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CAPTAIN: All aboard for safety and adventure on the rigid airship Excelsior, where the pampered luxury of a cruise ship meets the smoothness of modern air travel. Yes, when you fly Excelsior, you're flying in style and safety.

TIMMY: Safety? But isn't hydrogen flammable?

CAPTAIN: And how, Timmy. That's why Excelsior is filled with safe, natural helium. Why, it's actually flame-retardant.

TIMMY: Neat!

CAPTAIN: And safe. So, whether you're enjoying excelsior's majestic vistas, duty-free shopping, high-stakes baccarat, dancing with your lovely wife, or even a cigar after a french gourmet dinner, you'll be enjoying them in style and safety. All aboard Excelsior!

ARCHER: God, who would want to put a bomb on that?

CAPTAIN LAMMERS: Well, that's what we're hoping ISIS can find out.

ARCHER: No, why bother? Some broad gets on there with a staticky sweater and, boom, it's "oh, the humanity!"

LAMMERS: No, no, that's—

MALORY: Sterling.

LANA: Were you watching some other blimp commercial just now?

LAMMERS: Technically, it's a rigid airship.

MALORY: Filled with helium.

LANA: Which is nonflammable. Dumbass.

LAMMERS: I thought our promotional video covered that fairly well.

MALORY: Oh, and how. Sterling, it's totally safe.

LAMMERS: Well, except for the bomb threat.

MALORY: No, not to worry, dear. ISIS won't let terrorists blow up your lovely blimp.

LAMMERS: Rigid airship.

MALORY: My top two agents will be on board.

ARCHER: Nope!

MALORY: And I will oversee the operation personally from what I assume will be first-class accommodations.

LAMMERS: Ooh, actually, we are fully booked.

MALORY: Well, if you think—oh, I don't know—this trudy beekman person can thwart a major terror plot...

LAMMERS: I suppose we could bump Mrs. Beekman—

ARCHER: Bump me. I'm not going.

LAMMERS: —If these two can share a cabin.

LANA: Nope!

ARCHER: —Not going to let the terrorists win. We'll pose as husband and wife.

LANA: Nope! Cyril would totally freak.

ARCHER: Ha.

LANA: Malory, come on, let me stay with you, and we'll do the whole Oprah/Gayle thing.

Malory: Nope! I need a stateroom to myself, in case I have a gentleman caller.

LAMMERS: Um...

ARCHER: Mother, please.

LANA: Please. Do not make me do this.

MALORY: But Lana, think of the innocent lives you'll be saving. And also the fact that this is a direct order.

LANA: At least tell me it's separate beds.

Lammer: Um.

Lana: Ugh.

Archer: Lana. Lana. LANA! LANAAAAAAAA!!!

Lana: WHAT?!?

Archer: Heh heh. Danger Zooooone.

[Credit Intro]

CYRIL: Terrible, awful, just gut-wrenchingly bad feeling about this.

LANA: Baby, I really need you to trust me, okay? Now, is the cabin small? Yes.

ARCHER: And yet, surprising amount of storage.

LANA: Ugh. And I will hardly be in here, okay, because I've got a terrorist to find, and I doubt he's hiding under—

ARCHER: What's basically a twin bed.

LANA: Archer!

ARCHER: Since it's all drawers under here because look how tiny this room is.

MALORY: Oh my god, it's like a broom closet.

ARCHER: And yet a surprising amount of storage.

MALORY: Oh, shut up. And Cyril, very eager to know why you're still here.

LANA: He was just—

CYRIL: Just helping Lana get settled.

ARCHER: Trust me, Cyril. She already settled.

LANA/CYRIL: Hey!

MALORY: Hey! Disembark, Cyril. We're about to launch... or whatever blimps do.

[Cut to Cheryl and Pam]

CHERYL: Yeah, what does a blimp do, Pam?

PAM: Uh, kick your skinny ass! Now, come on, we got to get off this thing before—

CHERYL: Relax. God, we've got half an hour.

PAM: Oh, well then make me a double Campari and uh... I guess vodka?

[Cut to Archer, Lana, Malory, and Lammers]

LAMMERS: We don't normally drink on the bridge.

ARCHER: Well, I don't normally fly on the Hindenburg 2.0, so.

