Captain Gannon: Frank won't be coming into work today Joe.
Friday: 24 hour virus?
Captain Gannon: Or tomorrow.
Friday: 48 hour?
Captain Gannon: Frank quit, moved to Ukiah, bought a goat farm...
Pep Streebeck: [while interrogating Muzz and getting no-where] Joe, I could use some coffee
[turns to Muzz]
Pep Streebeck: You want anything?
Emil Muzz: [defiantly] Chewing gum... Snickers bar... and my attorney, badge kisser!
Pep Streebeck: [Friday leaves Muzz alone with Streebeck] Well... it's just you... and me... *your balls*...
[pulls open a desk drawer]
Pep Streebeck: and this drawer!
[slams it shut]
Pep Streebeck: Are you crazy? Silvia Wiss wanted you!
Friday: Now let me tell you something, Streebeck. There are two things that clearly differentiate the human species from animals. One, we use cutlery. Two, we're capable of controlling our sexual urges. Now, you might be an exception, but don't drag me down into your private Hell.
Pep Streebeck: You've got a lot of repressed feelings, don't you, Friday? Must be what keeps your hair up.
[Joe Friday arrives]
Pep Streebeck: Thank God, it's Friday!
Friday: Can you tell me how much a monthly run of your "magazine" is worth?
Jerry Caesar: Well, let's just thay it's more money than you'll ever thee in your life. And I do that every month.
Friday: At least my money is clean.
Jerry Caesar: Tell you what you can do, Friday, before you go home and thtart polithing your pennieth. Why don't you go out there and get my magathineth back on the thtandth where they belong?
Friday: Listen, hotshot. I'm gonna tell you something right now. I don't care for you or for the putrid sludge you're troweling out. But until they change the laws and put you sleaze kings out of business, my job is to help you get back your stench ridden boxes of smut. And since I'll be doing it holding my nose, I'll be doing it with one hand.
[Friday's car was stolen]
Friday: With the exception of you and canned cling peaches I'd be hard pressed to find anyone or anything that doesn't know you should never leave your car keys in the ignition.
Pep Streebeck: It's called a mistake, Friday, but I don't suppose you ever make any of those, do you?
Captain Gannon: Friday, Streebeck, we got another one. Chemical train hijack down at the freight yards. Damn Pagans must be living on No-Doz!
Friday: Yessir, Captain. We'll roll as soon as we requisition a new...
Captain Gannon: Oh, one more thing. Police and fire departments all over the county have been reporting vehicles stolen. So keep an eye on your car!
Pep Streebeck: Hey partner. I tried to call you up till midnight. I didn't know the Christian Science reading rooms stayed open so late.
Joe Friday: Not that it's any of your business, but I spend the evening in the company of Connie Swail.
Pep Streebeck: Don't you mean "the Virgin Connie Swail"?
[Friday looks at Streebeck as the Dragnet theme starts]
Pep Streebeck: Wait a minute!
Joe Friday: After losing the two previous vehicles we had been issued, the only car the department was willing to release to us at this point was an unmarked 1987 Yugo, a Yugoslavian import donated to the department as a test vehicle by the government of that country and reflecting the cutting edge of Serbo-Croatian technology.
Pep Streebeck: You know, Muzz, you have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent any thing you s-, you know these words, Muzz! C'mon, sing along!
Pep Streebeck: Anything-you-say can-and WILL be USED against-you IN a-court of LAW!
Sylvia Wiss: [pulls her top off] Do these look like the breasts of a forty year old woman?
Friday: No ma'am. They're quite impressive... bordering on spectacular.
Joe Friday: I don't care what undercover rock you crawled out from, there's a dress code for detectives in Robbery-Homicide. Section 3-605. 10. 20. 22. 24. 26. 50. 70. 80. It specifies: clean shirt, short hair, tie, pressed trousers, sports jacket or suit, and leather shoes, preferably with a high shine on them.
Joe Friday: Ma'am, what is the approximate dry weight of the average Madagascan fruit tree bat?
Pep Streebeck: You mean you don't know?
Joe Friday: Ah, sure, but just like every other foaming, rabid psycho in this city with a foolproof plan, you've forgotten you're facing the single finest fighting force ever assembled.
Reverend Jonathan Whirley: The Israelis?
[Friday is about to eat a chili dog]
Pep Streebeck: You know the kinds of things that can fall into an industrial sausage press? Not excluding rodent hairs and... bug excrement?
[Friday gives a disgusted look]
Joe Friday: I hate you, Streebeck.
Pep Streebeck: And if I may a toast... to Granny Mundy: may you live as long as you want but never want as long as you live.
