Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Eh. Potato, po-dildo.

Archer. What, Lana?

You're not rolling him up in one of my rugs.

So, what, Mother shot herself? Oh, my God, Lana.

Thanks, Holly Hindsight.

Can't or won't?

BOTH: Don't ask. Just get it out of here, please.

And then somebody get me a number 10 can of tomatoes.

Oh, my God. So you're saying Mother lured Mascalzone up there...

I thought you meant that silly French maid costume.

...for the work I do all year keeping up the building.

You're saying the fact that your gun has recently been fired is--

CYRIL: Oh, shut up, ma'am. ARCHER: Loved it.

Anyway, Savio was in Italian intelligence--

Eh. On our way home, we simply drop the parcels...

Don't act like you've never seen a marital aid before.

Ooh! Who's that, some mobster'?

What then? Burn the apartment down?

Ha-ha-ha. Which is what I'm doing. I'm laughing.

Well, say what you will about him... I did.