Totally Radical Sportz!

Faulk ‘N Schette: Buddy Cops – Episode 209

Posted in erbooker by erbooker on 12/01/2011

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

Episode 209 – We’ll Always Have The Docks

(Detectives Ricky Faulk and Harry Schette and Chief Armando Galarraga are chained up in the back of a van on the docks…)

Schette:  So bored.

Faulk:  You’re bored? Our wives are in a warehouse surrounded by the Russian Mafia with guns to their heads and you’re bored?!

Schette:  I wanna get in on this action. I don’t wanna be cooped up in here with you herbs.

Faulk:  Don’t call me a herb.

Schette:  Herb.

Faulk:  Stop it!

Chief:  Faulk and Schette, be quiet! You’re lucky the British even brought you along. Of course you’re locked up, you broke into a prison.

Schette:  I thought it was breaking out that was bad.

(MI-5 Agent Gwinnifer Faulkland slides open the side door and pokes her head in…)

Faulkland:  Alright then, Chief. Warehouse 14, is it?

Chief:  That’s right. If he’s there, he’ll have men at every door.

Faulkland:  Right. We’re gonna go in guns blazing.

Schette:  You seriously think a buncha limey gits are gonna out-gun the Russian Mob?

Faulkland:  We’re a highly-trained crime-fighting force.

Schette:  Ridiculous. Ricky, gimme a war the British lost to the Russians.

Faulk:  Russo-Briton War of 1819.

Schette:  Boom.

Faulkland:  You made that up.

Faulk:  (hangs head shamefully)  Yeah.

Faulkland:  Boom. Now, you boys sit tight and we’ll be back in a jiff. Cheerio!

Schette:  It’s not even breakfast time any–ah, she’s gone.


(Inside Warehouse 14…)

Bernadette:  (breathing heavily)  I really think I need to get to a doctor.

Rublov:  No doctor.

Mary:  She’s eight-and-a-half months pregnant.

Rublov:  No doctor!

Bernadette:  Please!

Rublov:  You are doctor. You are Mob doctor. Husband bring you to fix one of my lieutenants months ago. You did good job. Didn’t she, Alex?

(A hulking henchman with an AK pats his gut, nodding…)

Alex:  Only hurts when I breathe!

Bernadette:  That’s actually not good.

Rublov:  You doctor. You deliver child.

Bernadette:  Kinda not how it works.

Rublov:  Nonsense. In my village, women deliver their own all of the time. Is simple process.

Mary:  (frowning)  You don’t have a lot of healthy relationships with women, do you?

Alex:  (shouting)  Only with hooker! And she not healthy!

(The henchmen erupt with laughter. Rublov fires his pistol into the exact spot Alex had been shot months earlier and he drops to the ground…)

Rublov:  Enough!

(The henchmen immediately turn silent…)

Rublov:  (turning back to the female hostages)  But yes, only with hooker. And she very not healthy.


(Outside Warehouse 14…)

Faulkland:  (over the radio)  We have shots fired. Men, advance and proceed with caution.

(Agent Tolliver Allibaster approaches the northwest corner of the warehouse and accidentally kicks a soup can…)

Allibaster:  Oh, bollocks.

(A Russian henchman bursts out of a nearby door and guns him down. Agent Faulkland ducks behind a dumpster as the warehouse garage door lifts and dozens of Russians come pouring out, AK’s firing…)

Faulkland:  Fall back, men! Fall back!

(But the orders come too late. Gwinnifer watches in horror as MI-5 agents drop like flies. A speedboat with a Gatling gun equipped comes screaming down the harbor and up the docks, putting holes through the van. Harry, Ricky and Chief Galarraga drop to the floor and Ricky fumbles with his cuffs…)

Faulk:  Almost got it.

Chief:  Was anybody hit?

Schette:  Got what, Ricky?

Faulk:  Almost got these handcuffs unlocked.

Chief:  (glances down at a red patch spreading across his chest)  Oh, God.

Schette:  How do you expect to unlock handcuffs, Houdini? If it involves us having to get into some sort of complicated ’69’ position, I am not interested.

Faulk:  Relax. I’m usin’ this hairpin.

Chief:  Oh God, I’ve been shot!

Schette:  Shush, Chief. Where’d you get that hairpin from, Rick?

Faulk:  Black people’s hair is different from white people’s hair.

Schette:  What?

Chief:  Losin’ a lotta blood here!

Schette:  Shush it, Chief. The Russians will hear you. God what do they have, unlimited ammo out there?

