Archer (2009–…): Season 9, Episode 2 - Danger Island: Disheartening Situation - full transcript

Archer works to overcome his dead stick while Pam and those who bailed try to survive the local nightlife.

(Archer laughs) Oh, for...


Why's everybody pissed at me?

I'm the one with no parachute
in a plane that can't land.



LANA: Well?

What do we do now?

I mean, pretty much just this.

She means how do we land?

Oh. Yeah, that's
this whole big thing.

What do you mean?!
Gott im Himmel...

You need, like, training.

So train us. Ja.

Okay, okay, uh...

Okay, the first
thing you wanna do

is get out your notebooks
and two number two pencils.

LANA: What? CYRIL: Was?

PAM: Wait, shit, that
was the classroom portion.

Gott verdamme dich. Which...

I mean, even if
we had pencils...

Tell us what to do.

Okay, when you're
about to hit the ground,

you just kinda go limp.

Limp? Heh. Oh,
right, like this guy

doesn't know what "limp"
means, am I right, ladies?

Crackers! Oh, my God.

Was ist "limp"? Relax.


Ugh. It means relax.

(chuckles) Dipshit. Right?

But can we get a
little more detail?

Jesus, lady, okay.

Your knees are kind of bent,

and right when
you hit the ground,

you relax and just
fall over sideways,

and kind of roll from
your feet, up your legs,

and then... (Cyril shrieks)

Well, shit. Okay, Princess
Highpockets, you're up.

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

Jesus, people,
how hard is it to...

Aah! (grunting)

Oh, man. I had
something about, like,

"flying is for the birds"?

No, it's gone.

(Pam grunting)

Goddamn it.

Come on, you son of a...


(sighs) Idiocy.

LANA: Help!

Get me down.

Shh! Now.

I will, but quit yelling.
(deep growl in distance)

(gasps) We're not currently

at the top of the food
chain. (whispering): Sorry.

Now relax, you're gonna be fine.

CYRIL: Help!

PAM: Him, on the other hand...


That's enough to make any
guy go limp, am I right, ladies?

Shut up, bird.


♪ ♪

LANA: Promise me. (Pam grunts)

Bocados de mierda.

I promise I will catch you.

Well, you'd
better. It is a crime

to harm a member
of the royal family.

What, you gonna
arrest the ground?

Oh, so you can crack
wise, but... Bird...

(coughs into wing) Okay,

one, two, three! (Pam grunts)

My goodness.

I didn't realize
you were so strong.

Yeah, state cheese toss
champ, five years running.

But don't get any ideas, sister.

Wh...? Now, just
you wait one minute.

Because what the
hell is a cheese toss?

What?! Seriously?

CYRIL: Ugh! Verdammte Idioten!

How do I get down from here?

PAM: I mean, you
just unbuckle it and...

Wh...? Are you mad? PAM: No.

I will fall.

PAM: You don't
really have a choice.

Of course I do.
I will stay here.

M'kay. What? No.

We cannot leave
him here. He is vital

to our fledgling
breadfruit industry.

Which is... fledgling.

So then that's probably bad...


Aw, man.

(Cyril stammering)


(panting) H-Hilfe.

If it's not one frickin' thing
with you people, it's another.

(whispers): Do you have a plan?

(sighs) I do, actually.

Okay, Lucy, here's the plan.

Mitimotu is here, but with
the wheels stuck down,

the closest airstrip
we can land on

is on Motu Papa... here.

Which is west-northwest,
a heading of 295 degrees.

Let's call it 320
nautical miles.

Airspeed 110, burn rate 50 per,

call it 55 with the wheels
down, if we run it lean

and if the fuel pump holds,

'cause if it doesn't,
none of this shit matters.

Tailwind is five.

Fuel-weight ratio, rho
times alpha, then lift-to-drag,

where W is force in
newtons, which means...

if we catch a few breaks
and the tailwind holds,

our maximum range is...

Goddamn it.


(sighs) Great.
Now that's broken.


That cannot be your plan.

Well, if you'd hit the stupid
buckle when I told you to...


That's his tongue
on my face, isn't it?

Okay, Fritz, hang tight.

Ba-dum-bump. Bird.

You can't shoot the snake.

Why not? They
slither into our nests,

they eat our eggs,
they eat our chicks.

I meant she could hit Fuchs.

I stand by my statement.

Don't worry, Princess. I'm
not shootin' at the snake.

Warte, was?

Nein, nein, nein,
nein, nein, nein...



(thumping, grunting continuing)


Oh, man. Santa mierda.

Is he...? I mean...

CYRIL: Get me... (all gasp)

the hell out of here!

RAY: Bien sur, mon amie,

avec plaisir. Don't you want

to know why? Non. Just how much.

Quelle chance.
The perfect amount.

Apres toi.

But since you mentioned "why"...

Oh, but "why" is such
a troublesome question,

though, don't you agree?

I mean, once you
start pulling threads,

there's no telling
where it'll end.

One minute you're wearing
a lovely cable-knit sweater,

and the next there's a
pile of yarn on the floor,

and you're standing there...

