Monk (season 1)

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Monk (2002–2009) is a television comedy drama created by Andy Breckman about Adrian Monk, a former detective, and now consultant, for the San Francisco Police Department who suffers from a number of psychological disorders, including obsessive-compulsive disorder and several phobias.

Mr. Monk and the Candidate edit

Monk: [surveying a crime scene] The stove.

Lt. Gitomer: Over here. It's in the kitchen.

Monk: No... I mean my stove. I-I think I left it on.

Sharona: It's okay. I, uh, checked it as we were leaving.

Monk: Are you sure? Did you turn the knob?

Sharona: Yeah.

Monk: The little knob, though?

Sharona: I turned all the knobs. The stove is off, Adrian.

Lt. Gitomer: We believe it was a burglary gone sour. She walked in, she surprised him, he panicked, he left there from the kitchen.

Monk: No. No. No, no. No. No. This-This was no burglary.

Lt. Gitomer: It wasn't?

Monk: He tried to make it look like one, but this guy was cold as ice. He wore her slippers to avoid leaving shoe prints - not something your neighborhood crackhead is prone to do.

Sharona: Adrian. Adrian. [she claps her hands to try to get Monk's attention]

Monk: [looking at the closet] He was in here. He was waiting.

Lt. Gitomer: Waiting for what?

Monk: You know, for her. He was here at least an hour. He was smoking. You can still smell it on the curtains. [sniffs the curtains] Menthols. Salems. Possibly Newports.

Lt. Gitomer: Maybe she was the smoker.

Monk: No. No, she was a Dutch Calvinist. They don't smoke. They consider their bodies to be a holy - a holy chalice of - [turns to Sharona] I'm sorry. I'm having trouble concentrating, because I think I smell gas. Did you hear the click? You gotta hear the click, not just feel the click. Hear it. [to the other detectives].

[Monk is silently wandering around a crime scene.]

Policewoman: What's he doing?

Sharona: I love this part. He does this Zen Sherlock Holmes thing.

[Deputy Mayor Sheldon Burger comes in]

Lt. Disher: Incoming, deputy mayor.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Oh, Sheldon Burger, who let you off your leash?

Sheldon Burger I just came from the hospital. Bodyguard didn't make it. Mayor's on his way back from Sacramento. Look, I don't have to tell you, Captain. We're on a bus to hell.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: I understand.

Sheldon Burger: If we don't slam dunk this, it's gonna look like we're not trying.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: I'm not an idiot, Sheldon! I've got every available man on the case.

Sheldon Burger: No, you don't. Mayor wants you to bring in... your old friend.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: [in disbelief] Monk?

Miranda St. Claire: Let me ask you a question. How can you investigate anything? I'm told you're "germophobic," afraid of the dark, heights, crowds... and milk.

Sharona: We're working on the milk. He's making good progress on milk.

Miranda St. Claire: Ah.

Monk: Mrs. St. Claire, I - I sense that you're a little upset, but I can tell you why I dropped my keys. I've been a bit preoccupied with another case. A girl was murdered in Santa Clara. Uh, a Nicole Vasques. Did you know her?

Miranda St. Claire: No.

Monk: No?

Miranda St. Claire: No.

Miranda St. Claire: What I do know is, if my husband is elected Mayor, you will never work in this town again. [to her aide] Let's go.

[She walks off.]

Monk: [to Sharona] Are you registered to vote?

Sharona: I never vote. It only encourages them.

Mr. Monk and the Psychic edit

[ Dirt-fearing Monk is standing a distance from the muddy car crash site on a plank.]

Sharona: Adrian! Don't you want a closer look?

Monk: No, I-I can see from here.

Sharona: Would you like us to move the crash site a little closer to you?

[Capt. Stottlemeyer returns to his office to find Monk and Sharona waiting inside.]

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Oh, I'm sorry, I thought this was my office. Yeah, see, I-I'm confused because my name is on the door.

Monk: Don't... don't blame Sharona, Captain.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: I have no intention of blaming Sharona. [looks at his desk, which has been cleaned off] What happened here?

Monk: I took the liberty of straightening up a little.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Where is all my crap?

Monk: Obviously, I had to throw some things away.

[Monk is looking for some evidence in a hardware store.]

Monk: It's a small pebble. It's about the size... of a... small pebble.

