Wrong Cops Page #5

I'm not doing this for the money.

- You know what?

Get the f*** out of my office,

you and your dumb friend.

Get the f*** out of here!

I've had enough of you.

Okay?

- I think...

I left the hose on

in my garden.

I've got to get home.

If I don't,

it'll be such a waste.

- It'll be such a waste.

Loves the saxophone--

You're gone and I--

- Hey, a**hole! Open up!

Rough!

Open up!

- His door's always unlocked.

- Rough!

Are you there, buddy?

What the f*** are you doing

all dressed in your bathtub?

- I wanted to kill myself.

- What?

- Okay, then what?

- Then he took me-

he duct-taped-

he used-he-then he put

gray duct tape on me

and took me to someplace-

his house-

and it was disgusting.

- And where is this house, exactly?

- I have no idea.

On a street?

- On a street.

Okay.

Anything else?

- And then he takes off

all of his clothes,

undresses

down to his underwear,

starts playing some horrible music

very loud.

I have no idea

why he was in his underwear.

It was probably

the most disturbing moment

of my entire life.

- Can you feel it?

Can you hear it now?

This is what I call music!

Can you feel the beat?

This is real music,

David Dolores Frank!

- I really can't stay, sir.

I have homework to do.

- Forget your damn homework!

Listen to this, for f***'s sake!

This is more important!

Can you feel it?

You have to listen with your gut!

This is where music happens.

Do you understand what I'm saying?

In your guts!

In your organs!

Africa!

You understand?

- Yes.

- Good!

That's lesson number one.

You have any questions?

Hey!

David Dolores Frank!

Come back here!

Oh!

I'm not done with you!

- Mm-hmm.

- Why aren't you using

a typewriter?

ln movies, they use typewriters.

You're writing it with a pen,

and you're not using a typewriter.

Why aren't you using a typewriter?

- We're not in a movie,

David Dolores Frank,

and we don't have typewriters

here at the police station.

That's bullshit.

- Okay, it's not a movie.

- Now I'm gonna show you

a photo,

and I want you to tell me

if you recognize the man

you're talking about.

Here.

- I'd prefer if you referred to him

as my "aggressor,"

not "the man."

- Your aggressor, if you prefer.

- Yeah, it's important,

Because he's not a normal person.

- Take a look at the photo

and tell me if you see your aggressor

there.

- Okay.

- I need to show you something.

- What?

- Come.

- Now?

- Yes.

Come on.

- Okay.

- You are not going to believe this.

- Oh...my...God.

How much is in here?

- $13,000.

Isn't that crazy?

- Oh, sh*t.

Where did you get this?

- That's my business.

- F***!

- Crazy, isn't it?

- Give me some.

- No!

Are you stupid or what?

Give it back!

- Do you know how much

f***ing money

you have in here, b*tch?

Give me some!

- Are you crazy?

That's my money!

Stop it!

- You're acting

like a real f***ing b*tch here!

Give me some!

- No!

- Ohh!

Ugh!

- Screw you!

- That's the one. That's him.

I recognize him. That is the man.

- Out.

- W-why?

Why?

- Get out.

- Us?

- What?

- Get the f*** out!

- Wait, whoa, whoa.

- Get out!

- Ow!

- Aah!

Motherfucking b*tch!

Ooh!

- Yes?

- Hey, it's Duke.

- Hi.

- So, youre alive.

- Yes, I'm alive.

I'm fine.

- You sound strange.

Why are you breathing

like that?

- That's nothing.

I'm just cold. Nothing.

- So are you finished

with your bullshit now or what?

- Yeah.

I tell you, I'm fine.

- Good..

If I ever see you

in such a homo

state of weakness again,

I will kill you myself.

Do you understand?

- Do that.

That works for me.

- Be a man, Rough!

Fag.

What the f*** are you doing?

Why don't you raise the shutter

instead of crawling out

like a f***ing lizard?

- It's broken.

It won't open anymore.

I need to get it fixed.

God.

You Chinese people.

You make me laugh.

You're really good salespeople,

but for everything else,

you really are big dweebs.

Get the f***ing thing fixed!

This is ridiculous!

- I'll take care of it.

Geez. Here.

- How many do we have this time?

- There's been a little problem.

It's not the usual.

- What do you mean?

Look, I can't catch the rats anymore.

I-I think they figured out

how my trap works.

It's over.

I didn't catch

a single one this week.

- Wait a minute.

You want me to sell the dope

in this?

You can't be f***ing serious.

- Why not?

It-it's kind of the same.

It's the same size.

You can put it in your pocket

like a rat.

It's the same.

- It's disgusting to touch!

It stinks!

Are you sick?

Are you trying to kill my business?

F***ing fish?

- I can't help it, Duke.

I'm telling you,

I can't catch the rats anymore.

They're too smart.

- Sh*t!

F***ing...piece of...sh*t!

F***.

- Daddy?

What is this?

- Oh, no.

Oh, no!

No.

- Hey, there.

How are you?

- I'm great.

I'm not the guy who's dead,

so I can't complain.

What do you want?

- You think I could get a hit

off that joint?

Cemeteries stress me out,

and I think a little toke would help.

- Yeah, you know,

this is not actually smoking

just for the hell of it.

I'm testing a new weed,

so I have to smoke the whole joint

to test the quality, you know?

- I understand.

- Sorry.

- Not a problem.

Is that your joint that

smells like fish?

- No.

No one has told me anything.

What happened, exactly?

- He stabbed himself in the throat

with some garden tool.

- Oh, f***, no.

- Disgusting.

- That's tough, though.

- Yeah.

- Shh!

- Hey, leave us alone.

- Yeah, why don't you go suck

each other's balls

and leave us alone?

- No, we don't do that.

You should show some respect.

This is a funeral,

God damn it.

- Okay, everybody.

Listen up.

I'm sorry.

My wife's right in the middle

of giving birth,

so I'm not gonna be able

to hang around forever here.

Um...

I have a prepared speech.

Don't know where the hell it is now.

Um, anyway, uh...

I'm not really very good

at this kind of bullshit,

but what I can say is,

Simon William Shine,

also known as Sunshine,

took his own life into his hands.

And as I speak to you now,

his tormented soul

is most certainly on its way to hell,

since, as we all know,

anyone who goes against

God's will

ends up in hell.

So, Sunshine...

I salute you.

You will forever remain

in our hearts,

and I wish you a good journey.

- Excuse me, Captain.

I don't want to offend you,

but you were just saluting

the sky,

and hell is under our feet,

underground.

- Yeah, I know that.

It just seems more natural

to salute the soul of the departed

towards the sky

rather than toward the ground.

Don't you agree?

It's more poetic.

- I don't think so.

It looks weird.

- Oh, it's even weirder

to salute the ground.

Look.

Huh?

"Hi!

Have a nice trip down to hell,

buddy!"

Huh?

Right?

- Okay, I take it back.

You're right.

Sorry.

- Well, if you want my opinion,

Captain,

I think we have the wrong idea

about hell,

just exactly like

we have the wrong idea

about paradise.

- What do you mean by that,

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