Psych

Dad?

Yes, Carlton?

There's something I gotta know,

and I don't want you to spare my feelings.

I can handle the truth.

Okay, son. You have my word.

What's on your mind?

When I grow up, will I be able to grow a beard like that?

You're a Lassiter, and Lassiter men have been

growing legendary face wigs for generations.

It's a king's beard born in your blood,

perfected through centuries.

But never forget, it's not the beard that makes the king.

I know, I know. It's the queen.

That's right, son.

We're almost there.

Dad?

Dad?

Dad, where are you?

Don't leave me!

Dad!

This is Chief Lassiter.

Shots fired.

I'm down.

I have been ambushed and shot multiple times.

I need backup... immediately.

Hold it.

Please, I have a family.

Carlton, do you even remember why you're here?

Think, son. Think.

We have an officer down. All units respond.

2016 Arkenstone Road. Situation critical.

Suspect still at large. Approach with extreme caution.

Both: Surprise!

- Ah! - Surprise, surprise!

What is wrong with you two?

Check it out.

- What is that? - That is a gift for you.

Meet Morrissey the rescue dog,

here to rescue you from your own handsomeness.

- That dog's Chief Vick's. - He was.

He kept biting her daughter.

Affection gnawing is what the vet called it.

He called it rabies, Shawn.

Either way, the Chief, Gus, and I have come

to a little agreement.

She set him loose in my office

and sped away in her car.

Then you called us to come down here

and the whole thing just felt like a win-win.

That dog is eating my foot.

- Morrissey! - Stop it.

- Psst. - Stop it.

- Fsst. - Stop it.

Excuse me, Carlton, I didn't realize

you had visitors.

Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa. Sorry, no pets.

Pets? I'm sorry, I...

Oh! That's Morrissey.

He's a therapy dog.

Does he have a vest?

He does, though, he prefers to call it a "waistcoat."

I think you'll find it all checks out.

Hmm.

This an old Theraflu T-shirt

with tape over the "flu" and "py" in Sharpie.

You're good.

One point for you, Dolores.

My name is Shawn Spencer

and this is my partner Bill Poopingtons.

No. Shawn?

- What? - Sidebar.

All right.

Carlton, what is happening right now?

- Let it go. - Yes.

Bill Poopingtons. What kind of nickname is that?

Transylvania Dutch. Why?

No, Shawn.

No more embarrassing nicknames,

especially in front of peers and professionals.

Gus, don't be the night

your dad fell asleep inside your mom.

We can't just stop doing bits

we've been doing for ten years.

We have fans; They have expectations.

There'll be a huge backlash.

Shawn, we are two dumbasses. We do not have fans.

From now on, I do the nicknames.

No, no, no. Absolutely not.

That's disgusting.

Counterproposal: You have right of refusal

until we land on one you like.

It's a Band-Aid, but okay for now.

I'm terribly sorry, Dolores.

What I meant to say was, my name is Shawn Spencer

and this is my full-fledged partner All-The-Pips-In-One.

Accepted. Hello.

Could you fellas take a little walk with me?

Hmm.

Lassie, is that what I think it is?

Guys, I love animals, but I'm sure you know

what a prestigious place the Herschel House is.

We do, but let me just say, although the dog

is not fully certified and ate one of the two gas pedals

in our car on the way down here...

Two what?

We had hoped that this visit alone would

start to help Carlton heal his tangled memories.

He's a tough man with the thick skin

of a northern white rhino,

but the heart of a smaller, less-white rhino.

I know, and you're right, um...

It's Burton, but you can call me Jermajesty

or whatever you'd like, Dolores.

Well, Jermajesty, I am gonna kick myself

for falling prey to a dapper, smooth-talking,

devil's food cookie with a perfect cranium,

but I'll make the exception.

"Dapper" and "smooth-talking,"

that doesn't sound right.

Mr. Wilkerson, beautiful day.

Okay, dog stays, but he's on a very short leash.

Short leash.

And, in exchange, you guys can tell me why

you're really here.

- Damn, she's good. - Yeah.

All right, Lassie called us last night.

He's seeing things.

- Ghosts. - Not necessarily ghosts.

But probably ghosts.

But there's a lot of strange stuff

going on around here:

Eerie voices in pipes, bodies being dragged

out into the woods at night, black Jell-O.

We're checking to see if this joint was built

on an Indian burial ground.

Uh, it was built on an old Kmart,

and he's never mentioned a word of this to me.

That's because he doesn't want anyone to know.

We've sworn silence.

Shawn can't tell his wife.

My girlfriend thinks I'm working a double shift.

I can't even take her calls.

Well, you can't take her calls,

that changes all of your emojis

into little Jamaicans.

- Seventeen viruses. - I see.

- So you have a girlfriend? - I do.

Dolores, I'm gonna be honest with you.

I only said "black Jell-O" because that was Gus' nickname

in our adult dodgeball league.

Mm.

And Lassie's terrified that he's going crazy.

Anyone finds out, it could cost him his job,

his dignity, maybe even his family.

Carlton doesn't even remember why he went

to that abandoned building.

His only recollection of his shooter is a silhouette,

he's on nine different medications,

and as you both know, he suffered a massive stroke

during surgery.

So of course he's seeing things,

but feeding into these fantasies

is the least helpful thing you can do right now, okay?

Now, I know this goofy little white guy,

sexy black dude routine the two of you have going

like the back of my scrubs.

But you really wanna help?

Just be the grown men that you are.

Okay, what is going on here?

What, Dolores?

The nurse from "Color of Night"

fawning all over you.

I don't know, maybe she's attractive,

but, Shawn, I'm with Selene now.

I can't keep track of every shorty

that wants what they can't have.

Where the hell have you two been?

Sorry, Lassie.

We were on our way up the stairs

when Gus spotted a Jamba right across the street.

We made it happen. Where's the dog?

He jumped out the window

the second you walked out the door,

took my Jell-O, and ran straight into the woods.

That makes sense.

He is a hunter-gatherer of the highest order.

That wasn't the last Jell-O, though, was it?

Doesn't matter. We don't need the dog.

Lassie, I'm gonna cut to the chase.

It's gonna be a hard pass for us.

We simply cannot keep lying to our ladies

to cover up your spooky ghost sightings, okay?

It's too hard. They know each other.

We're grown men with real pubes.

Let me give you a visual.

You remember Eddie Murphy's mustache in "Raw"?

Well, that's what Gus has going on right over the twig.

Now look, whatever you think you're seeing, it's up here.

You've been through a lot and hospitals are creepy,