LAMMERS: It's not the Hi—

LANA: And Cyril doesn't normally storm off without even kissing me goodbye.

ARCHER: So we're all out of our comfort zone.

MALORY: Not me. My stateroom is gorgeous.

LAMMERS: Oh.

MALORY: That—what's her name?—Beekman, I bet she's just sick she got bumped.

LAMMERS: Yes, she literally vomited from anger. So if we could just focus on the bomb threat.

LANA: How about crew members? Anyone who might be disgruntled?

LAMMERS: Um...

LT. KLAUSS KRAUS: Achtung!

LAMMERS: That's lieutenant Krauss. He and I were both up for command of the Excelsior, but—

LANA: You got it. Leaving him with motive.

KRAUS: Release the mooring cable.

ARCHER: Come on, it's not Larry Luftwaffe, that's—

MALORY: Oopsie.

ARCHER: Ugh, way too obvious.

[Cut to Cheryl, Pam, and Cyril]

PAM: God damn it! We're moving!

CHERYL: I know!

PAM: What happened to half an hour?

CHERYL: I lied.

PAM: Wha—why the—

CYRIL: Why the hell are you two still here?

CHERYL: Because I knew you'd be here because you don't trust Lana with Mr. Archer.

CYRIL: No! No, now, that is—

CHERYL: So ironic, Cyril, especially in light of recent...

CYRIL: No.

CHERYL: ...Rug-burny events.

PAM: Oh my god! You two banged?

CYRIL: I, uh... See, here's the thing, uh... fruit basket!

PAM: Wow. You are just a dog in a manger.

CHERYL: I don't know what that means, Pam. I didn't grow up on a cheese farm.

PAM: Oh, for the— It's called a dairy.

[Cut to Archer, Lana, Malory, and Lammers]

LAMMERS: And even the slightest hint of a problem on our maiden voyage would kill Excelsior's stock price.

MALORY: So Lana, canvass the passengers and crew, learn what you can about Kraus—

LAMMERS: But, please, be discreet.

LANA: Hey, good advice! Which maybe I'll just sort of fold in with my twelve years of experience as a covert operative.

MALORY: Don't be snotty.

ARCHER: Heh.

MALORY: And Sterling, if there is a bomb, captain, dear, where would it do the most damage?

LAMMERS: Probably in—

ARCHER: Uh, this new place called anywhere. This whole thing's a bomb.

LAMMERS: It's not—

ARCHER: Jesus! Want to blow us all to shit, Sherlock?

MALORY: Sterling.

ARCHER: What?

LAMMERS: For the last time, the Excelsior is filled with nonflammable helium! Although this is a non-smoking area, sir. Damn it, he's a prospective investor!

ARCHER: Not after that, I bet. Forget about Kraus. There's your bomber.

MULTIPLE: Who? Wait? What?

ARCHER: That guy. Beardsley McTurbinhead.

MALORY: You idiot. That's Sandu Singh, the billionaire investor. He's a Sikh.

ARCHER: Oh, so if he's not a Muslim, he just gets a pass? Well that's called profiling, Mother, and I don't do it.

LAMMERS: Mr. Singh is Excelsior's majority shareholder.

ARCHER: So?

LAMMERS: If anything went wrong on this flight, he'd lose millions.

ARCHER: It's a perfect cover.

MALORY: Sterling.

LANA: Just go look for the stupid bomb.

ARCHER: Relax, what do we have, like, four hours before we get to London?

LANA: Four hours?

MALORY: Sterling, are you joking?

LAMMERS: The crossing takes twenty-four hours.

ARCHER: Are you joking? What?

LAMMERS: Rigid airships combine the pampering of a cruise ship with the speed of—

ARCHER: Some other slightly faster ship? Uh, hello, airplanes? Yeah, it's blimps. You win. Bye. Oh, god. I hope you didn't invest in this.

LAMMERS: It'll be fine, though.

ARCHER: Blimps are terrible.

LAMMERS: As long as nothing goes wrong on this flight.

MALORY: Oh, captain, my captain; with ISIS on board, what could possibly go wrong?

