Archer (2009–…): Season 5, Episode 4 - Archer Vice: House Call - full transcript

Now addicted to both amphetamines AND cocaine, shapely Pam has a problem; the team plans to restrain and keep her locked up until she is clean. Krieger finds a spare brain chip: who shall receive a transplant? An unexpected visit from law enforcement causes Cyril Esq. to wax Socratic on the 4th Amendment. Cyril shouldn't quit his day job. The team has to scramble to keep Agent Holley from finding cartel product, hostages or actionable criminal offenses.

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. 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...

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?


Give me that! Hey!

Lick it. Ugh!

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 freaking rehab,

I'll go right to the cops! What?

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.

Ugh. Typical.

What are you doing?
Come on. Tighter.

That's tight enough. We're
not making tit bondage porn.

That's a thing? Oh, yeah.

Ugh! 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?


2.27 kilograms, then!

Who are you, Thomas
Corwin Mendenhall?


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.


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.

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,


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?

Ooh, yeah.

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! Nope!

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...

Pam, honey, just calm down!

Somebody do something!

Nobody do anything!


Lana! Krieger!

Yeah, I'm on it. MALORY: Ow!


Pam! Lana!

This is only somewhat like
that old Gypsy woman said!


What? God shit
damn it, Archer, what?

Uh, never mind.

Archer, I...

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 going to 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 12:00.

Firm 12.

You know, as in inches?

Jesus, 0.3048 meters.

Hi. Welcome to Nazi Canada!

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.


Well, unless you invite him in.

He's not a vampire, idiot.

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.

You want to jump
in here, Yoda's dad?

I invited him in.


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? Shootout? Mmm-mmm. Nope.

No one here was
shot by the Yakuza?

Well, I think we'd
remember that.

Then what's his problem?

Vasectomy. Piles.

Gout. Mumps.

Gout mumps? Progeria!

He's just a little boy.

But whatever is
wrong with him...

Gout mumps.

Is none of your business,
and since nothing in plain view

would lead a reasonable
person to suspect illegal activity,

I demand that you...

Nobody move!


They can also do
what's known as a...

Protective sweep!

Case law regarding

is actually quite interesting...

What about the cocaine?

Admissible as evidence,
but only if he sees it.

So we have to keep him out
of the kitchen. All right, fan out!

Agent Holly is the
prime target, but...

So, just so we're
clear, you want us

to tranquilize a federal agent?

Do you have a better idea?

I do not.

Then we just slap some
panties and rouge on him,

pose him with Gillette,
whose fault this is,

make some glossy 8-by-10s.

I'll do it! I have
a camera! Dibs!

And then I doubt
we'll be hearing

from Agent Holly in the future.

Or you could pose
him with Woodhouse.


God knows, he's a little GILF.

Ew! That's a thing?

How do you not know
the different kinds of porn?

Because I have sex
with actual women, Cyril!

My girlfriend's not
equal parts the Internet,

a tube of Kentucky jelly,

self-loathing and a sock!

Tell that to your
cellmate! Now, go!

You scared the shit out of me!

Ugh! What, literally?

Seriously, dude,
what is up with you?

I could walk, and now I can't, and
ain't nobody loves old Ray no more.

Well, yeah, you're disgusting.

But, you, I am totally digging
this whole Queen Kong vibe.

My God, are they
torturing a woman?

Hang on, ma'am! I'm a
federal agent, and I'm coming!

By God, I am coming!

Okay, you three head
upstairs... Hang on.

I'm going to the
kitchen to make sure

he doesn't stumble
onto the coke.

Hang on. What?

Question. What?

Are we not saying
"phrasing" anymore?

Which, that's fine, whatever,
but if we're doing a new thing

and nobody told me, that
I'd have a problem with.

Oh, screw me!

Said Ripley to the
android Bishop.

Wait, hang on. Um...

God damn it! What was
wrong with "phrasing"?

Nothing! I'm fine. Just
get out, leave me alone!

I just need to be sure you're
not being held here against your...

