In the beginning you don't know it's the beginning;
that things are just starting.
Then all of a sudden they're off.
Things become altogether different than you thought.
At first there were only twelve apostles.
That was before I found my six apostles. Before the world got better.
I should tell you the story from the beginning, when I still lived with my parents.
THE BRAND NEW TESTAMENT
God exists. He lives in Brussels.
He's an asshole. He's horrible to his wife and daughter.
There's a lot of talk about his son, but very little about his daughter.
His daughter is me.
That is my father. He's God.
Even before the creation of the world my father was already bored.
So, he made Brussels.
- Voila.☻
He'd made a few things; a few other creations,
but they didn't work out.
Something's not right.
So, he created man in his image.
With him, he could do as he pleased.
Ah, much better! Much better.
Enoch begat Irad. Irad begat Mehujael.
Mehujael begat Metuskael Metuskael begat Lamech.
Et cetera, et cetera...
That's when it all started.
He set one against the other. In his name.
For God!
For Allah!
For Baal!
Voila, now you know exactly how it came about.
That's me. I'm called Ea.
This is where I was born, and where I was stuck for ten years.
It has no entrance and no exit.
Three room apartment, fully equipped kitchen and laundry.
And my father's office, where no one is allowed.
It's forbidden to watch anything but sports on TV.
This is my mother, a pitiful woman, 100% certified browbeaten.
She never says anything.
When she's not embroidering flowers, she looks at her baseball card collection.
and that makes eighteen.
It's complete.
Ea, we eat at the table and as a family.
Do as you're told! You're in MY house, here!
What? I'm your father.
Put that fourth plate away, it won't bring him back.
You never know.
Not at my right hand.
I told you before, it bugs me.
Stop that.
Stop! You're not your brother.
Just because you can't do it...
Because I don't need to be able to.
My father lived in a crappy place, which he never left.
He had a crappy life, had never loved his wife
and couldn't make things with his hands.
SILENCE! I'm working!
He needed something to relax and forget all that.
That's when he got the idea of humanity:
All his toys, that he could watch suffer and struggle.
A lot of misery and a little happiness, to give them false hope.
It took him 8 years, but after all, it worked pretty well.
My father attained a certain degree of virtuosity.
Since then, he spent his days
inventing new Laws of Universal Pain-in-the-assness.
I need to formulate this right.
Law 2127: The quantity of sleep, needed,
is always ten more minutes.
Law 2129:
When a body is submerged in a bathtub
the telephone rings.
2125:
A slice of bread always falls jam side down,
otherwise the jam is on the wrong side.
Law 2126: dishes never break
until after they've been washed.
Law 2218:
The next line always moves faster.
Law 2231:
pains in the ass never come one at a time.
Why are you looking at me like that? Lower your eyes.
It's disgusting what you do to people.
What?
You don't even know them, you just amuse yourself by harming them.
- You've been in my office? - Anybody could do better.
I've forbidden you to go in my office.
- You got nothing to say to me. - C'mere!
See what I have to say to you? Look!
See how furious you make me, huh?
That's no good!
Just at that moment I decided to do something.
Maybe ten years, is the limit of what one can put up with, I dunno.
Anyway, I knew exactly what I wanted:
to do better than my father.
But first I wanted to hurt him.
I wanted to make him suffer. To wreck his life like he wrecked mine.
You could call it, anger.
But once I'd done it...
I'd have to leave.
EXODUS
Psst! Hey, J.C.
- Hi, sis. - Hey, J.C. I need your help getting outta here.
- I hear you. What did mama say? - Nothing for fear of getting smacked.
It's about time she woke up.
I wanna do like you; split this joint. Find some Apostles to give me a hand.
Apostles are a good idea, I tried 12, but it got a bit messy.
I thought 12 was a good number, like a hockey team.
Mama's number is 18. She says you can play baseball with 18.
How many apostles should I get?
Try six. With my 12, it makes 18, like mama's baseball players.
How should I choose the apostles?
