All language subtitles for Quasi_en

Perhaps you've read
the story of Quasimodo,

the monstrous bell-ringer of Notre-Dame.

But more likely, you haven't,

because who still reads about
medieval France and all that bullshit?

Well, don't worry,

because we're gonna tell you
the story of the real Quasimodo.

All you need to know
is that 13th-century France sucked.

It was a time of plague, poverty
and torture chambers,

where one often found themselves
impaled by dangerous objects.

Unless you were a king
who could just dismiss your wife

when you tired of her...

or a pope humbly entrusted
with the sacred offerings of his flock.

And the last thing you'd want is to get
trapped between these two powerful pricks,

which is exactly
where Quasimodo found himself,

an ill-advised place for a nobody.

In fact, he's quite fucked.

And this is his story.

Quasi!

Quasi!

Quasi! Quasi! Quasi! Quasi!

Quasi! Quasi.

Holy shit. What is your problem?

Come on. We're gonna be late.

We are not gonna be late.

When you grow up in a bell tower,
you have a knack for keeping time.

You with your bell towers.

- Yeah.
- Hey, slow down.

- Oh, now you want me to slow down?
- Yeah. Slow down. Come on.

- You're the one who's in such a rush.
- Let's walk together, huh? Like friends.

It's a great morning.

It's springtime. The flowers are in bloom.

The air smells of peat and sweet cloth.

Whatever. I'll take your word for it.

Aw, why so crispy, huh?

Hunchback.

Hey, you know what your problem is?

Is it that I've got a fatty deposit
the size of a giant gourd on my back?

No. It's that you've given up on humanity.

You have given up on love.

Duchamp, you can't give up
on something you've never had.

Well, I'm no soothsayer,

but I think this is the springtime where
things turn around for my little buddy.

- Weirdo!
- Freak!

Morning.

Hey, "Pope Week."

"The coronation of the new queen."

These are exciting times.

Remind me to buy
more papal lottery tickets.

Oh, come on, Du. Don't waste your money.
Nobody wins those things.

Somebody's gotta win.
Why can't it be me?

Confession with the pope.

- Du, you're being ridiculous.
- Croissant!

Hey. Croissant?

Non.

- Croissant?
- Non.

- Come on. Croissant?
- Non.

Croissant?

No!

Deux croissants.

I said I didn't want one.

They're both for me.

Hey! Eat shit, asshole!

Good morning, officer.

Croissant?

Why don't you duck
when they throw stuff at you?

- What do you mean? I'm already ducked.
- I guess that's a good point.

Back to the daily grind.

Repent for your sins!

Hey, Pascal.

Hey! Good morning, Du.

Good morning, Quasi.

Stefan, how was that date?

Incroyable!

And things got very romantic.

- You devil.
- Yeah.

Matisse, what's up?

Embrace your savior!

No, it doesn't hurt that bad.

Oh, Monday, Monday, right?

Yep.

Quasi, you're late.

I know for a fact that I'm not.

Oh, that's right. I forgot.
You grew up in a bell tower.

Yeah, 'cause I grew up in a bell tower.

Oh, you gonna take mouth with me?

He gets me so mad sometimes.

Don't get worked up.

Fucker's gonna start with me on a...
On a fuckin' Monday of all things.

Hey, you may think you're hot gruel
'cause you invented that rack,

but around here,
you're just another monkey wrench.

Remember your place, Hunchback.

Settle down, Lucien.

I'm sure the king wouldn't wanna hear

that Quasi was bringing his rack
somewhere else, like Espagne.

Michel!

- Why do you let that guy push you around?
- I don't know.

- Don't let him push you around.
- I know.

Dipshits, this is Michel,
your new guinea pig.

You're gonna be torturing him
for the next couple weeks.

Get down there, shorty.

Hey. Look at this little guy.

- Bonjour. Bonjour.
- Bonjour.

Bonjour.

Bonjour.

Oh.

Hey, go easy on this one.
He's your third this month.

See if you can keep
his arms attached to his body.

- Don't worry about it.
- Never happen.

All right. Back to work.

Hey,
more fire ants in that guy's dick hole.

All right, Michel.
You ready to get tortured?

- Yes, sir!
- Yeah, come on up.

- There you go.
- This isn't too bad.

- Get yourself comfortable.
- Ooh, this is nice.

- Come on in here.
- Okay. Here we go.

My God,
his feet don't each even reach the end.

- Come on.
- That's good.

- Get the arms up here.
- Ah.

There we go.

- All right. How are you? You okay?
- Good.

We're gonna start easy.

First time working in the torture chamber?

Yep. Just making a couple extra francs
for culinary school.

Oh, a chef! Good for you.

- Yeah.
- Okay, straps too tight?

No. Go as tight as you need.

You got a real can-do attitude.
I like that, Michel.

I actually can't believe
you pay people to do this.

Huh, well, we used to test the devices
on real heretics,

but those guys said everything hurt.

- Am I right?

- Heretics.
- Heretics.

Ow. Oh!

- Are you okay?
- Yeah.

The first time can be
a bit of a shock to the system.

That's okay.

So you guys psyched for Pope Week?

Oh, my God. Here we go.

- Another Pope Week guy.
- Pope Week? I love Pope Week.

Thank you for coming here
on this beautiful day.

And on behalf of Pope Cornelius...

bless you for
the indulgences you've bought.

This will save you in the eyes of God.

Now, who wants to see an exorcism?

Care to participate, Your Grace?

Christ, Claude.

Just give these mouth-breathers
what they want.

May the Lord extend his peaceful hand
upon all of you.

And also with you.

Now split that bitch.

Brother Giuseppe.

Thanks be to God, Your Grace.

Be gone, foul behezrahoth!

Would you mind?

No, no, no, no. No, no, please!

No!

What is this papal visit next week?

France.

The French are pigs.
They all stink and eat garbage.

And the royals,
always marrying their own family.

They all have 11 fingers
and never stop bleeding.

They're all disgusting, my lord.

Goddamn,
how I hate that pompous ass, King Guy.

Postpone it.

It's scheduled with
the coronation of the new queen.

- New queen?
- Mmm.

I told him he wasn't allowed
to divorce his first wife.

He had her killed. A bit of a work-around.

Now he's married his English cousin.

The new union will form a powerful
alliance between France and England.

Oh, he'll be even more insufferable.

Damn you, Satan!

Goddamn it. This will never come off.

Say,
have you heard the joke about the bed?

No.

It hasn't been made yet.

Say,
have you heard the joke about the cookie?

No.

It's crummy.

Guards!

Boil my jester in oil.

No, no!

