Hurry, hurry, sit down. Come in.
I have the most fantastic news.
What, did Bub finally die? Who's Bub?
My mother, and before you make some snotty comment...
...yes, I have a mother. Do you wanna hear my news or not?
Yeah, if you're done yelling at me for no reason.
Last night, an Air Force B-52 bomber crashed off the coast of Bermuda.
That's bad news. Well, it's about fricking time.
What? We're not bombing them in advance of an amphibious invasion?
Why would we invade Bermuda?
Oh, ha, Bermuda. Duh. I was thinking Bahamas.
Same question. Same answer.
Why not? It's how we got the Virgin Islands.
Actually, the United States bought the Virgin Islands from Denmark.
Okay, Mr. Peabody. Are you finished?
Yes. Good.
Because the B-52 was-- In the middle of the Bermuda Triangle.
Is this about the Bermuda Triangle? That's my fourth biggest fear.
It's about the B-52's payload.
- Namely, a Mark-28 hydrogen bomb. - Oh, my God.
Which ISIS is going to recover.
Wait, do what? What?
And then give to the U.S. government in exchange for a huge reward.
What? So ransom it back.
No, not ransom it, Cyril.
We're-- Look, semantics, whatever.
This is... Treason?
...a huge opportunity for ISIS.
- Or the Russians. - Wait. What?
The B-52 is on the ocean floor here at a depth of 8000 feet.
Or 1333 fathoms.
How do you know that? How do you not?
So recovering the bomb requires a deep submergence vehicle.
The only American DSV is here in the Pacific.
The Russians have one in the North Atlantic.
So if they hear about the wreck and start steaming toward it--
They don't actually steam anymore, Mother.
It's a figure of speech, like shut your hatch.
Because my point was the Russians will beat them to it.
So we are going to beat the Russians.
Give it up, folks. Mike Eruzione.
Yeah!
Well-- Shut up. Since Krieger doesn't have a submersible hidden in his lab...
Or do I?
I don't, actually.
Then how are we supposed to beat anybody to a hydrogen bomb...
...under 2.27 leagues of water?
Oh, my Jesus. Goddamn, all right already.
Can I possibly help you?
Please, I know you were talking loud so I'd hear you, so whatever.
But we're not speaking, so if you want a deep submergence whatever...
...you can talk to my stupid, gross brother Cecil.
Who, by the way, is here to see you.
Ms. Archer will see you now.
Thank you, Cheryl. I-- Aaarggh! I hate you!
Ahem. Hello, I'm Cecil Tunt. I believe you're in need of some assistance?
Yeah, Rien Poortvliet just called. He wants you to pose for him.
Oh, come on, beloved illustrator of Gnomes?
Jesus, read a coffee table book!
AmericasCardroom.com brings poker back Million Dollar Sunday Tournament every Sunday
Wow. You own an island...
...an undersea laboratory and this choppersaurus?
Guess it doesn't suck to be a billionaire, huh? Probably not.
But Cheryl and I split our parents' estate, so technically I'm only worth 500 million.
Which also doesn't suck, obviously.
Unlike you, who totally sucks obviously.
Will you shut up?
I swear to God, if you get us kicked off before I get my jumbo scrimps on...
...you will wish you were Michael Findlay. A, Cecil won't kick you off.
He wants everybody here for no good reason.
He doesn't need one. He's an American hero...
...who's going to make me rich.
And B, that's not even real shrimp. This is all vegan soy bullshit.
Because he's totally vegan...
...because his stupid, gross girlfriend Tiffy is a vegan and a brother-stealer!
Who can also totally hear you.
Which is amazing. Why aren't you dead from protein deficiency?
Because I get all eight essential amino acids...
...from amaranth and quinoa without murdering helpless animals.
Hey, Tiff.
Could you, instead of antagonizing her, maybe go ahead and take off?
Love you.
We'll rendezvous with my research vessel in a few hours...
...so in the meantime, I guess...
...continue to make such wildly liberal use of the bar.
Done. You're okay, Cecil.
I don't get why Cheryl hates you so much. Right?
You've got this whole Jacques Cousteau thing going on, that's--
Just one of my many philanthropies.
I have so much on my plate, as it were.
Children Without Plates, speaking of plates.
Doctors Within Borders--
"Within Borders"?
Well, of countries ravaged by war. Right, otherwise--
Otherwise there's not really much point.
Then there's Nourish a Child, Shoe a Child, Bespectacle A Child.
