I live above a bowling alley and below another bowling alley.
Forget about the badge. WHEN DO WE GET THE FREAKIN' GUNS???
Hey, hey, I already told you: You don't get a gun until you tell me your name.
Some fun theories.
Tomorrow morning, when Allison comes out of her house, we spray her with the hose, soaking her from head to toe, leaving us relatively dry.
The finger thing means the taxes.