Psych (2006–2014): Season 8, Episode 2 - S.E.I.Z.E. the Day - full transcript

Previously on Psych...

So the mayor's decided
to send over a consultant,

Mr. Harris Trout.

I intend to save the taxpayers
millions of dollars

by trimming the work force
into a new model

of precision and efficiency.

Chief?

I got a six-month suspension.

But I have news for all of you.

I'm stayin'.
And you know why?

Because you're the new interim
chief of police.



Correct.

We will no longer
be hiring psychics,

and you're no longer
head detective.

I love you.

I love you too.

Now, as your new interim
police chief,

I will guide you through
this raid today

as we rid our city
of another one

of its drug-dealing washouts.

Where's my head detective?

- Right here, sir.
- I said my head detective.

When I ask
for a freshly-demoted beat cop,

I'll expect you
front and center.

Capisce?
And loosen those blues.



Nobody needs to see you
advertising your business

to the whole community
like that.

Now one more time:
Where's my head detective?

Uh, that's...

that's me.
I'm here.

- Okay, detective O'Hara...
- Mm-hmm.

Now that you've been promoted
to interim head detective,

on rare occasions,
I'll be depending on you.

This is not
one of those occasions.

Now, in six minutes,

we're gonna be moving inside
in two-by-two formations.

Yes, Gus, that's the point.

We need a new business venture,

which means I will be
the motivational life coach.

You will be my booking agent
and audience plant.

You don two hats.

I don't wanna don
two hats, Shawn.

A beret up front.

You got a little beanie
on the crown

of your smooth
chocolate thunderdome.

You can't just become
a life coach

without a life
or coaching skills.

I already got one
of those words

with the dots
in between the letters.

Encapsulates my philosophy.

- It's called an acronym.
- S.E.I.Z.E.

That's "seize," or as
the Mayans called it, "seize."

You do realize the letters

are supposed to stand
for something, right?

Guess what the "S"
in S.E.I.Z.E stands for?

- What?
- Seize.

You're an idiot.

We need to figure out a way
to get on the case fast

before Psych goes under.

Trout hates us, and right now

we're not supposed to step foot
in the station

much less a crime scene.

Your new legal name
is Recap McGhee.

Now, the perp inside that house

is a very dangerous bird,

a lappet-faced vulture,
a red-necked ostrich.

Either way, in the analogy,
it's molting.

Gotta figure out a way
past these barricades, man.

I need a stage on which
to display my skillz

in front of Sauertrout there.

Let's go to dinner.

You don't have to ask me twice.

Hey, you.

Yeah, you.

I'm Shawn Spencer.

This is my partner,
Trending Ontwitter.

Hashtag what-would-Gus-do.

Couldn't help but notice
the roses.

- Yeah, it's my anniversary.
- Super.

Well, you don't
have to ask us once.

We would love to join you
and your lovely wife

for a six-course dinner.

Well, you know, they're not
letting anyone past, so...

Oh, no?

Sounds like somebody
needs to step up

and seize.

How do I seize, Shawn?
I'll tell ya.

You go right over there
and you let that jagbag know

there's absolutely nothing,
and I mean nothing,

that is gonna keep you
from wining and dining

your wife and your new
black and white best friends.

'Cause after we leave,
she's gonna get handsy.

- Say, yes, she is.
- What?

- I don't know you.
- No impending raid.

No guns, no cops.
Nothing's gonna stop you.

Now, go.
Seize!

Seize.

- Seize.
- Yeah.

You got this, bro.
You got this.

All right, listen up.

We're gonna have to move in
from east to west.

Some of you may not know
which way is east

and which way is west.

That's okay.
That's west, that's east.

Excuse me, officer?

Seize.
Seize.

- Seize.
- Uh, listen.

I...

My house is right there,
and it's my anniversary.

- And...
- And we are with him, Trout.

- Old friends.
- Hm.

Officer Lassiter,
arrest this man

for interfering
with a police investigation.

We're kidding.
We're not with this dude.

- Just met the guy.
- No.

I was just trying
to get to my house.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

You'll be processed and released
within the hour.

Well, maybe.

There's a chance that
one of you might die today.

Probably you.
Could be you.

Could be you.

Oh, it's go time, daddy-o.

Okay, is everyone
crystal clear now?

Okay, let's move.

- Let's move, come on.
- Uh, uh, chief?

Yeah?

I think we can call off
the raid.

I've called you all down here
for good reason.

The raid that took place here
a couple of days ago

is a prime example
of what I'm calling

"The New Santa Barbara,"

a city being swept clean
of vermin,

yellow-bellied weasels,
black-footed ferrets.

And the heroics
that took place here

are something that should not
and will not go unnoticed.

An unnamed officer successfully
apprehended our suspect

without a single shot
being fired.

That is the new SBPD.

No names, no faces.

Men and three women
serving their city

and being led and nurtured
by me, Harris Trout.

You know, it was the late
and underappreciated

Millard Fillmore
who once said--

Stay down!

I gotcha, boss.

♪ I know you know that
I'm not telling the truth ♪

♪ I know you know they
just don't have any proof ♪

♪ embrace the deception

♪ learn how to bend

♪ your worst inhibitions

♪ tend to psych you
out in the end ♪

All right, listen up.

Your new chief
almost got killed today.

I want everyone here to think

about the impact of my death

just for a minute.

Let it marinate.

Swish it around the empty space
between your ears.

It's immeasurably devastating,
isn't it?

Now, let's catch this bastard
and let's catch him fast.

I'm gonna hand the floor over
to Detective O'Hara.

Today is her first briefing.

Try not to make this the most

humiliating day
of your life, okay?

Hm.

Take it away.

Uh...you know what?

Can--can everybody come in
a little closer?

Yeah.
Yeah, that's good, thank you.

So we have an APB out
on all late-model white vans.

Dude, if Trout sees us
inside here,

he's probably gonna
have us arrested.

Gus, don't be
the 100th Luftballon.

We both know that yous and mees
hit rock bottom, okay?

Psych hasn't had a case
in what feels like a year.

And your sales last month
at Central Coast

stunk up
the whole frickin' city.

Whole city smelled like poo
'cause of your fusty--

- I get it, okay?
- Good.

Because
the life-coaching business

is not gonna take off
until we have our first client.

Come on, son.

You need to tighten it up.

Tip-top,
we don't stop.

Spencer and Guster knostin'
boots around the clock.

Dude, that last part was weird.

It was mad weird.
Super weird.

Now, you ready to do this?

No.
What--

I'm proud of you.

And I see somebody who could use
a little coaching.

Hey, Lassie.

I couldn't help but notice

that your career's
in the latrine.

Lucky for you, I'm here to help
you flush and start over.

Get away from me, Spencer,

or I will pierce
your lower intestine

with a safety pin.

All right, just hear me out.

I know that Trout there
has been turning a blind eye

to your heroics of late.

You wanna know why?

Because while you have been
acting quite heroically,

you have not been speaking up.

And we all know that words
are much louder than actions.

What?

Lassie, a brilliant mind

perched under a thick,
beaverish thatch of hair

has crafted techniques
that will put your career

back on track,
techniques rooted

in old English,
the kind of English

that's taught in schools
and, of course, in England.

- You're losing him, Shawn.
- S.E.I.Z.E.

S-E-I-Z-E,

as in seize this moment.

Besides, nobody can hear a word
Jules is saying anyway

'cause she feels guilty baggins
about taking your gig.

So let
the stern bush breathe...

be heard.
Seize.

Now, we have no description
of the shooter.

Um, but the good
news is--

The good news
is that I am back.

But as those of you
who witnessed today's heroics

already know,
I was never really gone.

Now, some of you may be
under the impression

that my middle name
is "Danger."

It is not.
It's Jedediah.

- Ooh, rough start.
- Ah, jeez.

But it should be Danger...

because some lowlife
assassin wannabe

thinks they can take a shot
at one of us

and get away with it?

Well, not while
I've got a pulse

under my performance zone
male spanx.

Now, I may be required
to write no less

than 80 traffic citations
this month,

but I will not rest
until the miscreant

who took a shot at our chief
is caught.

- He's on a roll now.
- Jebediah?

- That can't be right.
- Now, you mark my words.

And you mark them well.

I, Carlton Jedediah Lassiter,

will go out in a hailstorm
of bullets

if that's what it takes
to catch this scumbag.

I will leave
this perfectly-flawed planet,

my body littered with lead,

my heart bleeding blue
upon the asphalt

of the city I love so much,

because this is my house.

