Original subtitles

FXX presents-- Whoo-hoo-hoo!

Archer Danger Island.

-(Archer laughs) -Oh, for...

Asshole!

Why's everybody pissed at me?

I'm the one with no parachute in a plane that can't land.

(belches)

Which...

LANA: Well?

What do we do now?

I mean, pretty much just this.

She means how do we land?

Oh. Yeah, that's this whole big thing.

-What do you mean?! -Gott im Himmel...

You need, like, training.

-So train us. -Ja.

Okay, okay, uh....

Okay, the first thing you wanna do

is get out your notebooks and two number two pencils.

-LANA: What? -CYRIL: Was?

PAM: Wait, shit, that was the classroom portion.

-Gott verdamme dich. -Which...

I mean, even if we had pencils...

Tell us what to do.

Okay, when you're about to hit the ground,

you just kinda go limp.

-Limp? -Heh. Oh, right, like this guy

doesn't know what "limp" means, am I right, ladies?

-Crackers! -Oh, my God.

-Was ist "limp"? -Relax.

How?!

Ugh. It means relax.

-(chuckles) Dipshit. -Right?

But can we get a little more detail?

Jesus, lady, okay.

Your knees are kind of bent,

and right when you hit the ground,

you relax and just fall over sideways,

and kind of roll from your feet, up your legs,

-and then... -(Cyril shrieks)

Well, shit. Okay, Princess Highpockets, you're up.

No, no, no, no, wait, wait, wait, wait!

Jesus, people, how hard is it to...

Aah! (grunting)

Oh, man. I had something about, like,

"flying is for the birds"?

No, it's gone.

(Pam grunting)

Goddamn it.

Come on, you son of a...

(grunts)

(sighs) Idiocy.

LANA: Help!

Get me down.

-Shh! -Now.

-I will, but quit yelling. -(deep growl in distance)

-(gasps) -We're not currently

-at the top of the food chain. -(whispering): Sorry.

Now relax, you're gonna be fine.

CYRIL: Help!

PAM: Him, on the other hand...

Yikes.

That's enough to make any guy go limp, am I right, ladies?

Shut up, bird.

Eh.

♪

-LANA: Promise me. -(Pam grunts)

Bocados de mierda.

I promise I will catch you.

Well, you'd better. It is a crime

to harm a member of the royal family.

What, you gonna arrest the ground?

-Oh, so you can crack wise, but... -Bird...

-(coughs into wing) -Okay,

-one, two, three! -(Pam grunts)

My goodness.

I didn't realize you were so strong.

Yeah, state cheese toss champ, five years running.

But don't get any ideas, sister.

Wh...? Now, just you wait one minute.

Because what the hell is a cheese toss?

What?! seriously?

CYRIL: Ugh! Verdammte Idioten!

How do I get down from here?

PAM: I mean, you just unbuckle it and...

-Wh...? Are you mad? -PAM: No.

I will fall.

PAM: You don't really have a choice.

Of course I do. I will stay here.

-M'kay. -What? No.

We cannot leave him here. He is vital

to our fledgling breadfruit industry.

Which is... fledgling.

So then that's probably bad...

(gasps)

Aw, man.

(Cyril stammering)

sch-sch-schlange!

(panting) H-Hilfe.

If it's not one frickin' thing with you people, it's another.

(whispers): Do you have a plan?

(sighs) I do, actually.

Okay, Lucy, here's the plan.

Mitimotu is here, but with the wheels stuck down,

the closest airstrip we can land on

is on Motu Papa... here.

Which is west-northwest, a heading of 295 degrees.

Let's call it 320 nautical miles.

Airspeed 110, burn rate 50 per,

call it 55 with the wheels down, if we run it lean

and if the fuel pump holds,

'cause if it doesn't, none of this shit matters.

Tailwind is five.

Fuel-weight ratio, rho times alpha, then lift-to-drag,

where W is force in newtons, which means...

if we catch a few breaks and the tailwind holds,

our maximum range is...

Goddamn it.

Aah!

(sighs) Great. Now that's broken.

(whimpers)

That cannot be your plan.