Go with your feeling. You don't have to justify it.
Choose any six from papa's archive, give'em a little miracle, and you're set.
I can't make miracles.
Just a small miracle, something you can handle.
Then with your 6 apostles, write a Brand New Testament.
- I don't want'em talking about me. - Make it about them.
A Brand New Testament in which the apostles talk about themselves.
- That'd be so totally new! - You know, I can't write well.
Delegate to someone who can. You think I wrote mine by myself?
To escape, I hacked the washing machine.
Set it on 'synthetic fibers'
40 degrees, 1,200 rpm spin cycle.
It'll open a passage. In a few hours you're out.
Thanks, J.C. you're cool.
Don't forget, without his computer papa's nothing.
Births / Deaths
Death Dates DO NOT OPEN<<
Births ... Deaths
Send death dates?
Benoit, you have 14 years, 6 months, 4 days to live.
Robert, you have 0 days to live.
Willy, you have 54 days to live.
Jean-Claude, you have 12 years, 9 months, 5 days to live.
Aurélie, you have 11 years, 6 months, 27 days to live.
Marc, you have 83 days to live.
Francois, you have 25 years, 3 months, 8 days to live.
Martine, you have 5 years, 2 months, 17 days to live.
- Psst! Hey, J.C... - You got the files?
Yeah, I sent everybody their death date.
Papa's gonna lose all credibility.
He'll be hopping mad. Super idea!
Giving men knowledge of their own death...
Crazy!
It's still impossible to say if it's a hoax
or if these death dates will prove correct.
Who could know when people die?
It's impossible. I don't believe it.
And yet there are troubling coincidences.
For example a fridge fell from a cargo plane
at the precise moment of the victim's predicted demise.
Andrée, you have 2 minutes to live.
It's a special day for this janitorial technician.
Overnight he's become the longest lived man in the world.
102 years to live! It's a record!
From the social networks we have this.
Hi, I'm Kevin. 62 years to live. 62!
Test!
- Shit! - Darling... darling!
Even if cellular regeneration is programmed,
length of life depends on unforeseeable factors. It's random.
It's impossible for it to be predetermined.
12 years, 4 months.
And you?
64 days.
It's not fair!
I've been taking care of you for years, and you'll live longer than me.
Ea.
Since this morning's announcements many people did not show up to work.
"What'll we do with the rest of our lives?"
is the most frequently asked question on social networks.
How has this changed you?
It won't change anything. I'll continue as before.
10 months, 12 days to live.
16 years, 11 months, 21 days.
Mama!
We're back in the studio for a news update.
Fighting has stopped in most war zones,
in the wake of 'Deathleak';
the disclosure by an unidenitied source, of our dates of death.
Goddamn! What is this?
On the social networks we have this:
I'm Bart. I still have 12 years to live
and I'd like to make the Titanic out of matchsticks.
Shit, goddamn, fuck, shit!
Henri, 6 years to live.
What I want, is to learn to play the helicon*. (sousaphone)
Goddamn, Goddamn, shit! What the hell?
Goddamn, Goddamn, shit! What's this?
EAAA!
Ea, get on my computer and fix what you screwed up!
Open up!
Ea!
Come back! Papa's not angry.
EAAA!
It's the fish-burgers.
- What? - The fish-burgers.
They're made from bits of stranded whales.
When a whale gets stranded somewhere, they don't throw it out, they sell it.
And make fish-burgers out of it.
Do you know how to write?
- A bit. - Then, you will write.
Can you take me to this address?
I have no time. No time
Why are you following me?
Leave me alone. Scram!
Anyway, I'm dyslexic.
I don't write well, and I can't even read,
Then learn to write. You wanna end up a bum, like me?
What do you want me to write?
- The Brand New Testament. - What for?
- Can you turn water into wine? - No.
- Can you walk on water? - No.
Then you won't get far.
He was called Victor.
His sweat smelled of salt, garlic and lemon.
He had skin like an old serpent
waiting for a glass of blood at the counter, in a deserted bar.
