(no subject)
The computer problem had nothing to do with AMD or Norton. It was a little web-optimizer dealie hogging up all of the processor stuff.
Blah blah blah. It's too hot to do anything, and there's nothing on tv, so I typed up a little cop movie parody to entertain myself, and because it's the only thing I'm good at.
Ext. Alleyway. Night. Three men, a RUSSIAN, a UKRANIAN, and - whatever - another RUSSIAN anxiously wait beside a van. They are NEFARIOUS.
RUSSIAN #1: Our contact is late.
UKRANIAN: He will be here.
RUSSIAN #2: He had better show up. I don't know what else I'm going to do with all of this heroin.
Another van pulls up. A man, obviously an UNDERCOVER COP, exits. He walks up to the three men.
UNDERCOER COP: What...up. I am here to buy your illegal substance, as to our previosly agreed upon plan...homies. I hope everything is in order.
RUSSIAN #2: You do not look like drug dealer.
UNDERCOVER COP: What?! Of course I am. Look at all this bling-bling. Surely, you're not trying to front, G?
RUSSIAN #1: [pulls out gun] Ees cop! [shoots UNDERCOVER COP, who the dies]
[They all drive off in the van.]
UKRANIAN: Long live Stalin!
*Blaring saxophone music*
INT. Police station. Respectively, POLICE CHIEF's office.
POLICE CHIEF: O'Malley, I know Shaughnessy and you was close. You gotta let it go. [dramatic, emotionally loaded pause.] Dat's why I'm takin' you off da case.
O'MALLEY: Chief!
POLICE CHIEF: I know. For some reason I'm going to ignore the time and effort you and your recently deceased partner, who was like a brother to you, put into the Montoya case. I'm moving you to homicide, or car theft, or something.
O'MALLEY: This is an outrage!
POLICE CHIEF: I got orders, O'Malley. I'm also giving you a new, wet-behind-the-ears parter unused to your certain brand of renegade-justice detectiving. I'm sure hillarty will ensue. Bye-bye, now.
O'MALLEY: This will not stand! I'll get you...*raises fists to ceiling* MONTOYA!
Pan across a very large Colombian estate and then, INT. COLOMBIAN ESTATE:
RUSSIAN #1: The plan did not go as...planned. Our connection, he vas policeman. Ve kill him.
UKRANIAN: And my van, it is so filled with drugs, I cannot take it anywhere. I have to rollerblade around town. It's so embarassing.
MONTOYA: Theese turn of events has deeply saddened me. But, muchachos, hope is not lost. You wheel go back to America, and you wheel find other buyers. In the same town. Ha - then we wheel show those greeeengos who is the better drug dealer.
RUSSIAN #2: I em sure stupid New York policemen will not fool us again.
RUSSIAN #1: ...New York? You are sure we were not in Chicago?
MONTOYA: Aye chichuahua! I thougt I sent you to L.A.! Eet's all so confusing, where is my burro?
INT. Car. O'MALLEY, and his new rookie partner, ROOKIE PARTNER, are driving around.
ROOKIE PARTNER: Golly! My first day on the job, with my new partner! What laws will we rigidly obey today?
O'MALLEY: None. Look, kid. If we're going to work together, there's one thing you have to understand: I hate you. I'm out to get Montoya. In order to do so, I need to use my brazen, renegade justice style of detectiving, instead of going through normal channels, i.e. customs enforcement, and I can't have some rookie cop cramping my style.
ROOKIE PARTNER: Whatever. Can we stop for ice cream?
O'MALLEY: Yes, but I still hate you.
ROOKIE PARTNER: You know what? I don't think you hate me at all. Actually you sound like you're trying to protect me. I suspect you isolate those closest to you, in order to keep them from being harmed by your brazen, renegade justice style of detectiving. You probably find the fact that your partner died while trying to catch Montoya alone very disturbing. You're probably sure that, had you not dragged him into that situation, had you used those 'normal channels' of law enforcement, your partner would still be alive today. You probably blame yourself for his death. Right? Am I right?
O'MALLEY: *seethe* God, whatever.
EXT. Day. A basketball court in a ghetto neighborhood. People are playing basketball, and listening to loud rap music, which will be featured again later during the end credits.
O'MALLEY [to ROOKIE]: Wait here.
ROOKIE: Fine! But I'm going to change all of your radio pre-sets!