[Monk finds the crucial piece of evidence lodged in his hair after Sharona has been rooting around in a dumpster for it.]

Monk: Oh, wait. I found it.

Sharona: Where was it?!

Monk: It was in my... it must have flown up and got caught in my...

Sharona: [hits the side of the dumpster] GO-OD! I can't believe I listened to you! You're driving me nuts!

Monk: You gotta be a little skeptical, Sharona. Otherwise you end up believing in everything — UFOs, elves, income tax rebates...

Mr. Monk Meets Dale the Whale edit

[Looking around the house, Monk spots the pried-open smoke alarm]

Monk: What’s—what’s with this?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: That’s a smoke alarm. She was in the kitchen cooking something when he broke in. It started to burn.

Lt. Disher: A little girl across the street saw the guy turning it off.

Adrian Monk: So there was a witness?

Lt. Disher: She’s 10 years old. She didn’t see much.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: So the perp breaks in. He goes berserk in here. The victim runs upstairs and calls 911.

Monk: It’s strange.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: What’s strange?

Monk: The phone. He didn’t take the phone off the hook. So, what? He just let her call 911? [Monk inspects the kitchen. He finds a few leftovers in the fridge] Any prints?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Nope, nothing so far.

Monk: So, she’s here cooking. He breaks in. He’s a big guy. Lot of noise.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: He must’ve cornered her in here, and then chased her out and caught up with her in the bedroom?

Monk: I would’ve grabbed a knife. [points to the knife rack] Why didn’t she grab a knife?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: I don’t know. [Monk observes the bedroom] She was over here on the phone. Severe blunt trauma to the head with a baseball bat. [Monk eyes one of the phones]

Monk: Has this phone been touched?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: No, no. The scene’s intact. [Monk holds the phone with a handkerchief to avoid contaminating fingerprints; he punches a button on the receiver but only gets static until he pulls up the antenna]

Monk: The antenna has to be up to get a signal in here.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: So?

Monk: Somebody lowered it all the way after the call. You don’t usually see that when someone’s getting bludgeoned to death.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Excuse me, Doctor. Now, if Biederbeck is too big to get out of the room, how’d he get there in the first place? He’s like a ship in a bottle.

Dr. Christiaan Vezza: Well, when he first bought the apartment, he weighed a mere 422 pounds. He could still walk. On a good day, he could see his toes. Then his mother died, and he had a complete breakdown. He started binging. He would call restaurants and order everything on the menu. He topped out at 927 pounds. That was a decade ago. He has not left the room since.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Like I said, it’s just not possible.

[Late at night, Stottlemeyer and Disher brainstorm on how the immobile Biederbeck could have killed the judge.]

Lt. Disher: What time is it?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: [checks his watch] No, don’t ask. [Randy looks at his watch and both policemen sigh.] Whew.

Lt. Disher: Oh— [sniffs] Okay. Okay. Okay. Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong. Maybe he killed her in his apartment, and then he somehow moved the body back to her house.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: No. What about the 911 call? She made it from the house.

Lt. Disher: What about liposuction?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: What?

Lt. Disher: Liposuction, yeah! He... he lipo'd himself down to like, uh... I don't know, like 400 pounds. Down the elevator, across town... killed the judge.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Well, how did he gain all the weight back?

[Long pause]

Lt. Disher: Reverse liposuction.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Oh, my God.

Lt. Disher: Yeah, he just pumped it all back in.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: You think that’s possible?

Lt. Disher: I don’t know. Should I call a doctor?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: No. [chuckles] Let’s keep our reverse liposuction theory to ourselves. Okay, Randy?

[Stottlemeyer arrives to arrest Dale for the murder, interrupting Dale's video-talk with another girl]

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Hello, Mr. Biederbeck.

Dale "The Whale" Biederbeck: Captain. I really wish you would’ve called. I’m a little busy at the moment.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: I’m here to arrest you for the murder of Judge Kate Lavinio. [tosses Dale an envelope] That’s a warrant. Duly sworn.

Dale "The Whale" Biederbeck: [to the girl on TV] Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to call you back. [turns off the monitor] Doctor, will you call Howard Klein and tell him we’re suing the city for malicious prosecution…again? [Stottlemeyer motions towards the French doors]

Capt. Stottlemeyer: I have hired a local construction company to take out this door. We’re gonna get a crane here and lower your fat ass down to the street.

