Palace Intrigue: Part I

(thunder rumbling) (screaming) ARCHER: Goddamn it, Ray. Are you drunk? RAY: No, dumbass, are you? ARCHER: No. LANA: Although not for lack of trying. ARCHER: Exactly, that's my whole point. (retching) CYRIL: Oh, how can you drink rum with all this turbulence? ARCHER: Oh, my God! That's my whole point! MALORY: Enough already! My God, are you people paid by the word? It's bad enough I'm packed into this flying boxcar with you (gasping) without all this incessant bickering. It's like I'm stuck on a school bus with the worst driver on the planet! (Ray muttering) What was that? ARCHER: It is kind of like a school bus. LANA: When have you ever been on a bus? ARCHER: No, from the movies. We've got the whole Breakfast Club in here. I'm Emilio Estevez. Cyril's obviously Anthony Michael Nerd. Mother, you're Paul Gleason. Krieger's the loose cannon, Judd Nelson, and Lana, you're um LANA: Wait, seriously? Molly Ringwald. ALL: Eh LANA: Oh, my God. MALORY: What the hell are you talking about? ARCHER: Mother, hush. Lana, come on, if any of you ISIS women is Molly Ringwald CYRIL: It's obviously Cherlene. KRIEGER: Totally. LANA: What? ARCHER: Yes, she's the rich one, she's a redhead LANA: So, what, you think I'm Ally Sheedy? MALORY: Are you all just saying random words? CYRIL: Ally Sheedy would've been way more likely to get pregnant in high school. KRIEGER: Had there been a sequel. ARCHER: God forbid. KRIEGER: Right? CYRIL: And as for who's the hot one LANA: Wait, what, of us? I'm the hot one! ALL: Eh LANA: Oh, my God. CHERLENE: Oh, get over yourself! (muttering) PAM: Shh! Will you shut up? CHERLENE: Oh, please. She knows we're in here. PAM: She will if you don't shut up. MALORY (sighs): Pam, I know you're in there. PAM: No, we're not. But if we are, which I don't admit to, which Breakfast Clubber am I? ARCHER: Hmm, I guess the janitor everybody thinks is gross but turns out to be cool. PAM: Aw. CHERLENE (laughs): I love that you take that as a compliment. (farts) PAM: So, can we get out of the crate now? MALORY: No, but as it seems we've arrived at a pause in the idiocy, let's recap the plan for when we land in San Marcos. LANA: Yeah, because I'm curious how we tell CalderÃ³n we turned six million dollars' worth of cocaine into one million dollars' worth of weapons. MALORY: That's the CIA's problem. CalderÃ³n doesn't care. It's all gravy to him. ARCHER: Yeah, Lana. I was actually wondering that myself. MALORY: All that matters is that CalderÃ³n pays us for this shipment. Then we use the profits to buy more weapons, which we sell to him to make more profits to buy more weapons. Blah, blah, blah. CYRIL (scoffs): Lana, for God's sakes, it's Econ 101. MALORY: Cyril, don't be shitty. ARCHER: Yeah, Cyril! AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER: Tower to unidentified aircraft, you are now entering restricted San Marcos airspace. Identify yourself. RAY: Uh, guys? ARCHER: Just tell them Slater sent us. LANA: You think that's a good idea, flying into a war zone, telling them we're with the CIA? ARCHER: If Slater even was CIA. MALORY: Now, he's the one who teabagged you? (Pam growls suggestively) ARCHER (scoffs): Beanbagged. MALORY: Oh, whichever. ARCHER: It's a fairly important distinction. LANA: Sorry, can I be a nag for a second? ARCHER: Oh, my God, Lana, I've had only, like, eight drinks. LANA: Okay, not that, but wait, really? ARCHER: Yeah, I've totally cut back, and not that it's any of your beeswax, but I've also cut back on you know. MALORY: On what? Sterling, with you, that could almost literally be anything. ARCHER: Anonymous sex, if you must know. MALORY: Ew! AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER: Beechcraft, please identify. RAY: Guys? LANA: Really? ARCHER: I've totally, relatively cleaned up my act. So maybe keep that in mind when you're choosing godparents. (Lana laughs) LANA: I will, Archer. I really will. AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER: Beechcraft, identify. RAY: Guys! ARCHER: Goddamn it, tell him Slater sent us. LANA: Wait, wait, wait, wait. RAY: Tower, this is Beechcraft. LANA: Ray! RAY: Uh, Slater sent us? (groans) AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER: Beechcraft, you are clear for landing. LANA: Thank you for hearing my concerns. ARCHER: Jesus, will you relax? (gulping) (belches) (groans) (sighs) What's the worst that could happen? (tires squealing) TROOPS: Get on the ground! (indistinct shouting) ARCHER: Don't shoot! Don't shoot! (shouting continues) LANA: Way to go, Gilligan. (gunshot) CALDERÃN: Silencio! Who is in charge here? COMANDANTE: SeÃ±or Presidente, I CALDERÃN: Not you, you baboon-faced baboon. I am obviously talking to these gringos, and also, if I am here, then you are obviously not in charge. COMANDANTE: I (gunshots) (gun clicking) (gunshot) CALDERÃN: And to repeat, who is in charge here? ARCHER: That would be CALDERÃN: Because they are to blame for this shipment of weapons being late. ARCHER: Her, that older woman down there with the more or less permanent scowl. MALORY: SeÃ±or Presidente, it is such an honor to meet you. I'm Malory Archer. CALDERÃN: Wow. MALORY (chuckles): Well, thank you. Anyhoo, hello? CALDERÃN: So, the stories are true. KRIEGER: What stories? I no, not what, huh? Damn it, man, I was sleepwalking. CALDERÃN: Eh? (muttering in agreement) KRIEGER: Hey, what's going on? CYRIL (sighs): Maybe you're their god. (gasps) CALDERÃN: Okay, all but him, arrest. (indistinct talking) MALORY: Without even checking the merchandise? (snapping) (groaning) Although not that particular merchandise. (Pam and Cherlene shouting) (guns clicking) (speaking Spanish) (shouting) (gunshots) CHERLENE: Goddamn it! Who the hell drilled my box?! ARCHER: So, we're just done with phrasing, right? That's not a thing anymore? (gasps) I know, right? CALDERÃN: Cherlene. CHERLENE: What?! ALL: Wait, what?! ARCHER: Yeah, seriously, what? CALDERÃN: "Outlaw Country," "Hoochie Coochie Coochie Man," "Travis County Limitado. " I am I am your biggest fan. Please, we go to the presidential palace? PAM: I'm fine, too, by the way. ARCHER: Oh, great. LANA: That's good. CALDERÃN: Please, come, come. Come, come, come, come, come. ARCHER: So, phrasing's just dead then? LANA: What is your? Wait, are you drunk? ARCHER (scoffs): Please. Off 12 drinks? CALDERÃN: Viva Cherlene! Viva Cherlene! TROOPS (chanting): Cherlene! Cherlene! LANA: Wait a minute, you said eight drinks! (chuckles) ARCHER: I lied. I mean, yes, eight. TROOPS: Cherlene! Cherlene! PAM (laughing): Holy dickballs! I mean, I mean, I mean, just holy. LANA: Dickballs. Yes, Pam, I got it. CALDERÃN: Are you sure? The room is okay? CHERLENE: Yeah, it's fine, whatever. CALDERÃN: I-I cannot believe it is actually you. Here in my palace, I mean CHERLENE: Yeah, it's blowing your mind, huh? CALDERÃN: Boom! (laughing): Yeah. Can I please bring you anything? A freshly squeezed juice, a cocktail, a sandwich of your own choosing? CHERLENE: Don't you, like, have a war to go to? (scoffs) CALDERÃN: It's in the mountains far, far away where we will crush the communist rebel dogs! Especially now that we are once again receiving weapons. MALORY: Yoo-hoo! And about that, I was hoping that you and I could discuss our terms? CALDERÃN: I but Cherlene? MALORY: Is exhausted. As is my drink. (sighs) CYRIL: Why do we always have to share a room? RAY: The sinister gay cabal, Cyril, you have fallen victim to the sinister gay cabal. CYRIL: Okay, you know RAY: I don't know why we always get stuck together. But I kind of don't mind it. CYRIL: Hmm, actually I don't either, now that I think RAY: Queer! (laughs) (rhythmic zipping) (rhythmic shaking) ARCHER: Apache Helicopters We should sell those 'Cause I'm a ropper. (laughs) Ropper Wow, that's awful. But so far, being an international arms dealer is not. I could get extremely used to this. Matt, Joel, hi, shut up. Let's set up lunch with Adnan Khashoggi, I (knocking) (door opens) Whoa, whoa, uh, uh, oh, I ju oh, ah, I just (chuckles) I oh, got a, I got a whoa, ho, ho, ho, oh, ho, ho, oh, no! (metal clanging) (clears throat) Uh, may I help you? MAID: I'm sorry to bother you, sir. ARCHER: No, no, you didn't, aren't, or rather you couldn't, or still haven't, I MAID: I thought you might need more towels. ARCHER: Oh, uh, no. I-I think I'm okay for right now. (buttons popping) Although that being said, it's better to be safe than sorry, at least with regards to towels. (buttons popping) But only towels. KRIEGER: Hey, are there more towels? Hey, are there more towels? Hey, are there more? CYRIL: You realize this isn't a hotel, right? LANA: And even if it were, that is not how you'd go about getting towels! PAM: Who are you, Princess hang on Lana? LANA: Well played. PAM: I've got crate lag. LANA: And where are you going with that? PAM: Ice machine. CIL: Ooh, hey, I could use some ice. KRIEGER: Oh, and if you see a housekeeping cart, can you grab me some towels? PAM: Yep! KRIEGER: You're not going to, are you? PAM: Nope! KRIEGER: Goddamn it. Ha, hee, cold, cold, cold LANA: And there, but for the grace of Hey, get me fizzy water! (Pam farts, laughs) Thanks! MALORY: I'm sorry? CALDERÃN: Tanks? MALORY: For? CALDERÃN: Hmm. Hmm Maybe to start? MALORY: I defer to you? CALDERÃN: Then yes, I think to start. (cork pops) Yes? MALORY: Oh. Yes, please. CALDERÃN: But soon I think more, no? MALORY: Well, I should hope so. Or is that not? CALDERÃN: No, please, of course, I am willing to do whatever it takes. Anything. MALORY: Well, then that makes two of us. CALDERÃN: Wait, really? Anything? MALORY: Yes? CALDERÃN: Gas? MALORY: I'm sorry? CALDERÃN: You have gas? MALORY: Wha? No! CALDERÃN: Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God, sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I thought you MALORY: No! For the No! CALDERÃN: I misunderstood. I apologize. MALORY: And well you should! CALDERÃN: And well I do! Please forgive me. MALORY: I mean PAM: What a frickin' clip joint. KRIEGER: No towels. PAM: No ice machine. (Cherlene screams) CHERLENE: No towel machine?! PAM: Yeah, right? CHERLENE: What is this-- Escape Fro. . ? Wait, are we still in New York, or? CYRIL: What? No, we're in Central America. (gasps) CHERLENE: Oh, my God! We did it! We're free! PAM: Do? CHERLENE: Outlaw different country woooooo! PAM: Sometimes I worry about her. CYRIL: Eh. KRIEGER: Ooh, hang on, maybe this is it. PAM: I don't know. It looks kind of KRIEGER: Ugh, Pam, they can't leave valuable towels and ice just lying around. Hotel profit margins are very thin. (gasps) Oh, oh, oh (muffled yelling) (screams) (all crying) Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me. CYRIL: Krieger? What'd you, see a ghost? PAM: Oh, my God, please say yes. ARCHER: All right, is that happy hour I smell? CALDERÃN: Yes, Mr. Archer. Please join us. Your mother and I are drinking wine that belonged to Benjamin Franklin. MALORY: We are? CALDERÃN: And discussing a shipment of four American tanks. MALORY: Oh, tanks! ARCHER: Thanks. Tanks? MALORY: We do tanks! We can do anything, as long as you're willing to pay. CALDERÃN: Me me pay? MALORY: Good, then it's settled. ARCHER: If you say so, Mother. CALDERÃN: No, no, no, I'm sorry, I-I thought this was why the CIA was buying my cocaine. To sell to the American black people, to make the money to buy the weapons to give me to fight the comunistas. MALORY: Exactly. ARCHER: Wait, what? Why wouldn't they just? MALORY: Sterling, shut up and let me handle this. Because the problem, Gustavo CALDERÃN: Ooh. MALORY: I'm sorry, may I call you Gustavo? CALDERÃN: No. MALORY: The problem, SeÃ±or Presidente, the problem, you see, the problem is is the White House has lost faith in your ability to win this war! CALDERÃN: Ooh. MALORY: And so, if you want any more weapons, you'll have to pay for them in cash. CALDERÃN: Ooh! MALORY: Starting now. CALDERÃN: No, no, but I cannot afford to do this! MALORY: Oh, please. Look at you, drinking Ben Franklin's wine like it's Kool-Aid, surrounded by priceless art Not this one obviously, but CALDERÃN: Oh, no, this one cost 40 millions. MALORY AND ARCHER: What?! CALDERÃN: Yes, it is an Ivan Blitko. So we have, in this area, these very geometric shapes, in these very bold colors here, and then the thick black lines are coming here, always drawing the eye to here, and then, over everything just white. Just layer after layer after layer of pure white. Until you can see nothing of the painting below. Not even with an infrared camera. MALORY: So what's the point? CALDERÃN: The point? What is the point of a beautiful woman? And speaking of! JULIANA (chuckles): Hello, darling. CALDERÃN: My wife. (Archer grunting) (gulps) (burps) MALORY: Sterling! Where are your manners? ARCHER: Probably in my room, so I should go there right now and find them. CALDERÃN: No, no, no, no, no, please stay. Mi amor, may I present to you Sterling Archer, and also his charming mother Malory. JULIANA: Juliana CalderÃ³n. MALORY: A pleasure to meet you, Juliana. JULIANA: Oh. MALORY: I'm sorry, may I call you JULIANA: No. CALDERÃN: Uh, darling, how was your afternoon? JULIANA: Exhausting. ARCHER: Mmm. JULIANA: So hot and sweaty. To be honest, I'm ARCHER: Mmm. really quite sore. CALDERÃN: You see? This is why I disapprove. Juliana sometimes goes among the servants, pretending to be a maid, or working in the laundry, even one time helping to carry some rocks? MALORY: Oh, how JULIANA: Inspiring, really. MALORY: Mmm. CALDERÃN: I was just showing them the Blitko. JULIANA: Do you like what you see, Mr. Archer? ARCHER: You know, so much that I-I'm gonna go write about it in my art journal! CALDERÃN: She is going to bring us some tanks, so that we may crush the rebel dogs. Did they tell you what is for dinner? CYRIL: Clones? KRIEGER: Yes, clones! My God, it was like looking in several mirrors! PAM: Oh, man, oh, man, oh, man, oh, man KRIEGER: Archer! ARCHER: What?! KRIEGER: Ow, ah, hang on gotta stitch oh ARCHER: Damn it, I don't have time for wait, Pam, did you find an ice machine? PAM: Huh-uh. Ow, hang on (groans) ARCHER: Goddamn it PAM: Clones! ARCHER: What? CYRIL: Krieger says-- ow, hold on ARCHER: Goddamn it! CYRIL: Krieger says he saw a bunch of clones! ARCHER: Of what? KRIEGER: Of me! We're running to find them. PAM: Wait, what? I thought we were running away from them! ARCHER: Hang on, shut up, hold that thought. KRIEGER: Guys, come on, let's