- No, no. No! No. No!
- Come on.

No!

Good morning, my king.

Breakfast today is wine from
the Rhône valley and fresh Belon oysters.

And where do your oysters come from,
my pet?

Your Highness,
we have a very busy day today.

Oh. Hello.

Good morning, milady.

Good morning, Henri-Francoise.

As I was saying, sire,

we have a meeting with the tax collectors
to discuss the springtime levies.

And, of course, we have to prepare
for the arrival of the pope.

Oh, Cornelius?

I hate that Gorgonzola-eating bastard.

My liege, if you hate the pope,

why not fabricate a papal decree demanding
a 200% increase in tithes from the people?

Your outraged subjects will run him
right out of the country.

Well, look at that, Henri-Francoise.

My new ornament wishes to discuss
the affairs of France.

Yes.

How adorable.

- My liege.
- Leave us.

Sire, as queen,
is it not my duty to suggest...

Leave us!

As you wish.

My queen.

I was not told
she was going to speak so much.

She's a regular smarty pantalons.

Indeed, but a small price to pay
for a powerful alliance.

A rather large price to pay for someone
who never wanted to be married again.

Yes, well.

But do look into that
phony-papal-decree idea, because why not?

Excellent idea, Your Highness.

Enjoy your oysters.

Bring me some salt!

I need some salt!

- Hey! All right. Just stop!
- Move it!

- Stop!
- All right.

Okay. Don't have to be so rough.

Hey, uh, why are the oysters up there?

Oh, it's the food of kings.

Lucien thinks it displays superiority.

You know what he should do
is get better oysters.

I mean, those are crap.

Belon oysters...

that's the food of kings.

Oh, you've had Belon oysters?

Once, when I was a boy.

It was like they were lifted from the sea
by nautical angels.

Okay,
that was 15% torque on the upper straps.

Michel, go on about the oysters.

Describe their taste.

Crisp, clean, salty.

Aw, that sounds fantastique.

Hey, enough with the chatter down there.

You know, if I was king,
there'd be Belon oysters on every table.

A king for the people.

That's a good one, you weird little loser.

Now get back to work.

Has Lucien ever shared his oysters
with anyone here?

No!

If he's gonna eat oysters in front of us,
shouldn't he bring enough for everybody?

Oui!

Hey, you know what?
Put a sock in it, Quasi.

Oysters! Oysters! Oysters!

Oysters! Oysters! Oysters! Oysters!

Oysters! Oysters! Oysters! Oysters!

Shut up! All of you!

All right.

You want oysters?
I'll give you oysters up...

My queen.

Oysters.

Your Highness, may I ask what brings you
to our, uh, humble place of work?

It's a queen's duty to familiarize herself
with all aspects of the kingdom.

I should like a tour.

Of course, Your Majesty.

Would be my privilege
to escort you around the premises.

Perhaps it would be best for me
to receive it from your superior.

That one.

Holy shit. She's pointing at me.

Yeah, right.

- Shut up. Shut up. Don't joke.
- I'm... I'm serious.

Uh, begging your pardon, my queen, but
that torturer is in no way my superior.

The way he speaks to you
tells me otherwise.

- She's coming downstairs.
- Oh, my God.

There's a queen coming down here now.

- Don't look at her.
- Okay.

- Don't look.
- It's hard. She's really hot.

Oh, my God.
I can't believe she's coming down here.

Oh, my.

Smell is exceptionally rancid down here.

Torturer, stand.

Mmm.

You seem to have the ear
of your fellow workers.

I am just a humble
subject of the king, milady.

Raise your head, torturer.

What is it you do here?

I work this machine.

Is this not the rack I hear so much about?

'Tis, my queen. 'Tis.

Hmm.

How is it that you were chosen to man
the king's most effective torture device?

I invented it, milady.

You invented it?

Yeah, in an attempt to straighten my back,

but it didn't quite unfold
as I had wished.

Smart and witty.
Seems you are very talented.

You are too kind, my queen.

Perhaps you'd have more success
if you adjusted the flywheel.

Say, 20 degrees?

Then you'd have the benefits of both
horizontal tension and vertical tension.

Uh, okay. Yeah!

That is a brilliant observation, my queen.

I will implement that immediately.

- You will?
- Yeah, " absolutement."

Not only are you a good speaker
but a good listener.

A unique combination, torturer...

Modo. Quasi Modo.

It's been a pleasure, Quasi.

I very much like your rack.

And I yours.

I mean...

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

What I meant to say was I very much
appreciate all your suggestions, my queen.

Of course.

Carry on.

Yeah. Yeah.

Are you kidding me?

Oh.

That was crazy!

Oh, my God.

All right. It's really good.

Yeah. Okay. Hold on. Hold on. A toast.

Here is to our new friend, Michel.

Hear, hear.

I actually got you the job. Hmm?
You could've mentioned that.

Du, I never had a chance.

Seems like you forgot.

Are we ignoring the fact that

there was definitely sexual tension
between you and the queen?

What?

The new guy.

That's ridiculous. She's the queen. Hello.

Michel, let me explain something.

The queen could have any dragon slayer,
wizard or chevalier in the kingdom.

Why would she care about a twisted,
lonely weirdo?

- Okay, that's a little harsh.
- I'm just making a point.

Plenty of royals have kinky fetishes.

Remember that king
that used to have sex with chickens?

Chicken a la king? Yeah.

That would make him the chicken.

Yeah. That does make me the chicken.

Cluck, cluck, motherfucker.

Michel, I am a loser.

I have never known the touch of a woman,
and I never will.

Don't be so hard on yourself.
The guys in the torture chamber like you.

You got a loyal best friend
in Duchamp right here.

Easy now, okay?

We may be hut mates,
but we're not best friends.

Yeah, those labels are kind of weird.

What are we, schoolgirls?

Who wants a drink?

- Hey, Blouin, my friend.
- Duch!

You still selling papal lottery tickets?

Yeah, but I'll warn you.
I already have the winner.

How could that be when I'm about to buy
the winning ticket?

Okay.

- Give me ten more!
- Ten more.

Du, why are you wasting your money?

I'm about to win
an audience with the pope.

Right.

And on the night of her coronation,

I'm gonna make dirty love
to the queen in the rack.

You can get executed for even saying that.

Did you change something?
You look different.

Me?

- Your hair maybe?
- My hair? No.

- Did you get taller?
- I wish.

Hey, has the lottery drawing happened?

Do you see me on that stage yet?

On behalf of King Guy XXIV,
welcome to the papal lottery.

A preliminary and lesser event leading up
to the coronation of your new queen.