[Cut to Cheryl, Pam, and Cyril]

CHERYL: Pick one. Either "A", I tell Lana what happened on that scratchy green office rug, or two, you get inside me.

CYRIL: Or "C", maybe I just jam this mop into the engine and kill all of us.

CHERYL: I don't think that's how blimps work.

CYRIL: Darn! Right, we just sort of float around. Stupid, naturally safe helium.

CHERYL: But I am liking the jamming imagery. And the killing.

CYRIL: And are you just gonna sit there?

PAM: Yeah, until she tags me in.

CYRIL: What?

PAM: I'm kidding! My back's all messed up.

[Cut to black. Cut back to Cheryl, Pam, and Cyril]

Pam: So, you're ruining Cyril's life because, in your dream-the-impossible-dream world, it'll make Mr. Archer jealous?

CHERYL: Oh, Pamela. You read me like a poem.

PAM: Yeah? What's the poem gonna be about when Cyril snaps and murders you?

CHERYL: I don't know. World's gushiest orgasm?

[Cut to Archer and Lana]

LANA: Can you just get out of the way?

ARCHER: What? Are you gonna shoot me again?

LANA: Yes!

ARCHER: Oh. Well then hang on.

LANA: Cyril is already freaked out enough about us sharing this shoe box without you air-drying your unkempt bush.

ARCHER: Unkempt bush? Um, you're one to talk!

LANA: My vulva is smoother than a veal cutlet! What terrible timing.

CYRIL: Oh, really?

LANA: Baby—

CYRIL: Did I interrupt something?

ARCHER: Uh, rehearsal with your commodores tribute band.

LANA: Archer! Cyril, what are you doing here?

CYRIL: I wanted to tell you something very important, but apparently you're too busy showing off your vealy vulva!

LANA: Cyril! You know, your whole trust thing— and I've tried to, okay? You know what? We are on a break!

CYRIL: Oh, yeah?

LANA: Yeah!

CYRIL: Well, that's fine by me!

LANA: Cyril, wait!

KRAUS: No running!

CYRIL: Shut up!

LANA: Oh my god, what have I—

ARCHER: What are you doing? Go after him.

LANA: Oh, you think I should?

ARCHER: Wha— Yes! We're almost out of fruit.

[Cut to Malory and Lammers]

LAMMERS: Which is why I find it strange that you're so incredibly calm!

MALORY: Well, that seaweed wrap just slurps out the stress. Can't wait to tell Trudy Beekman all about it. Uh, if, um, we ever meet.

LAMMERS: What about you? Anything on Kraus?

LANA: No. Shut up. Have you seen Cyril?

MALORY: Why would I have?

LANA: Uh...

LAMMERS: And what the hell is he doing?

ARCHER: Hey, what did I tell you, huh?

GUY SMOKING: Oh!

ARCHER: Huh?! There! Go buy a nicotine patch! Gentlemen.

LAMMERS: No, no, no! What happened to discretion?

LANA: What happened to that bartender?

MALORY: Right? Guy sees an empty glass and all of a sudden he's Judge Crater.

LAMMERS: Oh, for god's sake!

SANDU SINGH: Nigel, some chips for Mr—

ARCHER: Archer. Sterling Archer.

BACCARAT ATTENDANT: The minimum bet is 10,000, sir— dollars.

ARCHER: Oh, I stuffed all my money in that guy's mouth, cause he...

SINGH: Well, perhaps we could play for something much more interesting.

ARCHER: Yeah, cause that was seriously, like, all the cash I had on me, so.

SINGH: So, if I win, I spend a night of passion with your exquisite wife.

ARCHER: My what? Oh, yes, my wife. Of course. Yeah, it's a deal. But if I win, you tell me where the bomb—

BACCARAT ATTENDANT: Baccarat!

ARCHER: What?

BACCARAT ATTENDANT: Mr. Singh wins.

ARCHER: Wait, wait, wait. We were going?

SINGH: The Von Zeppelin suite. I shall expect her within the hour.

ARCHER: She's not gonna be happy about that. Um, what are you mostly paid in tips?

BACCARAT ATTENDANT: Almost entirely, sir.

[Cut to Malory and Lana]

MALORY: Well, whose fault is that?

LANA: I— you—

MALORY: Prancing around in your Fiacci knockoffs, blathering about your vulva?

