The disclaimer telling all of you that I don't own any Archer characters has taken off somewhere. Just some random madness from my tiny little brain. Takes place shortly before the season seven premiere!
The Old Grey Mare
Mallory Archer was sitting at a table in the new break room. She had a phone in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other. As well as a large address book and some pens on the table along with a bottle of half-filled Glengoolie Blue.
"Hello!" Mallory said pleasantly into the phone. "Is Ambrose there? This is Mallory Archer…Oh. When did he die? Oh. I'm very sorry. My condolences. Yes well I was just…But I…Hello?"
"Damn it!" Mallory put down the phone and crossed out a name in an address book. "That's the third dead guy in a row! I really should have updated this thing sooner."
"Maybe I should skip ahead?" Mallory flipped through her address book. "Ah here we are! George Caberton! He actually lives in Malibu! Good. This is promising!"
She punched in the number. "Hello? Hi I'm Mallory Archer and old friend of George's. Who is this? Is this his daughter? Oh. His wife. Well could you put your husband on the phone dear?"
Mallory paused and muttered to herself. "Great, I feel like I've been put on hold by a six year old. Knowing George she probably is that…"
Suddenly Mallory quickly changed tone. "Hello George! It's Mallory! Mallory. Archer. Mallory Archer. From New York. No. That was someone else. Mallory Archer! We met years ago at that gala at the New York Met. The museum."
"All right do you remember the Friar's Club banquet you took me to? The coatroom ring a bell?" Mallory asked exasperated. "What do you mean you don't remember which one you were with? Well how many of those girls brought their own vibrating dildos? And were caught in the act by the President and the coat check girl? Yes! That Mallory!"
"Well I called because I've recently moved to Los Angeles," Mallory said in a sweet tone. "And I've been looking up my old friends. So what have you been doing lately? I mean besides your wife. Twenty two. Yes that is impressive."
"Any-way…" Mallory went on. "As I was saying…What? Hold on…I do not owe you ten thousand dollars! Really? You couldn't remember the party at the Met. You couldn't remember the coatroom incident. But that's what you remember about me?"
"They were only golf clubs!" Mallory snapped. "They couldn't have been worth…Now hold on! I do not only call you when I need money! I do not! I've just been busy with my work and now…"
"Why would you need to e-mail Trudy Beekman? And why do you even have her e-mail? Seriously?"
"Fine! Forget I called!" Mallory snapped. "And FYI, I'm not the idiot who passed up a wonderful afternoon of sex for a round of golf! Tell your preschool bride that I wish her luck finding an orgasm because she's going to need it! What do you think that means?"
Mallory hung up. "I'll put him down as a maybe…." She sighed as she went back to the address book.
"How's it hanging Mrs. Archer?" Pam asked cheerfully as she and Cheryl walked into the room and sat down at the table.
"Lower than the tits of a retired stripper," Mallory grumbled as she was looking through the address book. "Ugh! I thought when I moved to LA my social life would get a new start! This should have been my chance to move in higher circles."
"Really? What happened?" Pam asked.
"Trudy Beekman happened!" Mallory snapped. "Apparently she has some relatives out here. Who she frequently phones and e-mails."
"Ouch," Pam winced.
"And remember Mrs. Wainscott? She has a few relatives here as well," Mallory grumbled.
"That's the one where we wrecked the funeral of her father in law as well as you calling her a bitch at the repast right?" Cheryl asked.
"How did you not remember that?" Mallory asked. "And even as I asked the question…"
"To be fair she's not the only one. I was kind of drunk so it's a little hazy," Pam admitted.
"Unfortunately the Wainscott bitch's memory is crystal clear…" Mallory grumbled. "As well as the video someone posted on Me Tube from that funeral. Who records a funeral for posterity? Seriously!"
"What link is that?" Pam asked.
"So I'm guessing your tarnished reputation has followed you all the way to California?" Cheryl asked with more than a hint of glee in her voice.
"That and a few lawsuits," Mallory groaned. "Mostly from women whose husbands I had affairs with years ago. Damn website hackers…"
"And I'm also guessing that some of those people identified on that adultery website live here in Los Angeles?" Pam sighed.
"Give the woman a cocaine filled kewpie doll!" Mallory barked. "Fortunately not all is lost. I still have a few contacts from the old days who are pleased that I've arrived in town."
"Why?" Cheryl quipped. "So you can take the heat away from their scandals?"
