"The partially, nearly Naked Gun 3 ¾: 'They Saved Crumpf's Brain'..."
Summary: Frank Drebbin is out of retirement and on the case when he learns the fanatical former president and loser candidate Fred Crumpf may not be quite as dead as he left him and he and/or his crazies including his family threaten the newly elected President Woodrowmina Wilson.
Of course Nordberg is no longer on the squad because of, well, we never talk about that...
Prologue...
202-...True American Republican Convention, LA, California...
Banner across hall proclaims "Bye bye Loser GOPers: Vote True Amerikan Republican!"
Reporter to camera: "We are here at the 'True American Republican Convention at Los Angeles where the third of the divided Republican Party conventions is under way. As you know, the first, one month ago, the Lincoln Republican Party convention held in Springfield,Illnois nominated George Conway and Liz Cheney and was followed a week later by the True Republican Party's convention in Chicago which nominated Dwight Maxwell and Mitt Romney..." Wake up, guys...Hiss to camera crew... "And tonight the third, possibly least likely to succeed, but most belligerent and vocal, the True American Republican convention opening with the acceptance speech of its single candidate, Fred B. Crumpf, who has declared himself Presidential and Vice Presidential candidate in his third bid to recover the White House. Although its delegate numbers may be small and its polling numbers well below those of the Democratic nominee, President Woodrowmina Wilson..."
"Hey, dey says we're small. Beat those commie mainstream media guys up!" a cry behind them...
"Boss...They're OANN, the only news network to come." Tug at sleeve...
...
The enormous bulk of former president, two-time loser, Fred 'Biff' Crumpf, drags itself to the podium, GOP flunkeys, sycophants, and craven cowardly members of the leadership eagerly or fearfully clapping as two strong men help him over...
"Get off!" Crumpf waves the men off... "Hey, yous dimwitted minions and assorted Neo-nazis, neo-Fascists, Klan members, Russian disinformation agents and friends of my old President Putinsky, bitter middle-aged GOPer women who won't let any woman have it better then they did, and general hate-filled types, shout out to you lantern-jawed fanatics, (you get yer guns back when you leave to second amendment anybody opposin' me, not before)...And yous guys who hate and fear me but are too greedy and ambitious to stand up to me! Bend the knee, losers! Bend it! Bend!" scream. The crowd half-filling the stadium grovelingly knees.
"Before we once again crown me god-emperor and Crumpfrer of America as well as miserable fuehrer of this miserable piddlin' party...Why the hell I couldn't find or make a decent party that worships me and then wins, I'll never know! Bastards! You lost me the last two elections that the commie Democrats...!" shaking fat fist. "No offense, Boss Putinsky..." nod to cameras... "I said commie Democrats not commie Russians, we love Russian dictators and their dough! Say, yeah!"
"Yeah!" eager screams.
"Losers...Anyways there's the thing about parties, ya know. There's all kinds, Greens, Blues...The Romans had the Blues, I know dat...Did you know dat? I bet not, losers! All kinds...I think we're Red or Orange, who knows. Did everyone take their bleach miracle cure? And pay me for it? Ya better, or else! We're taking names! Losers, I want my dough! Well, speakin' on commie solar energy, I love power ya know. Power is good for powerful types like me, ya. So anyway, before we crown me again and I beat that dumb broad who lacks my good genes...Yeah!"
"Yeah!" crowd, a number rather confused but...
"And nobody better say nuthin' about that debate...That was fake footage when I followed her around and she punched me in the guts, and I went down, heaving cheeseburgers and chocolate shakes! Fake! Fake! No girl can take me! Beat up anyone laughing! Beat em up now!"
"Beat em! Beat em!" crowd cries. Some nervously look for the back exit.
"Anyways, before my coronation as bigger than God and that Jewish kid, we wanna honor a good guy. Not as good as me cause I woulda done what he did, better! Right?! Right?!" scream, shaking fist.
"Yeah, yeah, sure sure." Crowd responds, getting tired now. This enthusiasm whipping wears you out, especially at five bucks an hour for most.
Three bucks and ya won't be paid...He thinks. Heh, heh, heh...Losers.
