What?
Ugh, yes I'll accept the charges.
Goddamn, who is it? Cancer?
I think it's Mr. Archer. Hello?
Carol, hey, shut up. I need your help.
And that's how you ask? Wait, Pam? Is that you?
- Yes. - Great, shut up, because I'm talking to Carol,
and Carol, here's the deal-- let me guess. You're all butt-hurt
because Lana hired some Pakistani dude to shoot you,
so you went to Vegas, and now you're drunk and broke outside a casino,
and you want me to wire a thousand dollars
to buy you a plane ticket and a pre-flight whore.
Okay, I'm gonna list everything you just said that's totally wrong. A...
Not outside a casino, so...
Okay, it's gonna sound like I'm hanging up? But--
No. No. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! C'mon, I really need your help.
Okay, where do I send the--
Hang on! Make him beg!
Pam, goddamn it, I said shut up!
You shut up! Jesus, I'm sending you the money for your stupid plane ticket!
Which would be great...
If I were not on the no-fly list.
How did you get on the no-fly list?
Uh...
Help! Get it off!
I wanna fly the plane!
You know, who knows? It's the government. That's not important--
What is important is getting me home.
Ugh, fine, then I'll send money for a stupid train ticket.
Which would also be great...
I wanna fly the train!
Wow, I had no idea there was a "no-train" list.
Well, neither did I,
but apparently there is, and before you ask, the answer is no, Carol.
A thousand times no.
I will not-- I cannot ride the bus.
Wh--? Stop! Goddamn it, I said no!
Simone, I swear to God, I will rub
your own remaining teeth in your eyes!
You ain't got...
So. I don't care what it costs me, financially or self-respectfully,
but I need you to do me a big favor.
Oh, thank you! Thank you, God!
Yay! Right?
Archer, you look like shit.
And--
And obviously thank you, too.
Asmodeus, destroyer of men.
Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com
All I needed was an airplane!
So why is it full of you idiots?
I wasn't going to sit around the office all by myself!
Because one of us needed
some multi-engine time for his pilot's license--
And one of us would go pretty much anywhere to piss off your mother.
Hello. Hello? Son of a...
Fine! Then I'll just get my own ice!
No. I'll drink it neat.
And me and Krieger are all about going to Branson! Booyah!
And I assume Branson is some sort of all-one-cares-to-eat establishment?
You're kidding, right? Say what?
It's only the biggest country music tourist destination in the world!
Wait a minute, is this about Cherlene? Who?
She has no memory of any of that.
Wait, what? You don't remember being the number one country singer in America?
Pfff, okay...
Besides, Branson isn't just country music!
There's Tony Orlando, Charo--
the comedy stylings of Yakov Smirnoff!
How do you not know about Branson?
I guess the same reason I don't know what grits are, or... hush puppies!
Are you serious? Oh, my God.
Hush puppies are little balls of fried cornmeal batter.
Mm. Not really, though.
Well, and also shoes.
Well thank you, Cyril. I was just angry, now I'm confused and angry.
Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.
This is captain Ray Gillette, welcoming you aboard from the flight deck.
Flight time to Branson is about three hours.
No it isn't! Shut up! And in the meantime,
if you look out the left side of the cabin--
you can just make out Nellis Air Force base, home to... Area 51!
Wait, what? Seriously?
Hey, watch it! Ow! Man, I can't see it!
See what? What's Area 51? What's Area--
Are you shitting me? Everybody knows about Area 51!
Yeah, even me, and I didn't even know they made shoes out of cornbread.
It's where the government keeps all the aliens that have crashed on earth.
Well, allegedly, but--
Oh, my God. Cyril, shut up.
Oh, so you believe the United States government
is actually harboring extra-terrestrial life-forms
at an air force base in the Nevada desert.
No. Ray!
Get in closer, I can't see jack dick!
No, this is good.
That airspace is all extremely restricted, so--
- Oh come on, you pussy! - For the love of God, man!
Well, maybe a little closer.
Whoa, hang on, what're you doing?
And what are you wearing?
It was in the crew locker. I think it looks pretty sharp.
- Really? - Ray, get closer!
- Pam, shut up! - Make her!
- Look, Ray, I know you don't do well with peer pressure-- - Wha-a-a-aa?
Teacup pig. Oh. Yeah.
And how big was Li'l Hamlet when you finally had to get rid of him?
He was up there. Yeah.
Like three hundred shit-covered pounds.
But seriously, Ray. Don't dick around with the air force.
That's a top-secret base down there and they've got surface-to-air missiles, so--
Ray! Pam!
Ray? Krieger!
Ra-ay!
What? God-- Damn it!
What? That.
Goddamn it. Everybody hang on!
God damn it!
I said, hang on.
Ya know...
Jesus Christ, Ray, do something!
Besides fly the goddamn plane?
Oh, you're already-- sorry, I didn't know what the deal was, if you--
I think I can land it! But I gotta... put it down... at Nellis!
Where the missiles are coming from? It's either that or frickin' crash!
