Original subtitles

Mount Quiquaran.

One of history's most lethal supervolcanos.

In 200 BC, a series of deadly eruptions

had decimated the local tribe.

So the elders turned to the great artisan Tiliktakorkatan,

who sculpted an offering to the gods...

the Molten Idol.

- It's beautiful. - And yet...

not so beautiful as you, love of my life,

keeper and tender-to of my loins.

I thought it'd be more impressive.

Because you have no appreciation for true beauty, Zane!

You know, legend has it that removing the idol

will cause Quiquaran to erupt.

'Tis true. But as we all know, legends...

are rarely... real.

Oh, fuck, I don't want to die!

Get the fuck out of the way!

I guess that legend was real.

Shut the fuck up, Zane.

Swooper, get us out of here!

No can do, boss.

That volcano's hotter than Andy Capp's wife

when he's been out at the pub all night.

Meet me on the other side of the jungle.

But that jungle's filled with...

Corpus floraria.

- The death flower. - The death flower.

Jesus, Zane, don't interrupt me.

That bird got bonked. Uh-oh.

Looks like the natives are restless.

Hello, I'm an attorney

representing the Mondonesian tribe.

We respectfully ask that you don't steal the Molten Idol

as it's a culturally sig...

We're off the hook!

And we'll never have to think about the questions

they were raising or ponder the ethics

of what we're doing ever again.

Power slide!

Everybody lay a patch or we'll be riding the pale horse.

Nobody understands your old-timey lingo.

That's horsefeathers!

Bella! Whip!

Don't panic, the death flower's poison

takes 30 minutes to set in.

There's a hospital with the antidote ten minutes from here.

Thank God. I wouldn't be able to live without you.

I can't die yet, babe.

I still haven't seen The Artis.

Oh, man, it looks so good.

I can't imagine a better movie will come out in 2011.

The current year? Yeah. I agree.

All right.

- Enough 2011 talk. - Zane.

What the hell are you doing?

Oh, I'm taking the idol.

It'll be my first acquisition as the new head arky of The Met.

But we work for the Smithsonian.

Not anymore, Rippy.

I'm sick of you treating me like shit.

What? You're the best inferior I've ever had.

I always tell you that!

Consider this my resignation.

Fuck that, you're fired.

Fine. Have fun paying my unemployment.

No, no, no, you quit, everyone heard it.

Follow that speedboat.

You sure? You don't look so good.

The important thing is the idol.

We have enough time to grab it

and get to the hospital.

Whip! Swooper, I'm out of whip range.

We got to get closer. Whip! Whip!

Almost got him.

Oh, I can't see anything.

Did you get the idol?

Yeah, I got it, babe.

I'm dying, Rip.

Goodbye, my love.

Tender-to of my loins.

No, I will not let you die.

I will not let you die!

It's been 12 years since Rip Digman

let his wife Bella die,

and in that time Rip's former assistant Zane Troy

has gone on to become the greatest arky in the world

while Rip, who was fired by the Smithsonian,

is now a has-been, a nobody,

a real "Where are they now?" situation.

I'm sorry to keep going on, my producer's telling me

we're running short and I need to stretch.

You have to wonder what Rip is even up to these days.

I mean, my guess, he's just sitting at home, jacking off.

Yes, jacking off.

And then crying because he feels

like he's somehow cheating on his dead wife,

whose death he was responsible for.

And then jizzing.

You know, one of those lame halfway ones

where you're somehow out of rhythm with yourself.

I don't know, maybe I'm projecting now.

Either way, the guy's a loser.

Morning, Agatha.

Any museums call for an arky?

No museum has called in ten years, Rip.

Well, excuse me for being hopeful!

There's no need to yell.

You're right. My many apologies.

You're just lonely.

You should start dating again.

Thanks, Agatha, but the only dating I'm interested in...

is carbon dating.

I cleaned your jeep, Rip.

Man, there sure were a lot of tear stains

on the steering wheel.

You must've been crying a lot.

Yeah, thanks, Swooper.

If anybody needs me, I'll be in my secret chamber.

You mean you're going into your private bathroom

for your morning dump.

No.

The Holy Grail.

