Psych 2: Lassie Come Home

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. 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 am down.

I have been ambushed and shot. Multiple times.

I need back-up. 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.

I think it's a...

Situation critical. Suspect still at large.

Approach with extreme caution.

- 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 is 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.

Excuse me. Carlton, I didn't realize you had visitors.

Sorry. No pets.

Pets? I'm sorry, I...

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.

This is an old Theraflu t-shirt...

with tape over the "flu" and "P-Y" in Sharpie.

You're good. One point for you, Delores.

My name is Shawn Spencer, and this is my partner, Bill Poopingtons.

- No. Shawn? Sidebar. - What? Alright.

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.

You can't just stop doing bits we've been doing for ten years.

We have fans. They have expectations. There will be a huge backlash.

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

From now on, I do the nicknames.

No. Absolutely not. That's disgusting.

Counter-proposal.

You have right of refusal until we land on one you like.

It's a band-aid, but okay. For now.

- Sure. - I'm terribly sorry, Delores.

What I meant to say was... My name is Shawn Spencer.

This is my full-fledged partner, "All-The-Pips-In-One".

- Accepted. Hello. - Alright.

Could you fellas take a little walk with me?

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 memory.

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.

It's Burton. But...

you can call me "Your Majesty" or whatever you'd like. Delores.

Your Majesty, 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? Smooth talking? That doesn't sound right.

Mr. Wilkerson, beautiful day.

Okay. Dog stays. But he's on a very short leash.

And in exchange, you guys can tell me why you're really here.

- Damn, she's good. Alright. - Yeah.

Lassie called us last night. He's seeing things.

- Ghosts. But probably ghosts. - Not necessarily ghosts.

Look, 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 Jello... - We're checking to see...

if this joint was built on an Indian Burial ground.

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.

You can't take her calls because you downloaded a rogue app...

that changes all of your emojis into little Jamaicans.

Seventeen viruses.

- I see. So, you have a girlfriend. - I do.

Delores, I'm gonna be honest with you.

I only said black Jello...

because that was Gus' nickname in our adult dodgeball league.

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 want to help? Just be the grown men that you are.

Okay, what is going on here?

What? Delores?

Yeah, 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 Jello, ran straight into the woods.

That makes sense.

He is a hunter-gatherer of the highest order.

That wasn't the last Jello, 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?

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, even super luxurious ones.

Trust me on this, man. You're just really high.

High.

Shawn? What's in that dog's mouth?

Gus, please.

It is nothing more than a human hand.

Oh my god. It's...

It's a human hand, and it's covered in leaves and moss...

and it's human and it is a hand.

I'm gonna have to call my wife.

I'm gonna have to lie again.

Lassie, we're in.

Of course you're in, you morons. There's a hand in your hand.

Go ahead, Gus. "Knuck" it up softly.

Get that dead hand away from me, Shawn.

Shawn, I don't like this.

Gus, you heard Lassie.

We need to get this hand to Woody ASAP.

If it's ASAP, why did we stop first at Pokey Jack's Smokey Shack?

Because I'm not an animal, Gus.

Either way, it says right there on the wall...

we're not allowed to ship living material.

If his hand was still living, that would be inappropriate.

But it's not. Now, we need our gear...

if we're gonna find the rest of this body before we drive home.

All of our stuff is back in Psych Francisco.

Or is it?

You want to bumble with the bee?

Yeah.

Gus, we're home.

Give me some Chewy.

It's getting better.

Are we on the same page right now?

Yes.

Alternative Spider-verse.

No.

Bienvenue à La Tier.