The Brand New Testament Page #2

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question on social networks.

How has this changed you?

It won't change anything.

I'll continue as before.

Rosalie:
10 months,

12 days to live.

Georges:
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.

Sh*t, goddamn, f***, sh*t!

Henri, 6 years to live.

What I want, is to learn to play

the helicon. (sousaphone)

Goddamn, Goddamn, sh*t!

What the hell?!

Goddamn, Goddamn, sh*t!

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 f***ed 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 sh*t.

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, sh*t.

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 Aurlie.

When she learned how much time

she had left to live

she decided to change nothing

but to continue as before.

Aurlie is a super nice girl.

Oddly, she lives alone.

Aurlie 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 Aurlie.

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, Aurlie 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.

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