Faulk:  Got it!

(The handcuffs unlock and Ricky tosses them across the van, rubbing his wrists…)

Schette:  Whoa! Did you see that, Chief?

Chief:  I think I’m going to faint.

Schette:  You do that, Chief. You do that.


(Andrei Rublov laughs heartily and puffs on a cigar from the safety of the warehouse as his men unleash hell outside…)

Rublov:  For Mother Russia!

Mary:  You’re a monster.

Rublov:  Relax. They’re not even Americans. They’re British.

Mary:  Well…you’re still not a nice person.

Bernadette:  All this noise and commotion can’t be good for the baby.

Rublov:  Oh, you and baby! “This kidnapping is not good for baby!” “Holding me in this musty old warehouse is not good for baby!” “This gun battle is not good for baby!”

Mary:  Those are all valid complaints.

Rublov:  You’re a valid complaint! Ah! I spend so much time with your stupid husband, I begin to insult like him. I don’t like your husband, the Schette. I prefer your husband, pregnant lady. The Faulk. He is sensible one.


(Ricky peers around the corner at the shootout and Harry joins him…)

Schette:  Well, Chief’s dead. Whatcha thinkin’, Rick?

Faulk:  I say we go out there and shoot every last Russian on the docks.

Schette:  Well, that’s not very sensible. We don’t have any guns, ya goober. Let’s just go home until this all blows over.

Faulk:  Our wives are in there, Harry!

Schette:  Ah crap, I forgot about that. Man, friggin’ Rublov. I’ll be honest with you, I really can’t stand that guy.

Faulk:  We need to find guns.

Schette:  Lotta dead bodies out there. Let’s just take one of theirs.

Faulk:  We’re not walking into a war zone unarmed. Let’s check the van.

(As they walk back to the van, Harry gazes closely at Ricky’s hair until he pushes him away…)

Schette:  So, where does the hairpin go?


(Agent Faulkland comes out from behind the dumpster and starts marching toward the warehouse as bodies fall around her, both English and Russian alike…)

Faulkland:  Rublov! Get out here, ya wanker!

(Rublov storms out of the warehouse, leaving his captives behind…)

Rublov:  What is this? “Wanker”?

(A dying Agent Allibaster raises his head weakly…)

Allibaster:  It means you’re a bloody darby. Heh.

(Rublov puts a bullet through the agent’s brain and Gwinnifer pulls her gun on the Russian. Rublov draws his back on her and they freeze, guns trained on each other’s hearts…)

Rublov:  So, it has come to this.

Faulkland:  Indeed. I’ve been chasing you for a long time, Andrei Rublov.

Rublov:  I always knew it would end like this. Just not at hands of woman.

Faulkland:  The days of the Borscht Crime Syndicate are over.

Rublov:  (cackles)  You fool. Borscht is still out there, plotting. He will come for you.

Faulkland:  Not if I have anything to say about it.

(Agent Faulkland fires and Rublov staggers back, stares down at the hole in his chest, looks back up at the MI-5 agent, fires once and drops to the ground, dead…)

Faulkland:  (unbuttoning her blouse)  Good thing I wore my bulletproof–  (sees a torrent of blood trickling down her chest)  Oh, bloody hell.


(Ricky and Harry come tearing around the corner; Ricky with a crowbar and Harry with a spare tire…)

Schette:  (hollering to no one in particular)  It’s the best we could do on short notice!

Faulk:  Die Russians, di–what the hell?

(The detectives survey the landscape of bodies, not a single man left standing…)

Schette:  Whoa, what happened here?

Faulk:  Well, there was that gunfight.

Schette:  Yeah, but still.

Faulk:  Looks like everybody’s dead.

Schette:  Well, that solves that. Let’s go home, buddy.

Faulk:  Our wives?

Schette:  Right.

(The detectives enter the warehouse as Mary is helping Bernadette up…)

Bernadette:  I think my water just broke.

Schette:  Gross.

(Ricky embraces his wife delicately…)

Faulk:  You’re safe now, baby. I love you.

Bernadette:  That’s great, hon. Can we go to a hospital?

Faulk:  Right.

(Harry and Ricky and their wives make their way back to the van…)

Schette:  Yeesh, gonna have to hose the Chief outta there. So. New York. LA. Where to next?

Faulk:  (ponders)  I’ve heard good things about Miami.

Comments Off on Faulk ‘N Schette: Buddy Cops – Episode 209

%d bloggers like this: