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Faulk ‘N Schette: Buddy Cops – Episode 103

Posted in erbooker by erbooker on 08/17/2011

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

Episode 103 – One Last Shot

(Det. Harry Schette drags a nefarious criminal into the 47th Precinct..)

Schette:  We got him, Chief!

Chief:  Who is he?

Schette:  I dunno. Some bad guy.

Chief:  Take him into Interrogation Room #2. Put him under the hot lamp.

Schette:  We don’t have a hot lamp. We have a really warm lamp.

Chief:  Will it make him sweat?

Schette:  Actually, it’s just a really bright lamp.


Schette:  (wearing Ricky’s shades)  Talk!

Eric:  (squinting)  Can you turn that off?

Schette:  No! It’s a bright lamp!

Eric:  Does it have a dimmer switch?

Schette:  No!  (glancing at the lamp)  Oh hey wait, it does. This is actually a pretty good lamp. What is this, halogen?

Faulk:  Focus, Harry.

Schette:  Right. Talk, criminal!

Eric:  I’m not a criminal. My name’s Eric. My car was stolen? You guys said you would help me?

Schette:  Oh shit, I forgot all about that. My bad, dude.

Faulk:  Yeah, sorry man. You’re free to go.

Eric:  But what about my car?

Schette:  Good luck!

Eric:  You two are the worst police officers in the entire city.

Schette:  Yeah? Well you’re probably not very good at whatever it is you do either. Get out!

(Eric storms out of the interrogation room and slams the door..)

Schette:  Welp, quittin’ time.

Faulk:  (checks his watch)  It’s noon.

Schette:  Yeah, I’m bushed. O’Flannigan’s?

Faulk:  O’Flannigan’s.

(Officer Pat Hurlston — an obese, alcoholic beat cop — pokes his head into the interrogation room..)

Hurlston:  Did somebody say O’Flannigan’s?

Faulk & Schette:  (chortling in unison)  Oh, Hurlston!


(Later that evening, Officer Hurlston is vomiting into the gutter outside O’Flannigan’s; while Faulk and Schette do the cabbage patch..)

Schette:  Go Hurlston! Go Hurlston!

Faulk:  Oh, shit!

Schette:  (stumbles back a bit, steadies himself)  What happened? Did you try to fart and a little poop came out?

Faulk:  No.

Schette:  Good. ‘Cause I didn’t do that either.

Faulk:  I forgot we’re supposed to be on that prostitution sting tonight.

Schette:  (smacks his forehead)  Oh, crap!

Faulk:  I know!

Schette:  No, I pooped a little bit.

Hurlston:  (vomits blood)


(Det. Schette’s car is partially up on the curb across the street from a corner with a particularly high rate of prostitution..)

Schette:  (rubbing his bleary eyes)  Man, how’d we get here?

Faulk:  Dude. You drove.

Schette:  (chortles)  That doesn’t sound like a good idea!

(Ricky fits Harry with a bug and buttons his shirt back up..)

Faulk:  Now remember, we just have to get them to agree to the deed. They’re not allowed to…bring us to fruition.

Schette:  (frowns, hiccups)  Like ESP?

Faulk:  What? No, fruition.

Schette:  (blank stare, shrugs)

Faulk:  No climaxing.

Schette:  Aw. But I love climaxing.

Faulk:  Alright, which one are you goin’ for?

Schette:  (hiccups)  No fat chicks.

Faulk:  And don’t forget this is all being recorded. Can’t let the Chief know we’re drunk.

Schette:  Whoops. Did you record that?

Faulk:  I dunno. How do you rewind this thing?

Schette:  (slaps at the recorder)  Think you just gotta tunk it a couple times.

Faulk:  Isn’t it this back button? With the arrow?

Schette:  You got it upside-down. That’s fast-forward.

Faulk:  Screw it. Just get over there. And no climaxing!

Schette:  Oop. Can we start over?

Faulk:  Why?

Schette:  (whispering bashfully)  I just climaxed.


Schette:  Hey…baby.

LaQueesha:  (snapping gum)  What you want?

Faulk:  (chuckling over the radio)  Tell her you like her cans.

Schette:  (giggles)  Shut up, man.

LaQueesha:  The fuck you say?

Schette:  Um, I like your cans?

LaQueesha:  You want a date, Daddy?

Schette:  Nah, I had some sliders at O’Flannigan’s. I’m full.

LaQueesha:  The fuck’s an O’Flannigan?

Schette:  It’s a bar downtown. Really great happy hour deals. Real affordable for a working woman like yourself.

Faulk:  Focus, Harry.

Schette:  Oh, you wanna have sex?

LaQueesha:  Sure, baby. This alley over here okay?

Schette:  Well, it ain’t the Ritz.

(Det. Schette follows LaQueesha down into the alley and whispers into his bug..)

Schette:  Totally getting laid.

Faulk:  No climaxing.

Schette:  Shut up.

Faulk:  No, you shut up!

LaQueesha:  Who you talkin’ to?

Schette:  Uh, my thingie?

