Archer (2009–…): Season 3, Episode 7 - Drift Problem - full transcript

I don't wanna...

Woodhouse, you sneaky old fiend.

Happy birthday, sir.

Thanks, Woodhouse.

This is amazing. Seriously,
you outdid yourself.

That's not all, sir.

Uh, sorry about that, sir.

It's okay. I'll wait
while you make me

a new birthday breakfast
not covered in garbage.

It's not garbage, sir, it's...

Scraps of paper, Woodhouse,



which, by definition,
yes, is garbage.

Afraid I don't have
the ingredients

to recreate this
exact breakfast, sir.

Okay, then make Nutella waffles.

Damn it. Nutella steak and eggs?

Today's my shopping day.

Why do you even bother living?

No time to talk, Popeye.

It's my birthday.

Were you gonna
say happy birthday?

Don't bother. Happy
birthday to me.

Mm-hm.

I wonder what the guys
at the office have planned

for my birthday.



Wonder if Fudgie the
Whale will be there.

Or Cookie Puss.

Cookie Puss.

Those guys at Carvel
know what they're doing.

Paging Dr. Boy,
Dr. Birthday Boy.

So, what are you ladies up to?

Cleaning out the
stupid file room.

Yeah? Any particular reason?

Uh, it's full of shit?

Speaking of, is that Archer?

Yes, but I have to warn you,

I don't like surprises?

Or doing your share
of work, apparently.

Who likes that?
You'd better start,

because a lot of this junk
is yours. Now get to work.

Are you serious? On my...?

Your what? My never mind.

Because there's nothing special
about today whatsoever, Mother.

Oh, I wouldn't say that.

Uh... Wait, really?

Yes, it's the
quarterly fire drill.

Let's go, people.
Get the lead out.

Ferris Bueller, you're my hero.

Shut up. Hang on, does nobody
seriously know what today is?

Tuesday? The Rapture?

Come on, people. Look alive.

I never remember
it taking so long.

Maybe that's because you
never remember anything. So...

Oh, my God.

Surprise.

I... Is that...?
What...? Mother?

Happy birthday, dear.

I...

Ow.

I think.

Oh, I can feel it.

I can feel your power.

What's that? You
want me inside you?

Sterling.

You know my name?

Sterling!

Hm? Oh. Oh, sorry.

I believe a "thank
you" is in order.

Mother, oh, my
God. Yes, thank you.

And not just... Well,
mostly me, of course,

but Dr. Krieger helped too.

Well, only if by
"helped" you mean

oversaw the
design of the world's

most insanely kick-ass spy car.

It's a spy car?

Lana?

- Lana, no!
- Oh, my God!

Holy shit!

Yeah, I'm like a magnet.

Brett, shut up.
What else does it do?

Press that red button? I...

Wait, is it gonna
kill everybody?

Press that blue button?

Welcome, Mr. Archer,

It does know my name.

To the Dodge Challenger,
Special Agent Edition,

brought to you by Dodge.

Thanks, Dodge!

Featuring a 440 V-8 engine,

six-speed manual transmission
and a top speed of 185.

Heavy-duty
suspension, run-flat tires,

bulletproof body
panels and windows,

twin .30 cal machine
guns mounted in the front,

anti-pursuit
countermeasures in the rear.

It makes the Mach
5 look like a vagina.

The interior boasts
mil-spec GPS,

satellite communications,
hi-fi stereo,

rich Corinthian leather.

Corinth is famous
for its leather.

And, of course...

Bar is to be stocked with
non-alcoholic beverages.

Dodge cannot stress this enough.

Never drink and drive.

Now, Sterling, listen to me.

It's like seeing
the face of God.

Sterling. This car
cost me a lot of money.

So you have to
take proper care of it.

I will.

And if you crash it... I won't.

Or, God forbid, if
you get it stolen...

I won't.

You won't ever get another one.

Mother, I promise,

I'll take the best care
of it of anything ever.

