08x06 - Archer Dreamland: Waxing Gibbous

[bunniefuu]

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So, uh, what are we doing?

Are we just jumping
right into this, or...

Now, then, I assume I have
your undivided attention?

Uh-huh. Good.
Because you have mine.

And I am just dying to know

why I'm not rolling around
in a million dollars

like a kitten
with a million dollars.

- Grnk!
- Well? I'm waiting.

Grnk!

I'm sorry.
All I'm hearing is "gurnk."

Did someone named Gurnk take it?

Well?

I've got all night.
And he's hourly, so...

Oh! Oh, he wants the check.

No, I think a pen.

- Uh-huh.
- Damn it.

Palm.

Palm reader.

Uh-uh. Mmm...
palm reader?

- Uh-uh.
- Palm reader!

- Uh-uh!
- Palm... hand...

Oh. Ooh! Handwriting!
Handwriting!

Paper.

Uh-huh. Damn it!

There's a nice way to do that.

Hard surface.

I just adore parlor games.

When I was a little girl,
we used to...

Don't do that. - Do what?

- Humanize yourself.
- I don't know

what that idiot's
scribbling over there,

so there's still a chance

I'll have to mail
somebody your foot.

Ew. You don't know
the half of it.

What is this even
supposed to be?

Seriously?

Why didn't you just write it?

Palm reader!

Oh, just let him go.

Well, I actually
don't have all night.

Cops...

Cops took it.

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*ARCHER*
Season 08 Episode 06
"Archer Dreamland: Waxing Gibbous"

The cops took it.

Yes. Well,
isn't that convenient?

No. Actually,
it's extremely inconvenient, because...

Hang on.

Because then I have
to come back here to.

Frankenstein's bullshit

Common misconception.
Frankenstein was the doctor

and not the monster.

I would have gone
with pantagruel.

Oh, and the next time
you put your hands on me,

you better k*ll me.

Oh, I think that
goes without saying.

- Look, her brother...
- Ugh!

- shut up...
- Must've brought the cops,

and then they double-crossed him
and stole the ransom.

So I chased them, but then
Figgis sh*t out my tire, and...

- Figgis?
- Yeah. Him and Poovey, they...

Tell me this doesn't
have anything to do

with Trexler's missing whores.

Okay. Although,
come to think of it...

If Figgis doesn't square
things with Trexler,

he's walking around dead
and just doesn't know it yet.

Not unlike
Frankenstein's monster!

Or you.

And so, since you know
where those bent coppers

are taking the money...

Go get it!

Okay, but before that,

I haven't slept in, like,
literally four days, so...

I have Dexedrine.

- Gimme.
- Oh, and here.

You should also
take the codeine,

just in case you need to
smooth down the jagged edges.

Although
I'm not sure which is which.

I mean...

- Are you crazy?
- No. Shut up.

Come on. Listen.

Trexler doesn't know
we have the money...

- So...
- So what?

He knows I owe him the money!

Jesus, are you suicidal?

Me? Hell, no.

I've got tons to live for.

♪♪ "- Pomp and circumstance" playing...
Woman: Bai Poovey.

Chang Poovey.

Guong Poovey.

- g*dd*mn it.
- Jiang Poovey.

- I promised I wouldn't cry.
- Liling Poovey.

Well, promise broken!

Peng Poovey.

Oh, peng! Oh, he overcame Dyslexia!

- You, on the other hand...
- Wha... what about me?

No, just, you know,
you said "su1c1de."

And?

Oh, come on!

White? Divorced? Cop?

Access to a firearm?
Cuckold?

Statistically,
you're already dead.

Well, I am if we don't
take Trexler his money!

There were two cars chasing us
in the park, remember?

For all we know,
those were Trexler's guys!

Wha... how?

Trexler didn't even know
the drop was happening!

Well, then, who were they?
I don't know!

But whoever they were,
betcha they're pissed.

Throw me out of a g*dd*mn car,

ya limp-d*ck
gumshoe son of a bitch!

New dress all sh*t-housed.

