Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or any of its wonderful characters. The right belongs to Mr. Steve Franks! And nor do I own The Writer's Toolbox.

Hey guys! So, in honor of the Summer Finale of Psych tonight, I thought I'd surprise you all with a new chapter of Prank-Calling Lassie. Hope you enjoy!

INT. Psych Office. Day.

(SHAWN and GUS are busy setting up the table for the Prank-Calling War. However, every time GUS sets an object on the table, SHAWN places it on one of the chairs. When GUS places the objects back on the table, SHAWN puts another object on one of the chairs. This continues for a few moments until…)

GUS: Okay, what are you doing?

SHAWN: What?

GUS: Stop moving things.

SHAWN: Uh, Gus, you're moving things too. I put something on the chair, you move it. I put something else on the chair, you move it. I put sometime else on the chair –

(Gus cuts him off)

GUS: Shawn.

SHAWN: Yes, buddy?

GUS: Why are you moving things?

SHAWN: I like them on the chairs, Gus. A little change of scenery wouldn't kill you.

(GUS gives SHAWN a quizzical look before realization dawns on his face)

GUS: …You're trying to mess with me, aren't you? Get under my skin or something so I'll lose.

SHAWN (mock offense): Gus, how dare you. How could you possibly think I would stoop so low as to sabotage my best friend?

(GUS is unfazed and glares at SHAWN for a moment before saying…)

GUS: Pineapple dumplings.

SHAWN: Okay, Gus, seriously? You think a delicious morsel of a pineappley treat such as the delectable pineapple dumplings means more to me that our friendship? Mr. Guster, I am offended. I am offended by the very notion.


GUS: Wow. I didn't know you felt that way. I am genuinely sorry.

SHAWN: Yeah, well, you should be. I worked very hard yesterday on that pineapples foster, and now you won't even take time to show me the respect

(GUS cuts him off)

GUS: Okay, too much.

SHAWN: Yeah, you're right. Let's just get on with this, shall we?

(SHAWN and GUS collectively take all the objects off the chairs and place them on the table. They sit down, and before them are laid out the phone, The Writer's Toolbox, 1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple, and a timer.)

GUS: But we gotta make this quick. I'm supposed to meet Lassiter at five so he can coach me in arm-wrestling.

SHAWN (disgusted): Oh, dude, you're not actually going through with that, are you?

GUS: It's either that or he finds out we've been prank-calling him, and then the Chief stops giving us cases.

SHAWN: Yeah, but at least tell him you're sick or something.

GUS: I will not lie, Shawn. I'm above that.

SHAWN: Fine, go meet with Lassiter. Touch his hands and get rabies or mange or whatever it is he's got going for him.

GUS: He's not a dog, Shawn.

SHAWN: Um, his name's Lassie.

(GUS makes as if to say something, thinks better of it and keeps his mouth closed)

GUS: Never mind. Can we just get on with this, please?

(GUS doesn't wait for an answer. He reaches into The Writer's Toolbox and pulls out a popsicle stick that says…)

GUS (cont'd): "The time he caught a fly ball."

SHAWN: Ouch. That one's gonna hurt you, buddy.

GUS: What? You don't think I can come up with something clever for this?

SHAWN: Well, I mean, face it.

(SHAWN slings an arm around GUS's shoulder)

SHAWN (cont'd): That phrase is really for professionals. And, well, you should probably just forfeit now.

(GUS pushes SHAWN's arm away)

GUS: Get your damn hands off me.

SHAWN: Oh, what, you'll touch Lassie's hands but not mine?

GUS: Okay, seriously. Can we get off the subject of Lassiter's hands?

SHAWN: Whatever you say, buddy. You gonna make the call or what?

GUS: I'm thinking.

SHAWN (confused): About?

GUS: About how to use the phrase.

SHAWN: Well, I would go with standard English, but if you want to mix it up and use Mandarin or Eskimo, I say go for it, my lopsided friend.