Winner of the lottery

shall have his private confession heard
by the pope himself.

Yes. You.

Quasi, it's not too late. You can buy
tickets right up to the drawing.

Take it from
the unluckiest person in France,

you might as well
throw your money in a hole.

You know what?

Here. Take this. Consider it a gift.

I don't want a gift.

Please. I insist.

Du,
don't act like this is such a big thing.

Take it. On me.

All right. If I take this thing,
will you stop bugging me?

You got it.

- Okay?
- Okay.

- Great. Enjoy it.
- Thanks.

- Hope you have a winner. Yeah, right.
- Yeah.

Without further ado,
Simone, the number, please!

And the winning number is:

J, seven, two, two,

four, six.

Merde.

Oh! Oh!

That's me! It's me!

You're a woman.

The pope won't grant audience to a woman.

Oh, my goodness gracious. Give me a break.

All right, Simone. New number, please.

- F, four, three...
- Oh. Oh.

Three, three,

one.

Merde, merde, merde!

F, four, three, three, three, one?

No one?

Quasi, you won.

- Huh? What?
- Quasi, you won.

I won?

You won!

Quasi's the winner!

We got a winner here!
We got a winner here!

Quasi's the winner!

Quasi, you won!

Well, congratulations!

Bring the lucky fellow up here.

Quasi! Quasi! Quasi!
Quasi! Quasi! Quasi! Quasi!

Quasi! Quasi!

A woman and a hunchback.

What's next? A Saxon?

Simone, right?

You're not Saxon, are you?

No. Okay, right.

Hey, I wanna be tortured by a superstar!

Hop on up, Michel. Here.

Get in here.

Wow, it's so great you won!
I've never won anything in my life!

Give it your all!

Hey, hey, hey, hey!
What the hell's going on around here?

I'll tell you what's going on.

Oysters! Oysters!

- Oysters!
- Not again with the oysters!

Shut up!

Silence!

Oysters.

The king wishes to meet the hunchback.

You're gonna meet the pope and the king?

Good fortune smiles upon you, my friend.

Good thing I gave you my ticket.

Oh, wait. No, Du, of course.
You should take the ticket. You bought it.

No, no. It's cool.
I mean, I gave it to you, so...

- Technically it's mine, but whatever...
- No, no, no.

No, Du, take the ticket.

I didn't even want this.

Oh, no, no. You know what?
You take it. Have a good time.

Get me in the next one, okay?

The king awaits!

Okay.

- Are we cool?
- Totally cool, man. Have a good time.

Okay, merci.

Yeah. Quasi.

Quasi! Quasi! Quasi!

Give him one for the serfs!

I'll give him one for the torture chamber.

Go, Local 85!

Yeah!

Quasi! Quasi! Quasi!

Knock, knock!

Now you say, "Who's there?", sire.

I have to participate?

Yeah.

Who is there?

King Guy.

- What?
- No.

You say, "King Guy, who?", sire.

Oh, I really don't get it.

Guards, tar him!

- No, no!
- All right.

- Wait.
- Okay, fine.

- Feather him.
- What?

- No, no!
- Ooh, I have an idea.

What about a little of both?
Could be a fun new thing.

Please, sire.

It would be wrong
to orphan this man's children.

Fine, then.

- Kill the kids too.

- No!
- Kidding!

Guards, go easy on the tar.

- No, no, no.
- Easy now.

- No!
- Come on, Jester.

Happy, my queen?

Do something!

Yes.

Your Majesty,
I present the torturer, Quasi Modo.

Quasi Modo, my little friend.

The queen tells me that as a tormentor,
you're unparalleled.

Sire, are you aware that he is the one

who invented
your most successful torture device?

You mean my mother-in-law?

I'm joking, of course.

Of course, you are. Very funny, sire.

So, Mr. Modo,
what's it feel like to be a winner?

- Oh.
- Um.

Um, really good... Your Majesty.

Really good, indeed.

Come. Sit. Feast with your king.

Yes. Yes.

Mind your manners, pig.

Please, please. Sit.

Enjoy! Eat! Drink!

Hmm. Quite hungry.

Mmm.

The queen tells me
that you're very fond of oysters.

Well, I've never actually tried them.

Never actually tried one? Oh.

Then you must try the food of kings.

Fresh Belon oysters.

Oysters. Oysters. Oysters. Oysters.

Sweet baby Jesus.

Have another.

Another oyster, my king?

Please, call me Guy.

Okay. Thank you, Guy.

How dare you call the king of France
by his name?

- Guards, off with his head!
- What?

- You told him to do that.
- Kidding. Kidding.

Did you see the look on his face? Hilar!

Yes. Good one, sire.

Catherine, I wish to speak to Quasi alone
about things you would not understand.

So leave us.

What things?

Male things.

Foreskins, Adam's apples,
hemorrhoids and the like.

Many women suffer from hemorrhoids.

- In fact, last week...
- Leave us!

Hmm.

My new queen likes to speak
of hemorrhoids.

Sexy.

Quasi, I would like you to kill the pope.

Are you all right?

- Can you...
- Should I do...

- Do something.
- What should I do?

Should I pound his hump or...

- I don't know.
- Is there...

There may be goblins in there.
I don't know what's in there.

Get out of the way.

Good show, sire. Good show.

Um, I'm sorry, Your Majesty.

You want me to do what?

At your private confession,

I want you to assassinate the pope
in the name of France.

But it's the pope.

He's a danger to France
and a total asshole.

Henri.

Sire.

These are actual depictions
of the pope having sex with Saracen women.

Yes, and these are all very real.

Bestiality!

Oh, mon Dieu!

Butt stuff.

Oh, my gosh.

Is that mud?

It's not mud.

It's not mud.

- What's this?
- Felching. It's awful.

It looks like she's praying.

God is not in there, my friend.

He must be killed.

Your Majesty, why have you chosen me?

God chose you when you won the lottery.

And God knows
that only you can take him by surprise.

Yes. In the confessional, there will be
a dagger hidden under the bench.

You will drive that dagger
into the pope's heart.

Your Majesty, I cannot do this.

You will,
or you will be executed as a traitor.

And we'll kill
that best friend of yours too.

My best friend?

That jolly fat fellow
with whom you share your hut.

Does the name Duchamp ring a bell?

Pun intended.

I would hardly say we're best friends.

We're more like coworkers or hut mates.

You see,
he needed a place to live closer to town...

Who gives a fuck?

You will assassinate the pope,

or you and your hut mate
will be drawn and quartered,

and your limbs will be taken
to the four corners of France!

Do I make myself clear, Hunchback?

I am so psyched I gave you my ticket.