And with every fearless fiber
of my being,

I say unto you:
This scumbag is going down.

Seize.

Smoochy pie, I have got news.

Oh, really?
Well, I've got good news too.

I had another big day, baby.

Aw, did Trout give you
your old job back?

No, but I can almost
guarantee you

that it is under review.

Review?
Well, that's good, right?

Good? No.
Great? Yes.

And I almost
got killed today, kitten-head.

Oh.

And I told my colleagues

and that stubborn
ass-clown Trout

in no uncertain terms
that I am back

- and better than ever.
- Oh.

You gave him the speech, huh?

Oh, I gave him
the speech, all right.

With or without
the middle name?

With.

Uh, would you like to hear
my news?

You shoulda seen their faces

as I built up
to the part where--

You die in a firestorm
of bullets.

Hailstorm.
In a hailstorm of bullets.

Yeah.
I'm pregnant.

Dobson actually asked
for my autograph afterwards.

Of course, I declined.

And Trout, well...

Pregnant pregnant?

Oh.

It's Unit 404-niner.
I need a wants and warrants

on a white minivan, 2007,
2, wilco, queen,

Ivan, 3-3-2. Over.

Another one?

Yes, Franny, another one.

That's like
the fourth white van

in the last hour.

It's called
being thorough, Franny.

Now, give me
the wants and warrants.

It's the tone in your voice.
That is my issue.

Just run the plates.

You hurt my feelings.

You treat me like a voice
and not a person,

and that's not right.

I'm a human person.
And I don't ask for much.

Hey.

I give, and I give, and I give--

- Franny, I need backup.
- Really?

Yes, really!

I work in the third
most dangerous business

on the planet.

Hey, take a deep breath, okay?

I forgive you.
And I got you.

Okay, we got two
black-and-whites on the way.

Talk to me.
What do we got?

- Not sure yet.
- Suspect armed?

I don't have eyes yet.

But better safe
than sorry, right?

Carlton, are you...okay?

Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh, shh.

You hear that?
That noise coming from the van.

You hear that?
You hear that, right?

Yeah.

Yeah, I think I know
who that is.

Are they dangerous?

Yeah, that's king candy
from Wreck-It Ralph.

It sounds like they're watching
an animated movie.

Oh.

Okay.

Well, hey, we cleared
another white van, right?

Can I take my kids
to school now or what?

You bet!

You said you wish to die
in a hurricane of bullets.

Correct?

A hailstorm.

The madman that tried
to assassinate me

is a rare bird, okay?

He's a forest owlet,
possibly a kakapo.

This soulless creature
tried to kill me,

which means he will undoubtedly
take you apart

soup to spanx with little
to no hesitation,

which is great for everyone.

So you bag him.

Hopefully, he empties his weapon
right into you.

Everybody wins, right?

Now, if you pull this off
and you don't die,

perhaps I'll re-review
your file, okay?

Unlikely, but you never know.

Okay, so, uh...

go get 'em.

Gus,Runaway Train
was, like, 30 years ago.

And nobody saw Crash the series.
Next--

Shawn, my mom does not need
a life coach.

Okay.

We both know she's playing
the underground poker circuit.

She goes all in
with pocket ducks

and loses her stacks to,
I don't know,

Ronan the Crippler--

- Lassie?
- Aha!

- What are you doing here?
- Change of heart, huh?

Ready to seize the day?

Because I happen to have
an opening in my schedule.

No, you twit.

I need you two dodos
to help me find the guy

who's trying to shoot Trout.

- Why are you coming to us?
- Because, um, my situation

has recently changed,
and I'm no longer

physically capable of pursuing
this case on my own.

And I would like to just
leave it at that, please.

Sure.
How has your sitch changed?

- Not physically capable how?
- You changed in what way?

- Not physically capable why?
- Would you stop it?

Are you gonna help me or not?

Come on, guys.

- We're in, but...
- We need to get paid.

Fine, and just so you know,

I took a 43% pay cut
when I got demoted

- and I can only afford--
We'll take it.

Now, do we have any info

on who might wanna kill Trout

besides all of us?

Can't believe...

can't believe Trout
made a whole scrapbook

out of his death threats.

Is it just me or did he put

some serious time
into this project?

He did.
It's impressive and weird.

Life insurance?

