LAW AND ORDER SUV: Special Urban Vice

Characters:

            Sarge — In charge of unit, is only a head.

            Vinny — Detective, no legs, on skateboard

            Ronnie — Detective, morbidly obese

            Jones — Assistant to Sarge, deaf mute

            Herr — Detective

 

Scene:

            Squad Room. Very sleek, modern, orderly, many windows.

 

 

Episode 2

 

Vince: “Ow, goddamnit!”

 

Ronnie: “Whattup Vinnie?”

 

Vince: “I hit my head on this fucking table. Who put this fucking table here!?” His coffee, once balanced on his skateboard, has tipped over into his crotch. “Augh, shit!”

 

Sarge: (from his adjacent office, on his desktop) “What’s going on in there? Jones, carry me out there. Shit, Jones!” Starts waving his arms to get Jones’ attention, who is sitting looking out the window.

 

Jones: “Nnnnggh,” when he notices Sarge.

 

Sarge: “Jones, from now on I want you to keep your eyes on me at all times, do you hear me you fucking slacker? No, of course you don’t, you’re a fucking dummy. I have to get an assistant who’s not a goddamn cripple. Maybe this new guy they got comin’ today.” Jones carries Sarge out to the squad room from his office.

 

Sarge: “Jones, put me down on the filing cabinet. Why is there shouting in my squad room?” His head lays on a frilly pillow at head height.

 

Vince: “Sarge, somebody is movin’ the furniture around on purpose. Dey put that fuckin’ table there knowing I’d barrel right into it comin’ ‘round the corner. I want some fuckin’ blood spilled ‘round here.”

 

Sarge: “Is that true?” The crew all sits there and says nothing. Ronnie eats a doughnut, sitting in a huge, specially constructed ergonomic desk chair on wheels. Vince waits. Jones stares at Sarge fixedly from two feet away. “What can I do Vince? Maybe it was the janitor.”

 

Vince: “Wasn’t no janitor.” He pulls himself up a special ramp, so he is on his skateboard on top of his desk.

 

Sarge: “Well, when we catch the guy, we’ll throw the book at him.”

 

Ronnie: “Probly some motherfucker from dat new unit, fuckin’ wit us. What’s it called, now? Dey right down the hall…”

 

Sarge: “You mean the ‘OG’ unit: Obscene Gestures. Could be. Those guys are the worst on the force. They are specifically recruited for being the dumbest, most sophomoric motherfuckers out of the Academy. Department wanted a crackdown on people flippin’ the bird, an’ grabbin’ their crotch, and dat thing where they put the tip of their thumb on the tip of their nose and wiggle their fingers. It’s part of the Quality of Life initiative. Vince, keep an eye on them. Any of those fuckin’ geeks come round the door, I wanna know about it.”

 

Vince: “You got it, Sarge. I’ll bust a cap in his motherfuckin’…

 

Sarge: “Vince…”

 

Vince: “Alright, sorry…”

 

Sarge: “Now, listen up…hey, where’s Larry?”

 

Ronnie: “He done hadda take his kid to a violin lesson. Den he said he hadda take his dog to da vet, said he got some damn disease only Golden Retrievers get…Ah, don’ know…”

 

Sarge: “What kinda shit is that, ‘Golden Retriever Disease’? Fuckin’ dog was so good-natured he made himself puke and choked to death on it? I hate those fuckin’ dogs. My pit Rocky’d give’em a fuckin’ disease in a heartbeat….Alright, doesn’t matter, we’ll do without Detective PTA. Ronnie, you fill’em in when decides to come in.”

 

Ronnie: “Yessir.”

 

Sarge: “Now, here’s the thing…we got a new cop comin’ into the unit.” Groans all around. Sarge raises his hands. “I know, I know, it sucks takin’ in new blood…”

 

Vince: “What’s wrong with the motherfucker?”

 

Sarge: “Well, dat’s the thing. He ain’t normal.”

 

Ronnie: “What’s dat mean?”

 

Sarge: “He’s one a dese rare types, he’s gotta disease, makes him want to get something chopped off his body.” Silence.

 

Ronnie: “What’s dat mean?”

 

Sarge: “They call it B.I.I.D – Body Integrity Identity Disorder. It makes you wanta have a piece of your body amputated, ya know? Like ya just don’t like your arm, or some shit.” Silence.

 

Vince: “Dat shit ain’t funny, Sarge.”

 

Sarge: “I shit you not. Think I didn’t check it out? It’s true. People go and pay money to have their shit cut off.”

 

Vince: “So the motherfucker ain’t got no arm?”

 

Sarge: “Well, not quite. He ain’t had his surgery done yet. Dey say it’s gonna be soon, though. He finally got the department to fuckin’ pay for it. Dey didn’t wanna at first.”

