Pam drank the disclaimer that I don't own any Archer characters. Just more pointless madness from my tiny little mind as it wonders what the gang did while Archer was in a coma. Still is in a coma technically…Apparently there were…
Days of Tequila And Bearclaws
"Oh for the love of Christ," Cyril groaned. "Not again!"
Pam was passed out on the couch wearing only a blue bra and a blue pair of panties. And a sombrero on her head. Cheryl was on the floor wearing only a pink bra and a pair of panties. There were some empty bottles scattered around as well as half eaten food and empty bottles.
"Well at least they're here at work on time," Ray remarked to the rest of the Figgis Agency who had gathered in the bullpen.
Mallory looked like she was going to give a scathing remark when she suddenly realized. "Dear God you're right! Somebody wake up Sleeping Fatty and Dopey!"
"I'm on it," Krieger opened a box. It was full of bearclaws.
Pam sat up quickly. "Bearclaws?"
"Bearclaws," Krieger handed her one.
"Bearclaws! Nom! Nom! Nom!" Pam started eating.
"I take it you had a fun night?" Cyril glared at her.
"Obviously better than yours," Pam snorted as she took a bite. "Even with this killer hangover."
"Pam, you have been drinking a lot more than usual lately," Lana said in a worried tone.
"And you've been more of a nag than usual lately," Pam quipped.
"I'm serious Pam," Lana told her. "Ever since Archer went into a coma you've been having more drinking binges than usual."
"It's affecting your work!" Mallory snapped.
"What work?" Ray looked at her.
Mallory paused. "Point taken."
"You know Archer isn't the only reason I was drinking!" Pam said indignantly. "Admittedly part of the reason. But only twenty-five to thirty percent tops!"
"You had other reasons to drink?" Cyril asked.
"Like what?" Ray snorted. "Two for One Night at Pita Margaritas and Cheryl was buying?"
"No smart ass," Pam sniffed. "I was thinking about a lot of things."
"Like what?" Mallory snapped. "How tight your clothes are getting because you're getting fatter?"
"Like my mom's death!" Pam snapped. "Snipe your way out of that one bitch!"
"Oh," Mallory for once looked apologetic.
"Yeah it was like around this date my mom passed away," Pam sniffed. "Lou Gehrig's Disease. Really loved that woman. Damn great gal. Even if she did like my sister. And that kind of got me thinking how sucky my life has been lately. You know? Dying alone and all that shit."
"Jesus," Ray winced. "Depressing much?"
"Then I also thought about my uncle Sal," Pam sniffed. "He was my second uncle on my Dad's side. He worked nights at the rendering plant. Always smelled like death but had the best tailgate parties. Anyway, Uncle Sal worked at that plant all his life. Thirty years. Always said that he was going to retire and move away to Florida. It was his dream. Then the day before he retired…There was an accident. He drowned in a giant vat of hog fat."
"Oh my," Lana gasped.
"He worked and worked all his life," Pam sniffed. "And before he ever got a chance to actually enjoy his life it got snuffed outta him. I just don't want to end up like him. You know? That's why I suck the dick of life every chance I get. Cause once you're gone…"
"Pam," Mallory was stunned. "I had no idea you felt like that."
"Me too," Krieger blinked.
"I'm a lot more complex and complicated than you people give me credit for," Pam told them. "I have feelings and issues. And I have plenty of valid emotional reasons why I drink!"
Cheryl sat up. "But mostly it was Two for One Night at Pita Margaritas. And I paid."
"Like I was going to pass that up!" Pam protested to the groans of everyone else.
"So that whole little speech was basically just bull shit?" Lana groaned.
"Only eighty percent of it technically," Pam shrugged as she chomped into a bear claw. "I mean I do feel those things. I just don't dwell on them."
"I almost felt sorry for her," Mallory groaned. "I actually almost felt sorry for her!"
"Oh like you wouldn't grab any opportunity to get any money and booze outta Cheryl?" Pam snapped.
"Yeah!" Cheryl added.
Mallory shrugged. "Point taken."
"This is as good as a segway we will get to start the meeting," Cyril sighed.
"Ooh! Idea for a new source of revenues!" Krieger spoke up. "Segways! We create and rent Segways!"
Lana snapped. "If it's anything like that damn jet pack you were screwing around with a while ago, forget it!"
"Lana, I know where I went wrong the last time," Krieger said.
