Archer (2009–…): Season 10, Episode 6 - Archer: 1999 -- Road Trip - full transcript

Lana.

Lana.

Let me go ahead

and save you the trouble
of shouting my name

like a shrill five-year-old...-Shrill?

And point out
that I'm a little busy

doing both our jobs.

Which I'd be helping you with

if I could find
the goddamn cherries.

What cherries?

The maraschino cherries, Lana.
I...



We are entering the atmosphere
of an uncharted planet

at a couple thousand miles
per hour

to check out a distress beacon,

and you're talking to me
about cherries?

She said. Dryly.

Sorry. I didn't invent how
to make a whiskey sour, Lana.

Here's an idea.

Maybe try inventing
not doing that right now.

God, lighten up.
It's a road trip.

Who goes on a road trip
without a few cocktails?

- Look...
- Trick question, Lana.

- No one does.
- This isn't...

The time to try new things.
Exactly.

Especially when we're going
a thousand miles per...



Goddamn it!

System failure.

System failure.

Autopilot is out!

I got it.

What is happening?-KRIEGER:
What are they doing?!

Goddamn it!

The hell's going on up there?

Don't look at me!

Talk to Captain Road Trip
over here!

What? Oh, how is this
suddenly my fault?

We're coming in hot!

Everyone, hang on!

Hey, if you happen to see
any cherries back there...

Oh, God, give it a rest!

You give it a rest!

Ow!

Holy shitsnacks!

Never mind.

Found the cherries.

So, got some good news
and some bad news.

Any chanceyou're gonna tell us what it is?

Oh. Right.

The bad news is, comms are dead

and the fuel cell's ruptured,

so we're not going anywhere
anytime soon.

Hang on. You mean
we're frickin' stranded?

Not stranded, dummy.

He said "soon."

Though I technically meant
"ever."

Then what's the good news?

Hmm. Guess it was
mostly just bad news.

- Damn it, Krieger!
- God, relax.

He said "mostly."

So... completely inoperable.

Um, what are you doing?

Oh. Uh, since our insurance
claims keep getting denied,

Ms. Archer has put me
in charge of the paperwork.

Cause of accident:

Barely functional alcoholism.

- Hey!
- All right, listen up.

Let's salvage what we can
from the shuttle

and find the distress beacon.

It's probably a downed ship,

so maybe there's a fuel cell
we can use.

Way ahead of you.

On the "salvage what you can"
part.

- Unbelievable.
- Right?

What are the chances
lemons would survive the...

Can you please focus?

Why? Mother's
probably putting together

a rescue plan as we speak.

Mm. Should probably check

on why their comms are down.

Meh. Feels like it can wait.

Everything can wait.

Speaking of,
anybody want in on this?

I'm about to make another batch.

- Seriously?
- Road trip.

Which we may be on forever
if we're stranded here.

Oh, take it easy, Lana.
It'll be fine.

And this blithe optimism
is based on what, exactly?

Because this is me
we're talking about.

Wildly reassuring.

Trust me on this.

I have mastered the art
of blind luck.

No offense to your blind luck,

but it might be nice
to have a plan B.

Why? Seriously,
do you have any idea

how many times I should
haveliterally died in the last year?

- Wow me.
- Krieger, tell her.

Including that thing last week?

Hey! This is totally safe,
right?

- Technically?
- As in "actually," Krieger!

Kind of feels like probably.

To both of those.

Whoa, whoa, wait! What?!

- Then nine.
- Boosh.

Please tell me there's a point.

Point is, if you hit pause

on your whole angry
negativity thing...

Angry what?

For, like, one second,

you'd notice
we always end up fine.

Though we may be pushing
our luck at this point.

Christ on a cracker.

Is this whole frickin' planet
uphill?

Jesus, is that a thing?

At least it means we're not
totally lost going in circles.

Though not feeling
entirely un-lost.

We're not lost, idiots.

I know how to work
the whatchamahickey.

Really?
Because "whatchamahickey"

doesn't inspire
tons of confidence.

It's technically
a whatchamacallit.

Or am I being too negative?

- When are you not?
- All the time, jackass!

Oh, and there's the angry part.-Look...

Face it, Lana.
Angry'sbasically your default setting.

- Says who?
- Besides everybody?

- Well, not everybody.
- Thank you!

Just the people
who've actually met you.

Yeah. Possibly a few others.

Hey, assholes.

I'm not, like,
perpetually angry.

Really?

- Yes, really.
- Scale of one to ten, Lana,

how happy would you say you
are, in general?

Oh, easily a six.

A six? Then what's a seven,

"Yay, I've got tons of cancer"?

Like you're any better.

Seriously?
I'm always a total nine.

Please.

