01x01 - Beginner's Luck

Episode transcripts for the 2016 TV show "sh**t the Messenger". Aired: October 10, 2016 to December 2016.*
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"sh**t the Messenger" centers on a young journalist, who is drawn into the criminal underworld when she witnesses an apparent g*ng-related m*rder, and becomes embroiled in a web of urban gangs, the political class, corporate power-brokers and the police.
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01x01 - Beginner's Luck

Post by bunniefuu »

(Inhale) Ohhh...

(Punching thud) Ungh!

(Inhale) Ahhh...

(Grunt) Agh!

(Inhale) Ahhh...

(Punching thuds)

(Coughing)

Ahhh...

(Exhales)

You know, we gotta stop this.

That's what you said the last time.

And I meant it too.

Mm, really?

(Kiss) Mmm...

(Cell phone buzzes)

Um...

(Cell phone buzzes)

No. Hm-hm.

Hmmm.

Mhm... Sorry.

Oh, where are you going?

(Phone chimes)

(Keys tap, beep)

What are you doing?

I gotta go.

Now?!

Yep. Pass me my um...

Where?

That's against the rules.

Right... boundaries.

Ahh, you can't leave me like this.

You'll live.

Mm. Bye.

Mmm!

Bye.

You don't gotta go.

(Chuckles)

♪ ♪

(Cell phone rings)

(Phone beeps on)

Hey.

This better be good.

I was in the middle of um... something.

Come on. This is gonna put you on the front page.

Front page of the world, Miss Daisy.

(Chuckles) Oh-ho.

Well, that sounds like bullshit to me.

You're gonna apologize for that when you see what I got.

Don't think I haven't heard that before.

You're funny.

I'd say frustrated that you won't tell me what this is about Come on, Miss Daisy.

(Phone beeps)

What is seen cannot be unseen.

What does that even mean? I gotta go.

For the record, I am expecting trumpets-and-fairy-dust good.

(Beeps off and clicks over)

Hey, Dad, what's up?

(Engine idles)

(Crickets chirp)

(Turns ignition off)

(Door opens then shuts)

Yo. Where you been? She's gonna be here soon!

Dang, man, what happened to you?

It's a long story. Wassup?

Sorry. It's just... we gotta talk.

Later. Where is it?

I changed my mind.

Stop with the jokes, man. Come on.

I can't do it, Hassan.

We can stop this now or I'm dead, you understand?

Hey, easy, easy!

Just give it to me!

I didn't bring it.

(Car rumbles up)

(Muffled arguing) Tell me where is it?!

Why? Why are you doing this to me?

So I can be k*lled?!

Tell me! Tell me, where is it?!

Y-You're crossing me, is that what this is?

I'm not... (g*nsh*t pops)

(Distorted thud)

(Shocked exhale)

(Heavy breathing)

(g*nsh*t pops)

(Dogs bark in the distance)

(g*nshots pop repeatedly)

(Glass shatters)

(Shocked gasps) Oh my God!

(Engine turns, tires squeal)

(Engine roars)

sh*t! (Engine Revs) Come on!

(Tires squeal)

(Heavy breathing)

(Engine roars)

Ahhhh!

(Calming breaths)

Oh my...

(Crying)

(Panicked breaths)

(Heart pounding)

(Calming exhales)

(Phone rings)

9-1-1, what's your emergency?

(Emotional breaths)

Are you there? Hello?

(Emotional breaths)

Don't hang up.

Ah, I'm here.

Sorry.

Are you okay?

(Heavy breathing)

Yeah...

(Door slams shut)

Um...

He's um... he's a kid...

(Heavy breathing)

There's... a lot of blood.

Um... Oh my...

The police are on their way and I'm here as long as you need me.

(Sirens wail in the distance)

Um, I hear them.

Good. I'll stay on the line until they arrive.

I'm okay now. Thanks.

(Heavy breathing)

Oh my God...

(Sirens wail in the distance)

(Thunder rolls)

(Calming breaths)

Oh my God...

(Thunder rolls)

♪ ♪

(Thunder rolls, rain patters)

(Sirens wail)

(Overlapping chatter)

Jo: I don't believe her.

What reporter comes here alone and is not meeting someone?

Yup.

Do you think the kid was her dealer?