- Are you gonna kill him?
- He can't do that. It's the pope.

- You could run away.
- No, the king would find me.

And he said
he's gonna draw and quarter Duchamp.

- Why me?
- He thinks we're best friends.

- We're not best friends.
- That's what I said.

I have many best friends.

Oh, is that so?

- Yeah, that is so.
- Okay.

There's Jerome from Champagne.

Oh, wow.

I didn't realize
you'd ever been to Champagne. Hmm.

Jerome's cool!

No, he sounds cool.

- He's a butcher.
- Oh, wow.

He also trades silks.

He's been to the Orient?

Several times.

Oh, wow. He's so well-traveled.

And next time, he's bringing me with him.

Sounds like this Jerome from Champagne
is your best friend.

I didn't say that.

I don't believe in labels. Same as you.

Are you Quasi Modo?

Yeah, I guess so.

Well, Mr. Celebrity,
do you want a Black Death shot?

- Yeah, sure.
- Mm-hmm.

Um. Uh, cheers, ladies.

Thanks.

Oh, that's tasty.

Will you sign my bosom?

- What?
- Are you for real?

What is going on here?

How'd you get so clean, by the way?

The river.

Excuse me, ladies.

My name is Duchamp,
and I am Quasi's hut mate.

Uh-uh.

- No. Bye.
- Oh.

That'll be three francs
for the Black Death shots.

- I didn't even drink 'em.
- Three francs!

Fine.

Why don't you send the bill
to Jerome from Champagne?

- Maybe I will.
- Okay.

Asshole.

All right,
I think that's probably pretty hot.

Yeah, that looks pretty good to me.
I think you can stop now.

You and your main mother-plucker
over here.

What?

What is this?

Where are the cheering throngs?

Who is in charge of marketing?

But what about that though? Nice, right?

Makes me look fat.

And look at that fop.

Does he expect us to stay at the castle?

Either that or the local monastery.

Benedictines?

Cistercians.

Vow of poverty.

Hard pass.

Tell me there's at least
a welcome committee of whores.

'Twas a joke, Claude.

By the way, Your Grace,

you should know that the winner
of the papal lottery is a hunchback.

A hunchback? No! Change it.

It's all planned out...

Do you have any idea
the questions he'll have for me?

"Holy Father, can you fix my hump?"

"Is not my very existence proof
there is no God?"

I don't want to get into
that whole hornet's nest.

We should proceed, Holiness.

We must prepare for
your banquet with the king.

Do you think he'll try to poison me?

I don't know.

I'll tell you what I do know.

You're eating for two tonight.

So no filling up on stuffed olives
and the like.

Oh, don't mind me.

I'll just walk the last bit.

I feel sorry for the chicken.

Your Royal Highness,
may I present to you...

He knows who I am.

Guy.

Cornelius.

Guillotine.

- Cornholio.
- Yes.

Oh.

Still overdoing it with that same parfum?

What do you call it? Wet sheep?

And I see you're still wearing none.

Please, meet my new bride,
Queen Catherine.

Your Holiness.

Ooh. Hotchy motchy.

- How long have you two been married?
- Two weeks.

Has he shown you his third nipple?

It seems you know each other well.

We were classmates together at université.

I didn't know that.

And therein lies
the problem with arranged marriage.

Dinner is served.

I hope you like everything.

Ooh!

Sire.

So, Catherine, congratulations
on your coronation ceremony.

You'll be wearing something daring,
I hope.

I don't know that it will be daring,
but thank you, Holy Father.

I'm honored that you will be attending.

Oh, he's never one to pass up a crowd
or to soak said crowd for donations.

Guilty.

Uh, I'm sorry.
I only drink wine from a goblet.

Oh, we don't have goblets.

Oh, not a problem.
I'll just take a chalice.

We don't have "chali" either.

Well, what do you have then?

That crystal fucking wine glass
that's right there on the table.

Fine. I won't have wine.

Fine. Don't.

I shan't.

Mmm.

Cardinal Claude,
I think I prefer you in that seat.

You, man. Stand up.

- Claude, sit in that seat.
- Huh?

Pause.

That is where my man sits.

- Henri-Francoise, sit down.
- Very good, sire.

That is where the pope wishes
his man to sit.

You, up. Claude, sit.

Stand now, or I shall lop your head off.

Oh.

Henri-Francoise, sit!

I am the pope. Sit.

Okay.

Are we really doing this again
in my country?

They're all my countries.

The only reason you're here is
so you can horn in on her coronation.

And you're only coronating because you
don't have the sack to rule this country

without your new wife's big army.

Please, gentlemen. Let's enjoy the feast.

Why don't you take your papal supremacy
and shove it up your funny fucking hat?

I will not sit here
and let you take potshots at my hat!

Bring it on, bitch!

Uh, did you hear the one about the peanuts
that were walking down the street?

- Stand aside, goose man.
- They got assaulted!

Do not break this up!

Yes, sire. Oh!

Break this up right now!

- Okay, go, go!
- Yes, my Lord.

Oh! No, stop.

No, no, no, no.

I totally kicked your ass.

After all these years,
you're still a dick!

Claude, we're leaving now!

Guard! Open that door.

Guard, do not open that door.

Open that door,
or I will send you to hell.

Open that door,
and I'll make you a eunuch.

Enjoy hell.

- You ready for Confession Day?
- I don't know.

Just relax.
This is a day like any other day.

- Okay.
- Let's do this.

Quasi! Quasi.

What will you confess to the pope today?

Are you gonna ask for a new back?

Oh, yeah, like a thick back or a wide back
or a skinny back or a tall back, maybe?

Or perhaps a new face.

Because your face
is not the face that people want.

No mom would like that face.

They'd be like,
"Put it back in my vagina."

Okay. Settle down.
Move away. Let him through.

Move back. Go to work.
Give him some space.

Hey! I made my very special
Confession Day fondue.

Have a taste.

Oh! Mm-hmm.

Mmm. Mon Dieu, that's good fondue.

Sacrebleu. That's great fondue!

All right, all right.

The pope is gonna be here any minute,
so look alive.

Torturers, I want heads-up torturing.

Hey, shitbrain! Make that infidel bleed.

Uh, this is more of
a psychological torture station.

Then make him cry!

Okay.

Michel, the pope's gonna crank the rack.

Uh, if it doesn't hurt, then you gotta
zhuzh it up a little bit.

You know? Play it up. Okay?

- Yeah! I can do that.
- He's coming!

- Oh! Okay, this is it. This is it.
- Oh, oh.

- Okay. Okay.
- Okay, places!

Okay, go.

