Saturday, February 24, 2007
Tonight's Episode: "Dashing teh Meter"
(Voice-Over) My name's Hoop. I'm a lawyer.
My brother said it best: The law is a ruthless
mistress. . .
(Fade To--) Hoop, standing in his office, gazing
out an open window. He holds a tall glass of amber
liquid. His gaze is intent, pensive.
(Voice-Over) Some lawbaws handle the pressure better
than others. Others...turn to the morning drink.
Hoop spots something out the window. He smirks,
removes his handkerchief from his front pocket,
and stuffs it in the glass. Hoop takes out a lighter,
fires it up, and lights the handkerchief. He hurls
teh flaming contraption out the window.
Hoop: Yeah!! You'd better run!! And don't come back!
(Voice-Over) Bill collectors. They never stop.
Hoop shrugs, turns to his desk, and picks up the
Hoop: MacGyver? Crane!
No, not Denny. Hoop.
Hello? Still there? Good. Well, you've won our bet.
You were right: nail-polish remover works as well
as gasoline. I just tried it out.
Of course I'll pay up! When have I ever filched on one
of our bets?
Well, other than that.
Okay, okay. I promise this time: The cookies will be in
the mail this weekend.
Hoop peers across the office at his Easy-Bake
Okay, good. Glad to hear it.
::sigh:: Yes, I'll tell Denny you said hello. Later.
Hoop hangs up, sits down.
Hoop (Voice-Over): Yessir, the law is one stress-
packed vocation. Some practitioners have even
gone insane from the stress. But not me. . .
Hoop glances at the bottle of amber nail-polish
remover on his desk, beside a well-worn copy of
The Anarchist's Cookbook.
Hoop (Voice-Over): . . . because I have hobbies.
HOOP N. CRANE
Hoop (Voice-Over): It was a typical, lackluster day
. . .Then she walked through the door. . .
(Close-up) of doorknob turning, and a Mysterious
Figure entering the office.
Hoop (Voice-Over): She was buxom and blonde. . .if
we graded girth on a Kate Moss curve, and wigs count
Myst "Blonde": My name's. . .Dibby Stale.
Hoop: Come off it, Miss Fresh. Your disguise is a non-
Biddy Fresh removes her wig, plops in a chair.
BF: Someone stole my purse! That's actionable! I wanna
Office filled with an ear-piercing Squawwwk! Hoop
and BF turn toward the noise-source.
(Cut to--) A parrot in a cage.
Parrot: Squawk! Squawk! Actionable!! Squawk!
BF: What the ph*que is that?!
Hoop: That's Server. My paralegal
Hoop (Voice-Over): Conventional wisdom has it that
Detective Baretta's cockatoo died in 1982, in a freak
Not so--at least, not according to Robert Blake, who gave
me Server--in exchange for services rendered, 'natch.
But that's a story for another time. . . .
Hoop: Okay, Miss Fresh. Who do you wanna sue this
BF: Yes. . . .
Fresh wrinkles her nose.
BF: Do you smell smoke?
Hoop: Smoke? (Sniffs) Oh, yes. That. Just a small fire
BF: Shouldn't we . . . cawl someone about it?
Hoop: No need. You see, I have a saying Miss Fresh:
"Fires are like lawsuits--they go away if you just ignore 'em."
BF (lights up): Hey!! That's my saying, too, hombre! I'm
liking you already!
Hoop (smiles broadly): I'm glad; that makes one of us.
I think I'll take your case.
Server: Wawwwwwk! On contingency! Contingency! Woo-hoo!
Hoop (to Server): Okay, if you say so.
BF: Contingency?! Haa-haaaaaaaaah!! That reminds me of
a joke I wrote about a certain Count. It goes like this--
(Close-up) Hoop clicks a button under his desk marked,
"STFU!" Biddy's voice cuts off.
(Open On): Judge's office. Elderly male Judge sits behind a desk,
cluttered with books, papers, and a slot-machine named, 'Lady Justice'.
Hoop and Biddy Fresh sit on a couch, facing another couch bearing two
Judge: Okay, I've called you all here today, to see if we can't mediate your
differences. But first, Mr. Crane, what in holy hell is that?! (Points to Server,
resting on Hoop's shoulder).
Hoop: This is Mr. Server; he's assisting me on this case.
Server: Corpus Juris Secundum! Corpus Juris Secundum! Waaaahk!
Judge: Oy boy! Whatever...I've read your brief, Hoop.
