The flakes of Los Angeles County F.D.
"Those two paramedics have got to be the biggest flakes in all of Los Angeles County Fire Department," John Gage declared to his partner, Roy Desoto.
"Squad 12?" Roy asked knowingly.
"Oh, yes indeed, Pally. Junior there is a cross between Craig Brice and Chet Kelly." John indicated Enrique Gomez, the younger of the paramedics.
"Oh, no!" Roy laughed, "What a horrible thought. The Walking Rulebook and the Phantom all in one person."
"Yes, one minute he's quoting some obscure paragraph in the Paramedic's handbook, the next minute he's putting a whoopee cushion on his partner's seat in their squad vehicle."
"Yes, but Senior is every bit as flaky as Junior. I had the misfortune to work with him last week when you and Katrina went to Mazatlan. He talks like Stanley Kowalski from A Streetcar Named Desire. Either that, or Jed Clampett. Every time I hear him call Rampart, I get nauseated."
"Hmm, I wonder what that sounds like," John remarked.
"Raampaart, this is Squad 51, y'all." Roy and John both screamed with laughter at how stupid that sounded.
"Hey there, Stella Babee," John mimicked.
"Stellah!" Roy howled.
Both halves of Squad 51 laughed that much harder at Roy's imitation of Howard Bryant, the senior paramedic of Squad 12, who talked with a stupid affected southern accent.
"You know what makes worse, Junior?" Roy asked.
"No, but I'm sure you're about to tell me, Pally."
"He has never been east of the Mississippi, and what's more, he has a bachelor's degree from UCLA in premed, he's been accepted to USC to become an ER doctor starting next fall, and he talks like some silly country bumpkin."
"Oh dear, Roy, that is really scary. A Dr. Kelly Brackett with a phony southern accent."
"Perish the thought."