Ruined. Completely...
Mother, come on, we're not...
Shut up. And utterly...
We're not... Shut up. And ruined!
We're not "ruined," Camille.
We've got 2,000 pounds of cocaine.
Minus the 20 kilos you sold for Monopoly money,
oh, minus however much Pam ate, probably two kilos.
Or three, or whatever.
Quit eating all the goddamn cocaine!
Make me!
My point, unless Pam ate it,
is that things could be a lot worse.
How? You sold a million dollars of product
for this worthless stack of paper.
How could it be any worse?
I hate to agree with Archer, but it could be worse,
these are actually really good fakes.
I mean, not good enough to deposit in a bank, but...
Good enough to pass in, say, a deli?
Yeah, I guess, but... Shut up.
So you take a hundred, go buy a pack of gum,
and walk out with $99.50 in change.
Hey, that's brilliant, Archer.
Yeah, plus gum?
So you're gonna do that 10,000 times?
Well, not me personally.
Not anyone personally, it's idiotic.
What we need is a big-ticket item.
Like a big bag of cocaine!
The last thing we need is more cocaine.
Disagree.
Because you are addicted to cocaine!
Your words.
Hey, wait a second. I've got the perfect big-ticket item.
Cadillacs!
Nope. Let me finish.
Oh, I'm sorry, please, skip ahead to the part where I'm out 50 Caddies
with your counterfeit money in the one hand
and my schlong in the other.
Well, not now. You ruined it.
The mental image alone.
And besides, what were you planning to do with 50 Cadillacs?
Um... Open a dealership?
What? Ron's done very well.
Speaking of, why aren't you at work?
Everything's on autopilot. There's nothing for me to do.
I am so bored.
Have you tried cocaine?
No, no, no. Smoked a reefer cigarette once.
Oh, let me guess, with some Negroes?
As luck would have it. What about guns?
No, no, they seemed nice, jazz cats.
No, why don't we buy guns?
I mean, I assume rival drug dealers
aren't gonna be too happy with us...
And since the FBI seized all the ISIS weapons
when they took the building.
Oh, my God. All we have now is my Walther and what, Lana, your TEC-9's?
Yeah, for which I have no ammo. What?
I used to get it from work.
Okay, if we're doing a list?
Bullets. Oh, for...
Sterling, Lana, go through the old ISIS files
and find an arms dealer.
Cyril, go lock up the product before Cokie Monster here
gobbles it all up, and Ron, take me to lunch.
It's 8:30 in the morning.
A bar, then! Whatever!
Ooh! Or maybe a jazz club.
We can smoke reefers with these Negroes you're suddenly so nuts about.
It was 1940!
And where am I supposed to lock up 2,000 pounds of cocaine?
Cyril, look around.
Somewhere in this mansion,
I have to assume, is a gigantic, Scrooge McDuckian vault.
Scrooge McDuck, eh?
Sweater.
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All right. Where are we?
Lana, did you find an arms dealer?
Hmm. No, all we've got so far is Spirodon Skorpio and Conway Stern.
Jeez, those are old files.
One of whom we blew up,
the other of whom's hand we gruesomely ripped off.
And both of whom bring up extremely
uncomfortable sexual memories for,
40% to 60% of the people in this room.
Oh! What about Ray's brother, the pot farmer?
He had lots of guns.
Yeah, he's doing life in prison.
Now, that's the song you should write.
Ugh! Or maybe one about a crippled cyborg,
who all he did was pussy-ache about being a crippled cyborg!
Well, keep looking.
And, Cyril, you've got the product under lock and key?
Yeah, in the kitchen pantry.
There's no Scrooge McDuck-y vault. No what?
Uh, how about an old-timey gymnasium
full of Indian clubs and medicine balls?
Hello?
I've finished!
There is one of those.
Oh, and it was a good idea to lock up all the counterfeit money.
Yeah, good job, whoever did that.
Wait, did you not?
No, I... What?
Well, where the hell is it?
Well...
I've got good news and good news.
