Hill Street Blues, Season 3

Sister Agnes:
I saw the things they did to her body. It will be a hard memory to live with, but I know Sister Anna has already forgiven them.

Furillo:
I wish I could.

Eddie:
I thought about what you said about degrading myself. No more bus station men's room for Eddie Gregg.

Belker:
Atta boy.

Eddie:
I'm going to work the men's room at the Hotel Excelsior!

Bernstein:
Are you kidding? Frank, there's a lynch mob out there.

Furillo:
I know there's a lynch mob out there. I think I can use it.

Joyce:
There's nothing worse than a gloating Italian.

Eddie:
My grandmother was senile. She had so much fun on her birthday. She'd open her present, and drift off, then look back down and see her present, and then she'd be happy all over again.

Mick:
That's what my father does with his breakfast cereal.

Esterhaus:
In light of the continuing and deplorable armed robberies of local ice cream vendors this past month, detectives Belker and Goldblume will undertake a second day of undercover assignment as D K E Tano ice cream drivers.

Hill:
Nobody's going to buy ice cream from Belker!

Washington:
Look, baby, I know you went to a lot of trouble to line up this opportunity, but I guess I'm just kind of attached to this town, you know?

LaRue:
Oh-h-h-h, me too! Hey, don't get me wrong. Hell, I love junkies getting sick on my shoes twice a week, I get off on transvestites' dried blood, people lunging at me with barbecue forks…oh, yeah…this town? Regular joy machine!

Belker:
I got a serious problem.

Davenport:
Legal?

Belker:
No. I forgot it's my mother's birthday today. I haven't gotten her a present yet, and I'm supposed to be there at 6:30.

Davenport:
I'm sure she'll understand if you get her a present tomorrow.

Belker:
No, she won't understand, Miss Davenport. You don't know my mother.

Davenport:
What did you have in mind?

Belker:
Suicide.

Furillo:
How could you just quit?

Fay:
Well, I figured I didn't have much of a choice when he called me into his office and stood up behind his desk, naked from the waist down!

Miss Fowler:
Is there any particular reason you'd like to leave your present position?

LaRue:
[chuckling] Excuse me, but you're asking me why, after twelve years in one of the worst urban wastelands in this country, I'd risk a substantial raise in salary to work in the Bahamas?

Miss Fowler:
Your point is well made.

Belker:
I'm supposed to spend four whole days giving some Hollywood dirt bag some girl scout tour of this precinct?

Furillo:
Precisely.

Belker:
[walks out into hallway to greet his Hollywood charge] C'mon, spittoon face.

Coffey:
Look, Mr. Smith, we've come to get your telephone. Can you just tell us where it is?

Smith:
You'll never find it! I-I dropped it in a time warp… between 1771 and 44 A.D.

Belker:
Look, hairball, I'll tell you this: I got stuff that took me two weeks to set up. Tomorrow you find yourself a new babysitter.

Washington:
[holding up a bag of drugs] Oh, man, look at all this powdered sugar! What were you doing, my man, making a cake?

Smith:
I get a phone call, don't I?

Bates:
One ten-cent call. That's it.

Coffey:
And no intergalactic area codes, okay?

Furillo:
A lot of people have soiled themselves in doing what they thought was right!

Hill:
[to Renko] You're not getting' older. You're getting' downright maudlin.

Cheryl:
Excuse me, officer.

Renko:
What?

Cheryl:
I'd like to report a misdemeanor.

Renko:
You talking to me?

Cheryl:
Aside from your partner, I don't see any other uniforms in here.

Renko:
Well, I guess you're right. Uh, ma'am, what is the nature of the complaint?

Cheryl:
How about "breach of contract" for starters. My lunch date's a no-show.

Renko:
[smiles] Well, I'd call that a major felony, ma'am. [looks her up and down]. Judging by your appearances, I'd say the suspect has a major chance of acquittal through temporary insanity.

Howard:
Frank, my life is an unfired shot. No wife, no children, no one to give my love to.

Goldblume:
Don't worry, Fay. Running away from home is as American as apple pie.

Fay:
Is he here? Please tell me he's here!

Furillo:
Who?

Fay:
Frank, junior. He's missing!

Furillo:
What do you mean "missing"?

Fay:
We had a fight at breakfast. See, he wanted to go camping next weekend with the Benjamins and I told him he couldn't, and he stormed out of the house in a kind of Mediterranean rage he could have only inherited from- [stops short]

Arrestee:
Not bad, honkey. Want me to frisk her for you?

Renko:
What I would like you to do is to shut your face before I relocate it for you in the vicinity of your butt.

Teresa:
Nice place you got here.

LaRue:
I'm tellin' ya man, it's a miscarriage of justice putting that little bozo in a massage parlor. Belker wouldn't know a good massage if it came up and bit him. Matter of fact, that is Belker's idea of a good massage.

