Monk (season 2)

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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 Goes Back to School

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Well, I guess this is your worst nightmare, a crime scene on a rooftop.
Monk: No, it's not my worst nightmare. It's my fourth worst. No, wait, fifth. No, fourth. Fourth or fifth, I didn't bring the list with me.

Monk: [repeating Derek Philby's words back to him] Q.E.D. Quod erat demonstratum. "Thus it is proven".

Monk: Used to be. Um... I'm a private consultant now, and, uh... I'm just helping the department with their friendship group.
Derek Philby: Excuse me, what are you doing?
Monk: Oh - um... just making them even.
Derek Philby: [highly amused at the little display] But you're mixing the regular with the decaf!
Monk: But they're even.
Derek Philby: But they're mixed together!
Monk: But they're - they're even.
Derek Philby: But they're mixed together.
Monk: But they're even...
Derek Philby: But they're mixed together.
Monk: But they're even...
[changes the subject].

Mr. Monk Goes to Mexico

[Monk's suitcases, filled with food and water, get stolen]
Monk: What am I going to eat and drink?
Sharona: Adrian, they have food and water in Mexico.
Monk: Answer the question! What am I going to eat and drink!?

[Monk has been presumed dead]
Capt. Stottlemeyer: I want a full-dress funeral, white gloves and black armbands, twenty-one gun salute. I want the governor there, and I want the mayor to give a eulogy...
Lt. Disher: Monk wasn't on active duty, sir. We can't go full-dress...
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Adrian Monk is to be buried with honors, or I quit! Let me tell you something, Lieutenant, and I'm not afraid to say this: I loved that man.
[The phone rings]
Capt. Stottlemeyer: [answers] Stottlemeyer... yes. Yes, I understand. [hangs up] Adrian Monk is alive. I HATE THAT MAN!

Lt. Plato: Maybe you come back alone, you can earn some more necklaces.
Sharona: Why does everybody keep mentioning my necklaces?
Lt. Plato: They are fiesta beads.
Sharona: What are fiesta beads?
Lt. Plato: You don't remember how you got them?
Sharona: Ahh, no.
Lt. Plato: Guys give them to girls... at parties.
Sharona: Oh, what for?
[Lt. Plato whispers to Sharona]
Sharona: [gasps] Oh my God, why didn't you tell me?!
Lt. Plato: You wore them so... proudly!

[explaining what happened, hoarsely, as he hasn't drank any water in days]
Monk: He was a thirsty victim...
Sharona: Adrian.
Monk: I mean, the perfect victim.

Mr. Monk Goes to the Ballgame

[Monk gets baseball star Scott Gregorio to coach Benjy at batting practice.]
Sharona: Thank you, Adrian! [pause] I thought I'd thank you now, because in a half an hour, you're probably gonna piss me off again.
Monk: You're welcome.

Scott Gregorio: They say that when you lose an arm, you can still feel it. That's what it feels like. I miss her so much. How do you... how do you go on? How do you keep working?
Monk: When Trudy fell in love with me, I was a detective. I was on the street, breaking cases. So I keep working. I keep trying to be the man she loved. That's all you can do: be the man she loved.

[Monk solves the case, and brings a videotape to prove his theory.]
Monk: Can I make a prediction here? You're each going to say, "Oh, my God" twice.
Sharona: Okay, here it is!
Monk: Don't blink.
[They watch the video.]
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Oh, my God.
Lt. Disher: Oh, my God!
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Oh, my...
Lt. Disher: Oh, my God!
Monk: [off Stottlemeyer's look] My God.

[after the season ends, and Scott has failed to break a famous record]
Scott Gregorio: ...But I would like to say something. I met a man recently. He's become a good friend. He reminded me that there are things in life much more important than baseball. What matters most, is the people you love. Being true to them, or their memories. That's the real ball game. My friend isn't giving up on that, and neither am I. I'll see you all in spring training.

Mr. Monk Goes to the Circus

Capt. Stottlemeyer: All right. It's 12:30, the place is packed. Everybody's having a good time. Then the perp, dressed in black, comes down the fire escape, and leaps down.
Monk: Wait a minute, he leaps down?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yep. [points] Now the maitre'd is here, trying to call 911 on his cell phone. He confronts the perp, the perp does a spin move... [spins and lifts up his foot; imitating the killer] Hits the phone out of the maitre'd's hand.
Monk: Really?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: At this point, pulls a gun, fires one round, right through the guy's heart - killshot. [imitates pulling a gun]
Monk: From here? What is that, thirty feet?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Thirty-four. I know, that's a hell of a shot. We pulled that slug out of the planter box.
Lt. Disher: Look at this. [He shows Monk an evidence bag containing the recovered bullet]
Monk: [incredulous] What did he use? A cannon?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: That's a .454 from a Ruger Casull.
Lt. Disher: They use it on safaris, to stop elephants.
Monk: And who was the victim?
Lt. Disher: [looks at his notes] Uh, his name is Sergei Cluvarias. They're running it now.
Monk: Table's set for two. Who was his date?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Some broad. She ran off. We'll have a sketch soon. [Monk looks at the table]
Monk: Uh-huh. Where is the sugar?
Lt. Disher: Sugar? [We see a close up of the empty sugar bowl, with just a trace of unrefined sugar lining it]
Monk: The sugar cubes. This bowl's empty. All the other bowls are full.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: You're right. What's that mean?
Monk: I don't know. What about the cashier?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: No, showed zero interest. This wasn't about money.
Lt. Disher: Or it was, and he got scared away. [Monk picks up something off another table with his fingers]
Capt. Stottlemeyer: What's that?
Monk: Wood shavings.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Wood shavings?
Monk: Sawdust?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Randy! [Randy comes back with an evidence bag]
Monk: What happened next?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Well, the getaway, which is why you're here. I thought this might be right up your alley.
Lt. Disher: No pun intended. [Stottlemeyer and Monk shoot a nasty glare at Randy]
Monk: What pun is that?
Lt. Disher: Because of the alley.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Shecky, can I continue? All right. For once, the witnesses are all on the same page: they all saw the perp jump to this table, and then leaped up to this bar [He gestures to show the killer's actions] …and did a somersault, and then over the valet, runs down the street and makes a left turn down the alley.
[Monk looks on]
Monk: Is there a circus in town?
Lt. Disher: A circus? [An officer hands something to Randy]
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Ha ha. Circus. That makes a lot of sense. [Randy turns to them]
Lt. Disher: Sir?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yeah?
Lt. Disher: We just got a positive on the victim. He's the master of ceremony at the Dratch & Denby Traveling Circus.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Master of ceremonies?
Lt. Disher: Yeah, the ringmaster.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: At the circus?