Amphetamines?
Right?
And I know it sounds crazy, but I like them as much as cocaine.
Where did you get them?
Okay, okay, okay.
So remember how I used to drift-race with the Yakuza?
The Yakuza?
What, were the Hells Angels busy?
Busy being pussies.
You know, relatively.
When compared to the deadly and terrible Yakuza.
Yeah, and on a related note, Pam,
what do you think's gonna happen
when they realize the money is counterfeit?
Oh, my God, right? Can you imagine?
Yes, Pam, we can.
Oh, my God, they chop off their own fingers.
Do they know how to find you?
Uh...
Well, they know I work at ISIS,
but that won't do them any good.
Well, thank...
Although...
Domo arigato, fellas.
Two of them have been to my apartment.
You, too, Ojiisan.
Or three, or whatever.
Oh, Jesus Christ. Can the mind vomit?
But now I live here, so...
Well, thank God, the...
Although...
Hmm?
Hmm. Hmm-hmm.
Hmm.
Mmm-hmm.
Ugh, yes, the mind can, in fact, vomit.
I'm not here.
Oh, dear God.
Telephone clanging away, and me trapped.
It's a good servant's worst nightmare.
I don't know how this could possibly be any...
Hey, so, did somebody order Chinese?
They're Japanese, you idiot!
Oh, for... I don't get all pissy every time
you mistake a Dutchman for a Swede!
Either time that happened!
Answer the goddamn telephone!
Now, there's your song!
No!
Answer it! Make me!
I will break both of your collarbones,
and then pull them out of your body...
Holy shitsnacks...and then use them to play,
in its entirety and on your head, Moby Dick.
Bonham's a pussy. Maybe you pussy!
Pam?
Hello?
It's Mr. Moto!
I am very ashamed.
Your new home is so beautiful,
but I did not bring a housewarming gift.
Hey, you know what?
Don't even sweat it, because... Hmm?
Okay, bye.
Wait, didn't you shoot that guy?
Oh, who remembers? Well, what did he say?
Well, he's not happy, obviously, and he wants his drugs back,
and that guy who sold them to me
is not gonna be playing the violin any time soon.
Because?
Because a violin would probably dissolve in the same big drum of acid
they dissolved that guy in. Ew!
But if all Moto wants is his drugs...
Then he can give us a refund.
Of worthless counterfeit money?
It's not exactly worthless.
The right buyer would probably pay about 15 cents on the dollar for it.
What? Why didn't you say that?
Uh, I don't know. I assumed you knew.
Everybody knows that.
Ron? I say screw the money.
Let's just give Moto his drugs
and be glad we dodged this giant metaphorical bullet.
Hey, and where are we on that list?
Malory?
Oh, all right!
We obviously can't go to war with the Yakuza.
Uh, not without normal-size, non-metaphorical bullets.
But, Pam, if there ever are any,
this comes out of your share of the profits.
How is that not fair?
Moto doesn't just want the pills!
He also wants my head!
Non-metaph...
...phorically speaking, Pam, we got it.
Wait, he's still gonna kill you?
Even if you give back the pills?
Yes!
Oh. Hey, hey.
Shh. Come on. We're not gonna let the Yakuza kill you.
Although...
Christ on drums, people! What?
Pam screwed the Yakuza out of a million bucks of amphetamines,
so now they're gonna cut her head off.
Wait, since breakfast?
You had breakfast here? Ron!
And apparently, they've got your house completely surrounded, so...
So call the police.
Ooh! Good idea, and when they get here,
we can show them the drugs we bought
with the counterfeit money we got from selling cocaine.
Oh, and by the way, Officer,
there's another 2,000 pounds of it in the pantry!
So, then pay them!
With what?
$1 million! Yes, real dollars. Duh.
Look at my house. I bet I got rugs worth a...
Fine, $2 million. Okay, $5 million.
Fine, $10 million! $50 million!
A jillion million!
Jesus! Be more gross and Chinese-y!
Been waiting forever to use that.
Why did you insult him?
