I don't know where the disclaimer telling you I don't own any Archer stories is. Maybe it went wherever Woodhouse disappeared to? This is just a mad idea from my mad little mind.
The Archer Diary
"You're going to be a what again?" Lana asked as she folded her arms.
"A gonzo journalist," Archer said. "I'm going to write freelance articles about the wild and seamy underbelly of both the espionage world and LA."
Archer was in his office wearing a pastel blue shirt and sunglasses with tan pants and tan shoes. He was sitting at his desk with his computer and several bottles of alcohol surrounding him. Also surrounding him were the other members of the Figgis Agency.
"Well you have the gonzo part right," Ray quipped.
"You know…?" Archer gave him a look.
"Been watching Hunter S. Thompson movies again have we?" Krieger asked.
"Actually I've been reading old Doonesbury books," Archer said. "They're a real treasure trove of historical facts and satire. Seriously, it's like reading a time capsule."
"Well you're definitely Zonkers that's for sure," Pam quipped.
"And let's face it," Archer said. "There's a lot of that Uncle Duke character that's similar to myself."
"You mean a drugged out crazy alcoholic criminal?" Cyril asked.
"Well I have better hair obviously," Archer said.
"So let me see if I get this straight," Cyril sighed. "In order to drum up business and money for the agency you're going to be a writer?"
"Actually no," Archer corrected. "I'm going to be a writer for the fame and fortune. But once I'm famous and people learn I'm an essential part of this agency the clients and groupies will come rolling in!"
"So this is your version of trickle-down economics?" Cyril grumbled.
"Pretty much yes," Archer said. "I had the greatest, most exciting spy career there ever was…"
"Eehhh…." Mallory rolled her eyes as she took a drink.
"What exactly is this American literary masterpiece going to be about?" Lana quipped. "A travel guide to all the whorehouses you've visited?"
"Actually," Cyril began. "Knowing Archer, that could fill up a book easily."
"A book?" Pam quipped. "Archer could fill out a freaking encyclopedia!"
"All I have to do is write about my most dangerous missions and bam!" Archer leaned back in his chair. "The money will come rolling in!"
"As well as the lawsuits," Cyril groaned.
"The first rule of writing is write about what you know," Archer said. "And I know all about being a master spy. And women."
"Kind of like Satan writing a travel book about Hell," Ray admitted.
"Lest you idiots forget I've already written a book!" Archer pointed out.
"Technically Sterling, Woodhouse wrote the book," Mallory pointed out. "Transcribed from your deranged drunken ramblings."
"And it was a best seller," Archer added triumphantly.
"In the humor section," Ray pointed out. "For about a week. Until the new Garfield book came out."
"Sterling without Woodhouse you couldn't even write a book report," Mallory retorted. "Let alone an actual book!"
"Oh really?" Archer barked. "Have you forgotten my college essay? How Alcohol Made America Great?"
"How could I?" Mallory gave him a look. "It was the final straw which got you kicked out of college! Well that and your grades, your tardiness, your absences from class, the incident in the college library with the goat, and the incident with that fraternity, the keg party and the fire."
Everyone looked at Mallory. "I'm not saying that essay was the only reason Sterling was expelled from college," Mallory admitted. "But it was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back."
"Strangely enough I can see that happening," Krieger admitted.
"A camel's back being broken?" Cheryl asked. "Trust me on this one. It's not as much fun as you would think it would be."
"I'm thinking of Jon Hamm to play me in the movie version of my book," Archer mused.
"I think they've already remade One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest," Ray quipped.
"I think I'll start with my first mission which was…." Archer blinked. "Uh Mother what was my first mission anyway?"
"The assassination of a double agent in Prague," Mallory gave him a look.
"Oh right," Archer nodded. "I remember now!"
"So do I," Mallory gave him a look. "I remember how you completely blew the mission by getting drunk in that abbey on the way and seduced those nuns!"
"Oh yeah," Archer grinned. "Wait did that actually happen?"
"Wonderful," Lana groaned. "You were so drunk you don't remember half your missions! Some book this is going to be!"
