Too Fat Too Furious Page #2

The organ trade is illegal.

Delicious quiche.

Is that leak?

No, no.

- Endive?

Yes. What about illegal?

Eastern bloc, sometimes.

But I wouldn't stake my life on it.

You're sure no relative died?

No, are there any other options?

- Bolivia, of course.

You can have anything replaced

for a price.

What does it cost?

About 300 grand. Euro.

Can I have some more quiche?

For my wife.

I want her to taste it.

Hello! May I? I'm just...

I think I can get a discount.

It'll still be about 270 thousand.

Where will you get the money?

GG BANK NORTHERN DISTRIC

I want to transfer some money.

Katia Willaert?

The transfer is the sum of your assets.

You know that?

And you want to transfer that to...

Lars Meuleman?

Yes. Lars Meuleman, "The Amsterdam

Hammer". European boxing champion.

Could we hurry it up!?

Stating that it's an... inheritance.

Is there room for a comment?

- Certainly.

"I don't want...

"...to see you and that blonde slut...

"...at my funeral...

"A**hole."

Is that too much?

Not at all.

He was so happy.

Then he made me this drawing.

Lovely, isn't it?

Mast...

Hello?

Hello?

Koen.

Can you talk a little louder?

I'm robbing a bank!

I have them all covered!

- What?

Now what?

- Have you gone crazy?

We need money for Dad, don't we?

Make the staff stand by the wall,

away from the counter.

Don't do anything without me. Just wait.

That was Koen, at the bank.

He's having trouble filling in

a deposit form.

I'm glad you get on so well together.

It may sound grand, European boxing

champion but it's all fixed.

They agree in advance

who's going to win.

Be quiet!

- No! I don't care who hears.

It's all fake!

On Friday, Lars Meuleman is going down

in the second minute of the third round...

Shut your face!

Or else...

Or else what?

I'll shoot you!

Go ahead.

Hey, it's Bennie!

Lie down! All of you! Lie down!

Okay, come on. Fill it with money.

Now! Come on!

Hello?

Might this be yours?

Ah, yes. Right. Merci.

Lie down! Come on!

My jacket, Fatso!

Who's a Fatso round here?

- I have to wear it to a funeral!

What funeral? A woman's?

- What's the difference!

Put on that hat! And I'm not fat!

Hello, hello? Who's paying

for my jacket? Fatso...

You, you... all of you. Come with me!

Come with me!

Hello, hostage takers.

My name is Jennifer

and I'm here for you.

We can defeat this crisis

if we trust each other.

Come on!

Run! Faster, b*tch...

Come on, run...

Sit down, b*tch!

Drive!

Drive! Drive, b*tch!

- No! I need to pee.

Drive. Christ. Drive.

Is this the only road you can take?

You talk about integration every day.

Why don't they integrate this road?

Keys!

Keys!

Key.

Christ...

What's your name?

- Katia...

You mentioned a funeral?

Yes, a girl who committed suicide.

Unrequited love.

Hello!

And what's the girl's name?

- Katia.

Will you stop chattering?

I'm trying to concentrate.

I fear she's dead.

I fear she's dead?

Why can't you learn to speak

proper Dutch!

It's your fault we raided

that bloody bank!

I was to arrange the money!

- Something's blocking the way.

Where?

Sh*t!

F***.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

A LITTLE FURTHER DOWN

Does that belong to Dad?

- Put that sheet back. Yes, she's dad's.

She?

- Yes...

Mast always called her Betsy.

After his first great love.

I was his driver,

from when I was sixteen.

We interrogated Teddy Vee

on the back seat.

It took hours to scrub it clean again.

That's not even 100,000 Euros.

They won't even cut him open for that.

A bank robbery. That's a great idea!

What about his car?

Can't we sell his car?

Listen, dog breath,

I'll only say this once.

This isn't just a car.

It's Betsy, Mast's car.

If you want to sell her, you might as well

go to the hospital and pull the plug.

Understood?

But how will we get money for the liver?

Stand up! Go on! Get up!

And now...

The moment you've been waiting for...

The Battle of the Titans!

The Apocalypse!

Here and now:

Andrew "The Fist from Hoorn"...

...and Lars "Amsterdam Hammer"

Meuleman!

That's him...

That guy's going down in the third?

Hey, the bald one...

Going down in the third.

Katia says it's a fixed match.

The bald one's her ex.

He's at 3 to 1.

When he goes down,

we'll earn about three grand.

That's just enough for the liver.

Come on!

Come on!

Christ almighty.

Is that him?

- Yes.

But Bennie, are you sure...

He already had a hard blow.

What?

Hey Vuck.

Here. Wash it.

Hey, Yugo rat. I said wash it!

Don't wear it, wash it...

Hey, who are you, man?

Someone who lost three grand

on you, a**hole.

I wanted to take a dive!

Really, but he tripped over the ropes!

That wasn't the deal...

Well, that's not my problem, it's yours.

Tell me, what shall we do?

My jumper!

We can still save it!

Well...

...he won't pay up now.

Christ almighty.

Okay. What was the job?

I'll join in. But we share.

Did you hear that? Bennie, man.

You should be happy I let you join in.

Bennie...

Here's what you have to do.

Don't mess up, eh? Fatso.

But I have a good liver.

Why don't you take mine?

No, kid.

I've had a good life.

Yours only just started.

Make something of it.

Find a woman.

Have some children.

But I'm not into children.

You weren't made to be alone, Koen.

What was it we said?

Only visits during visiting hours.

Come on.

We'll never get better this way.

They already gave up on me.

When your father dies,

it'll be your fault too.

She fell.

What's with those women?

Lt'll end in tears.

Hey!

Katia.

You had that coming, idiot.

No one can tell me what to do,

and certainly not a masked Fatso!

Filthy Fatso! Filthy dumb...

I'm not fat.

Lars?

Okay. May I have your attention?

Next Saturday we'll...

- Wash.

We're going to the airport to rob

a money transport for Milo.

So...

- So...

Martin?

- We can't make it on Saturday...

We have a contest

for the best quiche of the year.

So. On Saturday we rob

a money transport at the airport.

Are you okay?

Put some ice on it.

Koen, you wait here

in the busy-ness class lou-nge.

And how do I reach there?

How to reach there? You're not reaching

anywhere, you are to wait there.

Here. How? Why should I care?

Very well, Saturday.

We start early Saturday morning...

- She hit me with a ham.

Ham?

- I could have been dead.

What kind of ham? Ardennes? Parma?

Raw? Smoked?

- That's not the point.

Well, she caught a cold.

Stay in for a week

and she'll be right as rain.

Get lost. You can walk. Come on.

We're having a meeting.

Get lost? First you point a gun at me!

Then you kidnap me,

shoot me in the arm and freeze me...

But I'm glad that unreliable

son of a b*tch Lars is dead.

I'll take you home. Come on.

- Wait, we're in a meeting!

The Business Class lounge, right?

Saturday...

Yes?

Wash...

Saturday, we go by ambulance.

Give me that.

I want to thank you.

For not shooting me in the bank.

Come up for coffee. Or...?

- Fine.

I think I'm confused

by that whole Lars thing...

It's so weird. You get bogged down

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