LANA: Hey, first of all—

MALORY: I'm just saying, you're driving Cyril straight toward another woman.

LANA: Cyril? With another woman? Malory, seriously. Look at me.

[Cut to Cheryl, Pam, and Cyril]

CHERYL: Look at and choke me! Oh, yes, yes! Oh! My! God! Yes!

CYRIL: Oh, my god, what am i doing?

PAM: You're ruining your life, you idiot! And making it hard to drop a deuce.

[Cut to Archer and Lana]

LANA: Uh, I'm sorry, what?

ARCHER: You. Now. Led Zeppelin suite.

LANA: You have no proof Singh's the bomber.

ARCHER: He hinted, Lana.

LANA: That's profiling.

ARCHER: That the proof was in his cabin.

LANA: Really?

ARCHER: Yes! So go down there and find it while I go find the bomb.

MALORY: Ugh, bombs, bombers, vulvas. You people are just ruining my trip.

ARCHER/LANA: Uh.

MALORY: Well, don't stand here gaping at me! Go thwart something!

[Cut to Archer]

KRAUS: No running!

ARCHER: Zip it, zipperface!

KRAUS: Oh!

ARCHER: Oh, kidding, sorry. Hey, have you seen that nerdy fruit-basket steward?

KRAUS: Uh, check the Kaiser Wilhelm suite.

ARCHER: Man, you really need new names on the— Hey, what were you doing in there?

KRAUS: Things for authorized personnel only, so don't go in there. It's verboten!

ARCHER: Ah, okay. Probably merits a follow-up.

CYRIL: Archer!

ARCHER: Cyril.

CYRIL: Archer, I need your help. I think I'm losing it here, man.

ARCHER: What gave it away? My mother's r— Why are you Wearing my mother's robe?

CYRIL: I can explain this!

ARCHER: I don't think I want you to.

CYRIL: See, it all started when you and Lana—

ARCHER: Cyril, you should tell her this.

CYRIL: I tried! But you were naked, and it was all vulva this and vulva that.

ARCHER: Yeah, and as you stand here, dick and/or balls caressed by my mother's robe—Ugh!—Lana is waiting for you.

CYRIL: Really? Where?

ARCHER: The Led Zeppelin suite.

CYRIL: There's a Von Zeppelin suite.

ARCHER: Which I'm sure is what I meant, so go!

CYRIL: Thanks, archer. You're the best.

ARCHER: I know.

[Cut to Cyril]

CYRIL: So, yes, the bottom line is that I was unfaithful to you two, well, three times, I guess, if a dry-humpy choker counts. And if you can't see it in your heart to forgive me, I will forgive you. Because that's what love is, Lana. It's forgivey. Which is not a word. Come on, Figgis! All right, here we go.

LANA: Oh, why?

SINGH: Hello.

CYRIL: So, that's your idea of a break, huh?

LANA: Oh, Cyril, it's not what it looks like.

[Cut to Malory, Pam, and Cheryl]

MALORY: Well then, what is it?

PAM: Okay, so, Cyril got in over his head.

MALORY: Jesus God, did he kill her?

PAM: No, no, no. He ran from her to go confess to Lana. But, so then this one starts freaking out, and long story short, I kind of had to drown her in the tub.

MALORY: So you killed her?

PAM: Apparently not, so... good news.

LANA: Shut up, Pam. And did Cyril run by here crying in a woman's bathrobe?

MALORY: Well, it wouldn't surprise me. You're driving him stark raving mad.

LANA: What'd I do?

MALORY: What you do? Running around all up and down this stupid blimp—

PAM: Against the rules.

MALORY: Half-naked, tits bouncing around like you're at a rodeo, then going back to some billionaire's suite?

LANA: I was trying to stop a bomb plot.

MALORY: Oh, my god. There is no bomb!

PAM: More good news.

LANA: And just how do you know that?

MALORY: Ugh, because I made the bomb threat. Trudy Beekman booked the very last ticket on this flight, so it was all, "Meh, meh, meh, I'm Trudy Beekman. I'm on the co-op board, and I'm going on a blimp. Meh!" So, yes, I made a phony bomb threat.

PAM: Good for you.

