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Faulk ‘N Schette: Buddy Cops – Episode 102

Posted in erbooker by erbooker on 08/15/2011

They’re cops. They’re buddies. They’re buddy cops. This is their story.

Episode 102 – The Fatal Blow

Schette:  You’re just throwing my Space Nazi theory clear out the window. Is that what you’re doing?

Faulk:  It’s just not scientifically feasible. A moon base in 1945?

Schette:  They used cold fusion!

Faulk:  You don’t even know what that is.

Schette:  It’s just like regular fusion, but colder.

Faulk:  Hold up, stop the car.

(Det. Harry Schette pulls over and the two get out to find a man face down on the pavement..)

Faulk:  (kicking the body)  What’s this fool doin’?

Schette:  Oh, I’ve seen this. He’s “planking”. It’s big with the kids on the Twitter.

(Det. Ricky Faulk gets on one knee and turns the body over. The young man’s nose is caked in white dust and blood..)

Faulk:  Oh, shit. This dude’s ice cold. Harry, call this in. …Harry?

(Ricky looks up to see Harry laying face down on the sidewalk, chortling..)

Schette:  Look, I’m doing it.


(Back in the basement of the 47th Precinct, Det.’s Faulk and Schette and Police Chief Flies Red Tree are speaking with Dr. Fillip Petrarski over the dead body..)

Petrarski:  It seems the subject suffered a severe myocardial infarction.

Schette:  Oh, no. What’s that?

Petrarski:  A heart attack. It looks like he ingested some bad cocaine and his body couldn’t handle it.

Chief:  This is the third body this week. Faulk and Schette, somebody in this city is cooking some bad blow and it’s up to you two to find it.

Schette:  Trusting us with a case this serious over Det. Bananas? Looks like we’re starting to grown on ya, eh Chief?

Chief:  Det. Bananas is taking some vacation time to fly out to Hollywood and consult for CSI.

Schette:  Aw, he gets to meet Ted Danson? Stupid lucky monkey.


(The detectives take a spin through the red light district, looking for noted small-time drug dealer Pablo Lopez. They pull up on the sidewalk in front of him as he exits a Chinese restaurant..)

Faulk:  (jumps out the car)  Pablo. We’d like a word with ya.

Pablo:  Aw, man. What do you fools want? I’m clean, man.

Schette:  (smiling)  Oh, yeah? (reaches into Pablo’s front pocket)  Then what’s this?

(Pablo glances down at the plastic package..)

Pablo:  That’s my fortune cookie, esé.

Schette:  (looks down, smile fades)  Well, not anymore.

(Harry pops the cookie in his mouth whole, chokes, spits out the fortune and reads it..)

Schette:  “You will run through a plate-glass window”.  Well, that’s oddly specific.

Faulk:  Listen Pablo, we need to know who’s dealing bad blow in this town. The bodies are starting to pile up.

Pablo:  That’s the Japanese, man. They takin’ all my business with their cheap crap.

Schette:  The Yakuza. Interesting.

Pablo:  Nah, man. The Golden Tigers. Run by a guy named Ryu.

Faulk:  Where’s their base of operations?

Pablo:  Chinatown.

Schette:  The Japanese in Chinatown?  (puts an arm around his black partner and Mexican informant)  This city truly is a melting pot, eh fellas?

Pablo:  Look, you guys want some weed or what?

Schette:  Yeah, I’ll take an eighth.


(Det.’s Faulk and Schette are walking through Chinatown..)

Faulk:  (hangs up)  That was the Chief. He’s still on us about those damn heroin smugglers we made up last week. How long are we gonna string him along?

Schette:  I dunno. He’ll probably forget after a while.

Faulk:  He thinks those smugglers shot Fistschizer. He’s not just gonna let it go.

Schette:  Hey, you notice how he always says “heroin drug smugglers”? Why does he throw the “drug” in there? That’s kind of unnecessary, isn’t it? We know that heroin is a drug. That would be like saying, “I’m going to the store to buy a carton of dairy milk and some chicken eggs.” You know?

Faulk:  (sighs)

Schette:  Do you know, Rick?

(Ricky glances across the street at a sign reading “Golden Tiger Restaurant”..)

Faulk:  Let’s check this place out.

Schette:  Yeah, let’s go to that “food restaurant”.


(Inside the empty Golden Tiger Restaurant, a beautiful hostess greets the detectives..)

Mihiko:  How may I help you gentlemen?

Schette:  Whoa.

Faulk:  (flashing his badge)  We’re looking for a fella by the name of Ryu. Any idea where we might find him?

Hostess:  (grows quiet)

(A young, well-quaffed Japanese man comes out from the kitchen..)

Ryu:  It’s okay, Mihiko. Go in the back and prepare the menu. I will speak with these men.

Schette:  Hey there, tyke. Is your Daddy home?

Ryu:  My father is dead.

