Femmes Fatales (Calmos) (Calmos)

Hello Doctor.

'Scuse me sir, which way to Flaubert Street?

- Why on earth do you want to go there? - None of your business.

Then leave me the fuck alone, that's all I ask!

Be polite.

Why should I?

Unbelievable; I just ask for directions and instead I get insults.

What gives you the right to ask for directions?

You never leave us alone, not even in the streets.

Must you break our balls on the sidewalk too?

No directions, no Flaubert Street, no nothing!

Can't you see the man is tired, on the verge of a nervous breakdown...

Do you want to provoke an incident?

Well, I'll be... Don't you agree they have

the tendency to piss us off!?

All of them!

- Are you from around here? - No, from Montrouge.

Are they the same in Montrouge?

The time will come when it'll be beyond our strength. And then...

If they keep on toying with our nerves... Nerves are sensitive...

And we have plenty of them.

Imagine if they all snapped at once... That will damage their cute little mugs.

They'll have asked for it.

I choke, I suffocate; plain and simple.

It's no wonder; they squeeze the air out of us.

But it won't go on forever, trust me. It'll burst.

We'll pack our suitcases. It's final.

What would you say if I told you "maquis"?

"Maquis"... Let me think...

I'd say: undergrowth, a silence where every noise counts,

a bird waking up, the crack of a tree branch,

a deer leaping out, tiptoeing carefully on the moss.

...worn-out shoes.

It's dawn, clouds of mist hanging about.

Suddenly, our leader halts.

We reached the rally point in Mellèze, by a dead tree.

We wait for the others: guys from Femérac, from Mérouge.

We sit down, and the ten of us split a pack of fags.

Nobody speaks...

We're smoking the first morning cigarette, the best one.

We feel good.

A little scared but good. Just us men.

We forget about women, we don't care.

We don't miss their platform shoes.

We puff on our cigarettes and that's it.

Then! Our leader produces a bottle of cognac. As he unscrews it, we think:

With some luck, he'll share a drop. It's a good one. Aged 15 years.

He looks up and understands. The flask is handed around.

Not a word is uttered.

No matter.

We're like 10 fingers on a hand. No fuss, no jumble.

Look at us, it's been only 45 minutes and we're already a pair. Solid.

No bullshit like: "Let me take you to the movies,

let me buy you dinner, what are you doing tomorrow...?"

All that is just to give you the hook, there, in the neck and they've got you.

Calm down; pull yourself together. Since when has your husband been missing?

10 AM.

Missing is not the right term. This is more of an absence.

But inspector, he left his office without a word to his secretary

and without cancelling his appointments for the day.

What could the secretary tell those ladies who wouldn't leave before seeing him?

By the end of the day, there were more than 30,

plus one in on the bench, legs still in the air.

His coat was left on the ground.

No news since then.

Has your husband ever shown this kind of behaviour before?

Not at all, he's a model husband and a good father.

Don't you start that again. I can't stand tears, I'll leave.

- Give the lady a Calvados. - Yes, boss.

Madam, to your knowledge,

did your husband have an affair?

Him? Be serious: a gynecologist!

Doesn't that mean anything to you? Asses, Inspector!

About 30 to 40 rectal exams a day.

And the bitches are crazy about it, some come back everyday.

So believe me, in the evening, all he longs for is doing his crosswords

while eating a blanquette, and then going to bed.

Because the next morning at 7, it's pussies and asses.

A happy man then, basically.

Please let him be alright.

It's a sad thing to see a remarkable woman being dumped like that.

- No kidding, I feel better already. - Yes, you do look better.

What a bore, this woman on the train, whining about her missing husband.

Gives you a glimpse of a typical day in a police station.

Missing persons, we get them all day long.

No sooner than this morning, a dreadful story:

Again, a female. A business woman.

Prêt-à-porter style.

She comes in, make-up running down to her chin, a real fountain.

To her credit, the man was not the easiest bloke.

