ARCHER

A DARK COMEDIC NOVEL

STORIES BASED ON THE AMERICAN TELEVISION SERIES
PART ONE
Duchess
‘the most formidable spy
in ever.’
 1 – POACHED EGGS ALLA WOODHOUSE

T’is a fine life, living as the keeper of Sterling Archer. As much of a pig-headed ass he appears as,
I do care for this so much. Yes, I get paid a decent wage to baby-sit this infantile man, but I
wouldn’t look anywhere else for a job. Yes, he may have a reputation for being a man-whore pimp,
but he is good at his work... mostly.

‘Woodhouse? Woodhouse! Who on the green earth are you talking to?’
‘Oh, never you mind sir, I was just reminding myself of the shopping list for this afternoon’s shop.
After all, it is my shopping day today.’
‘Well, wait what do you mean shopping day? I’ve been up for three minutes already and I haven’t
received my Poached Eggs and Toast alla Woodhouse, and I still haven’t had my morning prayer
drink!1’
‘Yes sir, getting onto it sir.’
‘You’d better be; or I’m going come into there and poach your scrawny little eyes, and then we’ll
see who can make ‘Poached Eggs alla Woodhouse’ [laughs]. And make sure you bring the Bloody
Mary with enough vodka, or you know what comes next.’
‘Yes… sir.’
Woodhouse finally left the room. I only have around about three minutes worth of good morning
pleasure before he returns. As old as he is, he can whip up just about any meal in a short period
of time. Mother says I often take him for granted, but geez-louise, I don’t think that counts.

Ah, just finished in time. Woodhouse is returning with what looks like a slightly watery Bloody
Mary [typical Woodhouse] and Omelet… this isn’t what I asked for. ‘Woodhouse, what is that?’

‘Your breakfast sir.’ he says shakily, knowing that I’m already pissed off at what I see.
‘Take it back and get me what I wanted. You know what I’m like when you give me an Omelet for
breakfast! Do want me to be shitting through the eye of a needle or something?’ I laugh internally
after saying that, and say under my breath phrasing.
‘On the contrary sir, I believe that your last porcelain bus ride was on account of the consumption
of…’
‘Don’t contradict me Woodhouse, with your scrawny little mouth. Go expend your lungs on
breathing heavily while you slave over that kitchen stove and make me a new breakfast! And
don’t take too long, my hangover is kicking in so I need to redue it with my alchohol!’ burping as
I do so [again I laugh internally].
‘Very good sir’ he says in defeat as he slumps back to the kitchen, hunching his back as he goes.
I think that he enjoys serving me sometimes, and if only he knew what I really thought. I mean,
there was that one time:

‘No Woodhouse, my policy still stands! Three strikes and then you have to throw all your
clothes away! How many times do I have to repeat myself.’
Woodhouse shivers with sadness and silently sobs.
‘That’s right, cry, because the only thing you’re going to eat and drink for the next week
is your own tears.’

Hmm… maybe I was a little bit harsh in throwing all his shoes away too, but serves him right for
watering down my Bloody Mary. I mean, how hard is it to give me the ‘Blood of Christ’ [laugh out
loud for a moment before Woodhouse returns]. ‘So, is the food right this time.’

1
morning prayer drink – refers to a ‘Bloody Mary’
‘Poached Eggs, alla Woodhouse, with the strong Vodka Bloody Mary.’ he passes me the tray, with
no cutlery with the plate.
‘Jesus Christ Woodhouse, can you not get me a knife and fork? What, am I supposed to eat this
like an animal or something? Who are you, Mother?
‘Sorry sir, but we’re out of clean cutlery. I just thought…’
‘Don’t think Woodhouse, you’re not very good at it. Now go and get me some cutlery to eat this
shit with… and why is there no celery in the Bloody Mary?’
‘Forgive me, but last time sir you said we were never to have celery in the house again. You were
almost blind drunk and…’
‘You didn’t buy celery… my god Woodhouse, how many times have I told you not to listen to me
when I’m drunk! It’s like that time with the dog! How many times have I told you that there are
two things that we don’t allow in the apartment?’
‘Dogs and…’
‘Mother, that’s right. Pretty short list isn’t it, and celery isn’t one of them so go and buy some and
put it in my Bloody Mary. And while you’re gone, I’ll have to waste my precious laziness time to
think up a punishment for you; like eating a whole bucket of spider-webs or something. Now go
and don’t take too long.’
‘Very good sir.’
As you can now see that I have to put up with idiots everywhere in my life. Even my housekeeper
can’t do what he’s asked when I ask him. Guess I’ll just have to go into work later after going to
the bottle shop because they don’t open before nine-am! Ugh, I really need a drink. ‘Woodhouse?
Woodhouse!’

2 – WELCOE TO ‘EYE-SIS’

‘Ugh, when will this stupid thing work?’

