Quills Page #7

and suck the marrow|straight out of your bones !

- Have you got that, little bird ?

At your service, Count.

To my beloved reader,

prepare yourself|for the most impure tale...

ever to spring|from the mind of man.

Off your hump.

Dauphin.|To my beloved reader,

prepare yourself|for the most...

impure tale ever told.

To my beloved reader,

prepare yourself|for an impure tale.

- Psst, Bouchon.|- Huh ?

To my beloved reader,|prepare yourself.

I have an impure tale to tell.

Prepare yourself.

- Bouchon ?

What did you say ?

Prepare yourself.|I've a tale, an impure tale.

Our story concerns|the prostitute, Fauchau,

whom nature had equipped...

with a tight and tiny fissure|between her thighs...

and the most finely|cleft ass ever molded...

by the hand of God.

Fauchau was a prostitute...

with a tight|and downy fissure...

between her thighs and-

The most finely cleft ass !

The most finely cleft ass.

- My glorious prose filtered|through the minds of the insane.

Who knows,|they might improve it.

It's about a harlot|named Fauchau.

It's about a harlot...

named Fauchau|with a downy fissure.

One day, Fauchau's first client|was a surgeon.

He ran his fingers|across her naked skin,

pulling apart|folds of flesh.

He ran his fingers|across her naked skin,

pulling apart folds of flesh.

Pulling at her folds and-

He ran his fingers|over her naked skin,

- pulling at her folds.

Feeling over her naked skin.

Her naked skin.

- Naked-|- Yes, I've got that bit.

"What shall I make ready ?"|asked Fauchau.

" My mouth, my ass...

or my succulent oyster ?"

What shall I make ready ?

My ass or my succulent oyster ?

" None !" cried the surgeon,|brandishing his scalpel.

- Yes ?|- Which hole ?

My mouth, my ass|or my succulent-

succulent oyster.

" For I'll carve new orifices|where there were none before."

- None-|- Cried the surgeon.

I'll carve new-new-new orifices|where there were none before.

With that, Fauchau expelled a scream|so extravagantly pitched...

that the surgeon was obliged|to tear out her tongue.

- Fauchau expelled a scream|of such extravagant pitch-

With that,|the extravagant b*tch-

- screamed so loud-|- She screamed...

so long and so loud-

She screamed, so he felt|he should- He ought-

- To seal the wound,|he took a poker from the fire.|- A poker !

- To tear out her tongue.

-He took a poker from the fire.|-From the fire. From the fire !

He took a poker|from the fire.

From the fire.|From the fire.

He took a poker from the fire.

From the fire.

- Dauphin.|- From the fire.

- What's the next bit ?|- Bouchon, the words ?

- Tell me the words.|- Fire.

- Dauphin ?

- Dauphin ?

- Fire !|- What's the next bit ?

- Fire ! Fire.|- What's the next bit ?

- Fire ! Fire !|- Tell me the next bit !

- You must tell me the words.

- You must tell me the words.

- Fire !

Open all the doors !|Let the patients out!

Get some water !|Hurry ! Come on !

Get some water !

-Jesus ! What the hell|have you done ?

Where's that water ?

Get the beds !|Stomp them out!

- Fire ! Fire !

Fire ! Fire !

- Fire !

Where are you going with that ?

Bouchon ?

Bouchon ?

Remember your manners,|Bouchon.

- Don't-

- No ! No ! No !|- Madeleine.

- Madeleine !

- Madeleine !|- Madeleine !

- Madeleine!|- Madeleine !

Madeleine!

- Madeleine!|- Madeleine.

Madeleine! Madeleine!

Madeleine!

Madeleine! Madeleine!

- Maddie ?

Madeleine !

- Maddie !|- It's awful !

The devil's unleashed himself|upon us !

It's her fault !

Up the stairs !

No! No! No!

No ! No ! No !

- Maddie !

- Madeleine ! Madeleine !

We must save Charenton!|Keep the chain going !

We've got to stop it|before it gets to those beams !

- Get him off of me !

Pitou !

- Madeleine !|- Madeleine !

- Guards ! Guards !

Guards !

Brigitte.|Are you all right ?

Madeleine !

- Madeleine !

Madeleine !

Go ! Quickly !

Madeleine !

Where are you,|Maddie ?

"She screamed...

- so he felt he ought|to tear out her tongue."

Bouchon, wait !

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Abbe.|I couldn't help it.

No.

Oh, my God.

- No.

Oh, no.

Madeleine!

Now, now, don't be shy.

We've a nice surprise|just waiting for you.

There's a good boy.

Huh ?

Huh !|There's a good boy.

Huh ?

I'm sorry. Wait.

I promise I won't do it again.

I promise.

Of course,|we mustn't blame Bouchon.

He is merely one of nature's|experiments gone awry.

No discipline,|no conscience, no morality.

In fact, it is our duty...

to provide such things|on his behalf.

Is it not ?

As you say, Doctor.

He was so impressed|by the marquis' tale...

that he chose|to reenact it, yes ?

Upon a certain chambermaid.

Perhaps you would be so kind|as to remind me of her name.

I beg you, Doctor,|don't make me say it.

Her name, Abbe.

Madeleine.

Tell me, Abbe,

when you are called|before God,

how will you answer|for Madeleine's death ?

- Murderer.

Your words-

Your words drove Bouchon to-

Oh, for f***'s sake, Abbe !

Suppose one of your|precious inmates attempted|to walk on water and drowned ?

Would you condemn the Bible ?|I think not.

An innocent child is dead.

So many authors are denied|the gratification...

of a concrete response|to their work.

I'm blessed, am I not ?

It's no secret|that you loved her.

I wanted to f*** her, that's all.

- And did you ?|- It's not your province to ask.

- Why was it you never|took her by force ?|- Who's to say I did not ?

- Was it impotence ?|- Never !

Then... it must have been love.

I f***ed her|countless times...

and all the while|she pleaded for more.

We inspected the body.

She died a virgin.

Give her...|a proper burial...

in the churchyard...

at my expense.

Do not inter...

her sweet body...

in the same ground...

as the devils who inhabit|this accursed place.

Your terrible secret revealed.

You're a man after all.

I've opium|to numb the pain.

Our intention is punitive.

If we numb the pain,|what's the point ?

Abbe de Coulmier.

I'm here.

Would that I were|so easily silenced.

There's a good boy.

My, my.

You have exceeded|my expectations.

Have I ? I'm not the first man God|has asked to shed blood in His name.

I will not be the last.

And will you|sleep soundly tonight ?

No, sir.

Plainly put,

I never expect to sleep again.

Don't send me away, Abbe.

Abbe. Abbe.

- Abbe-

Abbe. Abbe.

Abbe. Abbe.

Abbe! Abbe!

You best come quick, Abbe !

He's written|all over the walls.

Used his own filth.

- Made him self a kind of paint.|- Dear God.

- The stench !

- Free his mouth.|- You mustn't do that, sir.

I must grant him his last rites.|Give me your dagger.

Leave us.

- Shh.

I failed to save your soul in life.

I won't fail in death.

Dear Heavenly Father,

prove Your infinite mercy...

and open Your gates|to this man,

no less Your child|than any other.

There is...

in each of us...

such beauty...

and such abomination.

No man is exempt.

Forgive him.

Forgive us all.

Kiss the cross.

Marquis !

Marquis !

- No !

Welcome to Charenton, Abbe.

I'm pleased to have|the new post, sir.

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