You'd better.

Well, come on. Give
your mom a hug.

Oh, no, I don't
think that's really...

Possible.

Um, at all. Why not?

Um...

Oh, God. He's got an erection.

Shotgun. Me too.

Sorry, it's this
Corinthian leather.

In my new Dodge Challenger!

Ahem. I forgot to close the bar.

In my new Dodge Challenger!

Wow, so how much
did Dodge kick in?

Not as much as you'd think.

So I hope this
doesn't sound weird,

but I kind of wanna
have sex with you.

Is that all right?

Oh! Seriously,
Dodge? Apple juice?

Not you, the car, obviously,

but the blond genie woman

who lives inside you that talks.

So, what do I call you?

Hello? Jeannie? It's me, master.

Wait a minute, was that just
a lame pre-recorded video?

Or are you pouting
for some reason?

Fine, then pout.

But that totally
wasn't my fault.

You shouldn't even be
able to put the car in gear

with the bar open.

Besides the danger
of drunk driving,

it's obviously a
huge design flaw.

Which is why now
you're all sticky.

Which, I'm sorry for that.

Once we get you
parked, I'll clean you up

and wipe you down
with a fine chamois.

And also quit talking to you

because now I'm pretty
sure that was just a recording.

I mean, it was, right?

Whatever. Either
way, I'm done talking.

Oh, come on, it's full?

Damn it. Guess I'll have
to park on the street.

If you get it stolen,

you won't ever get another one.

I heard you, Mother. Somehow.

Ooh.

Hi, neighbor.

The grappling hook
detaches from my end?

Way to think it through, Dodge.

So clean all the broken glass
and the sticky apple juice,

then I need all new
glassware, some real liquor.

Um, oh.

There's a grappling
hook in the street, get that,

and then find out
where to buy caltrops.

Caltrops?

Yeah, caltrops.

Very good, sir.

Oh, did you decide
to start talking to me?

Nothing, Woodhouse.
What do you want?

Ugh. It's black, powerful, sexy.

Like if Ron O'Neal was a car.

What?

No.

No, no, no.

No!

No, no, no.

Sir? What are you...?

I thought maybe she had
some sort of cloaking device.

No, then I'd be standing in it.

You. What'd you do with Jeannie?

Steady on, sir.

I swear to God,

I'll scoop out whatever
organs you have left and...

Sorry, sir, you were
going all Bilbo-y.

Oh! I'm sorry.

Woodhouse, can I
see that can for a sec?

No, sir.

I just wanted to read
the warning label

about "in case of eye contact."

You did not.

You were going to
spray me in the eyes.

I totally was.

Oh, my God. Okay, I gotta think.

Would you stop? They
look pretty bad, sir.

Really? Because they feel great.

Okay, so obviously
Jeannie was stolen,

and who steals cars, Woodhouse?

Gyppos.

Car thieves.

And this was obviously a ring
of very high-end car thieves.

So now I have to go undercover

in the high-end car-thief
whatever, underworld

and steal Jeannie back.
Sounds dangerous, sir.

Not nearly as dangerous
as Mother finding out

I lost my birthday present.

Sterling.

Yes, Mother?

Where is your new bicycle?

That's what I thought.

And you let her do it. I...

I'm kidding. You
couldn't have stopped her.

She would've snapped your spine.

I mean, you're just tiny.

Lana. What do you
know, what do you say?

I know you're about
to ask me for a favor,

and I say, wait for it...

I...

Wait.

Was that even a twist-off? No.

Yikes. Is my
answer to your favor.

I don't care what it
is. The answer's no.

Somebody stole my birthday car.

Okay, I'm gonna
drink some of this

and then I'm gonna do
a huge spit take on you.

What the shit, Lana?

I told you I was gonna do it.

Right, sorry, guess
I'm a bad listener.

Obviously.

Malory told you not to let
that stupid car get stolen.

Thank you, world's
loudest voice.