O'MALLEY seeks out COMIC RELIEF, namely, CHRIS TUCKER.
CHRIS TUCKER: ManwhatchoodoinhereIalreadytoldyouIain'tgonnahelpyououtnomo'youdumbasssuckanearlygotmekilledIgotmyrights-
O'MALLEY: Yeah, you've got rights. The right to get your ass kicked if you don't help me set up a meeting with Montoya's men! [to self: That was pretty clever.]
CHRIS TUCKER: Manwhatchoothinkin'Idon'tknownoMontoyacan'tyoujustleaveabrothaalonecomingupinherethreateningmeanallthatshitIdon'tknownothin'boutnoMontoyasmen-
[O'MALLEY shoots Chris Tucker in the foot.]
CHRIS TUCKER: AHHHHmyfootdamnfoolshotoffmyfoottryintogetameetingwithsomemuthfuckanamedMontoyaIdon'tknownothingboutnodamnMontoya-
[O'MALLEY aims at Chris Tucker's other foot.]
CHRIS TUCKER: All right! All right! I'llgetyouthemeeting. DamnmothafuckacominupinhereshootinbrothasinthefootI'mgonnagetonNancyGrace'sshowandtalkaboutpolicebrutality-
O'MALLEY: Tonight!
[returning to the police car.]
ROOKIE: Hey. What were you doing? Trying to set up a meeting with those Montoya guys? Can't you just call them yourself? If you have any names you can, like, google them. Man, you can google everything. I bet Montoya's got a website. Did you try Montoya.com?
O'MALLEY: No. I just set up a meeting with my intermediary. Tonight. I'll drop you off at the station. I need to stop by the 'Big and Scary' clothes store and buy an outfit that says "VENGEANCE".
ROOKIE: What you've got on right now is pretty nice.
O'MALLEY: Really? When I put it together this morning, I was trying to say "DESPONDENT".
ROOKIE: Yeah, I can see that. You know, before I passed out momentarily from heat exhaustion, I got to thinking: As your partner, I've decided I can't let you do this on your own. You could be killed. Our twenty minutes together driving around in this crown victoria have been precious to me, and I've come to love you. Manly love, not that gay stuff. I've decided to disregard my devotion to obeying laws and regulations and come with you tonight, instead of tattling on you, or trying to set up some elaborate S.W.A.T. thing with helicopters, and laser beams, and explosions and stuff. Oh, man that'd be sweet! *makes piew piew piew noises, pretending to shoot things*
O'MALLEY: Well, OK. But first I have to tell my ex-wife that I can't make it to my daughter's ballet recital tonight.
ROOKIE: You said we could go out for ice cream.
O'MALLEY: Yes, however, as this next scene shall illustrate: I am the king of broken promises.
Ext. Middle class neighborhood.
O'MALLEY: Wait here.
ROOKIE: Wait here, wait there. You're not the boss of me.
[EX-WIFE and ANNOYING CHILD emerge from home.]
ANNOYING CHILD: Daddy, daddy! I'm a pretty ballerina! Watch me dance! Watch me dance!
EX-WIFE: [combative, oozing attitude.] I supose you've come by to tell us you can't make it to BeckySueAnn's recital?
O'MALLEY: I'm sorry, but I've got to put some really bad men away tonight.
EX-WIFE: You always put murderers and drug dealers ahead of us! God, where are your priorities? It's like you're a cop, or something. Is all of this avenging-your-partners-death stuff more important than watching your child twirl around like a moron for and hour and a half?
O'MALLEY: Well, obviously.
EX-WIFE: Just leave. BeckySueAnn, come inside.
ANNOYING CHILD: Bye daddy!
[O'MALLEY returns to the car.]
ROOKIE: You know she's going to grow up to be a lesbian, don't you?
O'MALLEY: It's not psychological, it's genetic.
ROOKIE: It can be both, duh.
O'MALLEY: Whatever. Off to Baskin Robbins.
ROOKIE: You kept your promise!
[drives off.]
[O'Malley and Rookie drive up to an abandoned warehouse.]
ROOKIE: This isn't Baskin Robbins.
O'MALLEY: Baskin Robbins burned down.
ROOKIE: What about Dairy Queen?
O'MALLEY: Shut up about the ice cream. This is a very heavy situation. Now let's just do a mental checklist before we do this thang, alright? OK - revenge speech, check. Gun, check. That's about it.
