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Faulk ‘N Schette: Buddy Cops – Episode 303

Posted in erbooker by erbooker on 03/28/2013


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

Episode 303 – Boys In The Hood

Schette:  …and they shoot missiles out of the dune buggy. You mean to tell me you’ve really never seen Megaforce?

Anne:  Harry, I’m on the phone.

(Det. Harry Schette is bothering Chief Chief’s secretary, Anne Landis…)

Schette:  There’s flying motorcycles, too. Did I tell you about the flying motorcycles?

Anne:  Harry, get away from me.

Chief:  (hollering from office)  Faulk ‘n Schette! Get in here!

Schette:  (turning to Ricky as they enter the Chief’s office)  She wants me.

Faulk:  Who?

Schette:  The…the girl. The girl right over there.

Chief:  Faulk ‘n Schette, I need you to go to Inglewood Middle School this morning to talk about drugs.

Schette:  Right, now is this some sort of sting operation? Are we posing as students? We 21 Jump Streetin’ this bitch?

Faulk:  Harry, how are you going to pose as a middle schooler? You have a receding hairline.

Schette:  I’ve had the same hairline since I was seven!

Chief:  I need you to cover for Detectives Hall and Holyfield and teach a class on drug awareness.

Faulk:  But Chief, what about the Armenian beheading case? We’ve got a lead. This Mexican guy, Blanco.

Chief:  It’s gonna have to wait. The commissioner and the mayor’s office are pushing this new drug program and it’s all hands on deck.

Schette:  We’ll do this for you, Chief. But we’re gonna need some sample drugs from the evidence room to show the kids.

Chief:  Nice try, Schette.

Schette:  (pouts, slinks out of office)


(Det. Ricky Faulk is driving east to Inglewood, while Harry sticks his head out the passenger’s side window…)

Schette:  Can’t believe Chief is making us teach a buncha ankle-biters how to smoke drugs when we should be shaking down Mexicans for information.

Faulk:  You know we’re teaching them not to do drugs, right?

Schette:  Tell ya one thing, I’m gonna need one big reefer blunt after teaching snot-sleeves all day.

Faulk:  It’s just one little class in the morning. And since when have you smoked pot?

Schette:  Hey, I’m cool. I’m cool as hell. I’ll do all the drugs.

Faulk:  Maybe you should let me do the talking.


(Harry peeks out from behind the curtain at a cavernous auditorium filled with the echoed shouts of raucous schoolchildren…)

Schette:  (turning back to Ricky)  One little class, huh?

Faulk:  So the Chief may have misrepresented it a bit.

Schette:  I can’t do this, Ricky. I’ve got stage fright.

Faulk:  Just go outside, take a deep breath and relax. You’ll be fine, Harry.

(Harry heads out the back door to the loading dock where three seventh graders are hanging out…)

Schette:  (flop-sweating)  What’s that, a cigarette?

Seventh Grader:  (glances down at joint)  Uh, yes sir.

Schette:  Gimme that.  (snatches the joint, takes a giant puff, collapses into a cloud of hacking coughs)  Is that a KOOL? I hate KOOLs.

Seventh Grader:  (grins)  You are cool.

Schette:  (smiles)  Oh, yeah?

Seventh Grader:  Yeah, I’ve never seen anybody take that big a hit before.

Schette:  (clumsily leans against wall)  I’m a regular Joe Camel. Wow, the air feels amazing out here. Ricky was right.

Faulk:  (pokes head out door)  Harry, get in here. We’re about to start.

Schette:  Right. You boys better find your seats. It’s gonna be one helluva show.

Seventh Grader:  (chuckles)  I bet.

Schette:  (following Ricky inside, feeling his partner’s coat sleeve)  Oh my god, Ricky. Is this velvet?

Faulk:  What? No. Get off me.


(On stage…)

Faulk:  Hello, Inglewood Middle School. I’m Detective Ricky Faulk and this is my partner, Detective Harr–

(Three shots ring out and children dive under their seats screaming as Harry points his smoking glock at the ceiling…)

Faulk:  Harry, what the fu–

Schette:  Drugs are bad, kids. They’re bad for your health and they’re bad for the community. Don’t do drugs.

(Ricky stares at Harry in disbelief as he lowers his weapon…)

Faulk:  That’s it?

Schette:  Straight and to the point, old friend.

Faulk:  Then what the hell did you fire your service revolver for?

Schette:  What the heck are you talking about, Ricky? I didn’t–  (glances down at the gun in his hand)  Oh, shit.  (drops gun, it fires offstage and hits the wall just above the head of a teacher who leaps out of the way)  Ooh sorry, sir. Good eye.

(Ricky grabs Harry and pulls him aside, as kids nervously get back into their seats…)

Faulk:  What’s gotten into you?

Schette:  I dunno, maybe it was that kid’s KOOL cigarette I borrowed outside to calm down.

(Ricky leans in and smells Harry’s breath…)

Faulk:  That wasn’t a cigarette. You smoked weed, you idiot. And by the looks of it, it may have been laced with something.

Schette:  (gasps, turns back around)  Children, my partner has just informed me that I am currently on drugs. Let this be a lesson to you all.

(A third grader in the front row raises her hand…)

Schette:  Yes, you with the bubbles of light popping around your head.

Third Grader:  You mean, if I do drugs I’ll grow up to be a policeman like you?

Schette:  Exactly. It also gives me confidence when speaking to the opposite sex. Booze helps with this as well.

Faulk:  (leaping in front of Harry)  No! No, no. Det. Schette here is performing our famous anti-drug skit, “Good Cop, Bad Cop”.

Third Grader:  (raises hand again)  Is he the Good Cop?

Faulk:  No! He’s the Bad Cop.  (glances back at Harry crawling on all fours, meowing)  He’s a bad, bad cop.

(The school security guard comes sprinting into the auditorium, gun drawn…)

Guard:  Shots fired! Shots fired!

Faulk:  (hands up)  No, no! We’re fine up here. I’m a Detec–


(Ricky slumps to the ground, holding his shin…)

Faulk:  Ow, goddammit!

Guard:  (holsters gun)  Everything’s under control, children. And remember, don’t do drugs.

Schette:  Meow.


(Det.’s Faulk & Schette are sitting on the back of an ambulance outside Inglewood Middle School that afternoon, as the students are let out. Ricky is having his leg bandaged up, while Harry sips on an orange juice…)

Schette:  Well, that’s the last time I smoke KOOL cigarettes.

Faulk:  Did you even listen to anything that M.E. told you?

Schette:  (shakes head)  I’ll level with you, Ricky. I’m still tripping real hard. Hearin’ all sorts of stuff. Maybe I’m allergic to menthol?

Faulk:  (sighs)

(An officer approaches the ambulance with a soggy package and hands it to Ricky…)

Officer:  This arrived at HQ for you, Detectives. Chief said to deliver it at once. It’s addressed from a ‘Blanco’?

(Det.’s Faulk & Schette exchange a glance and Ricky starts to open the package…)

Schette:  Blanco! Ay caramba!

(Ricky and Harry peer inside to find the decapitated head of an Armenian gangster…)

Schette:  Oh, grody!

Faulk:  We are dealing with one sick, depraved individual. He’s going after the Armenians and he wants us to watch. Harry, we might have a gang war on our hands….Harry?

(Ricky turns to Harry who’s staring at the sky, glassy-eyed…)

Schette:  Ricky, do you think the Sun and the Moon are sisters?

Faulk:  (sighs)


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