GUS (after a beat): Lopsided?

SHAWN: Yes. Lopsided.

GUS: What are you talking about?

SHAWN: Um, hello, Gus. Your head.

GUS: My head? My head is not lopsided. My head is perfectly spherical.

SHAWN (snorting): Yeah, you wish.

GUS: If anything, your head is lopsided.

SHAWN: Oh, please. This head? I beg to differ.

GUS: Beg all you want, but it's true.

SHAWN: Okay, will you stop stalling. You've either got an idea or you don't. Either way, make the call.

GUS: You bet your butt I've got an idea.

(GUS picks up the phone)

SHAWN: "Bet your butt"? Well, that's just foolish. Who ever came up with that phrase? Why would someone bet their own rumpus? How would they pay the bookie?

GUS: Shawn. Just time the call.

SHAWN: Right, buddy.

(As GUS dials the number, SHAWN times the call while subsequently checking the shape of his head in the reflection of the television screen)

INT. SBPD. Lassiter's Empty Desk. Day.

(The phone on Lassiter's desk rings until the answering machine kicks on)

MACHINE: You've reached Head Detective Carlton Lassiter. I'm not here right now because I'm out solving crime. Leave a message.


Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

(GUS hangs up)

SHAWN: Again? Is he never at the Station anymore?

GUS: Guess not.

SHAWN: Call his mobile.

(GUS deadpans at SHAWN)

SHAWN (cont'd): What?

GUS: Mobile? Really?


GUS: We're not in Europe, Shawn. It's called a cellphone.

SHAWN: I've heard it both ways.


GUS: Just time the call.

SHAWN: I'm on it, buddy.

(GUS dials again)

INT. SBPD. Shooting Range. Days.

(LASSITER, with fierce intent, fires off a few bullets into his designated target. Upon feeling his cellphone vibrate in his pocket, he put down his Glock, pulls out his phone and answers it.)

LASSITER: Lassiter.

GUS (in a high-pitched female voice): Oh, hey, Louisa. It's Margret. You know, I was just thinking today about how fast our boys have grown up!

LASSITER: Um, ma'am.

GUS: I mean, now they're off in college. Where did the time go, right?


GUS: And tell Sam I said congratulations –


GUS: on his baseball scholarship! Remember the time he caught a fly ball when he was only two? Was that foreshadowing or what?

(When LASSITER still can't get the "lady" to stop talking, he puts the phone down, picks up his Glock and fires five shots into the target)

Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

(GUS jumps in surprise at the sudden burst of sound)

GUS: What the hell?


(LASSITER puts down the gun and picks up the phone. All is quiet on the other end.)

LASSITER: Ma'am, listen to me. I don't know who you are, but you've dialed the wrong number. My name is Carlton Lassiter, and I'm Head Detective at the Santa Barbara Police Department. And, believe it or not, I'm currently in a pretty foul mood which is why I'm down at the shooting range. So, I'm gonna offer you some advice. I suggest you hang up before I fire off more shots and permanently damage your hearing. Got it?

(CLICK on the line as GUS quickly hangs up)


Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

(GUS looks physically shaken)

GUS: T-time.

SHAWN: 57 seconds. Respectable, but then again, you're dealing with a pro who will inevitably crush your time into dust.

GUS: Shawn, I don't think you should call Lassie. He's in a really bad mood.

SHAWN: Gus, it's Lassie. He's trapped in a perpetual vortex of bad moods. It's nothing that I can't handle.

GUS: No. Seriously.

SHAWN: Seriously, Gus, I got this.

(SHAWN reaches into The Writer's Toolbox and pulls out a popsicle stick that says…)

SHAWN (cont'd): "The time Leslie called me a leech." Cake.

GUS: What? That's easy for you?

SHAWN: Oh, no, see what I meant was that when I kick your ass and win this round, I want pineapple upside-down cake.