Dale "The Whale" Biederbeck: [laughs] A crane? Oh, that’s rich. But would you mind explaining to me how I’m supposed to have killed the bitch? I can’t leave this room, remember?

Captain Stottlemeyer: Mr. Monk!

Dale "the Whale" Biederbeck: Well, my, my, my. [Monk, Sharona, and a uniformed cop enter, carrying two chairs] It’s the defective detective once more. Lay it on me, Einstein.

Monk: These two chairs are from the judge’s house. The killer stood on one of them when he turned off the smoke alarm. A girl in the neighborhood saw, quote, a very, very fat man standing on it. But there’s something funny about the chair. It’s not broken. [refers to the uniform] This is Sergeant Cargill from the 14th Precinct. Sergeant, how much do you weigh?

Sgt. Cargill: 265.

Monk: Would you mind? [Cargill stands on top of the chair, which breaks under his weight] So, how could a very, very fat man have stood on it? There’s only one explanation. He was a fat man, not a heavy man. Lieutenant? [Randy enters wearing Dr. Vezza's empathy suit] I visited your clinic today and borrowed one of your empathy suits. [Randy stands on the other chair, which does not break] Fat, but not heavy. I believe we have another warrant to serve.

[Monk and Sharona are walking down a pier.]

Sharona: Adrian, can I ask you something? If it's none of my business, I promise I'll shut up.

Monk: I doubt it.

[They smile and there is a pause as they keep walking.]

Sharona: What did Trudy mean by "bread and butter"?

Monk: Whenever Trudy and I were walking somewhere, we would hold hands, and if there was a lamp post or somebody walked between us and we had to let go for a second, she'd always say "bread and butter".

Sharona: So when she died...

Monk: Yeah, I think it was a message for me. She was saying, "I have to let go now for a little while, but it won't be forever."

[She takes his arm in hers and they continue walking.].

Mr. Monk Goes to the Carnival edit

[After Monk breaks her car's headlight while driving, Sharona stops him from getting back behind the wheel.]

Sharona: I'm driving. When Hell freezes over, you can drive again. No — you know what? Even if Hell freezes over, I'm still driving, because I don't want you driving on the ice! Get in the car!

[Capt. Stottlemeyer comes out of the hearing, having failed to support Monk's reinstatement.]

Sharona: You son of a bitch.

Monk: I thought you were gonna do the right thing.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: I think I did do the right thing.

Sharona: He saves your ass all the time, and he never asks for anything in return. He closes case after case, and then he goes home and watches you on the news taking all the credit!

Capt. Stottlemeyer: I wanted to recommend you, I tried to recommend you, but I just couldn't do it. Adrian, you are not ready to carry a gun. You're not ready to have other cops depend on you under fire. In your heart, you know you're not ready. [Monk walks off]

Sharona: At least your friend Adam Kirk has the decency to stab people in the front.

[Stottlemeyer and Disher are in Stottlemeyer's office]

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Hey, Randy, did I ever tell you about Monk's first day as a detective?

Lt. Disher: No, sir.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Have a seat. [Randy does] He didn't have a partner, so I got stuck with him.

Lt. Disher: Was he, you know...? [motions to his head]

Capt. Stottlemeyer: No. He was... a little wound. He used to wipe off the windshield and rearrange the glovebox before we'd roll. Anyway, we're the primaries on a body at a hotel in the Castro. A hooker had swallowed a bunch of promazine - you know, the big sleeping pills?

Lt. Disher: Horse tranquilizers, sir.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: I said suicide. Every cop on the scene said suicide. Medical examiner said suicide. Monk walks in, says murder. "Where's the water?" The room had no water! Simple. Eight people in the room, but nobody saw that.

Lt. Disher: Well, I'm sure you would have seen it eventually, sir.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Don't kid yourself. There is only one Adrian Monk.

Sharona: Let's go up in the Ferris Wheel, then we'll be able to see everything.

Monk: I've got a better idea. You go up in the Ferris Wheel and you can see everything.

[cuts to Sharona in the bucket]

Sharona: You do know how to operate this thing, right?

Monk: How hard can it be?

Sharona: So you remember how many empty boxes you saw?