"A good cop though I woulda been a better one except I faced my Vietnam in my prep school where I was the greatest hero ever! Ever! Ever! And Dad didn't send my ass there to keep me outta jail for hitting my 90 year old music teacher. Sister Mary Francis hit me, da bitch!"
"Bitch! Bitch!" part of the crowd roars...Others moving toward end of aisle, out to exit.
"Yeah, so dis guy captured some bad guys or whatever...I guess that's ok but I bet woulda captured lots more. Who did he capture?" leans over to chief dweeb and heir, Fred Jr. who whispers. "Him? Jeff? He's a great guy...Found me a lotta young babes. Whatdaya mean, dead? And who else? Geesh, I had a deal going with that guy. Who is this bozo, anyway, arresting all my pals? Fani Willis?"
"No, Dad..." dweeby nervous hiss from Fred Jr.
"Daddy..." Daughter Evita beside Fred Jr., sighs. "Be nice."
"Shut up unless you mean you'll date me."
"Dad..." Fred Jr. hisses. "He's..."
"Frank Drebbin, Police Squad, retired..." taped announcer, over loudspeakers.
"Schmuck...Ah, fine." Crumpf turns to mike. "Yeah, dis guy..." as an image of Crumpf looking well, young and ai cropped slender fades and an image shows briefly of the intrepid Frank Drebbin, immediately replaced again by an image of Crumpf, this time as Jesus. "Get up here's whatsyername, schmuck, sos we can get back to Me!"
Frank Drebbin, retired, of Police Squad, comes forward on the stage...Eyeing the crowd...
"Go on, Frank..." His friend and former superior, likewise retired, Captain Ed Hocken, urges. "You earned it, buddy." Hiss... "Just remember, don't mention you know who."
"Who?" Frank turns. "Say, where's Nordberg? I sent him an invitation."
Crowd falls silent hearing the name...Everyone trying not to look at anything...
Damn, the Captain sighs. "Frank? Remember...The incident?"
"What?" Drebbin stared back. "Oh, right...That incident."
"Yeah..." sigh. "Just stop mentioning it? Please?"
"Of course. We wouldn't want to spoil this event by dredging up such a sordid event at such a wonderful occasion. I won't say a thing about our friend and former partner and the incident that destroyed his career and, oh God, the humanity...!"
"Frank! The ex-president is waiting for you!" the Captain cried. "And they're all replaying 'the incident' in their minds."
"Right. Say, I thought the candidate was either a woman or black or both..." Drebbin looked over.
Uh-boy, the Captain sighed. "Frank..."
"Get over here, loser!" Crumpf calls. "Steve! Kick his ass over here!"
"Wait? Isn't that the neo-fascist traitor Steve "Sgt Schultz 'I know nothing' Banner?" Drebbin hissed to the Captain. "The one I arrested, accidentally but rightly, while I was visiting New York, when he returned from betraying freedom and this country with neofascists in Italy?"
"I think so...And I think he got out on bail thanks to that judge who likes Crumpf. I mean as in sleeping with him if you can believe it." the Captain nodded. "Frank, you're just here to accept an award and let me get some free food. Since I retired I have to eat Edna's cooking. Every night..." sad shake of head. "I don't even get free donuts now."
"Well, at least I hear she's pregnant again." Drebbin noted cheerily. The Captain eyeing him grimly, then sighing...Eh,what's the use? And it is kinda impressive, at her age...
"Camere, Drebbin." Banner, a shaggy man almost as large as Crumpf waves him over. "We got an award for ya and the Boss/Crumpfrer don't like bein' kept waiting."
"Is he wearing a Nazi armband?" Drebbin eyed the Captain.
"So are most of the neo-Nazis and neo-Fascists out there, so what? Look, at our age, an award's an award." The Captain noted, shrugging. "Looks nice on the resume when we apply to McDonald's."
"Cmon, punk...Get these losers to help me make Crumpf dictator and me the power behind da throne! Move it, ya loser punk!" Banner, coming to Drebbin, two thugs beside him, hissed.
Hmmn...I don't think this is the Democratic Convention after all, Drebbin thinks.