No. I know her, she's not into this sh*t.

How well you know her?

We found three shell casings where the witness indicated the sh*ts came from.

Oh, it seems like our witness is on point.

Seems like.

I'm gonna send her home.

We'll bring her in if we need her.

You're the boss.

All right, let's get this body to the morgue!

This rain ain't doin' us any favours!

Woman: Move it! Get out of the way, please!

(Camera shutter clicks)

This what the text was about?!

I was meeting a source.

But I wasn't lying!

I really don't know anything.

Yeah, so who's your source?

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪

The question, Marty, is what are we legally obliged to tell the police?

Actually the real question is when is she going to tell the police whom she was meeting.

I'm-I'm doing a story on him.

Doesn't that make him a source?

What's the story about?

I... um... I don't know.

But it's drug related, right?

There was all this money and that's what my brain says, but there's no way that Hassan would meet me while doing a deal.

How do you know this guy?

Ah, I met him a community event a while ago, and he randomly called me up, said he had something.

Something big.

Did you arrive early?

Maybe the deal was supposed to happen first.

Um...

I was a little early.

So, technically, he's not a source, right?

Exactamundo.

And by not giving up his name to the police, that's obstruction of justice.

But he wasn't the sh**t!

Maybe not.

But there's a pretty good chance Hassan knew the person pissed off enough to get a g*n, put b*ll*ts in it, and try to k*ll him!

She needs to make a phone call.

Mmhm.

(Phones ringing)

Go home. Get some rest.

No!

I-I mean, um, I'm okay.

I wanna do the story.

All right. But you make that call.

(Phones ringing)

(Low hum of chatter)

It's Daisy, right?

Uh-huh.

You okay?

I'm fine. Busy.

The victim is a Somali kid, right?

It's all over the police scanner.

Just so you know, the Somali community is really difficult to get into.

Really?

Yeah.

But I know the local Imam, and I'm good friends with the community worker in Dixon City.

And you're telling me this because?

Well...

I know the world.

We would share the byline.

That's tempting, but ah...

I got this.

You know, I really am just trying to help.

Mm-hm. Yup.

(Computers keys clack)

(Simon exhales)

(Sighs)

Hey, Simon!

Look, no offence.

You're um... you're the dude around here.

You've had tons of exclusives and I'm just out of entertainment.

If you really want to help me, give me your contacts.

Wow.

The thing is, Daisy, I... don't think the Imam would talk to you.

I'll chance it.

Am I interrupting?

I was supposed to meet you.

Mm-hm.

Mm-hm. Sorry.

Just don't be late for Father Matthews tomorrow.

Okay. (Kiss)

We have these, um, marriage classes.

Oh... Congrats.

Yeah. Cassie, this is Daisy.

Daisy, Cassie.

It's nice to meet you.

Nice to meet you too.

So um... I'll just text you those contacts.

Really? Oh. Thanks. Thanks a lot.

Mm-hm. Come on.

(Knocking on door)

Dad...

(Knocking on door)

Dad!

(Loud sounds from the TV)

(Keys jingle)

(Laughs)

Didn't you hear me knocking, Dad?

Hi, Chloe. Oh I-I can't...

The television is so loud, I can't get the remote to go down.

(Laughing)

Look who's on.

TV: (g*nshots)

Every man for himself, fellas!

Oh, there you are, boss.

You were supposed to be a witness, weren't ya?!

(Laughing)

It's stupid... (Laughing)

(Cell phone buzzes)

(Phone beeps on) Hey you.

Hey.

I bought groceries for Dad so you're up next week.

Cool, thanks.

What do you want to do for our dinner tomorrow?

Ah, tomorrow?

Okay. I guess I could just order in like the last time.

Oh, ah, that's great. Thanks, Cloe, but I gotta go.

Of course.

Hug Dad for me.

Mm-hm.

(Laughing)

Look out...

(Cell phone buzzes)

Hey.

How ya doin'?

Better.

I'm, um, starting to remember things.

Yeah?

But, ah, you know what would really help my memory is if I got a name for the victim.

Yeah? Why would I do that?

Because I'll tell you who I was meeting.

All right. You first.

Hassan Moussa Ali.

Why?

He was supposed to give me something, but then everything went crazy.

Your turn.

All right, I gotta go find the next-of-kin.