‘What’s your problem now missy?’
‘Oh, it’s because this stupid idiot computer on this stupid idiot desk in front of your stupid idiot
office is not working!’. As soon as I walk out of the elevator; Cheryl? or Carol [she changes it all
the time depending on her spirit animal or something, I used to bang her believe it or not] is
whining about working for us again, while Mother scolds her. I don’t know why she complains
about it, she never does any work anyway.
‘Well why don’t you go talk about your problems with someone who actually cares!’ [there goes
Mother again], ‘Pam! Get your largerly oversized backside in here, Cheryl needs to talk about her
technical difficulties again.’ I can hear her walk to the side-cabinet and pour herself a[nother]
glass of Bourbon; the ice rattles into the square-shaped glass in a cacophony of clattering. I also
hear another noise; Pam rising from her desk to come and “council” Cheryl [Carol]. Her footsteps
are ponderous, but yet still lighter than the stomping around that Mother does in her office
constantly. Eventually she makes it through the tight door, carrying a worn looking Dolphin
puppet [an emotional booster of some sort, but I think there may be other uses in the world of
Pam] and her hair tied tight in a blond bun on top of her head. She wears the same pink dress
shirt and white skirt, which only accentuates her weight with the almost bursting buttons and
the flamboyance in her juxtapositional footsteps. She half smiles, but I can tell that she isn’t
looking forward to another escapade with Cheryl [Carol] and her computer dramas. She walks
over to Cheryl [Carol]’s desk and sits in front of it.

‘Alright, what’d you do to it this time?’ the expression is so fake in presentation it makes her look
as though she is holding-back vomit.
‘Ugh, this stupid thing is just not doing what I stupid told it, and then it like came up with this
stupid message saying: ‘you have one (1) unread message from Ms Mallory Archer’! and then it
just froze.’ Pam sits there looking bewildered, and then bursts out laughing [her prattling giggles
are often heard coming from behind the closed doors of her office; probably the cat videos, or so
she says]. ‘Did you click anything, numbnuts?’ she asks Cheryl [Carol] with laughter weaved
through her sentence.
‘Of course I did, like a hundred-million times, and then it just fricking stopped working! Ugh!’ the
humor of Cheryl [Carol] getting worked up is just hilarious! I slowly start to creep towards my
office when I suddenly notice something out of the corner of my eye. Cyril’s office. It’s not empty,
and neither is it just occupied by Cyril [the agency accountant, who basically is just there to be
taken for granted, haha]; it is dually occupied, by him… and Lana [my ex; it’s a complicated story].

Sometime ago – when Lana was still dating Archer

‘Oh yeah baby! Do you wanna put on some’a that interracial porn while we do it.’
‘Oh, you know it.’ [phone begins to ring] ‘What Mother? No I can’t come now I’m out with
a client. Jesus Christ Mother, I don’t have time for this.’
‘Sterling Mallory Archer! You will not hang up the phone on me…’ [phone is hung up]
Lana appears to be angry; ‘What? It was mother, and I got rid of her.’
‘Oh yeah, it’s just Mother this and Mother that isn’t it. You just can’t get away from her
can you for one second. All I get is this second hand of your day, the “duty sex”!’ Lana gets
out form the covers in her lingerie and walks to the bathroom, taking her clothes with her.
‘C’mon Lana, just because she called me over you for the mission!’ No response from Lana.
‘Lana?’, ‘Lana?’… ‘LANAAAAAAA….!’
‘WHAT?!’ she pokes her head out.
‘Just because she called me over you for the mission, doesn’t mean that she doesn’t like
you; and your big hands.’ [now that I look back on that I can kinda understand her
reaction].
‘My big, WHAT!?’ as she approaches the bed and launches herself at me screaming.

Holy shit, Lana just laughed at Cyril’s stupid joke. That must’ve been the joke about his job;
because his job is a joke [haha…(sigh)]. Better find out what was so funny. So I knock on the door
and…

‘Archer!’ Lana shrieks so menacingly, an exasperated “I’m going to do what I did on the night we
broke up unless you get the shit out of this room” look. I continue to walk in anyway despite this.
Cyril has his usual “I’m just an innocent dipshit, and don’t want any part in this” expression,
which makes me laugh internally knowing the shit-storm that is approaching [more like diarrhea-
storm haha… (sigh)].
‘Cyril, what was so funny that you made the fun-police laugh for once. I mean, the only thing
people laugh at is the lack of balls you have…’
‘Archer! Just because you’re jealous ass can’t get over that we are over doesn’t mean you need to
make your crude jokes about Cyril.’
‘Yes Archer, and I don’t think I deserved that. So…’
‘So… what was so funny?’
‘Ugh, Archer would you just quit it. Cyril and I were just talking about the new photocopiers,
which come with…’ Lana pauses for no reason other than to heave on her own laughter, ‘with
premade pictures of peoples asses.’ at this point Cyril and Lana are in stages of tear-induced
laughter and even Archer has joined in, but not for long. Soon they fall silent.
‘So…’ I hope not to start too big of a fire in stating the obvious, ‘you been taking testosterone or
something because, those hands, pft! [haha, so big].’
‘(sigh) and this Archer is why you can’t have nice things.’