Monk: Yes. It's a blessing, and a curse. Now don't ever take my shoes again!

Mr. Monk Goes to the Asylum edit

[Monk and the other patients are painting their self-portraits]

Dr. Morris Lancaster: Now remember, this is supposed to be a self portrait. How do you feel about yourself? Look deep inside. There's no right or wrong. [looks over one patient's work] Very good. I love those eyes.

Monk: Excuse me, Doctor. Is there a sink nearby?

[Jane Gordon sighs]

Monk: I-I-I need to wash up.

Jane Gordon: Will you shut him up! He has been whining since he walked in here. It's too hot. It's too cold. I have charcoal on my hands!

Dr. Morris Lancaster: Jane, what did we talk about yesterday?

Jane Gordon: [takes a breath] Controlling the urge to lash out.

Dr. Morris Lancaster: Do you have something you wanna say to Mr. Monk?

Jane Gordon: [sighs] Sorry.

Monk: That's okay. I do have a little charcoal on my hands.

Manny: Dr. Lancaster, guess what I'm painting!

Everyone: Santa Claus!

Dr. Morris Lancaster: All right, all right. [He looks at Manny's work] Huh. Well, you know this is supposed to be a self-portrait. [We see that Manny has painted a HUGE Santa Claus, with a tiny boy at his feet]

Manny: [points to the little boy] That's me.

Dr. Morris Lancaster: Hmm. Why are you so small?

Manny: Everybody's small compared to Santa. [Janie turns to Monk]

Jane Gordon: He actually sits up every night and waits for him.

Manny: I have a feeling he's on his way. It's definitely getting colder outside.

Jane Gordon: It's August, whackjob!

Dr. Morris Lancaster: It's all right. Back to work. Come on. Come on. Go ahead. Go ahead.

Dr. Morris Lancaster: If anything, his behavior has deteriorated. We may have to keep him here longer than we thought.

Sharona: Well, how much longer?

Dr. Morris Lancaster: That's hard to say. It could be a month.

Sharona: A month? [They examine Monk, standing out in the garden]

Dr. Morris Lancaster: It could be as long as a year. Adrian is bipolar. He's delusional and he's paranoid. He sees murder mysteries everywhere he turns. In fact, he's befriended another patient, and the two of them are trying to prove that Santa Claus really does exist.

Sharona: Santa Claus?

Dr. Morris Lancaster: Mm-hmm. They went out on the roof collecting evidence. It would be funny if it wasn't so... dysfunctional. [Dr. Lancaster and Sharona meet Monk] Adrian, look who's here.

Sharona: Hey, boss. How you feelin'?

Monk: Ah, I feel good. I can't-I can't wait to go home.

Sharona: Well, we were just talking about that.

Dr. Morris Lancaster: Adrian, would you mind if I showed your friend some of the artwork that you made yesterday? [He shows some artwork] Oh, here it is. Wait a minute. [shows them a disturbed image of Trudy's grave]

Monk: Did I draw that?

Dr. Morris Lancaster: You don't remember? Isn't that Trudy's grave?

Sharona: Um, Dr. Lancaster said that you saw Santa Claus.

Monk: [scoffs] No, we didn't actually see him. Manny took a picture, but he lost the camera. But we found a piece of a red suit.

Dr. Morris Lancaster: We'd love to see it, Adrian.

[Monk looks through his pockets for the piece of Santa fabric that he found, but he can't find it]

Monk: It was here. It was in here. A little piece of fabric, you know, of Santa's-Santa's, you know, suit. Okay, no, no. It was a piece of... fabric, and...

Sharona: Doctor? Can I talk to you privately?

Monk: Like... Santa's suit.

Dr. Morris Lancaster: Sure. [He and Sharona walk away]

Sharona: He's not himself. He needs me. Look, I could be here two, three times a week, okay? I still have my license. Maybe they can give me a job here.

Dr. Morris Lancaster: Sharona, I know you mean well, but the less contact Adrian has with his old life, the better. You can write him a letter. You can bring him something from home. I'm sure he'd like that, but no visits.

[Sharona approaches Monk, who is now looking under his bed]

Sharona: Look, Adrian. I-listen, I-I can't take you home right now.

Monk: Sharona, look at his shoes, just look at his shoes. They're smudged. Could be soot. Those are boat shoes. They're made for traction. And I think, he has been walking on the roof.