Um... One Laptop Per Child Soldier-- Wait, what?
Which, unfortunately, soon became One Thousand Laptops Per Warlord.
Man, all those charities have gotta cost, like-- Hey, I should go help Tiffy...
...since we're ﬂying into the Bermuda Triangle...
...where mysteries abound!
What kind of mysteries? I'm kidding. Ha, ha, ha, ha...
- Well, Cheryl, you come by it honest. - Speaking of--
Ah! Lana, come on. We're about to fly into the Bermuda Triangle.
My nerves are frayed enough as it is. Really?
No. Long Island Iced Tea number three really took the edge off.
You want one? No, I'm not drinking, but--
Oh, my God. I totally saw this coming. What--? You saw what coming?
Did you not join the Nation of Islam? No, Archer, I--
You know they won't let you keep dating Cyril, right? Plus, no bacon.
You done?
Well, for now, but after I take a nap, I'll--
You'll wake up in time to get shot for treason...
...because your mom wants to ransom a bomb to the United States.
It's a reward. And maritime salvage law is very clear on the subject...
...according to Cecil. And what's he getting out of this?
I guess whatever useless thing philanthropists normally get...
...from squandering their money on the poor.
So, what, he's conducting a huge naval operation just for a warm fuzzy?
Uh-- Hey, wait a second.
What? I think I have room for a Fuzzy Navel.
Wow, Tiffy, who taught you how to ﬂy?
Was it that goose you freed, ruining last year's Christmas dinner, or-?
Ugh! Cecil, I swear to Goddess...
I know, Tiffy. But please, try to focus on the greater good.
In the words of the immortal Jeremy Bentham--
Good thing I'm immortal, because if she says one more word to me...
...I will slam this helicopter into the fricking ocean.
Well, you seem busy.
So say it's worth 2 billion. A fair reward on that would be...
Ahem. Hello. Oh, Mr. Tunt.
Please join me. You're just the person I wanna talk to.
And I, you. About my sister.
I was curious if you'd noticed anything, well, curious about her behavior.
Oh, you're serious. I'm afraid so, yes.
Well, how much time do you have?
As much as you need.
Oh, my God. I don't know what to say.
I have figuratively lost my tongue.
With Brent, it was almost literally.
That's why we can't have scissors.
I had no idea her mental state had declined to such an extent.
I mean, the arson is not surprising.
What have you done?
Take that, gazebo!
But you're telling me she had...
Mm. Choke sex, that's her kink.
With a KGB cyborg.
After she led him straight to the ISIS safe house...
...at 921 East 73rd Street.
Oh, my"
Wait, is that classified?
I won't tell if you won't tell.
Okay.
Well, I appreciate your candor in this matter, Ms. Archer.
Oh, no, it's Ms.
Oh. Ms., yes.
Thank you for... Mm... Yes.
Come on. You call this fully-stocked?
And no Georgia peaches?
What the--? What are you doing?
L-- What are you doing?
Hairy Navel. Started as a Fuzzy, but I'm calling this vacation, so...
Okay. Love our little talks.
Hi. It's Pam, right?
Enjoying the cruelty-free vegan seafood buffet?
Mm! It's pretty good once you get over how allergic I am to soy.
What? Oh, my God, don't eat that. Hey!
I'm a consenting adult.
Plus, I assume you've got an EpiPen on this big Riptide-looking bastard?
L-- Yes.
In the cockpit in the first aid kit, but-- Well, then shut up.
Okay, shutting up, yes-.
But before I do, could I ask you a few questions?
How is everybody okay with this?
How are you not? Lana, you heard Ms. Archer.
It's either us or the Russians-- I did not hear that, but--
But if you found somebody's wallet, you'd expect to get a reward, so--
What if they won't pay a reward? What, she just keeps the bomb?
It's not gonna come to that. Ooh! But if it does...
...we could move to Cecil's island and be a rogue state.
Cool.
Ugh! Forget it.
Oh, and also, dummies, we're 500 miles from the nearest tree.
Hey, thanks, Magellan.
Wait, why the heck are you painting my face?
Because you look fierce. Rrowr!
Well, thank you, Pam.
I appreciate your candor, and you really, really should really stop eating those.
Last one.
Malory, please, is there any way I can get you to reconsider this?
Well, if you feel that strongly... I so do.
Cecil says marine salvage goes for 10 to 20 percent of the item's value.
