Archer (2009–…): Season 7, Episode 8 - Liquid Lunch - full transcript

The on-again, off-again relationship of Archer and Slater causes a rift in the on-again, off-again relationship of Archer and Lana.

Archer, hey,
I'm glad you're here.

- I'm sure you are.
- Because I could kind of use your help.

I'm sure you could. But unless
it's helping you leave me alone

until I finish my
breakfast burrito, I...

- It's actually about your mother.
- Oh. Is she in this burrito?

- No, but...
- Then sorry. My hands are tied.

I wouldn't go in there if I were you.

Cyril, if you were me, I'd
drink a bunch of antifreeze

and then jump off a
bridge, holding a giant toaster.

Oh, not you, buddy. Not...

you!



In the well-toned flesh.

Aaahh!

On second thought, I
will have a glass of that.

Oh, good. I do hate to drink alone.

I'm here.

Well, but this is a
Grande Cuvée, so...

Cheers!

And here's to a lucrative reunion.

And here's to what the shit?

Why is Slater here? Why are
you drinking champagne with him?

And may I please have
some of said champagne?

In reverse order, no, I was
mildly thirsty, and he wants to hire us.

To do what, kill another scientist?

And whose fault was that?



- I don't remember.
- Well...

But whatever CIA bullshit you want

us to do, Slater, the answer is no.

Well, let's at least hear him out.

- Are you literally insane?
- No, but I'll tell you what is,

A.J.'s tuition for
Country Day preschool.

Wait. I thought she
was banned from there.

She was, until we
made a sizable donation

- to their endowment fund.
- Wh... How sizable?

Uhh, we should probably hear him out.

- Goddamn it. What?
- Okay.

I assume you're all familiar
with The Manchurian Candidate?

- The Frank Sinatra movie?
- Oh, my God.

How the hell does this have anything to

do with a movie about three sailors,

Gabey, Chip and Ozzie, who fall

in love with three crazy gals,

Ivy, Hildy and Claire, during a

24-hour shore leave in New York?

Oh, and it's a musical?

That's On the Town!

And also Bea Benaderet's film debut.

Jethro's mom? Uh, Tweety's Granny?

- You done?
- Yes.

- Okay, so...
- Kate Bradley?

Mrs. Barney Rubble?

- Thanks for the champagne.
- No, no, no! Wait, wait!

He won't say another word.

- Please, don't go.
- All right.

But only because my other
options are somehow even worse.

So, what do you want us to do?

Short answer, prevent World War III.

And longer answer... Where's the, uh...

Oh. Sorry.

Help me prevent a former CIA agent,

Ken Hinkins, who was brainwashed
in the MK-ULTRA program,

from assassinating a
visiting Soviet dignitary,

thus triggering a chain
of geopolitical events

that would lead to World War III.

So, questions? Comments?

That aren't about Bea Benaderet?

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So, listen, I know
the CIA sucks at everything,

but can they really
not find this Hinkins guy?

- Why'd you come to us?
- Well, for one thing, I saw this.

- Goddamn it! Give me that!
- And obviously,

the agency could find him,
ass, but this is off the books.

Wait. As in illegal, or...

Lana, everything the CIA does

within the borders of the
United States is illegal.

Especially Project MK-ULTRA!

Wait. MK-ULTRA...

That was the CIA's mind-control
program, right?

Yeah, it's since
been, uh, discredited, but...

- Discredited for being batshit-crazy!
- It wasn't...

And for being in direct
violation of the Nuremberg Code,

which was written because of medical

experiments by Nazi war criminals,

many of whom, after World War II...

spoiler alert... came to
work for the C-I-goddamn-A!

Wait, what?

Look, the Soviets were
kicking our ass in the Cold War.

Our scientists had to
think outside the box.

Oh, is that the box where
they kept informed consent?

Because I'm pretty sure that
all those mental patients

the CIA force-fed LSD didn't give it!

- Wait, what?
- Mental patients, Lana.

They gave them LSD every
day for six months.

Not six months. The longest one was only

- a hundred and seventy-four days.
- That is six months.

Oh, and what about Project
Artichoke, before Ultra,

where you dick-bags got
innocent people addicted to morphine?

Look, all that crazy drug stuff was

intentionally "secretly" leaked

to divert attention from the

real goal of Project MK-ULTRA,

which was mind control through
hypnosis and torture.

Is that supposed to make it better?

It's not supposed to make it anything!

Take a right on Sunset.

No, but for real, though, the CIA

really drugged and hypnotized people?