Oh, my.

Jesus H. Christ.

God.

Good God, it stinks in here.

Can we speed this up?

- Of course, Your Grace.
- Yes.

Very painful, yes.

Oh, that... Thus, the stink, yes.

Stinky eggs.

Pontiff,
may I introduce my finest employee

and your confessee, Quasi Modo?

Your Holiness.

Quasi, my faithful lamb.

God has told me so much about you.

- He has?
- He's told me everything.

- Your Holiness, I would never ever...
- Now, listen to me.

We're going to do
this confession quick and dirty.

No requests to deflate that hump

or blessings for your uncle's cat
or what have you.

- Okay.
- Hmm, get a load of stretch over here.

Are you an infidel as well?

No, uh, just a culinary student.

In fact, I made these in your honor.

Éclairs au chocolat.

My favorite!

Claude, Claude, come quickly.

Still here.

Good enough for me.

Fuck me.

That is divine!

Oh! Mmm. Mmm.

One thousand blessings upon you.

Thank you, Your Grace.

Thank you.

This must be that rack
I've heard so much about.

'Tis.

Mind if I give it a crank?

'Twould be an honor, Your Grace.

Look at me. I'm a torturer.

Get him clamped in here.

Ooh. Ah.

- Yes, yes, yes.
- Yeah.

Okay, so,
pull it thusly and push like this?

Not yet, not yet.

- The other way.
- Yes.

- Yeah.
- Very, very good. Oh!

Oh.

Ah!

- Yeah, tortured! Well done.
- Mmm, mmm.

Time for the confession!

Oh, so sorry.
I would've loved to have stayed longer.

- Hey! What...
- Yeah?

You couldn't introduce me?

Du, I'm in the middle of a situation here.
What are you talking about?

You introduced Michel!

Well, I actually introduced myself.

Okay, I've had enough of you,
Mr. Éclairs au chocolat.

Come along, Hunchback!

Duchamp Rousseau, what is your problem?

Don't you have to kill somebody?

You're a real asshole, Duchamp.

Enough monk-y business.

Leave us!

You know that feeling
when your father's on his deathbed,

and you're about to be crowned king?

No, I don't, sire.

It's a tingling feeling.
I'm feeling it right now.

Oh, yes. I can only imagine.

Are you going to start?

Or am I just going to sit here
diddling my crosier?

Oh, I... Uh, yeah, I'm sorry. Sorry.

Your Grace, is God all-knowing?

Do I shit in the woods?

I don't know. You tell me.

- I do. It's divine.
- Oh.

Though, I cannot say how pleasant
for the poor chap who has to wipe my ass.

Um, Your Holiness, I have been tasked
with something horrible,

and you're the only person
who can help me.

Hunchback, I want you
to assassinate the king.

God made a mistake
giving you a hunched back.

He will straighten out your back
in exchange for this one very small task.

He wants you to kill the king tomorrow at
the public square in front of his people.

Uh, Your Holiness, I-I...

Listen to me, Hunchman, and hear me well.

Disobey me, and God will send you
directly to Hunchback Hell

alongside that oafish
best friend of yours!

Duchamp? No, we're just hut mates.

Uh, he needed a place to live
closer to town. I was short on rent.

I don't give a resounding fuck
about your housing arrangements!

Ah, I see you found the jewel-encrusted
dagger I had placed in your booth. Good.

Now, don't let the door hit you
on the hump on the way out.

Merde.

You bastard magnifique.

Someone's getting a lot more vassals
to rule over.

Thank you, sire. I hope they're English.

Oh, do you think he'll wail like a maiden
when he finds him dead?

God, I hope so.

Holy shit,
I have to take a holy shit.

Quickly.

Bring me the hunchback.

Yes, sire.

You have exactly five seconds
to explain why the pope is still alive.

- Un.
- Well...

- Deux.
- But...

- Quatre!
- What about trois?

- Cinq!
- There was no weapon!

- No dagger.
- What?

There was no dagger in the confessional.
I didn't have anything to kill him with.

I placed it there myself,
my liege.

There was nothing there. You can check.

Probably thieves.
You know France and its thieves.

Yes, well, France certainly has thieves,
doesn't it? Especially in confessionals.

Enough!

You have left me
with unfinished business, Hunchback.

I can make it up to you.

I'm just spitballing here.
I mean, this is probably the bad version.

But perhaps we could wait
and try again later.

Say, oh, next Christmas.

Can... He would never see that coming.
Can you imagine how surprised he'd...

- Excellent idea.
- 'Tis?

Excellent idea, indeed.

Tomorrow at our public appearance
in the square, you will kill the pope.

Then my guards will subdue you, proving
the power of the throne over the church.

And then we'll reward you with wives
and money and land

and just send you on your way.

Yeah. No. I feel like
there's some holes in that plan.

You will kill the pope tomorrow,
or I will slit your throat myself!

Leave us.

I'm assuming you'll have him
publicly executed thereafter, sire?

Oh, yes.

If I can kill my former wife
for flapping her gums,

I can certainly kill one little hunchback.

Yes! Yes!

Good show, sire.

After the coronation,
and with the pope out of the way,

my power will be unchecked!

And then my new wife
will find herself quite expendable.

She's done for!

I thought so. I think so.

I love it. I love it. Top shot.

But let's keep that between ourselves.

Yes. Of course, of course.
Of course, we will.

Yes. Yeah.

Let's have another guard kill this guard.

Yes, sire. Guard!

Yes, my lord.

Kill him.

I'm sorry, who?

- Him.
- Arnaud?

I don't know his name.

No, I couldn't, my lord.
I have known Arnaud my entire life.

We came up together as squires.

I don't care if he's your brother.
Kill him.

Well, he's not my brother.
He is my brother-in-law.

He's married to my youngest sister,
you see.

- I have an idea.
- Hmm.

Would it be easier if we got a third guard
to come in and kill both of these guys?

Oh, whoops! Here we go.

Well.

That was easy.

That'll be all.

Long live the king.

- You may go.
- Thank you.

When a job is once begun,
do not stop until it's done.

Mother used to say that.

- Good work.
- Okay.

Best to your sister.

Huh, seems like a nice fellow.

Yeah, huh. Quite nice.

Did I mention I'm incredibly psyched
I gave you that ticket?

Yeah, you know the pope plans
on damning you to hell too.

We're not best friends!

Yeah, yeah, I know.
Jerome from Champagne, I get it.

Quasi! I'm not usually this guy,
but I gotta know.

What'd you confess to the pope?

Um...

Uh, well, I told him, "Pope,
my biggest sin is that I party too much."