But since all I'm asking is a measly 3 percent,
if you've got $60 million lying around...
Exqueeze me? I know, right?
It's a steal at twice the price.
Yeah, and about that. Cyril figured out how big our bonuses should be.
Your what?
L-- Ray made me. Cyril. Come on, you're fierce. Rrowr.
No, don't!
Could I speak to you for a moment?
Wildly liberal use, Cecil. Those were your exact words.
No, of course, that's totally fine, but I wanted to talk to you about--
Don't say "high-functioning alcoholism."
I wasn't going to. Well, then what's on your mind?
Well, it's about my sister. Hey, whoa.
I don't know what she told you, but Carol's a consenting adult, so--
Well, that's actually my point.
I wanted to ask you if you'd ever seen her acting strangely on...
Ha, ha! Ha! Ah...
Oh, you're-- You're serious.
Just ignore it. It's non-diegetic.
Last one. Stinky-pinky swear. Mmm...
Psst! Pam.
Aw, crap.
- Already? - Pam.
Look, auditory hallucinations aren't gonna make you any less delicious.
Hey, I was talking to that. Shh. Shut up. I need your help.
And that's how you ask? Cecil's, like, interviewing everybody.
Yeah, he-- Is he doing that?
Yes. And I think he's taping it. Look, there's cameras everywhere.
Huh.
He's taping them saying I'm crazy...
...so that he can show it to a judge and get conservatorship over me.
Huh. “Huh" what?
I mean, you think that's the worst idea anybody ever had?
Oh, my God.
I know. It's hard to hear, but-- Ow!
I thought you were my friend! Yeah, and for like six months...
...you also thought you were a werewolf!
Ah, crap, I can't feel my face.
Last one, swear to God.
Ha. I swear to God...
...every full moon she'd make us lock her in the ISIS vault. Ha, ha.
Oh, my God. How are you laughing? That's not funny. It's tragic.
I, uh... No.
Yeah, but you know, plus time, it equals--
Thank you. I've heard quite enough.
Now, if you'll please excuse me, I-- Cecil.
My darling whom I love...
...and also strangers whom I don't even like...
...our ETA is 15 minutes.
And the seas are really choppy, so we may be in for a rough landing.
Thank you. Love you.
So you may wanna switch to coffee.
Oh, you're still serious.
Or am I?
I am actually.
Have you people lost your minds?
Because apparently it's going around. Because-- Shut up.
If we recover the bomb, I will decide if any of you receive a tiny bonus, so--
"if"? Guys, shut up.
I got this. Shut up. What do you mean "if"?
Also, what are we talking about?
Nothing. There's nothing to talk about, because I am--
Jesus Christ!
Okay, it's either the altitude or a stroke.
Mother, it's Sterling.
Do you smell toast? Pam?
What the--? --hell are you doing?
The cockpit is off-limits, missy! Oh, yeah?
Well, so is my inheritance!
Goddamn it, shut up, John Williams!
Oh, my God. You really are crazy!
Would a crazy person do this?
Yes!
What the hell is going on? It's Cheryl. She's in the cockpit.
I think she's trying to kill us all!
Oh, good. Phew!
Heh. For a second there, I thought I drank too much.
Get off me!
Cheryl! Cheryl, open this door!
Why is there a lock on it?
Well, obviously to prevent this exact scenario from ever happening, but--
Now? Really? You think this is a good time to be facetious?
I'm fairly certain you're not using "facetious" correctly.
Cheryl, can you come out so we can talk about this like adults...
...who aren't gonna die in a helicopter crash?
We'll crash with the tapes of all of you stupid jerks saying I'm crazy!
- The what? - The tapes!
It's part of his sneaky plan...
...to get conservatorship over me so he can steal my inheritance!
That's why she hijacked his helicopter?
Man, talk about rich people problems.
What are you--? Archer, Pam is dying.
Cyril, shut up. I'm in charge here.
And, okay, here's what we're doing.
Emergency tracheotomy.
Sterling' With a crazy straw-
It's fine. It's pretty sterile.
That Hairy Navel was mostly Kentucky Moon.
That's not even how you make a Hairy Navel.
I know, it's a new drink. Help me think of a name-.
So far all I've got is Horatio Cornblower, which...
Okay, here's what's happening.
I'm gonna make a small incision in your trachea with this.
Archer!
Yeah, right, that's not sterile.
Ugh! And since when do you carry a switchblade?
It's a long story, Mother.
Neat.
