LORNE: OK, eyes on the bottle. We come in supplication and hope. Bring her back.

CORDELIA: What's going on?

LORNE: I feel a little... (crawls away)

(Everyone seems a little confused or entranced or buzzed. They break the circle. Lorne crawls behind the counter and passes out.)

GUNN: What's happening to us?

(Angel goes outside. Inside, Fred's inspecting a houseplant.)

FRED: This is important. It's so beautiful... (pukes into the plant)

(Gunn practices martial arts moves. Wes is still sitting where he was when they started.)

WESLEY: We'll just wait to see if there are any side effects. (giggles)

CORDELIA: (paranoid, stands) What's happening? We can't just... we have to... No!

(Codelia smashes the bottle with her foot. This seems to make the buzz go away for everyone. )

CORDELIA: OK. What the hell is goin' on here?

WESLEY: What's your name?

CORDELIA: I'm Cordelia Chase, dumbass. And if this is some sort of sophomore hazing prank where I get doped up and left with a bunch of proto-losers, then my parents are gonna be suing the entire population of Sunnydale. Comprendez?

GUNN: What the hell are you talking about?

CORDELIA: It's called kidnapping a minor, hair club for men. And if you think for a second I'm gonna be putting up with this, well, you don't know Cordelia— (Angel walks in the room) Cordelia... Hello, salty goodness.

(... commercial...)

WESLEY: All right. Hang on. You're Cordelia Chase, you're a high school student, you live in Sunnydale?

CORDELIA: Right.

WESLEY: (to Gunn) So who are you?

GUNN: I'm the guy that's gonna be kicking a whole mess of ass if somebody don't tell me what's going on.

CORDELIA: What do they call you for short?

WESLEY: Does anyone here recognize anyone?

FRED: Um, I'm Fred Burkle. (to Cordelia) I'm also in school in San Anton.

CORDELIA: Oh, we're both in school. Oh, gosh, let's be best friends so I can lose all my cool ones.

WESLEY: There's no need to be snippety, Miss.

CORDELIA: This is a clarion call for snippety, Princess Charles.

WESLEY: It's Wesley, thank you. Wyndham-Pryce. (proudly) I am from the Watcher's Academy in southern Hampshire. In fact, I happen to be head boy.

CORDELIA: Gee, I wonder how you earned that nickname.

WESLEY: A lot of effort, I don't mind saying.

GUNN: Gunn.

WESLEY: (panics) Where?

GUNN: Me. That's my name. The short version.

WESLEY: Ah. What school do you attend?

(Gunn rolls his eyes, and Cordelia scoffs.)

CORDELIA: (walks up to Angel) So, we've heard from the socially handi-capable. What's your story?

ANGEL: Mad. You're all mad. These clothes. Your speech. This place. What land is this?

GUNN: What land is it supposed to be?

WESLEY: Yes, where do you hail from, friend?

ANGEL: I'm not your friend, you English pig. We never wanted you in Ireland. We don't want you now.

GUNN: You Irish?

CORDELIA: You don't sound Irish?

ANGEL: For most certain, I sound exactly— (holds hand to throat) Something wrong with my voice.

WESLEY: Well, what's your name?

ANGEL: Liam. (concerned, holds his throat again)

CORDELIA: Great. We've all got names. (walks toward the door) Bye, now.

WESLEY: I wouldn't be so quick, Miss Chase, to leave. Clearly, we're all victims of some nefarious scheme.

ANGEL: (practicing his accent) Liiiiiaaamm....

WESLEY: I'll lay odds that that door is bolted shut. And who knows what peril lies outside it.

ANGEL: (still practicing) English pig. English pig?

WESLEY: Before we do anything, I suggest we gather as much information as we can.

ANGEL: Liiiiiaaamm....

CORDELIA: And I suggest we gather some cops.

GUNN: Yo... I don't want no heat near me.

FRED: I don't think we should call the police anyhow. I mean, they're probably involved.

GUNN: In what?

FRED: Don't y'all think this is some kind of government conspiracy? 'Cause my friend, Levon, says the government's always taking kids and experimentin' on 'em. Did anybody else have to take a personality disorder test recently? They ask you about politics and your bowel movements and if you want to be a florist—

CORDELIA: OK. We've heard from Scarlet O'PleaseShutMeUp. Does anyone sane have a theory?

FRED: There's conspiracies and stuff. Y'all don't even know...

GUNN: I got no problem with the idea that the man is messing with us.

WESLEY: The important thing is to start with the facts. We're all from different cities, we're all of an age... (rubs chin thoughtfully) Judging from the amount of facial hair I've grown, we've all been unconscious for at least a month.

CORDELIA: (touches her short hairstyle) Oh, God. Oh, God. My hair. My hair. (crying) The government gave me bad hair.

FRED: No, no, it's nice.

WESLEY: Yes, it's, uh, just the thing.

CORDELIA: Are you sure?

WESLEY: It's...eh...very attractive. But a clue, nonetheless. Perhaps the whole point of this experiment is hair.

GUNN: I vote he's not in charge.

ANGEL: It's the devil. It's the devil.

CORDELIA: (crying) My hair?

ANGEL: My father said I was a sinner, that I'd come to a bad end. Now I've come to hell.

GUNN: Well, hell's a lot nicer than my place.

WESLEY: It appears to be some sort of hotel.

FRED: Well, maybe it's Motel Hell. (giggles and snorts)

WESLEY: Well, let's get the lay of the place.

GUNN: Don't be giving me orders. I run my own crew.

WESLEY: I'm sure your seafaring adventures are very interesting, but I have experience of things you couldn't imagine. I'm not head boy for nothing.

GUNN: You 'bout to be headless boy, you don't get out my face.

WESLEY: Intimidation. Ha. Ha. Points for effort. Perhaps a little kar-ate technique will put you in your place.

(Wesley does a pretty bad demonstration of karate martial arts. When he bends down his wrist, a dagger shoots out of his forearm. Wesley gasps and jumps back.)

CORDELIA: What the hell was that?

WESLEY: A clue?

GUNN: Was that a wooden stake you got?

WESLEY: Apparently, yes. Which changes the scenario quite a bit.

FRED: I didn't get one.

GUNN: Nobody got one except English, here. Why's that?

WESLEY: I don't know. I suggest we look about for weapons of some kind.

GUNN: Yeah, that part works.

(Fred and Gunn walk around to the back of the front counter. Fred screams. Wesley's concealed weapon starts going haywire: the sword comes out, but it's to unwieldy for him. )

FRED: Aah!

WESLEY: Aah! (finally getting his weapon under control) All right. Nobody scream. Or touch my arms.

FRED: Well, I think I found another clue.

GUNN: She's not wrong.

CORDELIA: OK, this is even less funny. What the hell is that?

(They have found Lorne, who's passed out on the floor.)

ANGEL: I knew it. It's the devil.

FRED: Why is the devil sleepy?

• Funnies

written by: Joss Whedon; Original transcript by CariCranberry. Edited and formatted for this site by me.. Full transcript at:
http://www.buffyworld.com/angel/season4/transcripts/72_tran.php