Agent Elvis - First Season

Oh! Love it!

"Trouble"! One of the greatest Elvis songs of all time.

How was the sound?

Hell yeah. Felt great.

But since that song's about beating the shit out of somebody,

which is great in its own way,

maybe we try something more...

Christmassy?

Yeah. I'm having kinda second thoughts about the whole Christmas angle.

I hear you. Great. Good thought.

So, let's try one with Tiny Tim and the Elvis Elves.

Thoughts?

Ladies.

Oh, for fuck's sake, Scatter.

I guess "Wait in the limo" is a little too open-ended, huh?

What the hell?

You said we'd get to hang out with Elvis.

Now, you realize that vest has pockets, right?

Hello?

Oh hey, baby. Did I call too late?

Only for one of us, and she's sound asleep.

Well, give her a kiss for me, will you?

You sound tired, baby. You doing okay?

I don't know, 'Cilla.

Feels like the world out there is going insane, and I'm stuck here

doing a shitty Christmas show the Colonel locked me into.

Aw, I'm sure the show will be great.

Yeah. You mean the one with the Elvis Elves?

Come on. "Elvis Elves"?

Trust me, it's actually worse than it sounds.

No way.

Hello? 'Cilla?

Hey, ace, what happened to the phone?

Sorry, just trying to speed things up.

Speed what up?

My job. Killing you.

Oh, and for whatever reason,

they wanted you to hear this while you, you know, die.

Did he just say, "Killing me"?

Goulet?

Well, this fucking day just keeps getting better and better.

Damn it, Scatter! You shot me!

I swear to God, I should have never gotten out of bed this morning.

Oh what, huh?

I'm not allowed to have a bad day?

Aw, shit!

Look here, pal. I've had a shit day, so I'm gonna go ahead and kick your ass.

Hyah!

Huh? What in the hell?

Holy shit. Is that Elvis?

Sorry about that.

Oh my God, Elvis. That was amazing.

What was all that?

Oh that? Yeah.

You know, that... That was a rehearsal.

It's what I'm doing for my new TV show.

Jesus, is that guy okay?

Oh yeah, that's just fake blood, everybody.

And that there is fake, uh...

Well, whatever that is. And...

What's the new show called?

Rise and shine, asshole.

Oh, where am I?

Oh, you are fucking dead. I'll fucking...

Jesus Christ.

You gotta be dumber than a mud fence to be talking right now.

That's my friend, Bobby Ray.

You might want to listen to him.

Which house rule am I thinking about right now?

Definitely not the one about personal space.

You promised none of your vigilante nonsense in this house, remember?

Won't even know we're here, Miss Bertie.

Hey, when I get out of this, I'm gonna fucking...

More or less.

Mm.

That was Bertie, my rock.

Runs everything around here, known me since I was in diapers.

And speaking of diapers, you see my chimp, Scatter, over there with the hand cannon?

That is a problem for you, friend.

You see, I decided a while ago,

I wasn't gonna just sit around while this country's torn apart

by all the chaos, the dirtbag hippies, the drugs, the crime.

No, no, no, not on my watch.

But Scatter here?

Hell, he just does it because he gets off to it.

Not where I was going with that.

You know, here's an idea.

Maybe try not being disgusting all the time,

including in the hot tub that you clogged with your damn monkey spunk.

That filter looked like a war crime!

Look at me. Here and now is where you tell me who sent you to kill me.

Fuck you, singer boy.

They're not paying me to talk.

They? Well, who the hell's "they"?

Now you listen to me, scumbag. I promise you Scatter's going to pull that trigger...

Oh fuck!

"If"!

Goddamn it, Scatter. I was gonna say, "If" he didn't talk!

Not sticking up for the chimp here, boss, but it was a little confusing.

So...

is this me not knowing you're here?

Just a little hiccup, Miss Bertie.

Just a little hiccup. Everything's fine.

Though technically the living room has seen better days.

You know, there are ways

to turn you into a quarter-sleeve cardigan.

You need to clean this up, now.

Because that sweater thing sounded real specific.

Yeah. Like I know where the mop is.

Pull!

I swear this crime-fighting crap's gonna get you killed one day.

Yeah, but this one wasn't my fault.

The guy with the exploded head started the whole damn thing.

Just like that, huh?

All I know is somebody wants me dead.

Pull!

You know, my money's on them Bolivians.

Negatory.

All those guys are not really around anymore.

What is that? A to-go bag?

Put that shit back.

Hey! What about that mob guy you ran into in Miami

when you were doing that Sinatra show?

Definitely not him.

There's that biker gang from last month.

Not after that explosion, there isn't.

Or maybe just another jealous husband

sick of his wife flooding her basement every time you're on the TV... Ow!

Doesn't really narrow it down, does it?

Besides, though, this felt different. This guy... This guy was a pro.

You even hear yourself?

I promised your mama I was gonna look after you,

but if she was alive today, she'd...

Say, "Thank you, Elvis, for trying to make the world a better place."

"You're such a good boy, Elvis. How about a snack?"

Oh, and then Mom would probably cover her ears,

because this is going to get real loud.

Wait, wait, wait! Check it out, E.

Got bored and souped up a pair of your sunglasses for you.

Yeah.

Watch this.

Hang on.

What happened to all the Christmas stuff? There was a bunch of tinsel and shit.

I'm taking this thing over.

It's not gonna be a Christmas special anymore.

Well, what then?

Glad you asked, buddy.

Because if I can dream, this show's gonna make a statement.

- A statement? - Damn straight.

Just full-tilt rock and roll, boys,

how we used to do it before all the movies and all the bullshit.

Now, that, my chiseled friend, is what I'm talking about.

Just you and the boys cranking it out.

Already got Scotty and DJ on a plane.

- Blowing the fucking doors off. - Always.

If we deck this place out with, like, a shit-ton of balloons...

- What? - ...multicolored streamers,

and... Ooh! Bunting.

Absolutely not. Go get the car.

Excuse me.

Well, well, well. Lady One, Lady Two, Lady Three.

Yes, ma'am, yes, ma'am, and yes, ma'am. Now, how'd you get in here?

Any chance we can get a picture?

Well, sure thing, you bet. Come here now.

Okay, last one, I swear.

Sure, anything for the fans.

Which you, apparently, are not.

Okay, piggy, let's see those teeth.

- Say... - Wait. I think I know this one.

Cheese, dipshits!

Hyah!

Now that's what I'm talking about.

That was fucking weird, huh?

- What the hell was all that? - Just doing my job.

- Sorry? - Don't be. Later, gator!

Uh, okay.

I have a few notes.

You mind telling me what the hell's going on?

Okay, this is gonna sound a little/extremely weird, but

you're on a kill list.

I know. Sucks, am I right?

Hey, what's up, boss man?

Think I might be on a kill list.

Hmm. Well, that sucks.

Scatter, you got her?

Oh, you sure this is a good idea, E?

When someone says, "Kill list," I've got a few follow-up questions.

No. I mean, trusting the chimp to track some woman's... lady parts scents.

Scatter's got it.

Does he? Because last time we tried this,

we ended up at Gloria Steinem's crawfish boil.

You boys stay with the car,

which means not buying coked-up hookers, he said really clearly this time.

If I'm not back in five, come and get me.

Mr. Presley?

You got room for one more?

Of course, sir. Let me just check.

At ease, ace. Wasn't really asking.

Now, there she is. Never got your name.

No. And there's a reason for that.