Well, if you'd hit the stupid buckle when I told you to...

(whimpers)

That's his tongue on my face, isn't it?

Okay, Fritz, hang tight.

-Ba-dum-bump. -Bird.

You can't shoot the snake.

Why not? They slither into our nests,

they eat our eggs, they eat our chicks.

I meant she could hit Fuchs.

I stand by my statement.

Don't worry, Princess. I'm not shootin' at the snake.

Warte, was?

Nein, nein, nein, nein, nein, nein...

Nein!

(grunting)

(thumping, grunting continuing)

-Ai-yai-yah. -Oh, man. -Santa mierda.

-Is he...? -I mean...

-CYRIL: Get me... -(all gasp)

the hell out of here!

RAY: Bien sûr, mon amie,

-avec plaisir. -Don't you want

-to know why? -Non. Just how much.

Quelle chance. The perfect amount.

Après toi.

But since you mentioned "why"...

Oh, but "why" is such a troublesome question,

though, don't you agree?

I mean, once you start pulling threads,

there's no telling where it'll end.

One minute you're wearing a lovely cable-knit sweater,

and the next there's a pile of yarn on the floor,

and you're standing there...

-(yelps) -(yelps)

Jesus "what is the 'H' for" Christ.

And you can keep your stupid turnip...

I'm not hungry.

-Mes bonbons! -Your what?

Cochon stupide.

Qu'est-ce que tu as fait?

C'était un cadeau de ma mère.

-You... -De Paris.

C'était de Paris.

You said I could have one.

Yes, one.

One, you cow bitch.

I didn't know which one I wanted!

(inhales)

-Out! -What?

Out, out, out, out, out!

No. It's some kind of ruse,

you're gonna shoot me in the back, or, or...

It's not a ruse. I paid your bail.

Oh. Well then.

Hmph.

But, now, wait a minute, Miss Thing...

On n'a plus besoin de navet.

(sighs)

ARCHER: Hey, come on...

Chin up, Archer...

You-You've been in tougher scrapes, huh?

Remember the Andes? Paso de Muerte?

Come on, death was right there in the name.

All those dogfights over Spain

against the Condor Legion, remember?

This guy knows what I'm talking about.

So if the Andes couldn't kill me

and the Krauts couldn't kill me--

I mean, I know it's kinda hard to grasp-- but, uh...

I might be immortal.

I... am...

immortal!

(chuckles)

Jesus Christ.

I-I am dying.

Shut up, you're not dying.

You just got a couple of busted ribs.

And probably a punctured lung.

-Was? -Bird.

What? We were all thinking it.

No one is thinking that.

-He is. -Ja, I am now.

-See? -(animal growling)

-(all gasp) -I feel like

if I have to remind you people

how much you need to shut the hell up,

I'm gonna lose my temper.

Well-- and I think I speak for the group--

I feel like you already have.

-Ja, und me, also. -So do I, actually.

(sighs) Well, if you think I'm mad now,

wait till I'm getting shit out of a dragon.

-KRIEGER: What? -LANA: Wait, what? -CYRIL: Huh? Was?

PAM: Ahem.

-Oka atua. -Holy birdshit. -Was?

Was ist los?

(clears throat) So, listen,

I'm probably gonna head out. (grunts)

But then what would I use for bait?

Cheese?

There we are--

a nice cool glass of pastis, to...

whet the appetite.

-For what? -New experiences?

-You realize I can't pay for this. -Mm-hmm.

Or pay you back for bailing me out.

Which reminds me, why'd you do that?

Well, you said it yourself: you're stranded here,

abandoned by the husband you cuckolded,

thousands of miles from New York,

where you're a disgrace, an outcast, a laughingstock...

All right. Jesus.

You're a vagrant without a franc to your name,

so Reynaud can arrest you again whenever he wants,

and I doubt he'd lose much sleep over it.

Framboise...

noix de coco...

cerise...

Noisette.

And so, even if you had a passport and a ticket out,

if you're sitting in that rich, chocolatey jail cell...

I could be stuck here...

forever!

Exactly.

So why not make the most of it?

