Archer

And so, if I could direct your attention to these

visual aids... you will see that from our

initial supply of 1,000 kilos of cocaine, we...

Hang on, dummy, we had a ton of cocaine.

No, we... Well, we had a tonne, T-O-N-N-E, also known

- as a metric ton, but... - Metric.

- Who uses metric? - Every single country on

the planet except for us, Liberia and Burma.

- Wow, really? - Yup.

'Cause you never think of those other two as

- having their shit together. - Anyway, as you can

- see... - Why are they

thermometers?

I thought they were cocks.

- Wait, they're not? - No... they... are...

- not... cocks! - Okay! Jesus, you people.

Next time, remind me to get shot in the head.

Uh, Ron, next time, get shot in the head.

Sterling, shut up. Cyril, continue.

So, as you can see, we are already down to 125

kilos of cocaine, which was worth about $6 million, so...

And, wait, how much is that in pounds?

Forget pounds! We're doing kilos!

- No, I meant pounds... - Sterling!

Exactly. As in Doctor Who money.

How do you stand there and crack wise when this

- is all your fault? - My fault?

I only lost 44.092 pounds of it, mother.

It's Pam's fault we had to give the Yakuza 100 kilos.

And this other five-- spoiler alert-- she ate!

Yeah, and would now be a good time to talk about Pam's

- cocaine addiction? - Or the inspiring story

of her heroic struggle to finally triumph over it?

- What are you eating? - Yogurt!

Give me that!

- Hey! - Lick it.

Well, can't unhear that.

Holy shit, yogurt is amazing! Why have I never tried yogurt?!

How have you never tried yogurt?

Mmm, I didn't know it was that good.

It's good because it's cocaine!

Oh, my God. And little kids eat it?

Cyril, you said it was locked up.

It is. In the cage in the pantry.

Then how did she get it?

That is it! You're going to rehab.

What?! No, I can't! And you can't make me!

Yeah, is that even necessary?

I think she's in a pretty good place.

She's going and that's final, and...

I swear to God, if you send me to freakin' rehab, I'll

- go right to the cops! - What?!

- Oh, come on. - You wouldn't dare.

Oh, yeah?! Just try...

Goddamn, Woodhouse.

Only thing for a grass, mum.

And, sir, I'm afraid your breakfast will be four minutes late.

Typical.

What are you doing? Come on. Tighter.

Oh, for the... That's tight enough-- we're not making

- tit bondage porn. - That's a thing?

Oh, yeah.

Ditto. I just don't want her to escape.

You know how strong she is. Might as well be green and

half-deaf. - What if we move the

coke and lock her in the cage till she's clean?

Hey, yeah, sweat it out, like Popeye Doyle.

- How long would that take? - I don't know.

- Couple of weeks? - Try couple of never.

This is Pam we're talking about, the poster child for addictive

personality. What is wrong with you?

I learned it by watching you.

- Oh, my God. - Yeah, spoiler alert.

- So, what do you suggest we do? - We throw her

a party. With an enormous cake!

Cyril, can we spare another five pounds of cocaine?

- Malory! - 2.27 kilograms, then!

Who are you, Thomas Corwin Mendenhall?

- Right? - We're not killing Pam!

- Wait, what? - Jesus. Oh, come on in.

- Make some more noise. - Just 'cause

- now you're the fat one? - Um, I said we were not

- killing her. - Oh.

And, also, this is a baby.

- Ew! - A baby, by the way,

that I did not eat but to which I will give birth.

- Ew! - Right?

Well, if she won't go to rehab and you won't let her

- die with dignity... - From an overdose of

- cocaine cake?! - Oh, please.

Change the word "cocaine" to "Cookie Puss" and that's how her

obituary was going to read anyway.

- What the... - I may have a simply

- elegant solution. - Krieger.

Right? This place is like a Habitrail--

there are secret passages everywhere.

I think that's why the colored maids never felt

safe. They'd be polishing a spittoon

or whatever and suddenly... Grandpa.

Yeah. And dressed up like a

- ghost? - What is it with your

family wearing ghost costumes to scare black people?

What is it with you people making tit bondage

- pornos in my ancestral home?! - Ah, einige

- Tittenfreude, huh? - Ooh, ja.

So what's all this about a solution?

Aha! Yes. And what is on my finger, you

- ask? - I promise you no one is

- asking that. - Well, they should

because this nearly microscopic, wittle-bitty guy is my new and

- improved mind control chip. - Improved?

On the one that made Len Trexler think he was a giant lettuce?

Len Trexler...

Who the hell is Len Trexler?

- Never heard of him. - It's way improved,

and look how tiny. I don't even need a drill-- I

can inject it right through the temple.

- Wait, what are we doing? - Stabbing science into

- your brain. - What?!

It's for your own good, dear.

Yeah, so you don't wind up giving blow jobs in a

bus station toilet. But for cocaine.

No! Let me go!

Krieger, do you think a chip could cure someone of

- stage fright? - No way!

- Noop! - But you could be

- famous. - I could be

- lettuce! - Now, you listen to

me, missy. You are getting a brain chip,

and then you're going on the Grand Old Opera, and I don't

care if it kills you be...

Pam, honey, just calm

down!

Somebody do something!

- Nobody do anything! - Lana...

Lana!

- Krieger! - Yeah, I'm on it.

Ow! Idiot.

- Pam! - Lana...!

This is only somewhat like that old Gypsy

- woman said...! - Lana.

What?! God shit damn it, Archer, what?!

- Um, never mind. - Archer, I s...

The last thing you need right now is a big,

shit-eating "I told you so."

But it's exactly what you deserve.

And, Krieger, I hope you have a lot more where this came from

- because... - Super.

Hunting women to force them to have surgery against their will.

It's for Pam's own good.

She'll die if she doesn't quit eating cocaine.

And who's gonna die if you don't get rich managing

- Cheryl's singing career? - Maybe you.

Now, get out there and have some fun!

How could we not?

Woodhouse, I swear to God, if you tell me lunch is four

- minutes late... - No, sir.

There's a Mr. Holly here. Sorry, an Agent Holly.

From the FBI.

But lunch is still a firm twelve.

Firm twelve.

You know, as in inches? Jesus, .3048 meters.

Hi. Welcome to Nazi Canada!

Eh?

- Why is the FBI here? - Did he show you a warrant?

No, sir, he...

Then tell him to go piss off-- he can't come inside

- without a warrant. - He...

Well, unless you invite him in.

He's not a vampire, idiot.

- If... - Plus it's daytime.

If invited in, law enforcement can enter your home

without a warrant. Once inside, under the doctrine

of "plain view," anything illegal-- say, a truckload of

cocaine in the kitchen-- can be lawfully seized as evidence.

They can also enter a private residence under any number of

exigent circumstances, like providing emergency assistance

to an occupant, say, if they heard someone screaming...

- Good morning. - No, sir, good day.

I insist that you leave immediately, as you have entered

- this residence unlawfully. - Uh, you want to jump

- in here, Yoda's dad? - I invited him in.

- Woodhouse! - And once you do that,

you know, we are in. Not unlike vampires.

- See? - What?

Be that as it may, why are you here?

Oh, just checking in, making sure you folks aren't

engaging in treason, espionage or anything else illegal.

Well, I can assure you...

- Like drugs. - Hmm?

- Cocaine? - Nope.

- Yakuza? Mm-mm.

- Shootout? - Noop.

No one here was shot by the Yakuza?

Well, I think we'd remember that.

Then what's his problem?

- Vasectomy. - Piles.

- Gout. - Mumps.

- Goutmumps? - Progeria!

- He's just a little boy. - But whatever is wrong