Talkative Arrestee:
You see, that license don't mutilate for two more years.

Nurse Wolfowitz:
Howard! Don't you put your pants on! We were discussing phone calls!

Nurse Wolfowitz:
Do you want us to see each other?

Howard:
I do! I - I am such a fumble tongue. You know, I'm very articulate in command.

Nurse Wolfowitz:
Give me an order, Lieutenant.

Howard:
Kiss me, Nurse Wolfowitz.

Nurse Wolfowitz:
Howard… [she kisses him]

Fay:
I am a journalist, not a-a ghoul!

Furillo:
Anything wrong?

Fay:
[after a wino threw up on her] My best pair of boots just got saluted by one of your wine stewards!

Fay:
[describing the people who burglarized her house] You see, they not only took things, they also left something. A small token of their esteem! In the living room…on the rug!

Councilman Detweiler:
I am going to bury you and your chief deeper than we just planted that piece of dirt back there [gesturing towards Maizel's gravesite].

Eddie:
Mick, this handsome, middle-aged man asked me for a match. I said, "How about you and me?" What can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic.

Hunter:
Linda, may I speak freely?

Linda:
I wish you would.

Hunter:
Since meeting you I've realized that there has been a part of my life that has been AWOL for longer than I care to admit. It's time I checked out of the POQ and went TDY. I long for the kitschy detail of little feet marching.

Linda:
Are you reenlisting?

Hunter:
I want to make an honest woman out of you. I want you to be my wife.

Linda:
Oh-oh, my darling Howard! I love you so! [they begin passionately embracing and kissing]

Hunter:
Then it's "yes"?

Linda:
No.

Hunter:
I was wondering if I could ask you a direct, personal question.

Goldblume:
Sure, fire away.

Hunter:
What is it like being a Hebrew?

Chief Daniels:
We're not talking dog, Frank. We're talking image! And like it or not, this over-bred lapdog has a higher gubernatorial profile than the state bird, whatever the hell it is.

Goldblume:
Uh, swallow, sir.

Furillo:
Whatever happened to serious journalism?

Davenport:
It died years ago, Furillo, at the hands of a blow dryer.

Eddie:
[picks up video tape from Mick's desk] Oh my, Michael. "Gentlemen Prefer Leather"?

Belker:
It's evidence, you Hairball.

Renko:
I'm already integrated.

Hill:
That's right...I'm your daddy!

Howard:
[after the dog urinates on him] Damn foreign breed! Give me a Shepherd any day!

Eddie:
I have no place to go. I was wondering, uh, if I could stay with you.

Belker:
Are you nuts? Absolutely not. [relents] Okay, but just this one time.

Eddie:
Oh, thank you, Mick! I'll make you a breakfast fit for a king!

Belker:
You make me breakfast, I'll ram it down your throat.

Eddie:
You're such a treasure!

Grace:
[to Phil] There's still frontiers of passion we need to penetrate!

Howard:
Tell me, Henry, what do Jews do at Christmas?

Goldblume:
I don't know, Howard. Go to Miami?

Belker:
You sure you don't want to go get some dinner?

Tattaglia:
Jews and Italians…you're going to eat your way through grief!

Furillo:
[referring to being ill from the bad Chinese] If I die, promise me you'll sue?

Davenport:
Count on it.

Renko:
[referring to the line outside the men's room after everyone ate Gung Ho's Chinese] The Mayflower's on the high seas, and all of her crew's come down with scurvy!

Howard:
We are the dentists of society, Henry, fighting a losing battle of urban decay!

Coffey:
You know how Houdini died? Getting punched when he wasn't ready!

Bates:
Yeah, well you need to work on your disappearing act!

Furillo:
And if you get the job?

Davenport:
I won't make any decision without talking to you, Pizza Man. Anyway, I probably won't get it.

Furillo:
You probably will.

Survivalist Detainee:
You. You're the first.

Davenport:
First what?

Survivalist Detainee:
The first of fifty women destined to perpetuate the species and save civilization as we know it.

Survivalist Detainee:
I need fifty good women!

Coffey:
Don't we all.

Howard:
[to Furillo] It seems to this old warhorse that all your starch is in your shirt!

Howard:
[in a megaphone to the minorities on Decker Avenue] Your activities on this block from henceforth will be monitored with the scrupulousness that Othello brought to bear on Desdemona. You will be wearing our attention like a pair of stolen jeans!

Esterhaus:
Well, it appears that a pair of our detectives were involved in a bit of street theater… their thespian exuberance got somewhat carried away.

Furillo:
Our detectives?

Esterhaus:
Yes, John LaRue shot Neal Washington.

Fay:
Contrary to what you think, when it's called for, I am perfectly capable of self-restraint!