You party too much. I love it.

Hey, how about a song for Quasi?

Now all the guys who fuck sheep.

Who's there? Who's there?

Stay away. I have no money.

I'm not afraid to fight. I have a flute.
I will shove it up your ass.

Milady.

Never such a sad song have heard I.

What stank-laden cloud
engulfs your gamy heart?

I cannot say. I've been forbidden.

Who forbade you?

I cannot tell you. I am forbidden.

Who forbade you to do that?

I cannot discuss it. I was forbode.

I hear you, but who did the forbaying?

I'm... I can't talk about it.

- Please, let's have a sit.
- Oh.

I know your predicament.

- You do?
- Yes.

The king has commanded you
to commit papacide.

Your Majesty,
that's just half of it.

And after you carry out that task,
he's going to kill you.

Oh, fuck!

Okay, he didn't tell me that part.
Well, that's bad news.

No, I was talking about how the pope
also ordered me to kill the king.

- Say what?
- Yeah.

Oh, my.

But why are we laughing?

Things have gotten dark.

I've learned the king's previous wife was
killed when she overstepped her position.

I fear I am bound for the same fate.

- Non.
- Oui.

Sounds like we're both royally screwed.

Well...

maybe we can solve
your immediate problem first.

Why bother? I don't matter.
I'm a nobody.

- You are not a nobody.
- Inventor, problem solver.

Someone as resourceful as you can
certainly come up with a solution to this.

Come.

Walk with me.

Let us conspire.

Oh.

- Hey!
- Hey, where you been?

I was outside walking and thinking.

Let's drink and forget your troubles.

No, I have a plan.

You came up with this plan
all by yourself?

Yeah, why wouldn't I have?

- Seems to work for everyone.
- Yes, it does.

Gets me off the hook
from killing the king and the pope

and, in the end,
Duchamp looks like a hero.

- I really like that part, a lot!
- Yeah.

- Thanks for thinking of me, Quasi.
- Of course.

After all, you are my...

hut mate.

Yeah. Of course. Hut mate. Right.
Yeah.

Yeah. Yeah. Big day tomorrow.
Let's do this.

Yeah.

And in closing, God smiles upon France,

in spite of the sins of its people,
its endlessly heavy sauces,

and the incompetence of its king.

Oops, I said the quiet part out loud.

Eh, glory be to God and bless you.

Subjects.

By the divine right of kings,
I am the hand of God.

And after this week's coronation,

God will make France
the most powerful kingdom in the world.

Top shot, sire. Top shot.

That all sounds lovely. Yes, yes, yes.

But, remember,

God allows the king to serve,
but he uses my mouth to convey the law.

Very important distinction.

I bet he uses your mouth
for more than that.

How about I put the foot of God
up your royal ass?

How about you try
in that dress of yours?

I couldn't miss your whole ass.

Am I right, people?

You have syphilis.

- Oh, it's the hunchback.
- Ah.

Let's bring up the papal lottery winner.

Indeed, indeed.
Bring up the lottery winner.

Oh.

Oh, no. He's a madman.

Oh. Lord help us.
He seems quite insane and dangerous.

Ah, somebody better stop me
before I kill someone.

Hold on.

Not so fast, hunchbacked infidel.

What's this?

Oh, God. There's no coming back from this.

What the fuck?

I've subdued him.

I think you did more than that.
I think you killed me.

Long live Pope Cornelius and King Guy!

Four more years. Four more years.
Four more years.

Four more years.

Uh, this corpse is an affront
to your combined excellencies.

I will take it back to my place
and pound it to a pulp with a rock.

With a rock!

So be it.
Let the hero dispose of the body.

You must have been scared.

No. You must have been scared.

No, I believe it is you who was scared.

Ow.

Come on. Hurry. Hurry.

Did you hear those people cheering for me?
That was amazing!

Okay, listen, we need to dispose
of these clothes

and make sure we weren't followed.

Buddy, it worked.

The cow guts, the fake knife,
it all worked!

It was a great plan. You should be happy.

Oh, I'm not really looking forward
to the next part of the plan.

You only have to stay here
for, like, a year.

You promise you'll come by regularly
with supplies

and news of the outside world?

Absolument.

How about I bring back
a giant sack of Belon oysters?

Oh, come on. Where are you gonna get that?

That's a good point.

You know what? At the very least,

tonight, I'll come back
with some hog anus and trough water!

Really? That's my favorite.

- Oh, and how about a bell? Want a bell?
- No.

I'll bring you a bell. Come on.

- Okay. Okay.
- All right.

- You can't ring it, though.
- Oh, yeah, I know.

Hey, it's gonna be okay. Hang in there.

Okay.

Hey, extra rare on the hog anus, please.
Just show it to the flame.

- Hey, what's up?
- Hey. Hey.

- How's he doing?
- He's doing great.

I stashed him in the cave.

- He's moody. The yoozh.
- Uh-huh.

How's the action around here?

Pretty good. Lots of talk about today.

- Oh, yeah?
- Yeah.

Anyone talking about me?

- Oh, hey. Terrible about Quasi. So sad.
- Very sad.

Oh, yeah. Super sad. Super sad. Super sad.

Um, by chance, has anyone offered
to buy me a drink tonight?

For what?

My role in today's events?

Oh, yeah. You were on stage, weren't you?

Yeah, yeah. I subdued Quasi.

Mmm, I remember him stabbing himself.

No, I subdued him.

- Are we talking about the same event?
- Yes!

Laurent,
do you remember Duchamp subduing Quasi?

- Non.
- Okay.

Shots, please.

Hey, there.

Did you see what happened to your friend,
the hunchback, today?

Did you see
who saved the pope and the king today?

Yeah, some guy.
Seemed pretty unremarkable.

Like, one of those faces
you forget about immediately.

Screw that guy. I wish the hunchback
stabbed those bastards.

Right?

- To the hunchback.
- To the hunchback.

Yeah.

- To the hunchback. Right.
- How about another?

Yeah, that's pretty good.
Who's that cool guy?

Yeah, it looks like a young Marco Polo
if his face got slammed with a hammer.

What's it feel like
to stand straight up and down?

Who is that? Who goes there?
Who is that? I have a stick.

Gotcha.

Oh, God. For crying out Pete.

Oh, no.

Ugh. I fear I've been reading far too much
Beowulf lately. I am so sorry.

- My Queen.
- Please, stand.

Any man who has your courage
need not kneel to me.

Ah. You smell
of refreshingly aromatic fragrances.

And you of stinky ones.

- What are you painting?
- Mmm?

Oh. I call that a selfie.

