Expiration Date

[Screeching tires] ♪ ♪ [phone ring] Gwaa! Bwaa! What?! What?
Oh. Scout, it’s Pauling.
Tell me you got the briefcase. Yeah sure. And nobody saw you? Ah. Basically nobody. Scout, I’m here right now. Well, that’s a funny story… Hello, Mrs. Pauling!
We killed everyone and took a briefcase! Not everybody, Soldier.
You left seven witnesses, guys. [Gunshot] Six. Pauling :
Look, just keep the briefcase safe, okay? Have a good weekend, guys. Goodbye, Mrs. Pauling!
I’m leaving the van now! Bye bye. Okay then. Hey, hey, Mrs. Pauling!
Before you go. Ahh— [Scout stammering] Scout. What? Say something. You’re probably real
busy this weekend, right? Funny you should mention that. Um. Looks like I will be
burying bodies all weekend. So that you don’t go to jail. Oh g-good. So we’re both busy. [sirens] Oh. Got to go. Lot of people busy with business. SPY:
Asking out that dial tone again, I see. Go to hell, Spy! Hey, look at all this.
What have you two eggheads been workin’ on? Nice catch. Yeah. Listen. Ah… We’ve been running some
experiments on the teleporter. Well yeah.
Y’all ought a take a look at this. [Teleporter sounds] Scout:
Wow. You can teleport bread. That is. Big news. Um.
Is the Demo back with the beer yet? Whaaaa! What the hell is that?! Tumors. Y’all know what this means right? Soldier:
Ahhhhhhh! We cannot teleport bread anymore! Engineer:
Whoa! Whoa… Not exactly, Soldier. You teleport as much bread as you like. That goes for all of ya. If there’s something any of y’all
wanted to do before you— Well. Died.
Now would be a good time. Spy:
How long before these tumors kill us? Well, let’s see. We all use the
teleporter let’s say six times a day. Times four years.
Minus we’re not bread. Hmm. Three days. Yes.
We all have— three days to live! Wooooooooooooo!! Wooooo! Woo. What? Spy: This is a bucket. Dear god. There’s more. No! It contains the dying wish
of every man here. Scout. You did collect
everyone’s dying wish? You bet! Excellent. Gentlemen, synchronize
your death watches. [beeps] We have seventy hours to live.
For most men no time at all. We are not most men. We are mercenaries. We
have the resources. The will. To make these hours count! The clock is ticking, gentlemen.
Let’s begin. Our first dying wish is Scout’s. He’s— drawn a picture of
me getting hit by a car. I have something radiating off of me. Yeah, those are stink lines. That’s why
the car hit him. Cause he smells. Yes I see. Here you’ve drawn
me having— sexual congress with the Eiffel Tower. The Eiffel Tower having
sexual congress with me. Both of us relaxing post-coitus. [silent mouthing] I’m crying and the Eiffel tower has stink
lines coming off of it. Did anyone besides Scout put a
card into the bucket?! Scout: Classic scout.
[giggling] Fantastic. This was a huge
waste of my time. You did not read mine. [Sigh] Does it say you want the bucket? Yes! See you all in hell! [Gasp] [Door knock] Go away. Hey, ah, got a second? Oh, Scout. Please.
Go [bleep] yourself. Yeah. Hey that’s, that’s funny.
Um. Anyway I— [Scream] Wait! Wait! Wait! Ow.
Come on, Spy. I’m wedging my head through a door here
to tell you I’m sorry. Make it quick. So I did write down a last wish. I’d, ahh. I’d like to
go on a date with Mrs. Pauling. You? You’re terrible with girls. What? No. No. No. Spy, look at this. And this. And this here.
Spy, look at all of this. Heh. No. I’m great with girls. We got buckets of chicken.
Wanna do it? Eh. Okay. You, Spy. You are amazing with ladies. You know, classy ones. The kind that
smell good and can read. And always have their glasses on just
kind of crooked. You know? The ones that don’t go for a guy like me. Hmm, and why is that, do you think? C’mon, Spy, I don’t know. Well, a mystery we will take
to our graves then. Goodbye. Wait. Wait. Ah. [Sigh] Okay. Look. Fine.
Spy. This never leaves this room. [Sigh] You are better than me. All right?