ROOKIE: In this sort of situation, isn't it customary to have a great, big duffle bag full of money handy, to show the dealers that we're for serious?
O'MALLEY: Dammit. I knew we were forgetting something. Whatever. We'll just have to wing it.
ROOKIE: Fair enough. Let's rock.
[they enter the abandoned warehouse. The *haunted* abandoned warehouse. The three Eastern European gentlemen surround the same van.]
O'MALLEY: You got the goods?
RUSSIAN #1: The what?
O'MALLEY: The goods? The merchandise?
RUSSIAN #2: Is this meeting for the heroin, or the counterfeit money? Goddammit, is today the 27th? I hope no one has been messing with my cellphone again...
UKRANIAN: If you would just put Tetris on my phone, I wouldn't have to borrow yours to play.
RUSSIAN #1: If I put Tetris on your phone, you would do nothing but play Tetris all day. *mocking voice* Why ees always l-shape bricks? Where are all lines hiding?
ROOKIE: Actually, we are here for the heroin.
RUSSIAN #1: Ah, good. So - gentlemen: where is the customary great, big duffle bag full of money so that we know you are for serious?
O'MALLEY: Where is the heroin?
RUSSIAN #1: How we know you have money?
O'MALLEY: How do we know you have the goods?
UKRANIAN: Because we are drug dealers, duh. And stop calling our stuff "the goods". It sounds very stupid.
MONTOYA: [emerging from the shadows] Ci, muy stupido.
[EVERYONE gasps : Montoya!]
MONTOYA: Ci, it is I... Montoya. I was lonely in the grande Colombian hacienda of mine. There was never anything good on tv, and my bodyguards - they tire of monopoly. I decide I come to this city which, evidently, I find is Detroit, to see my amigos in action. Please! Do not let me disturb you. I only wish to observe. I shall remain - hidden- in the shadows, like the cucaberra. You will not even notice me. Please, continue.
RUSSIAN #1: Actually, now that we've had this little interlude, I would like to add dimension to our axis of nefariousness. [To RUSSIAN #2:] Do you think you could do an English accent, something Tim Roth-y?
RUSSIAN #2, now NIGEL: Right-o.
UKRANIAN: Am I still Ukranian?
RUSSIAN #1: Yes. Now, gentlemen - to business. Do you have the money?
O'MALLEY: I thought we went over this. You go first.
NIGEL: Roight, you lot. [throws open the van door, exposing the goods ]. 'Ere, are you 'appy now?
ROOKIE: [screaming into his wristwatch] ALPHA TEAM, GO GO GO!
{Momentary puzzlement, and then...]
THE ONLY RUSSIAN LEFT: Ees cop!! [everyone begins to shoot everything.]
[O'MALLEY and ROOKIE dodge behind crates, shooting endless rounds into random directions.]
O'MALLEY: What is wrong with you??
ROOKIE: While you were ruining your daughter's life, I took the liberty of putting together a S.W.A.T. team dealie. That was the signal for all of the cops to burst in and kill everyone. Let me try again, only this time I'll yell louder -
O'MALLEY: It's too late, we'll have to shoot our way out!
ROOKIE: I can't! Trigger...finger...cramping... so hot in unventilated warehouse..should have worn..sensible shoes...
O'MALLEY: Why not my finger, God? Why not mine??
MONTOYA: [to assembled eastern europeans, and Nigel] Amigos! Vaminos! We must leave...pronto!
O'MALLEY: Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!! I'm calling you out, Montoya! You killed my partner, and now you must pay!
MONTOYA: Stupid greeengo! I have the upper hand, here. I could kill you right now, and be done with this...whatever the Spanish word for situation is. In fact, I think I wheel kill you. Prepare to die!
[He fires. ROOKIE leaps out from stack of crates.]
ROOKIE: Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
[he is shot.]
O'MALLEY: My rookie partner! You took a bullet for me, why?
ROOKIE: That's what partners do, partner. Stupid Alpha team!
O'MALLEY: You're going to get through this! You will live! Hang in there, rookie partner!
ROOKIE: God, O'Malley - it's getting darker...I don't want to die... I've never seen a full episode of Kolchak: The Night Stalker...heartless sci-fi channel, arranging their programing schedule for the unemployed...Death! Death! Thou comest upon me...*urgle*
MONTOYA: Already, your partner gives the death rattle! Ha ha, policio! I have keeeled another who is close to you! How many more deaths will your brazen, renegade justice style of detectiving cause?