Just the type I'd have liked as father.
What's that?
An incinerator.
It's beautiful. There should be more.
- So, ever go to paradise? - Paradise?
Yeah, around here.
If this is paradise, it's so fucked up, I could've made it myself.
- Paradise is after death. - No, there's nothing after death.
Paradise is here. Adam was here and my brother came here too.
- But he got himself killed. - Told ya!
- What's your brother called? - J.C.
J.C.? Like J.C. Van Damme?
- Who? - Jean-Claude Van Damme.
Dragon Eyes, Double Impact...
Didn't you see Double Impact?
Universal Soldier?
You haven't seen anything. You're an odd girl.
- As if I had nothing better to do! - Are you leaving?
Yes, I'll find her. I tell you that little psycho will suffer.
You've never been down there. It's dangerous.
You know what your daughter did?
She fired off the death dates!
How can I fix this, without the use of my computer?
Do you get it? Before...
I had people by the balls, 'cause they didn't know when they'd die.
I had'em beat; walking on eggs Understand?
But now, they know. They won't be shat on, anymore.
They can decide what to do with the rest of their lives.
Understand? Oh?
What if, like her brother, she falls in with some fanatics?
And does tricks with glasses of milk, yada, yada...
Do you realize the consequenses?
Imagine if she shows them how to get themselves out of shit.
I, um... I... I...
No, huh? You don't get it.
You don't understand anything.
You say nothing, because you understand nothing.
Why do you understand nothing? Because you don't think at all!
You think of nothing but embroidery and baseball players!
I detest baseball!
Goddamit, Goddamit, Goddamit, shit.
I'm going.
Help me!
Here.
Hello.
Hello, I'm here about your arm and the metro.
THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO AURELIE
The first apostle was called Aurélie.
When she learned how much time she had left to live
she decided to change nothing but to continue as before.
Aurélie is a super nice girl. Oddly, she lives alone.
Aurélie is a babe, a fox, a bombshell, a great piece
the doormat of the whole building.
Her mother was Dutch, her father, no one knows.
Perhaps a Lapplander, given her porcelain complexion and dark hair.
Anyway the combination turned out really well.
But, porcelain complexion and dark hair don't suffice to make a babe.
You also need a laugh like pearls scattered on a marble staircase.
Seven men in her building are sincerely in love with Aurélie.
Two of them are over 84 years old.
another is under eleven.
218 men just want to bang her.
And for almost all the women, she's just a slutty cock-tease.
Yet, Aurélie lives alone,
and her heart, her melting-butter heart,
is as sad as a little heap of cinders.
When I was seven, my arm was ripped off by a subway car.
Don't ask how such a thing is possible.
It was just, me here, and my arm over there.
In its place, now, there's 600 grams silicone.
Who are you?
My father is God.
I ran away from his house.
I gotta find six apostles. You're the first.
And him?
That's Victor. He'll be writing the Brand New Testament.
You need to talk about yourself.
Myself? I dunno...
One day I was alone
and a guy came up to me.
the type of guy who sleeps on bits of cardboard.
His eyes were two red balls in a heap of flesh
He reeked of alcohol, rotting flesh, perspiration and urine.
Like a dead camel in a distillery.
As he approached, I thought
he'd ask for money, or pull out a knife
or show me his cock, as sometimes happens.
But none of that happened.
He just came near
I could see he wanted to tell me something.
My eyes stung a bit from the odor.
But I smiled at him. It's a reflex.
Then he spoke.
In his voice there were, like, thirty people cracking nuts.
He said:
Girly...
Life is like a skating rink.
a lot of people fall.
A lot of people fall.
How do you write 'skating rink'? Two t's or two n's?
His two-bit philosophical phrase stuck in my head.
Often, in the morning, when I look in the mirror...
I can't help thinking of it.
Are you young or old?
I'm still young.
I dunno...
- Is your mom young or old? - She's old.
Do you remember when your mom was little? - No.
Why not?
Because I wasn't born.
- Will you get old, too? - I'll die before then.
What are you doing?
I collect people's tears.
I don't know how to cry. There are lots of things I can't do.
But I can hear people's music. Everyone has their own music.
Do you wanna know what yours is?
Yes.
It's Handel. It's lovely. Tonight I'll invent a dream for you.
Do you know when you'll die?
I dunno, I never had a telephone.
The second apostle was not at home.
THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO JEAN-CLAUDE
For a long time, Jean-Claude was one of the greatest adventurers
the world has ever known.
Then one day, nobody knows how, it stopped.
Then his life became very small.
It's called reality, an ugly thing.
First Jean-Claude became assistant vice-manager of a shopping center, sub-level 2.
Then Jean-Claude climbed the corporate ladder
to become Budget Manager of the Monitoring Department.
That means I encode numbers.
Jean-Claude, 58 years old...
single, no children.
Jean-Claude lived a shitty little life.
He traded the hours of his life for a shitty job with shitty hours.
When he found out how much time he had left to live...
he sat on a bench. And he decided never to move again.
So, if there were no air, would birds fall?
Dunno. How can fish breathe?
They have gills.
I'll make a note of that.
- Could I have gills? - No, you're a child.
What becomes of children?
They become parents. Somtimes.
- What became of your mother? - She died.
Why did she die?
Because she was old.
- What becomes of old people, then? - They die.
Your music is 'Le rappel des oiseaux' by Rameau.
He says he likes you.
Why does he stay in this park if he can fly anywhere?
He says, he could ask you the same question.
He's gone.
An apostle who's not there, isn't that serious?
No, I don't think so. All we needed was to get acquainted.
Excuse me...
I'm looking for a girl with black hair, a bit sickly...
It hurts. Why did you do that?
Oh, that was me. Damn.
EA! EAAA!
Hey you, bum!
What the fuck are you up to? Eating out of garbage cans?
I'm looking for a girl with black hair.
You can't eat out of a dumpster.
That garbage isn't yours. And you stink.
I'm bleeding. I'm bleeding!
That's because I smashed your face in.
He has nothing on him. Found between two cars.
Does it hurt when I do this?
Moron! Of course it hurts! It's a sprain!
I know, because I created sprains. And migraines. That was me too!
- Give me morphine. - Sir, we don't just hand it out.
Aw, shut up! I'm sick of you. Don't piss me off, asshole!
- Gimme that, I'm hungry. - Are you out of your mind?
THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO THE SEX MANIAC
The third apostle was named Marc.
He called himself "sex maniac".
Marc didn't think of his parents, often.
But when Marc thought of them, usually the same memories came to mind.
I remember the caravan model 'Comtesse'
which my parents bought on a ten year mortgage.
A few cubic meters that smelled of soap, tanning lotion and tomato sauce.
Through the anti-mildew curtain
you can hear the rain falling on the campground 'Manga del Mar Menor'.
I'm nine, and my life changed, barely three hours ago.
Legs, long like pulled taffy
a turquoise bikini as big as two dots and a comma.
She looked at me with a strange expression a mixture of interest and disgust.
I wanted to eat her. I smiled stupidly.
She was the daughter of the German family.
Of course, I have many other memories of my childhood.
What's strange is, that in each memory there's a little sadness.
You see my eyebrows? As if I was making an effort.
Naturally, I AM making an effort.
I try to prevent all the images in my head from bursting out of my eyes
and splattering against the clean walls of my parents' living room.
For two years, the image of the German girl, with her caramel legs
the contempt in her eyes and the violent turquoise of her bikini
have never left my mind.
Then other girls came along.
The hairdresser's daughter.
The one with the cute nose and tight pants.
- The baker's daughter. - With Her doe eyes
which looked so sad, it seemed as if she'd just been crying.
Cathy, the neighbor's daughter.
So timid, that when she talks, it sounds like a tire blowing out.
He hit it! Papa, he hit it!
What becomes of children?