That is a federal offense!

I said, get out!

Oh, hey, remind me
to reboot the CPU

in Ray's spine so
he can walk again.

What? A reboot?
That's all it takes?

Beep-boop. He's been
paralyzed for months.

What the hell have
you been waiting for?

Think how much
happier he'll be now.

Or, and I'm just
spitballing here,

I find Holly first,
show him the coke,

get immunity,
testify against them,

then you and I go
into witness protection

and spend the rest of our
miserable lives on the run,

hounded by the fact that
we betrayed our friends. Oh...

Or I get arrested and give
birth in a super-max prison and...

Oh, wait. Does the baby
grow up in prison or...

Hello, old friend.

What the shit, Archer?

Hang on.

I knew you'd shoot
without looking.

Oh, really, you
know me that well?

Well enough to know you're down
here wondering if witness protection

ever sends people
to the Virgin Islands.

Well, in case you'd forgotten,

I have an unborn
child to think about!

Jesus Christ, Lana,
who can forget?

It's baby this, baby that.

Aw... Baby Archer,
who's a jeawous baby?

What? Holy shit, do
you have anemia?

No. Uh, edema,

hypertension, preeclampsia,
Braxton Hicks contractions, pica?

GERD? Lana, do you have GERD?

How do you know
about the various

possible complications
of pregnancy?

Archer? Maybe I looked it up.


I was concerned
about you. Blow me!

Just making sure you're
not into preggo porn.

Oh, God damn it!
That can't be a thing!

It is absolutely a thing,

and do you just not
have the Internet, or...

I have Minitel, okay?

A, not the Internet,
B, only works in...

France, Lana.

Okay, um, thanks
for your concern,

and I don't know what you think

you heard about
witness protection, but...

They don't make babies
grow up in prison, Lana.

Yeah, right?

They take them away
the minute they're born

and send them to an orphanage.

No, not the minute they're...

That very minute, Lana!

They don't even dry them off!

So if I were you, I'd run out that
door while I still had a chance.

But Archer, I...

I'd also waste five
precious minutes

of my head start in
the race to freedom

giving that swell guy Archer a
combination good-bye/thank-you blow job.


Yeah, or a rim job.

What do you care? You're
never going to see him again.

I can't.

I know. I was kidding, stupid.

I mean I can't
leave you, stupid!

This is the FBI!

Open this door!

Well, not now, stupid.

And so, wait. Where did
we land on that blow job?

Sorry, rim job.

Do you hear me? Open this door!

Obstructing a federal
agent is a felony punishable

by up to 20 years imprisonment,

if said obstruction results in
the bodily injury of said agent,

which I think may have just
happened to said agent's rotator cuff.

Twenty years?

Lana, look at all that coke!

Twenty years is just going to
be the Bacos on our prison salad.

Besides, technically,
Woodhouse is the one obstructing.

Archer! Relax.

They don't send
people that old to prison.

It costs, like, two grand a
day just to keep them alive.

I'm talking about us!

Hmm. I don't know.

100 bucks? Depends
who you ask, Lana.

Liberals say this much,
conservatives say this much...

So, now you're just
dicking around? Yes.

Between the FBI
and a ton of cocaine.


So, can I assume
you have a plan?


I mean, I don't, but you can...

Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!

I'm coming!

Said Ripley to...

Ow! God damn it, woman!

Come on! Why are
you slowing down?

Need... Got to... More cocaine.

So, please don't take
this the wrong way,

because I'm loving being your
Esmeralda, but you may have a problem.

And it sounds like the
solution is more cocaine,

so turn left up there.

But why are you leaving?

They can't compel a husband and
wife to testify against each other!

Oh, yeah? They may
not have to compel me.

And what is that
supposed to mean?

Why don't you ask that guy
you never heard of, Len Trexler?

How can I? I've
never heard of him.

You wouldn't know the
truth if it bit you on the ass

and held on, would you?

Ron, wait!


Well, if you insist on being
an ass, I can't stop you,

but there is the small matter

of my putting the deed to
my apartment in your name.