O'MALLEY: Just. one. more. [aims at Montoya.]
RUSSIAN: Hey, I forgot - we have guns, too.
[Suddenly - ALPHA TEAM bursts in, literally. They drive a large van through the warehouse doors, commandos in black ninja suits break through windows, through the ceiling, dangling on ropes and stuff. They surround Montoya and the eastern europeans, and Nigel.]
ALPHA TEAM LEADER: Who contacted us on an ultra-super secret ALPHA TEAM wristwatch communicator?
MONTOYA: Uh, I did! Thees man in a suit of despondence and the dead man behind him are trespassing on private property!
ALPHA TEAM LEADER: Lawlessness! I hate lawlessness!
O'MALLEY: That's so not true. I'm a cop, and this is an undercover *sting* and because of you jackasses, a man is dead and the property value on this warehouse has been sliced by a third.
ALPHA TEAM LEADER: What? I didn't kill anyone...oh, my tardiness. Well, myself and the rest of ALPHA TEAM were busy drinkng, ok? We're not perfect, we have vices like everyone else.
MONTOYA: Do you have a vice for heroin?
ALPHA TEAM LEADER #2: I do! I do!
MONTOYA: Would you like to buy some?
ALPHA TEAM LEADER: *gasp* Lawlessness! Carlos Mencia Velasquez Ricardo Guetierrez Montoya, you are under arrest for being a very, very bad person.
MONTOYA: I only wanted to sell my goods!
O'MALLEY: You won't be selling anything where you're going, Montoya. Except sex.
[Montoya and the eastern European gentlemen, and Nigel, are lead away. The POLICE CHIEF drives into the warehouse.]
POLICE CHIEF: O'Malley! What in the name of Sam Hill is going on here?
O'MALLEY: Justice, Chief. Brazen, renegade style justice.
POLICE CHIEF: Is that your rookie partner? Jesus Christ, is he dead?
O'MALLEY: Yes, justice. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a dance recital to attend.
*promised rap music from ghetto basketball court scene*
Fin
This has been a Cynicalpenguins production (c) 2006
Blah blah blah. It's too hot to do anything, and there's nothing on tv, so I typed up a little cop movie parody to entertain myself, and because it's the only thing I'm good at.
Ext. Alleyway. Night. Three men, a RUSSIAN, a UKRANIAN, and - whatever - another RUSSIAN anxiously wait beside a van. They are NEFARIOUS.
RUSSIAN #1: Our contact is late.
UKRANIAN: He will be here.
RUSSIAN #2: He had better show up. I don't know what else I'm going to do with all of this heroin.
Another van pulls up. A man, obviously an UNDERCOVER COP, exits. He walks up to the three men.
UNDERCOER COP: What...up. I am here to buy your illegal substance, as to our previosly agreed upon plan...homies. I hope everything is in order.
RUSSIAN #2: You do not look like drug dealer.
UNDERCOVER COP: What?! Of course I am. Look at all this bling-bling. Surely, you're not trying to front, G?
RUSSIAN #1: [pulls out gun] Ees cop! [shoots UNDERCOVER COP, who the dies]
[They all drive off in the van.]
UKRANIAN: Long live Stalin!
*Blaring saxophone music*
INT. Police station. Respectively, POLICE CHIEF's office.
POLICE CHIEF: O'Malley, I know Shaughnessy and you was close. You gotta let it go. [dramatic, emotionally loaded pause.] Dat's why I'm takin' you off da case.
O'MALLEY: Chief!
POLICE CHIEF: I know. For some reason I'm going to ignore the time and effort you and your recently deceased partner, who was like a brother to you, put into the Montoya case. I'm moving you to homicide, or car theft, or something.
O'MALLEY: This is an outrage!
POLICE CHIEF: I got orders, O'Malley. I'm also giving you a new, wet-behind-the-ears parter unused to your certain brand of renegade-justice detectiving. I'm sure hillarty will ensue. Bye-bye, now.
O'MALLEY: This will not stand! I'll get you...*raises fists to ceiling* MONTOYA!
Pan across a very large Colombian estate and then, INT. COLOMBIAN ESTATE:
RUSSIAN #1: The plan did not go as...planned. Our connection, he vas policeman. Ve kill him.