Monk: [at the circus] I'm not really in my comfort zone here.
Sharona: You have a comfort zone?
Monk: Yes, I have a comfort zone. [He jumps as a woman snake-charmer sticks a python in his face]
Sharona: I've never seen your comfort zone.
Monk: It's not very big. It's, uh... [tries to size it up with his hands]'s kind of small. I-I don't have a comfort zone.

[Monk and Sharona talk to Arianna Dakkar, the horse trainer]
Monk: Miss Dakkar, we're investigating the death of Sergei Cluvarias.
Ariana Dakkar: Why talk to me?
Monk: You were with him last night, weren't you? At the cafe when he was killed.
Ariana Dakkar: Who told you that?
Monk: No one told me. You shouldn't have taken all the sugar cubes from the table.
Ariana Dakkar: I shouldn't have run away, I know, but I was scared. I was sure she was going to kill me, too.
Monk: "She"? You think the killer was a woman? [Ariana’s demeanor changes]
Ariana Dakkar: I don't think anything. I know exactly who it was! I know she was crazy, but I never thought she would try something in public.
Sharona: Who?
Ariana Dakkar: Natasia Lovara. She calls herself The Queen of The Sky.
Monk: An acrobat.
Ariana Dakkar: Sergei's ex-wife. Jealous bitch! [As she continues to talk, she goes off to reach into her purse for a grooming implement] She couldn't stand the thought of him having a life. If she's miserable, everybody else has to be miserable. She tried to kill him before, six months ago, but there wasn't enough evidence to indict her.
Sharona: If you know who did it, why didn't you go to the police?
Monk: Because she was afraid. You're not a citizen yet, but you're about to take your naturalization test, and you didn't want to draw attention to herself.
Ariana Dakkar: How did you know that?
Monk: The pamphlet in your bag. You're studying the U.S. Constitution, something no citizen would ever do. Good luck, by the way.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: You know, when Karen and I were having trouble last year, we went to a marriage counselor, a guy named Mosely. Decent guy. He didn't help us much, but I'm sure Karen has the number if you'd like it.
Sharona: We're not married, and if we ever get married, shoot me!
Monk: You know who you should never marry? The Elephant Man!
Sharona: I'd marry the Elephant Man before I married you!

Monk: I wanna make sure I understand this. I have a problem... you know the answer...
Dr. Charles Kroger: That's right.
Monk: I'm paying you...
Dr. Charles Kroger: That's right.
Monk: ...but you won't tell me.
Dr. Charles Kroger: That's right. Adrian, the answer is inside you.
Monk: No, doctor, the... answer is inside you. If you told me, I would hear it, and then the answer would be inside me!

Mr. Monk and the Very, Very Old Man

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Adrian Monk, have you studied the room?
Monk: Yes, I have.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Have you formed an opinion about the cause of Miles Holling's death?
Monk: Yes, I have.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: And what is your opinion, Adrian Monk?
Monk: He... was murdered. [into Stottlemeyer's cell phone] He was murdered, Karen.
Karen Stottlemeyer: I knew it!
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Sweetheart? I'm gonna strangle Monk, and then I'll call you right back.

Monk: So what do you think?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Well, why ask me? My hippie wife's a much better cop than I am.
Monk: Don't say that.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Look, I don't mind living in your shadow, Monk; you're a freak of nature.
Monk: Thank you.

[Monk jumps on top of the dining table to avoid a snake.]
Capt. Stottlemeyer: I thought you were afraid of heights.
Monk: Snakes trump heights. It goes: germs, needles, milk, death, snakes, mushrooms, heights, crowds, elevators...
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Okay, okay — I don't need the entire list.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: You win. I give up.
Monk: Excuse me?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: You know what I'm gonna do? First thing in the morning, I'm going to call the Vatican, and I'm gonna nominate your late wife, Trudy, for sainthood! Because *you* are IMPOSSIBLE!
Monk: The lines. They're all... diagonal! I have to live here!
Capt. Stottlemeyer: FORGET ABOUT THE RUG! THIS IS NOT ABOUT THE RUG! YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE?! Do you know what you are?! You're the world's best marriage counselor! You could save every marriage in California! All people would have to do is live with you for two days! Two days, and they'd never complain about their spouse again!

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Monk, I'm going to say something I've wanted to say for a long time.
Monk: What is it?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: I just solved the case.