Why would anyone make a picture
of themselves?

I don't know,
but it is strangely satisfying.

Sometimes you have to do it, like,
five times before you get it right.

But when you do, it's a good feeling.

I see.

Well, the king and pope
believe you are dead

and seem content with that
given the secrets that you held.

- Your plan worked.
- Our plan.

Um, I've spoken to my family in England,

and they will help us get out
of the country.

Yo-You will not be queen?

The king's sole intention is
to expand his power.

After that he'll have no use for me.

He is merciless, self-centered, and petty.

You'd make a far better king than he.

Okay, my queen. That's a good one.

It is true! I saw your oyster rebellion.
You are a leader.

No.

I just believe everyone should have
the opportunity to eat oysters.

And I see your kindness.

That is why I am drawn to you.

That's a lot to digest.

Oh, speaking of which,

- I brought some food.
- Oh.

Including, of course,

Belon oysters.

Let's sup.

Aha!

Oh, yes.

You're right. This is strangely satisfying
and validating.

I don't want to, but I must go now.

- No, please don't.
- I have to.

No!

Mmm.

Thank goodness I got that ticket.

Oh, yeah.

Mmm. That was my ticket.

I deserved that ticket, and he took it.

He took my ticket from me.

He's a ticket-taker, that's what he is.

Mmm.

That is delicious Cabernet.

Whoo.

Hey, did you throw that bottle?

Duchamp?

Oh, hey. Hey, you kids. Get out of here.

These stupid kids,
they're just throwing bottles at doors.

Those little sons of bitches.

There's no respect for anything.

Fuck you!

How's the hero doing, eh?

Yeah, you know, it's okay.

You did the right thing.

I never had a good feeling
about that creepy hunchback.

- You want a sip of my bladder?
- No, no, no.

Just take a pull of my bladder.
Suck it. Take a suck.

- I'm cool. I'm on the clock.
- No?

Bladder.

- I know, it's funny. It's a funny word.
- Right? It's a good thing you said...

Hey, you know something else?

I gave him that ticket.

I know. And you got him the job
at the torture chamber.

I got him a job at torture chamber.

You're better off with that guy dead,
Duchamp. That guy was dragging you down.

You know what? He gets everything
handed to him, that guy.

He always comes up smelling like roses,
you know?

Well, if you consider being dead
coming up roses, you know...

Well, let me tell you something.
He's not dead.

Can you believe that?

That's the bladder talking.

No, I'm serious. He's still alive.

- He's out at that old cave by the lake.
- Yeah.

Yeah. Don't say anything, though,
'cause loose lips take shits.

Wait, wait, wait. I saw him die.

No, no, no. It was all bullshit.
It was a ruse.

You're telling me it was a charade?

It was a charade.

Yeah, oh, boy, okay. Hold on a second.

Everything's spinning. I gotta be careful
not to puke on my boots.

Okay, all right.

Good night to you too, you asshole.

Duchamp. You'll never guess what happened.

Oh, Duchamp, I've got great news.

Don't keep us waiting, Hunchback.
Tell us the great news.

Did you discover that your hump is filled
with gold bullion?

Yes, Lucien, you're right.
The king will be very, very happy.

And this dickwad will finally get
what he deserves.

Why don't you do your
little chant now, huh?

Oysters. Oysters. Oysters. Oysters.

Seize him.

So, you have anything to say for yourself?

I thought I would start
by telling the truth,

- which is that who I was trying to kill...
- Silence!

How dare you question the power
of your king?

Or the glory of your pope?

- Gag him.
- Yes.

Put one of your balls in his mouth.

You're only alive so we can publicly
execute you tomorrow at the coronation.

But in the meantime,

perhaps a stretch on the old rack
would be apropos.

Good idea, sire.

Is it?

Now, uh, I have no idea how this works.

Of course, you don't, you cake-eater.

Shall we see if we can't make his final
night of sleep a little less comfortable?

Good show, Your Grace.

Was it?

Oh.

Oh, well, now, uh, aren't you something?

What's your name? Lorelai?

Oh, that is a lovely dress you're wearing.
So sheer.

What a funny thing to run into you
out here

picking elderberries
in such a gossamer gown.

Is that a couple of eggplants,
or are you just happy to see me?

I love eggplants.

Oh. My queen.

Oh, you must be lost.

Um, the perfume cellar is actually,
if you go down the hallway, it's...

My, look at this painting.

Look how red her cheeks are.

Scandalous.

They're not mine.
I found these in the... In the woods.

- Mmm.
- Um. So, no.

I bet you're here for gown storage.

That's actually the-the Gautier wing.

I'm not looking for gown storage.

Okay, well, then,

if you seek neither gown storage
nor the perfume cellar, then...

Well, then the only possible explanation,

if I may be so bold...

is that you came to visit moi?

I think you just fell for me.

Now I've got you right where I want you,
you filthy little thing.

Catherine!

I'm joking.

We must get you out of here.

Oh, please do.

I implemented the notes you gave me
on the rack,

and I must say,
they worked really, really well.

This thing hurts like a motherfucker.

Thank you, Quasi.

I will repay you for this.

I swear on the souls of both my mothers.

You had two mothers?

Yeah, they were Siamese twins.

I never knew 'em.

As a babe, they put me in a sack
and tossed me in the river.

My aunt was a Siamese twin.
Well, my aunts.

When I was a child,
they produced a hideously deformed baby

with their brother,
the vicomte de Gastineau.

- Uh-huh.
- And they threw the baby in the river.

Huh. That's weird.

Let me see your back.

Oh, no, it is not a pretty sight.

- Let me see your back.
- Milady.

Oh. Oh. As you wish, my lady.

- Mon Dieu!
- All right, it's not that bad.

- The mark of the Gastineau!
- Come again?

Your birthmark is the mark
of the Gastineau.

Do you know what this means?

That I have a deformity
on top of my deformity?

You and I are

cousins.

Pfft! Non. Cousins? Impossible.

Oui, look.

Huh?

Mon Dieu! It's just like mine.

I knew I was attracted to you
for a reason.

I thought it was your honor
and compassion,

but now I know
it's also because we share the same blood.

Yeah, I was attracted to you
'cause you're super hot.

But now that I know we're cousins,
it's really awesome.

- Um, my mouth is...
- Hmm?

- Um, like this?
- Yeah.

Um, okay.

- Mm-hmm. Mmm. Mm-hmm.
- Mm-hmm.

Oh, your hump is so hard.

It seems to be getting harder.

Sire, sire, it is time.

What?

It's time.

Time for you to get out of my bedchamber.

No, sire, it's half past the cock's crow.