The term people use to describe the coolest thing

in every other profession

is that thing in archaeology.

- Ooh, ooh. - Yes, Saltine?

Have you ever tried to find the Holy Grail?

Well, every shovel bum worth their salt has given it a shot.

But its location is archaeology's greatest mystery.

They say that just one sip from it can heal any ailment.

So, if someone in the class found it,

would we get extra credit?

- Yeah, sure. - Great.

No need to invite me to any parties

this weekend, classmates.

I've got plans.

Eat a pile of shit, nerd.

I'd rather sift through said shit

to discover secrets of the past.

Wow, you're awfully cheery, aren't you?

Why wouldn't I be?

I'm studying to be an arky,

the greatest job in the world.

Don't you ever miss it?

Of course I miss it.

The glory. The fame.

I yearn for it still.

Much like the wolf whelp yearns

for its mother's tough yet glossy teat.

But now I've been reduced

to the most degrading job there is.

Teaching.

Then maybe you shouldn't have killed your wife.

I didn't kill my wife! A bird did!

Another RumChata. Neat.

Professor, over here. It's me, the student you hate.

Oh, man. What are you doing here?

Okay, I was thinking about how sad you were in class,

so I started digging around,

and I know how you can become an arky again.

Quail Eegan.

The long-haired billionaire?

The very same. He's building a new museum

and he needs a head arky,

so he's holding a big competition to find one.

The whole thing kicks off tonight.

You. Should. Go.

Huh, an intriguing proposition.

Right? And you can bring me as your assistant arky.

Ha! No dice.

Rip Digman rolls solo.

But the arky union says you have to have an assistant.

Ugh. Stupid union coming up with stupid rules so I don't die.

But I'm still not going to hire you.

We don't even know each other.

I mean, I don't even know...

♪ If you like jazz ♪

I really don't. But I've wanted to be

- an arky all my life. - Okay.

- I'm an amateur inventor. - Okay.

- I love Latin. - Go on.

Or should I say "Amo linguam Latinam"?

Oh, yeah, I don't get it.

Oh, and my parents disowned me

because they hate archaeology.

♪ A de facto orphan. ♪

You spin a good yarn, kid,

but I'm still not sure we connect on a cosmic level,

at the base of the neural queue.

Avatar ref.

The event starts in 15 minutes

and you have to have an assistant.

You're hired.

Whoa. Every arky in the world is here.

Felix Cadbury, Kate Kwan, Indiana Jones.

And Zane Troy.

- Wow. - Ugh.

- Come on. - Sorry. I know he betrayed you,

but he's like the most famous person on Earth.

Oh, fuck, don't look. Don't look.

Rip Digman. I guess the rumors were true.

You have gotten fatter.

What are you doing here, Zane?

The Met not paying you enough?

I'm a businessman, Rip.

I have to keep my options open.

Besides, loyalty's overrated.

Well, yeah, I agree with that.

Wait, that was a reference to how you betrayed me.

-Saltine, punch this guy in the nuts. -What?

Forget it. You blinked. It's over.

- Sorry. - You know, Rippy,

we always did do great work together.

If you'd be interested in becoming partners

with a 50-50 split, give me a call.

Wait, really?

Oh, son of a bitch!

I'll just put it in this pocket, though.

No, don't keep it, Rip. It's an insult.

You must be new.

Rip can't throw anything away.

He's less of an arky and more of a hoarder.

That's never been diagnosed!

Ladies and gentleme, please welcome

Quail Eegan!

Showmanship.

Now, as you all know,

I'm the best at everything.

I've created the best electric car,

the best rockets, and the best hologram of myself.

But now I have my sights set even higher.

The Eegan.

Upon completion, it will be the largest museum in the world.

The only thing missing is...

A Froyo machine.

A collection.

And that's where all you come in.

I'm holding a contest.

Can anyone tell me what this is?

Ha! Too easy. That's Hammurabi's hat.

Rip Digman.

What a blast from the past.

Oh, the pleasure is mine.

Nothing personal. I swear. This one is the real me.

You won't be rid of me that easily.

But you're right, Rip.