So until then, nothing gets out.

Agreed.

Khaalid Faaruq Suleman, out of Dixon City.

Now you don't say where you got this.

I know... my hot unnamed source.

Hey, why don't I get back to you?

Uh, what's the spelling?

(He hangs up)

Lutz? Hello?

(Phones ringing)

(Sighs)

(Grunts with effort)

(Window scrapes open)

Agh!

(Lights click on)

(Objects clatter)

(Pained grunt)

(Heavy breathing)

(Pained grunt)

(Loud thump)

(Lights click off)

(Window rasps shut)

(Door creaks open)

(Lights click on)

(Dog barks)

(Pained grunt)

(Door shuts, engine turns)

(Low hum of chatter, phones ringing)

(Computer keys clack)

(Beeping)

(Low hum of chatter, phones ringing)

(Computer keys clack)

(Low hum of chatter, phones ringing)

(Computer keys clack)

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪

That's him.

(Clicks phone off)

(Sighs)

(Pen rasps)

♪ ♪

Announcement: Detective Parker call 256.

Detective Parker call 256.

There you go, Jo. The coffee's hot.

No sh*t, Sherlock.

I've been calling the Suleman house, and the uniform is saying nobody's home.

We'll check it out after our shift.

(Phone rings)

Detective Lutz.

Sure, we're on our way.

sh*ts fired at 25 Roanoke Way.

There goes our night.

Yup.

The victim is Khaalif Suleman. He runs with Mogadishu boys.

Dealer, armed robber, ah...

Yeah, okay. See you soon.

Looking forward to it. Bye.

(Phone beeps off)

Ah... I'll come back.

Sit.

What do you think?

The black?

So, our victim's the local g*ng banger.

What's the angle?

Twitter's been buzzing the past couple of hours.

People are angry.

They don't feel safe in parks for themselves or their kids.

I'd go with that.

So the safe haven is defiled angle.

(Grunts) It's not bad.

You're missing the obvious.

Okay.

You witnessed this m*rder.

Not everyone gets that lucky.

Give us insight into what it's like to be part of a story by becoming part of the story.

Isn't that what I'm not supposed to do?

My objectivity and all that.

Well, objectively... you witnessed a m*rder.

Yeah, I can do that.

Good. What do you have for sources?

Confirmation from a detective on the case.

He's an unnamed source.

I need named sources.

(Knocking on door)

Simon?

Help me with the zipper.

Daisy's on the Somali sh**ting and needs your expertise.

No. We already spoke. She's all over it.

Yeah, Simon shared some contacts and I'm calling the family for quotes.

(Zipper zips)

I think you should do this.

It's okay, Mary.

All right then.

I'm going to a drinks thingy.

I should be back by 11-ish.

Have the story ready, it goes online.

If it's really good, it's front page.

I can do it.

You hear that?

What?

That's the sound of my door closing oh so gently.

Right.

(Computer keys clack)

(Phones ringing, low hum of chatter)

♪ ♪
Oh, sh*t.

(Computer keys clack)

"...the v*olence of Khaalif Suleman's death shocked me, but standing over his lifeless body I saw an innocent boy.

Perhaps in death he'll find greater peace than he had in his short life."

It's good.

Don't see anything from the family though.

There's no home phone.

But I got Khaalif's social worker who confirmed his extensive rap sheet.

I need more.

Hassan Ali?

He's not picking up.

I can keep digging and wait for the relatives or until Hassan calls, but... we have the scoop now.

It's only a matter of time before someone else gets there first.

What about art?

You must have a horseshoe up your ass.

I'll send this through to the copy desk.

Congratulations.

You've got your first front page.

(Happy exhale)

(Jeep rumbles by)

(Cell phone buzzes)

(Waking moans)

(Phone chimes)

Oh God.

(Phones ringing, low hum of chatter)

(Loud knock on glass)

(Yells) Daisy!

Come in here!

(Footsteps clank)

(Phones ringing, low hum of chatter)

Tell me again who fed you the information.

A homicide detective who's very close to the investigation.

Would this homicide detective for any reason want to f*ck with you?

I uh... (nervous laugh)

W-What do you mean?

Oh, I don't know.

Maybe he wants to see you fall flat on your face, because he gave you the wrong f*cking name!

