06x02 - Soldier of Misfortune

[bunniefuu]

When can I try her out, Hank? I bet she's got enough power to lift me off the ground! It's a leaf blower, Bill, not a jetpack.

Guess who's running for an unprecedented fourth term as president of the Arlen g*n Club? I'll give you a hint.

He made love to my wife last night.

Dang it, Dale.

I didn't let Bill put a personal ad up there and I sure as hell won't let that up.

Macaroon? I've got entrance-wound size and exit-wound size.

Dale, every year I vote for you just to get my hands on one of your fine macaroons.

Well, in that case, Jim, take two and vote twice.

That's a good one.

Mad Dog, cookie? Hats off, boys.

It's the First Lady.

If you're not going to respect the man, Mad Dog, at least respect the office.

Gribble, I wouldn't vote for a clown like you if I had a g*n to my head.

See? Hey! Watch your mouth, Mad Dog! While you were safely tucked away in prison Dale was out there kicking ass for the highest bidder.

Yeah.

Right.

Or don't you get Soldier of Fortuie in the hole? Paid ad don't mean nothing.

I bought a Kn*fe from an ad in the back of that magazine.

Said it wouldn't break off in a man's skull.

Crap.

Tell him, Dale.

Tell him about the time you assassinated that Central American dictator.

- Yeah! - Again? Gladly.

The generalissimo was guarded better than a Mafia don's virgin daughter.

We needed the element of surprise so me and my team showed up disguised as flower-delivery men.

He answers the door, thinking someone sent him a bouquet of roses.

But instead he's pushing up daisies! That's a good one.

Well, I'll be danged! An accidental discharge.

Come on, guys! Lighten up.

- Anyone want a beer? - Yeah.

- Sure.

- Read my mind.

Dale had ai accideital discharge Stop laughing at me! - I'm a laughingstock! - Dale, calm down.

In a couple of weeks, I'm sure one of those guys will accidentally sh**t off someone's toe, and this'll all be forgotten.

Oh, God! If that happened, I'd kiss his bloody nub.

Fresh batch of macaroons, Jim? Whoa! Don't sh**t! Good one, Jim.

Very topical.

I'll just put the cookies over on the You're going down, Gribble.

And unlike your macaroons, you're staying down.

Hey, Dale, you look kind of sad for a guy who's in a propane dealership.

Mad Dog's challenging me for president and he's already got the Black vote.

Earl.

And the gay vote.

Earl.

So things are gonna be a little tense with Earl.

You're still gonna win the election.

You don't understand.

Me having an accidental discharge is like you giving a sales pitch for a grill and not even mentioning the convenient warming plate.

I can't even No.

God, no! God, yes! Mad Dog's even sent out invitations to his inauguration party.

Why did I pull my g*n during the flower-delivery story? Because it makes it more exciting! But now look at me! Mommy! It's burning! - Oh, that hurts! - I'm unfit to carry a w*apon.

How long am I gonna have to look at Dale moping around in his underwear? Oh, there goes the underwear.

I can honestly say this is the first time I've ever seen anyone as depressed as I am.

- It's scary.

- We've gotta do something to help him.

Tell you what, man, I broke up with a chick Just give Could give a little ol', dang ol' little puppy, man.

That's a great idea! We'll give Dale a dog.

Nice work, Boomhauer.

I have to say, I am not wowed by the puppy idea.

But here's what we do know.

A g*n is a penis substitute.

So Dale losing the g*n Club presidency is like Dale losing his - Penis? - Exactly! Now, how do we give Dale back his penis? We anonymously answer his Soldier of Fortuie ad and send him on a mission even a moron could do.

When he completes it he will happily be back in his pathetic little bubble of self-delusion! And kudos to me for coming up with the idea.

Macaroon? You, too? This is Dale.

Yes, I'm calliig about your ad, It's a sky-blue Schwinn in 68%% mint condition.

I'm calling about your Soldier of Fortuie ad.

I'm paid up.

My wife sent the check last week.

I'm tryiig to hire you, you idiot, Who is this? You don't know me.

But my name is Frank! It's Frank Hill! Wait, no.

- Fred.

- Fred Hill.

Mr.

Big.

My name is Mr.

Big.