Chemical Engineer: Basically, it burns the eyes, lungs and throat, causes vomiting and if continuously inhaled, death.
Pep Streebeck: [to Friday] Oh, sort of like your aftershave.
[on a multi-lane highway, traffic all around is passing and sounding horns]
Pep Streebeck: You know, uh, Friday, we're allowed to go 55... On some occasions, even faster.
Friday: I'm well aware of the federally mandated speed limit, Streebeck. But, did it ever occur to you that, by going eight miles an hour slower, we might save some gasoline and ease the burden on the poor taxpayers out there who pay our salaries?
Pep Streebeck: Friday, a little extra gas isn't gonna put the city in hock; besides, this looks bad! Come on, live a little - it's the vertical pedal on the right.
Narrator: Your attention, please. The story you are about to see is true; the names have been changed to protect the innocent. For example: George Baker is now called "Sylvia Wiss. "
[Streebek hands over a broken phone to Friday]
Pep Streebeck: It's for you. It's the president.
[reading from huge lit up sign]
Joe Friday: People... Against... Goodness... And... Normalcy. P, A, G, A, N. P.A.G.A.N.!
Pep Streebeck: Nice work, Joe.
[after bursting into a suspected drug factory with a tank that ruptures all equipment in its path, sticks out tongue to identify liquid spraying in all directions]
Pep Streebeck: I can't quite place it! It tastes like...
Joe Friday: Milk. Just like the sign said before you obliterated it. Fresh wholesome milk.
Pep Streebeck: You probably love this stuff.
Joe Friday: Vitamin D, calcium, essential for good strong bones and healthy teeth. But that's all Greek to you, isn't it, Mr. Gingivitis?
Enid Borden: [Friday knocks on her door, she opens] What the hell do you want?
Joe Friday: [as he and Streebek show their badges] Police officers, maam.
Enid Borden: 'Bout time you pencil-dicks showed up. Why couldn't you have gotten here before that big bad stupid-looking piece of sewage breath stole my white wedding dress?
Joe Friday: 'Sewage-breath' is your little nickname for?
Enid Borden: Muzz. Emil Muzz.
Pep Streebeck: [Looks at Friday] Not much of an improvement.
Joe Friday: [Friday addresses Whirley after he has entered a bathroom stall] Hold it right there, Whirley. Police officer, you're under arrest.
Reverend Jonathan Whirley: I beg your pardon, what is this? Some kind of a feeble joke?
Joe Friday: Oh, it's a real knee-slapper, friend, if you consider California Penal Code section 4A, 4207A, 597 and 217: Theft, Kidnapping, Cruelty to Animals, and Attempted Murder something to laugh about.
Reverend Jonathan Whirley: [seated on the toilet with his pants around his ankles] I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about.
Joe Friday: My partner and I witnessed that little torchlight picnic you threw last night, we're gonna put you where your kind always ends up - in a seven by seven foot grey-green metal cage in the fifteenth floor of some hundred-year-old penitentiary, with damp, stinking walls and a wooden plank for a bed. Sure, this city isn't perfect, we need a smut-free life for all of our citizens; cleaner streets, better schools, and a good hockey team. But the big difference between you and me, mister, is you made the promise, and I'm going to keep it.
Pep Streebeck: Well, what a pleasant surprise... Grannie Friday...
Friday: Not that it's any of your business, she's my maternal grandmother, her name is Mundy.
Connie Swail: Why is his so much bigger than yours?
Joe Friday: Ma'am?
Connie Swail: Your gun.
Joe Friday: I've never needed more.
[Friday and Streebeck's squad car has just been blown up]
Joe Friday: My hat was in that car.
Pep Streebeck: Yeah, well I can tell you just who re-blocked it for you.
Joe Friday: [looking at a lion who's mane has been shaved into a mohawk] Somebody must have wanted that lion's mane pretty bad to pull a twisted stunt like that.
Pep Streebeck: Although, as mohawks go it's not that bad. It'll grow back.
Joe Friday: Yeah, and how do you tell that to these kids here who have never seen a lion before and now probably won't have the desire to ever see one again.
Pep Streebeck: Kids, it'll grow back.
Enid Borden: The magazines and papers were his down in the trash. No cheques or money, I looked. I should have thrown it all in the river the day he left but unlike some people I have a heart, goddamnit, the miserable little bag of puke.
Joe Friday: I think we're finished here, don't you Detective Streebeck?
Pep Streebeck: Look Muzz, we've got you on 87 violations of the motor vehicle code, it's only a matter of time before we tie you into one of those PAGAN jobs, not to mention that you stole your landlady's wedding dress which so far is the only endearing thing about you. So why don't you talk to us?