4,000 years ago, Hammurabi conquered Mesopotamia.

All while wearing this hat.

But it has never been found.

And I want it as the centerpiece for my new museum.

Whoever brings it to me will be named head arky.

A position that comes with a generous salary

and hella bennies.

Now, let the competition begin!

And begin it shall.

Put 'er there.

I am in Iceland.

And you're clear.

Wow. They couldn't tell you were a hologram?

Yes, and neither could you.

Well, time for bed.

Move to your left, Shelly.

Aah! My ears are bleeding!

Our top story tonight:

Arkies across the globe

are competing to head up Quail Eegan's new museum.

Zane Troy is the odds-on favorite to win the job,

while Rip Digman is the favorite to accidentally

stumble off a cliff and die a horrific death.

Here's a sneak peek at his "in memoriam" segment.

Ugh, what the hell is that music?

Don't let them play that when I die.

This is so exciting.

I can't believe I'm an assistant arky.

Let's be clear. You're my temporary assistant.

If I get back in the game, I'll have my pick

of the top assistants in the biz.

What is that thing?

Saltine, meet Fleety, my fast loris.

I've heard of a slow loris but never a fast one.

What's the difference?

A raging addiction to methamphetamines.

So, Saltine, you ever heard of Wendell Banks?

He's that arky who went missing a couple years ago.

Precisely. Wendell was one of my many male mentors.

And what nobody knows but yo soy is that he actually went missing

while hunting for Hammurabi's hat.

Wendell was a bit of a warrior poet,

always leaving cryptic hints as to where he was going.

In fact, this is the last voice mail he left me.

My dear Rip, I'm off to find Hammurabi's ht

in a land where the sky is as blue as...

I can't make out what he was saying.

His hint was covered by the incessant squawking

- of a meridian warbler. - You're right, Rip.

That squawking was a meridian warbler.

But the balking was an Ecuadorian sea hawk.

My God. You're also right.

The other bird call was fucking tucked under there.

And there's only one place in the world

where their migratory patterns overlap.

Looks like we're headed... to Indonesia.

Yeah, he was here, but he didn't find any hat.

He did steal some ornamental robes, though.

Classic arky move.

Never leave a place empty-handed.

Did he say where he was going?

Yeah, a place where "water falls from on high,

like tears from the angel of sadness."

Looks like we're heading... to Venezuela.

He was here, but he didn't find a hat.

Stole a bunch of secret ceramics, though.

That's Wendell for you. So cool.

Did he say where he was going?

Something about "where haggling means hello

and Mehmet's merchants mingle"?

Looks like we're heading... to Istanbul.

Yep, he was here

and swiped our Byzantine sarcophagus.

Ha! I love that.

Rip, that's not good behavior.

He said he was hungry,

and I told him there's a Hardee's nearby.

Looks like we're heading... to Hardee's.

Asked for a water cup, then filled it with soda.

Did he say where he was going?

No, he didn't say the name.

Damn. After all that, a dead end.

But he did say the latitude was 22 degrees,

46 minutes, 54.8 seconds south.

And the longitude was 81 degrees, 45 minutes,

43.2 seconds east. Does that help?

No, that doesn't. Oh, no, wait, it does!

Rip, I'd like to show you

the first of what I like to call

Saltine's Cool Inventions.

Wow. Great name.

Voilà. It's a mirror that, when a cat looks into it,

it reflects the image of a lion.

I based it on a poster I had in my bedroom growing up

that had the caption,

"What matters most is how you see yourself."

So it reads your brainwaves

and shows you a reflection of your inner self?

Not at all. It can just tell when a cat

is looking at it and then it reflects the image of a lion.

Good night, Saltine.

Ah! No!

Have fun. I'll be here with the plane.

These mountain walls must block all radio waves

and satellite signals. We're in a true dead zone.

So they've never heard Stern?

And now we see how Wendell Banks met his fate.

Looks like a tiger got him.

He must have been cornered.

There's no way out of here. It's a dead end.

There's always a way,

even if you have to make it yourself.

- And here it is. - Oh, God.

It's filled with snakes.

Let me guess. You hate snakes?

- Nope, I love them. - Oh.