Mr. Monk Goes to the Theater

Sharona: [watching Gail's performance] What do you think so far?
Monk: There’s no legroom. It’s so crowded.
Sharona: It’s supposed to be crowded. It’s sold out. You know, this play is going to New York. Can you believe it? My sister in an off-Broadway show?
Monk: So where is she?
Sharona: She’s in the next scene. She kills a guy.
Monk: I hope it’s the guy who designed these seats. [Gail enters]
Sharona: There she is. [From behind another door on stage, another actor, Hal Duncan, swings the door shut]
Hal Duncan: [as Bert] Hey, cuz. You miss me? [He picks up an apple and tosses it from hand to hand] Hope you don’t mind. I let myself in.
Gail Fleming: But you’re supposed to be in jail!
Hal Duncan: It’s funny that phrase, "supposed to be". I’m "supposed to be" in jail, you’re "supposed to be" waiting for me! [He makes air quotes with his fingers when saying "supposed to be"] A man can’t count on "supposed to be" the way he used to.
Gail Fleming: You know, my husband’s upstairs! If he hears you he’ll come down-
Hal Duncan: Your husband’s downtown drowning himself in scotch and soda! I saw him leave about an hour ago.
[Hal fusses with Gail’s blouse]
Gail Fleming: I’ve got some money in my purse! Why don’t you just take it and go?
Hal Duncan: You think I want your pocket change?! You think that’s why I came back?! [Hal overturns the table, spilling all of its contents on the stage. Gail screams and secretly pulls out a knife]
Hal Duncan: Who ordered the tossed salad? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! I came back for what’s mine.
Gail Fleming: You know, if you don’t leave, I’ll—
Hal Duncan: You’ll what? Huh? You’ll do nothin’! [takes a bite of the apple he is holding] Like I said, I’m here for what’s mine! [Gail stabs Hal with the prop knife. Hal screams, and staggers across the stage, obviously having a seizure]
Gail Fleming: Hal, are you okay? [Hal falls on the floor and starts having convulsions] Hal? Hal?

[Monk inspects the propmaster's toolbox]
O’Dell: Excuse me. What are you doing?
Monk: Uh, I was just…nothing.
O’Dell: Hey, don’t fiddle with the props. I’ve got to know where these are in the dark, by touch, at a moment’s notice. I’ve been juggling props for forty-four years. Ask me about the first prop I ever bought.
Monk: What was the…
O’Dell: The sword Richard Burton used in Camelot. I had to go to Scotland to get it.
Monk: Really? Wow. I’m, uh, I’m Adrian Monk, and this is Sh—she’s usually right here. This is a terrible week. I’ll bet.
O’Dell: Hey, that wasn’t my fault. The cops had me under the lights all night long. I told them…I put the prop knife on the set. We use two knives on this show. A real one, and one like this: [O’Dell pulls out and stabs himself with a prop knife]
Monk: Hey, whoa! [The knife retracts; O’Dell laughs]
O’Dell: Don’t wet yourself. The blade retracts into the handle. Gail must have switched the gag knife for the real one before the show.
Monk: May I? [He holds the prop knife up]
O’Dell: See? It doesn’t feel like a real knife at all, does it?
Monk: No.
O’Dell: She had to know she was holding a real knife. What happened onstage Sunday night, that was no accident. That was a woman scorned. “Hell hath no fury,” right?
Monk: And you’re sure you put a fake knife on the stage?
O’Dell: I swear. I put it there myself, half an hour before curtain.
Monk: And there was nobody else here?
O’Dell: Nope. Except Jenna. Jenna Ryan, Gail’s understudy. She was checking in. They check in before the show, see if anybody’s sick.

Monk: Speedy Dates? No. No, no. No, that's like... Dante's seventh circle of Hell.

Sharona: So, how'd the dating go?
Monk: Oh, it was terrible! Thank God I'm not single!
Sharona: You are single.
Monk: Oh, yeah.

[Monk is trying to use Sharona to reenact the crime scene, but Sharona is getting confused by Monk's directions]
Monk: You... you enter from the right...
Sharona: You mean the left. That's stage left.
Monk: But it's on the right.
Sharona: But it's stage left. That's what they call it.
[She shrugs at Monk's confusion.]
Sharona: My sister's an actress!
Monk: But- but- for the purposes of this recreation, let's just call it what they call it on Planet Earth.
Sharona: [sardonically] Like you would know.

Mr. Monk and the Sleeping Suspect

Sharona: Is that a new tie?
Lt. Disher: It's a gift from my girlfriend.
Sharona: She has very good taste. In ties, not in men.
Lt. Disher: Ooh — do I detect a hint of jealousy?
Sharona: If you do, it's the only detecting you've ever done.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Adrian Monk, old buddy, old pal, old chum.
Sharona: “Old buddy”? What have you done with the real Captain Stottlemeyer?
Monk: What do we have?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Mail bomb. An ounce and a half of plastique with a magnesium charge.
Lt. Disher: There were two triggers: a chemical detonator wired to the wrapping, and a motion detector—so when you opened it and moved it, "boom".
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Not hard to make.
Lt. Disher: Crude and unpredictable, actually.
Monk: Who’s the victim?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Amanda Babbage, thirty-five years old. She lived here alone.
Monk: Nice house.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: It was a lot nicer two hours ago.
Monk: [notices the ATF agents] The Feds are here?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yes, up the wazoo -- Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. They’re in charge, and they’re not shy about saying so. Monk, if you can make me look good here, I would really appreciate it. I’d love to show these bastards up. Wouldn’t hurt our careers either.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: What do you see?
Monk: [on Ricky] Oh, he’s not the guy. He definitely knew his sister lived here. He was at a barbecue here two weeks ago.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: But the package was mailed to the old address.
Monk: Right, and he said he tied the surfboard to the room himself. Look at these knots. They’re a mess. Crude, tangled, but the knot we saw inside on the bomb, was a work of art.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: So the feds—
Monk: Are barking up the wrong tree. You said there was another brother.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yeah, Brian, but he’s a dead end.
Lt. Disher: Or practically dead.
Sharona: What do you mean?
Lt. Disher: The guy’s in a coma.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: We saw it happen. Four months ago, he got t-boned by a pickup truck. Cracked his skull. It was really unnecessary. The guy just baited me and Randy and—and stepped on the gas.
Lt. Disher: It was my first car chase.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: That didn’t count. The guy didn’t go half a block. You didn’t get the car in gear!
Lt. Disher: It counted.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: It wasn’t a chase, Randy.
Lt. Disher: We ran to the car.
Monk: Anyway, uh…four months ago. So, he wouldn’t have known that his sister had moved.
Lt. Disher: [to Sharona] It counted.
Monk: I’d like to meet him.