Coffey:
[on Renko's moped] Renko, did you put your Harley in the dryer again?

Howard:
[seeing the tank roll down the block] Totally unauthorized, of course…but the sight of that heavy metal still sends a shiver up the ol' bowels!

Fay:
[to her judge boyfriend, after he ditches her for someone else] Why settle for second-hand polyester when you can have virgin wool?

Schnitz:
[seeing Ray in his toupee for the first time] That was the lieutenant, wasn't it?

Howard:
I believe so, Schnitz. Either that, or an overly familiar tango instructor.

Hill:
You've got several hundred dollars worth of parking tickets in there!

Vic:
Well, I'll be darned! You can have the whole lot for $29.95.

Belker:
Home address?

Freddie:
We got us a room down on Decker. There ain't no address on account they tore it down when they condemned the building.

Vic:
You know what I did once? I yelled "fire" at a urologist convention. That's dangerous!

Vic:
Do you ever try a little humor in your work?

Renko:
Do you ever try paying your parking tickets?

Vic:
Once. It cost me some money.

Ray:
I am jealous. I'm jealous, I am ambitious, and I am afraid.

Goldblume:
Welcome to the human race, Ray.

Howard:
[after Leo gives money to a drug addict to get the precinct's breakfast] Leo, did I just see you assign that single-helixed mutoid to today's breakfast run?

Schnitz:
Yeah, I figured a little responsibility might help.

Howard:
Judas H. on horseback! Don't you know that once he is on the street, that money goes directly to rearranging the molecular chemistry of his cerebellum?

Robin:
You're doing it again, Mick. You're being a Jewish mother! I'm going to ignore it.

Vic:
Listen, I picked up a chick at lunch today. Has the gall to tell me that I'm a lousy lover. I tell her, "Sweetheart, don't be ridiculous. You can't decide something like that in two minutes."

Washington:
[to LaRue after he watches him come on to Kristie, the high-schooler] I'm just going to say three words to you baby: "statu-atory rape."

Mrs. Schnitz:
[after finding out that Leo invested their money in a dried up comic] I hope you enjoy this, Leo! I hope this is worth a life without sex!

Bates:
Did you get the results?

Coffey:
Of what, the lie detector test?

Bates:
No, your pap smear, Joe.

Punk:
What are you, my mother?

Bates:
Do I look like a test tube?

Furillo:
[on their wedding night] You think I could get a kiss, Mrs. Furillo?

Davenport:
The name's Davenport.

Furillo:
[surprised, but calm] I can live with that.

Benedetto:
Look, Country. I got some work to do here. I don't want to be worrying about my back.

Renko:
Don't worry about your back, pal. Worry about your personality.

Furillo:
I know what you did to Officer Renko, Lieutenant, and I know what Officer Hill did to you.

Benedetto:
Yeah, well, everything's okay. I squared with both of them.

Furillo:
That's not the point. If you'd been on my roster you'd have been out the next day. We don't have any "wild wests" show up here and we don't have any freelancers. You operate under this precinct you're gonna clear procedure and you're going to go by the book. Understood?

Benedetto:
Gotcha.

Furillo:
That's the "B" answer. The "A" answer is "Yes, Captain!"

Furillo:
[about Faye meeting with Joyce] Maybe just the two of you. You're going to have to get together and come to terms sooner or later.

Faye:
Okay! She can call me! I'm in the book!…Under "Furillo…"

Washington:
LaRue's got a couple of rough edges, so what?

Benedetto:
I know guys in midtown who take his career bio for light reading in the john…you take away the rough edges and all you got is a Rolex and a cheap pair of loafers.

LaRue:
[presenting a cow's heart, which he tries to pass of as Buddy Gannett's, for the bet] Hey, Benedetto. Check it out. I don't know too much about anatomy, gentlemen, but that sure looks like a heart to me.

Benedetto:
Lame, LaRue, no sale.

LaRue:
Hey, whoa whoa…what are you talking about? We don't dig bookies that welch up here! That's Buddy Gannett's ticker!

Benedetto:
Yeah? And where's his udder?

LaRue:
What's he mean?

Washington:
I think the man means, he believes that's a cow's heart, J.D.

LaRue:
Bull.

Benedetto:
Could be.

LaRue:
[about Benedetto] The guy's a snail, Neal! He leaves a trail of slime wherever he goes!

Benedetto:
Let a broad find out she can get away with busting your chops and it's "goodnight nurse."

Howard:
One might argue that a DJ and a junkie are not worlds apart on the evolutionary ladder.

Belker:
[watching lustily after the chicken heart LaRue picks up from the butcher] What are you going to do with it, LaRue? I mean, after you're finished snookering Benedetto?

LaRue:
What do you mean, "what am I going to do with it?"