Oh, please! That's merely the tip

of a very dark and twisted iceberg.

Trust me, if there's a hell, those

creepy Dulles brothers are in it.

Doing unspeakable things with bananas.

Then why would you decide...

without even consulting
me, the owner of the agency...

to work for the CIA again?

Because my pool needs to be retiled.

And all new coping, whatever that is.

I don't know. I mean, I'm not saying

you can't zap somebody's
brain with LSD...

Oh, my God, even a baby knows that.

But nobody can hypnotize
me if I didn't wanna be.

Are you kidding? I could

hypnotize everybody in this office.

- No, you couldn't!
- Oh, you can't!

No, but without psychotropic drugs.

Or your goddamn brain chips, like you

made that rabbit a vegetable with.

Well, and also a human being.

No, none of that. Just pure hypnosis.

But if I can hypnotize you, you all

have to come see my one-man show,

Jo Jo Dancer, Ihr Leben Ruft!

- Oh...
- Dude, is that blackface?

- Yep! - Whoa!
- What the shit, man?

But you have to hypnotize each of us,

- everybody here in the office?
- Yep, yep, yep!

- Okay. Then you're on.
- Sweet!

- Wait, what?
- Yes! He said everybody.

Who do I
have to murder around here

to get this damn thing to make ice?

Whoa!

What is happening?

- God!
- Oh, I gotta go!

- They gone?
- Yep.

So, then, to repeat,

I demand immunity from this idiotic
Jo Jo Dancer bullshit.

Dang! You don't have to be hurtful.

I feel like I do. And how do you
think you're gonna pull this off?

Scopolamine, the zombie drug.

What? Are you kidding me?

Ugh! Are you?

Man, Veronica Deane.

- Remember her in Shanghai Moon?
- Oh, my God.

- That dress?
- Right?

Yeah. Tell him how you kissed her.

- What?
- First of all, she kissed me.

- My ass!
- My mouth. Wait.

I mean... And I
thought we were over that.

Well, apparently you're not.

I didn't cast her in Deadly Velvet.

Which, do you think they're currently

in principal photography on that, or...

I think it's neither the time nor the

place nor the Slater to discuss it!

I'm not the one who brought it up!

- You are exactly the one!
- First of all...

Could you both please shut up
and do what I hired you to do?

Which, if you already
knew Hinkins was here...

He's not. But there's somebody up

there who should know where he is.

Yeah, Lana. Ow!

Archer, your
professionalism never ceases to amaze me.

You know what's amazing?

Magnets! Especially for
dumb idiots like you.

Okay, what's this guy's name?

Eckerd. But follow my lead in there.

We gotta take it real easy. These
ex-ULTRA guys are really jumpy, so...

Hey, Eckerd, come move your
goddamn car outta my spot,

you bug-eyed son of a...

- Hey!
- Now who's the idiot?

Whoo!

He asked, idiotly.

Wait, wait, wait!

Damn it!

Holy shit!

Stop it!

- Eckerd!
- Slater!

It's okay. We just wanna talk.

Yeah, the gun's just
a conversation piece.

What? Bluntz & Blintzen?

Nice try, Krieger. Who
am I, the Road Runner?

Although if this is for
real, I'll never forgive myself.

Goddamn it, this better not be a ruse!

All right. There better be some damn...

What the...

Huh.

- Pamela.
- Yes, Doctor.

You are under my complete control.

- Yes, Doctor.
- Tell Cheryl to come in here.

Hey, neck-bird, come here a second!

Ugh! Why? Shut up! Why?

Uh, there's a mouse caught in

a trap, and he's still alive,

but his tiny little back's broken!

Where? Show me. I wanna see it. Where?

Eww!

Huh.

- Cheryl.
- Yes, Doctor.

Boolean search, hypnosis,

and how to defend against, yes?

Hey, Cyril, come here!

Why? Shut up! Why?

Uh, we found Lana's diary!

And it's all about your dong!

Yes, Doctor.

See? Easy peasy zombie squeezy.

You still gotta get Ms. Archer, and

she's not a candy-ass like these ones.

She's 80 pounds. This stuff

could paralyze a gorilla.

- On angel dust.
- Wha...

I better not smell marijuana!

Here we go, here we go, here we go!

I swear to God, you people, the...

Huh.

- Malory.
- Yes, Doctor.

- You are under my... Ow!
- You son of a...

Are you out of your mind?

- What is wrong with you?
- Oh-ho-ho!

Walk in here with you
idiots smoking reefers

like a bunch of
yardbirds, and you spritz me?