"I remember most of it!" Archer barked. "The important stuff! Like the mission to seduce that Soviet Double agent and get the plutonium. Which is probably one of the reasons I got breast cancer…Anya Anyakova!"
"Anya Anyakova?" Lana raised an eyebrow. "You seduced Anya Anyakova?"
"Damn right I did!" Archer grinned.
"You seduced Anya Anyakova," Lana glared at him. "While you were dating me?"
"Uhhh…." Archer realized his mistake.
"And you swore at the time on a stack of bibles that you never touched her?" Lana's voice raised in anger.
"Technically they were bartender's bibles," Archer gulped. "Did I say Anya Anyakova? I was wrong! I meant Ana Anaconda who was a stripper I was with after we broke up the first time! Yes! I was with her! Not the other one. What was her name again?"
"Smooth Archer," Pam laughed. "Real smooth."
"I can't wait to read this book already," Cyril laughed.
"Archer…" Lana growled. "You and I are going to have a nice long talk about our relationship."
"Couldn't you just hit me instead and get it over with?" Archer asked.
"You wish!" Lana barked. "Everybody out!"
"But shouldn't someone stay and take notes?" Cheryl piped up. "For the book?"
"I would definitely like to read that chapter," Ray spoke up.
"As would I!" Cyril said cheerfully.
"Me too!" Krieger grinned.
"GET OUT!" Lana barked. The others almost ran over each other to leave.
Except for Mallory. "I think I should stay dear," Mallory glared at Archer. "And help you…Because I remember you promising me that you didn't sleep with that tramp either!"
"Oh God please no!" Archer moaned.
"Why not?" Lana glared at him. "Everyone else leave!"
"Why?" Cheryl asked. "We can hear you yelling just as well out there!"
"Get out of here!" Lana shoved her out the door.
"Oh great…" Archer gulped as both Mallory and Lana glared at him. "I heard of writers suffering for their art but this is ridiculous!"
The following day…
"So after Lana and Ms. Archer read Archer the riot act," Pam told the others. "Archer holed himself in his office and said he was going to work on his book."
They went into his office. Archer was passed out on his desk surrounded by empty bottles. "More like working through a case of scotch," Cyril remarked.
"What's going on?" Lana asked as she and Mallory walked in. "Great…Right where we left him."
"Well at least this time he wasn't wandering around trying out new venereal diseases," Mallory groaned. "STERLING WAKE UP!"
"AAAH!" Archer's head shot up. "I'm doing it! I'm doing it!"
"Doing what exactly?" Lana looked around.
"Give me a minute…" Archer groaned groggily.
"I see you're hard at work abusing your liver," Lana folded her arms. "When you could have been with me and our child!"
"For your information Lana," Archer sniffed haughtily. "I was working on my book! A novel that will redefine the American spy thriller novel for generations to come!"
"This I have got to hear," Lana rolled her eyes.
"It's obviously not ready yet for…" Archer began. The sound of a printer going off was heard. "KRIEGER!"
"Burgle the stiff," Krieger read from the paper he printed. "Boobs, boobs, boobies boobs. Boobs, babes and buck-aroonies. Big boobs. Boobs for Bob. Bob for Boobs."
"I sense a theme," Ray remarked. "And I'm pretty sure it's not postmodern feminism."
"I don't know it sort of speaks to me," Krieger shrugged. "There's more."
"Oh please continue," Mallory rolled her eyes.
"Burbon, burbon booze boobs," Krieger went on. "Lana lame mother mad bleah booze…"
"This thing makes Ulysses sound like a nursery school primer," Pam remarked.
"Obviously it's a rough draft," Archer defended.
"More like a rough night for your brain cells," Lana quipped.
"And then there's just a whole bunch of letters mixed together," Krieger narrowed his eyes. "Oh here are some words. Burgle, snergle snap…"
"Yeah that sounds like your writing all right," Cyril remarked.
"It sounds almost exactly like his essay on the SATs," Mallory groaned.
"Shall I cancel the building of the shelf where your Pulitzer Prize will go?" Ray quipped.
"Shut up," Archer groaned.