ARCHER: I mean, it's not like

you really have a choice, so...

Plus,

maybe you really are immortal.

(burps, chuckles)

Tha-That'd explain a lot.

You want me to be a whore?!

No, not a whore.

Good heavens, no. You'd be more like a...

courtesan.

Who men pay for sex.

And sparkling conversation.

-I... -And not just men, necessarily.

-What? -And, actually, they'd pay me

-(scoffs) -and then I'd pay you...

-a percentage. -A percentage?!

Let's call it...

ARCHER: 49 feet.

Wingtip to wingtip.

And I bet that's 50 feet wide, right?

Yeah, I bet that's 50...

Which means we've got six inches to spare on both sides, Lucy,

and, uh, you know I can do a lot with six inches.

Ba-dum-pshh! Huh? Am I right, Luce?

Lucy, am I right?

(engines sputter, stops)

Luce. Lucy.

Lucille Goosille.

Oh, okay, so, then, I guess, just pout.

But I would think it goes without saying

that it's also in your best interest

if we don't crash and burn.

(engines sputtering)

Thank you.

Jesus, was that so har...

(engines stop)

Oh...

You fat bitch.

(Cyril grunting)

(whimpering)

Fette Schlampe.

That better mean "Thank you."

(grunts) It does not.

That's okay, you can thank me

if we get out of this with our skin on.

Which... What is taking you so long?

Okay, hold your damn horses.

-Here. -Nein. I don't want this.

-(animal grumbles) -(all gasping)

PAM: Nobody wants any of this.

But everybody is gonna do their bit.

Starting with you. Get up in those trees

and gimme some aerial recon.

Yep. Yep, yep, yep.

And if you leave us here,

I will find you, I will pluck you,

I will slather your bumpy skin with olive oil and rosemary,

and then I will shove a beer can up your asshole,

and roast your ancient carcass

until it is golden brown and goddamn delicious.

Yup.

And how old are you, anyway?

Like, 40?

Eh.

Man, I had something about...

dead-stick... something?

No, it's gone.

(exhales) Okay, Luce, it's now or never.

-Never! -Oh, all right, 60/40.

That... (scoffs) No, I will not be your whore.

-Courtesan! -Whatever. I won't do it.

-Because you will be in my jail. -What?

Unless you can show me 100 francs

or proof of onward voyage.

You know I don't have either.

And I do not have my bonbons.

And so, madame... aprez-vous.

And what if I say no?

(crash)

-Aah! -Sacre bleu!

Jesus Christ!

(woman screams)

ARCHER: Son of a...

...bitch!

Mon Dieu. C'est le volcane!

It's not the volcano, you idiot!

I hate this stupid island!

-Jesus Christ. -Ow...

ARCHER: (grunts) So...

hey.

-What now? -Sterling. -Ooh!

(grunts) Shut up. Quick question:

how wide is the, uh, street out there?

-40 feet? -Mm-hmm.

Speaking of: you're good with 40?

ARCHER: (stammers) Wha-What's that?

-(stammers) -MALORY: Oh, good,

-he's coming to. -Hooray.

Oh, shut up.

And you-- give him some air.

Airspeed. Nose up.

Flaps! Flaps!

(coughs, chuckles)

Holy shit, I... I really am immortal.

And also in serious trouble.

Shut up. Where's Pam? She's gonna love this.

She... There was nobody on the plane.

So where is la princesse?

Wait, no, no, no, they... they bailed out.

Jesus Christ, how long was I out?

-One hour? -Flew by.

Oh, my God, so they're out there in the jungle.

I-In the dark?

-(gasps) -Mon Dieu.

So? What happens on shithole island when it gets dark?

On three, I start blasting.

(dragon grumbles)

(grumbling)

One... two...

(sighs) Goddamn it.

I am genuinely sorry.

But I am absolutely commandeering your vehicle,

-so... -No, I forbid you. You are insane.

Hmm. Your concerns are noted.

Putain! (grunts)

-ARCHER: Great. -Sterling!

Be careful.

(laughs) No.

PAM: Okay.

One, two...