"I know where I went wrong," Mallory glared. "The day I took you from Brazil! I should have left you there to drive your father crazy! Or better yet, let those Dobermans kill you too!"
"Krieger, we are not letting you rent or sell rocket powered Segways," Cyril groaned.
"Technically they're not rocket powered," Krieger pointed out.
"I just don't want another Krieger Springs fiasco!" Cyril snapped. "Or a jetpack fiasco!"
"Or a machine gun in Mallory's desk fiasco," Lana added.
"Or a Fisto Roboto fiasco," Ray added. "Or the hovercar fiasco."
"Or a Red Kriegtober fiasco," Pam added.
"Technically that last one was a boondoggle," Krieger pointed out. "Not really a fiasco."
"Potato, po-fiasco-o!" Mallory snapped. "I need a drink! Where the hell did I put that Grand Cru?"
"You mean this?" Cheryl waved an empty bottle.
"Damn it you idiots!" Mallory snarled. "Do you know how expensive that is?"
"Do you know how much your alcohol addiction is draining our budget?" Cyril shouted at Mallory. "How many times have I told you to not use company funds to buy expensive alcohol for yourself?"
"Technically it wasn't all going to be for myself," Mallory admitted. "I was planning on letting Sterling have a sip when he wakes up. If he didn't dick around and take too long to wake up."
"We're not exactly thriving Mallory," Lana said. "The money we got from being mourners at Ellis Crane's funeral didn't even fully pay for my groceries that week!"
"You think that's bad?" Mallory snapped. "After the latest real estate fiasco Ron cut my budget in half! I had to resort to severe cost cutting measures!"
"Oh, what did you do?" Ray asked sarcastically. "Settle for fake fur instead of genuine ermine?"
"I can't even afford to buy a new fur!" Mallory glared at him. "Unless I go out into the woods and shoot it myself!"
"I could show you how to skin it," Pam spoke up.
"Me too," Ray and Krieger said at the same time.
"Jinx!" Ray said cheerfully to Krieger. "You owe me a drink!"
"Aw man," Krieger pouted.
"I had to buy wine in a box!" Mallory shouted. "HAPPY?"
"Yes," Cheryl giggled.
"Mallory Archer had to buy wine in a box," Ray said dryly. "What has the world come to?"
"I know," Mallory groaned. "Although I must admit it tasted a lot better than I thought it would. But that's beside the point."
"The point of this meeting," Cyril snapped. "Is to figure out how we are going to make money. Before this meeting ends up like all our other meetings. With screaming, yelling, something getting destroyed and all of us going off to a bar."
"Something doesn't always get destroyed," Krieger told him.
"My will to stay sober gets destroyed," Ray told him.
"Oh," Krieger blinked. "I didn't know we were counting that."
"Mama…" AJ toddled in carrying a stuffed toy ocelot. "Mama…"
"Oh AJ," Lana sighed as she picked her up. "I told you to stay in my office."
"Not my super-wiser," AJ said.
Lana glared at Cheryl who was getting up. "Thank you very much Cheryl for teaching my child that!"
"You're welcome!" Cheryl said cheerfully. "Now where the hell did I put my clothes?"
"Why the hell is AJ out of school again?" Mallory shouted. "What happened this time? Another fire?"
"Teacher workshop day," Lana explained.
"Didn't they have one of those last week?" Mallory snapped.
"No," Lana sighed. "Last week was teacher accreditation day. Apparently, there's this thing where teachers have to earn so many credits a year to renew their licenses so…"
"Let me guess," Mallory grumbled. "They also have to pay for that. The Department of Education is just one big racket, isn't it?"
"I feel once again we're going off track here," Cyril sighed. "We need to get more clients and find new sources of revenue for the agency. Any thoughts?"
"I'm going to put AJ back in my office," Lana sighed. "Cheryl, Pam put some clothes on!"
"You're not my supervisor!" Cheryl snapped.
"You're not my super-wiser!" AJ cheered.
"She's copying me!" Cheryl stamped her foot.
"Copying me!" AJ cheered.
"Stop it!" Cheryl snapped.
"Stop it!" AJ copied.
"A real battle of wits here," Ray remarked.
"Okay that's enough!" Lana groaned as she took AJ away. "Let's find some nice cartoons where a mouse blows up a cat or something."
"Again…" Cyril sighed. "We need to think of ideas to make money."
"We could sell Lana's stupid evil little gross baby," Cheryl pouted. To this Pam slapped her. "OW!"
