Man 1: Help you?
Kelso: How may guys you got working here, pop?
Man 1: Whose asking, son?
Kelso: It could be official or unofficial, depends on how you want to play it.
Man 1: You should get to a hospital, son. That arm of yours appears to be letting in daylight.
Kelso: Save the pity for the other guys. They're the ones who need it. I'm looking for a big cowboy who works pest control. Does he work here?
Man 1: We don't have anyone like that here.
Kelso: You sure? I'm not the type of guy you want coming back.
Man 1: Yeah, I'm sure.
Phelps: What have you got?
Patrolman: Looks like a drug overdose.
Earle: Get away from him, Phelps. This is my case.
Phelps: Shut your fucking mouth. Since when does a bag man work a case?
Earle: I knew this creep was in on the morphine heist. A victim of his own product.
Patrolman: Hey, Detective. Can we back it off a notch? This is getting out of hand.
Biggs: There's a time to talk and a time to shut up. Now is the time to be quiet, son.
Phelps: Courtney Sheldon was a corpsman, Roy. He served his country. He went out with a medical kit and an Army .45 into places that made the Valley of Death look like a picnic. He was either naive enough or dumb enough to get involved in the Suburban Redevelopment Fund along with the mayor, the DA, Monroe, and a certain crooked cop.
He was involved in the morphine heist, but he has a puncture wound in his jugular, which makes this a murder case. He was a better man than you'll ever know. You say one more word about him, and I will blow your fucking head off.
Earle: You finally lost it, partner.
Phelps: I have a pretty good idea why Sheldon is dead, and I know about Monroe. Your vast corrupt future is draining away as we speak.
Earle: I've got better things to do than argue the rub with you.
Phelps: Stay with him until the coroner gets here. Make sure Technical Services bags the evidence. If you let this creep anywhere near it, I'll come looking for you.
Patrolman: Yes, sir.
Biggs: You know, Phelps, you're not the worst asshole going around.
Phelps: Thanks, Herschel.
Man 2: Welcome to Nuclear. What can I do you for?
Kelso: I work for the DA. I need to speak with an exterminator, big guy with a cowboy accent.
Man 2: We have only three people who work here. Me and two Mexicans. They're both on the scrawny side.
Kelso: Thanks for your help.
I work for the DA. I'm looking for a big cowboy who does extermination. Anyone like that working here?
Man 3: Well, I wouldn't want to get anyone into any trouble.
Kelso: We could do this the hard way. An address?
Man 3: Yeah. He lives in a bunkhouse on the remains of the old Rancho Rincon.