The disclaimer telling you that I don't own any Archer characters….
Has taken a break. This is just some madness from my tiny mind. Takes place right after Carpool Craziness.
A Creative Use Of The Pause
"Hey guys," Lana walked into the Figgis Agency bullpen. She had some packages in her arms. "I got some pastry from across town!"
"Hooray!" Pam cheered. She and Ray were on the couch.
"I'm amazed you didn't grab the pastries from my hands," Lana blinked as she put them down on the table.
"I would have," Pam admitted. "But there's an eating challenge I want to try tonight so I'm skipping some snacks. It's Big Ron's Ravioli Rumble! Ten different kinds of raviolis in one hour!"
"She'll probably be done in 45 minutes," Ray said.
"If I win," Pam said. "I'll not only get a T-Shirt but free frozen Ravioli for a year! Whoo hoo!"
"I thought you were done with eating challenges?" Lana asked as she went to get herself some coffee.
"Hey you know what they say," Pam said. "When you fall off the bull, you get back up and barbecue that sucker!"
"How did distributing flyers go?" Ray asked.
"Not that bad," Lana admitted as she went to get some coffee. "I managed to sneak a couple into a few grocery store bulletin boards. And I gave a couple to some Mormons. They did not appreciate the irony."
"What did you do with the rest of them?" Ray asked.
"Let's just say one homeless guy now has a very colorful dumpster," Lana admitted. "Apparently it's halfway decent insulation."
"Even I've been throwing them out lately," Pam admitted. "And I'm the one printing them."
"I've been making paper airplanes out of them and throwing them out the window," Ray admitted. "I've gotten really good at it."
"So, did I miss anything this morning?" Lana asked as she sat down.
"Eh," Ray shrugged.
"So no," Lana remarked. "Big shock. God the traffic was a nightmare today!"
"Tell me about it," Ray sighed.
"Even knowing about the environmental protests, it took me forever to get around," Lana said.
"Thanks a lot for the head's up about that," Pam snapped.
"I assumed you watched this new thing called the news," Lana told her. She then noticed Cheryl passed out on another couch. "Speaking of which."
"Cheryl's out for the day," Pam said. "Krieger knocked her out."
"Okay," Lana sipped her coffee.
"You don't even want to ask why?" Ray asked.
"It's Cheryl," Lana gave him a look. "I can draw my own conclusions. Now that I think about it, the day goes by a lot smoother when she's unconscious."
"It does, doesn't it?" Ray agreed.
"Well congratulate me!" Cyril walked into the room with a grin. "I just turned a twenty-five-minute consulting call into a two hour and forty-seven-minute consulting call. Which is legally a three-hour consulting call. At two hundred dollars an hour…I just made this agency six hundred dollars! Go Figgis!"
"How did you do that?" Lana asked.
"Did you talk dirty to the secretary or something?" Pam asked.
"No!" Cyril snapped. "I just used some very creative pauses."
"Creative pauses?" Lana asked. "What the hell is a creative pause?"
FLASHBACK! FIFTEEN MINUTES INTO THE CONSULTING CALL!
Cyril was on the phone in his office. "Yes, I agree with that statement. Hang on. I'm getting another call. I'll be right back." He put the phone down. He turned on a nearby tape recorder playing very catchy music. Then he went to read the newspaper.
FIVE MINUTES LATER…
Cyril turned off the tape recorder and picked up the phone.
"Sorry about that," Cyril remarked. "Another client. Rather pushy one actually. So, where were we? Right. Yes. Yes. I agree. No, I don't think you can use that as a deductible. Unless you can prove you used it for business reasons."
Cyril remarked. "Yes, yes I can definitely…" He partially cupped his hand over the phone. "What? What do you mean the Tunt Corporation is on line one? Again? What do they want now? I'm with a client? They want to know about any new organizations they can donate money to? Hang on."