And while I'd happily accept an award from them or the Lincoln Republicans, the Socialist party, the Greens (unless Jill Stein that evil incompetent is candidate), the Ecoativists, Greenpeace, the Spartacists, the Northern Baptists, the American Communists, the Know-Nothings, the Catholic Church, the Girl Scouts (but not the Brownies...Never the Brownies), and the Seventh day Adventists, I must draw the line at...Hmmn...
"Move it, Drebbin! Now! Or we make you move, stooge!' Banner grimly hissed, signaling to the thugs.
"Why, Ed. Isn't that felon traitor Fred Crumpf at the podium?!" Drebbin stared. "I was supposed to arrest him but my retirement papers came through...You know the Mayor hand delivered them?"
Knew I shoulda said he was sick or at the hospital with his wife and I'd be accepting for him...The Captain sighed.
" Frank Drebbin doesn't take awards from convincted felons and friends of President Putinsky!" Frank, glaring at crowd. "Or Klansmen, neoNazis, neoFascists...I sympathize but can't support you bitter middle aged women, you should have fought for your rights...And assorted red-baiters, greedy hangers-on corporate types, etc. Oh, no. I decline this award!" he put up a hand, waiving it off.
"Frank...The guy's gonna lose anyway." The Captain hissed.
"You what?!" Banner glared. "You guys! Grab that punk and bring him over!"
Fight scene...Frank swiftly tosses the first two thugs off the stage and into the crowd, a number of the slightly braver so long as there's a lot of us neo-Nazis, neo-Fascists, Klansmen, and bitter middle aged women, come up to fight him on stage. He tossing back rows at a time. Dweeb Fred Jr and his brother, Derke, quickly hiding in corner of stage, Fred fuming and calling for someone, anyone , to beat someone up. Whoever was criticizing him.
The Captain sighing...It coulda been such a nice evening...That little Klan cutie in the first row was making eyes at me. Unless it's because she's black and came here on a bet. But joining Frank in the fight...A number of the neos and Klanmen starting to flee now, the hangers-on already fled, a few lantern-jawed gun nut fanatics trying to get a clear shot at Drebbin from the floor but shooting their own and causing more panic, though the bitter middle-aged women continue to fight grimly.
Batman tv series music playing as the two rock-em, sock-em...Tossing thugs (Pow!) and attendees (Ooof!) right and left, Banner now pulling gun at point-blank range, which Drebbin deflects. It goes off, bouncing, hitting Banner who deflates to reveal a small, slender, Joseph Goebbels type under the costume layers.
"Joseph Goebbels?" Drebbin stared.
I'd say I admire his knowledge of history except Banner's carrying a biography of Goebbels with his picture on the cover, the Captain noted, eyeing them while fighting off a woman with a vicious punch to the stomach, then dodging a Klansman trying to flee, who trips over his robe and falls off the stage.
"Joseph III, the grandson. And I'm not a good guy like Mengele's son." Banner sneers.
"Didn't Goebbel poison his kids...?" the Captains stared.
"So, my father was a love child, raping actresses was Grandpa's way of showing love." Banner glared.
"And vengeance on Amerika will be mine!" runs to podium. "Come, mein Crumpfrer! We must escape, the jig is up!" he urged Crumpf. "And you were gonna lose anyway!"
"We'd better go, Daddy." Evita urges. Yeah, leaving...What a good idea...the Crumpf boys note.
"But I'm not crowned God-emperor, Crumpfer yet!" Crumpf cried.
"You're all under arrest!" Drebbin cried. "Though really the crowd here at the DNC looks much bigger on camera." Displays phone video.
"Frank, that's from the DNC a month ago. And you're retired. You can't arrest people or shoot them without a permit." The Captain noted, dodging a swing from an elderly woman with a "Grab me, Freddie!" t-shirt and kicking her back off the stage into the fleeing crowd.
"Citizens' arrest!" Drebbin cried.
"Yeah, I guess...Whatever..." the Captain agreed.
"Hurry, daddy! You can't be arrested and found guilty again. All your corrupt judges have been impeached!" Evita called.
"They were?" Crumpf stared. "F...! Lets head for Moscow! Banner, goons, dweebs, and any losers with real dough! To my Crumpf jet! Boys?!" turns to Fred Jr., Derke, "Hold them off, losers!"