[On the hospital's roof, Monk addresses "Santa," in reality Dr. Lancaster in disguise, as the police cover them from below.]

Monk: By the way, in case we don't get a chance to talk later, just want you to know — except for the murders and your trying to kill me, you really were the best doctor I ever had.

Monk: Don't laugh, I just wanted to make sure.

Sharona: Is there a tree by the window?

Monk: Yes.

Sharona: Is there a mobile by the closet?

Monk: Yes.

Sharona: Is there a picture of Trudy on the nightstand?

Monk: Yes.

Sharona: Adrian, you are in your own house.

Mr. Monk and the Billionaire Mugger edit

[Disher comes into Stottlemeyer's office]

Lt. Disher: Captain.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: You just missed the deputy commissioner. Guess what he wanted to talk about? Murder rates spiking? The Sidney Teal investigation? No, all he wanted to know was what we’re doing about the runaway cop.

Lt. Disher: Fraidy Cop. [drops a newspaper on Stottlemeyer's desk]

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Excuse me?

Lt. Disher: That’s what they’re calling him. [Stottlemeyer scruitinizes the article] We, uh, sort of pieced together the route he took. [He walks over to a blown up street map of San Francisco, and sighs wearily] I don't know. Okay. [He pulls out a few pushpins] After the shooting, three people saw him running west towards the park here, and on 19th, here, [Inserts a pushpin into an intersection] he flagged down a taxi.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: He took a taxi?

Lt. Disher: Yeah, it gets worse. He, uh, threw up in the backseat. But we did get his blood type from the vomit. The taxi then, uh, dropped him off at a bar up on Geary Street... [inserts another pushpin on the map] ...there, where he sat in a booth at the back, apparently drinking bourbon and crying.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: He was crying? Oh, dear Lord.

Lt. Disher: About midnight, an older woman in a brown station wagon was seen picking him up. Possibly his mother.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: He called his mom?

Lt. Disher: Yeah.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Well, that son-of-a-bitch better hope I don’t find him first. [He looks at the cartographic sketch of Fraidy Cop].

Capt. Stottlemeyer: [at a press conference] Sidney Teal did not suffer a nervous breakdown. The incident on Harrison Place was, in fact, a crime of passion. We believe that Mr. Teal, was in fact trying to murder Mr. Modine, who was linked romantically at one time with Mr. Teal’s wife, Myra. Over the next 10 days, the D.A.’s office is going to decide whether or not they want to press charges against Mr. Modine for filing a false report. Any questions?

Reporter #1: Captain, is there any news on Fraidy Cop?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: No comment.

Reporter #1: Captain, there’s a story in today’s Tribune that says the department knows the identity of Fraidy Cop, but is refusing to release it.

Reporter #2: Is that true, Captain?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: No comment. [The reporters all clamor for a few moments until Stottlemeyer interrupts] All right. Hey, hey. Hang on. I have another statement, and here it is: The next reporter that asks me about this so-called Fraidy Cop is going to be banned from all press conferences for a year.

Monk: Walk me through it.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: It’s pretty routine till we get to the punch line. Modine and his date are walking to their car over here. The, uh, perp is over here. Now, the perp pops out with a knife. Modine pulls out his piece, .38 caliber... [off Monk's look] I already called, he’s licensed. Bang, bang, bang. Three in the chest.

Monk: So, I just have one question: What am I doing here?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Here comes the punch line: Our perp is Sidney Teal.

Sharona: The computer guy?

Monk: Get out of town!

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Take a look. [lifts up the canvas covering the late Sidney Teal] That’s what $5 billion looks like.

Monk: Get-out-of-town! What in God’s name was he doing? [Stottlemeyer puts Teal's false mustache in an evidence bag]

Capt. Stottlemeyer: I think maybe, that this is how he got his kicks. I mean, that kind of money can make a person crazy.

Monk: Yeah. I wouldn’t know.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yeah, right. Anyway, that’s my theory. If you’ve got a better one, I’d really like to hear it.

Monk: Well—

Sharona: No. No. Captain, we can’t start working until we talk about our fee!

Monk: Sharona, could you give me a second here? [Sharona walks away] You know, this is insane.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yeah, it’s crazy. It gets crazier. Check this out. [He uncovers Teal's leg] This guy’s wearin’ knee pads.