Cyril spoke into the phone. "Sorry about that. Actually, I have another client that may be interested in your cause. Have you heard of the Tunt Corporation? You have? Well I happen to know the CEO. Yes. I think I might be able to put in a word with them. Can you give me a few minutes? I might be able to talk them into at least hearing you out. Okay fine. I will be right back."
Cyril put the phone down and turned on the tape recorder, playing more catchy music. He went back to his newspaper.
TEN MINUTES LATER…
Cyril looked at his watch and then turned off the tape recorder. He picked up the phone. "Sorry again about that," He said. "Good news, I have one of the Tunt's general managers on conference call. A Mr. Eugene Peppersmith. Mr. Peppersmith would love to talk to you about this. I'm going to transfer your call to him for a moment. Hold please."
Cyril held the phone to the tape player. He played the music for about five seconds then turned it off. He then spoke into the phone using a very deep Southern accent, completely disguising his voice. "This is Eugene Beauregard Peppersmith here. General Manager and Head of Finances, Acquisitions and Charities. Yes. Yes. Mr. Figgis mentioned about your organization. Please. Feel free to tell me everything about it. Everything. In great detail. Oh yes I have plenty of time."
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER…
"Yes, I find that very interesting," Cyril was still in character. "Very interesting indeed Sir. I tell you what, your proposal for a new state or two is something I can personally get behind. I will have to pass this on to my bosses but I think I might be able to persuade them. In fact, can you hang on for a moment? I see one of my colleagues in the hallway. Just want to give him a hollah about your fine organization. Hold please."
Cyril then took out the tape in the tape player and turned it around carefully. Then he pushed play, for different more soothing music to come out. He went back to his newspaper.
FIVE MINUTES LATER…
Cyril stopped the tape player. He went back into character. "Hello? Peppersmith here. I was just jawin' with some of my colleagues and they sounded very interested. Yes, very interested. Here is one of my colleagues. A Mr. Stapler. John Stapler."
FLASHFORWARD!
"John Stapler?" Lana did a double take. "They actually bought that?"
"Turns out they have a man on their team named Hamilton Burger," Cyril explained. "Friends call him Ham."
"Hamilton Burger?" Pam blinked. "Ham Burger?"
"John Stapler wasn't that much of a stretch," Cyril shrugged. "Anyway…"
FLASHBACK…
"John Stapler here," Cyril had changed his voice to a very stuffy nasal New York accent. "Hmm. Yes. Yes. I was just talking with Mr. Peppersmith. It does sound interesting. Hang on. I'm going to my office where we can talk in private. I'd like to hear more about this. If you can wait five minutes. Excellent. I'll put Peppersmith on."
Cyril paused then changed his voice again. "Peppersmith here. I'll direct your call to Stapler's office. By the way could you do me a favor and send some of your literature directly to the Figgis Agency? Well our boss likes to hang around there a lot and it's easier to send her the literature there if we want her to read it. Either there or the bar! Am I right? Ha! Ha! Well it's good talking to you! Hope to hear more from you in the future! I'll put you on hold. Stapler will be there in a spell. Bye y'all."
Cyril then turned on the tape player again and put the phone down. "I should have been an actor," Cyril remarked quietly when he got up to go to the bathroom.
FLASHBACK!
"Hang on again," Lana spoke up. "Why did you ask for literature to be sent to this office?"
"To make it look good!" Cyril told her. "Plus, we might need it in the future if we want to scam Sleeping Gluey over here." He pointed to Cheryl.
"That's actually a good idea," Lana said.
"Smart," Pam nodded. "Especially for you."
"You know?" Cyril snapped.
"Wait what happened after that?" Lana asked.
"I gave them a five-minute hold," Cyril said. "Then I had them explain again why they wanted California to be two or more states to John Stapler. Which took about another thirty-five minutes."
"That's only about two hours and five minutes," Ray realized. "How did you get the last forty-two?"
"That's where I had to get really creative," Cyril sighed.
FLASHBACK!
"Yes, I'm glad you were able to talk to those people at the Tunt Corporation," Cyril was on the phone in his office again. "So, there's just one or two more things we need to go over…Oh we covered everything? Are you sure?"