(yelps) (yelps)

Jesus "what is
the 'H' for" Christ.

And you can keep
your stupid turnip...

I'm not hungry.

Mes bonbons! Your what?

Cochon stupide.

Qu'est-ce que tu as fait?

C'etait un cadeau de ma mere.

You... De Paris.

C'etait de Paris.

You said I could have one.

Yes, one.

One, you cow bitch.

I didn't know
which one I wanted!


Out! What?

Out, out, out, out, out!

No. It's some kind of ruse,

you're gonna shoot
me in the back, or, or...

It's not a ruse.
I paid your bail.

Oh. Well then.


But, now, wait a
minute, Miss Thing...

On n'a plus besoin de navet.


ARCHER: Hey, come on...

Chin up, Archer...

You-You've been in
tougher scrapes, huh?

Remember the Andes?
Paso de Muerte?

Come on, death was
right there in the name.

All those dogfights over Spain

against the Condor
Legion, remember?

This guy knows
what I'm talking about.

So if the Andes couldn't kill me

and the Krauts
couldn't kill me...

I mean, I know it's kinda
hard to grasp... but, uh...

I might be immortal.

I... am...



Jesus Christ.

I-I am dying.

Shut up, you're not dying.

You just got a
couple of busted ribs.

And probably a punctured lung.

Was? Bird.

What? We were all thinking it.

No one is thinking that.

He is. Ja, I am now.

See? (animal growling)

(all gasp) I feel like

if I have to remind you people

how much you need
to shut the hell up,

I'm gonna lose my temper.

Well... and I think I
speak for the group...

I feel like you already have.

Ja, und me, also.
So do I, actually.

(sighs) Well, if you
think I'm mad now,

wait till I'm getting
shit out of a dragon.

KRIEGER: What? LANA: Wait, what?

CYRIL: Huh? Was? PAM: Ahem.

Oka atua. Holy birdshit.

Was? Was ist los?

(clears throat) So, listen,

I'm probably gonna
head out. (grunts)

But then what
would I use for bait?


There we are...

A nice cool glass
of pastis, to...

whet the appetite.

For what? New experiences?

You realize I can't
pay for this. Mm-hmm.

Or pay you back
for bailing me out.

Which reminds me,
why'd you do that?

Well, you said it yourself:
you're stranded here,

abandoned by the
husband you cuckolded,

thousands of miles
from New York,

where you're a disgrace,
an outcast, a laughingstock...

All right. Jesus.

You're a vagrant without
a franc to your name,

so Reynaud can arrest you
again whenever he wants,

and I doubt he'd lose
much sleep over it.


noix de coco...



And so, even if you had a
passport and a ticket out,

if you're sitting in that
rich, chocolatey jail cell...

I could be stuck here...



So why not make the most of it?

ARCHER: I mean, it's not like

you really have a choice, so...


maybe you really are immortal.

(burps, chuckles)

Tha-That'd explain a lot.

You want me to be a whore?!

No, not a whore.

Good heavens, no.
You'd be more like a...


Who men pay for sex.

And sparkling conversation.

I... And not just
men, necessarily.

What? And, actually,
they'd pay me

(scoffs) and then I'd pay you...

a percentage. A percentage?!

Let's call it...

ARCHER: 49 feet.

Wingtip to wingtip.

And I bet that's
50 feet wide, right?

Yeah, I bet that's 50...

Which means we've got six
inches to spare on both sides, Lucy,

and, uh, you know I can
do a lot with six inches.

Ba-dum-pshh! Huh?
Am I right, Luce?

Lucy, am I right?

(engines sputter, stops)

Luce. Lucy.

Lucille Goosille.

Oh, okay, so, then,
I guess, just pout.

But I would think it
goes without saying

that it's also in
your best interest

if we don't crash and burn.

(engines sputtering)

Thank you.

Jesus, was that so har...

(engines stop)


You fat bitch.

(Cyril grunting)


Fette Schlampe.

That better mean "Thank you."

(grunts) It does not.

That's okay, you can thank me

if we get out of
this with our skin on.

Which... What is
taking you so long?

Okay, hold your damn horses.

Here. Nein. I don't want this.

(animal grumbles) (all gasping)

PAM: Nobody wants any of this.

But everybody is
gonna do their bit.

Starting with you.
Get up in those trees

and gimme some aerial recon.

Yep. Yep, yep, yep.

And if you leave us here,

I will find you,
I will pluck you,

I will slather your bumpy skin
with olive oil and rosemary,

and then I will shove a
beer can up your asshole,

and roast your ancient carcass

until it is golden brown
and goddamn delicious.


And how old are you, anyway?

Like, 40?


Man, I had something about...

dead-stick... something?

No, it's gone.

(exhales) Okay,
Luce, it's now or never.

Never! Oh, all right, 60/40.

That... (scoffs) No, I
will not be your whore.

Whatever. I won't do it.

Because you will
be in my jail. What?

Unless you can
show me 100 francs

or proof of onward voyage.

You know I don't have either.

And I do not have my bonbons.

And so, madame... aprez-vous.

And what if I say no?


Aah! Sacre bleu!

Jesus Christ!