LANA: And yet you lecture me. Lovely.

ARCHER: Mm, yello!

MALORY: So, what would you say if I told you that your mother made a phony bomb threat just to get a free ride on a blimp?

ARCHER: I'd say that's fairly classic her.

MALORY: Oh, shut up.

ARCHER: And then I'd just sort of laugh at the, uh, um—the whatchamacallit, irony?

LANA: There's actually a bomb on board? Archer? Archer— oh, what the hell? Where the fuck are you going?

ARCHER: I got to get my turtleneck.

LANA: What the...

ARCHER: I'm not defusing a bomb in this.

KRAUS: No running!

ARCHER: Shut up! Oh, and, Lana, maybe you ought to grab the Kraut. He's the bomber.

KRAUS:[As Lana points her TEC-9 at Krause] Gott im himmel! [scene gose to the bomb] What is this?!

LANA: You know what it is, fritz. So shut your schnitzel hole and disarm it.

KRAUS: Ah, I get it. The German guy mit the scar must be the bad guy. Well you know how I got this scar? Saving a Jewish girl from a gang of skinheads.

LANA: Oh, jesus.

KRAUS: Yeah! Und so Kraus gets a curb party.

LANA: Wow, now I feel like an asshole.

KRAUS: Your words.

LANA: But could you be a lamb and disarm it anyway?

KRAUS: Yeah, probably.

LANA: Wha—

ARCHER: Okay, I got the turtleneck and my wire cutters. Now, where are we?

LANA: We're at you just shot the guy who could disarm the bomb, jackass!

ARCHER: I didn't shoot him! You think I'd bring a gun on this firetrap?

LANA: Well, then who did it?

LAMMERS: I did!

LANA: Captain Lammers?

ARCHER: Nice read, Velma.

LAMMERS: "Keep your 401k in company stock," they said. "The price can only go up," they said. Well, guess what.

ARCHER: Um, it didn't?

LAMMERS: Who the hell wants a two-day blimp ride to London, which is our only route?!

ARCHER: Okay, so it's a niche market, but still you—

LANA: Blowing it up will send the stock ice down to zero!

LAMMERS: Yeah, that's why I shorted it.

LANA: But what about all the other employees?

LAMMERS: Um.

LANA: See, it's that kind of selfish shit—

ARCHER: Lana, no! You'll kill us all!

LAMMERS: For the last time, you idiot! It's not hydrogen! It's helium!

LANA: And what about that are you still not getting, exactly?

ARCHER: Well, obvious the core concept, Lana. Sorry I didn't go to space camp.

LANA: How about bomb-defusal camp?

ARCHER: No, actually, Lacrosse camp, if that helps. I mean, a lot of those skills are universal.

LANA: Shut up. Agent Gillette, please.

ARCHER: Oh, great.

RAY: Come on, people, talk to me! What are we thinking? What are we doing?

BILBO: What are we wearing?

RAY: My crisis vest, Mr. Fat Face. Lana? Hey, girl. You there?

LANA: Yeah, I'm—Hey, can you see me?

RAY: I see your knock-off Fiacci drawers!

LANA: You are such a bitch.

ARCHER: Hey, ray.

RAY: Ugh. Let's see that ignition, girl. Got it? East German crap. Probably a gk-31 or 32. So, uh, so on the side of the timer, there should be a serial number. That'll tell me which wire y'all need to cut. You got it?

ARCHER: Yeah, I see it. Ready?

RAY: Since first call.

ARCHER: 9-3-4-T-X-S

RAY: T-X-X? Two X's?

ARCHER: No, X-S, like inxs.

RAY: In-X-X?

ARCHER: "S"!

RAY: Jesus, use the NATO phonetic alphabet.

ARCHER: Uh, what?

LANA: Christ on sale! Is it "S"?

ARCHER: Duh!

LANA: Sierra. Ray, it's Niner-3-4 Tango-XRay-Sierra.

RAY: Thank you, doll. Now, there should be a dash followed by two letters.

ARCHER: Okay.

RAY: Okay, so now I want you to cut the blue and white wire.

ARCHER: Which one? There's two of those.

RAY: No— one's blue with a white stripe, and the other one's white with a blue stripe.