A, "Chinese-y" is not an insult.
No. No, it totally is.
Not to a Chinaman. And B,
which is, like, so un-Chinese-y,
he doesn't even care about money.
He said it's a debt of honor, and it can only be paid with Pam's blood.
And since I can't write a genre-defining country song
with you people screaming about a horde of Chinese daylight vampires,
who are probably scuttling up the drain pipes even as we speak,
go out there and kill them!
Don't even get me started on that.
How about get started on that list?
I'm not your secretary, Lana!
We don't really have weapons or ammo.
You're shitting me.
No.
Whoa! I stand extremely corrected.
Yeah, and they're all loaded.
This was the best house to be a kid in.
Mmm, yeah, and so... Anything post-World War I?
I don't know. I think Grandpapa lost interest
once he filled the Museum of Natural History with dead animals.
Then he got real big into model trains,
and then it was a sort of very long, sad slide into dementia,
and ultimately, into death.
And the whole time
he was screwing the asses off all the colored maids.
No, that's a terrible country song.
Here's your country song right here!
Have you ever heard a country song?
Um, Danger Zone?
Okay, listen up, there are way too many windows and doors to cover,
so we need to concentrate on chokepoints.
Not that kind of chokepoints.
Chokepoints as in junctions, like the main foyer,
the kitchen, the top of the grand staircase, the...
What are you doing? Here.
Nope.
What do you mean, "nope"? Take it!
Woman, I am not getting in a shootout with the goddamn Yakuza
because you people decided to steal their drugs!
Well, I support you in your work!
Not that you ever do any, but...
If you were honest with yourself,
you would realize I have been incredibly supportive of you!
Get arrested for treason, I stand by you,
become a drug dealer, I stand by you.
And you don't seem to mind driving around in a new Cadillac, do you?
A floor model. Oh, for...
Sterling? What in the...
...hell does he think he is doing?
Going Josh Randall on these dicks!
Cheryl, build a fire and get some pokers hot!
Yeah, great, start shooting.
I can't wait to meet every cop in Manhattan.
Right, damn.
Hey, Carol, you got any old-timey silencers?
Silence, yes, aspire to that while I think of a plan.
Okay, Cheryl...
God damn it, Archer!
I didn't do it! I was just...
What... Ron?
Ron!
Talk about a floor model.
Oh, come on, we were all thinking it.
Get down!
Tadashi, what is wrong with you?
You shoot like an old blind woman!
You bring shame on your family!
Oh, my God, the darkness, babe,
I'm slipping into the darkness!
They're just pulling the drapes!
Still, though... Ah!
And what is this? An ocelot pelt?
Wait, what?
It was all I could find!
Oh, my God, if that's Babou...
Ugh, I wish. He's around here somewhere,
either puking or pissing on something I care about.
Hey, so, Ron's gonna die?
Wait, Ron's gonna die?
Oh, the darkness!
Especially if he goes into shock,
which is why I'm speaking quietly.
Smart.
We have to get him to a hospital,
so are you sure there's no other way
out of here besides the front door?
Like, maybe a helicopter pad, or...
The only thing I can think of is all the secret tunnels.
I'm sorry?
Yeah, they go everywhere.
My... I want to say my great-great-great-uncle?
He built them trying to tap into the Underground Railroad.
Wait, did he think it was literally...
A subterranean railroad, yeah, so...
So why'd he build a bunch of tunnels?
To capture runaway slaves and sell them back to their rightful owners.
Wow.
Ugh! Whatever! Can we...
I want to say his plan was to dress like a ghost?
Can we get Ron to a hospital?
Oh, totally.
And then this one here
goes all the way up to Lenox Hill Hospital.
Jesus, that's like a mile!
Yeah, you don't want to walk that.
So I'd come up around here and get a cab.
That'll be way quicker.
Plus, I bet there's mole people.
I think her point was, with all this,
your great-whatever uncle must have really wanted to catch some slaves.
Oh, it bankrupted him, and the crazy part, is this was, like, 1890.