You spritz me?

- Well, let me tell you something, Herr Doktor!
- Oh!

I killed seven Krauts with a shovel,

so one more beardy son
of a bitch like you

won't make a damn bit of difference!

And you!

Any questions, little Miss Blintzen?

Mm-mm.

And when I get back from lunch,

you people had better be hard at work!

I told your dumb ass...

Yep.

Back in ten minutes. Be ready.

Ow, ow, ow, ow.

Ow, ow, ow, ow.

Eckerd, I'm not gonna ask you again.

- Good, because I'm not gonna tell you.
- Yes, you are.

So, how'd you know this
wasn't a combat shotgun,

with, say, five rounds in the tube?

- How would I know that?
- So you just barged in?

What am I gonna do, Lana, stand out

in the hall the rest of my life?

One.

- I...
- Two. Eckerd, I'm serious.

- It's got real bullets and everything.
- I...

I don't care. I won't tell you.

Slater, is that really necessary?

Actually, no. Could you grab me

a pitcher of water and a towel?

Wait! No, no! No! No!

No, no, no! Stop, stop,
stop! Okay, okay, okay.

Please. I'll tell you where he is.

- Wait, what?
- I'm waiting.

He didn't even pour any water on you.

Yeah, and he's not going to.

Hinkins is at the Tuntford Arms,

room 302, under the name "Swenders."

- Okay, we can be there...
- Wait a minute.

You give up your buddy just because some

dickhead threatens to waterboard you?

- Yes!
- Are you... How bad could it be?

- What? Are you kidding?
- Archer, it's...

- Wait. You wait.
- What?

How have you never been waterboarded?

- Why would I?
- What?

Gee, I don't know. Training?

- What?
- Oh, my...

Archer, we all had to...

- Where were you on waterboarding day?
- Uh...

No, no, no, no! Wait,
wait, wait, wait, wait! Wait!

I think I'm supposed to be somewhere.

But I also think I want the lavender

instead of the sandalwood. Right?

- Oh, who remembers?
- I do.

I remember exactly where I was, Archer.

I was strapped to a board and so

convinced I was actually drowning

that I shit my sweatpants.

- Wait. Not...
- Yes! Literally!

- Well, that sounds terrible.
- It is terrible.

I can't believe you weaseled out of it.

That is so classic you!

Yeah, right? Pretty great.

So, should we go, or do you need to

bungle the invasion of Cuba first?

Mm, no. We've got a few minutes.

So get on the table, idiot.

Exqueeze me?

You heard him.

No, but seriously, don't feel bad

when I'm totally unfazed by this.

Yeah, again, it's not gonna be

like some homoerotic prep-school swirlie.

Yeah, they were kind of oddly sexual.

Gonna just leave that there? Lana?

With pleasure.

Plus, I bet this only affects women.

- Really?
- Well, you know, people with vaginas.

- Uh-huh.
- However you choose to self-identify.

God, I'm going to enjoy this.

Well, I know you
like putting stuff in guys' mouths.

You finished?

I bet you ask guys that a lot.

Aah!

And then clear your throat!

Okay. All right. I'm
ready. Let's do this.

And just to
reiterate, waterboarding will

not affect me in any way whatsoever.

And,
also, you have a vagina.

I didn't know
it... it would be like that.

I mean, you... you...
you... you hear about it,

and you hear people say
it's bad, but you think,

"Oh, those people probably
have vaginas."

But I don't have a
vagina! But as God is my witness,

that was the worst thing I've
ever experienced in my...

Wait a minute! I've
actually drowned before!

Literally drowned! I was actually

clinically dead from drowning!

Which, looking back, I'm kind

of surprised I didn't remember

when I was joking about everybody
having vaginas, but...

- Lana...
- No-o-o-o!

No, no, no, no, no.

Do not speak to me. You
have said quite enough.

Yeah, but I... Oh, come on, Lana.

It is a proven fact that torture makes

you say what your captors wanna hear.

I don't think she wanted to
hear about how you've been struggling

with what you truly believe are

genuine feelings for Veronica Deane.

- I...
- Speaking of vaginas...

- Were we?
- Ughhh!

Oh, my God, I'm such a fatty.

Ray! Ray, come in here!

Why? Shut up! Why?

Because he said
so, you little snot!

Uh...

- Coming!
- And bring the others!

Well, y'all heard the man. Come on!

Yes, Ray.

Sorry.

- I was putting away the blintzes.
- I bet.

- Silence, woman.
- Yes, Doctor.

How did you, um...