go! PAM: Not without a bunch of garlic and some wooden stakes. KRIEGER: What? They're clones, not vampires! PAM: It doesn't matter to the stake! KRIEGER: What're you we can't kill them! PAM: Well, not now. We wait till morning and then murder them in their coffins. Cyril? Thoughts? CYRIL: I just really wish I hadn't come on this stupid trip. But since I did KRIEGER: Taaaaanks! You jerks. (muffled scream) (muffled scream) (Lana sighs) LANA: Don't even want to know. ARCHER: Lana! Lana! Oh, my God, you gotta help me! LANA: Oh, for the there is no ice machine! ARCHER: Okay, not that, but A) a palace this big definitely has an ice machine, maybe not in the hall, but it's not like they make ice with trays. B) LANA: "B" is hey, shut up, because I want to talk to you about that thing where you said you're cleaning up your act. ARCHER: Which I'm actually pretty serious about, by the way, but right now I want to talk about this other thing where I just banged CalderÃ³n's wife. Lana? LANA: Uh, hang on. Okay. (clears throat) Why would you do that?! ARCHER: I I'm sorry, do you mean where? LANA: No, Archer, I mean why! What happened to no more anonymous sex? ARCHER: It wasn't anonymous, Lana. I thought she was the maid. LANA: Why would you think that?! ARCHER: I'm sorry, do you mean why? LANA: Wh Yes! Why?! ARCHER: Uniform, towels, the usual maid stuff! LANA: The whoa-whoa-whoa- whoa, back up. What is your definition of anonymous sex? ARCHER: I don't know, bird masks? LANA: What? ARCHER: Or a woman you literally bump into on the train. Or the ferry. Or in a port-a-john at the Preakness that time, but not somebody who works directly for a president, I can tell you that. I mean, we're talking major security clearance, so you got to assume there's a pretty thorough vetting process for that you know LANA: You done? ARCHER: Hang on. Yes? LANA: Okay. So. Here's my advice. (grunts, moans) Do with it as you will. (Archer moans, coughs) (groaning) CHERLENE: Hey, are you going to this dinner? (retches) Or did you already eat crayons? JULIANA: Should we not just start? (clears throat) CALDERÃN: Not until the guest of honor arrives. CHERLENE: Woooooo-hoo! (CalderÃ³n gasps) CALDERÃN: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, come, come, come, come, come, come, because I am pulling out! CHERLENE: Phrasing, boom! ARCHER: Thank you. (moans) LANA: How's the balls? ARCHER: Ruined? I'm pretty sure? CALDERÃN: Okay, you sit there. Uh you. Up. MALORY: I beg your pardon? CALDERÃN: Get up. Come on, move it, up, up, up! MALORY: Well, of all the CALDERÃN: Please, Cherlene. Everyone, raise a glass, and join me to toast Cherlene! Because-- and I happen to know this for a fact-- her debut album has now officially sold one million copies! (Malory shrieks) (others cheering) CYRIL: Yay! CHERLENE: How? It came out, like, yesterday. CALDERÃN: Yes! Amazing! A toast. CHERLENE: No, like literally yesterday. CALDERÃN: And now it is platinum. A toast! CHERLENE: I just don't see how it's possible. (forklift beeping) (many forklifts beeping) CALDERÃN: It doesn't matter how! A toast! PAM: Hear, hear! (murmurs of agreement) CALDERÃN: And also let us not forget my brave soldiers, yes, out there, fighting those rebel dogs, far away! PAM: And plus that one right there. COMANDANTE: SeÃ±or Presidente! The rebels have broken through our lines! They They are now within mortar range! (screaming) CHERLENE: Oh, my God! It's starting! MALORY: What is? CHERLENE: Cherlenemania! LANA: It's a mortar attack! CHERLENE: I know! How frickin' outlaw country is that?! I'll burn it down I'll burn it down to the ground