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00:21:29
H. Jon Benjamin, Judy Greer, Amber Nash
33
Bloop! The welsher says... CYRIL: Psst!
ARCHER: Cyril? Oof! Unh!
...there's about 10 klick ofjungle that I just assume is one giant booby-trap showroom.
Cover it with malaria and leeches, sprinkle some dengue fever on it...
Cover it with malaria and leech, sprinkle some dengue fever on it...
ARCHER: Well, then why not just say "kilometer"?
Um, tropics or Busch Gardens?
Calzado's boss. Don't you remember the dossier?
Mother, the chevron are locking.
We'll use some of the million-dollar reward to pay his ransom.
Well, at least one does, because I just heard its spine-tingling roar.
Uh, yeah, it means hurry? Come on, we got a chopper to catch. Tie him up.
Oh, my God! I'm gonna die in a toilet stall, just like the gypsy said.
And hopefully an infusion of much-needed capital.
[IN NORMAL VOICE] I kind of wish I'd skipped the diarrhea part.
Lana, get some vines and tie him up, chop-chop.
The floor is lava! The floor is lava!
Damn that Krieger. Nazi-clone bastard. Ah.
Since the DEA's budget was gutt by all those federal spending cutbacks.
I literally... Figuratively scour the globe for these special herbs...
Our special guests must not be injure in any way.
...you wouldn't be spout that socialist propaganda.
...subjects B and C have lapse into deep unconsciousness.
LANA: Archer, I swear to God, if you don't shut up...
The tiger also says you owe me $1000, so...
CYRIL: Then they brought me here. I bluff my way through the rest.
Okay, yes, bust again, but I think now we're kind of rethinking that, so...
Cyril, dress appropriately. You'll be helicopter into the jungle.
Cool. Oh, and this whole thing remind me.
Then I propose a friendly wager.
Oh, God, it tastes worse than it smell.
Possibly. Well, then we're all screw.
Because shut up. Oh, jungle zing.
Problemo solve-o.
After seeing a tiger get murder, Lana?
Cyril. No, I bet in this context, the "Shadow."
And Cyril is utterly, laughably unqualified to be a field agent.
You're thinking tactically, making quick decisions, and I gotta tell you...
It figuratively kills me to say this, Cyril, but yeah, you did.
Theoretically. Sorry.
Well, unless we need someone to go undercover as a shopping cart.
And Cyril is utterly, laughably unqualified to be a field agent.
Cyril, dress appropriately. You'll be helicoptering into the jungle.
...tearing around on specially-equipped croc-choppers.
I looked away for literally one second.
In a potentially hostile environment like this, the key is total situational awareness.
...confidence is pretty damn sexy. Really?
Besides, throwing money away like that would displease El Contador.
Well, then you're obviously an idiot when it comes to crocodiles...
Are you really that selfish?! ARCHER: Apparently!
Yeah, I'm definitely gonna be sick.
Possibly. Well, then we're all screwed.
We don't have enough field agents to effectively run our covert operations...
Exactly, and how many drug users could be treated with that money?
Ow! And B, lower your freaking voice.
Because that's exactly the brand of unparalleled professional excellence...
Okay, yes, let me explain. Busted. We're arms dealers.
...and it's guaranteed to rid your body of all traces of any illicit substance.
We don't have enough field agents to effectively run our covert operations...
I had, um, gastric distress, or whatever, so I was just gonna duck off the trail.
I know, but that's just lame. Cyril.
Which is ridiculous, given the current economy.
Damn that Krieger. Nazi-clone bastard. Ah.
Yes. Oh. Couple things. A, he's invisible.
I think maybe it's all these exotic animals.
I call it Krieger-Kleanse. It's an herbal tea, all-natural...
That's right, Archer. All part of my brilliant plan.
Ooh. Probably shouldn't have done that. Not enough left to get drunk on.
MALORY: And knock off that damn beatboxing!
Organizational charts, inventory and cash-flow analyses, spreadsheets.
...since he's our only way out of this stupid jungle, dumbass.
Because you're going to get Calzado, dead or alive.