Hey, Lassie,
I think you left--

Thank you.

- Lassie, you okay?
- Seriously, man.

You seem a little blue.

Are you getting anything
or not?

Whoa, come on, man.
The pressure.

I'm the CEO
of two major companies

and a fantasy cricket team,
which reminds me:

I gotta drop Sachin Tendulkar
from my squad.

I mean, sure, the man bowls
a wicked googly--

- But the wickets.
- Yeah.

Wickets are way down
this season.

Okay, I've zeroed in
on our number-one suspect,

and this one's a doozy.

A dangerous doozy?

You betcha.

Okay.

We've got our shooter.

Shawn, are you gonna
finally tell us

who we've been following?

I told you, Gus:
It's a grown-man surprise.

Now, wait for
♪ it...

Well, whoever it is, I sure
as hell hope he's not armed.

Really?

That's a .38.
He's got a .38.

Isn't the same caliber gun
the shooter used?

Okay, good news:
We've got our shooter.

Bad news:

Lassie gets to tell Trout

that his mom is the one
who tried to kill him.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

Hold it right there,
Trout's mom.

- Hold it yourself, ham-head.
- Ham-head?

Ma'am, I'm gonna need
to ask you

to place the weapon you've got
hidden in your waistband

on the ground.

Don't be lookin' at my jutes.

What?

Thank you.

Now, Mrs. Trout, we need
to ask you some questions

about your son Harris.

I'll give each of you 20 bucks

to talk about anything
other than my jerk-weed son.

- That's a great deal.
- Hey.

Trout's mom,
is it true that you send

a threatening letter
to your son

every year on his birthday?

Yes. My relationship
with Harris is complicated.

He resents me
because I left his dad

for the pool guy
Azucar de la Punto.

Sugar...

And I resent him
for his personality.

No, I love my son
but I hate his insides.

And could I give you
25 bucks each

just to tell me
what this is about?

She's not gonna keep this deal
on the table forever.

Stop it!

Mrs. Trout,
what's going on, ma'am,

is that someone tried
to kill your son

with a .38
very much like that one.

- Several shots were fired.
- Did they hit him?

No.

Don't you mean
"Did I hit him?"

No, I don't.
You know why?

Because I wouldn't have missed.

- Trout's mom.
- Hey, hey, hey, take a powder!

What is wrong with you?

How do I tell Trout

his mom
is in interrogation room one?

Well, Lassie,

I'm so glad you asked that,

because right now is
the perfect opportunity

for you to utilize the second
letter in S.E.I.Z.E...

Will you stop it?

Which, of course,
stands for "eggs,"

as in you gotta break a few

in order to make an omelet
or pancakes

or muffin tops or dijonnaise,

'cause there is eggs
in everything.

- Am I right, Gus?
- No.

This is delicate situation.

But the best thing
you can do right now

is march into Trout's office,

look him in the eyes,
and say, "Hey, Sauertrout...

I ain't afraid to crack
no eggs."

Oh, God.

You do realize that Lassie's

probably gonna
get fired, right?

Yeah, but we might get paid--

- Aah!
- Aah!

- 'Scuse me, chief.
- Lassiter.

Does this look like
a good time to you?

I'm not entirely sure
what it looks like, sir.

The eyes are delicate,
mysterious figs,

a complicated combination
of aqueous humor fluid

and ganglion
photosensitive cells.

Now, were I to lose my sight,

which is a 12% chance,
my blind exercises

perfectly prepare me
for my new pitch-black world.

Absolutely, sir.
My apologies.

Now, what else
could you possibly need?

Well, sir, I just came in

to inform you that...

Nevermind.

Eggs.

- Eggs.
- No, I'm not g--

Eggs.

Chief, your mother
is in interrogation room one,

and I think she may be
the person

who tried to shoot you dead.

I want first crack at her.

Did you do it or not?
Tell me.

I am a stabber not a shooter.
You know that.

Look, I hope dad is in heaven
right now watching.

The devil is making s'mores

with his spongy brain.

See, I knew you never
loved dad.

Nobody ever loved
that S.O.B.

Look, he supported
all my creative desires.

Well, he supported his empty
head on his triple chin.

- He had a thyroid problem, ma.
- All right.

Ballistics is running
the Trout's mom's .38

to see if it's the one
used in the shooting.

