Some Like It Rare (Barbaque)

SOME LIKE IT RARE

44 euros, Mrs. Coignard.

- This is for the wait. - How kind! Thank you.

You're in for a treat.

I'm sure.

- Do you have the receipt? - Yes.

- Thank you. - Have a good day.

For the wait!

I always massage my meat. Why change now?

Nothing ever changes around here.

If you gave me as much TLC as your meat...

or your dog.

My life is black and white.

Do something!

V Power!

The bank refused our loan. We're screwed.

Look on the bright side, sweetie.

You can't spend your life chained to a cash register.

I feel so much better since I quit at the hospital.

Then again, Marc makes 12K a month,

plus perks and benefits,

but still...

Hey, come on, Sosso.

You know I like Vincent,

but you deserve a man who treats you right.

When did he last get you a gift?

The cost is irrelevant, OK?

Marc gave me

this little raw silk number. 400 euros.

But you can get some cute cotton t-shirts.

Saint Tropez?

More like Nowheresville!

270 euros the meal for two.

But we don't regret it. Moroccan cuisine is delish.

And Moroccans are so kind.

Not like the ones who come over here.

The poverty is dire though.

Marc gave 50 euros to a glue-sniffing street urchin.

Enough to keep him "locked tight" for days!

Loctite...

Oh, the super glue...

We're thinking of buying there.

You can get a fab house with a pool for 300,000 euros.

And staff are dirt cheap.

But we may have to open a fourth butcher shop.

We get through two tons of meat a month.

Per store.

Oh, honey!

This month

I made over 100K.

He's absolutely exhausted.

This is for you, Vincent.

What is it?

Open it.

2,500.

Marc got the top model. 4,000, wasn't it?

Thanks, but I don't have a permit.

I don't have a permit!

I'll give you permission.

This takes out hogs at 30m.

They're heftier than vegans too!

Check this out.

Don't be a pain, Marc.

Hey, don't be such a faggot!

We work like niggers. And those damn hipsters

are shitting on us.

They should go suck a carrot!

Good job, honey!

Dead.

No more quacking outta Quacker!

Here.

Take it.

To think Marc is planning to buy a fourth store.

Yeah, to sell more shitty hormone-filled meat!

Even Chubster refuses to eat it.

Well, I'd happily sell shitty meat.

Because they have a beautiful home,

they get to go on vacations, they have sex...

They have sex, Vincent!

Sorry, but my mind's made up, I want us to separate.

I need a man who thrills me.

Do you hear me?

Are you nuts?

That's the vegan who trashed our store.

I'm going to bust Rusty's ass!

He's gonna be sorry.

Is he dead?

If he'd eaten meat, he'd have been tougher.

What now?

Don't ask me! I didn't reverse like a maniac.

I guess...

I'll tell the cops it was an accident.

When you're over the limit and have a gun in the trunk?

They'll work out he trashed our store. You'll get life!

Use your brain.

What do you suggest?

We copy Michel François.

Michel François?

Sure.

Who's Michel François?

Michel François, the Dissector of Charleroi.

For some ten years,

this lowly city hall worker dissected his victims

and left them in garbage bags all over the city,

striking fear into the hearts of all Belgian residents.

Jean-Paul Emile, the Gravedigger of Vaucluse.

Diagnosed with leukemia as a child, Jean-Paul developed

a loathing of hospital clowns

and ended up killing 34.

And...

You're still awake?

I can't sleep.

It's natural after what happened.

Nothing happened, Vincent.

Forget it.

- But about that vegan... - I said forget it.

It didn't happen.

Enough.

He even fed the circus lions

with the corpse of famous clown Rachid Pinder.

What are you doing?

Getting into bed.

But Vincent...

We're separated, we sleep separately.

I won't touch you.

Just like always...

Where do I sleep, then?

Time to get up!

I didn't sleep, I'm dead.

- Where is it? - What?

Our leg of ham.

On the slicer.

You could have asked!

You only just got up.

- Sell any? - What are you doing?

I asked if you sold any.

That ham of yours, I've never tasted anything like it.

I'll have 10 slices.

See? I did right.

Vincent?

How about andouillette instead? It's fresh in and tasty.

If Mrs. Coignard wants ham, give her ham.

It's always good, but today...

Have you changed supplier?

- No. - Yes.

We have?

You could have told me.

Give me a bit to try.

Vincent.

Sure you want to try it?

Yes, but I can always help myself.

- No, I... - Thank you.

- I'm on it. - Great.

- I'm on it. - OK, and I'm waiting.

That's a tiny bit!

Could I please have a bigger bit?

How are the children?

Very well, thank you.

Oh my God.

What?

It's...

- Bigorre ham? - No, this isn't Bigorre ham.

I don't know what it is

but it's delicious. What is it?

It's...

It's pork from... Iran.

Iran?

Iranian pork?

Iranian.

Because after the revolution,

the ayatollahs,

in the 1970s,

said no to pork.

They slaughtered all the pigs,

but a few illegal farms remained.

And a French farmer managed

to get hold of some pigs

from Iran.

Well I never!

Thank you.

- Thank you, Mrs. Coignard. - Goodbye.

These new labels are good.

Nice color.

Iranian pork?

Who's the farmer?

- Martin. - Martin?

Like hell it is! We owe him money.

What's this pork, Vincent?

I tried telling you last night.

I didn't copy François Michel.

Michel François.

I figured it was best to turn him into meat

and throw it out with the out-of-date stuff.

Little by little.

You gave me human flesh?

Vegan.

They're herbivores.

And Mrs. Coignard too.

I'll get rid of it.

No, Vincent, wait!