Schette:  Ya know, I dunno why people get angry when something like this happens. How was I supposed to know your father was dead. You gonna walk around every day wearin’ a shirt that says, “Don’t make fun of my Dad, ’cause he’s dead”? Then don’t get angry when somebody makes that mistake. I don’t know you. I don’t know your history. Most people’s parents are still alive. But I’m the asshole here? I don’t think so. You just seem a little young to be running a Japanese drug cartel by yourself, is all.

Faulk:  (putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder)  Easy, Harry. Easy.

Schette:  (takes a deep breath)  Sorry. It’s just like the fourth time that’s happened this week.

Ryu:  So you know of my Golden Tigers?

Schette:  Says it on the front door, genius.

Ryu:  (smirks)  Are you here to arrest me?

Faulk:  The coke you’re selling, the last shipment? It’s bad. People are dying.

Ryu:  What am I supposed to do about that?

Schette:  Stop sellin’ it, numbnuts.

Ryu:  My men’s families have to eat. We would lose tens of thousands of dollars waiting in between shipments.

Faulk:  How about this: You take all that bad scag off the streets and we’ll replace it for you. Free of charge.

Ryu:  You would do that for me?

Faulk:  Consider it a welcome to the neighborhood. And an unwritten agreement to behave yourselves. To operate with a modicum of respectability.

Ryu:  An olive branch like that would not go unforgotten.

Schette:  (pulling Ricky aside)  Where are we gonna get all that coke?

Faulk:  The evidence locker back at the precinct. You know how scatterbrained they are down there. Just sneak down, grab a couple bricks –enough to tide them over — and bring ’em back. I’ll stay here.

Schette:  Sounds risky.

Faulk:  (squeezes Harry’s shoulder)  You’re a helluva detective, Harry. You can do this.

Schette:  Right. Ooh, gimme your trench coat.

Faulk:  Why?

Schette:  I need the pockets.


(Det. Schette is waddling out of the 47th Precinct with his trench coat and pants stuffed with bricks of cocaine, when his phone rings..)

Schette:  (leaning against building, nodding at curious passersby)  Yello?

Mary:  Harry.

Schette:  Speaking.

Mary:  It’s me.

Schette:  (frowning)  Gonna have to be more specific.

Mary:  Your wife?

Schette:  (nodding)  Right, right. What’s up?

Mary:  Max’s class just let out and I’m still stuck at work. Can you go pick him up?

Schette:  Oh God, Mary. I’m right in the middle of something here.

Mary:  You’re always in the middle of something. Just go pick him up or you’re on the couch tonight.

Schette:  I like the couch. It’s a pull-out.

Mary:  Go pick him up!


(Max Schette is glancing at his father speeding back towards Chinatown..)

Max:  Dad, why is your jacket all puffy?

Schette:  It’s actually Ricky’s. You like it? I like it. I’ll get you one just like it. You like Ricky? We’re gonna go see Ricky right now. And a Japanese man. But don’t say anything about his dad, ’cause he’s dead. Real touchy. Er, touching.  (sniffs)

Max:  Ricky’s dad?

Schette:  The Japanese guy.

Max:  Is he a ninja?

Schette:  I dunno. Maybe. I like ninjas.  (sniffs)

Max:  I like ninjas too.

Schette:  (steps on the gas)  Race ya!

Max:  We’re in the same car.


(Harry and Max Schette race back into the Golden Tiger Restaurant..)

Schette:  Hey, Ryu. Got the stuff. This is my son.  (sniffs)

(Harry opens up Ricky’s trench coat and drops a dozen bricks at Ryu’s feet..)

Max:  Cool! Powdered milk! Like the astronauts drink!

Faulk:  (pulling Harry aside)  Why is your son here?

Schette:  Old ball and chain had me pick him up. Didn’t have time to take him home. Have you been to my home? I like my home.

Faulk:  Why are you talking so fast?

Schette:  Had to sample the product, make sure it’s kosher.  (whispers in Ricky’s ear)  It’s kosher!

Faulk:  You were driving around with your son, high on cocaine?

Schette:  Like Eric Clapton!

Faulk:  (glowers)

Schette:  I drove the speed limit.

Max:  (wandering over)  No, he didn’t.

Faulk:  Jesus.

Ryu:  (counting the bricks and handing them to one of his henchmen)  Everything is in good order here. I will take the tainted blow off the streets immediately. You have my word.

Schette:  (shaking Ryu’s hand for way too long)  You seem like a trustworthy druglord. Say, you wouldn’t happen to know of any heroin drug smugglers, would you? Oops Ricky, I said it! “Drug smugglers”!

Ryu:  Pleasure doing business with you gentlemen. Hope we can do this again sometime.

Faulk:  (patting Max on the head)  C’mon, Max. Let’s get you home.

Schette:  I’ll drive!  (snatches keys, races out a plate-glass window)

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