[Monk thinks that comatose Brian Babbage is the killer]
Monk: He's the guy.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Who? [Monk indicates comatose Brian] Him? Monk, he's a vegetable! He's not even a vegetable! He hopes to one day be a vegetable!

[Agent Grooms kicks Stottlemeyer out of the interrogation room]
Capt. Stottlemeyer: I just got kicked out of my own interrogation room.
Lt. Disher: You want some coffee, sir?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: No, Randy. What I want is for that A.T.F. creep to eat crow!
Monk: Well, we know who did it, and we know why. We just don’t know how.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Monk, again, he’s in a coma.
Monk: He’s the guy.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: In twenty seconds, Agent Grooms is gonna come walking through that door, and he’s gonna ask me what I think. Give me something else, for the love of God.
Lt. Disher: Okay, wait. I have an idea. Maybe he had an accomplice.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yes, somebody else mailed the damn thing. Why not?
Sharona: I already had that idea. Tell him.
Monk: There was no accomplice. Why would Brian Babbage hire one? He didn’t know he was gonna be in a coma.
Sharona: It’s not exactly something you can plan.
Monk: All right. Anyway, why would an accomplice bother to go through with it? There was no reason to. The guy who hired him was in a coma.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: All right, so... Brian built the bomb, and then Brian mailed the bomb, by himself.
Monk: That's right.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: While he was in a coma.
Monk: [admiringly] You gotta admit — it's a pretty good alibi. It's rock solid!
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Monk, I have known 15,000 criminals in my lifetime. Here's what they all have in common: they're conscious!
Monk: Nonetheless.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Is your shrink coming back soon?

Mr. Monk Meets the Playboy

Capt. Stottlemeyer: That assistant, she called you?
Sharona: Mm-hmm. Diane Luden.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yeah, I gave her your name. I figured you’d collect a nice payday after you convinced her she was crazy.
Monk: Actually, I think she might be on to something.
Sharona: We’d like to look at the official file.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Look, there is no D’Souza case. It was an accident. The barbell slipped, crushed his trachea.
Lt. Disher: He was alone in his apartment on the thirty-fifth floor.
Monk: I know.
Lt. Disher: There was only one way up. It was a private elevator. Nobody else used it.
Monk: I know.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: The apartment was locked from the inside.
Monk: I know.
Sharona: Are you gonna be cooperating on this or not?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: If you two wanna go tilting at windmills, be my guests. But this time, Monk, you’re on your own.
Monk: Okay, forget it. Let’s go. What’s our first stop?
Sharona: Sapphire Mansion. We have an appointment. [This gets Randy's attention]
Lt. Disher: Sapphire Mansion? You have an appointment?
Monk: Yes. Elliot D’Souza controlled that magazine. He was about to pull the plug on Dexter Larsen. I think Larsen might be involved.
Lt. Disher: Saphhire Mansion. I’ve never been. Have you ever been?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Once. Ten years ago.
Sharona: Did your wife find out?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yeah, I told her. In therapy, we were playing the honesty game.
Lt. Disher: Red Roof Inn?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yup. This was before they built the new lobby.
Lt. Disher: You know, Captain. I think Monk might be on to something. Maybe we should tag along.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Lieutenant, I think you might be right.
Sharona: Oh, God.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Hey, I’m married. I’m not dead.
Sharona: Ugh.

Monk: [in Dexter Larsen's room] That's strange. Why would he need a mirror on the ceiling?
Sharona: Try not to think about that now.

Dexter Larsen: [about his life before publishing Sapphire] I was a nerd, publishing my little electronics magazine. I was the kind of guy a woman like you would never talk to.
Sharona: You still are.

[Monk is searching a car when Dexter Larsen spots him]
Dexter Larsen: Detective, caddie, car thief. You wear many hats, Mr. Monk. You, uh…you looking for something?
Monk: Did you drive this car, Mr. Larsen? Maybe Sunday morning?
Dexter Larsen: Why would you think that?
Monk: Somebody was smoking a cigar in here.
Dexter Larsen: Well, a lot of people smoke cigars, Mr. Monk.
Monk: Right, but the texture and size of this cigar ash are consistent with those from your precious Cubano de Oros.
Dexter Larsen: Hmmm.
Monk: How did you do it?
Dexter Larsen: You mean how did I, uh, rise from humble beginnings to achieve all of this?
Monk: No, no. I mean. How did you murder Elliot D’Souza?
Dexter Larsen: What are you talking about? There was no murder. Elliot was alone. The door was locked.
Monk: Right. How did you do it?
Dexter Larsen: You’ve taken a great interest in me, and the truth is I’ve taken an interest on you too, and your friend Sharona. May I show you something? [produces a photograph from an envelope] My research staff is first rate. She must have been nineteen, maybe twenty. You know what? Th…that’s…that’s my favorite age. Hungry with no inhibitions. These were taken in Atlantic City. She was using a different name, but my lawyers assure me that the release that she signed is solid. I can publish them anytime I want.
Monk: What kind of man are you?
Dexter Larsen: I told you on the golf course, Mr. Monk. I do not lose. Now Sharona, she has a son, how old is he now?
Monk: He is twelve.
Dexter Larsen: Twelve. That’s an impressionable age. I think we understand each other, don’t we? Any more questions about what happened to Elliott?
Monk: No.
Dexter Larsen: You can let yourself out.

[Dexter finds the police at his house; Stottlemeyer, Monk and Sharona are waiting for him in his dining room]
Dexter Larsen: What the hell is going on? [Stottlemeyer gives him a search warrant]
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Dexter Larsen, that’s a warrant, duly sworn, authorizing us to search your house.
Woman: Dex, I tried to call you. They’ve been here an hour. They’ve been looking everywhere!
Dexter Larsen: Looking for what?
Monk: Looking... for proof that you killed Elliot D’Souza.
Dexter Larsen: Mr. Monk, are you serious? [notices that his Carvasia is lying on the dining room table] My Carvasia. I told you not to touch that!
Monk: Sorry, I’ll get it. [He starts to grab for it]
Dexter Larsen:' No! No! Don’t touch it. I’ll do it. It’s very valuable. [He tries to pick it up off the table, but it doesn't budge; Sharona stares at Dexter oddly]
Sharona: Is there a problem?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: What’s wrong? Pick it up. Can’t weigh more than fifteen pounds.
Dexter Larsen: All right. What did you do? Did you glue it down?
Monk:' Excuse me, if I may. [He picks it up with ease] No, not glued. Your turn. [Dexter tries to pick it up again, but it is stuck to the table] We found it, Dexter.
Dexter Larsen: Found what?
Sharona: The magnet that you built. [Stottlemeyer moves aside a dining table chair, revealing that Randy is holding a large magnet to the underside of the table]
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Randy, you can come out now, unless you’re enjoying yourself down there. [Randy gets up, carrying the large magnet with him]
Dexter Larsen: What’s this supposed to be?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: What, you don’t recognize that? We found it in your workshop. It had fingerprints all over it. [to Monk] Go ahead.

Mr. Monk and the 12th Man

Mrs. Ling: You come back anytime, Mr. Babcock. You good customer, 'cause you don't complain.
Lt. Disher: Ma'am, he just killed eleven people.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Twelve. Let's not forget about the first Mrs. Babcock, who I'll bet is buried under that new porch.
Mrs. Ling: Yeah, well... he still good customer. Not crazy like that Mr. Monk over there.

[Monk and Sharona talk to handyman Ian Agnew about his lawsuit against the Babcocks]
Monk: Thank you for seeing us.
Ian Agnew: Oh, I don't mind. I don't get many visitors. So what can I do for you?
Monk: Mr. Agnew, we were wondering about your accident.
Ian Agnew: Please, sit down. [he appears to have a rather sudden pained reaction, possibly from the pipe]
Sharona: [concerned] Ian, I used to be a nurse. Is there anything I can do?
Ian Agnew: No, thank you. Comes and goes. It's the pipe. [points to the protruding piece of metal pipe] I have a piece of pipe in my head. [pauses] I don't get many visitors! Please sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit!...
Monk: Sir, about your accident.
Ian Agnew: Ah, the accident. I really don't remember much about it. We were building a cabana near the pool for the Babcocks. And I was working on the roof and there was a tile loose. And the next thing I knew, I woke up and I was a human smokestack. [laughs] I'll get it! [picks up the phone] Hello! Hello! Must be the wrong number. [to Monk and Sharona] HOW'S THAT COFFEE? [shouts at an empty spot on the floor] BAD DOG!
[He turns back to Monk and Sharona]
Ian Agnew: I haven't worked since.
Monk: Huh. How did you get the job?
Ian Agnew: Mrs. Babcock hired me. Although by the time I had started, she wasn't there anymore. They split up, she ran off, I never got the full story. I dealt mostly with her husband, Stew. I'll get it. [He picks up the phone again, about to talk to another imaginary caller] You know, I just changed my phone number, and it doesn't seem to help. I don't get many visitors!
Sharona: Did you go to the trial?
Ian Agnew: I testified.
Sharona: Did you spend any time with the jury?
Ian Agnew: No, ma'am. I wish I had. I wanted to thank them, they were very generous. I don't get many visitors! [singing] Daisy, Daisy, tell me your answer true! [turns back to the empty spot on the floor] BAD DOG! [then back to Monk and Sharona]
Ian Agnew: You know what I think I miss the most? [points to the pipe] Not having this pipe in my head. I have to take this. [picks up the phone again]
Ian Agnew: Hello. Hello.
Sharona: [to Monk] I believe you're not the craziest man in the world.
Ian Agnew: [talking to the imaginary caller] How did you get this number?
Monk: We'll let ourselves out.
Ian Agnew: Tell me who this is right now! [Monk and Sharona walk out] Well I don't believe that for a minute!