Monk: Knee pads?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yeah, and he’s got elbow pads.

Monk: Was he planning on going rollerblading after?

[Sharona solves the case by reading Sydney Teal's autobiography while working at a lamp store]

Sharona: Excuse me, miss? We're closing.

Customer: Now?

Sharona: That's right.

Customer: Why?

Sharona: It's a holiday.

Customer: What holiday?

Sharona: [Sharona pauses and looks around] It's...Lamp Day!

[Monk and Sharona question Sidney Teal's chauffeur]

Willis: You know, it's funny. Mr. Teal had it all - more money than God, a beautiful wife - but he was the loneliest man on the planet. I was the chauffeur, and I felt sorry for him.

Sharona: Feeling sorry for your boss? I can't imagine how that must feel.

Adrian Monk: Get in the car!

Mr. Monk and the Other Woman edit

Monk: It doesn't make any sense.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Does everything have to make sense, Monk?

Monk: Well... yeah, it kinda does.

Todd: You should be ashamed of yourself!

Monk: I am, 24-7.

[Adrian packs to stay overnight at Monica's after a murder in her garage.]

Sharona: I am not coming to get you in the middle of the night!

Monk: You won't have to get me — I'm not a child, Sharona. [worriedly] Can't find my PJs!

[After Stottlemeyer ruins Monk's night "sleepover" with a wrong accusation, and Monk nevertheless solves the case...]

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Hey, Monk!

[Stottlemeyer shuffles uncomfortably for a moment.]

Capt. Stottlemeyer: I'm sorry.

Monk: You don't have to say that.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yes, I do. Commissioner is making me.

Mr. Monk and the Marathon Man edit

Monk: [about someone's sweater that he tried to fix] It was askew!

Sharona: So what? So what — why can't you just let people be askew? I mean, what are you, the Askew Police?

Monk: Yes, I'm the Askew Police.

[Stottlemeyer et al. confront McDowell about his affair with the murder victim.]

Capt. Stottlemeyer: She was your girlfriend.

McDowell: Yes, uh... I really screwed up, big time.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: How long have you been "screwing up"?

[Tonday gives Monk his headband from his famous 1973 run. Monk places it against his cheek.]

Monk: Thank you, my friend. Thank you for this. This... means the world to me.

Tonday: I haven't worn it since the big race. Or washed it.

[Tonday gets into his taxi. Monk pulls the headband off his cheek and stares at it.]

Monk: Baggie! Baggie! Baggie, baggie!

Sharona: Just give it to me.

Mr. Monk Takes a Vacation edit

[Monk and Benjy observe Sharona losing to a handsome acquaintance at tennis.]

Benjy: Mom coulda got that shot. You think she's letting him win?

Monk: I wouldn't be surprised.

Benjy: You know, why do girls do that?

Adrian Monk: Someday you'll understand. [pauses] When you do, call me and explain it to me.

[Monk and Disher are talking on the phone]

Lt. Disher: So, you want to tell me what's going on?

Monk: I think this time, he might have killed his wife.

Lt. Disher: Where are you staying, Monk? The Bates Motel?

Monk: No, but I think this place is run by the same company.

[Trying to locate the murder victim, Monk investigates some missing bags of quicklime.]

Monk: There had to be more than one person. I think we're looking for a gang. [looks at the window] Did you move those palette boards?

Groundskeeper: They don't belong there.

[Monk compares the window height to the palette stack height.]

Monk: They were short.

Groundskeeper: A short gang of lime thieves?

Monk: It's a nutty world.

Monk: Okay, just for the record, what we just did...

Benjy: Breaking and entering?

Monk: Yeah... it's wrong. Don't-don't do it.

[Monk, with Benjy tagging along, checks out the maids' locker room.]

Benjy: Think the dead body's in here?

Monk: Maybe. It's been everywhere else.

Mr. Monk and the Earthquake edit

[The earthquake prevents Sharona and Benjy from returning to their home.]

Sharona: Well, we can always stay at Aunt Gail's.

Benjy: Why can't we stay at Mr. Monk's?

Sharona: Because I will go crazy slower at Aunt Gail's.

[As they sit with the new widow, gibberish-speaking Adrian attempts to express his condolences. Sharona tells him to leave the room.]

