Disclaimer: The characters of Starsky & Hutch (and others therein) don't belong to me. Just having a little fun.
TWISTED
A Bit of an Extended Ending to the
Episode "Captain Dobey, You're Dead"
By: Vanessa Sgroi
"I'm tellin' you, Starsk, eatin' that stuff is gonna mess you up." Detective Ken Hutchinson looked at his partner and grimaced.
David Starsky took another huge bite of his loaded chili cheese dog and washed it down with a swig of soda.
"Hey, it's better than that stuff you eat."
"What's wrong with what I eat?"
Starsky snorted. "C'mon, all that soy sprigs and apple grass. And goat cheese."
"It's bean sprouts and lemon grass."
"And wheat germ!" Starsky shuddered, "Who eats anything with germ in its name!" He stuffed the last of his hot dog in his mouth and licked his fingers.
It was Hutch's turn to shudder.
"What are you eating for anyway? We're going to Rosie's birthday party. You know Mrs. Dobey always has food."
The mention of Captain Dobey's little daughter brought a smile to Starsky's face.
"Ah, that's not for a couple of hours yet. I'll be able to eat."
The blond detective just shook his head, knowing his partner spoke the truth.
After downing the last of his drink, Dave crumpled the cup and waxed paper that had held the hot dog and stuffed them both into the white paper bag emblazoned with "Hot Dog Heaven". He dropped it onto the back seat to throw away later.
"Hey, let's go to Huggy Bear's. I want to put the word out that we're looking for Tubby Larue."
"Sounds like a plan."
Starsky started the Torino and pulled away from the curb with a burst of speed.
Just over two hours later, the detectives pulled up in front of Captain Dobey's house. Starsky grabbed the giant brown teddy bear from the back seat and hopped out.
"You got your gift?"
"Yep, got it right here." Hutch displayed the small square box wrapped in pretty paper.
Minutes later, unbeknownst to their boss, the duo was standing in the entrance to the living room watching him and his children, Rosie and Cal, play Twister. Dobey was explaining to his wife how, as captain of the detectives, he had a certain image to maintain.
Unable to resist, Starsky tossed out a teasing reply in his best Groucho Marx imitation. Startled, Harold Dobey looked over his shoulder and laughed.
"Uncle Dave, Uncle Ken—you came!" Little Rosie flew straight into Dave Starsky's arms.
"Happy Birthday, Rosie!" Starsky said as he handed her the giant teddy bear.
"Hey, sweetheart," murmured "Uncle Ken", smooching Rosie on the cheek.
"For me?" she cried, delighted.
"Well, I suppose you could let that big kid over there play with him if he promises to behave himself."
Starsky's teasing comment evoked happy giggles from the little girl.
"I've got one for you too," commented Hutch, "But you've gotta guess which hand."
Rosie pointed and said, "That one."
Hutch displayed an empty hand.
"Awww . . ."
"Hey, hey—do that again," ordered the curly-haired detective.
"What?"
"Point at his hand the way you just did."
Rosie did as asked and this time was rewarded with her birthday present.
"Ahhh ha, you're left-handed, heh?"
"Of course," answered the little girl with a puzzled shrug.
Excited, Starsky lifted the little girl into his arms. "Ah, c'mere my little pumpkin. You are my partner. Hmm. Rosie's left-handed. Now what're you gonna say about that!"
Hutch drolly replied, "Well, one out of two isn't bad."
Scowling at his not-so-funny partner, Starsky put Rosie down and watched her carry the bear and her wrapped gift over to the couch.
"Uncle Dave, Uncle Ken, play Twister with us!" she implored.
"Uh, well, uh . . . I don't . . . um," the dark-haired man stumbled over his words, looking for any excuse not to play. He glanced at Hutch who appeared equally bemused.
The birthday girl jumped up and down and cried, "C'mon, puh-leeze."
"Yeah, c'mon you two," Harold Dobey's gravelly voice filled the room, "play Twister, I insist."
Knowing an order when they heard one, the detectives reluctantly agreed. Starsky removed his blue windbreaker and ditched his tie while Hutchinson peeled off his leather jacket. Both men toed off their shoes.
"Wait, wait," wailed Rosie. She rushed from the room, returning seconds later. "You have to wear these!" She handed each of them an Indian headband with yellow feathers—exact matches to the ones worn by her and her father.
Donning the feathered headdresses, they moved over to the Twister mat. Harold and Cal quickly moved out of the way, grateful for the break.
"Okay, go ahead, Rosie, I'll go first." Dave made a funny face, causing the girl to laugh.
"Right hand red."
Starsky bent and placed his hand on the appropriate circle.
"Left foot green."
Hutch moved his left foot to the outside green circle.
"Right foot blue."
"Left hand yellow."
The instructions came fast and furious with Rosie and her father taking turns calling them out. The two men on the mat moved just as fast and furiously and were quickly twisted into a big knot. They quite resembled a living, breathing piece of modern art.
"Right foot yellow."
Hutch lifted his foot and teetered precariously before he managed to place it on the nearest yellow circle. He laughed in relief.
"Right hand green."
When his partner's next move was called, Hutch saw a disaster in the making.
"You can't do it, Starsk."
"Sure I can."
"No, you can't. It's way on the other side of the mat."
"I can do it."
Starsky lifted his right hand and inched it toward the row of green circles. He stretched. And stretched some more. Just when he thought he made it, Dave felt his left foot slip. Unfortunately, his partner's fingers were in the way.
"Aaahh!"
Both men yelped and came crashing down in a pile of arms and legs, a loud "Oomph" exploding from Hutch as Starsky's elbow caught him in the gut.
Rosie's giggles accompanied their attempts to extricate themselves from the mess. Even their captain had to laugh at their predicament. After much moaning and groaning, the duo finally managed to stand up.
"I'm getting too old for this," the blond man grumbled, though a big smile lit his face. His feathered headband sat cockeyed on his head.
"Yeah, me too." Starsky rubbed his stomach and burped softly.
"Let me guess—heartburn."
"Yeah."
"See!" Hutch exclaimed, triumphantly, "It was that monstrosity you ate earlier! I warned you."
Starsky scowled and muttered, "Still beats that apple grass stuff."
Still chuckling, Edith Dobey stood, "Well everyone, why don't we head into the dining room. I have plenty of food for us to eat."
Dave clapped his hands together, bent down, and lifted Rosie into his arms. Her Indian headband slipped forward and covered her eyes.
"Sounds great. What's on the birthday girl's menu?"
"Sloppy Joes!" The little girl smiled and pushed her headband back in place.
"Sloppy Joes? My favorite!"
"Uh huh. And mac-roni salad. And pickles!"
"How about cake? Surely there's birthday cake?"
"Of course, silly."
"What kind?"
"Mommy made me a chocolate cake with white frosting. It has pretty purple flowers on it."
"Well, I say we go have some of this great food your mommy cooked. I might just have to have two pieces of that birthday cake. How about you, sweetie?"
"Me too. Let's go!"
"Needing no further urging, Starsky swung Rosie up on his shoulders and headed for the dining room."
Hutch smiled and shook his head at the same time. He followed his fellow partygoers toward the other room.
"I think I'll start calling him the bottomless pit."
The End