Agent Elvis (2023) s01e07 Episode Script

1
Okay, let's make this quick. I've got
a conference call with the Dalai Lama.
You know, his spiritual enlightenment
thing is really kind of hot.
That may be, but his expense reports
are complete bullshit.
Uh, isn't everybody's?
I assume we're flying to Africa
for some kick-ass reason.
How about we fast-forward to that?
A former TCB asset
recently escaped from prison.
Hang on.
You had an asset in prison?
Whoa, whoa. We didn't put him in jail.
But we also didn't not
"not" put him in jail, if you follow me.
Be almost weird if I did.
He escaped with the help
of the Weather Underground,
and they handed him off
to the Black Panthers.
Two groups dead set
on overthrowing America.
Let's take 'em down.
Actually, let's not, and instead,
go get my runaway TCB asset.
You gotta be kidding me.
Timothy fucking Leary?
Timothy "Francis" Leary, actually.
Writer, psychologist,
and all-around pretty cool cat.
Not to mention a drug fanatic
who got fired from Harvard
for dosing his students with LSD.
- Damn it!
- What?
I almost went to Harvard.
And he didn't dose those kids, okay?
We did.
Leary worked for us,
running an ultra-secret psychotropic
drug research program called Project P.
- Oh damn it!
- What?
Project P
was right down the hall from my office.
That's what that was?
Cry about it later, because right now,
your job is to get him back, and quickly,
because Nixon's after him too.
- Nixon?
- Oh man.
He's got a raging,
throbbing, tumescent, purple-helmeted,
very real hard-on for Leary.
Thanks for the adjectives.
Because of Leary's public advocacy
for psychedelic drugs,
Nixon's made it
his personal mission to get him back.
- We need to grab him before Nixon does.
- Why?
Because he knows too much.
Project P was
part of our mind-control research.
The research someone stole
and turned into the sonic weapon?
- The one from Vietnam?
- You think Leary's in on this whole thing?
Well, that is what
gruesome interrogations are for, right?
Okay. Now, you'll find him here.
Thanks to a tracking device
we implanted in Leary years ago,
we know right where he is.
Implanted? You mean, like, surgically?
Oh! You know a better way to do it?
No, seriously. I'm asking.
Because a lot of my surgeries
don't end well.
By the way,
wouldn't go in there if I were you.
And not for the normal reasons.
- Howard!
- Right.
You'll need this.
What What am I, your fucking secretary?
Works for me.
That can track the signal
from Leary's implant.
Looks pretty damn cool.
What are these buttons?
It's multifunctional.
Can shoot a high-intensity laser,
play music,
even programmed it to say
"I love you" in my father's voice.
The way that asshole never did.
Leary's holed up
at the Black Panthers' embassy.
Now, normally,
he'd be under heavy guard, but today,
George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic
is throwing a concert.
Love those colorful bastards.
And a lot of Panthers are gonna be there.
So, the embassy should be understaffed.
Perfect time for a snatch-and-grab.
Since when do the Black Panthers
have an embassy in Algeria?
Whoa, whoa, whoa. We're going to Algeria?
Excuse me a sec.
What the hell are you doing?
I'm not what you'd air-quote as
"technically welcome" in Algeria anymore.
Ever.
They were extremely clear about that.
You realize your half-naked genius just
shot himself out of this plane, right?
What's your babysitter doing here again?
I invited the lovely Miss Bertie
to join us to discuss some Elvis business.
Yeah, which better include
me getting one of them jetpacks.
Oh my God. You and jetpacks.
Like a fucking broken record.
Yeah, and maybe get me
a new secretary while you're at it.
It's a nice day for a show.
Ugh. Fuck you.
It is literally 3,000 degrees here.
A little sweat never hurt nobody.
Wrong.
Wrong. Sweating is the body's way
of saying it's dying, okay?
Just so you know.
Yeah. I can see that.
Uh, instead of baking alive here,
I'm gonna go recon the embassy.
Okay, but recon only.
Don't go in there without me.
Okay, overprotective and bossy. Got it.
- You good on your own?
- Who do you think you're talking to?
A middle-aged man
with a two-hour hair routine?
I roll out of bed looking this good.
Hey there, little lady.
Can I help you?
Here to see George.
As in George "Dr. Funkenstein" Clinton?
He's a good friend of mine.
And you are who exactly?
- Seriously?
- Not at all.
Unfortunately, I know exactly who you are.
Mm-hmm.
Presley, Presley, Presley
Nope, you're not on the list.
Don't worry about it, sweetie.
George and I go way back.
Oh, how nice for you!
But you're still not on the list.
- Look
- Now,
if it was a list of people
who've stolen Black culture,
then you'd definitely be on that one.
- What are you talk
- Hey, Elvis!
Elvis! Yeah, that's you.
Let's get that funk on, brother.
George, my man.
Elvis on the mothership, y'all!
If you'll excuse me.
Try not to steal anything.
That's Zara.
She's a pain in the ass
with the clipboard.
But damn, she can sing, man.
Golden coins ♪
Now, Bertie I know I told you
I was bringing you here to talk business
Which, if you ask me,
was some pretty low-grade bullshit.