Father Hatcher: Um... where's he from?

Sharona: Neptune.

[Benjy turns on the tap and rusty colored water comes out]

Benjy: The water's all rusty!

Gail Fleming: Oh yeah, it always gets like that after an earthquake. Fortunately, I always keep some mineral water around for situations like this... Where's my water?

[She opens the cupboard under the sink, which is empty. Cuts to the bathroom, where Monk is soaking in the tub, surrounded by empty plastic bottles.]

Gail Fleming: [banging on the door] Mr. Monk?

Monk: Don't come in, I'm taking a bath.

Gail Fleming: With my mineral water?!

Monk: I tried the water from the tap, it was a little rusty.

Gail Fleming: Yeah well, enjoy that bath, it's costing me $95 dollars!

Monk: [oblivious to her sarcasm] Thank you!

Lt. Disher: So, uh... what's it like, having Adrian Monk as a house guest?

Gail Fleming: Well, a few years ago, a squirrel got into the house, and I could hear it running through the attic and the walls. Took me two months to get rid of it. Drove me crazy.

Lt. Disher: ...And?

Gail Fleming: And, that's what it's like!

[Sharona kicks Darryl into the arms of Capt. Stottlemeyer, who grabs him from behind.]

Darryl Wright: Son of a bitch!

Capt. Stottlemeyer: I'm surprised you can talk with a broken jaw.

Darryl Wright: I don't have a broken jaw!

[Stottlemeyer spins him around and belts him.].

Mr. Monk and the Red-Headed Stranger edit

[Monk rattles off an arcane observation about one of Willie's studio recordings.]

Willie Nelson: You know more about me than I do.

Sharona: He knows more about everybody than they do.

[Monk, Sharona, Stottlemeyer and Disher are in Stottlemeyer's office]

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Close the door. [Randy closes the door] What you are about to see cannot leave this room. The tabloids would pay a million dollars for this videotape. It's from the surveillance camera near the crime scene. [Randy presses play on the tape]

Lt. Disher: The alley's a dead end. This is the only way in. The side door to the radio station was wired to an alarm, so we know it wasn't opened.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: The bottom line: we can tell for sure who was or was not there. [Monk pretends playing the clarinet] What the hell are you doing? [Monk signals to Stottlemeyer to wait a minute]

Sharona: Oh, uh, he's practicing.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Really?

Sharona: Willie Nelson invited him to sit in with his band.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Well, he may be live from Folsom Prison. Check this out. Go ahead. [Randy presses play on the tape. On the tape, Mrs. Mass pass by the camera as she enters the alleyway, tapping her cane as she feels around] Yeah, there goes Mrs. Mass. Tap, tap, tap. She goes into the alley. Fast-forward. [Randy fast forwards the tape a few minutes; Sonny Cross walks by the camera] And there goes the soon-to-be-late Sonny Cross. [A few seconds after Sonny Cross enters, Willie Nelson runs past the camera] And there goes Willie Nelson. Nobody else goes in or out. Pretty much a slam dunk.

Sharona: Are you gonna arrest him?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: D.A.'s ready to move. I'm waiting for some tests from the lab. Maybe tomorrow. [turns to Randy] Call your mom. Tell her to set the VCR. We're gonna be on the 6:00 news.

Monk: Captain, what about the note on the door?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: My videotape trumps your note. Ask any lawyer.

Monk: I don't know.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Monk, look. My heroes have been always been cowboys too. It's either "A," the blind woman, who has zero motive, or it's "B," your buddy, the Red-Headed Stranger.

Lt. Disher: Who had motive, means and opportunity, and was the identified by the only witness at the scene.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: "A" or "B", Monk?

Monk: I think it's "C".

Capt. Stottlemeyer: "C"? What the hell is "C"?

Monk: I don't know yet.

Lt. Disher: So, what's the plan?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Well, you know how they handled the O.J. case down in Los Angeles? We do the opposite. Where are we?

Lt. Disher: Uh, same as I told you on the phone, sir. Mrs. Mass is reasonably sure that she can recognize the assailant's voice.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Reasonably sure. [turns to Mrs. Mass] Excuse me, Mrs. Mass? Do you listen to country and western music?

Wendy Maas: No, I like classical.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Okay. Good. Bring him in.

