Blinky: You sent for us, Morty?
Chief: Stop calling me that. I'm the chief. Say that. Say "Chief."
Solies: What's up, Chef?
Chief: Close enough. There's a disturbance on the Common. Check it out and report back, and stop eating my candies, Blinky!
Blinky: (covered in chocolate) Morry, Mief.
Solies: Do we get a new squad car?
Chief: No, they fished your last car out of the lake and it's running, so you'll be using that.
Blinky: How come when Steve wrecked his car, he got a new one!
Chief: Because he bought himself a new one. He doesn't work for the department. He doesn't have to answer to the city council for every paperclip he uses. He doesn't have to clean up after subordinates who think duck ponds are suitable parking spaces! (Chief's voice is rising and he's turning red...) He doesn't have...
While the chief's mouth is open, Blinky sticks a chocolate in it, causing the chief to choke. In the confusion...
Solies and Blinky: Solies and Blinky are on the case!
Solies and Blinky break out laughing and make a quick getaway.
It's a beautiful day on the common. Birds are singing. Kids are playing, but as Blinky and Solies approach, they notice the large crowd gathered. They head towards it. They hear the wailing first:
Unseen Wailer: Alas for the sun. Its beats down on my brow. Harken not to the light. It cuts me. It tears me. I long for the temperate moon!
Some spectators notice Blinky and Solies making their way through the crowd and start to swoon, although it could be the heat. Blinky stops to sign autographs as Solies makes his way to the center of the crowd. Solies pushes past a drooling Emma who is so riveted, she doesn't even notice him, to see the wailer, a brawny, bronzed man wearing a viking helmet, a loincloth, and a leather sack with the strap drapped across his manly chest. His muscles glow in the bright sunlight, and his skin glows with dewey persperation. He is kneeling on a sword, obviously his own, driven deep in the ground, a testament to his strength and his suffering. The ornately carved hilt is blinding as it catches the sun on its pristinely polished surface. His face is a portrait in suffering, chiseled, and strong, but obviously tortured. He is still wailing.
Solies: He's a viking?
Blinky: (catches up) Truly?
Solies: (surveying the scene with a critical eye) More "madly," I think.
Blinky and Solies: Hmmmmm.
Freeze frame -- End Act I -- roll commercial