Okay, sorry, just making sure there's not a third option we haven't--
Get out!
Are we gonna die?
Not today, gorgeous, not today.
I mean, probably today, but--
Krieger! Everybody! Calm down!
Ray says he can land us at Nellis!
You mean right at Area 51?
Yes, Pam! Happy?
I mean... yes?
But who needs ice?
It's perfectly fine without ice.
Just ask Europe. Lana?
No?
Come in dear, what're you doing? Come in here.
Hello!
Hello dear, drink? Uh, no?
Well, you're not missing much.
No ice. Not a cube.
And I can't wait to hear her flimsy excuse this time.
Get out the plane! Put your hands up!
Get out of the plane now! Let's go, let's move!
Wow, those guys look... furious.
Yeah, no shit! So thank you, Ray!
For what, safely landing the plane?
What, like that cancels out getting it shot down in the first place?
You were the one yapping your damn head off about my damn teacup pig!
Who I hope to see on my next BLT!
Well too bad, because he... went to... live on a...
A farm! Exactly!
So unless that farm had a magical talking spider--
Yeah, they don't keep 'em around for their milk.
And I don't know that we're accomplishing as much as we could be right now.
Hmm. How about now?
Oh my God, I bet it's nerve gas!
Just like they sprayed on Duddy Kravitz in "Close Encounters"!
Wait, what? It's not nerve gas, you idiots, it's--
You think the CIA's above nerve gas?
I-- holy shit, that's right, it's the CIA! I've got Q-clearance!
Wait, what? What does that even mean?
It means get naked.
C'mon, let's go. Gun's out, buns out.
Don't shoot! Hands up, everybody!
We're coming out! Don't shoot!
Do not shoot!
Guys, it's okay, I--
He's got a weapon! He's got a weapon! Gun!
Q-clearance! I've got Q-clearance!
Seriously, is that even a real thing?
Q-clearance? We'll see about that.
What's your authentication phrase?
Sweet dash forty-four, tender dash nine, hot dash juicy pork chops!
I didn't pick it.
Authentication checks out, sir. Says here he's Agent Slater.
Hmph! Well, Agent Slater!
What? Who? Agent Slater.
Shut up. How'd you get Slater's codeword?
You mind telling me why in God's green dick you were in my airspace?
Well, our airspace, for starters, right?
Since I have CIA clearance and all.
And not that it's any of your business, lieutenant...
Colonel. Lieutenant Colonel, but during transport of these prisoners--
black site, pretty icky stuff.
They attempted to overpower me, forcing my pilot to make an emergency landing,
but before he could radio your tower for permission to land, boom!
And then-- well, you know the rest.
Is this true?
Uh-- He's Israeli! So, just Hebrew. Unless...
Reds Yiddish? Nisht?
So no, just Hebrew.
Then how was he gonna radio the tower?
Which, I mean-- yeah, exactly, and if I spoke Hebrew I would ask him.
- Well-- - R-right after I ask your wife and kids about you,
but they don't know, they haven't seen you in a year.
They think you ran off with a stripper,
when in reality you are literally climbing the walls
of a farmhouse in Virginia somewhere, out of your mind on LSD,
compliments of the CIA and MK-Ultra. Jesus Christ...
So while you're finding me a new airplane, Air Force guy,
we're gonna need some sort of shuttle to...
I assume you have an officer's club? Yep.
Jeeps! Gimme two jeeps up here, on the double! Jeeps, goddamn it, jeeps!
Shisn tsvey hozn mit eyn shos.
I'm sorry?
You're sure you don't want a drink?
Yeah, in the... low nineties on that.
Suit yourself. So. And how is our little Abbiejean?
Oh, yeah she's good, great actually,
and I'm really liking her nanny.
Mm. Hispanic?
She's actually Polish.
Is that supposed to be better?
What? No. They're both--
Abbiejean. That's from where, again?
Again, it was my grandmother's name.
Hmm. You know what I think would be wonderful?
A border moat? ...Is if she had her grandmother's name.
Well yeah, and obviously I talked to my mother of god, you mean you.
Thoughts?
Because they don't have my brands, I don't even recognize most of these.
Well, maybe instead of worrying about what cocktails to make--
That's what I'm saying, Cyril. I don't even know if I can make cocktails!
What the hell's the air force spending all those kajillions of dollars on?
O'Dublin tequila? I mean vodka, maybe.
They obviously know their way around a potato, but--
My point... is maybe you should worry about what's gonna happen to us
when they find out you're not Slater!
Cyril, I should worry about all kinds of shit.
But you know what they say about stress.
C'mon, anybody?
Exactly, the silent killer.
What? What is wrong with you?
Jesus, use your talking words! Just slap her.
Ho, ho, ho, holy shitsnacks!
Did you guys see that?
What are you talking about?
It was, it-it-it-- Just slap him.
C'mon!
Uhh! Where are you going?
Oh! Goddamn it. Ya think?
Yeah, it's worse than I thought.