Lt. Disher: Sir, are you ready for this?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: What is this? A game show? Can't you just walk in here and say what you have to say?

Lt. Disher: The droplets on Willie Nelson's jacket: human blood from the victim.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Well, he said that he leaned over the body. Maybe he got the blood on him then.

Lt. Disher: The lab is 40% sure they're splatter marks from the actual shooting.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: 40%?

Lt. Disher: What do you think?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Well, I think it's not exactly through the hoop, is it?

Lt. Disher: Okay, the blood is 40%. Videotape?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Forty-eight percent.

Lt. Disher: Voice I.D.?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Fifteen percent.

Lt. Disher: Motive?

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Twenty.

Lt. Disher: Well, that's like 123%. I mean, plus means and opportunity.

[Stottlemeyer sighs]

Capt. Stottlemeyer: All right, bring him in. I have to be crazy. Be plumb out of my mind to arrest Willie Nelson.

[Stottlemeyer comes to the recording studio to arrest Willie Nelson for murder]

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Willie Nelson?

Jody Payne - Band Member #1: I'm Willie Nelson.

Bee Spears - Band Member #2: I'm Willie Nelson.

Mickey Raphael - Band Member #3: I'm Willie Nelson.

Willie Nelson: Don't think they're goin' for it, boys.

Lt. Disher: Mr. Nelson, we have a warrant for your arrest for the premeditated murder of Jason "Sonny" Cross.

Mr. Monk and the Airplane edit

Monk: She forgot she was a vegetarian? Who forgets they're vegetarian? It's like... forgetting you're a Republican.

[Monk is talking to Lt. Disher on an airplane phone.]

Lt. Disher: Are you really up there in an airplane?

Monk: It's better than being up here not in an airplane.

[Stephan's girlfriend locks Monk inside the bathroom while he is changing. He starts banging on the door and Sharona comes to rescue him.]

Monk: Sharona! Open up! This isn't funny!

[Sharona opens the door. Monk pops out, clutching a piece of paper.]

Sharona: What's that?

Monk: It's my will.

[Monk observes Stefan and Barbara Chabrol's behavior when a close friend, Bernard, comes up]

Bernard: Stefan!

Stefan Chabrol: Bernard.

Bernard: [chuckles] What a small world. Can you believe this?

Stefan Chabrol: No.

Bernard: I was just thinking about your father, God rest his soul. Are you heading back home?

Stefan Chabrol: Yeah, that’s right.

Bernard: Yes, me too. I haven’t seen you since the big anniversary party.

Stefan Chabrol: Ah! [Bernard turns to Barbara]

Bernard: Barbara, ravissante, comme toujours. ["Barbara, lovely, as always."] [He kisses her hand]

Barbara Chabrol: It’s a pleasure to meet you.

Bernard: To meet me? Well, you don’t remember. [laughs] You’re breaking an old man’s heart. I taught you how to waltz that night.

Barbara Chabrol: Oh, yes. Of course you did, I’m sorry, I’d forgotten.

Bernard: Moi, j’aurais pu jamais oubliee une soiree pareille. ["Me, I could have never forgotten that evening."]

Barbara Chabrol: I’m sorry, I don’t speak French.

Bernard: Since when? We spoke for over an hour. That was only three years ago.

Stefan Chabrol: Uh, Bernard.

[Monk takes drastic measures to stop the Chabrols from leaving Newark]

Monk: Hi! Hello. [clears his throat] Yeah, I’m, uh, worried about a buddy of mine, uh, Captain Claude Pritchard.

Man on phone: Claude Pritchard the pilot, yeah. He’s on the tarmac right now. He’s been cleared to take off.

Monk: So, he made it okay. What a relief. Unbelievable.

Man on phone: What do you mean?

Monk: Uh, oh, he was in pretty bad shape when I left him. We were out partying all last night, and into this morning, and…we’re just…party boys.

Man on phone: Party boys?

Monk: Yeah. Yeah, it was pretty ugly there for—I tried to take his keys away, but you know how old Claude gets when he’s totally… [Sharona mouths the word "hammered"] Hammered.

[Cuts to the inside of the plane, where Stefan Chabrol and "Barbara" toast their wine glasses]

Stewardess: Ladies and gentlemen, we have been asked to return to the gate. Please stay in your seats. We will be underway in just a few moments.