Ruined. Completely...
Mother, come on, we're not...
Shut up. And utterly...
- We're not... - Shut up. And ruined!
We're not "ruined," Camille.
We've got 2,000 pounds of cocaine.
Minus the 20 kilos you sold for Monopoly money, oh,
minus however much Pam ate, probably two kilos.
- Or three, or whatever. - Quit eating all the
- goddamn cocaine! - Make me!
My point, unless Pam
ate it, is that things could be a lot worse.
How? You sold a million dollars of
product for this worthless stack of paper.
How could it be any worse?
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...
Good enough to pass in, say, a deli?
- Yeah, I guess, but... - Shut up.
So you take a hundred, go buy a pack of gum, and walk
- out with $99.50 in change. - Hey, that's brilliant,
- Archer. - Yeah, plus gum?
So you're gonna do that 10,000 times?
Well, not me personally.
Not anyone personally; it's idiotic.
What we need is a big-ticket item.
Like a big bag of cocaine!
The last thing we need is more cocaine.
- Disagree. - Because you are
- addicted to cocaine. - Your words.
Hey, wait a second, I've got the perfect big-ticket
item-- Cadillacs! - Nope.
- Let me finish. - 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. - Well, not now.
- You ruined it. - The mental image
- alone. - And besides, what
were you planning to do with 50 Cadillacs?
Um, open a dealership?
- What? Ron's done very well. - Speaking of,
- why aren't you at work? - Everything's on
autopilot. There's nothing for me to do.
- I am so bored. - Have you tried cocaine?
No, no, nah. Smoked a reefer cigarette once.
Uh, let me guess, with some Negroes?
- As luck would have it. - What about guns?
No, no, they seemed nice, jazz cats.
No, why don't we buy guns?
I mean, I assume rival drug dealers aren't gonna be too
- happy with us... - And since the FBI
seized all the ISIS weapons when they took the building.
Oh, my God. All we have now is my Walther
- and what, Lana, your TEC-9's? - Yeah, for which I have
- no ammo. - What?
I used to get it from work.
Okay, if we're doing a list?
- Bullets. - 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.
It's 8:30 in the morning.
A bar, then! Whatever!
Ooh, or maybe a jazz club. We can smoke reefers with these
Negroes you're suddenly so nuts about.
- It was 1940! - And where am I supposed
to lock up 2,000 pounds of cocaine?
Cyril, look around. Somewhere in this mansion, I
have to assume, is a gigantic, Scrooge McDuckian vault.
Scrooge McDuck, eh?
Sweater.
Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com
All right. Where are we?
Lana, did you find an arms dealer?
Mmm, no, all we've got so far is Spyridon Skorpio
- and Conway Stern. - Geez, those are old
- files. - One of whom we blew
up, the other of whom's hand we gruesomely ripped off.
And both of whom bring up extremely uncomfortable
sexual memories for... uh, 40% to 60% of the people in
- this room. - Hmph.
Oh, what about Ray's brother, the pot farmer?
- He had lots of guns. - Yeah, he's doing life
- in prison. - Now, that's the song
- you should write. - Ugh, or maybe
one about a crippled cyborg, who all he did was pussy-ache about
being a crippled cyborg!
Well, keep looking. And, Cyril, you've got the
- product under lock and key? - Yup, in the kitchen
pantry. There's no Scrooge McDucky
- vault. - No what?
Uh, how about an old-timey gymnasium full of
- Indian clubs and medicine balls? - Hello?
- I've finished! - There is one of those.
Oh, and it was a good idea to lock up all the
- counterfeit money. - Yeah, good job,
- whoever did that. - Wait, did you not?
- Mmm, no, I... - What?
- Well, where the hell is it? - Welp!
I've got good news and good news.
- Amphetamines?! - Right?
And I know it sounds crazy, but I like them as much as cocaine.
Where did you get them?
Okay, okay, okay, so remember how I used to
- drift-race with the Yakuza? - The Yakuza?
- Hai. - What, were the
- Hells Angels busy? - Busy being pussies.
You know, relatively. When compared to the deadly and
- terrible Yakuza. - Yeah, and on a
related note, Pam, what do you think's gonna happen when they
realize the money is counterfeit?
Oh, my God, right? Can you imagine?
- Yes, Pam, we can. - Oh, my God, they chop
- off their own fingers. - Do they know how to
- find you? - Um...
Well, they know I work at ISIS, but that won't do them any good.
- Well, thank... - Although...
Whooooo! Domo arigato, fellas.
Two of them have been to my apartment.
You, too, Ojiisan. Or three, or whatever.
