Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Yeah. The way we just punked them, they got to.

I need to do a case.

Would we be police if we could?

Sync'd by Mothman

Go on, go home.

We're rolling out there. I can't hand this shit off fast enough.

-Boy needed to get schooled. -What are you, some kind of badass now?

It's looking your kid in the eye that's the hard part.

Frappuccino? What the fuck is that?

"Robert Johnson." You believe that?

I'd truck his ass, if it was me.

When I get home at night, I just wanna watch a ball game or something.

-Take us up. -Son of a bitch! God damn it!

I need McNulty on this detail.

That's right. Keep walking, bitch.

to some backwards-ass, no-count, out-in-the-districts...

She says it's on the computer when my account comes on:

-Nothing on the docks. -No one we can buy weight with.

Thanks, Lieutenant.

-Not now, Gus. I'm good. -Whatever you say, Jimmy.

That's the Greek? That old guy? I seen him in here before.

Proposition Joe Stewart, and "White Mike" McArdle...

That's fine. But now we're going to have to open the warehouse again.

-Took it while you was resting. -Y'all too late.

The shipbuilders' local goes belly-up, and that makes you some kind of martyr?

where we tracked the suspect container.

Just give me a minute.

The chairman, he thought you'd be right for it, is all.

Do it. You're still here?

Them things got lice.

-Surveillance? -That got us to the front door...

10-4. Come home.

Get back to your office.

Thanks for the beer.

Meantime, I hear that our regular port cop, the one that found your girls...

Truck him with your best punch and then just walk the fuck away.

And don't give me that he's-got-that-fire- in-the-belly garbage, either.

Putting two and two together, and coming up with six, maybe.

If I'm no good for....

-Excuse me. -Hey, pal.