Hello, Troop 940016, I’m Inspector Harry Callahan. I see you gals need to sell some cookies. The way I hear it, your mamas want to fund a field trip to the San Francisco Aquarium. Well, that’s just dandy.

Now if I wanted to see a beached-up walrus, I’d just go to Phyllis’s house and gawk at her dad lying on his ass watching a Niners’ game on the television. But, that’s just me.

Stop crying, Phyllis. Your daddy’s a real piece of work. And it looks like the fruit doesn’t fall too far from the tree.

Now pay attention, we’ve got work to do. Off-the-books kind of work that those penguins at St. Anne’s School won’t teach you.

Yeah, the money will be dirty, but those sick sons-of-bitches are aching to quiet their sweet-toothed joneses.

Here's the plan, pipsqueaks. We’re going to split up and canvass the whole city. And you ladies better watch your asses. You don’t know what kind of freaks are out there looking for some Savannah Smile.

Phyllis and Brandy: You take Russian Hill. Look for the candied-up degenerates hustling and shaking down yuppies on Lombard Street. They’ll have a few bucks on them for cookies. Yeah, the money will be dirty, but those sick sons-of-bitches are aching to quiet their sweet-toothed joneses, and I'll wash the cash clean. Let's just say I got my laundering merit badge.

Now, some of those poor bastards might ask for a taste of Do-Si-Dos, just to sample the product, get their blood sugar levels up. No dice. They give you four bills for the whole box, or they can go back to licking the chewing gum stuck to the sidewalk.

Ann and Sue Yee: You take the Sunset. Locals are always in need of a hit of Shortbreads to get 'em through the day. Then shake them down for dirt on their regular dealer, and report back. There's only room for one dirty cop and one dirty Girl Scout troop in the Sunset. I don’t want to hear about any other suppliers creeping on 940016's turf. If you don’t come back with at least a hundred bucks in sales, don’t bother coming in tomorrow; I’ll have your merit badges and your vests. I can say “sayonara” just as well in two languages: with my mouth and with my middle finger.

Crystal and Madison: You girls already look like you’re working the streets. Use it. Spend some time in the Financial District hitting up the suits. Most of these jokers are run-of-the-mill perverts who will hand over their annual bonuses just to get a glimpse. And if some down-on-his-luck sap tries to rip off your Toffee-Tastics before disappearing into the Embarcado station, you just take him down, real easy.

Here. I’m gonna give you this piece while I’m at it. Yeah, it’s loaded; it wouldn’t do much good if it wasn’t. And when that sorry son-of-a-bitch is staring down the barrel of this .44, ask him this, short and sweet: “Do you feel hungry, punk?”

Then, just shoot him. Because a real Girl Scout knows when it’s time to take out the trash.

Me? I’ll be working the Tenderloin. And no, I don’t need some damned partner; she'd only slow me down. If I’m selling Tagalongs to hop-heads and junkies, well, I’d prefer I don’t have a partner with me who’d muck it up.

My last partner? We went door-to-door selling our product to bozos sprawled out on wrestling mats. And you know what happened? Chica never sold another Tagalong while she was still breathing. God rest, Chica Martinez, I guess you did the best you could.

Let’s do this, Troop 940016. I’ve got nothing to lose. Except my pension.