Everybody try not to take a big greasy shit on me...

You know what?

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

-What? -(dragons grumble)

What if they're like sharks?

-They are. -Yeah. -Right?

No, what if when you shoot one,

the smell of its blood sends the others into a feeding frenzy?

-I'm gonna shoot the others. -No. All the others.

(dragons grumble)

KRIEGER: Like if they can smell one drop of blood

-from miles and miles away... -Mein Gott.

There could be hundreds of them out there.

Thousands. Who gives a shit?

(dragons grumble)

-CYRIL: Was? -LANA: Me.

-First of all, they're not like sharks... -Ehh...

In that way. And second of all,

any one of these big bastards could kill you.

The rest of 'em are just gonna

be fightin' over your dead-ass bones.

-Well... -I dunno.

-I vote we take a vote. -Yup. Yup, yup, yup. -Second.

(sighs) I swear to God...

RAY: Where are we going?

Well, they bailed out south of Tarako, so...

Le volcan? Attention!

You must slow down.

Oh, this piece of shit can go slower?

Of course, you... Oh, le sarcasme.

Cognate. Nice.

Anyway, if nobody's hurt

and Pam's got 'em headed in the right direction,

they should run right into this trail.

If the serpents and lizards and cannibals

don't run into them first.

Yeah, seems like a shitty place

for a breadfruit plantation, huh?

-Breadfruit? Here? -Right?

-That's what I... -(rapid gunfire in distance)

Oh, shit.

Aah!

(all screaming)

-I'm out. -We were supposed to vote.

I voted no. Reloading.

(dragons snarling)

Oh, man, there's even more of 'em.

-Come on, come on, come on. -Gott im Himmel!

Nothing is worth this!

I don't care about the idol!

-Do what? -What idol?

What? Wait? What? No, he said

look out! -(Cyril shrieks)

-(grunts) -No!

PAM: Loaded.

-(all screaming) -(dragons roaring and shrieking)

-Nein, nein, nein, nein, nein. -They're everywhere!

KRIEGER: What the hell's in those bullets?

-Reloading. -Lizard pheromones?

(sniffs) I don't think so.

Loaded.

(dragons roaring and shrieking)

What the hell are you doing here?

Get in.

Oh, right. Heavy barrel!

Take that, lizard!

And that!

(all screaming)

Get some! Get some!

(dragons roaring and shrieking)

Okay, we're in. Go.

ARCHER: Whoooooo!

Et toi! Et toi!

Slow down.

Oh, my God, all right.

ALL: Whoa!

PAM: Oh, just like old times.

(all exclaim)

Oh, okay.

Yeah, so, I guess no thanks necessary.

-Danke, danke... -Thank you.

-Well, I mean... -Bird.

But how did you find us?

I dunno. Just lucky, I guess.

Grace à Dieu...

And wait, where did you land?

(chuckles) Oh, man, Pam. Speaking of luck...

PAM: So, you're all lined up,

thinking, "I've got 50 feet to work with..."

ARCHER: And I'm just 49, tip to tip...

PAM: And of course the fuel pump's out...

ARCHER: Yeah, so I'm, you know...

-PAM: Dead-stickin' it. -ARCHER: Right?

PAM: Yeah, so, but then you slam a wing

into that first tree down there,

and then it just sorta shitstorms on ya...

ARCHER: Well, yeah, because...

Because any asshole could tell

that this street is not 50 feet wide,

and even if it was,

that only gives you six frickin' inches to spare.

-Right? -And I actually had something for that, about, like...

doing a lot with six inches, or like, it was like...

Like, what if you'd fixed the goddamn fuel pump

so the crash never happened?!

Mmm... no, it was more like a dick...

(grunts)

Yeah.

(farts)

Heh. Funny stuff.

♪

MAN: Made in Georgia.

Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH

-ANNOUNCER: Wednesdays-- -(roaring)

-will they survive-- -(screaming)

Danger Island?

Oh, I would just murder that.

Me too. I meant sexually.

I meant murderly.

ANNOUNCER: Archer Danger Island.

All new, Wednesdays at 10:00. Only on FXX.