Well, not so much long. It's just not very interesting.
Okay, Pam, you with me?
Then I'm gonna stick this in the incision and you should be good to go.
Are you ready?
Uh-uh! Aargh! - Hey, no. Don't-- Pam!
Stop it! Guys, hold her arms. She-- Ow!
Okay. Sorry in advance for this.
First aid kit! EpiPen!
Oh, my God, the first aid kit. I think it might have an EpiPen.
Mm-hm!
Oh! Jeez, and hopefully a cold pack.
Will you--? Go get the damn first aid kit!
I am, but not because you said so.
Just breathe, Pam. It's on the way.
So you think Cecil's really trying to steal Cheryl's inheritance?
Who cares?
Well, you should. Because?
Because you've been trying to get your bony man-hooks on her money for years...
...and how the hell are you gonna do that if Cecil gets it?
Tapes! We have to find and destroy the tapes.
There must be some recording device somewhere.
And why are you still standing there? Go! Wait. What about Pam?
I'll buy you a new one! Ow!
Oh, quit milking it.
Hey, hey, hey.
Lana, stop. What?
If you damage that, it might not work in the event of an emergency.
And what would you call this?
Oh, right. Speaking of, Pam's dying of anaphylactic shock.
You got a first aid kit? I-- It's in the cockpit.
Which is locked and-- No, no, no!
And also apparently bulletproof. Well, yeah, you'd want it to be to prevent--
You shot me, you idiot!
Hey, first of all, if I shot you, you'd know it.
And secondly, now who's the idiot?
You! All of you!
You're here because I wanted you here, so I could--
Help us get the hydrogen bomb, yeah.
Oh, my God! There is no bomb! What?
Well, guess I had that coming.
Well, you don't have to rub it in.
I just wanted to get you people on tape saying Cheryl was crazy...
...so I could get control of her inheritance
to fund my numerous philanthropies.
Ah-ha! Heh... Hang on.
Now, shut up and land this shitheap! Ahem.
Now, I believe there was some mention of anaphylactic shock?
Thank you. She's my patient, Lana.
Wait, so if all you wanted was to get us on tape saying she's crazy--
Which I'm totally not, by the--
You could've done that in a lawyer's office.
Why drag us all the way here to the middle of the ocean?
Well, promise you won't get mad?
- Ugh. No. - You asshole!
Stupid drunk-ass...
...switchblade tracheotomy-giving dicknuts! Ow! Pam, cut it-- Ow!
Sorry. Thanks, I feel a lot better.
Yeah, that's why I jammed it in your neck. I figured if-- Ow!
What the hell was that for? Horatio Cornblower?
Heh, heh. I know, right? You got anything?
Dicknuts.
Okay, we got the tapes. Big whoop.
L-- Wait, I thought you wanted-- What just happened?
It was a hoax. There is no bomb.
Boom! Guess you had that coming.
Oh, put another man's penis in it.
Attention, unwelcome passengers.
We are now landing...
...so please find your seats and fasten your seat belts.
Or not, because, frankly...
...I could give a shit if all you people live or die.
The odds on which I'd put at about--
What do you think, Cecil, 50-to-1? Ow, ow, ow!
Lana, what's going on?
Somebody shot him. Will you--? Lana, what's going on?
Why don't you ask Cecil?
Ow! God, your hands are like-- Ow!
Well, as you may know...
...one of my many philanthropic endeavors is an undersea research laboratory...
...which, as luck would have it, is actually beneath us right now.
Cut to the chase. Ow!
Anyhoo, the lead scientist is threatening--
Well, he can tell you. Ahem.
Captain Murphy.
Ah! Please tell me you guys heard that.
Ah, Mr. Tunt.
Don't worry. He can't see us.
No, but I can hear you.
Although he can hear us.
Yes, I can. And please hear me.
For years, decades, I have begged the so-called leaders of the world...
...to stop poisoning our oceans, but they have ignored my pleas.
As I will ignore theirs, Mr. Tunt.
Unless my list of demands is met...
. “in the next-- Tick, took, tick. --12 hours.
At which point, I will launch our missiles on Washington, Miami and New York.
Hope everybody has a gas mask.
Why do they have missiles?
And what did he mean by "gas mask"?
L-- You know, that was, I think, maybe, probably...
...because the missiles are definitely tipped with VX nerve gas.
Oh, my God. What?
The-- It's the-- Damn it!
Still can't beat Horatio Cornblower.
Dicknuts.
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