New delman heel somewhere
in the g*dd*mn idiot woods.

Got grass and g*dd*mn dirt
up my cr*ck.

I swear to Christ,
when I find your ass,

you're gonna wish
I had d*ed, because...

Ahem.

Can I... help you?

I'm commandeering this vehicle.

You're what?

Commandeering this vehicle.

I'm a... a detective.
LAPD, so...

Look, lady...
And here,

obviously, I'm using
the word "lady"

in the very broadest
possible sense...

I'm sorry that prick Archer
shoved you out of a moving car,

but I am in no mood for...

Well, that, for one thing.

- Let's go, toots.
- I got places to be.

Okay. A, the free clinic's
not even open till 9:00...

Oh, Hardy-har-har.

And two...
What the...

Yeah. Who the hell do
you think you are?

Ohhh, sh*t.

Yeah. "Oh, sh*t."

Special Agent Lana Kane.

Um, uh, Trinette... Mcgoon.

Nice to meet ya,
Detective Mcgoon.

- I'm, uh, not really a cop.
- No sh*t.

So, what are you,
like, in the FBI?

No. The FBI doesn't have
any female agents.

They did have one...
Alaska P. Davidson...

- But J. Edna fired her.
- "J. Edna"?

Hoover. And trust me,

- history will not be kind to that man.
- How come?

Well, besides his being
a misogynistic,

anti-semitic,
anti-catholic r*cist...

Anti-catholic?

How do you
feel about cross-dressing?

Eh, I try not to judge people.

Well, then, you're
in the minority.

Yeah, speaking of, uh...

FBI? Literally,
maybe five n*gro Agents.

Actually, probably less...

- Fewer.
- Shut up. Since Marcus Garvey d*ed.

So, no, I work in
the Intelligence Unit

of the Internal Revenue Service.

- What? The IRS has cops?
- Yes!

Doing what?

- Uh, ever heard of al Capone?
- Seriously?

Well, he d*ed in prison,
thanks to the IRS.

He d*ed in prison thanks to
Tertiary Neurosyphilis.

- Well, okay, fine.
- Um, uh...

Oh, oh, the Lindbergh kidnapping.
The IRS solved that.

Oh, yeah, I bet they were so happy
to get their dead baby back.

- Don't be a twat.
- Fair enough.

I thought it was unfair

for mother to blame me
for the drop going tits-up.

After all, she was
supposed to be

helping me
find woodhouse's k*ller.

But so far, she's done nothing.
Right?

Hey, I said, "right?"
Oh, Jesus,

I thought I was talking
to a tramp or a dog, or...

Man, this Dexedrine
really does have an edge.

Better take one of
these Codeines.

Although I'm not sure
which is which,

or what I've
actually been taking.

So...

Better take one of each.

Mm. Well, or two, maybe.

Or three.

Three, and that's it. Done.

Okay, five.

So, what's wrong
with this thing?

There's a b*llet hole
in the radiator.

Yeah, there is.

- Eh, you got a raw potato?
- Uh, no.

- A raw egg?
- No.

Black pepper?
No, Trinette's Concussion!

You think I got a concussion?

Maybe, with your crazy
jibber-jabber

about Spanish omelet
ingredients!

Huh? Oh. No, dummy.

Those are just Jerry-rigged ways
to fix a leaky radiator.

Whaaat?

Throw a chunk of potato
or some pepper in there, cap it.

The steam pressure shoves it
in the hole and seals it up.

Same with an egg. Ya cr*ck it in,
it cooks on the way to the hole.

Bull... sh*t.

Aw, come on.
That's common knowledge.

It is absolutely not.

Why do you think it's called
the "potato compartment"?

Why do I think
the glove compartment

is called
the "potato compartment"?

"Glove compartment"?
Is this some Irish bullshit?

- Oh, now who's a r*cist?
- Oh, for the...

Even if I shoved an entire
uncooked breakfast in there...

- Which you wouldn't wanna do...
- All the water

already leaked out.

Well, yeah,
so you just piss in it.