Yep, I love them, and I always have,

because I'm my own unique character.

- Okay. - I'm not based on anyone else.

- Didn't think you were. - And since I am legally

my own person who is not afraid of snakes,

I'll just reach into this alcove and move some of them aside.

Yep. Pardon me, nice snakes. Hi there.

And pull the lever.

Now you're on the trolley.

My God.

An untouched civilization.

These Neanderthals could be

a whole tribe of missing links.

And look.

I spy with my little arky eye

- Hammurabi's hat. - That's it.

Let's wait for them to fall asleep,

then we can sneak in...

And there he goes.

They somehow noticed me. Run!

Well, we're fucking dead.

Rip, look. They're all staring at the hat.

- Oh. - Put it on.

That's interesting.

Huh? Huh.

It almost seems like they won't attack

when I'm wearing the hat.

Yeah, when you're wearing it, they clearly worship you.

- Now let's get out of here. - Whoa, whoa, wait a minute.

They worship me?

Yes. Now let's go.

Actually, I want to hang here a while

- and-and see how this plays out. - What?

Rise, my people,

and gaze upon your glorious leader.

Oh, shit, man.

Saltine, check it. This cat knows English.

- Sup? - His name is Kurt.

Rip, this is crazy.

Let's just take the hat back to Eegan.

Wh-What's your hurry? We've got it made here.

Around-the-clock adulation, free refills on coconut water.

Plus, they're grinding up this emerald forest shit,

and it packs quite a wallop.

Wa-ha!

Okay, I get it. You're feeling good.

But we'll leave soon, right?

Sure. Or, hear me out, we never leave.

Hear me out. We live here for the rest of our lives.

Hear me out. We get more of this green stuff.

Hear me out. We snort it all.

Hear me out. And then we die!

Goodbye, Rip.

Okay, but you're gonna miss my new leader ceremony.

Kurt says it'll be the biggest party in many moons.

Hey, Saltine, where's Rip?

- Oh, my God! He's dead?! - What?

No, he's just not coming.

I'm sorry. That was confusing.

Oh, thank God. I thought we'd lost him.

You can't do stuff like that!

So, this is where we perform

- the new leader ceremony. - Great.

And what are my duties?

You have sex with everyone in the village.

Say that again,

Kurt the talking Neanderthal.

Sorry, sometimes my diction is a little off.

I said, you have sex with everyone in the village,

- and if you don't, we kill you. - Huh.

Let me just take a look here.

Holy hell.

Uh, not to give you the wind, Kurt, old pal,

but this is giving me a real case of the zorros.

I mean, not to sound pigeon-livered,

but the bank is closed, if you take my meaning.

Sorry.

I turn into a real church bell

when I've got the zorros.

I'm sure you're like, "Who is this

canceled stamp?" Am I right?

Okay, I think I know

how to convince Rip to come back with us.

Saltine, stop. We can't make him leave.

But what about the arky competition?

The arky world treated Rip like dog shit.

They stomped on him,

then they chewed him up, and spit him out.

Just like you do with dog shit.

So if he's found a place where he feels happy

and respected, who are we to ask him to give that up?

That's a good point. I just hope he's, to quote Pharrell...

happy.

Fleety? Where's Rip?

Oh, my God, he's dead?!

Come on!

You guys got to stop doing that!

Rip, are you in here? Rip?

Oh, yeah. Fill me up, stud.

Crush me out, stallion.

Oh, my God.

- Saltine! - Aah!

You got to get me the fuck out of here.

Rip? But I thought you were...

Getting my backyard churned into a DQ Blizzard?

Luckily, they're so dumb, I've been tricking them

with a sex doll I made out of straw.

So, uh, you're rescuing me or what?

Heck, yeah, I am. It's time for Saltine's Cool Inventions.

Oh, damn it. Not the cat mirror.

I made a few modifications.

Now, it doesn't just reflect, it also

projects holograms.

Check it.

- It's working. - I know.

Ooh, that hit the back wall.

Roar! Roar!

This way!

It works. Okay, I got to ask.

Where did Fleety find a kitten in the middle of the jungle?

Oh, I see. It's a tiger cub.

