When I was a child, my mother had a rule...
only one cookie from the cookie jar per day.
Thing was, I loved cookies.
I'd lie, cry, beg, and scream until she would relent.
She could never say no.
When I was 11, her stepbrother crashed his car
while driving drunk so my mother gave him hers.
So she had to walk to work... four miles each way.
One morning she stopped to admire a beautiful deer
standing in a field,
and that's when a mid-sized sedan careened
onto the sidewalk and crushed her.
Turned out the driver of the car was her stepbrother,
drunk yet again on light beer.
My mother spent months in the hospital recovering,
unable to work.
Desperate for cash,
we sold everything except for this cookie jar.
Cookie?
Sure.
Thank you.
For later.
No, thank you.
As an accountant, it's my job to keep the lid on the cookie jar,
which brings us to the expense report
from your recent business trip to Los Angeles.
What I need for you to answer me is this...
how did four Hampton DeVille employees
in the course of one dinner
at Marcus Sombrero's Mexican Bar & Grille
manage to drink 16 margaritas?
Mm.
Synced & corrected by kinglouisxx www.addic7ed.com
You were in Los Angeles for three days
to attend BusinessCon, correct?
Yes. We were sent
to represent Hampton DeVille at BusinessCon.
It's an orgy of meaningless handshakes
and empty promises tinged with lies and desperation.
Honestly, it was electric.
I got my own lanyard and badge.
It was Matt's first BusinessCon.
The first two days you stayed well within your per diem limit.
I pride myself in sticking to a per diem.
But on the third day,
things got a little out of control, didn't they?
You went $47 over the limit.
Let's start at the beginning of the day.
You spent $23.40 at Cassie's Coffee Cart.
- Large coffee. - Ah!
- Oh, sorry, Kate. - Mm.
- Do you have samples of the scone? - John?
Kate, one moment please, I'm talking scones.
I'll have a coffee in the largest size you offer
and also a Snickers bar in the largest size you offer.
I felt like the mother of three children.
No woman should have to experience that.
I will, in fact, do the pound cake.
How many pounds are in a pound cake?
John, just make a decision.
Cheese Danish.
I deeply regret not getting the scone.
It's so obvious now.
Then there is a four-and-a-half-hour gap
between breakfast and lunch.
What happened at that time?
Well, we just... I don't know, networked.
You know how it goes at these things.
Actually, I don't get to go to conventions.
- Enlighten me. - Okay.
We walk up to people and we say...
Hi, I work at Hampton DeVille, where do you work?
Oh, wow, that's impressive.
Maybe we should definitely do business some day.
What do you? You work in user experience.
I definitely know what that is, and I think it's incredible.
Let's definitely stay in touch. I'm desperate to stay in touch.
Please don't ever stop staying in touch with me.
Oh, look, we've been talking for 35 minutes.
Whoops, there goes my life.
Anyway, I have to go.
I have 10 more of these exact same conversations.
Here's my business card. Let me give you my card.
Here's a card. Card. Card. Card.
Card. Card. Card. Card. Card. Card. Card.
- Ping me. - Okay, I get the picture.
After lunch, we went to the keynote speech
by Amanda Calhoun, also knows as...
Mrs. Cowboy!
Howdy, BusinessCon.
Y'all ready to talk agriculture?
Yeah!
Did y'all hear that my little ol' company
took in $18 billion in revenue last year?
I don't need to tell you what that is in horse dollars.
Her speech was, in a word...
Bullshit. She just kept reiterating
that she's successful because...
I'm a straight shooter,
and I only do business with other straight shooters.
Which doesn't even mean anything.
The most successful people say nothing but convince
people it means everything.
Shoot straight, be great.
Oh, yeah.
So these cowboys are on stage and they're shooting
t-shirts out of a cannon, and I want one.
Nothing like a big ol' gun, right?
Oh, yeah.
- Oh, fuck! - Fuck!
Yeah!
Matt's a fucking maniac.
After the convention, it was dinnertime.
Everyone I've ever met has told me,
"You've got to get the sushi when you go to L.A."
You're supposed to eat tacos when you're in L.A.
I go, "Guys, I can't handle anything spicy
or raw or authentic".
The only place we could all agree on was Marcus Sombrero's.
And because I spent the whole day
keeping us under budget,
we had enough per diem left to splurge.
Yes, one round of margaritas
would have kept you well within your per diem limit,
so what happened?
To representing Hampton DeVille at BusinessCon.
To Hampton DeVille.
Y'all say you were from Hampton DeVille?
It was Mrs. Cowboy.
At Marcus Sombrero's.
I would direct a porn starring my parents
for 1% of her fortune.
Mrs. Cowboy!
Um, Hampton DeVille would love to buy you a margarita.
Don't mind if I do.
What we didn't know is that Mrs. Cowboy loves margaritas.