I need your help. I’ll do it on one condition. [Mic re-verb] Say that again. Seduce me. You? Seduce me. What, Spy? I ain’t gonna… Seduce me! Right. Right. Okay. Hey there, good lookin’.
I got a bucket of chicken. I’m not one of your friend chicken tramps! I’m a woman. I like my men dangerous.
Mysterious. You want to be my lover?! Earn it.
Seduce me! ♪ ♪ Spy: Final question. You have a dinner
date for seven. What time do you arrive? Seven. A.M. Case the restaurant, run
background checks on the staff. Can the cook be trusted? If not I got to
kill him. Dispose of the body, replace him with
my own guy, no later than 4:30. You’re ready. Really? No. Everything you just said
was insane and we are out of time. Congratulations. You’re a failure. Oh. I failed, did I? Yes. Did I? Yes. Did I? Scout, where is this going? Where it’s going is I don’t need you.
I’ll put this date on myself. Yourself? That’s right, fancy pants, myself. So why don’t you take your little
failure, roll it up sideways and… Okay, crap, I got to go. Screw you though. [Alarms] Y’all ready? Ready! Oh. [roar] [scream] Ah hell. [Alarms] You’re ready. All right.
[Deep breath] Ahhhh! Mrs. Pauling. What an unexpected surprise. They took the briefcase.
Don’t worry, we can fix this. We’ll get it back and the
Administrator never has to know. You look. You look… Ahhhh. Demo: Drunk! Soldier: Round! Soft! No, round!
Demo: Blurry! Ravishing. Pauling: Uh huh. You too. Hold on. That’s the briefcase right there.
Scout, you… Are you having a prom? Yeah. Nah. Yeah ah. Well the.
Yeah, the thing is. Guys! Hey fellas, listen!
It’s just bread that gets tumors. It’s not even tumors. It’s some
form of self aware beauty mark that— that only metastasizes
in an environment of pure wheat. Here, watch this. Oh look. It hates me so much. [laughing] So we’re fine. As long
as nobody teleports any bread. Question. What’s your question, Soldier? I teleported bread. What? You told me to. How much? I have done nothing but
teleport bread for three days. Where?! Where have you been sending it?! [Rumble] Scout. I get one day off a year
and you just wasted it on— this! Goodbye. Wait! Wait! Wait! Ah. Why don’t we
discuss it over diner? [Roar] What the hell is that?! Mrs. Pauling, run! Now, doctor! I think it’s going pretty well. Now go. Hey, Mrs. Pauling. Oh, I am so sorry. God, Scout, what for? Pressing the
one button you’re never supposed to press? Do you have any idea
what’s in a briefcase that… Oh! Oh! Give me your watch! Yeah. Exactly. See that is where
this all starts. No, actually wait… [Scream] Ha! Ha! Ha! I teleported bread! So that brings me to the point
of this story, which is I like you and— you should probably be sitting for this. Guys! Close the blast doors! Mrs. Pauling. Look, my last
few hours I just wanted… [Roar] Come on! Um. Never mind! Pauling: Run! Oh god! [Screaming] Ahhhh. Ah. Mrs. Pauling, you all right? I can’t feel anything below my neck. Oh God. Oh. Now I can feel it. Ow. Ow. Oh God, I am so sorry. This is… That was so much fun. You’re not mad? I was furious. Oh my God, you
set off the briefcase alarm and— you were having a prom for some reason.
But then there was this monster and— we shot it and we built a bomb
and I think my leg’s broken. Can we do this again? Yeah, sure. Wait, nah. We can’t. I’m going to be dead. Wait, what? Good news! We’re not dying!
We are going to live forever! I didn’t say that!
I just said we’re not filled with tumors! Oh thank god. So ya Mrs. Pauling. I guess it’s a date. Actually this was my
only day off this year. Oh. Oh, but you can ride
along with me on some jobs. Pauling: Tomorrow I’m belt sanding the
finger prints off a pile of corpses. Scout: Ah. No. Pauling: Oh you can help me yank the molars
out of a box of heads. Scout: No to that. Well, on Friday I have to kill someone who
pressed a briefcase alarm button and…oh. You’re already going to be at that one.


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