UKRANIAN: And my van, it is so filled with drugs, I cannot take it anywhere. I have to rollerblade around town. It's so embarassing.
MONTOYA: Theese turn of events has deeply saddened me. But, muchachos, hope is not lost. You wheel go back to America, and you wheel find other buyers. In the same town. Ha - then we wheel show those greeeengos who is the better drug dealer.
RUSSIAN #2: I em sure stupid New York policemen will not fool us again.
RUSSIAN #1: ...New York? You are sure we were not in Chicago?
MONTOYA: Aye chichuahua! I thougt I sent you to L.A.! Eet's all so confusing, where is my burro?
INT. Car. O'MALLEY, and his new rookie partner, ROOKIE PARTNER, are driving around.
ROOKIE PARTNER: Golly! My first day on the job, with my new partner! What laws will we rigidly obey today?
O'MALLEY: None. Look, kid. If we're going to work together, there's one thing you have to understand: I hate you. I'm out to get Montoya. In order to do so, I need to use my brazen, renegade justice style of detectiving, instead of going through normal channels, i.e. customs enforcement, and I can't have some rookie cop cramping my style.
ROOKIE PARTNER: Whatever. Can we stop for ice cream?
O'MALLEY: Yes, but I still hate you.
ROOKIE PARTNER: You know what? I don't think you hate me at all. Actually you sound like you're trying to protect me. I suspect you isolate those closest to you, in order to keep them from being harmed by your brazen, renegade justice style of detectiving. You probably find the fact that your partner died while trying to catch Montoya alone very disturbing. You're probably sure that, had you not dragged him into that situation, had you used those 'normal channels' of law enforcement, your partner would still be alive today. You probably blame yourself for his death. Right? Am I right?
O'MALLEY: *seethe* God, whatever.
EXT. Day. A basketball court in a ghetto neighborhood. People are playing basketball, and listening to loud rap music, which will be featured again later during the end credits.
O'MALLEY [to ROOKIE]: Wait here.
ROOKIE: Fine! But I'm going to change all of your radio pre-sets!
O'MALLEY seeks out COMIC RELIEF, namely, CHRIS TUCKER.
CHRIS TUCKER: ManwhatchoodoinhereIalreadytoldyouIain'tgonnahelpyououtnomo'youdumbasssuckanearlygotmekilledIgotmyrights-
O'MALLEY: Yeah, you've got rights. The right to get your ass kicked if you don't help me set up a meeting with Montoya's men! [to self: That was pretty clever.]
CHRIS TUCKER: Manwhatchoothinkin'Idon'tknownoMontoyacan'tyoujustleaveabrothaalonecomingupinherethreateningmeanallthatshitIdon'tknownothin'boutnoMontoyasmen-
[O'MALLEY shoots Chris Tucker in the foot.]
CHRIS TUCKER: AHHHHmyfootdamnfoolshotoffmyfoottryintogetameetingwithsomemuthfuckanamedMontoyaIdon'tknownothingboutnodamnMontoya-
[O'MALLEY aims at Chris Tucker's other foot.]
CHRIS TUCKER: All right! All right! I'llgetyouthemeeting. DamnmothafuckacominupinhereshootinbrothasinthefootI'mgonnagetonNancyGrace'sshowandtalkaboutpolicebrutality-
O'MALLEY: Tonight!
[returning to the police car.]
ROOKIE: Hey. What were you doing? Trying to set up a meeting with those Montoya guys? Can't you just call them yourself? If you have any names you can, like, google them. Man, you can google everything. I bet Montoya's got a website. Did you try Montoya.com?
O'MALLEY: No. I just set up a meeting with my intermediary. Tonight. I'll drop you off at the station. I need to stop by the 'Big and Scary' clothes store and buy an outfit that says "VENGEANCE".
ROOKIE: What you've got on right now is pretty nice.
O'MALLEY: Really? When I put it together this morning, I was trying to say "DESPONDENT".