[Monk and Sharona have arrived at the toll plaza]
Monk: Handcuffed?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Handcuffed to one wrist and tied to seventy-feet of rope.
Monk: Ugh, God!
Capt. Stottlemeyer: And then he was dragged west seven-tenths of a mile. I just saw the body. Or what’s left of it.
Sharona: Oh, God.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: The M.E. said he’s never seen anything like it. There’s no end to it.
Monk: What do you mean?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: I mean, this is number nine. Nine bizarre murders in the past two weeks. Every time my beeper goes off, my heart skips a beat.
Monk: Are they connected?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: No. No connection at all. I mean, four have been men, five women, all different ages. Latino, white, black.
Monk: And the M.O.’s?
Capt. Stottlemeyer:' All different. There’s been a couple of shootings, different weapons, a hit-and-run, a drowning, an electrocution. I mean, it’s, it’s like a full moon every night!
Monk: And you’re sure that the cases have absolutely nothing in common?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Well, they have one thing in common, Monk. We can’t solve them. I swear, there’s something in the water.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: [noticing that the officers have all gathered around Sharona] Hey! Hey, guys. What is this, a high school dance? Give the girl some room. Let her breathe. [Sharona comes over] Come here. I want to talk to you. I understand that you are seeing Kenny Shale.
Sharona: Oh, it’s nothing serious.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yes, it is. I wanna tell you something, Sharona. Your life is about to change. Everybody you know is gonna want a piece of you. You’re not gonna know who to trust. Monk can’t help you with this, all right?
Sharona: Mmm-hmm.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: He’s, he’s brilliant, but he’s Monk. He’s lost in Monkland.
Sharona: Mmm-hmm.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Now, I’ve been where you are. I’ve been in the spotlight. And, well here. I want you to take that. [hands Sharona a card]
Sharona: What is it?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: That’s my cell phone number, okay? You call me 24/7 if you need anything. Yeah, I just don’t want to see you get hurt.
Sharona: Oh, thanks a lot. Thanks.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yeah. Oh, I was thinking, um, maybe we could get together, do a double date kind of thing. Me and Karen, you and Kenny? I’ve always liked Kenny. Kenny, he’s—he’s a good guy. He’s good people.
Sharona: You called him a weasel!
Capt. Stottlemeyer: No, I didn't.
Sharona: Yeah, you did. Three weeks ago.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: I never said "weasel." I said he was a... "woof." Oh, yeah, I said "weasel." I called him a weasel, but you see, that's not a bad thing. I had a weasel. A weasel is a noble animal, all right? It's a term of endearment. [to a passing cop] Jerry! Hey, how are you doing, you weasel? Good to see you! [turns back to Sharona] See, I call everybody a weasel.

Lt. Disher: Captain! [hands a file to Stottlemeyer] Washington just sent this down. It's a prelim psych profile. :[Stottlemeyer puts the file folder to his forehead]
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Let me guess: the killer is between 30 and 45 years old, white male, does not work in an office, probably spent time in the military, and definitely hates his mother. [hands the file back to Randy]
Lt. Disher: How did you know that?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: 'Cause that's what they always say. That's scrap paper. [Monk is looking at a board of victims' photos] What about the ten dollar bills? Anything on them?
Lt. Disher: They’re from a bank in San Mateo, Wells Fargo, untraceable.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Of course they are. [addresses the other detectives] All right, everybody, listen up! Listen up! We’re not gonna find him flailing in the dark. Let’s communicate, keep each other briefed. We’re going dumpster diving. We’re gonna-[stops as he notices Randy putting up a sheet of paper on the crime board]
Capt. Stottlemeyer: What are you doing? What is that?
Lt. Disher: I’m leaving a space for the next victim.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Take that down. Take it down! [Randy does so] There is no "next victim". We’re stopping the son of a bitch at ten.

Mr. Monk and the Paperboy

Monk: Why do you torture me like this?
Sharona: Because I can.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Listen to this: this is "News from Around the World," Paris, France. There is an unsolved murder; a woman was found strangled, and both of her hands were cut off.
Sharona: Oh my God!
Lt. Disher: That happens all the time: no fingerprints. Makes it harder to ID the body.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Now here's the thing: they found the hands. They were a couple of meters away from the body in the grass.
Monk: The killer cut off both hands, but then left them near the body?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yeah. She and her husband both worked as curators at the prison museum in the Bastille.
Monk: Prison museum?
[cuts to a Paris police prefecture. A police lieutenant comes into his captain's office]
Lieutenant Lafitte: [in French] Captain Dupres, there is a detective calling from America. He has solved the murder of Madame Beaudreau.
Captain Dupres: [in French] He solved it?
Lieutenant Lafitte: [in French] By reading a newspaper, from 9,000 kilometers away! [Dupres sighs and picks up the phone]
Captain Dupres: Captain Dupres, Prefecture de Police. [cuts to Monk's apartment]
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Bonjour. Je m'appelle Captain Leland Stottlemeyer. Je--je travaille avec le...department de police de San Francisco. Uhhhh, parlez-vous...English? ["Hello, my name is Captain Leland Stottlemeyer. I work for the department of police of San Francisco. Do you speak English"]
Captain Dupres: I speak enough. What can I do for you?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Uh, hi, I've got a friend. His name is Adrian Monk.
Monk: [into the phone] Bonjour.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: He has a theory about an unsolved case of yours. Here, I'll put him on. [hands the phone to Monk] He speaks English well enough. [Monk wipes down the phone, pressing several of the other buttons]
Monk: Yes, yes, hello. I think I know who killed Madame Beaudreau.
Captain Dupres: [skeptically] Oui, Monsieur Monk, what is your theory?
Monk: I think her husband did it.
Captain Dupres: Well, we suspected him from the beginning. But why did he cut off her hands?
Monk: He must have used a pair of handcuffs from the museum to restrain her.
Captain Dupres: I do not follow you.
Monk: They were antique handcuffs, very distinctive, so they could easily have been traced back to him.
Captain Dupres: Mon Dieu...
Monk: He must have lost the key. So he was desperate, he had to get them off the body.
Captain Dupres: Well, that makes sense! Lafitte, why didn't I think of that? Monsieur Monk, you are a genius! Perhaps someday, you will come to Paris so I can thank you in person.

