NCIS: New Orleans (2014–…): Season 1, Episode 15 - Le Carnaval de la Mort - full transcript

All aboard!

Do the Fat Tuesday!

Happy Mardi Gras!

Please... please help me.

Back off, buddy.

I got to call my wife.

I got to call...

Please... no.

♪ NCIS:New Orleans 1x15 ♪
Le Carnivale de la Mort
Original Air Date on February 17, 2015

♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪

♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang ♪



♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪

♪ How, how, how, how ♪

♪ Hey, hey ♪

♪ You gotta come on. ♪

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

You know what they
do for us here at Mardi Gras?

Nothing.

I mean, there's no king
cakes, no festivities.

I tried to convince
a couple of guards

to let us build a float
down in the yard,

but they wouldn't
even hear of it.

They wouldn't even take
that to the warden.

It's underwhelming
to say the least.

Underwhelming is sort of the
point of being incarcerated, no?



Mm.

A little effort's
all I'm asking.

You know,

I remember when
you were five,

uh, maybe six, and I would
take you to the parade,

and I'd put you
up on my shoulders

so you could
see the floats.

Your mama-- she warned me
that you'd had too much to eat

and I'd better
set you down.

Well, the next
thing I know,

there's this big glob
of warm puke sliding...

All right, let's get to it.

Get to what?

The ritual.

I got no idea
what you're talking about.

Mardi Gras is six weeks prior

to your annual
parole board hearing.

Every year around this time,
I come here,

we talk about old times,
you bring up my throwing up.

You threw up a lot, Dwayne.

And...

then we get to whether or not
I'm gonna write a letter

to the board
recommending your release.

That would make
a big difference.

You know that.

I mean, people think
less of you as my son

and more of you
as a man of judgment.

Which is why
the answer is still no.

That's fine by me.

No argument?

No pleading your case?

No. I am sanguine.

Work.

Till next time, Cassius.

Laissez Les bons temps rouler.

Got some beads there?

In your pocket.

Oh, she put those
in there.

Sly devil.

Been enjoying my annual Krewe
Crawl for the past three weeks.

Krewe De Vieux, Druids, Sparta,
King Arthur and Barkus,

then tonight Orpheus.

Yard-Long Hurricanes, endless
partying, and, yes, beads.

Oh, so you didn't
change your pants?

Three-day-old pants are
a hallmark of the season, Brody.

Sounds like a fraternity kegger
where everyone overindulges

in cutesy drinks
and nipple flashing.

Wasn't always like this.

Early Mardi Gras started
in medieval Europe,

processions of men
honoring "Le Boeuf Gras."

It's a celebration
of the fatted cow.

Far less nipple
flashing, I assure you.

Don't be so
sure of that,

Miss Loretta.

And on that note.

Deceased is Naval Petty Officer
Toussaint Patrice.

He was discovered by

a street sweeper
a couple hours ago.

Died of two puncture wounds--
one to the chest...

...one to the stomach.

Robbery?
Not likely.

Still wearing his wedding band,
wallet was flush with cash,

broken cell phone on the ground.

NOPD said they spoke
to a drunk tourist.

They said he saw
Toussaint running from

a man wearing
a jester mask.

Said the killer was between
five-four and five-nine.

That's quite a range there,
King.

Let me emphasize the words
"drunk" and then "tourist."

Good point.
Lots of cameras.

Have Patton download
the Eagle Eye from last night.

Texting him now.

This trail
of blood spots indicates

Toussaint was stabbed
somewhere else.

Well, if he was partying
on St. Charles Street,

then that means...

Clubbing at the Glitter Ball.

Glitter Ball.

Hosted by the
Krewe of Yemoja

every year on
Bacchus Sunday.

Are you even speaking English?

In order: Bacchus Sunday,
Monday is Lundi Gras,

then Fat Tuesday
aka Mardi Gras.

You'll get it soon.

Let's lock down the place,
canvass everyone inside.

We find who was wearing that
jester mask, we find our killer.

Doubt that's gonna work.

Why not?

I see your kegger
and raise you

the Greatest Freak
Show on Earth.

♪ ♪

Well, let me know.
Sure.

Okay, thank you.

Swept every room down here.

No blood found, but I did
encounter a number of fluids

that I've decided
to let Lasalle investigate.

It's my first Mardi Gras;
trying to ease my way in.

Pride, Brody.

Talked to a couple witnesses
who were here all night.