(woman screams)

ARCHER: Son of a...


Mon Dieu. C'est le volcane!

It's not the volcano, you idiot!

I hate this stupid island!

Jesus Christ. Ow...

ARCHER: (grunts) So...


What now? Sterling.

Ooh! (grunts) Shut
up. Quick question:

how wide is the,
uh, street out there?

40 feet? Mm-hmm.

Speaking of:
you're good with 40?

ARCHER: (stammers)
Wha-What's that?

(stammers) MALORY: Oh, good,

he's coming to. Hooray.

Oh, shut up.

And you... give him some air.

Airspeed. Nose up.

Flaps! Flaps!

(coughs, chuckles)

Holy shit, I... I
really am immortal.

And also in serious trouble.

Shut up. Where's Pam?
She's gonna love this.

She... There was
nobody on the plane.

So where is la princesse?

Wait, no, no, no,
they... they bailed out.

Jesus Christ, how
long was I out?

One hour? Flew by.

Oh, my God, so they're
out there in the jungle.

I-In the dark?

(gasps) Mon Dieu.

So? What happens on
shithole island when it gets dark?

On three, I start blasting.

(dragon grumbles)


One... two...

(sighs) Goddamn it.

I am genuinely sorry.

But I am absolutely
commandeering your vehicle,

so... No, I forbid
you. You are insane.

Hmm. Your concerns are noted.

Putain! (grunts)

ARCHER: Great. Sterling!

Be careful.

(laughs) No.

PAM: Okay.

One, two...

Everybody try not to take
a big greasy shit on me...

You know what?

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

What? (dragons grumble)

What if they're like
sharks? They are.

Yeah. Right?

No, what if when you shoot one,

the smell of its blood sends
the others into a feeding frenzy?

I'm gonna shoot the
others. No. All the others.

(dragons grumble)

KRIEGER: Like if they
can smell one drop of blood

from miles and miles
away... Mein Gott.

There could be hundreds
of them out there.

Thousands. Who gives a shit?

(dragons grumble)


First of all, they're
not like sharks... Ehh...

In that way. And second of all,

any one of these big
bastards could kill you.

The rest of 'em are just gonna

be fightin' over your
dead-ass bones.

Well... I dunno.

I vote we take a vote.
Yup. Yup, yup, yup.

Second. (sighs)
I swear to God...

RAY: Where are we going?

Well, they bailed out
south of Tarako, so...

Le volcan? Attention!

You must slow down.

Oh, this piece of
shit can go slower?

Of course, you...
Oh, le sarcasme.

Cognate. Nice.

Anyway, if nobody's hurt

and Pam's got 'em
headed in the right direction,

they should run
right into this trail.

If the serpents and
lizards and cannibals

don't run into them first.

Yeah, seems like a shitty place

for a breadfruit
plantation, huh?

Breadfruit? Here? Right?

That's what I... (rapid
gunfire in distance)

Oh, shit.


(all screaming)

I'm out. We were
supposed to vote.

I voted no. Reloading.

(dragons snarling)

Oh, man, there's
even more of 'em.

Come on, come on,
come on. Gott im Himmel!

Nothing is worth this!

I don't care about the idol!

Do what? What idol?

What? Wait? What? No, he said

look out! (Cyril shrieks)

(grunts) No!

PAM: Loaded.

(all screaming) (dragons
roaring and shrieking)

Nein, nein, nein, nein,
nein. They're everywhere!

KRIEGER: What the
hell's in those bullets?

Reloading. Lizard pheromones?

(sniffs) I don't think so.


(dragons roaring and shrieking)

What the hell are
you doing here?

Get in.

Oh, right. Heavy barrel!

Take that, lizard!

And that!

(all screaming)

Get some! Get some!

(dragons roaring and shrieking)

Okay, we're in. Go.

ARCHER: Whoooooo!

Et toi! Et toi!

Slow down.

Oh, my God, all right.

ALL: Whoa!

PAM: Oh, just like old times.

(all exclaim)

Oh, okay.

Yeah, so, I guess
no thanks necessary.

Danke, danke... Thank you.

Well, I mean... Bird.

But how did you find us?

I dunno. Just lucky, I guess.

Grace a Dieu...

And wait, where did you land?

(chuckles) Oh, man,
Pam. Speaking of luck...

PAM: So, you're all lined up,

thinking, "I've got
50 feet to work with..."

just 49, tip to tip...

PAM: And of course
the fuel pump's out...

so I'm, you know...

PAM: Dead-stickin'
it. ARCHER: Right?

PAM: Yeah, so, but
then you slam a wing

into that first tree down there,

and then it just sorta
shitstorms on ya...

ARCHER: Well, yeah, because...

Because any asshole could tell

that this street is
not 50 feet wide,

and even if it was,

that only gives you six
frickin' inches to spare.

Right? And I actually had
something for that, about, like...

doing a lot with six
inches, or like, it was like...

Like, what if you'd fixed
the goddamn fuel pump

so the crash never happened?!

Mmm... no, it was
more like a dick...




Heh. Funny stuff.

♪ ♪

MAN: Made in Georgia.