LaQueesha:  Why don’t you let me talk to it for a while.

Schette:  Oh, ooh. Uh oh.

LaQueesha:  What’s wrong?

Schette:  I just…fruitioned.

LaQueesha:  You did what?

Schette:  I gotta go.

Faulk:  (sighs)


(Back in the car, Harry is scrubbing his crotch with some napkins from O’Flannigan’s..)

Faulk:  Twice in one night. Trouble in paradise?

Schette:  Me and Mary are fine. I’m just nervous, okay? And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anybody about this.

Faulk:  Yeah, okay.

(Ricky discreetly labels a tape “Harry —s In His Pants: Hilarious!” and pockets it..)

Faulk:  Why don’t you let me take a stab at it this time?

Schette:  Suit yourself. Those girls are gonna eat you alive.

Faulk:  (attaching the bug under his shirt)  Watch the suave debonaireness.


(Fifteen minutes later, Det. Ricky Faulk comes swaggering out of the alleyway with LaQueesha..)

LaQueesha:  My God.

Faulk:  Yeah, I know.

LaQueesha:  Baby, that one was on the house.

Faulk:  What? No!

LaQueesha:  (frowns)

Faulk:  …way you’re gonna beat a deal like that.


(Det. Harry Schette makes his way back across the street in a fake mustache, speaking to Ricky back in the car over the radio..)

Schette:  Time for a real man to take care of business.

Faulk:  You clean your pants up there, Real Man?

Schette:  Yes.

LaQueesha:  Hmph. You again.

Schette:  Hello there, madam. I’m a traveling salesman and I’m in the mood for one of your finest  (leans in whispering)  b-jobs.

LaQueesha:  I know it’s you, fool. Follow me.

(Three minutes later, Harry and LaQueesha return from the alleyway..)

Schette:  (adjusting his fake mustache)  That was fine work, miss. What’s the damage?

LaQueesha:  Fiddy.

Schette:  (speaking into his shirt)  A reasonable price for a b-job from a hooker near the corner of 105th & State Street.

(Harry fishes around in his pockets to no avail..)

Schette:  Oh, crap.

Faulk:  Talk to me, Harry.

Schette:  I think I spent all my money at O’Finnigan’s.

Faulk:  Jesus.

LaQueesha:  (sighs)  You got a checkbook?

Schette:  (rolls his eyes)  Yeah, lemme check my purse.

LaQueesha:  I’m callin’ Rusty.

Schette:  No, no. Don’t call Rusty. Who’s Rusty?


(Det. Schette is tied to a chair in a warehouse behind the street corner, sitting next to an unconscious man. A hulking black man is towering over Harry..)

Rusty:  I’m Rusty, bitch.

Schette:  Well, there’s no need for name-calling.

Rusty:  You can’t pay my women?

Schette:  Afraid we went a little overboard at O’Finnigan’s today. Those Happy Hours just fly by.

Rusty:  How you gon’ make this up to me?

Schette:  Are there some dishes I can wash?

Rusty:  Maybe I should turn you out; see how much cake you can make me.

Schette:  Probably not a lot. I haven’t been feeling too confident about my body lately.

Rusty:  Wait a minute, O’Finnigan’s. Ain’t that that cop bar on 16th?

Schette:  …no?

Rusty:  You a cop?

Schette:  (sighs)  You got me. But my partner’s gonna be here any second and then you’ll be in big trouble, bub!

(One of Rusty’s boys drags Ricky in and ties him to the chair on the other side of the unconscious man..)

Schette:  Hey, Ricky.

Faulk:  Hey, Harry.

(The unconscious man suddenly wakes up and the detectives recognize him as the same man from that morning..)

Schette:  Oh, hey. Not so perfect after all; eh, Mr. Stolen Car?

Eric:  Shut up.

Schette:  No, you shut up!

Rusty:  Enough talk. Let’s waste these fools.

Schette:  Oh..

(Harry stares down at his pants and Ricky shakes his head..)

Faulk:  Tell me you didn’t fruition again.

Schette:  No, this time I just peed.


(The next morning Chief Red Tree is listening to the detectives’ tape..)

Chief:  Faulk and Schette, you’re lucky Det. Bananas showed up when he did.

Faulk:  (shaking his head)  Saved by a monkey.

Chief:  That monkey is the only thing keeping this precinct afloat.

Schette:  Any chance he can get me one of them CSI shirts?

Chief:  What’s the latest on those heroin drug smugglers?

Faulk:  Still trackin’ clues, sir.

Chief:  Well, keep it up. A big bust like that could be just what the doctor ordered. And why did you two sound so loopy on this tape?

Faulk:  Fatigue, sir?

Chief:  Would that fatigue happen to be O’Finnigan’s-related?

Hurlston:  (pokes his head into the Chief’s office)  Did somebody say O’Finnigan’s?

Chief, Faulk & Schette:  (chortling in unison)  Oh, Hurlston!

(The four men share a hearty laugh..)

Schette:  Seriously, Pat. You have a problem.

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