Looks like this case is over.

All I ever wanted to do
was dance.

Oh, you and Ginger Rogers.

We have a report of shots fired

at a coffee shop called
"Javva the Cupp."

Witnesses say they saw
a white van driving away.

Wait a second.

That means Trout's mom
is not our shooter.

No.

No!

- I'm disappointed, is all.
- Mm.

We've got one injured
on the way to the hospital.

I'm heading there now
to interview the victim.

Carlton, would you please
come with me?

I could really use your help
on this case.

Maybe we should come too.

- Yeah, that's a good idea.
- Yeah.

Okay, just don't tell
what's-his-face.

Azucar was a terrible pool guy
and a thief!

He knew a dozen ways
to fight algae.

Oh, my God, I don't wanna
think about that, ma.

So, um, how do I tell Trout

that his mom
is actually innocent

and that the person
who tried to kill him

is still out there
running rampant?

Well, Lassie, I'm so glad
you chose this moment

to make that inquiry.

What you need to focus on

- is the "I" in S.E.I.Z.E...
- Shawn.

Which, of course,
stands for "I don't know."

- Oh, my gosh.
- Or...

Mm-mm?
Because sometimes,

believe it or not Lassie,
it's super sweet

to not know.

Oh, God.

Vance, did you get a good look
at the shooter?

No, but I profiled him.

Unemployed, dumpy, single,
5'10" and under.

The King Kong of losers.

Aw, come on.

But what is this?
Hey, nurse.

Chewbacca-ccino
from Javva the Cupp

on the fly,
or I'm gonna sue this hellhole

for botching my bandages.

And hurry up.

I got a full bedpan
with your name on it.

Look, are we about done here?

I mean, I realize you're all
public servants

with low-paying jobs to do,

but V-Mac's got calls
to bang,

peeps to see, lives to ruin.

Well, V-Mac--
dope handle--

the possibility remains
that the attempt

on your life
was not completely random.

Do you by chance know a man
named Harris Trout?

That's a stupid name.
No.

Do you know anyone
who may want you dead?

My wife, my main mistress.

Ooh, my mistress'
smoking-hot sister.

Their dads,
all the guys who work for me,

a lot
of their wives and sisters.

Okay, I think we're done here,
right, Carlton?

- Carlton?
- Huh?

Oh.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,
wait a second, you guys.

I think there is a connection
between V-Mac here and Trout.

Our killer
is targeting a-holes.

Think about it: He's cleaning up
the city one a-hole at a time.

He's whackin' a-holes.

Either that,
or he wants to be the g-poobah

of all the a-holes.

By the way,
I gotta make a phone call.

I know someone
who's in grave danger.

Listen to me:
There is a crazy person

on the loose,
and he's targeting your kind.

Yeah, what kind is that, Shawn?

That's not important, okay?

What's important is...

Shawn, is this
some kind of joke,

or am I really in danger?

Shawn?
Are you still there?

- I'm serious.
- Just stay alive.

"Dear son:
Even though we have never met,

- don't be sad."
- All right, here's the deal.

Just got off the horn
with Vance McMillan,

the gentleman who was attacked
earlier today?

First of all, the guy's a gem.

I feel like I've known him
my whole life.

Golf trip in the works?
You betcha.

Second of all, the personal
items we booked into evidence

from his sweet yellow corvette--
those need returning.

- All right?
- Well...

is he gonna come by
the station or--

Hey, the man has a business
to run, okay?

And you're sitting here
wasting city stationery

on a letter
to your imaginary friend

Raoul the hairless wolf,
who lives in your pantry.

Yeah,
so V-Mac's in his office.

He'll be looking out for you,
all right?

So you're Trout's
errand boy now?

No, you will get over this,
Carlton Jedediah.

You will get your head
back in the game

and you'll get back
to dodging bullets.

Oh, jeez!

Don't be a white van.
Don't be a white van.

Be taupe, or off-white,
or beige.

Off-white,
that's the one.

Jeez.

Okay.

Okay.
You can do this.

No, you can't.

Okay, listen to me.

I really wanna be there
for you, little buddy.

But I'm kind of in a little
pickle right now

and I could really use
your help.

So tell me what to do.

Really?

Okay.

Speaking of which,

I also have a S.E.I.Z.E
appointment at 9:00 A.M.