Oh, uh, just gave her another spritz.

What the...

- Why are they crawling?
- Oh, sorry.

I turned them into little, wiggly pugs.

It's okay. I was gonna do that, too.

Hey, no! Save it for the camera.

All righty, I guess let's get 'em

stripped down to their unterpantzen.

As a matter of fact, why don't

you just call her up and ask her out?

Lana...

Take her to the Brown
Derby for the early-bird special,

get her some chicken croquettes.

Oh, oh, oh, and some sherbet!

Old people love sherbet!

She's, like, 50.

Million!

Doesn't even make sense.

Oh, and how old is Ellis Crane?

Moot! The question is moot,

because I didn't make
out with Ellis Crane!

Hey, guys, as much as I'm loving this,

- what say we focus on the mission here?
- I am focused, Slater!

But once we find this
Hinkins guy, you can just...

- Whoa! Son of a...
- Jesus!

You were saying?

Hinkins! Hinkins, wait! Damn it!

I'll take the lobby. You two
take that stairwell to the roof.

- Move, move, move, move!
- Who died and made you hall monitor?

Oh, shut up and come on!

- He's going up!
- Why are you still talking?

Well, that's a good question, Lana,

because obviously you can't have a

mature conversation about this.

- And I know you like 'em mature!
- Case in point!

- And, gee, I wonder why that is.
- Lana!

Paging Dr. Freud! Dr. Sigmund

"Oh, By The Way, Deep Down, I

Really Wanna Plow My Mom" Freud!

That's not even...

I didn't even say that while
I was being waterboarded.

Well, you...

Oh, shit. Hinkins, wait!

Wait! No, no,
no! Don't move! We can...

You can tell Slater and the rest
of those vampires at the agency

that ULTRA doesn't end with me!

It can never end, you see!
It's a... It's a Mobius strip!

An endless ticker
tape, and we are the data!

The tiny pinholes...

Yeah, good, keep him talking.

I'm gonna sneak up on him from the side.

The... Wait, what?

to kill me...

Huh?

That was your plan?

Well, you didn't even have one.

Sometimes doing nothing is a plan!

And... spoiler alert... nothing is what

you should've done with Veronica Deane,

instead of that pathetic
little fanboy make-out session at the...

Ugh!

For 's sake!

- Archer.
- Hmm? What? What are we doing?

Oh, I'll tell you what we're doing.

Does it involve scraping a CIA
asset off the roof of a Datsun Honey Bee?

Man, I hope not.

Uh, yeah. So, here's the thing here...

The thing here is
that I am not paying you!

- That's the thing here!
- What the shit, Slater?

I mean, maybe it didn't end well for

Hinkins, if it was even supposed to...

But either way, nobody got assassinated.

Yeah, good point. But, funny story,

I wasn't gonna pay you anyway, so...

Huh. Well, the good news is...

- Shh.
- What?

Shh, shush, shush, shush.

- Do you hear that?
- What?

That sound. I think it's the break.

The what? What... What brake?

The break that we're on!

Oh.

Okay. Now I get it.

I thought she was talking about the

brakes on the Datsun Honey Bee.

But, uh...

nope.

Oh, my head.

Hey, where the heck are my pants?

Pants,
hell. Where's that damn cat?

Ugh! What cat?

The one that shit in
my mouth.

And that may or may not be a metaphor.

Well, this sure as hell isn't.

Yep, yep, yep! Okay.

Now you're all birds of prey.

Ja! Und Cyril ist Der Falkonmeister!

Ja, ja! Untzergrabben! Untzergrabben!

Oh, my God! You are hands down the

world's shittiest Falkonmeister.

What? I don't even remember that.

You don't have to. It's on tape.

So now we gotta go see Jo Jo Dancer.

Which better be as racist as it looks.

And you're not, like, hungover, or...

- Why would I be?
- No, I mean you wouldn't,

especially if you weren't exposed to

scopolamine or something like that.

Scopolamine? Why would I have been?

I... No, yeah, no... I... You know, I...

Yeah, exactly. Why?

And more importantly, how?

Okay,
that's... Oh, come on. Stop it.

That's just about enough of... What...

Well, that does it, missy!

- You can just cool your jets in there.
- Yes, Doctor.

And by "jets," obviously I
mean your actual cooling jets, so...

Yes, Doctor.

So, yeah, just cool your jets...

Oh, and as for the rest of you...

Now that I think about it, let's

everybody cool their respective jets.

Excellent. Yes.

Yes, very good.

Well, short term, anyway.

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- www.Addic7ed.com -