Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

-Armor-piercing bullets? Jesus. -Yeah, cop killers.
-What? -l know that kid.
That's why Internal Affairs is on this. They think it's an inside job.
-You wanna go for a ride? -Sure, where we going?
-Come on, come on, check it out. Beautiful lawn.
Wearing a girdle, man.
Get rid of Murphy, now!
-What's Internal Affairs doing here? -Don't start. I just found out myself.
Hey, word Riggs
-Make friends? -Yeah.
You'll be needing these.
See how quiet it is here? Listen, listen.
-That's why l'm numb, huh? -That's why you're numb.
Central, keep me in touch with motorcycle pursuit.
-Let's check it out. -Let's go.
There is no bomb.
-How can you be so sure? -Oh, it's just a hunch.
Hey, did you do this?
Son of a bitch. I'm gonna cut him off at the--
You're a very poor loser.
In the car. Get them up there. Let me see both of them. Come on!
Riggs, talk to me. Riggs.
Gently coax the flavors out.
-Relax. They'll be there when you get out. I'm fine.
-Hey. -What's that?
-You and l have to talk. -Talking to you is bad for my image.
-She has a gift. Watch this. -A gift?
- Your insurance paid up? - Yeah, of course. Why?
-Why? Tell me why. -l can't tell you.
- There could be a bomb in here. - Oh, God.
Drunk at noon, bullet in the brain by evening. Well, not for this kid.
I did take it to Chin over in Alpine. Look at it. It's shrunk all up in here.
-He's got a girdle! -This is not a girdle.
-You meet my partner? -No.
-Hey, you can't get closer? -l am. l'm getting closer.
-Hey, hey, hey. Just take it easy, man. Okay.
Time, 5:1 5.
Wazzupguys you selfish bastard!
Hey, did Rianne get her job back? Did she get a raise? Did she?
- You do? It's been completely replaced. - Oh, why was that?
Hey, Riggs.
A dumdum wound can be serious.
...and, uh, when I try and lick my balls, I keep falling off the couch.
-Know where that is? -Sure. Been there a lot.
-l don't care! -You do so care!
I didn't lose, Riggs.
-lt's not gonna keep anything out. -Gonna keep my stomach in.
Call an ambulance. Riggs, call an ambulance. Breathe.
I'm out of business without ammo.
-Have you evacuated the building? -lt's clean.
Forget school.
Riggs.
No brains, but they got automatic weapons.
Hey, hey! -Hold on! Hold on! We got you.
-They make girdles for men? -They make girdles for men.
-Wanna see? Here's my pass. -l do.
-Hold the hair. -Heh, heh.
They're gone. Leo Getz, I guess I'm gonna kill him.
"The good stuff." Jesus. Pfft!
Take your mama to the car.
Stay, stay.
Ow!
-Let's go. Let's go. Watch.
-Here's your target. All right? -Okay.
I can get faster results than that real-estate broker.
-Sergeant Cole. -Hey, how are you? Leo Getz.
-Who is that guy? lt's a long story.
Uh, probably by the glass. Around the glass.
Why don't we spread out?
-You hit me. -Cool it, will you?
Really good work.
Pension.
-What dog-biscuit problem? -l've been chasing more cars lately...
Drop it, miss.
Riggs! Get up! Get up, Riggs! Get up! Get up!
-All you perverts, turn your heads. Take it off.
-That's closer than you ever got. -Close, Riggs?
-Okay? l love it. That it? That say it all? Oh, yeah.
-Right? Right? -Right!
-You motherfucker. -Don't be stupid.
Bullets aren't covered in normal road hazard. That's why.
-Moving bullet. -Moving bullet?
-Morning, guys. Daddy. Hey.
Goddamn you, Travis. Fuck.
-Stay where you are. -Smart son of a bitch.
Los Angeles, shorthanded goal.
Your involvement in this case ended when Billy Phelps hit the floor.
They fuck you in the hospital! First they drug you, then they fuck you.
Stop! Hold it!
Who? -Lieutenant Jack Edward Travis.
-Word, Nick. -Word, Dad.
Stupid. Take a right. No, left!
-Why me? You guys should be wearing. -Mr. Murtaugh, let me assist you.
-Hey. Hey, hey, hey, Riggs. -What?
-You lost. -l conceded.
-l need the good stuff. -You'll get the ammo. The good stuff.
-Full of guns. Grab one.
Clip any wrong wires lately? -No, I haven't done that for a couple days.
But, um, Dad, l want you to know that I'm behind you all the way.
Where's Sergeant Murtaugh?
-You must have heard of it. -l'm a cop. l'm the law.
They got my guns. They'll be coming after me next.
-She's lnfernal Affairs, Rog. How'd you know?
Mind and body strong now, grasshopper.
I mean, if Trish finds out about it-- I didn't-- I didn't--
I thought I could. l wanted to.
-Oh, come on. -Get off my boat.
How you doing? Taking your vitamins?
You know, maybe some peroxide. I can patch it up myself.
I can't belie-- l can't believe you did that.
I know. I'm sorry, son.
He's dead, Rog. Rog, he's dead.
Termites get-- Okay, okay. No more!
Where is the pursuit?
Sergeant Cole from Traffic?
Son of a bitch, just look at it.
Stacy
Hey. You know l love you.
And when they're done...
-No! This is a film. There are not-- -What?
I don't care. You can't be on the ice.
Ah, we ain't seen nothing yet, though, Rog.
Not likely.
- Something's wrong here. - What?
Those bullets came from the gun of a suspect we arrested yesterday.
You could be experiencing some transitional anger caused by the shooting.
Cover me. Cover me.