I'm buoyant, Lana,
bordering on bubbly.

Listen to how I talk.

- There's a tone.
- A tone?

Yes, Lana, a tone.

Notice how my sentences go up
at the end?

Oh, yeah. You mean like,
"Shut the hell up"?

Exac... Damn it.

- Ow!
- Ha.

Now I'm a seven, by the way.

And now I'm a two.

So which partof the
blind luck plan is this?

Um, I think this is the part
where you sh...

it!

Finally!

Some frickin' downhill.

Blind luck,
you are my spirit animal.

Holy spacesnacks.

What the hell happened?

Hopefully nothing a fuel cell
couldn't survive.

Yeah, otherwise,
we're pretty much screwed.

Easy, Debbie Downer.

No one wants to go
to your dark place right now.

You know...

Yeah, but she's right.

We only have enough food
for a few days.

Then what?
We sit around and starve?

Please,
whoever survives the culling

- will have plenty of food.
- The what?

Uh, the culling?

You know, where people
suffocatein their sleep

with gross, sweaty socks
stuffed in their mouths

or get accidentally stabbed
in the neck

while they pee or whatever?

- What?
- The details make it weird.

Just the details?

Section seven,

possible post-accident injuries.

- Uh, that's "culling" with a "C," right?
- Look,

idiots, there's got to be a
fuelcell around here somewhere.

They're basically impossible
to destroy.

Unless the pilot
spills a cocktail

- all over the flight controls.
- Yeah.

But what are the odds
their pilot was that kick-ass?

Perhaps better than you think.

Holy...

Shitsnacks.

Ooh. Fascinating.

Now I'm an eight.

How is this possible?

It-it isn't.

This is insane.

Obviously.

I mean,
who shaves off hair like this?

Idiot.

Okay, there's got to be
a logical explanation.

Lana, there's nothing logical
about shaving...

Not talking about your hair,
dumb-ass.

None of this makes any sense.

Uh, ever consider the fact
we're obviously ghosts

looking at our own
stupid dead bodies?

We're not ghosts, dick nuts.

How do you... Ow!

Buy a girl a drink first.

Jesus.

Is anyone here familiar
with multiverse theory?

How 'bout pretend we're not?

Long story short,
this may be a parallel universe,

making these our doppelgangers.

Doppel-what?

Sort of like
everyone's alter egos.

Not everyone's.

Yeah. Where's yours, Krieger?

Huh.
Maybe doppel-Krieger survived.

Yeah. And maybe
he killed everybody.

Please,

why would I
ever finally do that?

What the hell?

Mayday, mayday.

This is Sterling Archer
of the MVSeamus,

and we are going down.

Repeat, we are going down.

Transmitting our location now.

And, on a personal note,
whoever gets this,

please know my only regret is...

The hair, obviously.

- Shut up.
- Oh, come on. -Shut up, man.

I wasn't able to save
my valiant crew.

My dear friends, Cyril,

Pam, Krieger,

Ray, Crystal...

Oh, my God! Totally forgot
about the Crystal thing.

I love you all dearly.

Truly the best friends
a guy could have.

- Aw.
- Oh, my God, give me...

Shut up!

But, most of all,

I'll miss my wife, Lana.

You're the greatest thing
that ever happened to me.

I wrote you this poem
I want to read.

It's called "I'll Never Stop..."

"Totally Embarrassing Yourself"?

- Come on!
- Oh, God!

You realize, theoretically,
that was you, right?

How? He's nothing like me.

Got a point. He did seem
entirely non-self-absorbed.

Exactly. Wait, what?

And weirdly not a dick.

You're weirdly not a dick.

- Makes no sense.
- Yeah.

That other Archer
was refreshingly friendly.

Yeah, like what you think
matters, Cyril.

And we're back.

And is it just me,
or was that shaved head thing

- super working?
- Totally.

- Ka-sploosh!
- I was into it.

Just sit thereand be
into the non-hair-having,

clearly castrated version of me

while I go find a fuel cell to
get us all out of here, which,

P.S., is pretty much
the opposite of self-absorbed!

So, how's
the bubbly thing going?

Still sporting that nine?

No.

"Are you making any
of the following claims

for emotional distress?"

Yes, yes, yes.

Well, these are all yes.

Shit, I'm heavy.

Incoming!

So, I officially quit.

And speaking of good news,

I assume finding this
crammed up my ass qualified?

Is that a fuel cell?
Oh, thank God.

Shut up, Cyril.
You still don't matter.

It's funny 'cause it's true.

Okay, got some good news
and bad news.

Bad news is, that thing's
not going anywhere.

And the good news?

Mm. I swear
I had something for this.

- Krieger.
- Krieger! -Great.