Oh, Jesus Christ. Can the mind vomit?
But now I live here, so...
Well, thank God, the...
- Although... - Hmm?
Hmm. Hmm-hmm.
Mmm, mm-hmm.
_
Ugh, yes, the mind can, in fact, vomit.
I'm not here.
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...
Oh.
Hey, so, did somebody order Chinese?
They're Japanese, you idiot!
Oh, for... I don't
get all pissy every time you mistake a Dutchman
for a Swede! Either time that happened!
Answer the
- goddamn telephone! - Now, there's
- your song! - No!
- Answer it! - Make me!
- Holy shitsnacks. - 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." Bonham's a pussy.
- Maybe you pussy! - Pam?
Hello?
- Shiro kabocha. - It's Mr. Moto!
Shiro kabocha, I am very ashamed...
Your new home is so beautiful, but I did not bring
- a housewarming gift. - Hey, you know what?
Don't even sweat it, because... Hmm?
Hai. Hai. Hai. Mm-kay, bye.
Wait-- didn't you shoot that guy?
Oh, who remembers? Well, what did he say?
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.
- Because? - Because a violin would
probably dissolve in the same big drum of acid they dissolved
- that guy in. - Ew!
But if all Moto wants is his drugs...
Then he can give us a refund.
Of worthless counterfeit money?
It's not exactly worthless.
The right buyer would probably pay about 15 cents on the dollar
- for it. - What?!
- Why didn't you say that?! - Uh, I don't know.
- I assumed you knew. - Everybody knows that.
- Ron?! - I say screw the money.
Let's just give Moto his drugs and be glad we dodged
- this giant metaphorical bullet. - Hey, and where are we
- on that list? - Malory?
Oh, all right! We obviously can't go to war
- with the Yakuza. - Uh, not without
normal-size, non-metaphorical bullets.
But, Pam, if there ever are any, this comes out
of your share of the profits.
- How is that not fair? - Moto doesn't just want
the pills...! He also wants my
heh-heh-heh-head! Non-metaph-phuh-phuh-phuh-phuh-
...phorically speaking, Pam, we got it.
Wait-- he's still gonna kill you?
Even if you give back the pills?
- Yes! - Oh, hey, hey, shh.
Come on. We're not gonna let the Yakuza kill you.
Although...
Christ on drums, people! What?!
Pam screwed the Yakuza out of a million bucks
of amphetamines, so now they're gonna cut her head off.
Wait-- since breakfast?!
- You had breakfast here?! - Ron!
And apparently, they've got your house completely
- surrounded, so... - So call
- the police. - 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! - So, then
- pay them! - With what?!
$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!
Been waiting forever to use that.
Why did you insult him?
A, "Chinese-y" is not an insult.
- Mm, no. - No, it totally is.
- Not to a Chinaman. - And B,
which is, like, so un-Chinesey, he doesn't even care
about money. He said it's a debt of honor,
and it can only be paid with Pam's blood.
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!
Don't even get me started on that.
How about get started on that list?
I'm not your secretary, Lana!
We don't really have weapons or ammo.
You're shitting me.
- Mm, no. - Ugh!
Whoa, I stand extremely corrected.
Yeah, and they're all loaded.
This was the best house to be a kid in.
Mmm, yeah, and so... anything post-World War I?
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. No, that's a terrible
- country song. - Here's your country
song right here!
Have you ever heard a country song?
Um, "Danger Zone"?
Okay, listen up, there are way too many windows and
doors to cover, so we need to concentrate on chokepoints.
Not that kind of chokepoints.
Chokepoints as in junctions, like the main foyer, the
kitchen, the top of the grand staircase, the...
What are you doing? Here.
- Noop... - What do you mean,
"noop"? Take it!
Woman, I am not getting in a shootout with the
goddamn Yakuza because you people decided to steal
- their drugs! - Well, I support you
in your work! Not that you ever do any, but...
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?
- A floor model. - Oh, for...
What the...?
Sterling?! What in the...?!
Hell does he think he is doing?
Going Josh Randall on these dicks!
Cheryl, build a fire and get some pokers hot!
Yeah, great, start
shooting. I can't wait to meet every cop
- in Manhattan. - Ugh, right, damn.
Hey, Carol, you got any old-timey silencers?
Silence, yes, aspire to that while I think of a plan.
Okay, Cheryl... Goddamn it, Archer!
I didn't do it! I was just...
Wha... Ron?!
- Ron! - Talk about a
floor model. Oh, come on, we were all
- thinking it. - Get down!