Mm!
I ain't happy if I ain't slurpin' a 'rita.
Yeah. You know that.
Another round, please.
It became apparent that she was an alcoholic.
Hey, water boy, I ain't drinkin' alone.
She sucked those 'ritas down like they were
the last 'ritas on Earth.
Y'all better catch up to me.
My mom always said,
"Don't drink too much,"
but Mrs. Cowboy's mom didn't say that.
Now, as representatives of Hampton DeVille,
we believe that a partnership would be mutually beneficial.
So, you got her good and drunk and gave her the pitch.
What did she say?
She said...
No.
And then she got in her truck and drove off.
You let her drive drunk?
Yes, absolutely.
There was no stopping Mrs. Cowboy.
In the moment, it can be hard to say something,
but I got to do better.
We ordered all those margaritas
because we were trying to court business
for Hampton DeVille.
That's why we went over the per diem.
That's all there is to know.
Well, I'll just corroborate these details
with Mrs. Cowboy, and assuming everything
checks out, this case will be closed.
You're gonna bother a billionaire
whose business we're trying to court over a lousy $47?
I am just performing due diligence.
Oh, right, because someone has to keep the cookie jar's lid on
because your mother got hit by a deer or whatever.
So fine, okay, just be my guest, fine, good.
Go for it.
Yes, hello, I am calling to corroborate an alleged drinks
meeting between Mrs. Cowboy
and four Hampton DeVille employees during BusinessCon.
I'm sorry, we don't give out that information.
All right.
Thank you for coming back in.
I had a very interesting conversation
with Mrs. Cowboy.
And now I would like to give you a chance
to tell me what really happened.
The truth this time.
I think I'll take that cookie now.
So let me guess, Mrs. Cowboy claims she never met us.
Of course.
Okay.
The truth had to come out sooner or later.
Here goes.
Mrs. Cowboy did decline
our business proposal...
No.
I only talk business in the privacy of my own property.
So we all jumped in the truck
to go talk business at the ranch.
So she did drive drunk.
Super drunk.
How was her driving?
Not good.
Good evening, madam.
Fetch us some 'ritas, Zack.
Wait, wait, wait.
So there was an English butler
at her California ranch.
Well, I think she had an idea of what a butler
was like in her head and that's who she got.
And his name was Zack?
Hmm. I guess you're right.
You don't hear of a lot of butlers named Zack.
So I'm up in my huntin' stand and I ain't seen hide
nor hair of anything all morning,
and I was gettin' a little antsy.
So I decided to rub one out.
Twiddle my turkey.
Rustle my rabbit.
Grind my gator. You asked.
So I'm getting close,
and just when I'm about to climax,
a 16-point buck walks straight across my eyeline.
So I'm faced with a quandary...
shoot the buck or finish what I started.
So I start blowin' my damn wad,
take aim, and shoot that buck dead,
right between the eyes.
Best orgasm in 2007.
Fuck.
You know, business partnership ain't worth a bucket of spit
if you can't trust the folks you work with.
In order to gain that trust,
you got to build intimacy.
So we're gonna play a little game.
A little game I like to call "Kiss the butler".
- Kiss the butler. - Kiss the butler.
A little game called "Kiss the butler".
So did you kiss him?
? People see us everywhere ?
? They think you really care ?
? But myself I can't deceive ?
? I know if someone make believe ?
Matt was really going for it.
No one told him he had to use tongue.
To me, it's not a real kiss unless it's a France kiss.
? My one and only prayer ?
? Is that someday you care ?
? My hopes, my dreams come true ?
? My one and only you ?
I can't.
I made a vow to my fucking wife.
Unh-unh.
I want to see that pretty little mouth go to work.
Go on now.
? Someday you'll care for me ?
? But it's only make believe ?
The point is, we did this all for Hampton DeVille.
Right.
How dare you kiss anyone but me?
I hired a butler not a whore.
All right, all right, all right.
Let's talk business.
And I only talk business in my business barn.
The thing about me is, I'm a straight shooter.
And I only do business with other straight shooters.
Oh, I assure you, we all shoot straight here,
don't we?
Well, I'm gonna need you to prove it.
Not a problem.
Is there a target?
The target...
Is this 'rita glass.
All you gotta do is shoot it off the tippy-top
of my butler's head.
One shot each.
Giddy up!
What are you gonna do?
I missed on purpose.
Whoo!
I shouldn't be shooting guns at butlers
just because my co-workers are.
It's 2019.
Goddamn it.
That hurts, huh, scarecrow?
Unfamiliar gun. If I had a second shot,
I totally would have hit it.
Oh, looks like you could use
some help there, pretty mouth.
- Yeah. - All you gotta do is cock it.
And squeeze the trigger
like a ripe summer peach.
It's plump and juicy.
Now squeeze it!
Yes!