It's your loss!

I'll mail you your furs.

Don't you dare!

At the very least, I insist
on a bonded courier!


Ow! Lana, cut it... Ow!

What's this door
made out of, Mithril?

Just once, why can't you take
anything seriously, just once?

I was serious about
that rim job. Ow!

Seriously, please
stop hitting me.

What the...

Oh, thank God!

Cyril? Wait. How did you...

This house is insane.

And scary and gross, and I'm
pretty sure I smelled a skeleton.

No, you definitely
smelled a skeleton.

Well, this is great! How?

I inhaled skeleton!

Because now the coke

is getting eaten by Pam!

Quick, make the wall
spin around again!

It just kind of spun by itself!

Jesus Christ, have you people
never even heard of Scooby Doo?

Oh, come on!

Uh, Pam?

Ah, crap.

Oh, my God.

That's so freaking unsafe.

Okay, Krieger,
Cyril, get in there,

and we'll spin you back around.

Archer... Why do I
have to go back in there?

Because I said so!

Yeah, plus skeletons?

Archer? Got it.

Oh! God damn it!

Godspeed, you meddling kids.

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

Yeah, duh, I
already berated you.

Woodhouse, get
away from the door!

God damn it!

Just what do you people
think the letters FBI stand for?

I bought a T-shirt once where it
stood for "Female Body Inspector."

God, is Myrtle
Beach not the best?

Pull a stunt like this again, you'll
never make it back to Myrtle Beach.

I probably wasn't
going to, anyway.

Turns out it's
actually not the best.

And you actually have no
right to search this house.

As you can see, there's
nothing illegal going on.

Maybe not now, but
I know you still have

a lot of international
contacts from your ISIS days.

Mexico, Colombia, the Orient.

I bet it wouldn't be too hard
to get set up in the drug trade.

Well, you'd be...

We're not drug
dealers, Agent Holly.

Good, because I'll be
watching you like a hawk

that's been bred with an eagle.

To produce some sort of
eagle-eyed super-hawk.

With a badge.

So, am I crazy, or
is he super weird?

Well, I'm torn,
Lana, I really am.

I want to say both,

but I also don't want you
to stop my heart again, so...

Who's da widdle baby?
Who's da widdle baby?

Who's da widdle baby?
Yes, he is, widdle, little baby!

Wait. The brain
chip is in there?

I told you it was small.

Said Ripley to the...
No, doesn't work there.

Yeah, it's crap.

Okay, I actually only
have one brain chip, so...

Who's our lucky winner?

Hmm. I guess we have to decide
if we want regular lame Cheryl

and a Pam who's not going to
overdose on cocaine and die,

or potentially famous country
singer Cheryl and a Pam who... Tits.

Flip a coin?


And, yeah, he's a weirdo,
but I think Agent Holly's right.

We do have a lot of
international connections.

So, I'm thinking I should take
a trip down old Mexico way,

maybe Colombia, or
even Southeast Asia, or...

Hey, where's Ron?

Never heard of him.

Um... Lana, let it go. Jesus.

But maybe we should try to
sell out to an international cartel.

But let me be clear.

You won't be gallivanting around

under the pretense of work

just to visit the
fleshpots of the world.

This isn't ISIS. No, I...

And it definitely isn't
your semester abroad.

What? Come on, that's...

Hey, I don't think we
need to go into all the...

Cobra whiskey and
lady boys. I mean...


Shut up. You shut up!

And Krieger? I trust the brain
chip implant was a success?

I think. I mean, it's in
there and she's alive.

Now we just have to wait to see if
there are any adverse side effects.

Uh... Cheryl?

Nah, Cheryl's gone.

I'm Cherlene now.

And if somebody don't fry me

six goddamn eggs
and some Carolina fries,

I would personally be
shocked, shocked, I tell you,

if by morning this place
ain't burned to the ground.

And I'm not a doctor, but, I
mean, I'm definitely a doctor, so.

No, I think we're
good. Yup, yup, yup.