With your mother.

Did she admit
that she needs help?

She admitted
all sorts of things.

- Things like what?
- What's the good word, Lassie?

- Is that the white van?
- Uh-huh.

That means the Trout shooting
and the V-Mac shooting

are definitely not random.

Nuh-uh.
This ruthless psychopath

has come back
to finish off Vance.

That means Trout
is still in danger.

We should warn him.

Well, should we really, though?

- Hm.
- All right, Lassie.

Let's do this like men.

Okay.

Lassie, what are you doing?

Get up here.

- You guys go. Here.
- What?

Man, I'm not taking your gun.

- Just take it, Gus.
- Hell no.

- Spencer, take my gun.
- I'm not ta--

You need
to gather yourself, man.

Look, I don't know
what is going on with you

but you need to grab hold
of the fourth letter

in S.E.I.Z.E.,
which is the "I."

- Is the "Z."
- Which stands for "zebra."

You need to embrace
your stripes

because they are black,
and they are white,

and they are zigzaggy.

- They're not zigzaggy.
- Who are you, man?

You are Carlton
Skip-the-Middle-Name Lassiter.

And you need to stone up.

And you need
to tickle the stones,

and you need to seize the day.

My stripes have changed,
all right?

Here-take it.

- Take my gun!
- Oh, my gosh.

Keep an eye
on the van, all right?

Make sure nobody comes out.
We'll go snoop.

God!

Damn it.

Dude...

I think this whole
demotion-to-beat-cop thing

is really jacking
with Lassie's head.

Not to mention sucking
all the life right out of him.

Yeah.

My situation has changed,

and I'm not physically capable
of pursuing this case

on my own.

- Gus!
- Shh!

What?

I think I know what's wrong
with Lassie.

- What?
- I think he's dying.

What?
Don't be ridiculous, Shawn.

Come on, son.

Think about the last
24 hours, man.

Think about what we just
saw outside.

The man can barely move.

His disease-ridden body--

right on the cusp of throwing in
the towel of life.

Oh...my..gosh.

Lassie's dying.

Oh, no.
What is that?

Why are you doing that?

What is that?

I'm trying to shed tears
for Lassie.

They won't come,
and I feel ashamed.

Don't do that.
Stop that.

Yeah, maybe we can give him
one more gift,

you know,
before he's worm food,

help him solve this case.

Gets promoted back to detective,
have a little peace

before they lower him
into the ground.

- Lassie.
- I-I couldn't get him.

It's all right.

We understand.

Is Vance okay?

V-Mac is not okay.

So you had the drop
on our bad guy,

and somehow,
with him dead to rights,

you let him get away?

Look at me
when I'm talking to ya.

What happened to your fearless
desire to die, officer?

It--it's totally
still there.

Oh, it better be.

Otherwise,
what good are you for?

Lucky for you,
the time of death on Vance

was placed
at 7:30 P.M., right?

So while your incompetence
cost us our killer,

there was no way
to save poor Vance

because his valuable life
was gone

before you got there.

Not only did this city lose

one of its finest
citizens tonight,

but Vance McMillan was a man

that I was on the verge
of calling "Home Skillet."

And to make matters worse,
I'm in grave danger, right?

Who do you think this man
is coming for next?

Don't shrug
like you don't know.

I want you to hand over
your ticket book and pen

right now.

The other pen too.

No.
Lassie.

- The man's perishing, Gus.
- Mm-hmm.

He's a perisher.

That's something
different, Shawn.

Mm?

Hey, guys.

We traced the white van back
to a Tony Delfin.

We just searched his home.

Neighbors haven't seen him
in a couple days.

Maybe that's because
he's been on a rampage.

I'm still not sure
how he's linked to Trout

and Vance McMillan,
so I'm gonna head down

to the fish market
where he works security

and see what else
we can find out.

So maybe a little bit
of a backup, hm?

Okay.

But we never had
this conversation.

I'm gonna ask Lassie
to come again as well.

He just looks so sad.

I just think if he could help
solve this case,

he'd get in Trout's good graces

and back to his old self,
you know?

All right, look, Jules,
I'm not sure

how to tell you this.

Lassie's...dying.

- He's what?
- It's terminal.

- Would you...
- Ow.

Why would you say that?

Well, just think about
the last couple of days.