I'm sorry?
You really think you're the first man
to fly me all the way to North Africa
just to try to get in my pants?
Uh, one would assume so?
You sound just like the fourth guy.
Persian rugs to enhance your floor ♪
For the pleasures of love ♪
Darling ♪
Choose anything you please ♪
Rich brocade ♪
Ah! Stupid sweaty palms.
Ah, fucking Algeria.
Air conditioning. Ah, that's the stuff.
God, I love the Black Panthers.
You're getting warmer.
Howard?
In case you just said
"Howard" out loud, like a stupid person,
this is just my pre-recorded voice
to help/taunt you
as you track someone who apparently
survived one of my implant surgeries.
Uh-oh. You did it, Howard.
You fucking did it.
Even warmer!
I'm proud of you.
Something Dad never said to me,
by the way.
Colder now.
Even colder!
God, you're bad at this!
Do you even know how temperatures work?
Okay, warmer now.
White-hot now!
Full-frontal! Money shot! Money shot!
Whoa! Money shot! This is it!
Who the hell are you?
Tall drink of gorgeous water?
Uh, yes, please.
What the hell do you think you're doing?
Ideally, something other than this
to you right now.
Whoa! Hey
Go to sleep. Go to sleep, you sexy thing.
Oh, well, this is fun.
Hey. Hey, wake up.
Hey, Dr. Strangelove, get the hell up!
Stoned out of his mind.
Must be some good shit.
Amateur hour.
God, you think prison would have
knocked off a few pounds
Oh shit! Shit!
Shit!
Uh
Hey, if you're alive,
I'm really sorry about that.
Oh shit.
Oh, you are.
You know what? Now that you are,
fuck you for not inviting me
to your never-ending
research party down the hall, dick.
Don't look now, but I think someone's
about to steal their next hit song.
- Didn't catch your name.
- Zara.
Well, Zara, let's get one thing clear.
My music's my music.
And on behalf of Black people everywhere,
you're welcome.
Now, look,
I know where you're going with this.
But look here,
rock and roll and rhythm and blues
were here a long time before I came along.
I know where the music came from,
and let's face it, I also know I'm never
gonna sing as great as Fats Domino,
but I grew up on this kind of music.
I love it, and it's in my blood.
I can't help it.
Moving, in a clunky, evasive kind of way.
You know, there's a JET Magazine article
that clears a lot of this up.
You got to be kidding me.
Who the hell carries around
their own JET Magazine article?
People who believe in being thorough.
There's a lot of good stuff
in there on this.
Oh, motherfucker!
What the hell happened to my van?
Oh, yeah.
Some weird, stoned guy fell on it.
Don't worry. I'm taking it
to get it fixed. Back in a jiff!
Back in a what? What the fuck's a jiff?
Oh fuck yeah, Black Panthers.
God, you guys get me.
Damn, this tea is amazing.
The locals call it Maghrebi mint.
I knew you'd like it.
Well, we're extremely sure of ourselves.
Well, your file is quite thorough.
I have a file?
Everybody has a file.
- Why would
- Everybody.
Everybody. As in everybody.
- How long is it?
- Long enough.
I mean, like, how thick is it?
Wait, we're talking about the file, right?
What?
Because it feels like we're hitting
a metaphor pretty hard on the head here.
Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter.
Ahem. Now, shall we
You seriously think I'm gonna get a room
with you in some random Algerian hotel?
Just need to make a quick stop.
By the way, was that a "no" to getting
a room in general, or just this hotel?
Pick one.
Man, you weren't kidding
about that sweating thing.
Not helping, jackass.
Also, we gotta go right now.
Where'd you get the van?
Same place I got him.
What the hell?
You already got Leary?
The words you're looking for,
I believe, are "Thank you."
Nice job. Missed a hell of a show though.
Caught up with George, gonna have him over
to see Priscilla and the baby.
Right. Yeah.
I just scaled a building, you know,
and stole a full-grown man
out of a second-story window, but,
- yeah, let's talk about your stuff.
- Hey.
What do you think you're doing?
That's my line.
You're stealing our white guys now?
Technically, she did.
Are those guys after the van or Leary?
Or maybe
the giant pile of guns in the back.
Pick one.
What guns?
Oh! Well, hello.
Hey, maybe wanna tell your buddies
to dial it back a bit?
Hey, don't look at me.
You guys started it.
You came onto our sovereign soil.
- What soil?
- Our embassy.
We're a government in exile dedicated
to fighting America's repressive system.
Oh, preach it, sister.
Don't do that.
Yep. Sorry.
Antoine!
Nice to see you, Commander.
Same here, my friend.
Be right back.
What the hell is that?
An endangered baby white rhinoceros.
I can see that. Why is it here?
For dinner.
Uh, excuse me?
I read in your file
how exotic foods
are one of your favorite things,
so I took the liberty
of hiring a private chef nearby
so you and I could enjoy
a quiet meal together,
munching on our little friend here.
Gotta say,
that does sound kind of romantic.
Aw. Thank you.
And it also happens to sound
completely fucking insane!
Are you out of your bald-headed mind?
Hey! "Exotic foods"!
Which means frog legs!
Maybe the occasional sushi, you moron!
Well, it's a little late
for this kind of input.
I paid 20 grand for this fucking thing!
That's over $100,000 in 2022,
to put it in financial context
for no apparent reason.
Fuck.
Okay, I've had
just about enough of this shit.
Hey, you can't shoot my friends.
You mean the friends
trying to run us off the damn road?
Not me. Just you.
Do you know how car crashes work?
Who the hell are these new assholes?
No idea.
Definitely not Black Panthers though.
So feel free to shoot those guys
all you want.
Ah shit! Goddamn it! We lost the AC!
Not really our chief concern right now.
Since when?
Just get to the damn plane.
And hold it steady while you do.
Whoa. You know how to use that thing?
Pretty much, give or take.
Not really the answer I wanted to hear.
Take it easy. You just point and shoot.
How hard can it be?
Uh, harder than one
would think, apparently.
Uh, well, this is gonna leave a mark.
You guys okay?
Whoa. Where the fuck's Leary?
- Those assholes must have taken him.
- Oh shit.
We gotta call the Commander on this.
And tell him what?
That we just crapped the bed so hard,
we blew up his fucking plane
and lost his drug buddy?
Right. Don't call.
Cool. I like your way better.
Still got that tracker?
Cold!
You're so cold right now.
I don't even know why I bother trying!
Uh, what the hell are you doing?
Oh, try the kebab. It's to die for.
Not with your nasty fingers
all over it, it isn't.
Humor me, Bertie.
Mm.
I'm not gonna lie,
that's some tasty barbecue right there.
Right?
Now try to keep
that positive frame of mind
when I tell you we're being followed.
- What?
- Four o'clock.
Guy in the baseball cap
and his two buddies at six and eight.
Don't look back.
Then why the hell'd you tell me
where they are?
Okay. No, that's a fair point.
The tracker puts Leary out there,
somewhere on that sub.
Oh hell, yeah.
Goddamn submarine fight?
Exactly the kind
of badass spy shit I signed up for.
You thinking what I'm thinking?
Not unless you're also wondering
why I don't have my own submarine.
No, I mean that.
Now, you're staying here.
No shit.
And, this isn't
a "Black people can't swim" thing.
This is a "You people
are out of your damn minds" thing.
Now, look, you seem like
you got a good head on your shoulders.
So, what are you doing running around
here anyway? You're just a kid.
Thanks, White Guy Dad.
Seriously. You should go home.
Actually been thinking about that.
Maybe get back to my music.
George mentioned you sing.
Oh, honey, I can sing my ass off.
I can sing circles around you.
Pretty low bar there.
If the music thing gets real,
give me a call.
Also, here, to help with the ticket home.
You know, you did
almost get me killed a couple times.
And I'm betting you really don't
want me telling anyone about all this.
Ever.
Something I can help you boys with?
Hand over the rhino.
Sure. But maybe go fuck yourself first.
Right now.
You seriously think you can rip me off
in the middle of my date?
Which isn't going that well, by the way.
Fine. You want him?
Well, good luck with that,
because I will
fucking waste this little guy!
Jesus!
Oi, no!
Whoa, whoa, mate! No, wait!
I'll splatter his endangered brains
all over the goddamn wall!
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Take it easy. Take it easy.
You don't need to do that.
You know what? You're right. Here. Catch.
Bloody fuck!
Now, let's try that again.
You really think you can rip me off?
That's That's not what I'm doing.
We're just trying to save it.
- What?
- We're with Greenpeace!
Swear to God! Please don't shoot!
Okay, before you say anything,
we both know I had no way of knowing that.
That's it.
I'm fucking out of here.
Oh come on. You can't just
You can't just walk away.
Look, the little guy's growing on me.
Getting warmer.
Goddamn it.
Maybe I should take that.
Just use your little hand signals.
Maybe you could confuse them to death.
Ugh. Jesus. Still?
Well, lookie here.
Oh Jesus Christ.
- What are they doing with all these?
- Oh man! You're on fire!
- Red hot! Oh yeah!
- Damn it. Turn that thing off.
- You turn it off.
- Fuck you, Dad! Fuck you! I win!
You're dead! I'm alive!
Fuck you, Dad!
Oh yeah! So hot! So hot!
Go!
Holy shit, we're going down.
It's technically called "submerging."
- What?
- "Going down" implies we're sinking.
Oh okay!
Well, which one means we're fucked?
Torpedo tubes.
On it.
Huh? What?
Oh, now he wakes up.
I can't hold this much longer.
You better be right behind me.
Don't worry. Multifunctional, remember?
That! That right there!
That's exactly why
I need a fucking submarine!
Which I'm sort of wishing
we were back on right now.
- Are you fucking kidding me?
- What?
We needed that thing.
Fuck you, I was winging it.
Bringing that back
might've made up for blowing up the plane.
Take it from a guy who actually
owns a plane. Not even close.
You kids done chatting?
Smile, you son of a
Nice boat.
Borrowed it.
Figured you two might need a hand.
Yeah. Appreciate the help.
Well, genius, you're no good
to my music career if you're dead.
Preach it, sister.
Still no.
Right.