- I think we should split up.
- What?

Yeah, you don't need me.

I'm just slowing you down.
So, uh...

Aw, come on.
Don't say that.

No, yeah, you should go.
Away.

- Ya sure?
- So very.

Well, okay, then.
I...

Guess I'll just ride
with this mook.

What the...

Good evening, ladies.

Ah! Why are you here, Mr.
Vandertunt?

In the hope the kidnappers
left my bag behind.

It was a gift.

Well, you're out of luck.

And those cops you brought

- stole the money.
- What? Those finks!

Yeah, that prick Archer said

one of 'em owed a bunch
of money to len Trexler.

Well, then, that's
where we're going.

We're commandeering
this vehicle.

Can obvious prostitutes do that?

I'm not an obvious prost*tute!
She's a T-man, ya dummy.

Wow! I would not
have guessed that.

Not a tr*nsv*stite,
a Treasury Agent!

And quit blabbing that around.
Bel-air road.

Go!
Yes, sir!

"Ma'am"! Sorry! However
you self-identify!

Ugh!
Will you calm down?

I just wanna get some hot water!

Well, you'll be in hot water
if you try to sneak off

before Archer comes back
with that ransom money.

I heard you! Tsk!

You make being
kidnapped just awful.

There's a reason they
say "kidnapping victim"

and not "kidnapping winner."

Krieger: What's that? -

Don't you have a house to haunt?

No.

And what is that?
What do you have?

Um...

Nothing.

I think it was something.

Boy, you don't miss a trick.

We'll see how funny you are
hopping around on one foot.

That actually does sound funny.

And wait. Weren't you
wearing a Polo uniform?

- Did you go home and change?
- I did, yes.

In all the excitement of the
ransom drop, I evacuated.

Yeah, well, I would've
hightailed it too.

No, no, no, no.
Common misconception.

When a person evacuates,

it means they empty
their bladder and bowels.

- Ew! Well, I'm sorry.
- I didn't invent Latin.

- Oh. Ooh. So what do you call this?
- No.

- What, the potato compart...
- No.

- Spud box?
- No!

- Tater hutch.
- Rrrrrgh!

I knew we'd
get there eventually.

Can we eventually
get to Trexler's?

I mean, presumably.

Ugh! I swear to God...

Poovey, if you don't shut up...

No, you shut up!
Come on! Wait!

It's not too late to turn back.

Yes. It is.

And why the hell are you
so desperate for money?

Because you know how
much it's gonna cost

to send a kid to Stanford in
1967?

I know if you don't shut up,

you won't have to
worry about it,

because I'm gonna sh**t you
in the... genitals!

Huh. Now, why would
the door be open?

Maybe he's got a selfish partner

who left the door
open on purpose

so his new puppy
could get run over by a car.

Oh, and the puppy's name
is dreams!

Oh, go ahead.

Blow it off!

Something's
not right, you idiot.

Oh.

Cecil:
So, trinette, as a prost*tute,

how do you feel
about role-playing...

- Whatever fluffs your feathers.
- Please let me finish.

Where the story
revolves around Merkins,

mistaken identities, and incest.

Ew! And it's a musical.

No, you lumpy little pervert!

- What happened to not judging people?
- There's a limit.

Well, yes, of course.

That's why we would
have a safe word...

That only I would know!

You're Weird.

Oh, man. Never gets old.

I don't wanna sound greedy,
but maybe, if I'm lucky,

I can get the money
and get Figgis m*rder*d.

Whoa. I...

I may have over-smoothed.

Yeah, definitely a little
too smooth, because...

Hang on.
Did I just open that?

No, dummy.
You just got here. Hey!

Come on, Archer.
Get your sh*t together.

Door wide open,
none of Trexler's g*ons around?

Something smells fishy.

But also...

Kind of like cuy.

I know.
It sounds disgusting,

but trust me,
it is utterly delicious.

And taboo!
Jesus Christ!

Your family tree must look
like a telephone pole.

Ugh! Seriously.

Okay. There's Archer's car,
the cops...

