Okay, well, I’ll get right to the bad news. Lieutenant Remy is down for the count. Won’t be back for a while.
It’s the Big C, I’m afraid.
Cancer, you muttonhead. But our man is a fighter. A tuff sunuvagun. And I know he’s gonna be fine.
I’ll take a ride by his place. Bring him a fruit platter.
Later. Right now, I want you guys to meet his replacement.
Replacement? How do you replace the irreplacable?
You don’t. But so long as there are scum out there with guns, we need cops. Say hello to Lieutenant Eckersley.
The hell…? This is Remy’s replacement?
This guy’s a cop? Looks like the bartender from the Regal Beagle.
Hey, don’t judge. I’ve been in this game for a long time. I bring plenty of cheese.
Wha? This ain’t no deli, Pally, despite the fact that I’ve got my own sausage casing device at my desk. This is a police station. We do men’s work here.
And I’m cool with that. Look, I can spot a cookie down Broadway with the best of ‘em.
He’s speaking in foreign codes. Could be Taliban.
Look, Sarge. I don’t know about this.
Aw, man. It’s just like Chicago in ’84. I know I’ve got the goods. I can prove it to you if you give me a chance. But I’ll probably never measure up to Remy. I guess I’ll just go pack up my stuff and head to another precinct.
::saunters off toward locker room::
You morons! Eck’s a good man. Sure, he’s no Remy. And that moustache is a little too “Jody Reed” for my tastes. But until the Dog’s back on his feet, Eck’s the best we got. Get in there and fix this, or I’ll have you workin’ meters in Southie.
Sarge is right. Let’s bring the love.
::Enter locker room::
What the? Where is that ridiculously awesome music coming from?
That’s my hi-fi system. I bring it with me wherever I go.
Whoa. Check this vinyl collection. Deep Purple. Black Sabbath. Iron Butterfly.
Any Shaun Cassidy? Not that I’d want it, but. You know…
I got a real jones for acid rock. Sorry if it’s up too loud…
If it’s too loud, you’re too old! And probably Spanish! And who needs you, then! ::kicks in with air guitar::
Well, I’ll just pack this stuff up and–
Actually, I think we owe you an apology. You may seem a little strange, with that stashe and hair like my sister Agnes and your hipster lingo. But you deserve a chance. And our respect.
::extends hand:: So welcome to the force, hippie.
Thanks guys. I won’t let you down.
Oh, and if some guy named Timlin confronts you about a “mandatory departmental prostate exam,” just ignore him.
::Meanwhile, across the hall::
That’s a touching moment, right there. Reminds me that on this force, we’re all equals.
Right, right. In the meantime, you see these empty hands? Bagel me, motherf@#ker!
* * * * * * * * * *
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