Hoop: And lemmee guess: my brief's stellar presentation of case law
and state law appealed to your primal sense of justice?
Judge: Not. Even. Close. You haven't proved jurisdiction. You haven't
shown cause. Hell, you-all aren't even suing a human being! No, I'm
here because I owe your brother, Denny, a favor!
Hoop: Thanks all the same, Your Honor.
Judge (to Grim-Faced Lawyers): And who might you-all be?
Atty #1: We represent the city of Ex Los Angeles. A certain brother
of our adversary, here, convinced us that the parking meter in
question counts as a "city employee."
Judge: I see. Well, Miss Fresh, I'll ask you: How much would it take
for your to walk away from this--snort!--lawsuit?
BF: A million smackeroos, hombre!
Atty #1: Ab-effin-surd! Plaintiffs are ill-prepared; they haven't even
produced the alleged 'defendant.' (Atty #2 whispers in Atty#1's ear)
In fact, as I understand it, the 'defendant' has vanished from the street
Hoop: Au contraire, my good man! Call witness Dog!
Door opens. Enter: Dog the Bounty Hunter, and an Elderly White-Coated
Man. Dog pushes a wheelbarrow bearing the Parking Meter.
Dog: Bastard was hiding in Acupulco. But I got 'im! (Dog turns to Hoop):
So this cancels my poker-debt with Denny?
Hoop (grinning broadly): You bet, Dog!
Dog: Hmph...that's how I got into your brother's debt in the first place!
Judge (to White-Coated Man): And who are you, sir?
White Coat: Dr. Quincy, your honor. I'm a coroner. I autopsied this meter,
Judge: I see. And what did you find?
Quincy, M.E.: Fifty seven quarters, twenty-two dimes, and seven nickels.
Atty #2: Your honor, in the interest of saving the court's precious time, we're
prepared to offer Miss Fresh the entire contents of said parking meter. This
Quincy, M.E.: But my inquest got even more interesting. One of the nickels
(Holds up a coin) was a 1937 three-legged Buffalo nickel minted in Denver.
In this condition, it's worth well over one...thousand...dollars.
Attys #1 & #2 blanche in realization, whisper furiously to one another.
Atty #2: Er...well...our offer was to cut Miss Fresh a check for the $19.45
BF: No! I want that nickel! It's my nickel!
Atty 2: Well, Miss Fresh, there's no earthly way for us to know if the nickel
was yours, in the first place.
Quincy, M.E.: Actually...I took some fingerprints from the nickel, and ran
'em through the criminal database. The results (Holding aloft a manilla
envelope) are right here.
Atty #2: Miss Fresh, we're preapred to forego the unsealing of the report,
and settle this matter for (produces wallet, rifles through his bills)
Seven hundred dollars.
BF: Look, I want pain and suffering damages!! I want defamation dues!
Server spits a high-velocity seed at Fresh's head. Fresh faints from the blow
Server: STFU™! STFU™! Squawk!
Hoop: We'll take the deal, gentlemen.
Hoop, Atty #2 shake hands
(Open on:) A street corner. Hoop (with Server perched on his shoulder)
and Quincy guard the wheelbarrow, which now bears a conked-out Miss Fresh.
Hoop: So, Quincy...whose fingerprints were on that nickel?
Quincy (shrugs): What fingerprints?
Hoop: Ah-hahhhhhh...Nicely played, Doctor.
Quincy: So this cancels the favor I owe Denny?
Hoop: Yes, Quince. Most definitely.
Miss Fresh comes to.
BF (amnesic): Wha-what happened?
Hoop counts out five hundred-dollar bills; hands them to Fresh
Hoop: Congratulations, Miss Fresh. You won.
BF: Really?! I've never won a case before!
Hoop: What a coincidence! Neither have I.
BF: Maybe we should...go out and celebrate? There's this great
Comedy Club I know.
Hoop: (Checks date-book, which bears only one entry: FIX TOILET)
I'll have to pass, Miss Fresh; I have another client to attend to.
(Screaming fire engine barrels down the street.)
BF: Where do you s'pose it's going?
Hoop (shrugs): Who knows?
TEH-TV (C) 2007
This episode dedicated to Denny F. Crane! and Fatwa Arbuckle
...because they "asked for it."
Hip, hip, teh YAY®! Muy excellente, señor Minteh.
I dunno why, but the Baretta reference and teh schtick with the Molotov cocktail were particularly amusing.