They become adults.
And what becomes of adults?
Sometimes they have children.
Will you have children?
I don't have the time. Not in 83 days. And first I'd have to meet a girl.
Look at the girl. Smile...
unless she says something sad.
Lesson 2. If she touches her hair, say:
- I love your hairdo. Very original. - I love your hairdo. Very original.
- You're different from other girls. - You're different from other girls.
I really love your hairdo. Very original.
When he learned he had only 83 days to live
He thought, time is too short. He hadn't a day to lose.
I thought, I'll empty out my bank account.
18,000 euro, 83 days to live,
200 euros per day, and the rest for food.
It's all there.
At the same time, so close at hand
yet so far away.
I want them all, all...
Life would be like a miracle.
Let the days pass and take me towards death.
Nothing matters anymore, my life will be as I dreamed.
Never, in my life, I'd imagined days so full of happiness.
Days flavored of fresh fruits, days flavored of grand mysterious voyages
salty flavored days, days of infinite beauty.
Until the day I ran out of money.
200 euros a day is a bit short.
Salty flavored* days ... Does 'gout*' have an accent?
- Why isn't everything free on earth? - I don't know.
Your music is 'O Solitude' by Purcell.
It was written for a voice like yours. You have a very nice voice.
You could try to earn some money with your voice.
Test. 1, 2, 3 ... Test.
Perfect. When you see the 'H' start. - OK.
- Ah, ooh... - Aah...
- More, more. - Yes, yes.
Yes, yes, yes...
- Great. Oh good! - Ahh!
OK, very good. I'll just change the roll.
Ah, Proust.
'In Search of Lost Time'
"For a long time I would go to bed early"
I especially like Elstir.
I can't figure out if he's really in love with Andrée
or if it's to make Albertine jealous.
Pardon?
- There's some sadness in Proust. - I think so too.
I like the way you talk.
Excuse my French, I always 'put my mouth in my foot'.
Why? Isn't that how you say it?
No.
- Manga del Mar Menor. - Bitte? (sorry?)
Manga del Mar Menor.
The campground. The beach.
That boy was me. Das kleine Kind, das war ich.
- Wirklich? (Really?) - Ja.
- Das warst du? (That was you?) - Ja.
It's been a pleasure.
Would you like to...
Yes.
My heart is pounding like a 'stammer'.
Mine too.
- Good night. - Good night.
2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7...
13, 14, 15!
Andale. Piss off. Stand in line!
- This line's faster. - Get back there!
No, no...
I'm god!
Such a beautiful face. It radiates peace.
God tells us, 'love your neighbor as yourself'.
- I never said that. - Pardon?
- I never said that! - No, I...
I detest myself, so I'd never say it. I'd say, I dunno...
detest your neighbor as you detest yourself.
But that guy, there ...
screwed it up.
He improvised. Went with his feelings. See?
But 'I' am God.
I invented all the crap.
You're a nice guy. Hm?
- Got a big heart? - I try.
You're daydreamer.
Ludovic.
Your mother died when you were five. No? And you were grief-stricken.
And you got polio, afterwards.
Oh, poor Ludovic. One leg shorter than the other.
How, sad!
And little Cécile. Remember Cécile?
Lovely little Cécile!
You were in love with Cécile. You loved Cécile, huh?
When you gave her flowers, what did she do? Laughed in your face!
She laughed in your face because she was with that asshole with a moped.
And you couldn't ride a moped because you had one leg shorter than the other.
All that was me. ME! Understand?
He is nothing.
All he succeded in doing
was getting himself nailed to a coat rack*, like an owl.
I'm GOD! Are you sick in the head?
THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO THE ASSASSIN
The fourth apostle was named Francois.
The day everyone learned how long they had to live
Francois bought a rifle.
If he shot his target and missed
it meant, it wasn't that person's day to die.
If he killed the person, then, it wouldn't be his fault.
It was written. Francois was merely the hand of destiny.
He'd always loved death.
He loved funerals.
