Zee-wo-wun, the latest transfer to the South Detroit Police Fluffipolitian strides into the building with an indomitable smile. The fact that the building is on fire with parts collapsing all around him simply can’t seem to sully his good mood. “Am yu da wepwacement fwum Nowth Detwoit?” Another fluffy asks after spotting Zee-wo-wun and running over, dodging flaming debris as he goes.
“YUS!” Zee-wo-wun answers proudly, his badge shining in the flames all around him.
“Weww den yu bettah be wedy tu ak-shu-wy wowk hewe, dis nu am a stwoww twoo da pawk wike Nowth Det-ARGH!” The other fluffy officer is cut off as a piece of ceiling tile crushes his head, but Zee-wo-wun doesn’t seem to notice, seeing as how he was knocked unconscious by the Chief’s door slamming open.
“WHERE THE HELL IS THE NEW FLUF… Oops…”
Zee-wo-wun’s next memories are a confusing jumble of half remembered images and impressions.
He’s being wheeled by several other fluffies on a gurney, then everything fades to black.
He’s being dragged to and thrown into a dumpster by a fluffy wearing blood covered scrubs.
He’s being pulled out of the dumpster by a sketchy looking fluffy wearing overalls.
He wakes up wearing a strange suit of armor (read a Pepsi branded cardboard box), but the armor is faulty, as Pepsi refused to pay Grim for product placement.
He’s being thrown back into the dumpster.
He’s being pulled back out of the dumpster by an even sketchier looking fluffy.
The even sketchier fluffy, unable to sell Zee-wo-wun for sketties money throws him into a volcano.
He’s being pulled out of the sea by a less sketchy than the second, but still really sketchy fluffy.
Zee-wo-wun wakes up wearing Amazonian armor (an Amazon box) but that doesn’t work either as Amazon also refused to pay Grim for the product placement, so finally plain brown cardboard armor is used.
Finally, after a really long segment that really should have been a phone call, Zee-wo-wun is driven back to the South Detroit Police Fluffipolitian station, resplendent in his shiny cardboard armor, and heads to the shooting range, where he is shot.
Three days later, Zee-wo-too is driven to the South Detroit Police Fluffipolitian station, resplendent in his shiny cardboard armor, and heads to the shooting range, where he takes up position and tries out the brand new, fully manual, sorry poopies cannon. Satisfied with the results, he heads out on patrol, where he commits no war crimes, because civilians don’t count.
MEANWHILE!
In the Chief Executive bathrooms of Not Evil Legal Crimes Incorporated, one pooping executive calls out to another.
“Dave? Are we the bad guys?”
“Your mother.”
BACK AT THE PLOT!
Zee-wo-too has to check the Crimes-That-Happened-To-Zee-wo-too computer terminal for reasons. The message on the screen is telling, as he stares at it in the darkened room.
“Yu am ded”
Zee-wo-too looks at it emotionless from inside his cardboard box before moving to the next terminal.
“Fwank kiwwed yo”
Again, Zee-wo-too stares blankly at the screen before moving onto the next screen.
“Fwank am behind yu”
Zee-wo-too is up like a shot and in three minutes flat has gotten up out of his seat and grabbed Frank the fluffy by the scruff of the neck.
“WHY AM YU TWYIN’ TU KIWW ZEE-WO-TOO?” He shouts as he slams Frank’s head onto a desk.
“Wong mobie! Dis am wobocop!” Frank shouts.
“Oh… Sowwy.” Zee-wo-too looks embarrassed and unsure of himself.
“Dat ok.”
“Tank oo fow undastandies.” With a giant sigh of relief, Zee-wo-too goes back to slamming Frank’s head against the table.
Ten minutes later Zee-wo-too walks away from the scrambled mess that was Frank’s head. So relieved was Zee-wo-too at Frank’s understanding of his forgetting what movie he was in, that he had forgotten to stop beating Frank long enough for Frank to talk at any point before he died.
ONE YEAR LATER
Zee-wo-too boldly strides into the Not Evil Legal Crimes Incorporated Executive Boardroom, interrupting a very important, very boring meeting of the human executives.
“Zee-wo-too nee nu in-stwu-shuns!”
“What do you mean new instructions?” One of the executives asks, “Your instructions were to fight crime!”
“Dewe am nu mowe cwime!”
“How is that possible? This is Detroit!” Another executive gets to his feet, exasperated.
“Da civiwwians kept cawsin’ da cwime, su Zee-wo-too stawted fightin’ dem ‘fowe dey did da cwime, an’ nao dewe am nu civiwwians weft.”
“Umm… go to Cleveland?”