Y'all are straight shooters after all.
Looks like we're in business.
Zack!
- You shot him! - Oh, my God, he's dead!
It had to be done.
He was a whore.
It was all right when he kissed my house guests,
but my business partners... unh-unh.
No, ma'am.
Now we're gonna play another little game.
A little game I like to call...
"Bury the butler".
Okay. Just to summarize where we are in the story,
you allowed a billionaire to drive drunk...
Super drunk.
...and then you "France" kissed
her English butler...
Zack.
...and then murdered him in a barn.
No, Mrs. Cowboy murdered him.
Right. Which brings us to...
The butler graveyard.
This was not her first dead butler.
Yeah, a little up there.
Okay, now up there to the right.
Good. Really good job.
? My hopes, my dreams come true ?
? My one and only you ?
? No one will ever know ?
? How much I love you so ?
I always bury my butlers nude.
As he first came to me, so shall he leave.
Not bad for a bunch of city slickers.
Of course now we've got a new problem.
You've done buried my butler.
Looks like I need a new butler.
Not a problem, Mrs. Cowboy.
We can start interviewing new candidates as soon as tomorrow.
Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no,
I already got my sights set on a daisy of a candidate.
Put it on, pretty mouth.
Mrs. Cowboy, no.
I said, "Put it on," butler!
And the next time you address me,
you'd better have an English accent.
Yes, madam.
Come on now.
Oh, yeah.
From the moment I saw that pretty little mouth,
I knew I'd make you my butler.
Really?
Now it's time for my favorite game.
A little game I like to call
"Have unprotected sex with the..."
Run!
Hey!
Butler!
So of course Mrs. Cowboy denies our story,
she's trying to cover up a murder.
I was almost forced into sexual slavery.
- Did you call the police? - We couldn't.
Everyone of us had given that butler a kiss.
The inside of Zack's mouth was teeming with my DNA.
How do you think it would look
if four Hampton DeVille employees
were involved in an erotic murder?
We did what we had to for the sake of the company.
And if you really have
Hampton DeVille's best interest at heart,
you will approve that expense report
and we will never speak of this again.
Well, I guess that's all the questions I have.
Thank you for your time.
Nate, could you come in here please?
Could you turn that in?
- It's approved. - Absolutely.
By the way, the itemized bill from their hotel
just came through, still want to see it?
Oh, just leave it on my desk.
Cookie?
No, thanks.
? But it's only make believe ?
Please explain how someone from one of your hotel rooms
ordered "Akeelah and the Bee" at 9:45 P.M.
when you were supposedly at Mrs. Cowboy's,
burying an English butler.
There never was a business proposal, was there?
You never even met Mrs. Cowboy, did you?
Okay, you want the truth?
The truth is Matt told us the margaritas were bottomless!
I'm gonna fire you tonight if you don't watch it, buster.
Something's not right.
This bill is way too high.
Are we over the per diem?
Matt, you idiot!
The margaritas were not bottomless.
We've been charged for 16 margaritas.
- Jesus. - What? Really?
Oh, it was the chips that were bottomless.
- Oh, that's my woopsy daisy. - Oh, my God.
It's okay, we'll pay for it ourselves.
No! I have given my heart
and my soul and my 20s and my 30s to Hampton DeVille,
and I have never once gone over my per diem.
We are expensing this.
Sometimes it takes 16 margaritas for 4 co-workers
to have a good time.
But you know what,
if this is so important to you,
take it!
Are you happy now,
you miserable narc?
Where do you even get a $50 bill anymore?
Did you go inside a bank?
You know, executives aren't the only ones who like to have fun.
I like to drink margaritas
and order dumb kids movies on demand.
Hey, "Akeelah and the Bee"
is a sophisticated film for all ages.
Matt.
You know, I wanted to go to AccountingCon.
I did. But they said, "No, we don't have the money".
And I said, "You're lying.
You do have the money".
I should know, I'm the accountant.
I even offered to put myself up.
Can you believe that?
I baked those fuckers Christmas cookies.
I'm sorry.
It's becoming clear to me that I'm not mad at you,
I'm mad at Hampton DeVille.
So, whatever.
I'll just push this through and we can all go home.
Wait.
Why don't we all go to Marcus Sombrero's?
- Really? - I'll buy you a margarita.
You know, they're bottomless.
Oh! It's the chips.
I really didn't have any plans for tonight.
Ooh, tonight? Um...
Sorry, school night.
This weekend.
My cat needs me at home anytime
I'm not physically at work.
Yeah. And for me, it's...
Ping me.
I'm gonna hang on to this for later.
You know, if there's one thing that we learned
from Mrs. Cowboy, it's that...
Matt, we never spoke to Mrs. Cowboy.
- Oh! - That's right, it's the chips.
Beyoncé!
Whoo!
Jesus. Fuck.