Welcome Aboard! (Bienvenue à bord!)

"I wanted to make love," Yvonne whined,

as her outrageously sculpted chest in a felted jersey dress,

bounced over the car door.

Turning to stare at her,

the man noted that red was a very difficult color to wear,

and without a word, he put the car in first gear.

He already knew that in an hour, Yvonne wouldn't even be a memory.

- Sorry? - Three francs short.

Last time it was 56.

But... that's all I have left.

You have a debit card?

Your thing's demagnetized.

- Damn, so, what can I do? - Cheque.

Ah, I'm afraid that...

I'll have to go see the boss. Don't move.

- How much do you need? - Three francs, it's stupid.

Yeah, and it would be stupid to spend the night here. Here you go.

Thanks, thanks a lot.

Here, here's the rest.

Oh, what am I going to tell the boss, now?

Don't use the motorway if you can't afford it!

- Oh! Oh! Oh! - Please.

The idiot went through Anderson's papers

with the diligence of a baboon playing Mikado.

The Grand Central clock showed 7:28

and if this minestrone-filled FBI dolt didn't get a move on,

Anderson would miss the train to Chicago,

where his fiancée had again threatened to throw herself into Lake Michigan.

Three minutes later, Anderson was heading for Chicago

and a miserable Italian-Ape asshole of a cop was found

encrusted on the marble of the station toilets.

The problem was...

how had a bloodthirsty killer such as Anderson

fallen in love with a tart from Chicago,

as flat as a fillet of sole and with dandruff on her shoulders?

Objectively, this is well beyond a masterpiece.

How's it going?

Well, it'd be going better if you weren't sitting on my tape recorder.

Can we stop the bagpipes?

Thanks pop.

- Can I ask why you're in my car? - No.

Oh. Why not?

Some questions are better unasked.

when you're not equipped to handle the answer.

Look at you.

- No, what do you see? - Nothing!

Ah! You're too modest!

Maybe not much - but nothing? That's almost pretentious.

I'm doing this the wrong way. Get out.

Sorry?

Go, get out. Do I have to spell it?

- Are you trying to insult me? - Not at all.

Good, because generally, you don't get out in traffic.

Exactly, I'm waiting.

You got off to a bad start.

- No idea what's stopping me-- - Fear.

You're lucky I'm not violent.

I know.

Right, for the last time, I'm asking you to leave.

Perfect.

I don't have to take you anywhere. I'm not a taxi.

Tell me something.

Do you remember who said that

"Where victory is impossible,

it is foolish to fight"?

Jost Van Den--

That's not good. Hey, are you blind, or what?

Hey, put it in second! I'll push you!

Jost Von Den Vondel, 17th century Dutch poet and playwright.

That's it, thank you, thank you. Go, idiot.

Von Den what?

And where did you come from?

- The devil. - And where are you going?

That, only God knows.

Oh, you're on a pilgrimage, then?

Funny guy, huh?

Anyway, this is a real jam.

You'd have been faster on foot.

I hate being alone. And it's about to rain.

Doubt it. They forecast good weather.

He believes in the weather forecast.

My first was bought by 354 enlightened, but unnamed fans.

The editor of my second went bankrupt,

so the book went straight from the press to pulp.

And as for my third, it's still at the start of chapter two.

And my whole being is a failed writer.

Stuck, not failed.

Oh, don't play word games.

I get it, the second chapter is the hardest part.

What do you know about it?

Are you married?

Erm, yes.

How long has she put up with you?

15 years.

Oh don't tell me, you were married in boys' shorts then, eh?

I got married at 20.

- Gosh. Kids? - No.

- No ring? - Well, no.

Reminds me of this guy I knew.

He chose a ring a bit too big,

so he could take it off when he left home.

Listen, my friend, you're very nice,

but you're starting to annoy me immensely.

You'd be faster on foot, and I'd be no worse off.

I love being alone, and my fellow men piss me off considerably,

especially when they look like you.

Clearly, you don't like yourself.

Me? I love myself. It even makes my wife jealous.

- Is she waiting for you? - Yes.

- Well no, not tonight. - Why not tonight?

Oh come on!

I was due on Tuesday but stuff got put off.

There, you happy?

Oh my God!

- What? - You're going home unannounced?

- Well, yes. - You're nuts, my dear.

I did suspect, but now I'm worried.

What's she like?

- What do you mean? - Physically?

Physically, I'd say, uh...

she's a little like Elizabeth Taylor. But better, yeah.

Life is a web of injustice. Does she work, your Cleopatra?

- Why do you give a crap? - I give a crap.

All right, if I may, and I believe I may,

give a crap somewhere else.

You enjoy being a moron?

Anyway, you didn't answer me about your wife.

Are you that interested in my wife?

She doesn't interest me, she fascinates me.

I know plenty of guys who'd have punched you by now.

You keep bad company.

Maybe. We don't always hang out with who we want.

Was that aimed at me?

Look. We've known each other an hour.

- You've busted into my car-- - Burst, not bust. Burst, with an "r".

I said that. You burst into my car,

you drive me nuts and make me tell you my life story.

You'd want to talk if you led a good life,

maybe you are hiding something.

- I don't care. - I'm sure.

You look like a man who gets up at night

to finish his wife's birthday cake with the maid.

- Am I wrong? - Doubly.

I never get up at night and my wife hates cakes.

You take things too literally. How on earth do you write?

I don't see the connection.

Don't act dumber than you are.

When I express myself, I like to use analogies.

You're a writer, you should understand that.

You may know a lot, but that's not what literature is at all.

Well then! I'd be curious to know what literature is to you.

In my opinion, if you had any idea,

you wouldn't have given up after two books.

I'm taking a break. I haven't given up.

A break? Do you really believe you have your whole life ahead of you?

- What are you doing? - Washing.

With baby powder?

If you use enough, you don't really need to wash.

- Oh, for God's sake. - Your car's not very sturdy.

Now that's refreshing.

How am I supposed to see?

You'll have to use your memory, which I understand is excellent.

When you make love, is it you who turns the light off, or her?

Thought so, you cheat even when banging.

- What are you doing? - I'm going to piss, can I?

Done already?

- You don't need to pee? - Yes.

Well then, leave me to it.

You'd better take this as well.

See if I were you,

I'd try and take advantage, rather than sit in my box

brooding over my spiderweb of teenage fantasies.

Spider what?

Spotty-faced fantasies, if you prefer.

Oh, right.

And what should I take advantage of?

Well everything, my sweetie pie. Life, fate, me, for example.

Here, to give you an idea,

in the case of your unannounced return home, I've made that mistake,

and I didn't do it again,

because I promise you it didn't last.

Not taking off your gloves?

You want me to strip?

- What didn't last? - The accident, my friend.

The unforeseeable thing, because you're too stupid to foresee it,

where all of a sudden,

you're full of blood with meat on your arms

and a huge desire to vomit.

So, inevitably, the first to breathe you slaughter them.

I thought you were married too.

What do you want?

If only fools did foolish things, history might be less bland.

- Do you have a best friend? - I don't have friends.

Because in this story, I didn't just lose my wife, but my best friend too.

And that's much trickier to replace.

I understand, but--

It's not enough to understand, you have to take advantage

and, if it happens, you'll be glad to have met me.

Don't hold yourself prisoner like an idiot, for example.

Because me, I said to myself, crime of passion,