ARCHER: Yeah, and both are identical!

RAY: No! They're not!

LANA: Uh, Ray, hon? They're really similar.

RAY: One's a teeny bit blue, honey.

ARCHER: Which one?

LANA: I guess that one. Maybe?

ARCHER: So, wait, which one do I cut?

RAY: The teeny bit blue one!

ARCHER: Okay!

RAY: Okay? Wait! stop! You said the two letters after the dash were Oscar-Kilo.

ARCHER: Who? What?

RAY: O.K.— Oscar-Kilo.

ARCHER: No! "Okay"! Like, "Okay, now I'm gonna tell you what they are."

RAY: Yeah, and then you didn't!

ARCHER: I thought we skipped that part!

RAY: Skipped a step in disarming a bomb.

ARCHER: Yeah, which I thought was pretty irresponsible on your part!

RAY: Why do you always do this?

ARCHER: Why do you always not shut up?

ARCHER/LANA: Ow.

ARCHER: Stop.

RAY: On the radio, when we answer in the affirmative, we say "roger."

ARCHER: O—Roger. Sorry. Ray.

RAY: Now, in the serial number, what are the two letters following the dash?

ARCHER: ...You ready?

LANA: Goddammit, Archer!

RAY: Roger!

ARCHER: The first letter is B.

RAY: Bravo.

ARCHER: Thanks. Second letter is N.

RAY: M as in Mike or N as—

ARCHER: As in Nancy. God. You of all people.

RAY: What?

LANA: Archer.

RAY: Archer, me of all people what?

ARCHER: Nothing.

RAY: Mm-hm.

LANA: Ray, hon?

RAY: Okay, so—

ARCHER: You can say "okay"!

LANA: Oh, my god! Ray, can I shoot him?

RAY: In about five seconds, honey.

ARCHER: Lana, be careful! Jesus, the helium!

RAY: Right after he cuts the solid green wire.

ARCHER: The green color is solid or—

RAY: Roger!

ARCHER: O— Roger. Cutting the green wire.

RAY: Archer!

ARCHER: Jesus! God! What?

RAY: That's how annoying you are.

ARCHER: Your mom's annoying! How about that?

RAY: Oh, yeah. Let's go there.

LANA: Let's go here, where, Archer, shut up and cut the goddamn wire, already!

ARCHER: You shut up, and I'm doing it! God!

LANA: Oh my g— Ray!

RAY: What's going on?

LANA: The timer sped up!

RAY: Did you cut the green one?

ARCHER: Yes! Roger! Steven! Whoever!

LANA: Ray?

RAY: What were the last two letters?

ARCHER: B as in "Butthole".

LANA: What do we do here?

ARCHER: And M as in "Mancy".

RAY: What?

LANA: M as in what?

ARCHER: Mancy. What did you think I said?

RAY: Nancy! You idiot!

ARCHER: Oh. Yeah. I can see how, uh, and then i was like, "you of all—" Ah! Ah, ah, ah! Exact! Same! Spot!

LANA: Ray? Ray, tell me what to do!

RAY: Do y'all have parachutes?

LANA: No!

RAY: Well, that would be, you know—problem solved!

LANA: Ray!

RAY: I don't know! Push it off with your big-ass hands! Good luck, honey.

LANA: Oh, it's too heavy! Archer!

ARCHER: Ah! Ah! Ah!

LANA: I cannot do this alone!

CYRIL: You're not alone!

LANA: Baby! You came back to me!

CYRIL: Well, I really— Lana, there's a lot you and I need to talk about.

LANA: And let's do that, right after we shove this huge bomb off the blimp.

CYRIL: Okay, but then we seriously need to—

LANA: Cyril!

CYRIL: Sorry. Here we go.

CYRIL: Lana, we're not gonna make it!

LANA: Yes, we are, Cyril! We are gonna make it!

CYRIL: Oh, my god! Lana, we made it!

ARCHER: Hooray for metaphors!

CYRIL: I told you.

LANA: Okay, now, then, what did you want to talk about?

CYRIL: Um, well, uh, a lot of stuff, really. Starting with the fact we just bombed Ireland.

LANA: Um, pretty sure that's wales.

[End of Skytanic]

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