He looked at the clock and made a face when he realized he had only been on the phone for two hours and five minutes. Then he had an idea. "Well you can't be too careful when it comes to legalities. That reminds me, how's Ham's lawsuit against his mother-in-law going? Really? How the hell did he lose two lawyers? You have got to tell me this story."
TEN MINUTES LATER…
"Well that is some story," Cyril spoke into the phone. "I tell you that Ham gets into a lot of funny situations. You have any other stories about him? Some other time…"
"Yes of course," Cyril nodded. "Hang on I just need to check something. I got an e-mail from Mr. Peppersmith. Hang on. He loved the meeting by the way."
He quickly calculated some figures. He ended up writing NEED THIRTY MORE MINUTES TO LEGALLY BILL FOR THREE HOURS!
"Damn it!" Cyril snapped. "I mean…Not for you! Well maybe for you…I just saw…An ad for a counter protest group against your organization. Yes! That is exactly the name of that organization! Oh nothing. It's just those kooks are calling you guys a bunch of kooks!"
"Really?" Cyril said. "They've been a pain in your ass for years? Tell me all about it! Maybe I can get a court case out of it? No, no. Start from the beginning. Take as much time as you need."
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER…
"No, I don't think you have a case for defamation," Cyril sighed into the phone. "Maybe the other group has a case considering what Ham did in that glass elevator? They haven't sued for that, yet right? Oh, good. Uh huh. Hang on. I just want to double check a couple of statures. Maybe you can sue and get some money? Just give me a few minutes. I'll be right back!"
He turned on the tape recorder again and put the phone by it. As the music played, Cyril moved to the other end of the room so that the people on the phone wouldn't hear him.
"Okay Figgis," Cyril said to himself. "You only have fifteen minutes to go. Ten if you can stretch this pause to five. Think! Think! I've got it! Get him to talk about his family. That always fills up time! And if that fails…"
He saw some objects on the shelf and took them out. "I think I can make this work. Anything for an extra two hundred dollars. I wonder if this is how hookers feel?"
Cyril waited a couple minutes more. As he did so he carefully placed the objects on the desk. And took out another tape. He picked up the phone. "I'm back."
Cyril cautiously replaced the tape with another one. "Well I looked at your case. In fact, I am looking at the law right now. And I can say…Without any doubt. That the answer to your question…About suing that other organization. Which does not support your cause of separating California into two pieces…Or is it three? Right. Well your question. Which you asked. The answer iiiiiiiissssssss definitely…. positively…. Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnoo."
Cyril paused. "Yes, I'm afraid not. Say how's the family? The wife and kids?"
Cyril frowned. "Oh. I see. The wife left and the kids won't. Yikes. Uh huh. Uh huh. Yeah that's a good as reason as any to stay at the winery for a few extra hours."
"Speaking of which," Cyril noticed he had ten minutes left. "Are there any questions you have left? Any at all? Doesn't have to be specifically related to the ballot question. It can be any legal question. Does anyone need legal advice? Ham for example? He sounds like he could use a good lawyer. Oh. Okay. Well any other questions?"
"Not even a parking ticket? Oh. I see. Nobody really drives much in your group anymore. I see. Well what about the people who drive them? Do they need any legal counsel?"
"Okay well if you don't have any more questions," Cyril paused. "There is one final thing I would like to go over. If you…"
He then knocked on the desk. "Hang on," Cyril sighed. "My assistant is at the door. Come in!"
Cyril then carefully got up out of his seat and made his way around to the other side of the desk. He muffled his mouth and made some high-pitched sounds as if he was talking. He went back to his desk making sure he could be heard on the phone. "One of our very important clients got arrested?" Cyril acted scandalized. "Who? Or is it whom?"
Cyril went around the desk and did his imitation of a muffled female assistant. Cyril went back to the desk. He looked at some objects on his desk to get inspiration. "Mr. Stampfolder got arrested again? What did he do this time?"