Tadashi, what is wrong
with you?! You shoot like an old
blind woman! You bring shame on your family!
Oh, my God, the darkness, babe, I'm slipping
- into the darkness! - They're just
- pulling the drapes! - Still, though...
And what is this? An ocelot pelt?!
- Wait, what?! - It was all
- I could find! - Oh, my God,
- if that's Babou...! - Ugh, I wish.
He's around here somewhere, either puking or pissing on
- something I care about. - Hey, so...
- Ron's gonna die? - Wait, Ron's
- gonna die?! - Aah, the darkness!
Especially if he goes into shock, which is why I'm
- speaking quietly. - Smart.
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...?
The only thing I can think of is all the
secret tunnels.
- I'm sorry? - Yeah, they go
everywhere. My... I want to say my
great-great-great-uncle? He built them trying to tap into
- the Underground Railroad. - Wait, did he think it
- was literally...? - A subterranean
- railroad, yeah, so... - So why'd he build a
- bunch of tunnels? - To capture
runaway slaves and sell them back to their rightful owners.
- Wow. - Ugh, whatever, can
- we...? - I want to say
his plan was to dress like a ghost?
Can we get Ron to a hospital?
Oh, totally. And then this one here goes all
the way up to Lenox Hill Hospital.
Jesus, that's like a mile.
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. - Okay, I think her
point was, with all this, your great-whatever uncle must have
really wanted to catch some slaves.
Oh, it bankrupted him, and the crazy
- part, is this was, like, 1890. - Will you hurry up?
We're losing him.
Ron, shut up! Okay, Carol, you know the
tunnels, you lead the group. Cyril and Pam, you carry Ron.
- Lana... - Why do I have to carry
- him? - Because remember
before when this whole goddamn thing was your fault?!
- Just asking. - Lana and Mother, you
should go with them, because my plan may not work.
- What plan? - Okay, this tunnel
here tees into a utility tunnel right in front of the house.
- So...? - So I need my slightly
darker-black black suit. Woodhouse!
Goddamn it, where the hell is he?
Slowly dying, for all anyone cares.
But the saddest part is no one does.
Oh, who cares?
Aw, quit your literal bellyaching.
Yeah, I'm staying. Because if your plan is what I
think it is, you are totally gonna need rescuing.
No, I'm not, Lana, so shut your dicktrap.
But if I do, I-I apologize for
that remark, and ask that you definitely do rescue me.
- Or avenge me as appropriate. - That's it, I'm
- staying, too. - What?
- You're picking him over me? - Oh, for... It's not a
competition, Ron! He's my child.
But seriously? A floor model?
Aw! What are you people, hourly?
Let's go here.
Are you
laughing at "dicktrap"?
Uh-huh, but seriously, though, if it comes
- down to it, please do rescue me. - Okay!
Sorry! I'm walking backwards here.
God, you're killing me here is what you're doing.
- Just try to stay calm. - Yeah, chill
out, Ray got shot in the stomach and he's, like, totally fine.
Here we go, stepping
it up! Hey-oh!
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.
I don't believe it. He made it.
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.
Uh... Konnichiwa?
Hmm? The door-san?
Thanks, Kato!
Yoshi!
I'm sorry, uh, Yoshi
- is indisposed. - You!
Me. Scrooch!
- You must know... - Hang on.
Oh, God.
Sorry, I don't want to get a dry socket.
You must know that even if you kill me, the Yakuza will
never forgive this debt of honor.
They will kill...
Right? That's so bad for your ears.
But I get it, the Bushido code, the whole Japanese thing, I get
- it, but... - What do you know about
- being Japanese? - I guess only the
clichés, really. Karaoke, pachinko, subway
- frottage... - Enough!
Hang on. Uh, tentacle porn, uh...
- Enough! - Hang on!
Those vending machines that sell used schoolgirl panties.
Okay, done. Now, here's what I propose.
- You dare to propose... - I swear to God I can
do that all day. I mean, to me, it sounds like
- bubble wrap. - What is your proposal?
I know the Yakuza will hunt us down forever, but I
bet you can forgive the debt of honor, right?
Only if blood has been shed.
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. - But...
Plus if you don't, I'll kill you.
Probably should have led with that.
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."
Well, at this point, the reds are wearing off
and the bourbon's kicking in, so, uh, you can pretty much name
it.
That is so true.
That was Cyril. Ron's in surgery, but the bullet
missed everything, and his prognosis is excellent.
Oh, my God, that's great, so...
- So win-win! - Wha..? Win-win?
- Ow! - 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!
What could possibly be funny?
The phone! It was Woodhouse's!
Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com