Making us pretty much screwed.

- Easily a six.
- Shut it.

And let the culling begin!

Okay.

Maybe instead
of culling each other,

we should come up
with an actual plan.

Like, obviously,
someone needs to go out there

and distract that thing
while everyone else gets away.

And I vote Pam.

What? Screw you, dick nuts.

- What?
- Why me?

Because look at you, Pam.

That thing's not gonna want
to eat... that.

Well, you either!

'Cause who'd want to eat
a complete dick?

Just gonna softball it in
like that?

Sorry I didn't invent
appetizing, Pam.

Yeah, well,
I'm sorry we ended up

with the complete asshole
version of you.

Oh, what? You'd rather have
touchy-feely bald guy?

- Yep, yep, yep.
- 100%. -No contest.

Fine. Know what?

You want him?

Then come and get him!

Boom! Wordplay!

Now run, idiots!

So, was it weird?

Probably.

Wait, what are we talking about?

You know, watching your alterego
get eaten by a giant lizard.

Please, if that guy
was really my alter ego, Lana,

he would have been something
really cool,

like a secret agent
or a private detective

or a...

Oh, my God!

You guys are alive!

Archer!

Oh, God. Get it off.

And your hair!

- Right?
- It's glorious!

Aw. Wait a minute.

Doppelganger multiverse theory?

Exactly.

And the rest of my crew's...
dead?

Exactly.-Oh, like you didn't kill them.

What?

Why would I ever do that,
finally?

- Right?
- Besides...

You know what? What do you say

we take this half-assed reunionon the road

before that tyrannosaurus
whatever shows up for seconds?

- Fascinating.
- What?

Our Lana had
a lot of angry energy, too.

Ha! Hilarious.

Oh, is it?

And that was
no Tyrannosaurus rexyou saw.

I mean,
unless a T. Rexis capable

of camouflaging itself
perfectlyin any surroundings

with chameleon-like...

Oh, shit.

It's right behind me, isn't it?

So, how's that whole
blind luck thing working out?

No! Me!

You tell me.

Uh, I mean, seriously, Lana,

At some point, you really got
to ask yourself...

It's not the time.

If maybe the luckiest spot
in the galaxy

is standing right next to me.

Got a whole bunch of wedding
photos that say otherwise.

Wait, wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait, wait.

We have wedding photos?

Oh, yeah. Big box of 'em
labeled "Cautionary Tale,"

which is what this whole
thing'sgonna turn into

if we can't find our way
back to the ship.

How the hell?

I've learned not to ask.

Now, let's get the hell
out of here.

Wait, what are you talking
about? We can't just fly off.

What? Then why havel been
lugging this thing around

all this time?

No. I mean
we can't just leave everyone.

Of course we're not, Lana.

Assuming they get here on time.

Wow. Such an asshole.

- What?
- Could you try

not being completely consumed
with yourself

for once in your life?

Why?

Wait, I don't want
to go wandering around

a man-eating jungle
and suddenly I'mthe asshole?

How does that even work?

Oh, I know.

Maybe I should shave my head
and take up poetry

and see how many things I canrhyme
with "soul-sucking" and...

Lana!

Psst! Lana!

What are you guys doing?

Well, we
werehiding from that stupid,

giant lizard thingy.

But now, thanks
to your loud-as-shit ass...

Not so much.

Holy...

Shit.

Oh, wait.

Ow! What are you doing, woman?!

Besides pissing it off
even more!

And totally killing
our earballs!

- What?
- See?!

Goddamn it!

Good God.
What the hell's it doing now?

I don't know,
moving on to plan B?

Yeah, "B,"
as in "burying us alive!"

Okay.

Who brought the dog?

Damn it!

No!

Well, look who decided
not to be a total dick.

Just couldn't leave
my buddy Cyril behind.

Wait, really?

Of course not, idiot.

And yet you had the time
to stopand make a cocktail.

God, you are
just so glass half-empty.

Ooh, actually, me, too.

So just gonna freshen this up.

Item one.

- Item what?
- Yeah, what are we even doing?

It's called an agenda.

- For what?
- So confused right now.

I swear, you people!

Item one.

The insurance company
has officially deemed

the Seamus Ila total loss,

so this little enterprise

may actually turn a profit
this year.

What are you talking about?

- The other crew.
- Hang on. I thought those were

our parallel universe
doppel-bangers.

Oh, for the love of...

Those were clones, you idiots.

I had you people cloned
in your sleep.

- Why?
- To double productivity, dear.

It was Krieger's idea.

Oh, did I obviously forget

- to mention that?
- Yep.

So wait till you see what
we doto you in yoursleep.

Now I'm a nine.

Made in Georgia.

Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH