And that's your message? My God.
Who...? Who's there? What do you want?
Because all you're gonna get is holes. I... I mean, holes in you...
not my... Hah! Sterling?
- Hello, Mother. - Where the hell have you been?
- I don't know. - What...? And why do you have a cleaver?
"Interoffice fraternization of an intimate nature..."
is prohibited to include but not limited to...
trysts, assignations..." What's this even mean?
It means no more banging coworkers.
Oh, so it doesn't affect you.
Mee-hee. Oh, wait, guess what.
Ow! Hey, this isn't my fault.
It's exactly your fault, idiot. When Mother found out you cheated on Lana...
- Hey, you cheated on Lana plenty. - Yeah, but with starlets, models.
Oh, and one time, two actual princesses.
- Two at the same time? - Yeah, they were sisters.
- Sploosh. - Cyril, you threw Lana away on chicks like...
- Like Carol. - It's Cheryl.
- Exactly, back me up here. - You slept with her too.
When I was bored. Like, stuck at home waiting for the cable guy, or... Oh, hey.
What are you doing Thursday between 9 and noon?
- Ugh. - One and 4?
I'll be doing one of your co-workers.
Well, do it before quitting time Friday.
- Why'd Ms. Archer give us until Friday...? - I did that.
Somebody in this building is gonna have sex with me.
Yeah? You think between now and Friday...
- you can score some roofies? - Heh-heh-heh.
Uh-uh. Pam? I will end you.
Ow!
Where the hell is my staple gun?
I think I saw Cyril with it.
- He went through my desk? - I guess. I mean he said he did.
I don't know why I'm surprised. I mean, can you believe him?
- Cheating on Lana? - Baffling.
Said the kettle. Which is why I started that new policy.
- Yeah? - You idiots run around here...
like it's spring break on South Padre.
- Just sex, sex, sex... - Sexy-sexy, eh?
- Nikolai? - Is from Frederick's of Latvia.
- Mother? What? - Oh, hello, son.
- Nikolai. - Why did he call me "son?"
- What is this? - You mean...
besides incredibly awkward?
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No, I think "incredibly awkward" just about sums it up.
What? Mother!
Nikolai, could I call you back?
I will be here maybe in one hour...
- then I'll try to hit gym, so... - The gym. That'll be the day.
Are you out of your mind?
I must be. Because it looks like you just destroyed...
my Steuben bar set.
- Well, you just destroyed my innocence. - Oh, please, that Brazilian au pair...
- did that when you were 13. - 12. And why does Nikolai Jakov...
the head of the KGB, have a direct line to your office?
Well, you know, from time to time... What...? No.
Just leave that, you'll cut yourself. Sterling.
Why did he just call me son?
- That's often a figure of speech. - Yeah? How often?
Very often. Just not in this case.
I know... Uh...
What?
Terrific. Two Steuben glasses left and you break one.
I'm sorry, Krieger, but it's over.
So here's all your Creedence Clearwater albums back.
- Now a sad moon is on the rise. - I know, devastating.
But it's not you, it's your weak, womanny hands.
- They're not... - It's like being choked by a child.
Which I thought would be hot, but...
- Wait, no, I'll take steroids. - I can't wait. I need a man now...
- with monster-hands. - Oh, like Lana ha... Hey, you.
You know, the whole "monster-hands" thing?
Starting to border on mean.
Oh, you gonna run cry to Ms. Archer, like when Cyril cheated on you?
- Hello. - Ooh-la-la.
Well, at least my ex-boyfriend isn't a noose I made out of extension cord.
Guess what. She wasn't the only one Cyril cheated with.
- And what is that supposed to mean? - Figure it out, Truckasaurus.
Oh, that gives me an idea.
But I already have a father. His name was John Fitzgerald Archer.
He was a fighter ace, and he won the Navy Cross.
- And his men called him... - "Black Jack" Archer.
I know, dear, I know, because I made it all up.
But the military funeral.
- Ready. Aim. - Oh, my God.
- If we miss that train I will go blind. - Fire.
But the 21 gun salute.
I donated 600 bucks to a Junior ROTC team up in Yonkers.
Which they used to go to a competition in Albany...
where they won third place. So a lot of good came out of that.
- So all's well that ends well? - What was I to do?
Tell a 3-year-old his father might be in the KGB?
What? What do you mean might be?
So there may or may not be a few other possibles...
in the mix.
What?
Seriously? You cheated on me with Carol?
- Cheryl. - Exactly.
- And I can explain that. - Well if you'd let me.
Yeah, tell me. How my father might be Nikolai Jakov...
head of the KGB or Len Trexler, head of ODIN!
- Well... - I assume those are my only choices?
Oh, my... Who else?
- Gene Krupa. No, wait. - What? The drummer?
Not Krupa, the other one, with the teeth.
- Buddy Rich. - Oh, my...
- I could never say no to a drummer. - Could you say no to anybody?
I said no to plenty.
- No. No. - Yes. Have sex with me. Please.
- No. - Oh, come on.
- Nobody would ever know. - Pam? Yeah.
- I'd know. - No.
- Let me talk to him. - No. No.
Nikolai, he's not even here. He stormed out, thanks to you.
But I could talk sense into him. After all, I am his father.
Oh. So...
Len Trexler or Buddy Rich?
- Get me that crazy German. Now. - Ow! Ow!
- Hostile work environment. - Shut up.
We are going to kidnap Agent Sterling Archer.
Oh, yeah? Then what, you hurt his feelings?
Then we put new mind-control microchip into his brain.
We use its remote-control capability...
to bring him here, make the papa test.
And if I am Archer's father...
I turn him against his own mother, as Soviet agent.
Make him a, how you say, vole.
- I think you mean mole. Mole. - Huh?
Vole is also rodent, but more closer related to lemming.
Come on, buddy.
Can't you read, ass-douche? You're not supposed to be here without a kid.
As it happens, I am here with a child.
Mani, can we have more money for the sweets?
What? That's not even a real baby.
And that is? I thought you were off to the fair with your prize turnip.
- A tur...? Listen, you kraut puke. - Hello.
Oh, yeah. You should go.
You're lucky his father's not here.
He knows krav maga, he'll kick your balls through your hat...
- you Nazi shit ass. - Mani, these people.
Well, you wanted him to grow up in the city.
Nein, major, not you. Yeah, listening.
And after you take Archer to the...
KGB safehouse on Gansevoort...
you will implant the microchip...
- into his brain. - Got it.
Yeah, seriously. Okay, Uta, we have a job, so...
Where is the diaper bag?
- I forgot where I put it. - Huge surprise.
- Ow! Ow! - Idiot. What is wrong with you?
And just who the happy hell...
do you think you are, hanging up on me?
Oh, you gonna tell your boyfriend, Len Trexler?
- Or maybe Gene Krupa? - It was the other one.
Maybe. Or you, maybe, or...
Whoever it was, he wasn't there to raise Sterling, so I don't need him butting in now.
- We'll see. Nothing. - What?
Nikolai, what are you scheming at?
- Nothing. - Again he hangs up on me.
And there goes the last Steuben.
- Sploosh. That's what I'm talking about. - Yup, yup, yup.
Wait, you think it's safe?
No.
Okay, we got the French chick, and Carol...
- and anybody else, Rambone? - No.
Hi, Cyril.
- Well. Um... - Scatterbrain Jane? Really?
Well, say she had just been diagnosed with breast cancer.
Oh, right. I forgot, your dick's full of radiation...
and mastectomy coupons.
Boy, you are just so determined not to be cool about this.
- Yup. Anybody else? - Um...
Ms. Archer, you're trying to seduce me.
Aren't you?
- Nope, no, no one. - Okay, okay, okay.
- Okay, get out. - Of my own office?
- Yup. - Why?
Oh, you don't wanna be here...
when I bang every last dude in the building.
- What? - Here on your blotter.
- No! - Yup!
- You can't do that. - Really? Is it Opposite Day already?
Uh... Attention? Hi, this is Agent Kane...
and if you wanna have ball-slappy sex with me on Cyril's desk...
please line up and take a number.
You heard the lady. Take a number.
Eighty-sixed? Uh-uh. You don't eighty-six me.
Because my dad won the Navy Cross.
- Here's the door. - Help. Please help me.
My baby. He swallowed something, he's choking.
Oh, who gives a shit about a baby?
Who would want to raise a child here?
- Well, that was a huge waste of time. - I said don't take your clothes off.
- Well. Well! - Begged, even. Okay, this is good to go.
- So was this. - So let's get number two in here.
- You really think this is gonna work? - Pam, look at me.
Yeah... Sploosh.
- Now serving number two. - I'm two.
- That's me! Move, dude. - Animals.
- You're all just animals. - Lying in wait at the watering hole...
taut buttocks all aquiver, just aching to pounce...
on the supple brown flesh of your woman.
- Shut up. - They're gonna mess her up.
- Why are you even here? - Hello.
- But you're gay. - Girl, please. Nobody's that gay.
- Wait, what? - What, what?
What part of you pay me 600 dollars do you not get?
The part where we don't have sex?
You get to say we did.
Which is, like, half the reason men have sex.
But that's a lot of money.
- Not compared to rotator cuff surgery. - What?
Which you're gonna need after the jillion high-fives...
you give your little bros.
- Okay, I'm in. - But first guy you tell is Cyril.
- And make up the sickest... - Yeah, shut up, do you take plastic?
- Five percent discount for cash. - I thought it was ten.
Oh, oh, oh, I can't wet my beak?
Hey, seriously, kidnappers...
super not in the mood for this right now.
Or that. What is that?
Is that a drill?
- Okay, so. - I don't want that.
- I make a klein hole in his skull with this. - Just shut that off.
- Then into the hole I smoosh this. - What is that?
And then they can control his brain.
But is Soviet technology...
- so it's a crapshoot. - This is amazing, no?
What is amazing is we just ran into him on the street.
- It's a huge city. - Hey. Hey! Proposition.
First person to untie me, guy or gal...
- I will let him or her give me a handy. - Ugh.
- Let's share the milk of human kindness. - What an asshole.
- Don't worry, your time is coming. - Wait, by time do you mean me?
And by "don't worry", do you mean the chick's gonna be doing the handy?
And either way, can we do it without that thing?
Hey, seriously.
Give me a hanjo.
It doesn't work.
I drill hole in head of man who maybe is my son.
Put chip in his brain...
and now you tell me it doesn't work.
You should have asked me before, you...
See, in testing we have had teensy problem...
with signal from satellite.
When it is in small window just over the target...
it can signal the chip.
But when it exits this window.
- Ahh. - This problem does not sound teensy!
It is compared to the problem we had...
with interference from cell phones.
Which in lab sent test subjects into ferocious homicidal rages.
So obviously we need to tweak it.
Damn that crazy, jealous Russian.
Bet he's hatching some half-assed, vodka-soaked scheme to...
- Hello? Ha! - Sterling? Sterling, listen very... Wha...?
Voicemail. You know what to do.
- We're sorry. - Damn it.
Carol? Carol.
And just where the hell is she?
- Oh, God, sorry. Sorry. - Ahh...
- What are you doing? - I thought you said start slacking off.
Not slacking off.
Dude, swear to God. She gave me a Jane Hathaway.
Right on my chest. My man knows what I'm talking about.
Doesn't anyone work around here? And Cyril...
I am so disgusted with you right now I just wanna vomit.
That's exactly what I said to Lana.
Thirty-seven. Thirty-seven.
Ooh.
- Uh... Move. - Ugh.
Just get it done by Friday.
Oh, come on Sterling, pick up, pick...
Sterling? Sterling? What's wrong, are you in...?
Ha. Alternate voicemail.
- You know what to do, stupid. - We're sorry...
I'm done. He's dead to me.
Mother.
Kill Mother.
Oh, my God, I'm exhausted.
Whereas I am merely confused.
If you told every guy the same thing...
then they all know that none of them had sex with you.
- They're all gonna realize they're all lying. - Hey, yeah.
- Wait a minute. - But remember, they're dudes.
- What? - Um...
- I had sex with Lana. - Me too.
- Lana Kane, you magnificent bastard. - Mwah.
- I just hope Cyril don't, like, snap. - Cyril? Snap?
- Snap. - Girl, please.
Seven, six, two, millimeter...
full metal jacket...
Someone's in here.
Holy shit snacks. You made over 20 grand.
Minus my sixty bucks.
Plus Cyril's broken heart. Not too shabs, Pam.
Are you kidding? 36 guys?
It's like Schindler's List up in here.
- Pam! - And I'm like that little Gandhi dude.
- Pam. - Helping out with the books, and...
Inappropriate analogies? What the hell is wrong with you?
Nothing. I'm a desirable...
full-bodied woman but nobody will have sex with me.
And I have so much love to give.
- Get on the desk. - Really?
Yeah, come on. Before I change my mind.
- But you cannot say a word. - I won't tell anybody.
No, honey, I mean during.
Cause I'm gonna pretend you're Alex Karras.
And that's your message? My God, who...?
Who's there? What do you want?
Because all you're gonna get is holes. I... I mean holes in you...
not my... Hah!
- Sterling? - Hello, Mother.
Where the hell have you been?
- I don't know. - And why do you have a cleaver?
- I don't know. - Well, you're safe now. So get out.
- I'm hungry. - So lick that coat. You smell like a...
- Grilled cheese. - What?
- Grill me a cheese. - I'm not grilling you a cheese.
Oh, for God's sake.
Waltz in here, dressed like some sort of cattle-rapist.
Waving a cleaver and reeking of what I hope to God is meat.
And that's all you have to say?
- I don't know. - I was worried sick. Called you twice...
came this close to leaving...
And why doesn't your voicemail just say, "Leave a message, I'm a jackass"?
- I don't know. - I don't know. I don't know.
What is wrong with you?
My head hurts. And I have no father.
Sterling, of course you have a father.
- Just maybe not the one you wanted. - And you...
And me neither. Because even though that whole weekend...
is just a big jazzy blur, I'm pretty sure it wasn't Buddy.
- And all these years, you lied to me. - Sterling, I was protecting you.
From what, this sandwich?
- This is Swiss, Mother! - Because that's all I had. You ass.
- Just like I'm all that you have. - Well, I hate it. And I hate you.
Sterling Malory Archer, you will eat...
every last crumb of that sandwich.
- No. - Then get out. I'll call you a cab.
Sterling, stop that this instant.
- Kill Mother. - Waah!
Ah. Kill Mother.
Police, police, have to call the... Waah!
Déja vu, huh? I'm having a nightmare and you lock me out of your bedroom?
- Sterling, no, stay back. - Only this time, you'll be crying for help.
- Sterling! - And I'll be the one drinking...
- and laughing in there with Uncle Buddy! - Sterling, I'm warning you.
Sterling!
Sterling?
Sterling. Sterling!
What? God.
Well, whose fault is that? Waving a cleaver, screaming in Russian?
- I'm sorry. - Ass.
Seriously, I don't know what's going on with my head.
Filthy coat, can't tell what's cow's blood and what's yours.
The wet blood, Mother, is mine.
- And it's ruining my brand-new linens. - Sorry.
- This is why I can't have nice things. - Why, because you shoot them?
Serves you right. You nearly scared me to death.
Well, you obviously weren't that scared, judging by your grouping.
- Uhn. - Hah. Guess the old gal's still got it.
- All six, right in the ten ring. - Hooray.
Just like I taught you. Without any help from...
- whoever your father is. - Yeah, you were always there for me.
- Which I never really thank you for. - Sterling, I don't need thanks.
That's what makes me such a wonderful mother.
- Ha-ha. Are you kidding? - Don't be shitty.
- Can't we just enjoy the moment? - Yeah, how could we not?
Ass.
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