[Monk, Sharona, Stottlemeyer and Disher arrive at a body shop to arrest a businessman named Malcolm Cowley for a hit-and-run death]
Malcolm Cowley: Is there a problem?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: I was reading about you in the newspaper. [Shows the copy of the paper to Cowley] That's you, isn't it? "It Just Wasn't His Day." It says here that you had two accidents in the course of ten minutes: first you hit a little tree, and then you drove another half a mile and hit a lamppost.
Malcolm Cowley: That's right. Is that a crime?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Uh, yeah, it is if you were intentionally damaging your car so you wouldn't have to explain a smashed-in grille. See, Mr. Monk found this other article. [turns to a front page article] "Hit-and-Run Driver Kills a Grandmother." Same neighborhood. Same approximate time. We thought there might be a connection.
Lt. Disher: [looking at Cowley's car's headlights] Captain. Blood.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Turn around. Put your hands on the car. [Cowley complies and Stottlemeyer handcuffs him] You sir, are under arrest, for vehicular manslaughter, leaving the scene of a crime, and for the murder of Nestor Alvarez. Come with me. :[He starts to lead Cowley away]
Monk: He's not the guy.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: What? Monk, we've got him dead to rights.
Monk: He is guilty of the hit-and-run, but he didn't kill the paperboy. He didn't know who I was. There is something else in this newspaper, something I'm missing. [He drops the newspaper, disgusted, realizing that he has accidentally wiped his hands with a garage rag, smearing them with oil.] Oh, my God! Oh, the humanity!

[Disher walks into Stottlemeyer's office while Stottlemeyer does work on his laptop]
Lt. Disher: Captain, I have a thought. [Stottlemeyer doesn't look up, and waves his fingers] About paperboy. [Stottlemeyer continues gesturing with his fingers]
Capt. Stottlemeyer: This means "hurry up".
Lt. Disher: It was a burglary; the paperboy interrupted a B&E in progress. It fits: there were five break-ins on that block last year alone.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: [stands up] Nope. I already looked into that. All of those break-ins were hot prowlers - forced entry with a crowbar.
Lt. Disher: Right.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Our guy was empty-handed.
Lt. Disher: What about a car thief?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Well, that doesn't explain the taking of the newspapers, doesn't it? [He puts on his overcoat]
Lt. Disher: Right. So we're back to Monk's theory?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: I'm afraid so. [shows Randy the door] And this means "we're leaving".

[Monk, Sharona, Stottlemeyer and Disher are at the scene of the store clerk's death]
Monk: When did it happen?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: The M.E. is saying two and a half, three hours. He worked as the night manager at the Stop 'n Go on Ridgedale.
Sharona: Oh my God, we were just there! That's where we bought the newspaper. [to Randy] Along with your letter in it to me.
Lt. Disher: It wasn't to you!
Capt. Stottlemeyer: His shift ended at 4:00 AM, he came here to make the night deposit. He got jumped by the killer, stabbed twice: once in the neck, once in the stomach, with that bottle. [Monk looks at the remains of a bottle]
Monk: No prints on the bottle?
Lt. Disher: Nothing yet.
Monk: Surveillance camera?
Lt. Disher: Negative. It's over by the ATM, facing the wrong way. It didn't see a thing. [Stottlemeyer turns to Monk]
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Now what I can't get over, is that we haven't had a homicide in this neighborhood for over four years, all of a sudden we've got two: first your newspaper boy, killed for a newspaper, and now this robbery.
Monk: No, this was no robbery.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: But the killer took the money.
Monk: The killer wants us to think robbery. But why wouldn't he do it in a more secluded spot? He could have killed him anywhere between here and the store.
Lt. Disher: Well maybe the killer just waited for him here by the bank.
Monk: No. No, the killer had to have followed the victim from the store. [points at the bottle] Cream soda bottle. You can't find that brand anywhere else.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Well how do you know the victim wasn't drinking it? He worked at the Stop 'n Go.
Monk: That's true. [Sharona examines the bottle]
Sharona: It's a woman. There's lipstick on the bottle. [Monk and Stottlemeyer squat and see some lipstick towards the bottom of the bottle]
Monk: How did I miss that?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: She's stronger and smarter than you.

Mr. Monk and the Three Pies

Sharona: [answers phone] Hello? No, I'm Sharona, his assistant. Who's this? Hold on, please. [to Monk] Adrian? You have a brother?
[Everyone looks up, surprised. Long pause.]
Monk: No.
Sharona: [into phone] I'm sorry, sir, you must have the wrong Adrian Monk.
[She hangs up. Immediately, the phone starts ringing again.]
Monk: Wait, wait... I might have a brother.
Sharona: You told me you were an only child.
Monk: I consider myself an only child. We're not close! He has issues.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: [raised eyebrow] Your brother has issues?
Monk: Don't you people have work to do?! There's a dead woman over there!

Sharona: Ambrose, come with us.
Ambrose Monk: Outside? Oh no, I can't.
Sharona: You're just gonna hide in this house for the rest of your life?
Ambrose Monk: That's my plan, yes.

[Adrian introduces Sharona to Ambrose]
Monk: This is my assistant, Sharona.
Ambrose Monk: Hello, we spoke on the phone.
Monk: Oh, so you can dial a telephone! I was worried. I thought you might be paralyzed, or something.
Ambrose Monk: I wasn't paralyzed.
Monk: I was being sarcastic.
Ambrose Monk: You were being sardonic. Sarcasm is a contemptuous ironic statement. You were being mockingly derisive. That's sardonic.

[after meeting Ambrose, Sharona hugs Adrian]
Monk: What's that for?
Sharona: For making my family seem normal.