ROOKIE: Yeah, I can see that. You know, before I passed out momentarily from heat exhaustion, I got to thinking: As your partner, I've decided I can't let you do this on your own. You could be killed. Our twenty minutes together driving around in this crown victoria have been precious to me, and I've come to love you. Manly love, not that gay stuff. I've decided to disregard my devotion to obeying laws and regulations and come with you tonight, instead of tattling on you, or trying to set up some elaborate S.W.A.T. thing with helicopters, and laser beams, and explosions and stuff. Oh, man that'd be sweet! *makes piew piew piew noises, pretending to shoot things*
O'MALLEY: Well, OK. But first I have to tell my ex-wife that I can't make it to my daughter's ballet recital tonight.
ROOKIE: You said we could go out for ice cream.
O'MALLEY: Yes, however, as this next scene shall illustrate: I am the king of broken promises.
Ext. Middle class neighborhood.
O'MALLEY: Wait here.
ROOKIE: Wait here, wait there. You're not the boss of me.
[EX-WIFE and ANNOYING CHILD emerge from home.]
ANNOYING CHILD: Daddy, daddy! I'm a pretty ballerina! Watch me dance! Watch me dance!
EX-WIFE: [combative, oozing attitude.] I supose you've come by to tell us you can't make it to BeckySueAnn's recital?
O'MALLEY: I'm sorry, but I've got to put some really bad men away tonight.
EX-WIFE: You always put murderers and drug dealers ahead of us! God, where are your priorities? It's like you're a cop, or something. Is all of this avenging-your-partners-death stuff more important than watching your child twirl around like a moron for and hour and a half?
O'MALLEY: Well, obviously.
EX-WIFE: Just leave. BeckySueAnn, come inside.
ANNOYING CHILD: Bye daddy!
[O'MALLEY returns to the car.]
ROOKIE: You know she's going to grow up to be a lesbian, don't you?
O'MALLEY: It's not psychological, it's genetic.
ROOKIE: It can be both, duh.
O'MALLEY: Whatever. Off to Baskin Robbins.
ROOKIE: You kept your promise!
[drives off.]
[O'Malley and Rookie drive up to an abandoned warehouse.]
ROOKIE: This isn't Baskin Robbins.
O'MALLEY: Baskin Robbins burned down.
ROOKIE: What about Dairy Queen?
O'MALLEY: Shut up about the ice cream. This is a very heavy situation. Now let's just do a mental checklist before we do this thang, alright? OK - revenge speech, check. Gun, check. That's about it.
ROOKIE: In this sort of situation, isn't it customary to have a great, big duffle bag full of money handy, to show the dealers that we're for serious?
O'MALLEY: Dammit. I knew we were forgetting something. Whatever. We'll just have to wing it.
ROOKIE: Fair enough. Let's rock.
[they enter the abandoned warehouse. The *haunted* abandoned warehouse. The three Eastern European gentlemen surround the same van.]
O'MALLEY: You got the goods?
RUSSIAN #1: The what?
O'MALLEY: The goods? The merchandise?
RUSSIAN #2: Is this meeting for the heroin, or the counterfeit money? Goddammit, is today the 27th? I hope no one has been messing with my cellphone again...
UKRANIAN: If you would just put Tetris on my phone, I wouldn't have to borrow yours to play.
RUSSIAN #1: If I put Tetris on your phone, you would do nothing but play Tetris all day. *mocking voice* Why ees always l-shape bricks? Where are all lines hiding?
ROOKIE: Actually, we are here for the heroin.
RUSSIAN #1: Ah, good. So - gentlemen: where is the customary great, big duffle bag full of money so that we know you are for serious?
O'MALLEY: Where is the heroin?
RUSSIAN #1: How we know you have money?
O'MALLEY: How do we know you have the goods?
UKRANIAN: Because we are drug dealers, duh. And stop calling our stuff "the goods". It sounds very stupid.
MONTOYA: [emerging from the shadows] Ci, muy stupido.
[EVERYONE gasps : Montoya!]
MONTOYA: Ci, it is I... Montoya. I was lonely in the grande Colombian hacienda of mine. There was never anything good on tv, and my bodyguards - they tire of monopoly. I decide I come to this city which, evidently, I find is Detroit, to see my amigos in action. Please! Do not let me disturb you. I only wish to observe. I shall remain - hidden- in the shadows, like the cucaberra. You will not even notice me. Please, continue.
RUSSIAN #1: Actually, now that we've had this little interlude, I would like to add dimension to our axis of nefariousness. [To RUSSIAN #2:] Do you think you could do an English accent, something Tim Roth-y?
RUSSIAN #2, now NIGEL: Right-o.
UKRANIAN: Am I still Ukranian?