I... I... I don't...

You k*lled the wrong brother!

In this case, there are two brothers with almost identical names.

In Somalia, they don't have family names.

The name in convention is first name, father's first name, grandfather's.

So my Somali name would be Simon Boris Peter.

My brother would be Paul Boris Peter.

Brothers.

Yes!

The real victim... Khaalid Faaruq Suleman, 18.

He was an 'A' student at South Court School for the Arts.

His brother, Khaalif Faaruq Suleman, 19, is a member of the Mogadishu boys.

as*ault charges, drug charges, g*n charges.

I just got off the phone with the Editor-In-Chief who just got off the phone with a very sanctimonious Deputy Police Chief who is positively giddy that we got this wrong!

I... I am so... sorry... I...

Yes, Marty, we will print a correction and apology.

I'm fired?

No, actually.

No, you're not.

Not today.

The first thing you're going to do is apologize to the family.

Then you are going to work with Simon here on a feel-good piece about Khaalid.

K-H-A-A-L-I-D.

Now maybe he was dealing or not, but this is our screw-up, so you better find something really f*cking good to say!

And then you're off this story!

Go on, go!

♪ ♪

Ignore 'em.

♪ ♪

sh*t, sh*t! sh*t! sh*t!

sh*t! f*ck!! f*ck!! sh*t!!

(Crying)

(Sniffling)

Your girl got it wrong.

What are you talking about? sh*t!

How is the Ali warrant coming?

Uh, just about done.

You see that?

The older one runs the boys.

This one ends up dead.

Maybe the sh**t mixed them up.

So, what do you got?

Ali left the boys a couple of years ago right after that w*r with 5PM.

Apparently he's clean.

Poster boy for rehabilitation.

Yeah, but he's mixed up in something.

You think he's the intended Vic?

That's our guess.

Find out for sure.

Oh, and tap Judge Reeves.

She's usually good for a quick turnaround.

Uh, you notified the victim's family, right?

We tried but we couldn't get...

With this sh*t in the papers?!

Get over there right now!

♪ ♪

Morning, your Honor.

Thanks. Morning, Georgia.

What's on the docket for today?

The Stratus matter.

Well, the defence counsel is apparently sick and his co-counsel was supposed to appear today in his place, but I received an email...

Georgia, just give me the highlights, dear.

I don't need to know how the sausage is made.

Co-counsel is requesting another continuance until the 23rd.

Georgia, I need to wrap things up.

Tell defence counsel to arise from his deathbed.

Either they materialize in my court today or I'll consider their defence rested and render my decision.

Next?

Welcome to Dixon City.

Now, with the Imam, you need to let me do the talking.

But I messed up. I should...

Daisy, please.

All right, all right.

Boy: Yo, what up, white folk! You with the church?

...do Bible study in church.

(Boys laughing)

(Knocking on door)

Oh my goodness.

Is that your natural hair color?

Oh man! Can I check?

Imam Mahadi.

Hello, Simon.

Imam, um, we're here to express our sorrow for the terrible mistake my paper's made.

That I made.

I'm Daisy Channing from The Gazette.

What are you talking about?

Boy: Are you from that paper?

Boy 2: They said you were dead, man.

Khaalif?

I ain't dead, man. I ain't dead.

Khaalif?

He can't be k*lled. He can't be hurt.

(Speaks in Somali) Allah Abdullah...

Why so much noise?

I'm okay, Mom. I'm here.

I'm good.

Oh... Oh... Oh...

I'm so sorry. I made a terrible mistake.

I don't understand.

Your son... Khaalid... was the victim.

No... no, you are wrong.

No... No, you are wrong.

I'm so sorry.

Oh no-no-no-no-no!

(Crying) Noooo!

(Shrieking) Nooooo!

Go! Go! Go!

It should be you!

Yo man!

No! It should be you! It should be you!

Just... leave me!

f*ck!

No! My baby!

(Shrieking) My baby!

(Wailing)

(Speaking Somali)

Daisy: I can see that Khaalid was very special.

We want to make sure everyone sees this too.

Can you tell us about Khaalid?

(Speaking Somali)

Khaalid never gave me any trouble.

(Speaking Somali)

He was a good boy.

(Speaking Somali)

He loved to draw, to paint.