We might even have to use sour mix.
I am talking about Pam and Krieger running around
a top secret military installation in their underwear!
When they're supposed to be prisoners!
Yeah that's no good, huh? They'll probably shoot them on sight.
Well?
Well what, Cyril? Yes, obviously I'm gonna go after them...
So just calm down, do something with your hands. Cut some limes.
Security breach, sector nine.
No, but seriously, Cyril. Cut some limes.
Like, six.
Security breach. Sector nine.
You think that's for us? I don't know. What sector is this?
What am I, this map?
Oh wait. Aw crap, this is totally nine!
Eh, could be a coincidence. Yeah, like just a fire drill.
Although it's probably because they found that poor kid you clobbered.
You don't think I killed him, do ya? What am I, a doctor?
Ouch.
So, guess Pam came through here. Jesus, it's like tracking a bear.
Wait, you're breathing though, right?
Attaboy, shake it off. Bet you probably just have brain--
Freeze!
Hey, guys. Drop it! I said drop it!
It was empty anyway.
The weapon! Drop the weapon!
What, on the floor? Are you serious?
So hey, you may not know this, since I assume you get yours for free,
but guns are actually pretty expensive--
I'm gonna count to three!
Look, count to whatever you want.
A hundred thousand. Mm-hm.
Dollars. Mm.
To name my kid after you?
I think it's quite generous.
I think it's quite batshit insane!
Well, I-- and Ron can afford it and--
I'm not selling you the naming rights, Malory!
She's not a frickin' bowl game!
Oh... now...
I mean, if it means that much to you--
I guess maybe Malory could be her... middle name?
Really? Yes.
Well, obviously that's not worth a hundred thousand dollars, but--
Fifty? Pff!
22.5, and I want a notarized copy of the revised birth certificate
on my desk by Friday.
I-- Oh, and christen her in a white church,
and I'll kick in five more. Wow.
Real life E.T.'s! My God, I hope we find them. I have so many questions!
Pff, like what, how to build a better anal probe?
Right? I bet their anal technology is light-years ahead of mine.
A light-year's a unit of length, dipshit.
Well, whatever then... Parsecs.
Length. I-- hey ya know what?
I know how far light travels in vacuum in a Julian year.
Ooooh!
Very good, Pamela.
I, that, my, I-- you know my name?
Yes, Pamela. And yours, Algernop.
But, but, but-but but-but-- English?
Yeah, head. Head.
Pam! I think he means telepathy.
Holy shit, like in scanners?
No.
No no no, wait! I have Q-clearance!
Bullshit. Firing in three! Two!
No! Stop it! Look, I'm serious. Just radio Lieutenant Colonel.
He can straighten this whole thing out!
Lieutenant Colonel who? What?
Lieutenant Colonel who.
Oh, my God!
Wow, all right, this is pretty embarrassing.
I thought that guy was a lieutenant,
and that his last name was Colonel.
In three! Two! Wait!
Goddamn it, look, I was just trying to get home from Vegas.
So okay, here, you can have my weapon.
But I do have some conditions.
Uh, what conditions?
Well... you're not gonna like 'em.
Whew!
And not to knock the air force, but...
good thing you guys have airplanes.
I got a cousin in the Air Force.
Brian. I should give him a call.
Should we, uh...
Guys, I really feel like we should be doing something.
- Ugh, we are... - C'mon, nothing by the drifters?
The tams? The dominoes? The embers? They call this "Classic Rock."
Pff, what is this, Myrtle Beach?
Ray. Is this Myrtle Beach? No.
And that, my dear earthlings,
is the key to understanding the entire universe.
Well, at least as we understand it.
Yes.
Ta-take us... with you!
I will, if you shut up!
What the hell, Krieger, did you shove your dick in a socket?
Did-did-- ow!
Krieger, I am in no mood. Now, get dressed.
Ugh, seriously?
Yes, seriously. We're gonna walk out of this building,
into a hangar, and steal an Air Force plane!
And while we're doing that, I could do with a whole lot less shit from you,
Since all I wanted was a ride home!
On my private jet. Wh--? Yes!
Can, can-can we talk for a second? About what happened?
Uh, is that before or after Krieger sexually assaulted a two-twenty outlet?
"Area 51".
No! You guys! I swear, they were--
Pam! Seriously, get your shit together.
We have to go steal a plane from the United States Air Force.
Which...
not as hard as I would've thought.
Ray! Wie geht's?
Pff, darf min gehn in kolledj?
Yeah? You guys good? If you want a drink, just-- wh--?
Because it's just de-icing fluid and Tang.
Tell me! Tell me you saw them!
I-- Pam, I saw a blinding white flash, that's it. No E.T., no Alf...
B-but you believe me, don't you?
You believe I'm telling the truth!
Pam, the truth is out there.
So you do believe me?
No! You stupid idiot!
Alrighty then! I think I'm sufficiently drunk enough, so...
so who's up for Branson?
Realsies, realsies? Yeah!
This thing have bombs on it?
Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com
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