Yes, yes, yes! Are you available for a top-secret mission tomorrow? Let me check my appointment book.

Kidnap, kidnap, coup.

Sure, I can squeeze you in.

Excellent.

Mr.

Big is pleased.

Tomorrow at 2:00 p.

m.

, go to the bus station.

We'll call you with further instructions.

Daddy's back! Coconutty.

- How long we been on stakeout? - Three minutes.

- I'm starving.

- We'll get a snack after.

And I'm horny.

- Go.

- This is Mr.

Big, I tell you what.

In the lobby, you will find an aluminum briefcase underneath a bench.

Tell him to get a Twix bar from the vending machine.

Take the briefcase to the skating rink across town and put it in the dumpster.

Twix! Briefcase! What the hell are you doing? Give it.

Pocket sand! He took the wrong briefcase! Dang it, Dale! The falcon has the egg.

By egg, I mean briefcase.

Oh, and this is Dale, from the ad.

There's been a change in plans.

Your new mission is to take the briefcase to the lost and found at the bus station.

Wait a minute.

I don't recall a change in plans being in the original plan.

What exactly am I carrying in this case? I'll ask the questions around here, Gribble.

And right now I don't have any.

It's dr*gs, isn't it? Well, if you want a mule, go to the pet store, Big! Mercenary.

"To Zander.

Happy Birthday.

Love, Daddy.

" Daddy? There's no dr*gs! Oh, my God, I've been set up! - Where are the dr*gs? - What dr*gs? The dr*gs that the drug lord will search for in each and every one of my cavities when I present him with an empty teddy bear.

I can't die on my first mission! It's bad for business! Thank God, Hank! Someone's trying to k*ll me! And this time I'm not just saying that to get attention! I should have known it was too good to be true.

Fourteen years I've been running that ad.

Not one call! Then suddenly, one call.

I'm being set up.

But who hates me? No one! Wait.

Mad Dog.

But who would stand to gain from k*lling me? No one! Wait.

Mad Dog.

Mr.

Big is Mad Dog! What? No, no! Mr.

Big is not Mad Dog! Mr.

Big is not Mad Dog.

Oh, God, I'm a dead man.

If you guys are seen with me, Mr.

Big will k*ll you, too! So get out of here.

Hank, Boomhauer, you got a lot to live for! Bill, you can stay or go, doesn't matter.

- Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.

- Dale, what are you doing? I'm gonna k*ll Mr.

Big before he kills us! Mr.

Big's gonna k*ll us! Quick, Nancy! Plan 51 Tango! What are you talking about, sug'? Fifty-one Tango! In the event of a hostile takeover of the g*n Club resulting in a Dale-threatening situation, I flee to Costa Rica! Why do we even have the drills if you aren't gonna pay attention? Well, I don't hear any girlish screams.

So either Dale's not here yet or he's dead.

The invitation says we're supposed to bring chips and dip.

We ain't got no chips and dip! Trespassers.

If I sh**t them, I'm going back to jail.

But I can't not sh**t them.

Dang, man.

You can talk about a - Bill, watch out! - What? I'm too fat! I'm too fat! Hang on, fellas.

Help is on the way! I'm okay.

This skeleton broke my fall.

Joseph, I waited at the mall for two hours.

You know I don't trust anyone else's opinion on swimsuits.

Sorry.

I had to cut my hair to make a moustache for my dad.

We're going on a trip.

- In my dad's truck? - Your dad gave it to me.

He's buying a convertible.

I wasn't supposed to say anything but here it is.

He's having a midlife crisis.

He'll probably leave your mother, and it's partially your fault.

Now, be good boys and go get my flip-flops.

They're under the couch.

Oh, and bring the couch.

See that nasty stain on the carpet? Well, you better start talking, or you're gonna end up just like the guy who spilled that red wine.

Okay, okay, just calm down.

You seem like a reasonable fellow, so you'll probably get a chuckle out of this.

- Dale's coming to k*ll you! - I knew it! Now, how's he planning on doing it? Hey, man, what are you talking about? I don't know a dang ol' thing, man.

Playing dumb, huh? Oh, good.

Now I get to t*rture you.

Jim! Go get your jumper cables.

There wasn't anything on the invitation about taking hostages.

