Congratulations, Zeke!

If this involves sex, I'll be the most surprised person alive.
Anyway, I brought food.

 

I have no idea what this thread is about, so....



Jay: What to say about this piece of work? Fuck if I don't find myself without the right words. Me, as gifted a golden throat as any of you cocksuckers being loose from religion are ever likely to hear. What can I say about the dearly departed? I mean really?

Bunk: He died young. Too young.

Norris: Under 40 years old.

Carver: Though had he lived his dick would have been 134.

Jay: Shut up. It's coming to me. He was the black sheep. The permenant pariah. He asked no quarter of the bosses and none was given. He learned no lessons. He acknowledged no mistakes. He was as stubborn a Mick as ever strolled out of the Northeast parish to take a patrolman's sheild. He brook no authority, he did what he wanted to do and he said what he wanted to say and, in the end, he gave you the clearances. He was natural police.

Bunk: Yes he was.

Jay: And I don't say that about many people, even when they're here on the felt, I don't give that one up unless it happens to be true. Natural po-lice.

(Fake tears).

Jay: But Christ, what an asshole. And I'm not taking about the ordinary gaping orafice that all of us posses. I mean an all-encompassing, all-consuming out-of-proportion-to-every-other-facet-of-his-humanity chasm. From, who's born, if I may quote Shakespeare, no traveler has ever returned.

Jimmy: What the fuck did I do?

Bunk: Shut the fuck up! You're dead to us now!

(Lester enters)

Bunk: Oh ho! Here's his partner in crime!

Lester: Now, now! Be gentle! Be gentle! I'm a civilian now.

Bunk: Your papers went in now, huh?

Lester: This afternoon. 32 years.

Shardene: And four months.

Lester: (Looking at Jimmy.) Who-hoo. Ya'll did a fine job with him, you did. He looked to be about 10 years younger than I remember.

Bunk: C'mon, there's enough room for more to be laying out.

Lester: Nah, nah, one at a time! You don't crowd a man at his own wake.

Jimmy: C'mon Lester, come and snuggle.

Lester: That's our secret Jimmy. I got Shardene with me.

Jay: If you you gentlemen will spare us this unfortunate homoerotic lapse, I will conclude my elegetic remarks.

Bunk: Then do it ya gabby mutherfucker!

Jay: To conclude! To conclude I say, he gave us 13 years on the line. Not enough for a pension, but enough for us to know that he was...

(PUT THE FUCKING SONG ON HUGH!)

Jay: despite his negligible Irish ancestry, his defects of personality, and his inconstant sobriety and hygene, a true murder police. Jimmy, I say this seriously: If I was laying there dead on some Baltimore street corner, I'd want it to be you, standing over me, catching the case.

Dozerman: (Cough) Bullshit!

Jay: Because brother, when you were good, you were the best we had.

Bunk: Shit, if you were dead on some corner, it was probably Jimmy that done ya.

 

I, as other are, am completely in the dark as to what is being celebrated here.

But I will say that you deserve every success and happiness in life, and whatever it is that has happened, I am thrilled for you.

 

He must have given up nose rings.

 

Is this related to the Vermont thing? If so, don't skimp on the cake or the drinks. It's what people will remember most of all.

 

Woohoo! Way to go Zeke. Keep doing whatever you are doing!

 

Eh.

 

Zeke's hockey team won something?

 

Hey, it's only one day. Zeke's fantasy baseball team hasn't won anything yet. DTGDTN!

 

I'm so proud of you, Zeke. I never thought this day would come. I'm almost beside myself with joy for you.

Shit ... now I'm tearing up ... congrats man.