A TICKET GROWS IN BROOKLYN (97) 12/5/2003 10:00p
Carlos used to be called “Cups.” In the midst of Doc’s ongoing bout with the crazies, he managed to do something nice for Cups. And for the record, if my name was Aloysius, trying to spell it would have driven me to a life of crime, too.

Monroe: Tickets for bird feeding? Now that’s real police work.
Bosco: It’s a quality of life summons.
Monroe: All that’s gonna do is leave a bunch of hungry pigeons.

Monroe: While your increasing the city’s revenue Officer Bloomberg, I’ll be taking a stroll.
Bosco: A little advice, from someone who’s been a cop longer...
Monroe: Oh, I can’t wait.
Bosco: Nothing good comes from walking around out there.

Guy: Oh, come on Officer, that’s pretty close. Cut me a break, man. That’s close.
Bosco: Look, the law does not say “pretty close.” It doesn’t say “somewhere in the neighborhood of 15 feet from a hydrant.”

Monroe: Back in business, huh Zeke?
Zeke: Yo, Sasha. No, no. That’s my Grandmama.
Monroe: {takes the phone from Zeke} Hey, how you doin’ Grandmama-dawg? You still working them two jobs with that bad hip ‘cause your good-for-nothing grandson can’t get an honest job instead of stuffing phones so people can’t get their change? Hello? Hello? Oh, man, we mighta killed Grandmama-dawg.
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Bosco: We’re gonna volunteer for jobs now?

{to Monroe after they watch the truck go through the building}
Bosco: That’s what you get for getting out and walking.

{to Monroe who is patting down Tanzi}
Bosco: When you’re done fondling the raging bull, your transport is here.

{seeing the truck lodged in the building}
Davis: Oh, my goodness. What’d you do this time Bosco?

Bosco: You’re ignoring me now?
Monroe: Would that I could.
Bosco: What the hell does that mean?

Davis: Hey, good luck.
Bosco: I’m gonna need it.
Davis: I was talking to Sasha.

Tanzi: I’m sorry. I screwed up, Ma. It’s all my fault.
Monroe: Don’t hear that much.
Bosco: Let me get you a tissue.

{about Bosco}
Tanzi: Why’s he gotta be such a hard-ass?
Monroe: ‘Cause his mother dropped him. On purpose.

Monroe: Don’t you have any obligation to your own?
Bosco: “My own”?
Monroe: Tanzi? He’s Italian.
Bosco: Our names end in a vowel and you expect me to give them special attention?

Swersky: Cut the kid loose.
Bosco: Are you serious?
Swersky: When am I not?

Bosco: You know the difference between you and me?
Monroe: You think there’s only one?
Bosco: I treat everyone the same. It don’t matter where they’re from or what color they are.
Monroe: You really believe that?
Bosco: Yeah, I do. It’s true.
Monroe: You wish you knew yourself that well Bosco.
Bosco: Just because my family left the boot doesn’t mean I got olive oil in my veins.

Monroe: You really don’t have any connection to your heritage?
Bosco: Sure I do. I love pizza. I like spaghetti. I like “Goodfellas” and two out of the three “Godfathers.” Past that, I’m about as as Italian as you are.
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{about Kylie}
Carlos: How could one kid be so unlucky? To be born to a one sibling psycho and a foster care reject who has no family?

Carlos: These people didn’t see me into a good home and send me birthday presents every year, Doc. They dumped me on the Red Cross’ doorstep. The Red Cross, you know, it may be good for a lot of things, but I’m pretty sure that they’re not gonna be a blood match for Kylie.
Doc: So you’ve never checked the records to see if there was anything there?
Carlos: Never cared enough.
Doc: Well, do you care enough now?

{about Bosco}
Monroe: He’s on some sort of summons mission.
Swersky: Just when I think I’m too old to be surprised.

Bosco: You’re gonna start with wiseguys now?
Monroe: I’m just going to talk.
Bosco: They’re not gonna talk to you.
Monroe: Well then they’re gonna listen.

Bosco: I only speak-a English.

Bosco: If you’re referring to that New York City police officer over there, we got problems, all right?
Nardo: We all get the urge for a little chocolate cannoli now and then, but a steady diet of that my friend, could kill you.
Bosco: So could insulting her again.
Nardo: Come on, relax Paisan.
Bosco: I’m not your Paisan, jagoff.

{about Mrs. Harding’s house}
Doc: This doesn’t look familiar?
Carlos: I was four. This old lady could have lived in a giant shoe and it wouldn’t look familiar.
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{to Bosco after seeing Tanzi’s burned body}
Monroe: Important enough to you yet?

{looking at Carlos’ baby picture}
Doc: Oh, those ears.
Mrs. Harding: The boys teased him something terrible. They called him “Cups” because they stuck out like that.
Carlos: “Cups”.
Mrs. Harding: Now that was a brooding child if I ever saw one. Sweet enough, but not so affectionate. Always off on his own. Sort of self-involved.
Doc: You’ve come a long way, Cups.

Monroe: They asked that we stay away.
Bosco: And you think we’re gonna do that?
Monroe: I hope not.

Bosco: Are you gonna let this couple get you all worked up, Aloysius? Huh?
Nardo: My name is Alie.
Bosco: Not according to your sheet, Aloysius.

Monroe: Don’t let them get away with this.
Tanzi Sr.: They already have. My son’s dead.

Bosco: I had an idea last night.
Monroe: Really?

{they get a call}
Doc: Time to save a life.

Levine: Go meet your mom.
Carlos: My mom.

Nardo: You got time for this?
Jimmy: Slow night.
Bosco: Just not for you, Alie.

Nardo: You think you’re cute, Boscorelli? Coming in here and embarrassing me in front of our people here?
Bosco: “Our people”? These mutts are your people, Alie. My people are the kind you’ve been trying to squeeze out of business.

Nardo: This ain’t over yet.
Bosco: Yeah? If not I’m gonna be in your life a lot, paisan. A lot. We’re gonna be like, you know, goomba buddies.

Bosco: You name me one famous Italian cop.
Monroe: Columbo.
Bosco: Later.
Monroe: Ciao.