Francois never cried. He was never sad.
He called himself The Assassin.
The Assassin had slain according to this partial list:
number, unknown.
six.
Estimates by The Assassin.
His cousin's mice.
Two parakeets, still his cousin's
Poisoned by 'spirits of salt'* (HCl) in the food dish.
The Assassin knew that he was an assassin
ever since as a very small child he became aware of himself.
At the same time he realized there was a world outside himself.
At the same time he became aware of the great frontier
separating the world of life from that of death.
I knew I was the 'Ferryman'.
I was made for taking lives, it was my deep nature I couldn't help it.
Like hair color, or shape of the nose, it's genetically coded.
I'm an assassin.
My focus, my raison d'etre, my vocation is ...
killing.
Today The Assassin is 41 years old,
At this stage, what's important to know about The Assassin
is that his wife is named Catherine.
They had a child; a boy, by mutual accord, called Grégory.
Catherine doesn't know that The Assassin is an assassin.
She usually calls him - 'Cheri' - in the daytime,
on the phone, or with friends.
Sometimes - 'Bunny-rabbit'- on certain nights:
or - 'Francois'.- during serious discussions or arguments.
Francois was one of the many victims of 'Law 1522'
invented by my father.
If, one day, you fall in love
with a woman, there's a great chance
you will not spend your life with her.
Francois used to sell life insurance but quickly realized
that his job served no purpose.
For your last day, choose one of our fifty destinations.
Treat yourself to an end that surpasses all that preceded it.
Hi, Kevin here again.
Why do you shoot at people?
If they die, it's not my fault. It's their time to die, today.
If I miss ...
this wasn't their day.
- Is your gun loaded? - No, not yet.
I should tell you it's not your fault.
I fucked up all this shit. I sent off the death dates
to get revenge on my father.
I thought I could do some good for people. Now I must find six apostles.
You're the fourth.
Your music is 'The Death and the Maiden' by Schubert.
It's sad but beautiful. It would go well with Handel.
You should try shooting a young woman with chestnut hair.
Go ahead.
She'll pass by in six seconds.
One crocodile, two crocodiles, three crocodiles
four crocodiles, five crocodiles, six crocodiles...
- How'd you do that? - That's her. Shoot.
Shoot! Shoot!
What happened?
A miracle.
I don't love you.
Yeah.
A little tired, that's all.
Excuse me ...
I love you.
I've never loved anyone. I'm married, I don't love my wife.
I don't love my son, either. I never loved my parents.
I've never loved anything, anyhow.
Except you.
I love you and I will always love you.
If you don't love me, it's fine.
I'll go live alone, waiting for death, thinking of you every day.
I wrote my number on the wrapping.
She'll call you.
13, 14, 15, 16 ...
Hi, still Kevin.
62 years to live!
THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO MARTINE
The fifth apostle was called Martine.
In the beginning, when she still lived in the land of childhood
Martine's heart was composed, 95%, of gooey, perfumy stuff
which predisposes you to romantic love.
Some things, you can't change.
Martine, you have 5 years, 2 months, 17 days to live.
- I won't be here, tonight. - What?
I have a meeting in Düsseldorf, with the Germans. - Oh.
'Morning, Madame. Feel like a coffee?
My husband came by the house.
He got a message that he had 39 years left to live.
I told him I had five years. It seemed to comfort him.
Is 200, OK?
You have beautiful hair, Madame.
Thank you. Would you mind not calling me Madame?
You have very beautiful eyes, too.
Thank you. What's your name?
I'm called Philippe.
Oh, yes...
Don't look.
When I see people, I hear their little music.
Everyone has their own little music.
You...
have circus music.
He says he likes you.
It's the first time something so beautiful happened to me.
Such lovely proof of love makes me so happy.
Never mind, I'm fed up with that thing.
Make yourself at home. Want something to drink?
Sure you don't want to sleep inside?
I can't sleep unless I see the sky.
Victor had done 6 months in prison.