(Speaking Somali)

He taught at the Dugsi, it's our Sunday school.

(Speaking Somali)

He loved teaching.

(Speaking Somali)

Write that down.

(Knock at door)

Thank you.

Please... go now.

All you had to do was spell his fricking name!

No, you don't get to put this on me!

You should do your job!

Okay, fine. I... screwed up.

Yes!

Am I interrupting something?

This is not gonna work. We need to talk, just not now.

(Phone buzzes)

Did you get the twenty on the brother?

Apparently you missed him, but the sister's available.

You'll never guess who owns a Mercedes.

(Beeping, loud rumbling)

(Phone rings)

Hold on. Yeah?

The detectives are here.

Oh, send them in.

Okay.

I'll call you back.

(Phone beeps off)

Mr. Lawson. Detective Lutz, Detective Ortiz.

Hello, detective. Nice meeting you.

Sir.

Nice meeting you.

Please, please sit down.

All right. So what is this about, detectives?

Mr. Lawson, do you know Hassan Ali?

Yes, I do. I employed him as a driver.

He's a, he's a good kid. Why?

Employed? As in past tense?

I hired him out of a crime prevention program that one of my companies helped fund.

He had a background of petty crimes and dr*gs, but he impressed me when he spoke about needing an opportunity.

I mean, everybody needs an opportunity, right?

So I gave him a sh*t.

So he works for you or not?

We had to fire him about a week ago.

He was, he was dealing dr*gs on my properties to my employees.

You file a report?

You know, it's heartbreaking.

These kids from the projects, sometimes you can get to them in time and... sometimes you just can't.

And no, we did not file a report.

So you said you fired him last week.

Did he turn in the vehicle?

Well, I assume so.

No, no, see actually he didn't.

One of your cars, a black Mercedes was seen speeding away from the scene of a homicide last night.

A homicide?

Did he do it?

All we can say is he's wanted for questioning in the m*rder of another young man, Khaalid Suleman.

Does that name mean anything to you, sir?

No, not at all. Sorry.

So, about the car. You... you didn't report it missing?

I have over 200 vehicles in my fleet, and uh, personally, I like the Bentley.

You know what, I will have Danete put you in touch with Hassan's supervisor.

Thank you.

If you have any information, if you need anything else, just get in touch anytime.

Will do.

Thank you.

(Retreating footsteps)

(Steam hisses)

(Sheet flaps)

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪

(Sobbing)

Hassan? Hassan!

Oh my God, Hassan, that's him!

(Pained grunts)

Hassan! Hassan!

No, no, no!

What happened?

Come. It's all right.

You're bleeding bad!

Let's get outta here.

Yo, Hassan, man, this sh*t's gone too far.

This wasn't supposed to happen!

But it did.

Khaalid is dead! What're we gonna do?!

Do? Do what we planned.

Agh! Agh!

Do you think I'm crazy? No way I'm taking that.

No way!

You're just gonna leave?!

Come back! Agh!

Follow me. Okay. Let's go.

(Pained moans)

Oh, baby. Baby, let's go.

It's okay. A little further.

(Pained groans)

Can you give that to me again please?

(Exhales)

Can you just give that to me one time, please? Thank you.

Hey. Yeah, I do understand.

Yes. Yes. Yeah, I do.

No. No-no-no, deputy.

With all due respect, if the chief is not at the announcement, I will personally crawl through this phone and choke you to death.

(Disgusted groan)

Thank you. Thank you.

Yes, the attorney general will remember this when he makes a recommendation for the next chief.

Uh, my left testicle would make a better chief.

Yes, yes, I understand that the justice minister supports the commission in principle, but if he doesn't show up...

Yeah, you know what I'm saying.

Yeah. Listen, I know that this can all be quite overwhelming.

I used to do your job too.

Just, just pause, take a deep breath, and exhale.

There you go.

Uh-huh. Uh-huh.

No, of course the minister will get a chance to speak.

He won't, he won't be just a prop...

And a photo opportunity, yes.

Thank you so much. See you then.

Not bad.

(Exhales)

After you.

Thank you.

(Low hum of chatter)

(Door clicks open)

I need a minute.

What?

He needs, he needs a minute.

(Sirens wail in the distance)

♪ ♪

Come in.