Showed them Toussaint's
driver's license photo.

Said they saw Toussaint being
thrown out of the V.I.P. area

up on the second floor
around midnight.

There was some
sort of fight.

About?
Spilled drink.

This way.

Witnesses said that the guy
that Toussaint fought with

was African-American, well
dressed and over six feet tall.

That's taller than we heard
out on the street.

Huh.

Think I might have found where
our victim was first stabbed.

Look like blood?

Yep.

Broken piece of glass.

Agent Pride.

What do you got?

There's a woman downstairs
asking after Toussaint.

Think it's his wife.
All right, tell her I'll be right down.

Track down the V.I.P. list.

Whoever Toussaint was
fighting with is on it.

Run the names.

See who matches the description.

I'll drop the
blood and glass

to Loretta and Sebastian.

When he left
last night, he...

he said he was
going to a meeting.

He'd been acting erratic--

not telling me where
he was going, coming home late.

I saw the signs,

I just didn't know what to do.

This...

last place he should've been.

Why?

He'd been sober three years.

This morning,

when I woke up and he wasn't
next to me, I looked outside,

saw that his car was gone, I...

used the Cell Locator app.

Led me here.

His car-- what kind?

An old Chevy Impala.
Did you find it?

Can I at least have his keys?

I'll track it down.

Didn't have keys on him.

We'll take care of the car.

In the meantime,

I'll have someone take you home.
Officer.

Can you give Miss Patrice
a ride home, please?

No problem.

What would possess
him to come here?

To take a chance
being around all this?

Running a tox screen

on Petty Officer Patrice.

Results won't be ready
for another 48 hours,

but it'll tell us
if he was on something.

This time of year is hardest
on those prone to temptation.

We're all prone
to temptation, Dwayne.

That's what makes our species
so interesting.

Now that I've been able

to investigate, wounds are from
a three- to five-inch blade,

serrated edge.

I sent the measurements
to Sebastian.

And the timelines
of the stabbings

matches what
your witnesses reported.

Time of death was
around midnight.

So Petty Officer Patrice
meets his killer

at the V.I.P. area.

First attack happens,

he flees, killer follows him
into the streets,

finishes him there.

Any updates from Sebastian
about the broken piece of glass?

That means "Happy Mardi Gras"
in Shyriiwook.

It's the official language
of Chewbacca.

Sebastian has
been anointed

the Chief Overlord
of the Krewe of Chewbacchus.

Second year in a row.

Quite an honor, I'm sure.

You have no idea.
It's-it's really huge.

Anyway, uh, in regards
to the glass,

I'm still unsure of its origin,
but I'll continue to run tests.

I can rule out
bottle and wine glass.

It's too fine,
plus the bevel's all wrong.

But I used the,
uh, measurements

from Toussaint's wounds
to determine

that he was stabbed with
a Benchmade steel knife.

Keep me posted about the glass.

That means "Will do."

Or "Where's the library?"

I don't know.
It's a very subtle language.

Hey, baby girl.

Hi.
You're early.

Well, I finished my econ paper
last night, so I made sure that

Orion got to physical therapy--
he's doing great by the way.

Good.

And then I hopped on
the 9:00 a.m. bus.

Are you sure you don't
mind if I borrow your car?

Comes with a price.

Where are you off to?

We're supposed to be having

our Pride family
bead-necklace-making party,

and from what I hear,
it's an exclusive

father-daughter affair.
Oh, I'm there. Tonight.

I even brought a new supply
of beads as a surprise.

Oh, nice.
It's just that

I have a chance to get together
with Lundy tonight.

You remember Lundy.

Uh, drummer from
your high school jazz band.

We're having a small reunion.

Rhythm section's
got to stick together.

Thought she was
studying in Europe.

Yeah, she was,
but, um, she's back now.

Do you mind if I take these?

I want to look more festive.

Sure.

I'll be back before dinner.

All right.

Bye. Have fun.

Chris. Merri.

Hey, Laurel.

Everything all right?

Double-edged sword
being a cop.

You know when people
are lying to you.

You got the V.I.P. list?

Sure did.

Owner of the club couldn't
have been more helpful.

Just handed it over to us
like that, easy-peasy.

Russell Jaynes is the
owner of the club--

aka Screwy Douce.

Part-time rapper and
used to move bricks

back during
my vice days.

Matches the
description of the man

who was fighting Toussaint--

over six feet,
African-American.

They have a past?

Not that
we know of, yet.

But we did get a
tip from a clubgoer

who swears he
saw Screwy Douce

in the V.I.P. bathroom.

He was washing blood
off his hands.

2003, you were accused

of a felonious assault
for stabbing a man

in a fit of road rage.

And six months later,
you escaped

reckless endangerment charges
for stabbing a man

who whistled
at your girlfriend.

And then in 2009,
you were finally convicted

for stabbing a man for
scuffing up your Stacy Adams.

Didn't scuff my Stacy Adams.

Bent my hat brim.

If you're gonna
disparage,

at least have the respect
to be accurate.

Least we can do, Mr. Douce.

Mr. Douce was the old me.

I've changed.

I'm a businessman now.

Please use the name
my mother intended:

Russell.

Okay, Russell, explain to us

how it is
that this petty officer

you were seen
fighting with was found

stabbed to death in an alley.

This fool was bleeding
way before he got to me.

That so?

I was up in V.I.P.
hanging with my homies.

I left to get myself a libation.

When I returned,

saw this guy
stumbling toward me.

Next thing I know,

he falls, drops his crazy mask,

runs into me, knocked
my drink all over me.

I was pissed.

So I cop to
roughing him up a bit.

I had to regulate.

Regulate as in...?

Ask politely.
Okay.

So, your story:

Petty Officer Patrice

comes down the
stairs bleeding,

holding some kind of
jester mask in his hand.

Jester mask? No.

After he bumped
into me,

he dropped a mask,

but it was a different
kind of mask altogether.

What kind of mask?

Dude was carrying a gas mask.

There's no record of a gas mask

found on the scene.

Yeah, well, dude wasn't lying.

I used Toussaint's time of death
to narrow down

my search of
the Central Business District's

surveillance camera footage and
the videos from inside the club.

How'd you get into
the Saturn's Feast party? Huh?

I was stuck outside.

When you roll like I roll,
you can get in anywhere.

Can we
get back to this club?

They didn't have
any cameras.

But you didn't need 'em,

thanks to everybody
living their life

so loud and proud
on social media.

I isolated every video clip
labeled hashtag

Glitter Masquerade Party

on Instagram,
Facebook and Twitter.

I built
an image timeline

of Toussaint's night--
I call it

the Patton Effect.
Humble.

The images are random,
because most of the footage

is cut together from
the selfie brigade.

It's shocking how people
are so into themselves.

They don't even bother
to notice there's a murder.

Okay, this is the moment
right before Douce of Screwy

crashed into your victim
on the stairs.

And as you notice,
Petty Officer Patrice

already had bloodstains
on his shirt.

Consistent with
what we were told.

Based on what you said
about the mask,

I zoomed in on
his left hand.

Let me enhance
this puppy.

There.

That's serious. Tactical.

Silicone facepiece.

Mesh harness suspension.

The guy wasn't
Screwy-Doucing around.

Hang on.

Lasalle here.

All right, so Toussaint's
at a party,

carrying a gas mask.

Any theories?

I have a bondage sex story
I could tell you,

but it would probably

be more entertaining

than informative.

That was NOPD.

BOLO got a hit
on Toussaint's car.

Keys are still in the ignition.

Looks like somebody
dumped it and humped it.

I'll check for prints.

Pop the trunk.

Hello.

Unmarked gas canisters.

With a million and a half
tourists in town for Mardi Gras,

it'd be a bad time for
something to go boom.

Bomb Squad called an audible.

The gas canisters
we found in Toussaint's car

aren't explosive
or chemical weapons.

Then, what are they?

Isoflurane.

Anesthetic doctors give

to their patients
undergoing surgery.

Toussaint's no doctor.

Also ran
the serial numbers

on these canisters--
turns out to be part

of stolen inventory from the Algiers
Medical Supp Warehouse

a day before
Toussaint was killed.

Drug addicts have been known
to steal iso for huffing.

Where's that lea the gas mask?

With the filter on,

it keeps the isoflurane out.

Filter off--

it's the perfect siphon
for a huff.

Which could make Toussaint's
killer his drug buddy.

Maybe the two
got high together,

went on a Mardi Gras binge.

Ended up in Screwy
Douce's club,

something goes wrong
and there's a fight.

Drug buddy stabs him
and steals his car.

But the quantity of canisters

found in the trunk
of Toussaint's car--

excessive for a user.

