fandomtownies | Freelance Police Headquarters, Tuesday

Entry tags:

Freelance Police Headquarters, Tuesday

Max balanced carefully on Lou (Sam's bowling ball), teetering back and forth. On his head was a shiny apple, and all around him the wall was pockmarked with bullet holes.

Across the room, Sam carefully took aim at the apple and fired again, missing and lodging another bullet in the wall.

Max LOVED this game!!!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Freelance Police were on the case! Or, you know, bored. One of the two.

Dale probably should have dropped by this so-called freelance police station sooner but other details and fandom weirdness always seemed to interrupt him before he could get over.

Having some free time in the afternoon, he took it upon himself to see what these ~~lunatics~~ law enforcement people for hire were all about.

While standing on the bowling ball, Max squealed with glee and clasped his hands together. "Look, Sam, a visitor! Do you think he has a case for us?"

Sam squinted, aiiiiiimed ... rats. Missed again.

"Quit fidgeting," he sighed, cocking the gun and smiling at the newcomer. "Greetings, citizen! Are you in need of police services this fine day?"

Dale boggled for a moment at... a dog shooting at a rabbit. Who apparently both talked.

"Um. Actually no," Dale said carefully. "I am the police. Sheriff Dale Cooper."

"Sheriff, eh?" Max asked, drawing his gun and aiming it at Dale. Yes, while still on the bowling ball. "Sam, with you as my witness, he is most definitely NOT the Deputy."

"No maiming fellow officers of the law, Max," Sam said sternly. "That always ends in mutual arrests, bugged phones, and sissyfights."

Sissy-fights were undignified, for members of law enforcement. Even fake ones.

Dale's mouth hung open for a second before he managed to shut it again.

"Yes. Um, of course," Dale said when he got his use of vocalization back. "Really I just wanted to follow up with you folks here. I understand you are providing security services for the island residents?"

Max sighed and put his gun away again. "Sheesh, get a load of THIS guy. We're not security, we're Freelance Police. We are, in fact, very INsecure."

"We have badges and everything," Sam shared. "Well, I've got a badge. I don't know if Max ever got one. We investigate crime, and occasionally arrest that girl who breaks in every week. She says she's our secretary, but I sure don't remember hiring her."

Except for when he did. Obviously.

Dale opened his mouth to say something and then thought better of it. These were sentient animals with firearms. And in some way he found the whole strange thing fascinating and amusing.

"Well if she does continue to break in to the office," Dale said trying to fight a grin. "I would be happy to provide my department's assistance in the matter. We do have adequate jail cells to hold any kind of felon."

"Oh, not THIS kind!" Max told him. "She's a slippery little devil, she is. Just when we think we've got her arrested and locked up, she feeds our fish, does her paperwork, takes her wages, and goes home! The filthy aggravated-jaywalker-with-intent-to-break-and-loiter-er! She's DEFINITELY a criminal mastermind."

"She might be in league with that red-haired kid," Sam noted. "The one we actually did hire. It could be an inside job. You can't trust employees -- they're the ones that embezzle from you."

"Sounds like you have a crime wave right under your roof," Dale commented. "Maybe you should investigate that first?"

Max shrugged. "We can investigate more than one case at a time, you know. They always turn out to be related, anyway."

"Related how?" Dale asked looking amused.

Give them a call!

The phone.... the phone is riiiiiiiiiiiiinging!

"I GOT IT!!! I GOT IT!!!"

Gravity took a vacation for the moment, as Max attempted to run while still on the bowling ball, and the apple toppled off his head in slow motion, getting some awesome hang time. "I GOT IT!!!"

Sam took a half-second to aim carefully and shoot again -- this time at the bowling ball itself, which went careening out from under Max's feet.

Max taken care of, Sam leaped towards the phone.

Max was splayed on the floor for all of a few perfect seconds before the apple fell and bounced off his head. Growling, he grabbed it and chucked it at Sam.

The apple nailed Sam in the back of the head, and sent him sprawling forward. He only caught the edge of the table with his paw before it toppled over onto him.

The phone was, somehow, still ringing.

Max scrambled forward, slid, and swiped at Sam's foot, and then started using Sam's pant leg to pull himself along the floor toward the phone.

This meant that Sam had to aim a kick right at Max's fuzzy white forehead. Clonk!

He picked up the receiver -- no, the phone had landed upside-down. He picked up the base of the phone and scooted the receiver out from under it.

"Freelance Police Headquarters," he said happily.

"Crap. This isn't the Erik Estrada fan club?"

"No," Sam sighed. "No, it isn't. I suppose that means you don't have their number, either?"

Fate was mocking him again.

"Why? Are you also fans of the great Erik Estrada?"

From the other end of the phone, there were a few weak, distant grunts as Max tried to grab for the phone and Sam pushed him away.

"More his earlier work," Sam admitted. "When he was underground, that was one thing, but once everyone knew about him ..."

He sighed. "It just wasn't the same."

"I didn't know he performed buried."

"Weeeeeeeeeell," Sam said carefully, "if you take Erik Estrada, and tie him up in a mine shaft, and tell him he's not getting out until he's sung all of the verses to 'Copa Cabana,' sometimes, a little bit of magic can happen right in your own back yard. Or if not your back yard, at least in that mine shaft where we kidnapped Erik Estrada."

"Can you really call it kidnapping?" Max asked. "I mean, he DID come willingly. ...Once we had the guns pointed at him, I mean."

"Do they have that performance out on DVD?" Jamie asked. "I can't find it on YouTube."

"Private performance," Sam said apologetically. "I would share it with the fan club, but ... here we are."

"If only there were some computer network connected to the world that would give us this information!"

Ahhh, canon, I love you so!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Freelance Police Headquarters, Tuesday

Talk to Sam and Max

Re: Talk to Sam and Max

Re: Talk to Sam and Max

Re: Talk to Sam and Max

Re: Talk to Sam and Max

Re: Talk to Sam and Max

Re: Talk to Sam and Max

Re: Talk to Sam and Max

Re: Talk to Sam and Max

Re: Talk to Sam and Max

Re: Talk to Sam and Max

Re: Talk to Sam and Max

Re: Talk to Sam and Max

Re: Talk to Sam and Max

Re: Talk to Sam and Max

Re: Talk to Sam and Max

PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

Re: PHONE!!!

OOC