Captain Gannon: [after waking Capt. Gannon and briefing him in the middle of the night] Friday, do you have any idea what time it is?
Joe Friday: Yes sir.
[looks at his watch]
Pep Streebeck: Oh, don't ask him that, Captain.
Joe Friday: It's 4:27am, sir.
Pep Streebeck: He lives for that. It's in his blood.
Pep Streebeck: You know, Friday, I think you and the Commissioner would make a cute couple. I like the way you both keep your jaws locked. Plus the two of you do share that same curious affection for hats.
Joe Friday: May I remind you that only this morning Commissioner Kirkpatrick threatened to turn me into a... civilian?
Pep Streebeck: Yeah, I know. There was was a gleam in her eye, though...
Pep Streebeck: This guy knows God personally, I hear they play racquetball together.
Joe Friday: Well, just go ahead and chuckle away, mister. I don't hear God laughing.
Pep Streebeck: You will, once he sees your haircut.
Joe Friday: [reading from notebook during high speed chase] "Reckless endangerment of human life, willful disregard of private property, failure to signal for a... "
Pep Streebeck: Yeah, he's really raking up the violations, isn't he.
Joe Friday: Not him, you. This is your one way ticket back to civilian life, Mr. I-Like-To-Throw-The-Book-Out-The-Window.
Pep Streebeck: That's a good idea.
[throws book out the window]
Joe Friday: [about Reverend Jonathan Whirley] And he'd better tell me where Connie is or I'll shove that collar so far down his throat I'll have to take off his shoes to ring his neck!
Pep Streebeck: Friday, listen to yourself! You're not thinking like a cop any more, you're thinking like a man in love!
Joe Friday: "Prepare the virgin"? I don't like the sound of that.
Pep Streebeck: Let's just hope they're not referring to you.
Pagans: [chanting] Kill the good! Kill the good! Kill the good!
Joe Friday: [to the crowd, showing his badge to them] You are all under arrest!
[They keep chanting]
Joe Friday: Each of you has the right to remain silent! If you waive the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law!
Pep Streebeck: Oh for crying out loud!
[Pulls out his gun, cocks it, and fires warning shots in the air, which finally disperse the crowd]
Joe Friday: There's the limo from the mansion.
Pep Streebeck: Yeah, and that's Emil Muzz.
Joe Friday: Let's check Enid Bordon's description.
Pep Streebeck: Well?
[Opens his notebook and reads from it]
Pep Streebeck: Big, bad, stupid-looking.
Joe Friday: An exact match.
Pep Streebeck: [both looking at Connie Swail in Enid Borden's wedding dress] 2 to 1, that's Enid Borden's wedding dress.
Joe Friday: 20 to 1 Enid Borden didn't look that good on her wedding day.
Pep Streebeck: [to Friday] Can you swim?
Joe Friday: Red Cross junior lifesaver with clusters, bub!
Pep Streebeck: Silly me.
Jerry Caesar: Reverend, you've got balls as big as church bells.
Joe Friday: Connie, I'd like you to meet my maternal grandmother Mrs. Grace Mundy. Granny, this is the virgin Connie Swail.
Granny Mundy: You're kidding.
Connie Swail: Hi.
Joe Friday: Alright, let's run through it again. You say you're a Pagan, but we caught you working for Jerry Caeser. That makes you a plant in my book. Why don't you just make it easy on yourself and lead us to the stolen magazines?
Emil Muzz: [Giving the finger to Friday] Jump on this and spin, cop! I'm not saying another word until my attourney gets here!
Pep Streebeck: Say Joe, wouldn't a couple of danishes go great with this coffee right now?
[as he says this, he opens the drawer he used on Muzz earlier, and Muzz looks horrified]
Friday: [on a motorcycle with Pep] Streebeck, there's no road here!
Friday: [to Pep] They ought to transfer you to Missing Persons, Streebeck. You know everybody.
Pep Streebeck: Oh Joe, you never had these feelings before, have you?
Joe Friday: Almost. I had a kitten once.
Pep Streebeck: Yeah, it's going to be a little different. Connie is not going to be sleeping in a box, or meowing all night, or clawing up your drapes. Or maybe she will. I mean, you're both kind of starting from scratch with this.
Caesar Mansion intercom: Oh, thank God, vibrator repair!
Friday: No, ma'am, LAPD. Sorry.
P.A.G.A.N. Ceremony Leader: For the final touch to our brew tonight... a pristine virgin in a gown of white. Evil bringeth here our plea, she's as pure as she can be! White and clean as driven snow, from Orange County, here we go!