>> 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.