He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
When he got out, he couldn't stand to sleep with a roof over him.
He was afraid of waking up locked up.
17.
How do you know, you love me?
You don't even know me.
I shot at you. I hit you and nothing happened.
Then I followed you, I could smell your odor.
It's like watercress. And I fell in love.
All right, come.
Oh, shit.
Ea!
- Who's he? - My Father, God.
I never imagined him like that.
Praise Myself! You're coming home and you'll reboot my computer.
You don't scare me.
See what a state I'm in?
Why won't you reboot it?
Why won't you reboot my computer? And put a stop to this crap.
I'm never coming back!
Do you like it here?
I'm happy, I got lots of friends. I just need one more apostle, to make 18.
STOOOOPP!
Stop it, with your 18 apostles.
12! There are 12, like hockey team.
It works, it always has! I told your brother.
You want 18 because your mother loves baseball.
But, FUCK BASEBALL!
You always loved your mother more than me.
I've seen it. 'Way of the Dragon'?
The Cunning Elephant.
Forget it, Victor. Let's go.
No.
Give me your hand.
Ea! Don't make me come over there! Ea, get back here!
Ea!
We fished him out of the canal.
Dry him out on the mattress with the Uzbeks.
THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO WILLY
The sixth and last apostle was named Willy.
When Willy found out how long he had to live
he decided to become a girl.
Willy was my own personal miracle.
Willy has always been sickly.
You know what skin cancer is? I've told you before, eh?
Time for your injection.
He never had anything serious like cancer or stuff like that
but sick, nevertheless. Always.
When we were alone my mother used to look at me.
A funny look. Like I was a box of tacks still lying around
after she'd just cleaned house.
Then she said I looked like hell.
- You look like hell. - And that I should keep calm.
You have to keep calm.
And then she gave me that darned injection.
Deep inside, something told me all was not right with my mother's injections.
Can we increase the dose?
I know it's difficult for you. You're doing all you can.
The doctor liked my mother.
He spoke to her, as if to a draft horse, that he pitied.
He thought, it can't be easy to have child in fragile health.
He cast a worried glance me,
as if he found it odd that I had any temperature at all,
since I puked, morning till night, a sort of greenish bile.
By the age of 7, I'd had an operation on my pancreas
because the synthetic anti-diabetics my mother shot me up with, daily,
had burned it out like a hamburger.
Then, what was supposed to happen, happened.
It's next Sunday. In a week.
I know. It's my fault.
I released the death dates.
You did right. Afterwards, everything changed for me, for the better.
Your mother and I ...
felt we should be honest with you.
You'll die on ...
You still have ... a few weeks.
We didn't tell you earlier because you might...
Is there anything you'd like?
Do you want to quit school? Take a trip? Whatever...
we'll agree.
Can boys become girls?
What?
I'd like to be a girl.
Are you sure?
Parents are such jerks!
My friend's parents...
when they found out, he was gonna die, kept him locked up.
He wanted to live as Alpha Arceus. That's an aluminum Pokémon.
At first they said OK.
Then, they preferred that he listen to J. S. Bach,
for the ten days he had left.
I felt like shooting myself!
We live in a totally shitty world!
I know, it's my father's fault.
- Your father? - My father is God.
Couldn't get along with him, so I split.
My mother, too, is a goddess, but doesn't dare say anything.
She embroiders, all day.
My father makes her zip her mouth.
Sometimes I miss my mother.
18. This changes everything. 18!
Just like baseball.
Does your father have powers like a superhero?
- Just power hungry. - Do you have powers?
You can multiply ham sandwiches!
Doesn't always work, just sometimes.
Sometimes the ham's missing
There's lots of stuff I can't do. Crying, for example.
There's lots of stuff I've never done. I've seen nothing of the world.
I've never eaten an apple, I've never seen the sea.
Your music is "La Mer" by Charles Trenet. It's nice.
Tonight, I'll invent a dream for you.
Willy, at least, eat the fish.
- He said he wants to return to the sea. - I understand that.
