Archer

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?

- (Muffled yelling) - Well?

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

- (Muffled gagging) - Oh! Oh, he wants the check.

- (Muffled gagging continues) - No, I think a pen.

- (Muffled) Uh-huh. - Damn it.

- (Gags) - Palm.

Palm reader.

Uh-uh. Mmm... palm reader?

- Uh-uh. - Palm reader!

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

Oh. Ooh! Handwriting! Handwriting!

- (Muffled yelling, gagging) - 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...

(Mother:) 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?

- (Charlotte:) Seriously? - (Muffled gag)

Why didn't you just write it?

- (Muffled gag) (Gasps) - Palm reader!

(Frustrated, muffled yelling, gagging)

Oh, just let him go.

Well, I actually don't have all night.

: Cops...

Cops took it.

*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 kill 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 shot 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. - (Clears throat)

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?

- (Chuckling) - Me? Hell, no.

I've got tons to live for.

Chang Poovey.

Guong Poovey.

- (Inhales sharply) Goddamn it. - Jiang Poovey.

- I promised I wouldn't cry. (Sniffles) - Liling Poovey.

Well, promise broken!

- (Blows nose loudly) - Peng Poovey.

Oh, peng! Oh, he overcame Dyslexia!

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

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

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 Goddamn car,

ya limp-dick gumshoe son of a bitch!

New dress all shit-housed.

New delman heel somewhere in the Goddamn idiot woods.

Got grass and Goddamn dirt up my crack.

I swear to Christ, when I find your ass,

you're gonna wish I had died, 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, shit.

Yeah. "Oh, shit."

Special Agent Lana Kane.

Um, uh, Trinette... Mcgoon.

Nice to meet ya, Detective Mcgoon.

- I'm, uh, not really a cop. - No shit.

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 racist...

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 Negro Agents.

Actually, probably less...

- Fewer. - Shut up. Since Marcus Garvey died.

So, no, I work in the Intelligence Unit

- of the Internal Revenue Service. - (Laughing)

- What? The IRS has cops? - Yes!

Doing what?

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

Well, he died in prison, thanks to the IRS.

He died in prison thanks to Tertiary Neurosyphilis.

Well, okay, fine. Um, uh... (Mutters)

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 killer.

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 bullet 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 crack it in, it cooks on the way to the hole.

Bull... Shit.

Aw, come on. That's common knowledge.