"Don't even joke about that bitch!" Pam snapped. "And where the hell are my clothes?"
"I think I found them," Ray picked something up. "Why did you tie them together in a bunch of knots?"
"I had plan…" Pam blinked. "I don't remember it but I had a plan…"
"Of course you did," Ray groaned. "Do you have a plan for getting dressed? Because this isn't gonna get untied anytime soon."
"Like the Gorgon's Knot," Mallory remarked.
"So? We'll just do what Alexander the Great did," Cheryl waved.
"He cut the damn thing with a sword," Cyril told her.
"Exactly," Cheryl shrugged.
"Then our clothes will get torn to shreds!" Pam snapped.
"A moot point," Mallory wrinkled her nose. "Given that they smell like cheap alcohol and vomit."
"Oh yeah," Cheryl remembered. "I threw up. On both of us…"
"I've got some spare clothes for both of you in my lab," Krieger waved. "I had them for your robot doubles. I'll get 'em." He left the room.
"Seriously," Cyril sighed. "We need to think of a plan. Mallory do you have any ideas?"
"I have an idea how to get you to stop calling me Mallory," Mallory sniffed. "But honestly it's too expensive to buy a rattlesnake at this time of year."
"As much as I'd love to hear the witty banter between you two lovebirds," Ray remarked. "Cyril does have a point. We need to find ways to make money…"
"We're not opening a gay bar, Ray," Lana said as she walked back in without AJ.
"Not that!" Ray snapped.
"Still…" Pam began.
"NO!" Mallory snapped.
"Sexist!" Pam snapped.
"As I was trying to say…" Ray sighed. "Since detective work doesn't seem to be our forte…"
"Understatement of the freaking year," Pam groaned. She looked around. "Anyone seen my shoe? I'm missing one."
"Why not transform our agency into a private security firm?" Ray asked. "Maybe become professional bodyguards or something like that?"
"Who the hell would hire us as bodyguards?" Pam snapped as she looked around the bullpen. "The last guy who hired us to protect him died!"
"A lot of people who hired us to protect them died," Lana admitted.
"Like that scientist guy we blew up and ended our careers as spies," Cheryl nodded. "Even though technically I was just a secretary."
"The world's worst secretary," Mallory glared at her. "Since Napoleon Bonaparte's secretary forgot to give him the weather report in Russia."
"I see what you're saying Ray," Cyril sighed. "But I don't think being exclusively bodyguards is going to help. In fact, our website mentions that we have bodyguard services."
"Which we failed," Pam added. "Miserably. Seriously. It's an orange shoe. How can I lose an orange shoe?"
"We need to figure out how to optimize our abilities," Cyril went on. "To be the best detective agency we can be."
"Cyril we're terrible at being detectives," Ray snapped. "I think this is the best we can be!"
"Oh, dear God," Mallory groaned. "Inspector Le Gay is right! We're the world's worst detective agency ever!"
"I can't even find my damn shoe," Pam grumbled.
"Mallory don't you think that's a little defeatist?" Lana asked.
"Does anyone think they know where one of the shoes to my feet are?" Pam added.
Ray then noticed something. "Is this it?" He picked up a pitcher full of half melted ice an orange shoe inside.
"Oh yeah…" Pam blinked. "Well at least it's not in the butter this time."
"Why would a shoe…?" Lana began.
"Lana trust me," Mallory interrupted her. "You don't want to know."
"Okay I've got some clothes here," Krieger walked in with some women's clothing.
"Quelle surprise," Mallory grumbled. "The Nazi Nutcase has women's clothing to spare."
"Okay I have told you this several times!" Krieger snapped. "I am a Nazi experiment! Technically not a Nazi! So, not a real Nazi. My father was a Nazi scientist but that doesn't mean I'm one. A Nazi. I am a scientist. But not a Nazi. Only an experiment carried out by Nazis. Big difference. Just thought I'd make that super clear here. I don't believe in that whole Master Race shit so…Not a Nazi."
"What about the time you made me goose step around the mansion for almost four damn hours?" Ray snapped.
"I don't really recall that," Krieger blinked. "But if I did I am sorry. I was obviously doing a lot of drugs and drinking. Blackout there. Don't remember that."
"Or you're not the original Krieger," Cheryl added.
"Was there ever an original Krieger?" Pam asked as she put on an orange dress.