Good idea taking him to the sea.
I'm gonna die in a week, might as well die at the seaside.
That's a great dress. Totally awesome!
OK, I think, we need to help the kids.
Yes, I think so, too, we need to help the kids.
We have a week to wrap it up.
Willy sold his parents' furniture.
Travel is expensive.
Aurélie asked The Assassin to stop assassinating.
Please don't shoot at people.
I've lost interest in that.
, Martine put her life in order.
Ah, back already?
What's this crap?
I want you to go away and never come back.
Oh, I say!
Oh, you were marvellous!
Marc and Xenia made love for the first time.
And they liked it.
My mother availed herself of Thursday to wash the windows.
Willy and I decided that every day
instead of being called Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday...
would be called January, February, March...
By week's end, we'd lived together for seven months.
Jean-Claude reached the Arctic Circle.
On Saturday, God, having no papers,
got himself deported to Uzbekistan.
I'll make it rain frogs and locusts!
A pox on your face!
YOU MOTHERFUCKERRR!
Don't you know who I am? Don't you know?
I'll turn you into a stutterer and a premature ejaculator!
SONG OF SONGS
And on Sunday everybody was at the seaside.
Seems I'm not the only one with the idea of dying by the sea.
I didn't dare say it, but it's true seems everyone had the same idea.
Would all those dying today, come get a black armband.
Those accompanying them, get a white armband.
All those dying today, come get a black armband.
Those accompanying them, get a white armband.
Voila.
What will all the black armbands die of?
All we have to do is wait. Won't be long.
Any chance of it not happening?
My brother said, with 6 more apostles, it'd make 18,
like in baseball.
And that would change something,
because it's mom's favorite number.
He must have been mistaken.
He'd just turned 18 ♪ Il venait d'avoir 18 ans
Beautiful as a child ♪ Il était beau comme un enfant
Strong as a man ♪ Fort comme un homme
It was summer, obviously. ♪ C'était l'été évidemment
When I saw him, I counted ♪ Et j'ai compté en le voyant
All my autumn nights. ♪ Mes nuits d'automne
I re-arranged my hair, ♪ J'ai mis de l'ordre à mes cheveux
More shadow on my eyes. ♪ Un peu plus de noir sur mes yeux
It made him laugh. ♪ Ca l'a fait rire
As he drew near, ♪ Quand il s'est approché de moi
I'd have given anything ♪ J'aurais donné n'importe quoi
To seduce him ♪ Pour le séduire
He'd just turned 18. ♪ Il venait d'avoir 18 ans
That was the best argument ♪ C'était le plus bel argument
For his victory. ♪ De sa victoire
He didn't speak to me of love. ♪ Il ne m'a pas parlé d'amour
He thought that words of love ♪ Il pensait que les mots d'amour
Are laughable. ♪ Sont dérisoires
It's been nice to know you.
Shall we read a few lines of our Brand New Testament?
"Life is like a skating rink."
That was me.
"If there was no air
birds would fall."
Seems to be losing altitude. It's coming right at us.
Son of a motherfucking whore, we're all gonna die.
Only the black armbands.
NOOO!
Do you want to re-initialize?
ENTER YOUR PERSONAL CODE
18!♥
Hello Goddess, I'm glad to see you again.
Re-initializing
REBOOTING
I'm not dead? What happened?
The countdown's disappeared. Everything's like before.
Who did that?
Suggestions for:... 'sky'.
That's my mother.
It's mama.
It's my mother!
Excellent choice, Goddess.
Today, as every other day, there's only good news.
Despite global warming the ice caps have stopped melting.
Gravity.
Seabed.
Vegetation.
Cyclops.
THE BRAND NEW TESTAMENT
- Did you feel it move? - Yes.
Cheri ...
the thing is...
Now...
Couldn't you, maybe, shave your legs?
We'll see.
Goddamn, shit.
♥★★☻★★♥ anoXmous ♥★★☻★★♥︎
Hi, it's Kevin again.