NYPD Blue
This Old Spouse

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Did Don Die or didn't he?

Warning: Bad language. No nudity. You got to see Baldwin's ass last week, so deal.

Here goes the longest "Previously on NYPD Blue" yet: Di tells Kirky the job is watching her prick loser ex-husband Don, Kirky goes and tells Don he's a conspiracy collar anytime they want him, Don gets arrested and Fancy tells him not to blab about Kirky to anyone ever or else, Di tells Denby Jill had nothing to do with Don's dealings, Di asks Kirky if she could have had anything to do with Don's dealings and Kirky says maybe ("I could have dropped off pastries his mom made for parties...."), Kirky helps Don get away, Don STEALS BOBBY'S RING, Denby finds a body in a dumpster with Bobby's ring and Di gets it back, Di asks Kirky if "there would be any point in knowing the details" if something bad happened to Don, Kirky cries, Denby asks Di to drink with him and then for kisses, which she gives him. Eww.

Some feedback-y guitar that sounds just like Sonic Youth's 100% turns into those stoopid keyboards and we arrive at the station house. John is getting biz-zay with some whiteout. Work it, John! A big old burly man with a mustache comes in. He looks just like Lachs Walensa, so we'll call him Wally. By way of introduction he gives John his card and introduces himself. He does body work on cars. John perks up. Ooh, butch. Ricky gets up and is like, do you need to talk to a detective? Nah, John will do. Kidding. Wally lumbers over to Ricky and Sip's desk area and starts his sad story: "A guy I love with is doing armed robberies. My wife got involved with a good Samaritan-type prison rehab program -- she had me put him to work in one of my shops - and she had him move in. I smell funny smells when they hang out in the living room late at night..." Ricky interjects, "Like burning Styrofoam?" Wally says yeah. "Is that some kind of drug?" Ricky says some people say crack smells like burning Styrofoam. I'm glad I don't know that first-hand...it's disgusting. Wally gets all maudlin as he proceeds to the self-pity part of his visit. "I was an athlete in high school...a very active bowler..." Oh, boo hoo! Sip rolls his eyes at the speed of light. I have to learn how to do that. "...now I'm so depressed." Ricky asks about the stick-ups. How did Wally know? "Every so often he ("he" being felon Joey Fica) waves around some cash. I started writing down dates." Ricky says they'll check the dates against unsolved robberies. Sip asks (kind of rudely) how long this has been going on. This is a real issue for Sip: He demands immediacy. You know something, you act. Or that's what he wants. Wally says four and a half months. Sip says, "Four and a half months," so sneeringly I think Wally will cry. Ricky says they'll check, again. Wally gets up and says falteringly, "I'll tell you, low as I've been feeling lately, I wouldn't be surprised if I was a little slow on the uptake." Wouldn't you now! Neither would anyone else, Wally. He leaves and Sip waits until he's gone to yell, "Hey, don't be to hard on yourself. Your wife's smoking crack with a convicted felon in your guest room; there's gotta be a million good reasons for THAT." (Insert rimshot here followed by the sound of weak clapping)

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NYPD Blue

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