Oh, sure,
he's been acting weird.

But that doesn't mean
he's dying.

Shh.

No, I am telling you,
bunny-face:

This is the end.
Six, maybe eight weeks, tops.

No, don't cry.

Please don't cry.

Oh, no, he's dying.
Well, what do we do?

- What is it?
- Not entirely sure.

I mean, we checked his pockets
for quarters.

And his head for temperature.

We did rule out
Pac-Man fever.

- Shawn, this is serious.
- I know.

I can't deal with death.

Look, humor and Atari
are the best medicine

for situations
like this, Jules.

That's just science.

He took my ticket book
and my pens.

Yes, both pens.

Because that's what
they give you, shmoochy pants.

They give you
six to eight weeks' severance.

I don't know.

Maybe this is all for the best.

I'll call you back.

Hi.

Hey, I'm headin' down
to the fish market

where our suspect works.

You wanna come just to help
get your mind off things

for a little while?

- Huh?
- Yeah.

I think it'd be good.

Gus, I gotta tell you:

Your mom was pretty much
an open book

at our session this morning.

What do you mean "open book"?

That's coach-client privilege.

Oh, God.

Oh, Carlton.

You know, don't you?

Do Heckle and Jeckle know too?

Man.

Just try not to let it
spread around the station, okay?

Okay.

Okay, Frank.

What can you tell us
about Tony Delfin?

Worked the guard gate.

He was a top-shelf d-bag.

Yeah, but you haven't seen him
around for a long time, right?

- Hopefully?
- No.

He hasn't shown up for work
the last couple days.

Sweet.

Bob, this part is important.

This part is serious.

You have wood in your beard.

All right, the last "E"
in S.E.I.Z.E.

Stands for "eighties."

And that pertains to you
in a huge way

because I'm talking about
the 1980s.

The greatest decade
of all-time.

- Fashion, Republicans.
- Apollonia, vanity.

So the next time
you're looking around

this stink farm
and you're thinking to yourself,

"My beard is delicious
but my life is horrible,"

I want you to go
into the abscesses of your mind

and think about the '80s,

'cause you know
what you're gonna find?

You're gonna find
hot dog on a stick.

Hot dog on a stick, man.

We traced the white van
to a Tony Delfin.

My gut is telling me
we need to check the fish guts.

I don't think Tony Delfin
is our man.

And there is officially
a ruthless killer

on the loose, you guys.

No.

No!

Okay, so we're almost positive
our victims

weren't chosen at random,

but we can't seem
to connect them in any way.

Uh, that's not true, Jules.

We got confirmation
that Tony Delfin

is also an a-hole.

Which means our theory
about the killer

knocking off a-holes
or aspiring to be

the grand poobah of a-holes
is still alive.

Very much so.

The only thing we know for sure

is that our suspect
killed Tony,

stole his van, and has been
driving that vehicle

for the last few days.

Mm.

Oh, but they won't
let anyone pass.

It's my anniversary.

Chewbacca-ccino
from Javva the Cupp on the fly.

I know who our killer is.

I even know where he lives.

Back where it all began.

Suspect's name
is Patrick Aubashawn.

His wife's inside, hasn't seen
her husband for two days.

- Let's do this.
- Should we wait for Lassie?

Is the suspect inside?

No, Carlton, just his wife.

- You sure?
- Pretty sure, yeah.

Well, like I said,
I kicked Patrick out

a couple days after he missed
our anniversary dinner.

He tried to make up
this tall tale

about being arrested
for sticking up for himself.

But there's no way that's true.

Marie, I am sensing
that Patrick

had a serious problem
with one of the other patrons

at Javva the Cupp?

Yes, he did.

This rich jerk would always
cut in front of him

to order
his Chewbacca-ccino.

And did your husband
have any issues with Tony,

the guard who worked
the gate at the fish market?

Yeah.
Tony was a real d-bag.

He'd always make Patrick
park in the guest lot

for not having
his I.D. badge...

even though he's worked there
for ten years.

And between Tony
and that jerk-ass

at the coffee place,

Patrick was always late
for work.

And then, finally,
a few days ago, he got fired.

I couldn't take it anymore.

But Patrick just refused
to stick up for himself.

I can't be married to
and have kids with someone

who's scared of his own shadow.

What did you just say?

I said I can't be married to

and have kids with someone
who's scared of his own shadow.