Fifteen minutes ago we were talking about microwaving a pizza! What happened here? What's that? Man, that dang ol' cell phone.

I could be talking to Shavonne, man.

You know, we were gonna go have dinner, rent a movie you know, make a movie, too, man.

Maybe I can hit the redial button with my nose and call for help.

- It's our only hope.

- Go for it! - Beep! The number you have-- - Dale, it's Haik, Mad Dog is holdiig us prisoier at his house, Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, Hank! Joseph, forget the flip-flops! Just get the couch! Is that my dad? If he's not gonna make it home for dinner ask him if I can have his pork chop.

Bobby, you'll be having your dad's pork chop every night for the rest of your life.

Wait.

That's the saddest thing I've ever heard.

Retraction.

Bobby, you will not be having your dad's pork chop tonight or any other night.

You hear that, Hank? Bobby's not having your pork chop, damn it! - I'm on my way! - No, Dale, Just call the cops, Oh, my God! What the hell are you doing? Nothing.

I swear.

I was just calling for help! Give me that! Oh, my God! Come on.

- Get down! - No! - Dale, did you call the cops? - Cops? Relax, Hank.

You're with a professional soldier of fortune.

You are not a soldier of fortune! You're not a soldier of anything! The only soldier here is Bill, and he cuts hair.

I'm so scared.

You're nothing but a bunch of stories you read in a magazine written by bigger liars than you.

You want me to save us from Mr.

Big or not? Dang it, Dale.

Mad Dog is not Mr.

Big, I am Mr.

Big.

- No, you're not.

- I am Mr.

Big.

But I've known you since the second grade! When did this happen? First grade? It happened when you sh*t that stupid cash register.

We sent you on a phony mission.

No, it was more like a phony errand.

And you couldn't even get that right.

I was just trying to make you feel better without having to talk to you.

Now, which one of you fellows has always been afraid of drowning? Mad Dog, you'll want to hear this.

My friends were just asking about my work for the CIA.

Knock it off, Dale.

There's no way they'd let one of their contract K*llers die in a situation like this.

What? Copy that.

What are you doing? Who are you talking to? He's talking to me.

Yeah.

Copy that.

Okay, Dale.

Talk to you later.

In about two minutes, a CIA SWAT team is gonna swarm this place like flies on Bill.

You're bluffing.

Dale, shut up or you're gonna get us k*lled.

You know, you'd be amazed how a few flowers could really brighten up this room.

Oh, my God! Dale's flower-delivery-man routine? It's the CIA! We ain't scared of the CIA! Right, men? Jim, go in the kitchen and get my box of grenades.

- Third shelf behind the cake mix.

- No way! I'll have cake with you anytime, but you sh**t your own feds! Yeah, Mad Dog! There's only one man I'd take a b*llet for and he's home making my supper! So that's how it's gonna be? Well, you can put those flowers on your graves.

I'm flying free.

Oh, man! By the size of those bouquets, they're packing some serious heat.

Dale, call them off! Please, Dale! They'll listen to you.

You're one of them.

- I'll make it up to you.

I swear! - Well, I could.

But calling off the CIA seems like a job best suited for the president of the g*n Club.

All in favor of re-electing Dale Alvin Gribble who's currently running on the "Save your sorry asses" platform - say aye.

- Aye! I got 47 dozen roses for a Dale Gribble.

How embarrassing.

I seem to have forgotten all my money.

I knew he was a company man.

He's flashing his CIA badge.

But that guy's my best friend, and he'll cover me.

Holy smokes! He dropped the hammer on Mad Dog! I'll just slip away and live to fight another day.

I'll be damned if I let those jack-booted thugs put my yearbook photo all over the CNN! It got pretty hairy in there.

I've seen hairier.

Well, I haven't.

But then again, I'm not a professional mercenary.

Nice work, Dale.

I mean, nice work, Dale.

Wait a minute.

Did we untie Bill? I'm okay.

I just fell in the hole again.

One more time, Dale.

Tell us the story about how you saved all of us from Mad Dog.

Again? Gladly.

It was 3:00 p.

m.

yesterday.

The g*n Club was filled with the smell of intrigue and coconut.

I needed to know who I could trust.

So I pretended to accideitally discharge my weapoi iito the cash register, Mr, Big is pleased,