RUSSIAN #1: Yes. Now, gentlemen - to business. Do you have the money?
O'MALLEY: I thought we went over this. You go first.
NIGEL: Roight, you lot. [throws open the van door, exposing the goods ]. 'Ere, are you 'appy now?
ROOKIE: [screaming into his wristwatch] ALPHA TEAM, GO GO GO!
{Momentary puzzlement, and then...]
THE ONLY RUSSIAN LEFT: Ees cop!! [everyone begins to shoot everything.]
[O'MALLEY and ROOKIE dodge behind crates, shooting endless rounds into random directions.]
O'MALLEY: What is wrong with you??
ROOKIE: While you were ruining your daughter's life, I took the liberty of putting together a S.W.A.T. team dealie. That was the signal for all of the cops to burst in and kill everyone. Let me try again, only this time I'll yell louder -
O'MALLEY: It's too late, we'll have to shoot our way out!
ROOKIE: I can't! Trigger...finger...cramping... so hot in unventilated warehouse..should have worn..sensible shoes...
O'MALLEY: Why not my finger, God? Why not mine??
MONTOYA: [to assembled eastern europeans, and Nigel] Amigos! Vaminos! We must leave...pronto!
O'MALLEY: Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!! I'm calling you out, Montoya! You killed my partner, and now you must pay!
MONTOYA: Stupid greeengo! I have the upper hand, here. I could kill you right now, and be done with this...whatever the Spanish word for situation is. In fact, I think I wheel kill you. Prepare to die!
[He fires. ROOKIE leaps out from stack of crates.]
ROOKIE: Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
[he is shot.]
O'MALLEY: My rookie partner! You took a bullet for me, why?
ROOKIE: That's what partners do, partner. Stupid Alpha team!
O'MALLEY: You're going to get through this! You will live! Hang in there, rookie partner!
ROOKIE: God, O'Malley - it's getting darker...I don't want to die... I've never seen a full episode of Kolchak: The Night Stalker...heartless sci-fi channel, arranging their programing schedule for the unemployed...Death! Death! Thou comest upon me...*urgle*
MONTOYA: Already, your partner gives the death rattle! Ha ha, policio! I have keeeled another who is close to you! How many more deaths will your brazen, renegade justice style of detectiving cause?
O'MALLEY: Just. one. more. [aims at Montoya.]
RUSSIAN: Hey, I forgot - we have guns, too.
[Suddenly - ALPHA TEAM bursts in, literally. They drive a large van through the warehouse doors, commandos in black ninja suits break through windows, through the ceiling, dangling on ropes and stuff. They surround Montoya and the eastern europeans, and Nigel.]
ALPHA TEAM LEADER: Who contacted us on an ultra-super secret ALPHA TEAM wristwatch communicator?
MONTOYA: Uh, I did! Thees man in a suit of despondence and the dead man behind him are trespassing on private property!
ALPHA TEAM LEADER: Lawlessness! I hate lawlessness!
O'MALLEY: That's so not true. I'm a cop, and this is an undercover *sting* and because of you jackasses, a man is dead and the property value on this warehouse has been sliced by a third.
ALPHA TEAM LEADER: What? I didn't kill anyone...oh, my tardiness. Well, myself and the rest of ALPHA TEAM were busy drinkng, ok? We're not perfect, we have vices like everyone else.
MONTOYA: Do you have a vice for heroin?
ALPHA TEAM LEADER #2: I do! I do!
MONTOYA: Would you like to buy some?
ALPHA TEAM LEADER: *gasp* Lawlessness! Carlos Mencia Velasquez Ricardo Guetierrez Montoya, you are under arrest for being a very, very bad person.
MONTOYA: I only wanted to sell my goods!
O'MALLEY: You won't be selling anything where you're going, Montoya. Except sex.
[Montoya and the eastern European gentlemen, and Nigel, are lead away. The POLICE CHIEF drives into the warehouse.]
POLICE CHIEF: O'Malley! What in the name of Sam Hill is going on here?
O'MALLEY: Justice, Chief. Brazen, renegade style justice.
POLICE CHIEF: Is that your rookie partner? Jesus Christ, is he dead?
O'MALLEY: Yes, justice. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a dance recital to attend.
*promised rap music from ghetto basketball court scene*
Fin
This has been a Cynicalpenguins production (c) 2006