Now shut up.

For reasons that
don't bear going into,

I have to get it back
before Mother finds out.

Ugh. Okay, I'll
help you. To do...

Wait, what am I
helping you to do?

Infiltrate whatever
criminal outfit

steals the hottest
cars in the city.

That would be the yakuza.

What?

And, man,

against those
pinkieless bastards,

you had better come correct.

And you know this how, exactly?

Homies.

Hang on, hang on...

You race drift cars?

Crappily. Oh, for...

Is anybody not in here?

I'm not crappy. I just started.

Shut up. When's the next race?

And we're gonna
pose as your pit crew.

I... It's tonight.
And I don't know.

If the yakuza finds out
you're snooping around

about a hot set of wheels...

Don't worry about me, I'm...

Uh, not going on
another stupid rampage.

Well, maybe a limited rampage.

No.

Modified limited
rampage? Archer.

Don't worry about my methods.

The important thing
is that nobody tells...

Mother!

Tell me what?

What?

What.

What are we doing? I
shouldn't even be in here.

And neither should you, Pam.

Why aren't you
out in your new car?

Because Woodhouse
is detailing it.

Because that's the high level
of care that I am taking of it.

You better be.

Wow, dodged a bullet there, huh?

Figuratively. And
you had better hope

we don't have to
dodge any literally.

Well, obviously I hope that.

I am not super-confident
about this.

Join the club. I don't
even know why I'm here.

Join that club.

Then shut up and act like
you know what you're doing.

I don't know
anything about cars.

I meant as an agent. Zing.

Okay, Pam, who's the big
cheesy-san around here?

That would be Mr. Moto, he's...

Crapjacks, he's
coming over here.

So, shiro kabocha,

you are back. Hai, Moto-san.

And, again, just really
sorry about your nephew.

He knew the risk.

But I do not know these people.

Sorry. Hi, I'm Randy,
crew leader, and...

Why does this
underling speak to me?

"Underling"? Uh...

Randy, don't.

Listen here, Moto, I...

Uh...

Right in the head and ass.

Let that be a lesson to you.

Aw, man, I just
totally lost face.

Ha, ha. Join that club.

So you rethinking that rampage?

I am, actually.

Ew. Gross.

Then can we please
get out of here?

Absolutely.

Right after I get my car.

Archer! Jeezy Petes!

No wonder it was running rough.

Archer, don't...

Now which one of
you pussies has it?

So just a heads up, I'm
starting the rampage now.

No kidding.

Mm...

No.

I am so angry at you right now.

You? Look at them.
They're furious.

One question before you die.

Shoot. Figuratively.

My question is this:

What are you doing?

What? Nothing.

Uh-huh.

Have you seen Sterling?

What, like ever?

Tonight, now.

He's supposed to meet me at
21 for his stupid birthday dinner,

but he's not answering...

Hello?

Mother? Hi, listen,

I can't really talk right
now, can I call you back?

Or are you pouting for some...?

Oh, crap, are you already at 21?

Sorry, I'm running late,

so go ahead and order
me four martinis and...

Sterling Malory Archer,
you inconsiderate little...

Whoa! Birthday
voicemail, Mother.

I gotcha.

But seriously, I bet I
will be late, so go ahead

and pull the trigger
on those martinis.

What kind of ass would be
late for his own birthday dinner?

Um, the kind who'd
infiltrate the yakuza?

What?

Nothing. What? Nothing.

Carol. No.

Answer me. No.

I've said too much alrea...

Jeez. Ow!

You got another one
in you? Answer me!

And that, guys, I guess,
is a pretty long answer

to why I'd go on
a suicide mission

to get back my birthday car.

Because of a stupid bicycle?

What part of "five-speed
Schwinn Sting-Ray"

are you not getting?

Are you...? And I am
being serious here.

Are you insane?

Maybe some mild post-traumatic
stress disorder, but...

But he drinks a lot, so...

So I think I've got a
pretty good handle on it.

We don't even
have your damn car.

We steal drift cars.

Imports only.

Right-hand drive. Duh.

Okay, okay.

And why would I believe you?

Why would I lie?

Either way, we're
going to kill you.

Oh. Oh, right.

And if they don't, I'm going to.

How is this my fault?

This is all my fault.

I should've never
gotten him that car.

It's that damn
bicycle all over again.

And who the hell
taught you how to drive?

This guy I know
named my dead father.

Oh, I, uh...

Yeah. I bet you
feel like a dick.

No, because, look,
if this whole thing

is anybody's fault, it's...

Pam, what are you doing?

What? Nothing.

Oh, shit!

Damn it!

Fire!

Where are you going?

How should I know?

Can't see shit, my
car's shot to shit,

and I only had three
shitty payments...

Left!

What?

Go left, dumbass!

To the cars.

Move the damn hood.

Okay, hang on.

Jesus! ARCHER: How's that?

Pam, if you do that again...

What are you gonna
do, shoot my car?

Lana's doing it too.

No, she's...

Goddamn it! Sorry.

Are you?

Cyril, here, make
yourself useful.

I... No. You know what? No.

What?

No. The way I see it,
we're the bad guys here.

They're the yakuza.

Who were minding
their own business.

Of white slavery.
Don't qualify it.

And stealing cars.

Not yours. Well,
maybe not, but...

But you come in here,
guns blazing, half-cocked,

and probably half-drunk...

It's my birthday.

Well, happy fricking birthday.

Thank you. Finally,

somebody
acknowledges my birthday.

Shut up, because
now we're gonna die.

Not if shiro
kabocha can help it.

Whoa!

Oh, God!

Whoa. Wow, Pam,

you're actually
pretty badass at this.

Duh. Why do you think
they call me shiro kabocha?

Yeah, what does
that mean, anyway?

The white shadow.

No, it doesn't.

It means "white pumpkin."

Aw, honey.

Oh, yeah? Well, I got
your pumpkin hanging.

Ew.

Whoa!

You used-panty-vending
sons of bitches.

Shiro kabocha, this is not over.

We'll see about
that. Gun, give me.

No, honey, let's just...

Shut up, give me the gun. No.

Give it! No. You're agitated.

No shit I'm agitated,
look at my car.

At least you have one.

Thanks to you
we wasted all night

dicking around with the yakuza

and I still don't know
who stole my fricking...

Mother.

Sterling Malory Archer.

What are you doing here?

Did you not hear my
outgoing voicemail?

Did you not hear me tell you

not to let your
brand-new car get stolen?

Thanks a lot, blabbermouth.

She beat it out of me.

Oh, stop it.

But, no, you
didn't listen to me.

And then you lied to me.

And then you almost
got everyone killed, and...

Almost, nothing.

I'll kill you all right now.

Do you mind? I'm
trying to parent.

That was for Pearl Harbor.

Now, where was I?

Oh, yes, and all because
you're irresponsible.

No, I'm... Well,
not with the car.

Are you...? Sterling,
you left it unlocked

in an unattended garage.

I don't, um...

She took it. What?

Well, not me personally, I...

Why would you do that?

To teach you a lesson.

About what?

Life.

Just like with that damn bicycle

when you were 8 years old.

I don't, um...

She took it.

You stole my bike?

I came home from work,

it was just lying
on the sidewalk.

And I thought, "Oh,
well, this will teach him."

Sting-Ray, five-speed.

But so did you talk to
him about responsibility

when you gave it back?

Gave it back? Wow.

You're disgusting.

What kind of a
lesson would that be?

Banana saddle, sissy bar.

Oh, my God. So,
what about his car?

Jeannie.

Mm, I'm afraid it
already has a new owner.

Aw, yeah,

that's what I'm talking about.

Thanks, Dodge, or whoever.

Yes, my ass is everywhere.

What are you looking at, sucker?