"No!" Mallory snapped. "However it wouldn't hurt if I had some references from my old circle to vouch for me. And not just for me but for the agency! Unfortunately most of them are not answering my phone messages."
"Do they hate you or are they dead?" Cheryl asked.
"Little bit of Column A, little bit of Column B," Mallory admitted. "To be honest a lot more are in Column B than I realized."
"I thought you were slowly getting back into the graces of high society after those two other higher society bitches got arrested for murder?" Pam asked.
"I was," Mallory sighed. "Until I got blindsided by Trudy Beekman's big mouth and a group of up and coming forty year old Botox riddled tramps with their own damn reality show!"
"I've seen that show," Cheryl nodded. "I like the one from New Jersey better. People actually have fistfights on that show."
"These so called ladies aren't exactly that much better," Mallory bristled. "I can't believe people actually waste their time watching a bunch of women drink, gossip behind each other's backs, act like idiots and insult each other to their faces!"
Cheryl blinked and seemed to face a non-existent fourth wall for a moment. "Yeah, who wants to watch that!?"
Of course neither Pam nor Mallory caught that.
Mallory went on. "It's like the entire upper crust of New York society has lost its collective mind! Not that it was much higher than a sponge on crack!"
Mallory sighed and took a drink before continuing. "I remember a time when society had manners and class and elegance. People in my class knew how to behave then! And they certainly didn't air their dirty laundry and opinions to the world for a boatload of cash!"
"And you're mad because you didn't think of it first, right?" Pam guessed.
"No I'm not Dairy Queen!" Mallory barked. "I'm upset that the standards I've upheld for years…"
"While secretly undermining them…" Cheryl added.
Mallory ignored her and went on. "Have suddenly been thrown out on the curb! Poise and elegance and dressing well have been replaced with arrogance, narcissistic branding of oneself and wearing whatever flimsy piece of trash is associated with some fashion designer all out to make a quick buck!"
"And again…You think that should be you!" Pam rolled her eyes.
"I should have seen it coming," Mallory grumbled. "There's always someone younger, hungrier and more ambitious snapping at the heels of the establishment. Just trying to claw their way into the circle of power and privilege!"
"And you're mad it's no longer you," Pam guessed.
"You really should have seen it coming," Cheryl nodded. "Come on Ms. Archer! There are women in their twenties doing what you used to do! You can't compete with that! Because you know…You're old?"
"WHAT?" Mallory shouted.
"I said you're old!" Cheryl shouted. "Jesus! Get a hearing aid already!"
"I hate to say it Ms. Archer but Cheryl does have a point," Pam pointed out. "You're not exactly a spring chicken anymore."
"More like an old dried up vulture carcass ready to be tossed on the garbage pile," Cheryl said cheerfully.
"I am still a beautiful desirable woman!" Mallory shouted.
"Maybe on Old Person Fantasy Island!" Cheryl snorted.
"But in the real world rich powerful older dudes always go for the hot younger babes," Pam added. "Because they can get away with it."
"Think about it," Cheryl folded her arms in triumph. "How many of your so-called boyfriends in the upper circles have dumped you for a woman half your age?"
"Or in some cases a quarter of your age," Pam added.
Mallory began to reply when she stopped. She appeared to do some math in her head. "Damn it…" Mallory groaned.
"I'm guessing that number's pretty big isn't it?" Pam guessed.
"Yeah even Pam would have a better shot with those guys than you," Cheryl snorted. "Lotta old guys are chubby chasers."
"Major chubby chasers," Pam echoed.
"As long as they're younger and can put out…" Cheryl said.
"I can still put out with the best of them!" Mallory shouted. "Granted I can't do certain things on a trapeze bar like I used to. And trampolines are right out. But other than that I'm just as good as ever in the bedroom! Maybe even better! I can still suck the chrome off a trailer!"
"Then you'd better get used to the taste of metal," Cheryl gave her a look. "You know? Because sucking actual chrome off actual trailers might be the only action you get."
"I can still get plenty!" Mallory shouted.
"Ms. Archer…" Pam sighed. "Think back to when you were a younger woman. I know it was a long time ago…"
"A long time ago!" Cheryl added. "A long, long, long, long, long, long, long…"
"I get it!" Mallory snapped.
Cheryl went on. "Long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long…."
Mallory slapped her. "Idiot!"
"Ooooh!" Cheryl purred with delight as she rubbed her sore cheek. "Thank you…"
"As I was saying…" Pam sighed.
"It's good to be polite to your elders," Cheryl twisted the knife.