Belker:
Best thing is to boil it. And you grind it into a pate, you stuff blintzes in it…I'm telling you, you never tasted anything so good!

LaRue:
What, do I look like some kind of urban cannibal here? That's Buddy Gennett's heart - a human being!

LaRue:
[to Benedetto] You almost got my partner killed, you fat grease ball! We got a date coming! You put it on the calendar!

Davenport:
I, uh, thought we might have lunch today.

Furillo:
You're on.

Davenport:
How's noon?

Furillo:
I'll make a reservation at the Galley.

Davenport:
I was thinking more about room service.

Fay:
You know there are fathers, and then there are fathers. As it stands right now, my little girl isn't going to have any kind of father at all.

Esterhaus:
Fay.

Fay:
I'd consider it an honor if you'd be her godfather. I mean if you could be there for her when she needs someone to look up to. 'Cause I gotta tell you honestly, I can't think of another man in the world I would prefer her looking up to than you, Mr. Philip Freemason Esterhaus.

Howard:
My sun is rising considerably further to the east these days, Henry.

Goldblume:
Buffalo?

Furillo:
She's Vietnamese.

Goldblume:
No kidding? Where'd you meet her?

Howard:
Uh, at my Confucian studies seminar. I have bursitis.

LaRue:
[egging on Benedetto, who is threatening suicide] C'mon, Benedetto! Do the right thing and pull the trigger!

Lt. Hunter:
Keenly interested as I am in the opinion of coffee-shop help, madam, I must nonetheless insist that you exchange this brûlée grotesque for one medium rare. In addition to which, you will henceforth address me as "Lieutenant."

Waitress:
Forget it, honey.

Lt. Hunter:
Take it back, you impertinent scullery maid! Take it back, I say!

Waitress:
Don’t you bark at me, buster. I’ve been serving you the same slop five days a week for four years running, and the most you ever left me was a quarter!

Lt. Hunter:
Perhaps if you did your job properly, you’d be compensated properly! Why, in Saudi Arabia, you’d be physically maimed for this sort of malfeasance!

Waitress:
You don't get squat from me, you two-bit Nazi!

La Rue:
Once upon a time there was a down-and-out property clerk named Iggy Mursky. Poor Iggy. Fourteen years in the Midtown property cage and all he’s holdin’ is sixteen and a half G’s a year, zero career promos, house and car payments that leave him about eight bucks a week walkin’ around money, and an old lady buggin’ him for cable TV.

Iggy:
Leave my family out of this.

Belker:
Shh!

La Rue:
Poor Iggy! All he’s got to look forward to is a two-bit pension and a first-rate mid-life crisis. Till one day—everything changes! A heavy soda bust.

Belker:
Very heavy.

La Rue:
Twenty pounds of Peruvian flake is stashed in an airline travel bag in Iggy’s property room. Now let’s give Iggy the benefit of the doubt. ‘Kay, let’s say he’s mindin’ his own business. He’s got his nose buried in the morning sports, he’s having his Danish and coffee, when hark! And behold! He hears a voice! Psst! Iiiiiggy! What is that? Iggy wonders. Hey! Dummy! Over here! It’s me! The bag!

Iggy:
This guy needs professional help.

La Rue:
I’m a poc-ket-ful of dreams, Iggy. Pure Peruvian flake worth four hundred G’s on the open market! Now this is a fairy tale, huh? Let’s say Iggy fights it off. I mean, ‘cause you didn’t offer us a bribe before, right, Iggy? You ain’t that kind of guy. Iiiiigggy! Listen to me! They’ll never need me for evidence! Hey, they’ll plea-bargain my case—it’ll never come to trial. Stuff me full of baking soda, Iggy! Sell off the coke! Live it up for a change! Beaches! Mai tais with them little funny umbrellas. I’m your one chance for happiness, Iggy. Go for it!

Iggy:
Come on, cut it out.

La Rue:
Only trouble is, Iggy, they don’t plea-bargain the case. They set a date for the preliminary hearing. Now you’re gettin’ real nervous. Then Washington and Benedetto need some scenery for a bust. They check the bag out. It’s perfect, Iggy. It’s your out. You tip Simone off, to queer the bust. You hire that scuzzbag Jimmy Fermento to take down the cops and nobody’ll ever know you made the switch. Except we pop your boy Jimmy. He’s a nickel hooker. He gives you up in about a minute and a half. That was my partner you had hit, you little creep, my partner. Two inches lower, he’d be dead now.

Iggy:
I didn’t have anybody hit. God, what do you think I am?

La Rue:
I think you’re a slug who better make his best deal right now.

Iggy:
You act like I’m some—some mastermind. Like I’m a big cheese. I got three lousy grand. It was all Benedetto.

La Rue:
Benedetto?

Iggy:
He figured out the whole thing, from the start. Benedetto.