Park behind them.

And both of you wait here.

With pleasure.

I'm not staying
out here with him.

Okay. Trinette, come with me.
You stay here.

- But...
- No "buts!"

except yours, in that seat!

- Those...
- I know! They're h*m*!

- Now sit!
- Oh, all right.

I suppose I could use this time
to constantly honk the horn.

Oh, my God! This place is amazing!

Sorry. I'm just
extremely wealthy.

And loud.
Now, shut up and...

Oh, wait a minute.
Why would the door be open?

Was that rhetorical?

No. Now come on.

Because it could've been left
open for any number of reasons.

Only some of which are sinister.

You are so lucky
I don't have a sil*ncer.

I'm also just lucky in general.

Did you hear that?
Obviously.

Do you think it was
one of Trexler's g*ons?

- Oh, boy, I hope so.
- You know, as opposed to a ghost.

There's just so few of them
who are friendly.

I mean, basically you got...

Casper?

What the...

Was that a lighter?
Can we smoke?

Shut up! And no!

It's medicinal.

- Ooh, gimme.
- Shh!

Stay here.

Mm-Kay.

Before this is over,

please, don't be surprised
if I sh**t you.

Mm-Kay.

What the... holy sh*t!

Is that...

Marijuana?

Oh, come on.
Give it a rest.

- Give what a rest?
- Oh, my God. Look,

how or why you did it,
I don't know, and I don't care,

but I know burnt pubes
when I smell 'em!

First of all, I... wait.

Why do you know
what burnt pubes smell like?

Because I grew up on a farm.

Oh! Son of a...

- What was that?
- Hold this.

Gonna do your armpits?

Huh.

That's not very Casper-y.

Do... do you think
it's Trexler's?

Oh, please! With your luck?

Oh, sweet mother of Christ!

Wh-what the hell
is happening?

- And why the hell are you here?
- That's it?

No "sorry I shoved you
out of a moving frickin' car"?

I said sorry in advance.
And what are you doing here?

And, follow up, why do
you have a g*n? Uh...

Because, you d*ck,
she's a... Trinette!

She means "tr*nsv*stite." I'm...

- What?
- I am not a...

Is that why
your hands are so big?

I'm not a tr*nsv*stite,
you idiot!

For the... we had sex!

Ooh. Yeah, but I
wasn't down there.

- Oh, I know.
- No, like down there down there.

Believe me, I know.

Well, that's not very Casper-y.
Poovey!

Aha!
Where's the money?

And the bag that contains it.

I don't know.

Well, then, I guess
I'll be on my way.

- Really?
- No! Aw.

Figgis, get your ass out here!

No. I'm protecting
the ransom money.

From what?
All these witnesses?

Can't have anything nice.

Certainly not clothes.
Stuff it, shamus.

Mr. Vandertunt!

You'll be happy to know
we recovered the ransom money.

- So...
- Well, the main,

thing is the bag, bud.

But, unfortunately,

all of this has to be
entered into evidence...

- Where anything can happen to it.
- Oh, right.

- So, can we...
- No, no, no, no.

First I need to count it to make
sure you didn't steal any.

On what possible legal grounds?

Uh, uh, citizen's arrest?

- Not a real thing.
- You wanna bet?

Do you?

- Kind of.
- Can we...

- Poovey.
- Huh? Oh.

- Lana, you wanna...
- I wanna talk about the fact

that we're standing
in a Cranberry bog of blood!

Well, it is a full moon, so...

It's actually a waxing gibbous.

Oh. Then never mind.

- Were you gonna say a Werewolf?
- No.

- Or was I
- Help!

- Holy sh*t!
- That's Trexler!

It came from this way.
Come on.

Figgis, you lead the way. Go.

- Help!
- I... I hate to say this,

but... I almost kind of hope
there's a Werewolf.

Not even as a joke!

Jesus Christ!

Oh, please, help me.

I think I would've
preferred Werewolf.

Who... who did this
to you?

What's happening, g*ng?

Synchronized by srjanapala

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