pull him out.
I don't wanna cause any problems, Lieutenant.
I just want a new partner.
I understand. Your partner's a racist prick.
But you don't wanna stir up
any bad feelings with him.
He's been on the force for a long time.
Seventeen years.
And I do have to work here, sir.
So you don't mind
that there's a racist prick on the force.
You just don't want him
to ride in your car.
If you need me to go on record
about this, sir, I will.
That'd be great.
Write a full report.
Because I'm anxious to
understand how an obvious bigot
could've gone undetected
in this department for 17 years.
Eleven of which he was under
my personal supervision.
Which doesn't speak very highly
of my managerial skills.
But that's not your concern.
I can't wait to read it.
What if I said I wanted a new partner
for personal reasons?
So now you're saying he's not a racist prick,
you just don't like him.
- Yes, sir.
- That's not a good enough reason.
Then I guess I should think of a better one
and get back to you.
So you think I'm asking you
to make one up.
Uh, no, sir. I just can't
think of one... right now.
You wanna know what I heard?
I heard it was a case
of uncontrollable flatulence.
You want me to say
he has flatulence?
Not him. You.
You have uncontrollable flatulence.
You're too embarrassed to ride with anybody
else so you're requesting a one-man car.
I'm not... comfortable with that,
Lieutenant.
I wouldn't be either. Which is why
I understand your need for privacy.
Just like I'm sure you understand how hard
a black man has to work to get to,
say, where I am, in a racist fucking
organization like the L.A.P.D.
And how easily
that can be taken away.
Now, that being said,
it's your decision.
You can put your career and mine on the line
in pursuit of a just cause,
or you can admit to having
an embarrassing problem
of a personal nature.
Fuck.
Excuse me.
Excuse me. Sir?
You finished?
I replaced the lock.
But you got a real problem with that door.
You fix the lock?
Nah, I replaced the lock.
But you gotta fix that door.
- Just fix the lock!
- Sir, sir, sir. Listen to me.
What you need
is a new door.
- I need new door?
- Yeah.
Okay. How much?
I don't... Sir, you're gonna have to call
somebody that sells doors.
You try to cheat me, right?
You have a friend that fix door?
Nah, I don't have a friend
that fix doors, bro.
Then go and fix the fucking lock, you cheater.
You... You know what?
Why don't you just pay for the lock
and I won't charge you for the time.
You don't fix the lock!
I pay! You think I'm stupid?
You fix the fucking lock,
you cheater!
- I'd appreciate if you'd stop calling me names.
- Then fix the fucking lock!
I replaced the lock!
You gotta fix the fucking door!
You cheat!
You fucking cheater!
- Fine. Don't pay.
- What?
- Have a good night.
- What? No. Wait!
Wait! You come back here!
You fix the lock!
Come here! You fix my lock!
Fix the fucking lock!
I understand. You run over a Chinaman.
Stuff him in the back.
Then bring the truck here
so I can share in the experience.
Come on, man. It's a little bit of blood.
It'll wash right off.
- Georgie, burn this thing.
- Burn it?
It's a brand-new Navigator.
All you need is a little piece of carpet.
You watch the Discovery Channel?
- Not a lot.
- They got some good shit on that channel.
Every night there is a show
with somebody shining a blue light
and finding tiny specks of blood splattered
on carpets and walls and ceiling fans,
bathroom fixtures and special-edition plastic
Burger King tray cups.
The next thing they show is some stupid
redneck in handcuffs
who looks absolutely stunned
that this is happening to him.
Sometimes the redneck is actually watching
the Discovery Channel
when they break in to arrest him.
And he still can't figure out how on earth
they could've caught him!
Do I look like I wanna be
on the Discovery Channel?
No.
Then get the fuck
outta my shop.