Cyril once again went around and did the muffled imitation. Then he went back to his desk. "Well how did he get that motorcycle on the high dive in the first place? Never mind! I'll ask him later! Right now, I am on the phone with a very important client!"
Cyril once again did the muffled imitation. Then quickly went back to his desk. "Well he's just going to have to wait a few minutes. I have to finish this call. He's in jail, he's not going anywhere anytime soon. Tell him I will go down to the police station after I finish with Mr. Bill. I mean Bill Davidson."
Cyril once again did his imitation and then went back to the desk. "In a few minutes! Yes! Thank you!"
Cyril spoke into the phone. "I am so sorry Mr. Davidson. It's one of my other clients. Yes, you know the type. People with more money than brains. I mean he gets himself into the craziest…"
Cyril paused. "Is he one of the San Fernando Stampfolders? I don't know. Really? You have two of them in your organization? Two Stampfolders. Stanley and Beverly Stampfolder. What a small world. I see…Uh…Do either of them do business with the Tunts? Oh, they don't. Then no, those are not those Stampfolders. It is a surprisingly common name isn't it?"
"As I was saying Mr. Davidson," Cyril coughed. "The thing I wanted to ask you is…"
Cyril knocked on the table again. "In a minute!" Cyril called out. "As I was saying Mr. Davidson…"
Cyril then went around and this time made a muffled deep man's voice. He went back to his desk. "What? What happened now?"
Once again Cyril went around and did a muffled response. He went back to his desk. "Audited? I told Mr. Smith that he was putting too many deductibles on his tax return."
Cyril went around and did another muffled response. He went back to the desk. "Tell him to come in tomorrow around 10 AM for an appointment. Hang on."
Cyril pushed a small keychain that made a boop noise. "Cheryl, how does my 10 AM look? Really? How about 10:30? Fine. Schedule an appointment for Mr. Smith for 10:30."
Cyril pushed the keychain again. "Tell Mr. Smith to come in at 10:30."
Cyril went around and did a muffled response. Then he quickly slid back. "Fine. That's good. What? What's that?"
He did his imitation again before sliding back into his seat. "Oh. I don't know. How about a turkey sandwich? Wheat bread. Tell them light on the mayo this time. And an apple instead of chips. Got to try and lower my sodium intake."
Cyril slid out of his seat. Did a quick muffled imitation before walking to the door and slightly slamming it before going back into his seat.
"I am so sorry about all these interruptions," Cyril spoke into the phone. "It's very busy this time of year. By the way did you know my agency also does tax returns? Or helps with tax problems? Okay."
"Don't suppose you know anyone else that could use…? Okay just asking." Cyril frowned as he saw he needed more time.
"As I was saying the thing, I wanted to discuss with you…" Cyril began when he pushed the keychain again. But this time a siren noise was heard.
"Oh crap," Cyril said into the phone. "There's another car chase on our street. Ugh they are so annoying. I hate it when they use our street to block off traffic to catch the guy."
Cyril turned on the tape player again. This time it had sounds of traffic honking. "Look at that," Cyril said. "Some nut is just weaving up and down the road. And the cops are on his tail. Life in LA huh?"
"Yeah I know that's why you don't live here," Cyril nodded. "What? Speak up! I can't hear you? What? Sorry! I've been meaning to invest in soundproof windows. But you would not believe how expensive they are!"
Then the sound of a crash was heard from the tape. "There they go! Right into the building across the street," Cyril sighed. "If I've seen it once I've seen it a hundred times. Oh, now the idiots are trying to escape on foot. That never ends well."
"And the cops are chasing them," Cyril pretended to describe the scene. "There's two of them. One of them is trying to jump over a trash can. He's fallen over the trash can. His buddy is leaving him behind. Typical. I think the cop is going to get him. No. He just got his pants. He's running around without pants. The other one tried to run down an alley but he's blocked off by another cop. The cop grabbed him. No, wait! He got away! But now he lost his pants!"
"There are two people just running around without pants. I know! It's another day in LA!"