"Look I just don't identify myself as a Nazi, okay?" Krieger snapped.
"What about all those robot and bionic experiments you do?" Cheryl asked as she put a blue dress on.
"Again, beneficial to all humanity!" Krieger snapped. "Some of my first patients were black! Why do you think I had such a surplus of black hands?"
"Some?" Lana blinked. "I know you did Conway Stern's bionic hand. And I'm assuming you probably replaced the other one by now."
"Uh, maybe?" Krieger coughed.
"That means definitely," Ray rolled his eyes.
"So who are your other patients?" Lana asked.
"What?" Krieger blinked.
"You said you had other patients that were black," Lana said. "Who are they?"
"What is this? The Nazi Inquisition here?" Krieger snapped. "This is Cyril's meeting! Not mine! Stop hogging the stage Lana! Cyril, go ahead with your ideas."
Cyril looked at him. "Actually, I am interested in who you've also given bionics to. Because odds are at least one of them is going to try and kick our ass for some reason!"
"So who are some of your clients Krieger?" Mallory growled.
"What? A man can't give back to our noble veterans who have lost everything?" Krieger snapped. "Or anybody with a couple hundred bucks?"
"You know what?" Cyril sighed. "Let's just put Krieger's bionics on the table for now. It sounds like a better money-making scheme than anything we've come up with so far. But from now on Krieger this agency gets a cut! Got it?"
"Aw man," Krieger pouted.
"Well that's one possible source of revenue," Ray sighed. "Maybe we can make some rich bitch a cyborg or something?"
"Like the Stepford Wives?" Lana asked. "The last thing we need to do is do a rip off of that! I hated that movie."
"Why?" Cheryl asked. "It was only rich white women that were being enslaved and turned into robots."
"And later rich white men in the half assed sequel," Pam added.
"I would have thought the irony would appeal to you," Cheryl remarked.
"Still…" Lana shuddered. "Women being programmed into perfect little dolls to serve and please their men. Scary concept for a movie."
"And incredibly flawed too," Pam said.
"What do you mean?" Cyril asked.
"Think about it stupid," Pam said. "It was the wives that were turned into young immortal robots. Not their husbands! One heart attack and boom! The hot wives get everything and they stay young!"
"I admit that was not too bright on the scientist's part," Krieger nodded.
"And that's him saying that," Ray pointed to Krieger.
"But they were programmed not to hurt their husbands," Lana said. "To please their men."
"Exactly!" Pam said. "They serve their husbands enough fatty dinners and heavy desserts. It's Heart Attack City!"
"Nothing in the prime directive about cholesterol," Krieger agreed.
"Pam's got a point," Mallory remarked. "Not to mention the wives were only programmed to serve and take care of their own husbands. Not each other's."
"All they have to do is make a pact like Robots on a Train," Cheryl added.
"Criss cross applesauce," Pam nodded.
"Oh," Cyril frowned. "When you put it like that, that is a huge flaw!"
"Should have thought of that when you were boning Cyborg Me huh?" Lana snapped.
"Oh, how long are you going to stay mad about that?" Cyril snapped. "Again, not the only one sleeping around with robot clones here!"
"No, but you were the one humping Stepford Lana every chance you got," Pam snapped.
"Again! Not the only one!" Cyril snapped. "We all know Archer would have done it in a heartbeat if he had the chance!"
"From what I saw on my security footage," Krieger spoke up. "He seemed to be really into the one who looked like himself. Just saying."
"Oh yeah," Ray nodded. "I could totally see him and his robot clone double teaming Robot Lana. Real Lana wouldn't let him. But definitely Robot Lana."
"And we all know he has a thing for vibrating vaginas," Pam nodded. "Not that I blame him…"
"Thank you!" Cyril said. "See Lana?"
"Oh, dear God," Mallory groaned. "Sterling would have done that by now!"
"But he didn't!" Lana snapped.
"Only because he's in a freaking coma!" Cyril snapped. "And let's not forget why he's there in the first place! Because he made you into a murder suspect as a joke! Helping Veronica Deane, who he slept with not even three days into your break! So, don't make me the bad guy here!"
"Cyril does have a point," Pam agreed. "What Archer did was really shitty."
"And really stupid," Cheryl added. "Where what Cyril did was only creepy and stupid."
"How did this topic get onto Archer?" Lana snapped.
"I'm sorry," Cyril asked sarcastically. "Isn't everything about Archer?"
