He who shall not be named!

Judy fidgeted nervously in her seat in the Bullpen; for all she teased Nick about procrastinating and skirting the rules, he was never late. She heard the door swing open and turned, only to see Snarlov and Wolfard step through sans Nick. She was about to call him on his phone when Higgins marched in and called the room to attention.

Bogo strode in to his usual fanfare. "All right, settle down." he glanced around, his gaze stopping on Judy. "Officer Hopps, while I will normally take any opportunity for a reprieve from your partner," there was a chuckle from the collected offices, "...absenteeism is not something I can ignore. So I must ask: do you know where Officer Wilde is?"

She was trying to come up with something while planning to let Nick have it with both barrels later, when she heard a faint, distressing squelching noise approaching the Bullpen. The doors opened and Bogo began to speak. "Officer Wilde, I waahhkk...!"

Judy had just turned to the door when the smell hit her. It reminded her of a childhood memory, when one of the farms septic tanks blew and launched its contents onto a lit trash-burn pit. There stood Nicholas Wilde, Officer of the Zootopian Police Department's flagship Precinct, covered snout-to-tail in raw sewage.

Judy was about to ask what had happened when he suddenly held up a manual paw, slinging a thin stream of effluent in the process. All was silent as he closed his paw leaving two digits up.

"Ooh, Charades!" A groan of, 'Goddammit, Moon-Moon!' sounded from the back of the pen as Wolfard bounced in his seat. "Two words!" The Chief looked ready to yell at the pale wolf when Wilde lowered one of his digits. "First word!" Wolfard looked positively giddy as Nick tapped two digits on his forearm. "Two syllables!" The Fangmeyers looked aghast as morning shift brief seemed to be degenerating into a party game when Nick tapped one digit on his arm. "First syllable!" The entire shift was rapt in morbid fascination, wondering which officer Bogo was going to kill first. Nick tapped one of his ears and pointed up. "Sounds like, Up! Ceiling! Roof!"

"The Doof!" Frank McHorn's declaration caused nearly every officer in the room to yelp in alarm and flinch away from Nick, who nodded in conformation. Judy could only look on in confusion.

"I was on the Red Line's Peak St. spur just past Cactus Grove when everything stopped." Nick spoke for the first time, though he did sound congested. Judy thought he was just doing his best not to smell anything. "He was on the tracks where they cross Willmott Ave. making some kind of speech. He has a, a minder I guess is the word; a flying squirrel named Arthur from NIMH. He's no longer 'The Doof', by the way; he insists they be called 'Moose and Squirrel!'" Nick struck a ridiculous pose and spoke with a ludicrous East Eweropean accent. "He gets very upset if you don't."

Francine Trunkaby cocked her head to the side. "How upset are we talking."

Nick stared at her silently until a particularly vile 'ploop' sounded. "Very. Upset." He then turned to the podium. "By your leave, Chief, I'm heading to processing to have Bill give me a County Intake Special; I'm going to need a pressure washer to get this, THIS, out of my undercoat." Without waiting, Nick turned and left the room.

Wolfard huffed. "Well, at least we don't have to deal with Hoofdor..." The entire room erupted in alarmed noises. Even Bogo looked upset at the name. "What? You heard Nick! This all went down on Willmott; that's Third Precinct."

There was a knock at the Bullpen door and a disheveled lion sgt. stepped in. "Chief, we're gonna need to drop someone off."

In the background could be heard a shrill voice. "Please sir, he has a serious mental condition; I really do need to stay with him."

"Correct!" A pompous voice boomed through the building. "You may not separate the the dynamic duo of Moose and Squirrel!"

Bogo gurgled at the sgt. While the podium creaked under him.

The lion held her paws in a placating gesture. "I know sir, but with that business with the Arabian League last night, our holding is already in overflow, and I am NOT driving to the Fifth with those two." With that, the door shut.

There was a banging sound coming from Snarlov as he thumped the back of his head against the wall behind him. "Goddammit, Moon-Moon! Why did you open your maw?!"

Wolfard whimpered as the Chief leveled 'The Glare'(tm) at him. "Assignments: Wolfard, you're on cell watch." The pale wolf all but folded in on himself and whined like a whipped puppy. "As one of our new guests is apparently under psychological evaluation, they are considered a high suicide risk. You will therefore conduct your wellness checks every half-hour, rather than every hour."

As the Chief droned on with the officer assignments, Judy leaned over to the still shell-shocked McHorn. "Frank, who's, 'The Doof'?"