'Scuse me.

It's okay.
He's dying.

Marie, we have reason
to believe

that Patrick may have killed
the jerk at the coffee shop,

Tony, and attempted to kill
our current police chief.

What?
Why?

Uh, because they ruined
his life, in a nutshell.

And your boy
went all Mikey Douglas

from Falling Down,

which I saw again recently,
by the way.

Hair was a bold choice.
No way around that.

Between that
and ghost in the darkness,

looks like
he went temporarily...

You can do this, Carlton.

Why would he do this alone?

'Cause he's toast, Jules.
He's man toast.

And he wants to die
in a monsoon of bullets.

- Remember?
- Hailstorm.

We meet again.

Patrick, right?
Okay.

Listen:

I totally get
that you are on a rampage

against all the people
that have wronged you,

but I am not
one of those people.

- Well, you are now.
- Okay, just hear me out, man.

I am in bad shape
right now, okay?

Mentally and physically.

I don't care.
So make your move,

and let's do this.

Patrick, I would really
rather not engage

in an old-west-style standoff
at this particular moment,

all right?

See, I have kind of a big deal

happening in eight months,

and it has totally usurped

my typically unbridled love
of situations like this.

- So...
- Lassie's not dying.

He's not?
Then what's going on?

He's having a little Lassie.

See, the thing is

I'm going to be a father,

and I'm sure you can appreciate

why I would really prefer
that this end peacefully

without any gunplay.

- No can do.
- Okay, okay, j-j-just hang on.

Hang on.

Let me ask you something.

Have you ever heard
of a program called S.E.I.Z.E.?

Good boy said...

You know, I-I'm sure

your kid's life will be fine
without you around.

My old man wasn't around,
and look at me.

So make your move.

So did--did you just say

you're gonna take me away
from my family?

Yes.

What kind of man would I be

if I didn't make the world
a safer place for my son?

I think I have to get in there.

Wait. I think Lassie's
getting his mojo back.

Having a baby
shouldn't make me scared.

It should make me even sharper
than I was before.

- Is that right?
- That's right, pal.

Because I'm
Carlton "Danger" Lassiter.

You wanna draw against me?

Say when.

What?

You're crazy, man.

You can't do that.
You're a policeman.

No.
I'm your Huckleberry.

- You're my what?
- Say when.

You should probably
kiss the floor now.

Doc?

Hell, I didn't know
you was back in town.

That's awesome.

I'm so glad
you're okay, Carlton.

And congratulations
on the baby.

I'm gonna be a papa.

All right.
I'm goin' in.

What's my play here?

Last letter
in S.E.I.Z.E., right?

Nah, I bailed
on that whole thing, man.

Zebras, and eggs,
and I don't even remember

what the "I" stood for.

- I don't know.
- Exactly.

Just go in there
and be yourself.

Are you sure about that?

Go in there
and be someone else.

Good luck.
We're all counting on you.

Officer Lassiter,
you delivered.

I was betting against ya
because it's satisfying.

But you pulled it off.

And for that,
you're gonna be rewarded.

- You mean I'm back to being--
- No.

But in my current review
of the financial budget

for the city, I discovered
there's some available funds

for a department
assigned driver.

- Your driver?
- That's right.

You'll be expected
to deliver me to and from

all of my personal
and business-related events.

- When do I start?
- Well, I ain't walking

to my 7:30 spin class,
now, am I?

It's not about the fear
of dying anymore, Henry.

It's about time.

And my life is out here
chasing bad guys.

Carlton, I've made
more mistakes in my life

than I care to admit.
My marriage was doomed.

My relationship with my son

has been on life support
far too long.

And it was all because
of my love for the job.

But you know what I was
too stupid to realize?

What?

There's always gonna be
a bad guy to chase.

But your kid, your child?

They're only gonna
grow up once.

They're gonna look at you
like you are

the greatest thing
in the world only for so long.

And things that are
gonna happen in their life

are gonna happen once,
one time only.

And those are the memories
you wanna hold on to.

Memories of the job?
No.

They won't even come close.

Trust me.

Thanks, Henry.
I won't forget this.

Anytime.

What?

You're still giving me
a ticket?

Gotta do it.

Gotta fill a quota.

We should do this more often.

And get that taillight
fixed asap, Henry.