Ha, ha...Evita grinned at the two hapless Crumpfs, waving as she runs...Banner and goons trying to slide Crumpf across floor to elevator. Drebbin and the Captain fighting off the last of the fanatics...
This is when I enjoy being a girl in a misogynistic family...She thought.
The Crumpf boys looking at each other, then running for the stairs as Crumpf, Evita, Banner, various thugs, and Lindsey Graham enter the elevator. Lindsey whimpering nervously as door closes.
"We've gotta stop them from reaching that jet and fleeing the country!" Drebbin cried to the Captain. "I think they're headed for the heliport on the roof!"
We do? But...I'm retired. The Captain thought, viciously punching a middle-aged woman in the throat as she charges him, and tossing her into the path of a bullet fired by a last lantern-jawed fanatic with rifle.
How'd they get guns in here, anyway? The Captain pondered. Oh, I see...He regarded a series of gun show tables set up by the hall wall. "Gus's Gun World, Cause Killin' Your Fellow Man is Your Right...And I'll Shoot You if You Question That!" Banner above proclaiming...
"Come on!" Drebbin called, heading for the stairs.
"Hey, wait. I gotta take the elevator. Heart condition." The Captain called.
I wonder if that's why Edna keeps making those high fat dinners?
"Meet you up there!
"Yeah, sure..." the Captain sighed.
Could at least stop and get a few of those ribs at the eats table.
...
On the roof Banner and thugs are trying to get Crumpf to the helicopter, Evita frowning at her brothers already seated and strapped in, but takes seat.
If my hubbie Jafred weren't busy making corrupt deals with the Saudis and Putinsky to get Daddy back in power...
Well, he've of at least hired more thugs...
"Stop!" Drebbin emerged from the stairway door. "Citizens' arrest. Drop your..."
Banner, thugs firing...Drebbin ducking for cover.
"Kick his ass, Steve or Joe or whatever!" Crumpf called, strapped in his seat(s) now via belts tied around his bulk.
"Take off! Now!" Banner boarding, leaving his men. The copter lifts off.
Ok, guess we're off the clock now, the thugs on ground immediately lay down guns ...
Drebbin, leaping to grab onto one of the helicopter struts as the chopper takes off.
The Captain emerging from the stairwell a moment later, chewing on a rib from his container of ribs and fries, looking to see Drebbin hanging from strut as the copter flies off.
"That Frank...What a showoff..." he sighed. Hmmn, good ribs.
...
Private airfield, ten miles off...
Where the Crumpf jet, currently being foreclosed on but not yet seized pending donations from his supporters, waits.
The Crumpfs boarding, Banner and the remaining thugs plus a couple tending the jet following...Banner signaling for immediate take off after a quick survey to see no signs of Drebbin or other pursuit. A forlorn Lindsey Graham, whimpering, left behind on the tarmac on Crumpf's sneering order.
All on board make their way to passenger cabin...Taking seats. Crumpf calling for cheeseburgers and fries as the plane rises up.
"Ok, we're at 30000 feet, folks. Great weather all the way to the secret lair." The pilot announces.
"Not Moscow?" Crumpf eyed Banner.
"Putinsky says he can't let us in, international situation is too delicate."
"He's getting his ass kicked in Ukraine?" Crumpf noted. "That's about it." Banner nodded. "But you're safer at...The Lair. Besides, they'll be lookin' for us to go east not west.
"I hate the Lair." Derke complained. "Old nazi WWII island lairs always suck and have poor internet."
"Then get out, loser." Crumpf noted. "But a parachute'll cost you ten million."
Uh... "No, no. I'm good, pop." Derke nodded.
"Well...So much for dat loser...Who was he, again?" Crumpf eyed Banner.
"Frank Drebbin, retired, Poice Squad!" Drebbin called from the rear where he'd crawled through the cargo door...Hey, if Harrison Ford can do it...To the passenger section, gun trained on the group.
"Mr. Drebbin." Banner sneered. "We meet again... But you are aware, if you fire that gun in a pressurized plane at this height..."
"Whoa, sorry folks...A little turbulence there." The pilot spoke on intercom.
Gun fired accidentally, puncturing Crumpf's window...He is sucked to window, stopping the hole as Evita and the boys scream. Plane spiraling down...
...
Naked gun theme plays...