Will you hurry up? We're losing him.
Ron, shut up!
Okay, Carol, you know the tunnels, you lead the group.
Cyril and Pam, you carry Ron.
Lana... Why do I have to carry him?
Because remember before when this whole goddamn thing was your fault?
Just asking.
Lana and Mother, you should go with them, because my plan may not work.
What plan?
Okay, this tunnel here tees into
a utility tunnel right in front of the house.
So...
Sol need my slightly darker, black, black suit.
Woodhouse!
God damn it, where the hell is he?
Slowly dying, for all anyone cares.
But the saddest part is no one does.
Oh, who cares?
Quit your literal bellyaching. Ow, ow, ow, ow!
Yeah, I'm staying.
Because if your plan is what I think it is,
you are totally gonna need rescuing.
No, I'm not, Lana, so shut your dicktrap.
But if I do, I apologize for that remark,
and ask that you definitely do rescue me.
Or avenge me as appropriate.
That's it, I'm staying, too. What?
You're picking him over me?
Oh, for... it's not a competition, Ron! He's my child.
But seriously? A floor model?
Ah... What are you people, hourly? Let's go here.
Are you laughing at "dicktrap"?
But seriously, though, if it comes down to it,
please do rescue me.
Okay!
Sorry! I'm walking backwards here.
God, you're killing me here is what you're doing.
Just try to stay calm.
Yeah, chill out.
Ray got shot in the stomach and he's, like, totally fine.
Here we go, stepping it up! Hey!
Jesus, Ron, man up. I've been shot...
Holy shit, 26 times?
Can't be good for me.
I mean, in gangster movies, they're always like,
"He got a bad case of lead poisoning, see!"
But think about it, every bullet's got to leave at least
a teeny bit of residual lead in your body, right?
Shit. By the time I'm 60, I bet I'll be mad as a goddamn hatter.
I don't believe it. He made it.
You never give him enough credit.
And honestly, not your best trait.
You may want to work on that, since you'll be a mother soon.
Unless, well, I suppose that all depends
on what kind of mother you want to be.
Uh...
The door, san?
Thanks, Kato!
Yoshi!
I'm sorry, Yoshi is indisposed.
You!
Me. Scrooch!
You must know...
Hang on.
Oh, God.
Sorry, I don't want to get a dry socket.
You must know that even if you kill me,
the Yakuza will never forgive this debt of honor.
They will kill...
Right? That's so bad for your ears.
But I get it, the Bushido code, the whole Japanese thing,
I get it, but...
What do you know about being Japanese?
I guess only the cliches, really.
Karaoke, pachinko, subway frottage...
Enough!
Hang on. Uh... Tentacle porn, uh...
Enough! Hang on;
Those vending machines that sell used schoolgirl panties.
Okay, done. Now, here's what I propose.
You dare to propose...
I swear to God I can do that all day.
I mean, to me, it sounds like bubble wrap.
What is your proposal?
I know the Yakuza will hunt us down forever,
but I bet you can forgive the debt of honor, right?
Only if blood has been shed.
Well, my step...
My mother's husband is about a quart low...
You shot him.
So I'm thinking you take back all...
Well, almost all the pills, Pam ate a bunch,
and I'm not gonna lie to you, I had a couple,
or six, plus you keep the counterfeit million.
Plus if you don't, I'll kill you.
Probably should have led with that.
I must accept.
But I cannot lose mentsu. What you call "face."
My men must think this was my decision.
That you somehow "sweetened the deal."
Well, at this point, the reds are wearing off
and the bourbon's kicking in,
so, you can pretty much name it.
Hmm.
That is so true.
That was Cyril.
Ron's in surgery, but the bullet missed everything,
and his prognosis is excellent.
Oh, my God, that's great, so...
So win-win!
What... Win-win? Ow!
Malory. A gut-shot husband
and an idiot son who just gave away $5 million worth of cocaine?
I call that a lose-lose-lose!
What could possibly be funny?
The phone!
It was Wood house's!
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