(Phone rings)

Our friend, the Chief, will be showing up.

Or else!

Oh, I think they know your style, Hardcastle.

Judge Reeves has been prepped and the Justice Minister will be in attendance.

Thank you.

(Sighs)

You know, I look at you all and I see how much you want to make a difference.

We all want to make a difference.

We read stories like this every day... and they go unsolved.

They're unsolved because people have lost faith... in the police, in government, in the country.

Now tomorrow, we announce a commission to investigate the police.

It could be my last political act.

(All chuckling)

But if we can restore faith in the police services, if we use all our talents, our gifts, our big brains...

If we do this right, that's the difference.

(All tapping)

Oh no.

Come on.

All right, let's go over the b*llet points.

(Traffic sounds)

Hassan, don't do this. Call me.

(Frustrated sighs, clicks phone off)

I didn't know you smoked.

I'm really bad at quitting sh*t.

You got an extra one?

Here you go.

Here, I'll trade you.

Figured out where I'd seen Khaalid before.

The guy was talented.

And you didn't see anything about a criminal record?

Not when I did the story.

Then the sh**ting was about Hassan.

Maybe. Maybe not.

Khaalid's brother, he runs the Mogadishu boys.

They've been warring with the 5PM on and off for years.

You're thinking Khaalid was targeted because of his brother?

Yup.

Lutz: We're looking for anything that shows a link between Hassan Ali and the m*rder of Khaalid Suleman.

So give me the precis.

We seek to search the residence of Mr. Ali.

Also any vehicle Mr. Ali owns or operates, including a Mercedes recently reported stolen by his former employer, Eric Lawson.

Fine. If everything's in order, I'll let you know in the morning.

Ah, Your Honor, we need to get a jump on the case.

Time's a factor.

Detective, I'm swamped right now.

I have to clear out of this office in a few days, and as you can imagine, there are more than a few loose ends.

With all due respect, Your Honor, Mr. Ali was fighting with the victim when the m*rder occurred.

He's out there now.

He's a flight risk.

All right. Leave it with me.

I'll... I'll find some time for it.

Thank you, Your Honor.

Thank you.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪

(Shuts screen)

(Whiny sigh)

(Cell phone buzzes)

Hassan?

Nope.

Let's just say you owe me some fine dinin'.

What have you got for me, Blade?

Hassan's address. 3200 Lakefront, Apartment 409.

And for this Herculean labor, dinner? My place?

This year, I promise. Thanks.

(Low hum of chatter, phones ringing)

(Pen rasps)

(Paper rips)

(Low hum of chatter, phones ringing)

♪ ♪

(Car rumbles)

(Phone buzzes)

Hey.

I have a huge favor to ask.

I just told Dad I have to bail.

I have a story to follow up on.

You always have something.

Yeah, but...

No.

I...

Tonight I need to be the one bailing for a change.

Okay. Fair enough. What's so important?

I have to work late.

Did you finally make a move?

Daisy...

(Chuckles) God forbid you tell him he's smokin'.

Daisy, I'm serious.

We have a ton of paper that has to go out for tomorrow's presser.

Sounds like my world.

Oh... sweetheart, I'm so sorry about all that stuff with your story.

I'm fine.

And I'll juggle some things.

You can be the slacker for a change.

(Chuckles) Thanks.

Love ya.

I love you too.

(Phone beeps off)

She still doesn't know about me?

Hmm.

I'm not a cliche.

I just think this has to be something before I share.

She's a journalist, you know.

Hmm...

(Doors unlock)

(Door opens, then shuts)

♪ ♪

(Door creaks open)

Hassan?

Are you here?

(Photo rustles)

(Traffic rumbles outside)

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪

(Purse thumps on floor)

(Whoosh)

(Clothes rustle)

(Gasps)

(Exhales)

Announcer: On the next sh**t the Messenger.

This is w*r!

And we are warriors!

[machine g*n fire]

We're initiating an independent commission to investigate instances of suspected police corruption and misconduct.

Announcer: sh**t the Messenger, next Monday at 9:00 on CBC.

Appa, that is such a messed up idea!

You messed up idea.

No, Appa, that is not...

You know!

What?

You what.

Stop doing that.

You stop.

So if I stop...

You show up, I stop.

[Janet screams in frustration]
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