MAN: Lemme go!
You have no jurisdiction over me!
I'm a Canadian citizen!
LANA: Yeah, and we're taking you to Canada, so-- BILCOE: Help!
Help!
Extraordinary rendition!
LANA: (weary sigh)
Light him up, newbie.
CYRIL: Sorry in advance.
BILCOE: Owww!
That hurts like, insanely bad.
CYRIL: That's why I said sorry in advance LANA: And you have to have to
stop yelling "extraordinary rendition."
A, nobody cares.
And -- MALORY: Be careful!
You big lummox!
I swear to God, if you scuff my bags... GEORGE: Oh,
I wouldn't dream of it, ma'am.
MALORY: And I can do without the sarcasm.
GEORGE: Oh, no ma'am, that wasn't -- MALORY: Enough!
With the backchat!
Ugh, Lana, maybe you can talk to him.
LANA: Um?!
MALORY: So this is the infamous Kenny Bilcoe?
You don't look like much of a terrorist... BILCOE: That's because I'm a
freedom fighter!
For a free and sovereign Nova Scotia!
LANA: Is that why you blew up a donut shop?
BILCOE: Allegedly!
If you believe Canada's illegitimate, so-called "government!"
CYRIL: I'm pretty sure we do... MALORY: Which is why we're taking
you back to Ottawa.
And once we do, hopefully the Mounties will start sending us all kinds of
lucrative work.
LANA: How noble.
PAM: Speaking of work, can I put what I just assume is
your rock collection on the stupid train?
MALORY: Yes, the -- nooope!
Nice try, Pam.
PAM: What?
BILCOE: The what?
PAM: Okay, no biggie.
Have a nice trip.
MALORY: I -- wait a minute.
LANA: What now?
MALORY: Too easy.
Pam's up to something.
CONDUCTOR: Booooarrrd!
CYRIL: Well, I doubt she'll make it on now... LANA: Ditto for Archer.
MALORY: Wh-?
He's not here?
LANA: Mmmmmm... nope.
GEORGE: Need to get these bags on, ma'am.
MALORY: I heard him!
George!
LANA: Malory, don't call him that... GEORGE: My name actually is George.
LANA: Really?
MALORY: Dammit, I told Sterling six o'clock!
ARCHER: I thought you meant six a.m.!
MALORY: No, six -- Sterling are you drunk?
ARCHER: Winnerrrr!
BILCOE: Nice.
LANA: Archer... MALORY: You knew we were transporting a dangerous
terrorist to Canada!
So how and why are you drunk at six o'clock?
ARCHER: Well the how's pretty self-explanatory, and the why is because, hic,
I thought we were leaving at six a.m.
tomorrow.
Ergo, Latin, plenty of time to sleep it off.
MALORY: [annoyed sigh]
LANA: Well drink some coffee, because there's a good chance
Bilcoe's terrorist pals -- BILCOE: Alleged terrorist pals!
LANA: -- are going to attack the train at some point,
and try to bust him loose.
ARCHER: Awesome!
BILCOE: Right?
MALORY: I'm sorry, how is that "awesome?"
ARCHER: Because, hic, pretty much my whole life I've
wanted to fight some guys on the roof of a speeding train.
BILCOE: Well if I know my boys, you may just get your wish, big guy.
ARCHER: Thanks, Freddy Foreshadowing.
ARCHER: Who is this?
EVERYBODY: [annoyed sigh]
ARCHER: Please tell me he's a renowned chicken-and-waffle chef.
Because I am starving.
Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com
BILCOE: So listen, you look like a pretty smart guy... CYRIL: Well thanks,
I like to think so... BILCOE: So why dontcha do yourself a pretty-smart-guy
favor and just let me go?
CYRIL: Uh, because Ms. Archer would kill me?
BILCOE: Well what do ya think's gonna happen when my boys storm this train?
CYRIL: Oh, I'm not too worried about that.
BILCOE: Ya should be.
My boys are bad ass.
CYRIL: Well, so am -- Lana.
And I'm learning.
Oh, and don't forget about Archer.
BILCOE: The drunk guy?
CYRIL: He may have seemed drunk, but he's-- LANA: Still drinking?
ARCHER: Relax, Lana it's just a bloody mary.
And by the way, not a great one.
Mr. Vodka and Ketchup.
LANA: Archer, at any time in the next twelve hours this train could be
attacked by radical Nova Scotian separatists.
ARCHER: (chuckling) Armed with what?
Pamphlets about Canada's responsible gun control laws?
LANA: (annoyed sigh) The New Scotland Front has guns,
and they're not afraid to use them, so -- ARCHER: So okay!
God, I'll switch to coffee.
(to bartender) Hey Heinz 56, can I get an Irish coffee.
LANA: No!
ARCHER: Lana, I have to taper off.
Trust me, if these Noma Scojens are a real threat, you do not want me hungover.
LANA: Do you even still get hangovers?
ARCHER: Normally no, but I drank about two gallons of
mamajuana this afternoon.
I was playing dominoes with a, Dominican bike gang, or was it Mahjong.
I don't remember.
MALORY: (O.S.) Ridiculous!
MALORY: This thing's a sardine can.
How are people supposed to travel like this?
GEORGE: Most people bring less luggage.
MALORY: Most people fly.
So your days of sullen superiority are numbered.
GEORGE: I have no response to that.
MALORY: They never do.
Now let's go find a bigger compartment.
GEORGE: I'm afraid there aren't any.
MALORY: Nonsense, I'm sure there's one here somewhere.
Why are these all locked?
GEORGE: They're occupied.
So if you don't mind -- MALORY: What I mind is your familiar tone, young man.
What's through here?
GEORGE: Those are private cars, ma'am.
MALORY: What do you mean, "private?"
GEORGE: I mean they're not -- Not for you to be knocking on!
Now I have to insist that you -- PAM: Get yer panties untwisted!
Damn... MALORY: Wh-?
I knew it!
I want this train stopped immediately and this stowaway forcibly disembarked!
GEORGE: Afraid I can't do that, ma'am.
MALORY: You can and you will, or I'll have your job!
CHERYL/CAROL: No, she won't, George!
MALORY: Carol?
MALORY: What are you doing here?
CHERYL/CAROL: Uh, trying to perform my ablutions?
MALORY: But -- GEORGE: This is Miss Tunt's private car.
MALORY: How do you have a private train car?
PAM: Uh, cause she owns the railroad?
CHERYL/CAROL: Well, half.
And I knew you wouldn't let us go on this stupid trip to Canada, so I had my
cars hooked up.
MALORY: Cars?
Plural?
CHERYL/CAROL: This car, two sleeping cars, a private dining car,
and one that's just a teeny tiny skating rink.
MALORY: Er, two sleeping cars?
Do you think there might be room for -- GILLETTE: Nooope.
GILLETTE: It's already cramped back there, what with that piss-reeking ocelot.
CHERYL/CAROL: Plus George says you stiffed him.
MALORY: Wh-?
No I didn't, I gave him a tip!
GEORGE: A stick of gum?
MALORY: Well?
PAM: Really?
GILLETTE: Did you not have a button?
MALORY: You button it, missy!
CHERYL/CAROL: Oh we don't know the meaning of private, lets all pile in.
ARCHER: Lana check it out!
Actual gas lamps!
LANA: Amazing, Archer, yes, so you think we can go guard the
prisoner now, or -- RROWR!
ARCHER: Is that Babou?
LANA: Or not.
Apparently.
Okay -- CYRIL: Wowww!
ARCHER: (O.S.) Lana!
LANA: Cyril!
CHERYL/CAROL: Jesus!
ARCHER: (O.S.) Lana!
LANA: Cyril - PAM: And Pam.
ARCHER: (O.S.) Lanaaaaa!
LANA: What?
ARCHER: (O.S.) He remembers me!
LANA: Cyril, why are you in here?
CYRIL: I didn't know where you guys were.
LANA: It doesn't matter where we are, Newb Gingrich --
CHERYL/CAROL: Then get out!
LANA: -- where's the prisoner?
CYRIL: In my compartment.
CYRIL: At least, he was... CYRIL: Although he doesn't seem to be in here now.
LANA: No kidding.
CYRIL: Mmmmmm... nope.
ARCHER(O.S.) Lana!
Cyril!
Oh my God... LANA: Too late, he's gone.
Thanks to Cyril.
ARCHER: Well he's not gonna jump off a train going eighty miles an hour, so --
LANA: So, yeah.
We'll sweep car by car, moving from front to back.
ARCHER: Good, you guys do that, I'll get a big raw steak from the kitchen.
LANA: (weary sigh) Are you talking about the ocelot?
ARCHER: Are you not?
LANA: I'm talking about the prisoner!
ARCHER: Oh. Well, maybe they're together.
Although I doubt it, Babou's kind of a loner.
Like Paul Newman in Hud.
If Paul Newman had constantly sprayed piss all over, um... oh what was her...
(snaps fingers) Patricia Neal!
Who I hate.
LANA: Sorry for the intrusion, folks.
Nothing to worry about, just some standard, um...train security.
LANA: Okay, that's all the regular cars.
Now we get to search all the sleeper cars, thanks to your incompetence.
CYRIL: Well you left me unsupervised.
LANA: So this is my fault?
CYRIL: Mmm, fifty-fifty?
LANA: Fifty-fifty you accidentally shoot somebody, Newb.
Now come on, it'll take us all night to search this damn train.
CYRIL: Well, but with Archer helping... LANA: I wouldn't exactly call it helping.
ARCHER: (O.S.) Here kitty kitty kitty.
Kitty?
ARCHER: Excuse me, is there an ocelot in there?
GEORGE: No no no, what're you doing?
Besides making a ms all over my train?
ARCHER: Looking for a terrorist and an ocelot-- GEORGE: What?
ARCHER: -- not necessarily in that order.
GEORGE: Okay that's it, we're stopping.
Frank, this is George, we gotta... ARCHER: Give me that!
He's gotta keep the train at top speed so they can't get off.
So tell him to keep it floored.
GEORGE: I will do no such thing.
ARCHER: Okay then here, hold this?
GEORGE: Why are you giving me a -- oh my!
ARCHER: Sorry, but I'm not letting a terrorist escape.
And obviously an ocelot wouldn't survive in the frozen wasteland
of upstate New York.
So.
GEORGE: Sorry Frank, uh, Miss Tunt says she wants to beat
the record run to Ottawa.
ENGINEER: (annoyed sigh)
Those crazy Tunts.
Okay, hang on... [GUNSHOT]
BILCOE: Jesus!
Boys, hang on a sec... BILCOE: Okay boys, make sure you bring the heavy
stuff, cause these crazy ISIS bastards aren't playing...
BILCOE: They just killed a black guy.
I know, right?
Welcome to America.
MALORY: How is that racist?
LANA: Never mind, look -- MALORY: I treat all servants exactly the same,
regardless of their race.
LANA: Hang on, I hear freedom ringing.
MALORY: At worst I'm elitist.
But not racist.
LANA: Whatever.
Cyril and I searched the front half of the train, but we didn't see any sign of
Bilcoe, okay so -- MALORY: I bet it's hard to see
anything from that high horse... LANA: So.
Unless Archer found Bilcoe in the back half of the train... ARCHER: Which, no,
he didn't.
CYRIL: Jeezy Petes!
LANA: Archer!
MALORY: Is that blood?
ARCHER: What?
(looks down) Oh.
Yeah, but it's from a cow.
CYRIL: You shot a cow?
ARCHER: And Bilcoe's not in the back half, so you guys must've missed him.
LANA: Which, no, we didn't.
ARCHER: Which, yes, obviously you did -- LANA: Or you did.
ARCHER: Or you did.
Because there's no way he got off, we're moving too fast.
CHERYL/CAROL: Oh my God we totally are!
We might beat the record run!
You guys probably don't understand because don't own a railroad?
But it's actually a pretty huge deal.
LANA: To whom?
Railroad owners?
CHERYL/CAROL: We're a pretty competitive bunch.
GILLETTE: No, Pam!
No means no, now stop it!
PAM: Whatsa matter?
Ya chicken?
GILLETTE: I'm in a wheelchair!
Ow!
PAM: Bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk!
GILLETTE: Ow!
Goddammit Pam I don't wanna race!
PAM: Couple skate?
ARCHER: I can't believe you have a skating rink train car.
CHERYL/CAROL: Yeah, apparently my great-grampa was nuts for skating.
That and the Klan.
LANA: I -- okay, so let's try this again.
Car by car, this time back to front.
MALORY: Good, because Miss Stingy here won't let me eat in her private dining car--
CHERYL/CAROL: Oh my God we've been over thaaaat...
MALORY: -- so when you pass the dining car, have a porter bring me a Cobb
salad.
LANA: Before or after we locate the dangerous terrorist?
MALORY: Before.
ARCHER: Sorry folks, uh, go back to sleep.
LANA: (low, fake cheery) Yeah, just disregard the gun-toting
spies and the blood smeared everywhere.
ARCHER: Oh yeah, keep an eye out for pawprints.
LANA: Where, in the blood?
ARCHER: Yeah, I assume at some point he'll come out to like... lick it.
LANA: (annoyed sigh) Come on, we've only searched two cars,
so we've got a shitload to go.
CYRIL: Uh, speaking of, I need to make use of the facilities here...
LANA: Fine, but catch up, okay.
And pay attention.
ARCHER: Yeah, they look just like prints from a housecat,
only bigger and awesomer.
LANA: Go.
BILCOE: Hey, welcome to the bathroom.
CYRIL: Well, thank you.
No, no, wait, what're you - [FIGHTING SOUNDS]
CYRIL: Ungh!
BILCOE: I can tell you never played much hockey, huh?
Probably too busy runnin around shootin black guys.
BILCOE: What's the word, boys?
Fantastic!
They'll never see that coming!
I'll see ya at the border!
LANA: Archer, we don't have time for this.
ARCHER: It'll take like, two seconds!
God!
Okay so, a Cobb salad... GEORGE: I am not taking that woman a salad,
Cobb or otherwise.
ARCHER: George, trust me, you don't want to see my mother with low blood sug --
ARCHER: Wait, why are we slowing down?
GEORGE: We're at the border.
ARCHER: Of?
GEORGE: Uh, this new place, called Canada?
ARCHER: So?
GEORGE: So, customs, passport control, immigration?
You know, the border?
ARCHER: Yeah, but... with America.
LANA: They still guard the border!
ARCHER: Lana, we're going into Canada!
LANA: Okay, can you please explain to him-- ARCHER: Don't do that.
LANA: Okay, already knowing your answer, I'm going to ask, "Don't do what."
ARCHER: Make this a weird racial thing.
LANA: I knew, and yet I asked... ARCHER: What, I just don't wanna be ganged up
on!
George, back me up here.
GEORGE: I'm gonna back way up, and not be in here when the
mounties catch you crazy people with all those guns.
LANA: Oh, shit.
ARCHER: What, they're Canadian, they don't even know what a gun -- oh, shit!
LANA: He said, realizing that -- ARCHER: That what's the perfect
disguise for some terrorists who want to board a train to bust
loose another terrorist?
LANA: Oh, shit!
The -- MOUNTIE ONE: Royal Canadian Mounted Police, folks.
Please have your passports and declarations forms out and ready.
ARCHER: Ready?
LANA: Yeah, but what if they're like, actual real mounties?
ARCHER: Well, not to belabor the point, but they'd still be Canadian.
i.e., I doubt we're in any real danger.
LANA: Okay, here goes... [GUNS COCKING]
LANA: Freeze!
Hands up!
Get 'em up!
MOUNTIES: [Murmuring]
LANA: I swear to God if any of you Canadian fruitcakes move I
will shoot that stupid hat right off your head.
MOUNTIE ONE: That, that's not okay.
ARCHER: Get 'em up Dudley Douchebags!
MOUNTIE ONE: Maintain the right, boys.
ARCHER: Whoa, dude, we're serious, we'll shh -- [GUNS FIRING, GLASS BREAKING]
ARCHER: -- iiiiiiit!
LANA: God damn it, Archer!
ARCHER: What, Lana?
LANA: You are so!
Stupid!
Thinking terrorists would be disguised as -- MOUNTIE TWO: Royal Canadian Mounted Police!
MOUNTIE ONE: Stand down, boys!
We're mounties!
MOUNTIE TWO: Piss off!
We're mounties!
MOUNTIE ONE: Great, good, we're all mounties, so no need for a Mexican
standoff, eh?
ARCHER: Oh yah, hooz aboota co-opt s'moor American stoof there, eh, Cahnada?
LANA: Stuff like Mexican standoff?
ARCHER: Oh, look at that, the race card... LANA: Wh-?
MOUNTIE TWO: Let's all just put down the guns, boys!
C'mon, we're not Americans!
RRROWR!
MOUNTIE ONE: Unvaccinated animal!
Put him down, boys!
ARCHER: No!
Serpentine, Babou!
RROWR!
MOUNTIE TWO: Aw jeez, he sprayed me!
That reeks!
ARCHER: (O.S.) Did he get away?
MOUNTIE TWO: Ya, ugh, he ran right oat past us!
ARCHER: Good.
Then screw this.
LANA: Please tell me that's a smoke grenade.
ARCHER: Okay.
It's not, though.
[EXPLOSION]
ARCHER: (coughs, then laughing)
Hoh-lee -- PAM: -- shitsnacks!
What was that?
MALORY: Probably my stomach growling.
I am literally starving to death.
CHERYL/CAROL: I don't care, Frank!
We are gonna beat that record, so put this stupid train in...
train-gear, and jam it!
Rrgh!
I'm surrounded by mediocrity... LANA: In what way?
In what possible way did that work?
ARCHER: Umm A, they're all incapacitated... ARCHER: And B,
I got to blow up a train.
LANA: Well thanks, Gomez -- ARCHER: Nice.
LANA: But that doesn't help us find Bilcoe!
ARCHER: He's right there, stupid.
LANA: Wh-?
BILCOE: Jesus boys, what happened?
ARCHER: I happened.
Drop it, Bilcoe.
BILCOE: You drop it, ya racist bastard!
[GUN FIRING]
ARCHER: Gagh!
Oww!
Wait, how am I a racist?
LANA: Really?
ARCHER: Shut up and come on and shut up!
LANA: Wait, we don't know which Mounties are the real ones!
What do we do?
LANA: Archer!
ARCHER: I'm kidding!
Jesus... Hey, good guys and bad guys!
All of you just got a pretty huge pass, so don't make me regret it later!
Deal?
CHERYL/CAROL: [bloodcurdling scream]
LANA: Come on!
ARCHER: I'm taking that as tacit agreement!
LANA: Cyril, what the hell are you doing?
CYRIL: Being blind!
Oh my God, I'm blind!
LANA: Sweater!
CYRIL: Huh?
Oh.
ARCHER: When will you not suck at this?
CYRIL: When you don't suck at... shut up!
EVERYBODY: [Murmuring]
MALORY: Go ahead shoot me.
It's better than starving to death.
BILCOE: Everybody shut up!
And then somebody get over here to be my hostage!
PAM: Oh for -- way to man up, Ray!
GILLETTE: Wh-?
I'm in a wheelchair!
BILCOE: Yeah, no offense but we're gonna be, ya know, running around and stuff?
ARCHER: Uh, no!
You're not!
BILCOE: Uh, yeah!
I am!
[GUN FIRING]
EVERYBODY: [Murmuring]
ARCHER: Everybody okay?
PAM: Yeah, I think so.
GILETTE: Yeah.
Paralyzed, but other than that, fine. Yeah.
ARCHER: Okay, then Lana, you guard them... CYRIL: Okay, what's the plan.
ARCHER: And Cyril, you keep sliding down the learning curve like the Banana Splits.
LANA: And what are you gonna do?
[FOOTSTEPS ON ROOF OF TRAIN]
ARCHER: I am going to fulfill my lifelong dream.
MALORY: Meeting Mr. Greenjeans?
BILCOE: Snap out of it, boys!
ARCHER: Bilcohhhhhh!
BILCOE: I could use some help on the roof!
ARCHER: Oh my God, this is gonna be awwshiiiit!
ARCHER: Owww!
The dust!
It's like being shot in the eyes by a... glittergun!
ARCHER: There, that oughta do it.
Okay, let's try that agawwwshiit!
ARCHER: Retinas!
Seared, like tuna steaks!
All I want is to fight on top of a train!
Is that too much to ask?
ARCHER: The good news, is now I'm furious.
BILCOE: So, rethinking this, huh?
On top of the train you're still like, on the train,
plus you got all -- oh shit!
BILCOE: Plus you got all that.
ARCHER: Oh shit. Whyyyyyyyyy-- -- do people do this?
You're still just on the train.
BILCOE: I know, right?
Although, I guess sometimes there's a helicopter?
ARCHER: Do you have a helicopter?
BILCOE: Mmmmmm... nope.
Just a gun.
ARCHER: It's empty, dickhead.
BILCOE: Yeah nice try, super-dickhead.
[PULLING TRIGGER OF EMPTY GUN]
BILCOE: What the...?
ARCHER: You fired eight rounds, ultradickhead.
Am I the only person who ever keeps track of that, -- oww!
ARCHER: Wow, and I thought I was mad before... BILCOE: Why,
didja see some old black lady sittin in the front of a bus?
ARCHER: What is your deal with calling me a racist?
BILCOE: Well A, you're American -- ARCHER: That's, oh shit, racists
jingoist, whatever!
BILCOE: And B, you murdered the porter!
ARCHER: Wh-?
No I didn't!
BILCOE: You shot him!
There was blood everywhere!
ARCHER: That was from a steak, you idiot!
I was trying to catch an ocelot!
BILCOE: In Canada?
And I'm the idiot?
MOUNTIE ONE: Hold it right there, boys!
MOUNTIE TWO: Royal Canadian Mounted Police!
ARCHER: Dammit, who are the real ones?
BILCOE: Guess that's for me to know and you to find out.
ARCHER: Well I'm gonna find out in like five -- RRROWR!
ARCHER: Babou!
MOUNTIES: [Murmuring]
MOUNTIE ONE: He's corpuscular!
Get him, boys!
ARCHER: Nooooo!
[GUNS FIRING]
ARCHER: Babou, serpentiiiiiiine!
CYRIL: Yeah, so... LANA: So yeah, put that in your little secret
agent notebook, along with "don't leave prisoners unsupervised."
There's absolutely no reason to ever get on top of a moving train.
CYRIL: Wait, what if there's a helicopter?
LANA: Ooh, yeah, or a dragon!
CYRIL: Ooh, yeah, or some sarcasm!
LANA: Ooh, yeah, or hang on!
CYRIL: What?
Waaaaagh!
EVERYBODY: [screaming]
ARCHER: Aaaaaa... ungh!
Babooooo!
ARCHER: That's right, buddy, I goww oww oww oww oww, Babou no!
Owww!
RRROWWRR!
LANA: Oh come on, I wouldn't say it was a complete failure...
MALORY: Oh, really?
And what parts of this mission would you call a success?
CHERYL/CAROL: Well, let's see... Maybe the part
where my non-recordbreaking train is totally shit-housed?
CYRIL: Not as shit-housed as my spleen... MALORY: Ooh,
or maybe the part where the mounties will never hire ISIS again!
PAM: What's it matter, we're all banned from Canada.
GILLETTE: Au revoir, sweet man-whores of Montreal... MALORY: Ugh.
Lana?
You were saying?
LANA: Ah, well, we did help with a major arrest... MOUNTIE ONE: Kenny Bilcoe,
you're under arrest for violation of sections one through nine of the Canadian
Terrorism Act, buddy.
BILCOE: Sorry to cut into yer donut supply, boys.
Long live free Nova Scotia!
LANA: Oh wait, make that five... MOUNTIE ONE: Same goes for you bastards!
Plus impersonating an RCMP constable!
MOUNTIE TWO: That's not fair, you're doin it!
MOUNTIES: [snarky laughter]
LANA: Oh, wait!
I guess make that six... MOUNTIE ONE: And besides
attempted murder on a black guy, you're under arrest for
violating the Exotic Fish and Wildlife Importation Act.
ARCHER: Yeah whatever, Dudley Douchebag... MOUNTIE ONE: Plus you already
used that once.
ARCHER: It was good enough to merit seconds!
ARCHER: You hear that?
They called you exotic!
BABOU: RROWR!
ARCHER: Which is just people talk for awesome, which is what you are,
which is why I was happy to save your life, buddy.
BABOU: Rrowr?
ARCHER: No don't worry, probably just thousands of dollars in fines,
maybe a little jail time, hopefully just probation.
ARCHER: Totally worth it.
BABOU: Rrowr?
ARCHER: No, Babou.
That was all sarcasm.
BABOU: Rrowr?
ARCHER: Yes, all of it!
You fox-eared asshole!
Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com