And dangerous--
people could be killed

via sedation if all those
canisters are opened at once.

Maybe they planned to sell.

Isoflurane
can bring

a pretty penny
on the black market.

Head over to the Algiers
Medical Supply Warehouse.

See if you can find out more
about the robbery.

I'll go talk
to Toussaint's wife.

Maybe he picked up a new friend
with his new behavior.

Toussaint and I were trying
to start a family.

Oh. We should have been shopping
for baby cribs this year.

But instead
I'll be shopping

for my husband's coffin.

I'm sorry to ask, but, uh...

is there a chance your
husband might've relapsed?

We had a hard year.

Meaning?

With me being unemployed and...

Toussaint's telemarketing job
not bringing in much,

we fell behind.

One of the reasons we'd put
a pin in starting our family.

Was there anybody
Toussaint was...

hanging out with, new?

Sketchy?

I wouldn't say "sketchy," but...

if you're talking about
potential influences...

Toussaint started volunteering
at a sober living facility.

Sober living?

My husband served
three tours in Iraq.

He came back home
numb, distant.

Found a release
in his addiction.

But he turned his life around,
he fought his way back to me,

and he wanted to be of service
to others just like him.

From being of service to...

serving up drugs...

I guess people never really do
change, do they, Agent Pride?

There's always hope.

Said they'd send a patrol out
to investigate my break-in,

but they never did.
Well, it's the season, ma'am.

Everybody's got
their hands full.

Thieves broke in here.

Looks like they used a crowbar.

Got away with
one carton of isoflurane.

Just the isoflurane?

Mm-hmm. And they skipped
right on past the oxycodone

and all the good stuff
to get to it.

Not the same high as the others,
but it would still command

a few grand on the black market.
Cameras catch

the break-in?
Did, but it ain't

gonna be much help--
robber was wearing a hoodie.

We'd still like to take a peek,
if you don't mind.

Whatever's clever.

My office is this way.

I'll tell you this,

whoever he is
been very busy.

My competitor,
First Charity Medical Supply,

got robbed of three boxes
of isoflurane just last night.

O-Okay, Chris, just check out
that other isoflurane robbery.

I'll get on it, King.

See what you can run down, okay?

All right,
you about done there tonight?

No, I got a...

I got an interrogation
I got to take care of here.

Got you.

So, I started another strand.
I'm thinking

maybe we can use
the red beads

in combination with
the little glass yellow ones.

We need to talk.

About?

Why you're really here.

Now, I considered
the possibilities

that you...

dropped out of school,

you and Orion
eloped, or...

maybe I'd have to kill Orion
because he got you...

Dad, I'm not pregnant.

I know.

First...

this thread from your sweater.

Typically,

you tug on your clothing

when you have an increased
level of anxiety.

Next, the overextended
mileage on my odometer

tells me that...

you went 20 miles...

each way on your...

"trip with Lundy,"

even though she lives...

right in the Quarter.

This... is insane.

You're checking the mileage
on your vehicle.

And finally...

...the red bead necklace
that you're wearing.

One you've never noticed before.

My father's favorite.

How long have you and Cassius
been communicating?

I want my lawyer?

Doesn't work that way.

Not with fathers and daughters.

I found him using
the Offender Locator Web site

for Gretna a few years ago.

And at first we just started
writing to each other,

but then that graduated
to telephone calls,

and then... last year
I went to see him for the first time.

And you kept this from me?

Because I knew you
were gonna react like this!

Ever since
I was a little girl,

you always told me these
funny stories about Grandpa,

but you never once
took me to see him.

You were a little girl!
Which I'm not anymore.

Laurel...
Daddy, you're a respected cop--

a letter from you would make
all the difference

in a parole hearing.
He's hocking you for the letter?

You always told me to look
for the best in people, right?

To forgive?

Well, why can't you
forgive him?

It's not that simple.

Daddy...
Laurel,

this is for your own good.

You are not to write him,

call him, you are not to
visit him in prison again.

Am I making myself clear?

I'm sorry.

It doesn't work like that

between fathers
and adult daughters.

No, man, you're missing
the point entirely.

While you were
chanting "Chewbacchus""

I was screaming
"Boobs-shocka-locka."

What are you two
arguing about now?

Patton was kicked off
the Intergalactic Krewe

of Chewbacchus last year
for wearing an elf shirt...

Permissible cyborg elf shirt.

You can't just wrap
your arm in tin foil

and claim that you're a cyborg.
Point is moot.