Not only did he dump her, but what's more he stole the contents of the cash register.

5 grand, the week's earnings.

- A low class scumbag! - Yup!

Not repulsive, that little village...

Maybe we could...

- Dear Lord. - You can say that again!

Good day gentlemen. What'll it be?

Something cool, what you think is best.

I have just what you need. Not very spacious, not very luxurious.

- You're not very demanding comfort wise? - Oh, no.

- There's a gas cooker? - A coal one. But very efficient.

3 hours left till before dinner drinks.

- With a small onion? - If you have one, I'll have one.

Ah, the cunts!

You know what we should do someday?

Eat garlic sauce, and not brush our teeth!

Ah, the cunts...

Take Genevieve, you know who I mean...

The shopkeeper?

Well, she can keep it.

Take my word for it,

each time we were about to have sex, she gave me mints to suck on.

The tobacco stench was annoying the Mrs.

Always pissing us off... They've really done it this time.

Paul... PAUL!

What's wrong?

What's wrong with you?

There's nobody there... You're alone, old chap.

See for yourself. No Geneviève.

What was she doing to you?

They bug me even in my sleep.

They get under my skull, I can't get them out.

I have to sleep, I have to recover... or I'll never get my head above water.

I've wasted enough sleep over them as it is.

We're all in the same boat.

I have trouble sleeping as well.

As soon as my eyes are closed, they barge in.

We haven't been very reasonable, you'll agree.

A chocolate mousse following roasted pork, really... Heavy stuff.

It's not my fault I have no diplomas, you know?

At 16, I had two options: the factory or using my cock for a living.

I wish I had a degree in medicine like you.

Nonsense.

Did you choose your specialty?

You could have been an oto-rhino specialist,

or an ophthalmologist.

I just had my pretty face.

I'm fed up with being loved.

How about a nice omelette. Wouldn't that do you a world of good?

- With the mushrooms leftovers? - Yes, for instance.

- And I'll open the bottle of Gamay. - Ah, we'll have to taste it someday.

No, there's only one thing that could cleanse all that.

What?

Tripe.

You say that now! You never want to buy in advance.

Fresh food, fresh food... There's more to it than that.

As long as we don't take supplies, we won't be able to fight them.

Hey, you're not alone.

That big.

- Smells real nice around here! - A small stew. And you?

Oh, nothing much. I have to watch my lunches.

A small slice of terrine, some goat cheese,

ice cream and marmalade. If I overdo it, I get bloated.

Go on!

It's midnight; time to get down to it.

If you have nightmares after that, I'll buy you a bottle.

What's with you? What's wrong?

I'm not hungry.

Neither am I. That's no excuse.

Careful, Albert.

If you listen to yourself, you'll go back to Geneviève, sucking on those mints.

I feel queasy.

Well, un-quease yourself. That's what beer is for.

Nothing like it to make your mouth as good as new.

Goes down well?

- Goes down well. - Well done!

Try the salty stuff. It's a breeze. Have some mustard.

And pickled cucumber.

Spices will make you thirsty...

- Garlic sausage? - Oh no.

I'll have some.

Glorious cholesterol lies in store for us.

- It's better than sleeping pills, no? - Yes.

Healthy food, without chemicals, never has any ill effects.

The most precious sleep...

the most important...

is the early sleep.

So by splitting the night in two,

you get two early sleeps.

- Doctor! - Yes?

My saddle itches.

- Ever had any troubles down there? - That's my weak spot.

Lately, my clitoris is all swollen.

At first I thought it was a temporary thing,

but now I'm a little worried.

It looks like a snout.

Every time my husband sees my cunt, he giggles.

He calls me Cyrano!

It is my opinion that you are changing sex.

Oh?

What a smell!

I'll have to repent

after this meal.

I give you absolution

in advance, brother.

It smells like thrush.

Not as easy as it looks.

What I'm eating is divine.

There is some thrush in it.

- I would say thrush and ruffed grouse. - Yes.