To this Mallory slapped her again. "EEEEEEEE!" Cheryl squealed with glee.
"Don't engage her!" Pam snapped. "That's what she wants!"
"I forgot all right?" Mallory snapped.
"Maybe you have Alzheimer's?" Cheryl said cheerfully. "You know because you're so…"
Mallory lost her temper again and slapped Cheryl. "OLD!" Cheryl chimed gleefully. "Old! Old! Old! Old!"
Mallory made an aggravated noise and prepared to slap Cheryl again. "Ms. Archer!" Pam warned. "Let me handle this."
Pam then punched Cheryl hard in the jaw, knocking her unconscious and onto the floor.
"Thank you," Mallory sighed.
"As I was saying," Pam went on. "Think back to when you were younger and hot. How many older guys with wealth and power did you nail in order to get what you wanted?"
"Ballpark figure?" Mallory paused. "Let's just say I hit a lot of home runs in the majors."
"Uh huh," Pam nodded. "And I'm guessing a lot of these guys were like what? In their sixties and seventies?"
"A few," Mallory admitted with a shrug. "And one surprisingly agile millionaire in his eighties. I got some great jewelry from him."
"And how many of these older guys either had a wife or some other girlfriend that was older than you?" Pam asked.
"Uh…" Mallory blinked. "Well…a lot of them were widowers…"
"And how many women did you shove out of the way to get to those guys?" Pam asked. "And were most of them older than you?"
"Uh oh…" Mallory blinked.
"Yeah, uh oh…" Pam folded her arms. "And now you're in the exact same position those women were in all those years ago. And now some other young bitches are horning in on your territory. Get what I'm saying here?"
"It's called karma," Cheryl slurred as she had woken up and slumped back into her seat. "What goes around comes around!"
"And since you've already been around the block more times than the ice cream man," Pam added. "There's a new batch of bitches in twenty one different flavors just waiting to let those rich dudes try out!"
"I see your point," Mallory sighed. "However…We're in LA now…So…"
"So the problem will be twenty times worse!" Pam snapped. "This is Hollywood Ms. Archer! A town where a woman is pretty much considered over the hill when she turns 40!"
"In some cases, 35," Cheryl added. "And let's face it Ms. Archer. You are way over 35. Way, way, way…"
"I get the message!" Mallory snapped. "Look, I've been hearing the whole sexist crap my whole life! I've beaten it before when I opened up my own agency!"
"And we all know how that ended," Pam groaned.
"What's your point exactly?" Mallory snapped.
"Maybe you should change your game plan a little?" Pam suggested. "Not hit on every hot guy you see? Play a little hard to get."
"Instead of hard to get away from," Cheryl added.
"Be a little more subtle and discriminating," Pam suggested.
"Subtle and discriminating?" Cheryl snorted. "From the woman who eats anything off the floor right in front of her co-workers! Despite repeated pleas from all of us not to?"
"Not to mention known for having sex with anything with a pulse!" Mallory snapped. "And I suspect in a few cases without one…"
"Well I did you didn't I?" Pam folded her arms.
"Burn!" Cheryl cheered.
"What are you laughing at?" Mallory glared at Cheryl.
"You. Because you're old and clueless!" Cheryl said cheerfully.
"Again. Don't engage her," Pam rolled her eyes. "My point is you need a different game plan."
"What she needs is a complete overhaul," Cheryl snickered.
"Look," Mallory glared at them. "Just because I have a few grey hairs…"
"A few?" Cheryl laughed. "The old grey mare, she ain't what she used to be…"
"Okay so my hair is grey!" Mallory snapped. "Besides age is just a number!"
"In your case a really big number," Pam pointed out.
"The old grey mare is gonna be turned to glue!" Cheryl sang cheerfully. "Gonna be turned to glue! Gonna be turned to glue!"
"That's it!" Mallory snapped. "The day I take advice from you two twits is the day I officially check myself into the Betty Ford Center! Which is never going to happen! I'm Mallory Archer damn it! I'm one of the most desirable women in the world!"
"You were one of the most desirable women in the world…" Cheryl corrected.
"Shut up Snifferella!" Mallory snapped as she stood up. "I am Mallory Freaking Archer! Men have killed just to go on a date with me! And I'm not talking figuratively. So believe me when I say to you two whore-diots…BUTT OUT!"
"Well…" Pam sighed as Mallory stomped away. "At least we tried…"
"Try not eating a bear claw sometime," Cheryl snickered.
To this Pam responded by knocking her out again with one swift punch.