And now its mama's pissed. Fleety, you suck.

Uh, that's not good.

Uh... Okay.

That's normal.

Said no one ever.

Let's move!

Keep running!

Ah!

Huh.

Well, that's odd.

Yeah...

Got to say, though...

I don't hate it.

Swooper! Fire up the plane!

Sorry, boss, I couldn't stop him.

I'll be taking that hat, Rip.

You'll have to suck my dick first.

- No, I think I'll just take it. - Right, well,

I guess I can see your point also.

Got to hand it to him, he's good.

- How did you even find us, Zane? - The business card I gave you.

The one that said "fuck you" on it and you kept it anyway

because you're a hoarder, it was a homing device.

Oh, the fucking card?

Unbelievable, man.

I'll just put it in this pocket, though.

Oh, I knew Wendell Banks disappeared

searching for that hat, so I figured I'd be like you

and follow the trail of my male mentor.

Wow, Zane, you are a world-class bum nickel.

Rippy, that really hurt my feelings.

- It did? - No!

I was being sarcastic.

Your dry British wit makes it impossible to tell.

Now, the hat.

Okay, fine. You win, Zane.

No. Zane Troy, if you want to take that hat from Rip,

you're going to have to go through

his temporary assist...

Saltine!

Corpus floraria. Ring a bell, Rip?

Anyhoo, antidote's on the beach two klicks thataway.

I'm headed thisaway. You get it. Ta-ta.

Don't worry about me, Rip.

- Get the hat back. - No, boss!

We got to get her to the hospital.

The dart is my fault.

Should've seen it coming.

Saltine, no, hang on.

Oh, God. It's happening again.

Would going after the hat be repeating

the mistakes of my past? Am I being given an opportunity

to make a better choice? Or to make the same choice

as before but in hopes of a better outcome?

Either way, will I live to regret my decision,

or will I revel in the glory of a choice well made?

And is this an act of free will,

or am I fate's unwitting pawn?

If I seize the hat and return to glory at the cost

of Saltine's young life, will I be able to live with myself,

or if I save her life but return to obscurity,

will I forever be filled with resentment?

I don't know what to fucking do, God.

This! Is! Hard!

And so I'd like to introduce my new head arky,

the man who brought me Hammurabi's hat...

Zane Troy.

Thank you. I just want to say I would never

have found the hat without my old friend Rip Digman.

Well, that sucks.

Thanks for saving my life, Rip.

Of course, Saltine.

-There was never a question of what I would do. -What?

I want to say I'm sorry.

I dragged you into all of this,

and it amounted to nothing.

I hope your next assistant will make you proud.

She already has.

Surprise! I'm hiring you as my permanent assistant.

Seriously? But we lost the hat because of me.

We lost the hat because of Zane.

But you, you helped me get back on the proverbial arky horse.

I know your family doesn't approve

of your lifestyle, Saltine,

but they can go to hell

and burn there for a thousand years

as we laugh at them and spray our hot, frothy oat piss

all over their charred corpses

with the force of a thousand beer-bloated stallions.

That was a really nice speech.

Thanks. I wrote it on this piece of toilet paper

while you were unconscious.

Swooper even took an uncredited pass.

Happy to help.

So, what's next for us, boss?

I'll be in touch.

I trust this will be to your liking.

Rip, I'm so glad you're back.

The phone's been ringing off the hook.

With job offers?

No, there's a problem with the phone.

It keeps ringing off the hook.

I called the phone company

and they're gonna fix it tomorrow.

- See? - Oh, yeah, look at that.

- That's freaky. - Also...

you're getting a bunch of emails with job offers.

Really?

I guess some smaller museums

saw Zane say nice things about you in his press conference.

Because his dry British wit makes it impossible to tell

when he's being sarcastic.

Good God, Agatha. Do you know what this means?

Rip Digman is back!

Hey, Swooper. I'm heading into my secret chamber.

Have a nice shit.

Hey, babe.

Things are finally looking up.

Soon I'm going to find the Grail and bring you back.

But in the meantime,

don't you worry about me being faithful.

Because the only dating I'm interested in...

is carbon dating.

Chirp.