"You guys have been kind of whiny about him lately," Cheryl agreed. "This is even more boring than fighting over Veronica Deane. Archer's in a coma and at death's door. I miss Archer. I want him alive. I want him dead. Coma. He could die. He could live. He's still in a coma. He's having a dream sequence. He's having another dream sequence. Coma. We get it! He's in a freaking coma! Let's move on!"
"I agree with Cheryl," Cyril said. "Let's move on!"
"Well excuse me for being upset that my only child is in a coma!" Mallory shouted.
"A child who you never told that you loved him!" Cheryl snapped. "In fact, you wished he was dead all the time. I bet you're disappointed in him about that too!"
"The only thing I am disappointed in Sterling right now is that he didn't kill you when he had the chance!" Mallory shouted.
"I'm just saying you're such a damn hypocrite!" Cheryl shouted.
"You are going to be dead if you keep talking like that!" Mallory pulled out her gun from her purse.
"Mallory put the damn gun away!" Cyril snapped. "You can't shoot Cheryl. She's our only paying client."
"Good point," Mallory said calmly. She then pointed the gun at Cyril.
"What the hell did I do?" Cyril yelled in a panicked voice.
"The damn robot!" Lana snapped.
"We're not shooting Cyril!" Ray snapped. "He's the only one of us with a legitimate PI license!"
"Also a good point," Mallory remarked. She then turned the gun on Ray.
"Now you're just being a bitch!" Ray snapped.
"Give me that!" Lana grabbed the gun from Mallory.
"Right," Mallory sighed in defeat. "Why waste bullets?"
"See?" Cyril snapped. "This is what we always do in meetings except for getting something done and accomplishing anything!"
"Yeah God forbid we do anything interesting while Archer is in a coma," Cheryl grumbled.
"You really want to start that again?" Lana snapped.
"God, you always take her side!" Cheryl pouted.
"I never take her side!" Lana snapped.
"Yeah you kind of do," Cheryl snapped.
"I'm going to the hospital to check on Sterling," Mallory sighed as she got up and left. "After I stop at a bar to get a drink."
"Good idea!" Pam chirped. "Let's all go to Patty's Pancake Palace! It's Waffle Wednesday! It is Wednesday, isn't it?"
"Yes, and we're also having a meeting," Cyril sighed. "That isn't going anywhere."
"Good then we can have waffles," Ray said. "Coming Lana?"
"On my…" Pam began.
"NO!" Everyone else shouted.
"Just say phrasing Pam," Cyril groaned. "Are you coming Lana?"
"Phrasing," Cheryl said cheerfully.
"No, I'm going to take my daughter…" Lana paused as she went to get AJ. "Someplace educational. Anyplace educational."
"Waffle Wednesday can be educational," Pam told her. "They make waffles from all over the world!"
"There's Brussels waffles," Cheryl spoke up. "Flemish waffles. Belgian waffles obviously. Liege waffles which is actually still Belgian waffles. Just made from a different area. Hong Kong waffles. Rolled waffles. Hot dog waffles. Waffles on a stick…"
"We get it Forrest Hump!" Ray snapped. "There's a lot of different kinds of waffles."
"They also have a damn good fried bearclaw," Pam grinned.
"A fried bearclaw?" Lana blinked. "I feel my blood sugar rising just hearing about it!"
"And there's a variety with tequila batter," Pam added. "Oh my god I could so go for a fried tequila battered bearclaw!"
"Me too!" Krieger grinned.
"So basically, the plan is to just go eat waffles all day?" Lana asked.
"Not all day," Pam shrugged. "I'm pretty sure there's either a bowling alley or a bar we could go to somewhere."
"The waffle place is near Alan's Alley," Ray said. "It's a gay bowling alley with a bar in it."
"Boy gay or girl gay?" Pam asked.
"Does it really matter to you?" Ray asked.
"No," Pam said. "Just making conversation."
"I am definitely taking AJ somewhere educational," Lana groaned as she went to get AJ. "I think the Children's Museum is half price today. Yeah. That definitely sounds saner."
"Your loss," Pam shrugged. "Come on Nerf Nuts! Let's all go nuts!"
"Ooh! Nuts on waffles!" Cheryl grinned.
"You are what you eat," Ray quipped.
Cyril sighed as he left with the others. "It's not the fact the fact we get drunk a lot surprises me anymore. It's when one of us remains sober that's a shocker!"