(GUS means to say something but thinks better of it)

GUS: Whatever. Just do your thing and make Lassiter mad so that Chief Vick won't give us cases anymore.

SHAWN: Dude, why are you always on that?

GUS: I don't know. Maybe it's because I enjoy having a source of income. Or maybe it's because I've never been fired from a job before, and I'd rather have an unmarred record. Or maybe, just maybe, it's because Lassiter is a nice guy who I respect, and it'd be decent of you to cut the man a break every now and then.

(SHAWN contemplates this for a moment)

SHAWN: No, it can't be that last one.

(GUS scoffs)

GUS: You're unbelievable.

SHAWN: Oh, Gus, calm down. I told you, I got this. Would you trust me? We've been friends since, like, pre-birth. That has to count for something. Just trust me.


GUS: Alright, fine. Make the call.

(SHAWN smiles)

SHAWN: Thanks, buddy.

(SHAWN dials while GUS times the call)

INT. SBPD. Lassiter's Empty Desk. Day.

(The phone on Lassiter's desk rings several times before the machine picks up)

MACHINE: You've reached Head Detective Carlton Lassiter. I'm not here right now because I'm out solving crime. Leave a message.


SHAWN: Hey, Lassie! It's Sh- … Well, I was just calling to say how much I missed you… Whoa, hey, calm down there, Lassie-Pants. I heard you were in a bit of a bad mood, and I thought you could use the help of your favorite psychic!... No, I haven't solved the Jack the Ripper murders. I'm gonna leave that one up to you, buddy… Whoa, whoa, hey, take it easy. Pop a chill pill. I actually called to apologize… Yes, apologize, Lassie. I know that's a foreign concept to you… I'm sorry, that was insensitive. (Beat) Look, I guess what I'm saying is that I'm trying to be a better man, so I just wanted to apologize for all the crap I've put you through these last few years… Why, you ask, am I suddenly turning my life around? Well, Lassie, I am so glad you asked that question. I guess my epiphany came about the time Leslie called me a leech. It hurt, man. It hurt bad. And I realized how you must feel, what with all the torment I've put you through. So, I'm taking the first steps to becoming a better man… Well, thank you, Carlton. You're okay too. You have a good day now. Drive fast and take risks… I'm just kidding. Be safe…. Goodbye, Carlton.

(CLICK on the line as SHAWN hangs up)

(BEEP indicates the message has been saved)

Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

SHAWN: Time.

GUS: 1 minute, 50 seconds.

SHAWN: Ha! See, Gus, I told you I know how to handle Lassie.

GUS: Wow, Shawn. I'm very impressed. Good for you for wanting to be a better man.

SHAWN: Why, thank you.

GUS: And you know what? I would be honored to cook you a pineapple upside-down cake. I'm happy you're going to turn your life around.

SHAWN: That means a lot, Gus.

GUS: Anytime, Shawn.

(GUS remains oblivious to the major con SHAWN pulled him as he takes 1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple into the kitchen and begins to cook)

(SHAWN stifles his snickering as he makes an invisible tally-mark in the air)

So, there you have it! Another chapter down. I hope you guys liked it. I enjoyed writing Shawn cheating! It seemed a very Shawn thing to do. Anyway, please leave a review and let me know what you thought.

And I did mention this in the chapter previous to this, but I thought I'd say it again. For a few years now, the creators of Psych have been in talks to do a musical episode. It was originally scheduled to happen this year (season 5), however, since Steve Franks wants to write all original songs for the episode, he ran out of time to do so. So the episode has been officially scheduled for next year (season 6). But, since we all know that plans fall though (ex. Psych was supposed to start of this season with a 3D episode, but the plans fell through), I created a Facebook group called "We Want A Psych Musical Episode!" to raise support and show the creators that there is a fan base out here who would love to see the episode come to fruition. I would be extremely appreciative of anyone who would take the time to join. Please! It's for a great cause!

Anyway, please drop a review on your way out. I love hearing from you guys! You guys are really the best!