"Now the two suspects are just running around in circles and the cops are following them. They are literally running in circles. Now they're running in a figure eight! Now diagonally!"
"Hang on, they're bringing out the taser! They missed! But it distracted one of the suspects long enough for him to run right into a sign. He's down! Suspect down! They got him! No wait, wait…He's trying to throw one of the policemen off! He's bucking him like a bronco! Oh, he's down now. They just got a fatter policeman to sit on him."
"One suspect down! The other one just running around. Without his pants. And some little old lady fainted!"
The tape played the sound of an ambulance. "And now an ambulance has come by to check on the old lady," Cyril went on. "They got the taser again! And they got him! They got him good! You should see him twitch!"
"Oh no! Oh no! That cop should not have tried to arrest that suspect while he was still attached to the taser! Especially not with metal handcuffs. Yikes!"
"Oh, good news!" Cyril said. "The old lady is okay! The suspects look a little winded. And that one police officer."
The tape played a tune from a marching band next. "And apparently there's a marching band on the street," Cyril gulped. "Oh no wait, it's just the music class down the block getting out." He turned off the tape. "I forgot that they had one of those on our block."
He then noticed the clock. "Well that was exciting. Oh yes, I just remembered the one thing I needed to talk to you about. My bill. Let's just round it up to three hours. That's right. That's exactly what you owe me. I do accept checks and…"
Cyril knocked on the desk again. "Hang on! What is it now?"
Cyril jumped up and did his male mumbled impersonation. Then he went back to the desk. "What do you mean Mr. Stampfolder is on the roof? Our roof? Oh right, his roof! Again! Fine I will talk him down! Sorry I'll just send you the bill, Bill. I mean Mr. Stampdavids…I mean Mr. Davidson! Talk to you again very soon Mr. Davidson! Good bye!"
Cyril hung up the phone and let out a breath. "And people say I don't earn my money around here!"
FLASHFORWARD!
"They bought that?" Lana asked.
"We live in LA," Cyril said. "Not that big a stretch."
"That's true," Ray nodded.
"Wait, wouldn't this group notice if it's not on the news?" Lana asked.
"This group's headquarters is in a winery in Napa Valley," Cyril said. "They spend more time wrapping bottles in newspapers than reading them. Trust me, they won't figure it out. Plus, Mr. Davidson thought it was exciting."
"You know what would be really exciting?" Ray asked. "If they ask for an actual meeting with either of those people you just made up!"
"I thought of that too," Cyril waved. "If they ask for a face to face meeting, I'll just say they were either fired, had a heart attack or in jail. It's the Tunt Corporation for crying out loud! They'll buy it!"
"Those things do seem to happen every other week," Pam admitted.
"Why didn't you just make up a third person to listen to their proposal?" Ray asked.
Cyril looked at him. "Oh, now that would have been insane! Besides I already heard the whole song and dance twice! And trust me, it wasn't that riveting the first time around. Or coherent. They really should cut back on the drinks."
"I have to admit Cyril," Ray said. "I'm really impressed. You're a conniving little shyster, aren't you?"
"I try," Cyril shrugged. "Now if we can get a few more gullible idiots we might actually make some real money around here."
"Well," Ray looked at a sleeping Cheryl. "We have one right here."
"True," Cyril nodded. "Anybody want to go buy a whole lot of stuff on Nile Prime using her credit card?"
"I'm in," Pam spoke up.
"Me too," Ray nodded.
"Won't Cheryl notice?" Lana asked.
"Not as long as we order some rubber cement and stickers," Cyril waved.
"Why not?" Lana sighed as they got up. "There are some books and clothes I want AJ to have."
"And some boots you want to have?" Ray teased.
"I'm not going to say no," Lana admitted. "Wait, don't we need Cheryl's card?"
"No, I've got it pre-programmed in," Cyril waved. "How do you think I've been replacing the office furniture that gets broken around here every other day?"
"I wondered about that," Ray realized.
"I've been wondering how we stay in business," Lana quipped.