On the next Dexter
DEBRA MORGAN: Now, about this dead hooker. LaGuerta wants to just write it off as a fucking overdose, but how did her fucking sternum get cracked, then? Someone was fucking this fucking hooker when she died.
NEW DETECTIVE: Well, I just got here, but the obvious suspect is Quinn.
MASUKA: Gotta be Quinn.
DEB: Or Masuka. But he’s too fucking weak to crack a hooker’s sternum without a fucking bone saw.
QUINN: Come on, you guys. If it’d been me, you’d have found my gun and one of my shoes still in the room. Besides, I was drunk and asleep in my car at the time.
DEPUTY CHIEF MATTHEWS: That’s good police work, son.
* * *
MATTHEWS: You don’t know what it’s like, Debra, how lonely it is to lose a spouse.
DEB: I could ask Dexter about that, I guess. His spouse was brutally fucking murdered, after all.
MATTHEWS: I’m disappointed in you for investigating the crime I committed, Debra. What would your father think?
DEB: Once again, I’ll ask Dexter. He’ll find out.
DEB: Hey, LaGuerta! Why’d you fucking rat out Matthews? Now he thinks I did it and he has to fucking resign.
CAPTAIN LAGUERTA: This is what the deputy chief gets for blackmailing me into promoting you, as well as for then coming to me in confidence with his dead hooker problem.
DEB: Well, why the fuck would he do that?
LAGUERTA: This is how the game is played, Lieutenant.
DEB: You mean fucking idiotically?!
LAGUERTA: This is Miami Metro, isn’t it, Lieutenant?
* * *
DEB: Holy fuckballs, my therapist just brought up a bunch of repressed memories, and I think Dexter might be a serial killer!
NEW DETECTIVE: I thought everybody knew Dexter was committing every murder in Miami. It’s been obvious from the moment I got here.
DOAKES: Surprise, motherfuckers! Turns out I wasn’t incinerated in season 2 after all! That was just an overdone pot roast you found in that cabin in the swamp!
NEW DETECTIVE: So should we go arrest your brother now or what?
DEB: Fuck it. Thanks to my therapist, I also want to bone him now. Just frame that bitch LaGuerta for all the murders. I’m assigning Quinn, Masuka, and Angel to strip club duty from now on, and you two are now in charge of all the competent police work in Miami.
* * *
GHOST OF HARRY MORGAN: Dexter, I think Deb is on to you.
DEXTER’S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: I think Deb is on to me.
DEXTER [ALOUD]: I think Deb is on to me.
* * *
DEXTER: Hey, Masuka, can I borrow your computer for a minute?
MASUKA: Uh, sure Dexter. Let me just … uh, hurriedly close this tab before I leave.
DEXTER: Okay, great! Okay, let’s see … [typing] “GOOGLE NAME OF DOOMSDAY KILLER.” Well, what do you know? It’s “Travis Marshall.”
DEXTER: Well, I’d better throw the rest of the police off the scent so I can kill him myself. [typing] “FRAME PROFESSOR GELLAR FOR CRIMES.”
DEXTER: Huh. Says here Gellar is dead. No problem. [typing] “DELETE DEATH CERTIFICATE.”
MASUKA: Hey Dex, are you nearly done with the computer yet? I have to get back to … um, work.
DEXTER: No problem. I was just leaving.
MASUKA: See ya, Dex. [typing] “DOWNLOAD GROSS PORNOGRAPHY.”
* * *
INTERN: Hey, why are you calling Travis Marshall “DDK”?
DEB: “Dooms Day Killer”, fuckwad.
INTERN: “Doomsday” is one word. You should just be calling him “DK”. Or, better yet, “Travis Marshall.”
DEB: You know you don’t even fucking exist, right? You’re just a fucking figment of the collective fucking imaginations of Dexter, Masuka, Angel, and Angel’s fucking sister.
INTERN: Well, this sucks.
GHOST OF HARRY: Eh. You get used to it.
GHOST OF BRIAN MOSER: Besides, being a ghost is better than the alternative.
GHOST OF BROTHER SAM: Speak for yourself. I’m supposed to be in heaven right now.
GHOST OF PROFESSOR GELLAR: You and me both, pal.
GHOST OF RITA MORGAN: At least you get to continue to watch over your loved ones.
GHOST OF FRANK LUNDY: Until you’re reunited in death, that is.
GHOST OF DEB: What in the fuck is going on here?!
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