Chewbacchus ain't got nothing
on the Red Beads and Rice Krewe

or the Krewe of Beyoncé.

This is
our Berlin Wall,

and you're standing on the
east side-- that makes you

and Beyoncé
Communists, so...

Please, someone,
save me from this madness.

Well, all right, here we go.

So, all that was visible from
the supply warehouse surveillance

was the intruder's hand.

But sometimes
a hand's all you need.

We took an image
of Toussaint's killer's hand

from the alley surveillance
footage to compare.

Yeah, FBI has

a, uh, Vascular
Mapping Program.

It uses vein patterns
as a biometric trait for identification.

So, by applying
an Oriented Gradient Map

to the killer's and the
burglar's hands, they match.

We take the vein patterns
and the coriums

and feed them
into the FBI's database, and...

Cowabunga--

there's your burglar.

Cyd Lawson, released
from Gretna State Prison

last October
after serving ten years

for bank robbery.

You got that list of people
Petty Officer Patrice

is working with at the
sober living facility?

He's on it.

I'll get
Cyd's last known address.

I'm calling Pride.

I'm going in.

Copy.

I'm at the side door.

I'm at the back.

NCIS. Open up.

Hey, Pride.

Meth lab.

Knife!

Stay back.

- Stay back!
- Cyd, put the knife down.

You come near me,
I'll cut you!

Put down the knife, Cyd.

It's not my fault.

They made me kill him.

They?

Who's "they," Cyd?

Mm-mm. I can't tell.

I can't tell.

Oh, hey.

Cyd, stay with me, buddy.
Stay with me.

What was Toussaint
gonna snitch on?

Cyd. Cyd.

The isoflurane?

Come on, Cyd.

The heist...

tomorrow...

Mardi...

He's gone.

Did he say "heist"?

On Mardi Gras?

Official start of the big day.

Clock is ticking.

The cause of death
for Cyd Lawson was a stroke.

Likely caused
by a crystal meth-induced

heart arrhythmia.

From an O.D.?

Based on track marks, Mr. Lawson

injected a significant amount
of the drug into his system.

Most users prefer to smoke it,
because injection

raises the possibility
of an overdose exponentially.

Are you saying the O.D.
was intentional?

I'm saying Mr. Lawson,
as an experienced drug user,

would have known better.
He said that

they made him kill Toussaint.

The knife you found with him
matches the murder weapon.

So... possible.
Thank you, Loretta.

Followed up on that second
isoflurane robbery.

Owner says three
boxes were stolen.

That's 27 canisters, King--

enough to kill a
couple hundred people.

So, if what Cyd was saying
is true-- a heist

on Mardi Gras,

NOPD's stretched
to the limit--

perfect time to steal
something in plain sight.

Possible targets:
casinos, banks,

strip clubs...
Any idea who Cyd was working with?

I had Patton dump
Cyd's phone.

His "friends" is a motley crew
of violent criminals.

Ian Knox, Marv Williams,
and Randy James.

Ian Knox

was convicted too many times
to count on robbery.

James, he's partial

to home invasions.

Marv Williams?

He's the likely
mastermind

of the pack.

Convicted of manslaughter

and robbery.

Know where to find
these Boy Scouts?

No cell phone usage,

credit card movements,

and their last known addresses
are post office boxes.

I put out a BOLO.
Sebastian.

Got an update on that piece of glass
we found at the crime scene.

All right, you grab Brody...

follow up over there.

I'm gonna head to Gretna,

have a talk with one of...

Marv's cell block buddies.

Twice in one week?

To what do I owe
the extra attention?

Marv Williams.

He was on your cell block.
Any contact with him?

Of course.

What can you tell me?

Plenty.

Okay, what can you tell me

about what he might steal today,

Mardi Gras?

Today, huh?

It seems like we have arrived

at one of those mutual
back-scratching scenarios.

Answer's still no.

Okay, then.

Guard,

time to go.

You leave now...

I'll make sure you never

see Laurel again.

Uh, one more minute, actually.

It doesn't work that way,
Dwayne.

Kids grow up,
they have a mind of their own.

Suddenly,
they do what they want,

regardless
of their father's wishes.

And regardless
of who I am to you,

I am still her grandpapa.

'Cause I chose
which stories to tell her

and which ones to leave out.

I can fill in the details,

regale her with darker tales...

about the envelopes of money
delivered to our house,

or the many women
who were not her grandmother...