 

Ronnie: “So den, what’s this sick, clown-ass motherfucker gonna get chopped off? Don’t even tell me it’s his pecker…”           

 

Sarge: “His neck.”

 

Ronnie: “Okay, stop. Just stop every motherfuckin’ thing, now. Nobody motherfuckin’ move. Dis fuckin freakshow gonna have his head chopped off?”

 

Sarge: “No, his neck, I said. He wants his head to be right on top of his shoulders. He don’t like his neck.”

 

Ronnie: “What’s wrong with his motherfuckin’ neck? It too fuckin long, like he a giraffe or somethin’?”


Sarge: “No he don’t like that it’s between his head and his shoulders, how the fuck do I know? He’s walking in right now, so everybody be cool with this retard.”

 

Herr: “Hi everyone.” He stands awkwardly at the door. He’s dressed in a black turtleneck, jeans, sneakers.

 

Sarge: “How ya’ doin there, Herr. Dis here is Vince.” Vince nods. “Ronnie.” Waves her hand, points at her full mouth. “Jones.” Bows a little. “Everybody, Detective Herr.”

 

Ronnie: “So what’s up wit you and dis neck shit, yo?”

 

Herr: “I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

 

Ronnie: “Okay. Everybody, act normal. ‘Nothin’ to see here, move along, no crazy-as-a-shitbird motherfucker jus’ walk inna squadroom’, uh-huh…shiiit.”


Sarge: “Okay, dat’s enough of the socializing. Vince, where we at wit Helen Keller?”

 

Vince: “Oh, she’s gonna start singin’ soon, boss, she’s startin’ to sweat. I’m givin’ her some time to think about what she done. She’s in the cooler, rethinking her career choices.”

 

Sarge: “Okay, good. Yeah, dat case is a slam dunk. Think the broad would be smart enough to get somebody dat ain’t blind to sell her shit for her. Shit, Officer Handy didn’t even have to change into civvies to buy a bag of dope off this dumbfuck broad. Right there in daylight in the crosswalk on Seventh Ave, with the crossing signal goin’ against ‘em, people honkin’…”

 

Vince: “Might not be a slamdunk, Sarge. Fuckin’ defense lawyer found a loophole, and this dumb-ass shithole twat might get sprung on a technicality.”

 

Sarge: “What! What’s this shit? What fuckin’ technicality?”

 

Vince: “He says there’s a law on the books that says if the perp is blind, ya gotta tell him you’re a cop before you can try to buy the dope off him. It’s like entrapment. Its da ‘I’m A Cop’ law.”

 

Sarge: “What the fuckin goddamn hell is this shit? This is always happening! Goddamn law. God, this shit gives me a headache. Jones! Get me some aspirin.” Jones has been staring directly at him the whole time. “And stop staring at me! Just stare at me what I’m talking so you can read my lips. The rest of the time stare at the goddamn floor, got me?”

 

Jones: “Nnnnnngh.” Starts staring at the floor, giving frequent furtive looks at Sarge.

 

Sarge: “Okay, I ain’t lettin this one go. There’s gotta be a way we can bet the entrapment shit. Whose got an idea?”

 

Vince: “I say we just go in the cell and kill his ass.”

 

Ronnie: “Dat’ll work. Battery dead on my video camera, though…”

 

Sarge: “NO, no, we need something that seems legal. Think, goddamnit.”

 

Ronnie: “You that on dat’s all head, motherfucker, you think.”

 

Herr: “May I make a suggestion?”

 

Sarge: “What is it, Herr, I’ll take anything right now…”

 

Herr: “Well, sir, if I’m not mistaken, the I’m A Cop law only applies if the person has been blind since birth. If he was rendered blind later in life, the law allows that he should be able to detect that the person is an officer with one of his other senses.”

 

Ronnie: “So, the motherfucker should smell his ass comin’?”

 

Herr: “Something like that, yes.”

 

Ronnie: “He wouldn’t have any problem with you, Vince. Some a dem blind motherfuckers are real sensitive. Dey can probably feel that cologne you wear on their forehead for dey even smell it…dey skin just start peelin off…”

 

Vinnie: “Dis cologne was given to me by, that’s right, my wife. And I ain’t gonna have you desecratin’ my wife.” He pulls his pistol, fires it at Ronnie, who shrieks and ducks. The bullet ricochets off a metal lampshade, and hits Herr in the neck.

 

Herr: “Herrrrrrrr!”

 

Next week on Law and Order SUV:

 

Herr, gurgling his gratitude to Vince, is taken to the hospital.

 

Sarge does a bit of research on the I’m A Cop law, and finds Herr is onto something. But, he uncovers another snag in the case of the blind heroin dealer.

Contributor

Scot Crawford

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