Totally Radical Sportz!

Faulk ‘N Schette: Buddy Cops – Episode 114

Posted in erbooker by erbooker on 10/06/2011

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

Episode 114 – Guest For Breakfast

News Anchor:  …and the culprit: Jones Lacey, an African-American male in his mid-twenties, is still at large. Authorities advise residents to keep their doors locked and to remain indoors until the culprit is brought to justice.

Mary:  A murderer on the loose. What’s happening to this society?

Schette:  Yeah, society. So, Max is over at Ricky and Bernadette’s hangin’ out with Pip the orphan boy. We can’t go anywhere ’cause there’s a murderer on the loose. We have the whole place to ourselves for the night.  (raises his eyebrows, smiles)

Mary:  And?

Schette:  …sex?

Mary:  Ugh. I’m not in the mood, Harold.

Schette:  Aw, why not?

Mary:  I’m tired.

Schette:  So am I after a hard day of policin’. It’s just, we haven’t really had a night to ourselves like this in a long time.

Mary:  Not tonight, Harold.

(Harry grumpily heads for the upstairs bathroom when there’s a knock at the door..)

Schette:  I’ll get it.

Mary:  Don’t open the door! It could be the murderer!

Schette:  Nonsense. Out of all the houses in this neighborhood to break into and rape, murder and rob those within, he’s not gonna choose ours.

(Harry opens the door and an African-American man in his mid-twenties shoves a gun into the detective’s face..)

Lacey:  Get on the floor, mothafucka!

Schette:  (hands up)  Take my wife, please! Oh, get it?

~~~

(Harry is bound and tossed on the couch next to his wife..)

Mary:  I told you not to open the door.

Schette:  What? I thought it could be pizza.

Mary:  We didn’t even order pizza.

Schette:  Well, maybe the pizza delivery guy gets the wrong address and boom. We get a free pizza.

Lacey:  (pressing his gun against Harry’s temple)  That’s not how the pizza delivery industry works!

Schette:  Are you that murderer from the TV?

Mary:  Of course he is. They showed his picture.

Lacey:  They showed my picture?

Schette:  Well, I didn’t want to just assume it was him and then have him play the whole “all black people look the same” card.

Mary:  You’re in big trouble, bub. My husband’s a cop.

Schette:  (whispering)  Whoa, hey. Ix-nay.

Mary:  What? Maybe it’ll scare him off. He doesn’t want that kinda heat coming down on him.

Schette:  Or maybe he’s a cop-killer who loves killing cops.

Mary:  Oh, he doesn’t look the type.

Schette:  Oh yeah? You run into a lot of cop-killers in your line of work down at the library?

Mary:  I see a future cop-killer every morning when I look in the mirror.

Schette:  Well that’s a little outta left field!

Lacey:  (holding his arms out)  You guys, I’m right here.

Mary:  Can you just tell my cop husband that you’re not a cop-killer?

Schette:  Stop saying ‘cop’!

Lacey:  (points the gun back at Harry)  You a cop?

Schette:  Yes. But not a good one.

Lacey:  Shit. Of all the dumb luck.

Schette:  Just, on a scale of one to ten, so I know where we currently stand; does the fact that I’m a cop make you more or less likely to kill me?

Lacey:  Ten being the lowest?

Schette:  Ye—no, what? When has ten ever been the lowest?

Lacey:  (shrugs)  People got different sliding scales.

Schette:  Well let’s try by round of applause, then. Clap if you love killin’ cops.

Mary:  (claps)

Schette:  What? How’d you do that? Your hands are tied.

Lacey:  I’m not a cop-killer.

Mary:  Oh, thank God.

Schette:  So, who did you kill? Was it black-on-black crime? Ya really shouldn’t do that, bud. It’s what The Man wants.

Lacey:  That’s not important. What is important is I gotta figure out a way to get outta here.

Mary:  Taking a cop and his wife hostage was a bad start.

Schette:  Can you just stop engaging the cop-killer for one second while we sort this whole thing out?

Mary:  Oh! Now I’m not allowed to speak in my own home?

Lacey:  For the last time, I’m not a cop-killer! And damn! You two got a messed-up relationship. Why don’t you just get a divorce already?

Mary:  We have a son.

Lacey:  I’m sorry.

Schette:  Thank you.

Lacey:  For him.

Mary:  Hey!

Schette:  Hey, that’s why you were sent here!

Lacey:  What’s that now?

Schette:  You were sent here to get us into a room together and force us — at gunpoint! — to sort out all our problems, fall back in love with each other and live happily ever after!

Lacey:  No, man. I’m here ’cause I killed some people and gotta take hostages as leverage until I work out my next move.

Schette:  Counsel our marriage, street marriage counselor! Counsel our marriage with your mysterious street ways!

Lacey:  (sighs)

~~~

(As the morning sun rises outside, Jones Lacey has buried his head in his hands..)

Schette:  She’s afraid of intimacy!

Mary:  He’s afraid of commitment!

Schette:  Hello! We’re married!

Mary:  I know, asshole!

Schette:  You’re the asshole! Jonesy, you started this discussion. Settle it. Who’s the bigger asshole?

Lacey:  You both are! And I didn’t start nothin’. You two just started hollerin’ faults at each other. Why isn’t this phone workin’?

Schette:  Forgot to pay the phone bill.

Mary:  Another one of his faults.

Schette:  You’re always tryin’ to kill my dreams!

Mary:  Because you have ridiculous dreams!

Schette:  You laughed in my face after you read my script for Terminator 6!

Mary:  There hasn’t even been a Terminator 5 yet!

Schette:  That’s part of the twist. The robots go back in time to before the sequel was even supposed to take place. It’s a thinking man’s picture, like Charlie Kaufman.

Mary:  (turning to Jones)  You see what I have to deal with?

Lacey:  You two should really go see a professional about all this. Y’all got problems.

Schette:  You’re not even gonna try to help us out, Jonesy? Don’t you have some sage street scholar advice?

Lacey:  (sighs)  Look, do you love each other?

Schette:  Sure.

Mary:  Of course.

Lacey:  And you’d do anything for each other?

Schette:  Yeah.

Mary:  Definitely.

Lacey:  Then what’s the problem? Stop bickerin’ over little shit and look at the big picture: There is no one else in this entire world that could stand to be with either of you. You were meant to be together, whether you like it or not. Might as well make the best of it. Now, I’m gonna untie you so you can call me a squad car.

Schette:  You’re turning yourself in?

Lacey:  After a night with you two, twenty-five to life is sounding mighty tolerable.

(Jones unties the Schettes and heads into the kitchen for breakfast. Harry takes Mary’s hand in his and smiles..)

Schette:  You know hon, that murderer made some great points.

Mary:  Yeah. I’m sorry for arguing, Harry. We just need to learn to communicate better. I love you.

Schette:  (smiles warmly)  Does this mean you’ll read my script for Terminator 7?

Mary:  (sighs)

~~~

(Harry leads Jones Lacey to the squad car parked out front and helps him inside. He leans in before shutting the door..)

Schette:  Hey, so I’ve been meaning to ask you: What did you do, anyway?

Lacey:  Caught my girl bangin’ my best friend, so I shot ’em both dead.

Schette:  (exhales)  Oh, thank God. I thought you did something really terrible.

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