the other.

So, hey, how you doing on the kofta?

Yeah, good, get it all out now because this next part's gonna suck.

Archer!

See? That's why I said scrooch down. Lana, Lana, scrooch down!

No, no, no. Archer, don't.

Are you out of your mind?

No. Although I am out of ammo.

Okay, buddy, so here's the deal. A, scrooch down.

And B, normally in this situation I do a pit maneuver.

If I do, the truck will flip, and if Lana doesn't die...

...she's a quadriplegic, I marry her out of guilt...

...but after a few years of feeding tubes and colostomy bags, I resent her...

...and the night nurse is, like, Brazilian and 20.

Don't judge me. I have needs, man.

The point is, and it might be a kind of shitty plan...

...but I'm gonna jump on the truck. So I need you to take the--

--wheel, exactly. 80... Kazak?

Oh, look. Lana, look. He thinks he's vampires.

Lana, look out!

Kazak!

No. Guy's probably got nine wives and a jillion kids and--

Holy shit, that's racist, Archer. What is wrong with you?

Seriously. Lana.

Archer, thank-- God, is he hit? Tell me he's not hit.

He's fine.

As am I, Not that you give a-- Shh! Lana, don't ruin the moment.

What moment? What are you--?

Uh, what are you doing? What is that? Microfilm.

It was on his collar the whole time. Something about nukes in Pakistan.

Or one of the -akistans. I forget which one.

Ow!

My point is, ow, sometimes we do good work.

So promise me you'll never quit again.

Only if you promise you'll quit being such a colossal asshole.

Hmm.

Heh. I can't. You know...

What?