All right, your
mother and I,

we had an arrangement.

Which would explain
her nervous breakdown.

And why she had to move
halfway around the globe

to get away from you.
You ungrateful, spoiled...

Or how about I tell her
my most vivid Mardi Gras memory,

where a king cake
was delivered to our house,

and the prize inside--
a severed finger. Good times.

You think she'll still think of you
as her grandpapa once she knows that?

Now, you may not believe this...

but the reason
I won't write you a letter

is 'cause I'm convinced
that this is the only place

I can keep you where
you'll be safe from yourself.

And now I'm done.

Dwayne. Wait. Wait.

If I was a betting man,

I'd say what you're
looking for is jewels.

The piece of glass?

It's from a broken
telephoto smartphone lens,

similar to this one.

It provides the viewer
with 15 times the power of zoom,

all while coming
from a device that fits

conveniently into your pocket.
So looking at a distance

without appearing
too conspicuous.

So Toussaint found out

Cyd was up to something,

tracked him down at the club...
Cyd was there,

telephoto lens...

Scouting a potential heist.
Could be.

How do you say "great job"
in Wookie?

Yeah. That.

♪ ♪

So, let's say Toussaint
is in on this heist.

Possibly wanted out,
got cold feet.

He goes from loving husband
and potential father

to fallen addict
and jewel thief?

Happy Mardi Gras, Ms. Patrice.

What do you see?

Those two lofts over there,

that's where the Krewe of Rex

and the Krewe of Comus

showcase their gowns
and scepters

at preview balls.

No expensive jewelry there.

What about that building?
Mystic Krewe

of Shangri-La Social Club--
they hold their

St. Charles gala luncheon
at a meeting center.

Again, no significant
jewelry there?

Nope.

But across the street,
dead ahead...

at the Board of Trade,

the Wiley Museum of Southern Art

holds their "Get on
the Good Foot" gala fund-raiser.

Old money.

Guests wearing their Sunday best

and estate jewelry.

Let's gear up.

We're gonna need
gas masks.

♪ ♪

That's a beautiful necklace
you're wearing.

Thank you.

Let's go.

♪ ♪

All right, I got the front.

Brody, take the back.
Christopher...

I got the side.
Right. Talk to me.

You got it.

♪ ♪

King, I'm in.

I'm in position.

Yeah, I need several EMT trucks
at the Board of Trade.

We got people down.
Let's move.

Whoo!
Come here.

Come on, come on.
Please.

Easy. I'm gonna
drop my weapon.

Move, move!

Got your punk ass.

Stay down!

NCIS.

Party's over.

You all right?
Yes, ma'am. Thank you.

You all right, Chris?

Isoflurane.
Some potent stuff.

Merideth Brody,

I feel fantastic.

I got to tell you, no buzz
like this on my Krewe Crawl.

Okay, all right,

ca-calm, calm down.

This is the first one that you
and Daddy made together, right?

It is.

He was four.

Do you want to put it on?

Oh, I'd like to,
but, uh, you know...

Oh, yeah. Sorry.

I forgot.
So you're going

back to school tomorrow?

Yeah. I have an exam on Friday.

And then you'll write again?

Write?

Me.

Like-like we've been?

That's... complicated.

Daddy?

Where are we
leaving this, Dwayne?

Laurel, I think it's time
I told you a story about

your grandfather.
Dwayne...

When I was five...

maybe six...

your grandpop took me
to the parade...

put me up on
his shoulders.

So you could see the floats.

And you threw up all over him.
I know this one.

What I don't think
I ever told you was...

he barely took a moment
to clean off.

He put me down,

he didn't get mad, and then...

right back up on his shoulders.

Made sure I didn't miss
a single float.

Tell the one about...

the time they asked you

to be Rex,

the King of Carnival.
Oh.

Yeah, it was...
it was 1986.

Gary Rome nominated me
to be the King.

Now, that was
a big surprise,

because I wasn't even a member
of one of the Krewes.

But they were trying
to lure me in.

There were lots of guys
who were members of the Krewes

back in those days who
wanted to be associated

with Cassius Pride.

♪ ♪

This is as it should be--

family coming together
on Mardi Gras

to enjoy and celebrate!

So, I pulled some strings,

and I got you
reinstated.

Here's an official T-shirt
of the Intergalactic Krewe

of Chewbacchus.

Go on, take it.

Don't mention it.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man