NYPD Blue
Lucky Luciano

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Alex Richmond: D | Grade It Now!
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Lucky Luciano

Night. Ricky and Sip are doing paperwork. Sip, racist as can be, says, "I hate the cagey dago getting away with it." WHATEVER. Fancy decides to hold off signing on the report, leaving it open for more work. Mini-Sip comes in. "You guys wanna buy some chawklit? $500 worth, cause you know you ain't dealing wit no rat." No, just a midget extortionist. "So it was Ana, huh? You got this on Luciano." Sip, all salty, says, "What do you got?" "I got chawklit!" Ricky says he'll take 'em, and Mini-Sip says, "He poisoned his wife back in Napoli. Slow-acting arsenic. A little everyday in her pastaccini." How does he know all this? Theresa told him. "She's got a torment of conscience. I am her true confessor. Dig the body up, you'll see. Plus, he's taking her back to Napoli, extraditing himself back to the country of his first crime." Sip asks, "How old are you anyway?" How old is this fucking bit? The midget is "sick of people asking (him) this today! 27. As God made me." Sip rolls his chair over and gets some chawklit for Theo. Mini-Sip says he also has original Mets memorabilia for sale. As if anyone cares.

Greg and Baldwin are preparing for their now-habitual evening run. Baldwin is not naked. Greg is rolling around on the floor, performing calisthenics that must have been popular when Sip was a boy. Where's Jack LaLane with a giant medicine ball when you need him? Greg, or the "Mutt" in this now-tiresome Mutt and Jeff combination, is blathering on. "Understand me, Baldwin, the slightest whiff of practical jokes and our partnership is history." Baldwin hides the bucket of pig's blood under the bench and says yes. "Practical joking is the downfall of humanity." Baldwin lets the farm animals out of Greg's locker and shoos them away. A cow moos softly, disappointed. Greg tries to bring up the bathroom incident and Baldwin, master of subtlety, tries to change the subject. "How much weight have you lost?" Ah, vanity, thy name is (fill in name of any actor here). The answer to how much weight Greg has lost is three and three-quarter pounds, or, not noticeable. Greg straps a white terrycloth headband on and says, "Let's not discuss practical jokes or their ramifications the entire run." I guess that means we can't discuss that hideous headband. Greg jogs out the door with a sign that says, "KICK ME HARD" taped to his back. Baldwin follows. He is still not naked. Stupid episode.

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