Monk: He [van Ranken] was at the park all last night.
Sharona: Maybe to bury something.
Ambrose Monk: Yes, he was parked by the southern entrance.
Sharona: How do you know that?
Ambrose Monk: It's obvious. Why don't you tell her, Adrian?
Monk: Um...
Ambrose Monk: The yellow acorns on his truck, which can only mean he was parked under a spotted oak tree...
Sharona: Wow.
Ambrose Monk: Which are found...
Monk: Um...
Ambrose Monk: Near water...
Sharona: Wow.
Ambrose Monk: Which means, he parked by the river, at the southern entrance.
Sharona: Wow!
Monk: Please stop staying "wow."
Ambrose Monk: This detective stuff is easy.
Sharona: Looks like you got a new partner.
Monk: Yeah, for any crime committed within thirty feet of this property.

Mr. Monk and the T.V. Star

[Monk tries to recreate the murder of Susan Malloy, and has Sharona play the victim]
Sharona: I think you enjoy shooting and stabbing me.
Monk: No, I don't enjoy it. But it's my job.

[Monk solves the case]
Monk: Oh, my God. I think I know what happened here. Sharona, you're not going to like this. Just-just try to keep an open mind, hear me out...
Sharona: [sadly] He did it, didn't he?

Mr. Monk and the Missing Granny

[Stottlemeyer and Monk are interrogating Ron Abrash, a suspect in a kidnapping.]
Monk: You look familiar, Ronnie. Didn't I see you last week at the opera?
Ron Abrash: What have you been smokin', man?
Monk: I've been smokin' THE TRUTH, MAN!
Ron Abrash: What, are you guys playing? "Good cop, crazy cop?"

Granny Parlo: And--and it was raining.
Sharona: Are you sure? It wasn't raining all last week.
Granny Parlo: Listen, missy. I think I know what rain feels like. And that's what I felt when they carried me from the van into the house.

Lt. Disher: Okay, cool. It'll be the three of us. We can do good cop, bad cop, worse cop.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Randy, it's a two-man job. Just wait here.
Lt. Disher: Okay. I'll just wait here and--
Sharona: Weep openly.
Lt. Disher: --do some paperwork.
Sharona: While you weep openly.

[An old woman, actually Randy wearing a wig and some makeup, walks up to Monk and Sharona at the homeless shelter's serving counter]
Monk: Oh my God!
Sharona: [sees through the disguise] What are you supposed to be?
Lt. Disher: I'm undercover. I'm homeless.
Sharona: What's that on your face?
Lt. Disher: Dirt.
Sharona: [to Monk] Give the lady some gravy. [Monk does so].

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Okay, we've got two short hours until this phone call. Are we ready?
Phone Technician: Well we're all set, Captain. We've got two tape recorders and we've got the phone company online for an immediate track and trace.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: How long do we need?
Phone Technician: Well, if it's a landline, we've got 'em. If it's a cell phone...
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Which it will be.
Phone Technician: ...we'll need 45 seconds.
[Julie Parlo finds Stottlemeyer]
Julie Parlo: Excuse me, Captain Stottlemeyer?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yep.
Julie Parlo: Hi, I'm Julie Parlo. Uh, where is the FBI? This is a kidnapping. I happen to be a lawyer, so I know that in a kidnapping situation the FBI has jurisprudence.
Lt. Disher: That's only true if your grandmother's been taken across the state lines-
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Or if she's been held for more than 24 hours. And I think you meant to say "jurisdiction." What kind of lawyer are you?

Mr. Monk and the Captain's Wife

[Stottlemeyer prepares to lead a raid on the transportation union's headquarters]
Lt. Disher: Captain! That was Monk!
[everyone freezes]
Lt. Disher: He said he solved the case.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: He what?
Lt. Disher: He says it's not a union thing.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Is he sure?
Lt. Disher: He's Monk.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Did Adrian Monk just jump into a garbage truck?

Mr. Monk Gets Married

Sharona: Have you been drinking?
Lt. Disher: Yes, I have. I couldn't think of any other way to get all this Scotch into my body.

Sharona: Adrian, you have to sit. This is a picnic.
Monk: I - I don't sit on the ground. Animals do things on the ground - terrible, terrible things.

Sharona: We're never going to get away with this! They're never going to believe we're really married.
Monk: We have nothing in common. I annoy you all the time. Why wouldn't they believe it?

Monk: I can't sleep with a crooked shelf in the room.
Sharona: Well, when you turn the light off you won't see it.
Monk: I wish you could hear yourself sometimes! You live in a dream world.

Mr. Monk Goes to Jail

[Two officers discuss an inmate who will be executed soon]
Warden Christie: Where's Ray Kaspo?
Guard: In the holding cell, having his last meal. Ribs and chili.
Warden Christie: Ribs and chili? That might kill him before we do.

Monk: It seems prison agrees with you, Dale.
Dale "The Whale" Biederbeck: Well, why wouldn't it? After all, [indicates his stomach] I've been inside this prison all my life.
Monk: That's very poetic.
Dale "The Whale" Biederbeck: Of course, it doesn't compare with the prison you built for yourself.

Dale "The Whale" Biederbeck: I want to make you an offer...
Sharona: Oh please, drop dead!
Dale "The Whale" Biederbeck: Well, you'd think I would have by now, wouldn't you? [laughs].

[while pretending to be a convict, Monk tapes a picture of Trudy to his cell wall]
Spyder Rudner: Is that your old lady?
Monk: Yes.
Spyder Rudner: Is she waiting for you?
Monk: Yes, she is.

Spyder Rudner: All right, Adolf, let him go!
Lody: It's not about you, Spyder!
Spyder Rudner: The guy's a friend of mine.
Lody: He's a cop!
Spyder Rudner: Yeah, so I've heard. Let him go.
Lody: You'd side with a cop over us?
Spyder Rudner: I'd side with a cucaracha over you.