Half past the cock's crow?

Oh. We have a hunchback to kill.

Yes, I like it.

I stood up too fast. I'm all désorienté.

Take it slow, sire.

- Come on, I will dress you.
- Thank you.

Oh, yes.

Torture me with your body.

Yeah. Mmm. Okay.

- You want another?
- Please.

We shall kill Mr. Modo before
he has a chance to blab of our plan.

Guy, what are you doing up?
It's half past the cock's crow.

I couldn't sleep,
so I decided to take a brisk walk.

I seem to remember you
being able to sleep through anything.

Well, what are you doing up?

I am going to administer last rites
to the prisoner, as is God's wish.

Oh, last rites. I've always wanted to see
what that's about.

Ooh, sorry. Final confession
is only between sheep and shepherd.

Well, I want to know, too.

God would like you to fuck off
and go back to bed.

My dungeon, my rules.

- Um, question.
- Mmm.

If you and I are cousins,
does not that make me royalty?

Yes. You are in the line of kings.

Now, enter me with your royal member.

My lady, I'm new at this.
Enter you... where?

Qu'est-ce que c'est?

Oh, no!

My queen!

Thank God you're finally here.

What happened?

Well, he called to me with his siren song.
I was hypnotized.

I have heard tell
of the sweet song of the hunchback.

Then he strapped me here and left
hours ago. So many, many hours.

- Let's go!
- Out of the way!

Okay, fine.

Assholes.

That was something.

Indeed. Yes, you must be so relieved
that the queen is safe.

Of course, of course.

But you must be terrified with that
lumpy little maniac on the loose.

Why should I be terrified?
You should be terrified, not me.

I'm not terrified. You heard the queen.
He's long gone.

There's no way we're going to...

Catch him.

Ah, yes, of course.

So it's really no big deal then
if we never do...

Find him.

- Find him and kill him.
- What?

Find that little shit
and kill him.

You want me to go take a shit?

Why? Do you have to?

- I don't have to.
- Then why would you?

Find him
and catch him so he does not speak.

Bind his ankles to his cheeks?

Quasi.

- Oh, the little hunchback?
- Yes.

You can't call them hunchback.
You have to say orthopedically challenged.

- My apologies. Yes.
- No, no, no, it's a whole, you know.

Yes.

Weird weather we're having.

I know, I know,
we were just saying that. So weird, weird.

Ah, garlic, I... Mmm.

You know what would be great?
Maybe some Brie.

Oh, these top shelves are so handy.

Michel.

Quasi.

Whoa, you are fuckin' tall, mon frére.

Things are very dangereuse, Quasi.

Then it's dangereuse for Duchamp as well.
I need to warn him.

Let's rendezvous at Dupont Fork
in one hour.

I'm rendezvousing
with Queen Catherine there as well.

Name drop much?

Duchamp! Mon Dieu!

Duchamp, I am so sorry.

Holy shit, it's bright.

Du! Get up.

- Oh, my fuckin' head.
- Get up!

Oh, God.
What are you, weighing in at 19 stone?

Okay. My balance is... is... is... fakakte.
Okay. Oh, Jesus.

- Are you drunk?
- Hold on.

What are you doing here?
Shouldn't you be in that cave?

Du, so many incredible things have
happened since we saw each other last.

Oh, yeah, let me guess.

You won another lottery,
and you rode a dragon

- to the top of Mont Ménage à Trois.
- No.

- You sixty-nined a unicorn.
- No.

You slid down a rainbow
into a chocolate river.

- Okay...
- Where there was an orgy.

- Okay, Duch...
- With wizards.

No. I was captured by the king.

And then, my new lover,
Queen Catherine, freed me.

We're running away together
to the Amalfi Coast.

And then,
it's off to Barcelona in wintertime.

Listen to yourself.

My new lover, Queen Catherine?

- Yeah.
- Barcelona?

Oh, I also learned
that I'm cousin to the queen.

Oh, come on!

Okay, look, we gotta go.

You're lucky the guards didn't grab you
at the cave last night.

I have no idea how they found me.

Only the queen, Michel,
and you knew about that cave.

But none of you
would ever tell anybody about that.

Well, I-I... I may have told one person.

What?

And that person may have been Lucien.

Why would you do that?

'Cause the plan didn't work.

I was supposed to be the hero,
but you were!

And then I went to the cave, and I saw you
in there with the queen, laughing.

So you told Lucien?
Didn't you realize what would happen?

That was my ticket.

Duchamp, you betrayed me.

I used to be the big swinging dick
in this relationship.

You were just sad, lonely Quasi,
and I was big, jolly Duchamp.

Everyone knew my name.

"How's it hangin', Champ?
What's up, Duch?"

I didn't have to be your friend.
I took pity on you.

Okay, well,
let me tell you something, Duchamp.

You may have once been
the big swinging dick,

but now that big swinging dick
has swung back in the other direction.

And I can tell you one thing for sure.

I never would have betrayed
my best friend.

Well, that's perfect,
'cause we're not best friends.

You put a knife in my back.

Get him!

Stop him!

Get him!

Merde!

Let go of me! Let go of me!
Hey! Let go of me!

Get off of me!

Oh, God, I'm so hungover. Come on.

Behold, the best friend
to the criminal Quasi.

What? We're not friends.

I stopped him from killing the king.
I was the hero.

What are you talking about?

Up there on the stage. I stopped him.

Does anyone here remember that?

I definitely remember
the handsome hunchback.

Are you kidding me?
It happened right there.

Where is the hunchback?

I have no idea.

Well, perhaps a public torturing at
the coronation will refresh your memory.

Unless, of course,
the hunchback is here listening.

Perhaps he'd like to show himself
to save his best friend.

I told you, he's not my friend.
I hate that twisted, creepy virgin.

He's not a virgin anymore!

Who said that? Show yourself.

- Enough. Take him away.
- Yes, sire.

Wait, hold on, okay, hold on. We can talk
about this, right? Hold on. Hold on.

Leave me alone.
Where are you taking me?

Stop! Stop it!

Michel.

Ah, Quasi. How'd you see me?

What are you talking about? I see
your head sticking out of the bush.

You should try hiding.

I am hiding. I'm behind a bush.
It's like the tallest bush in the forest.

Yeah, okay, come on. We gotta go.

We have a long journey ahead of us.

Here, I think it's this way. Yeah.

Hey, I brought a little food
for our journey.

You're bleeding.

Oh, yeah. It was a knife from the guards.
Stuck in the fatty deposit of my hump.

Thank goodness for this thing, huh?

The queen.

Catherine.

I saw your friend's head above the brush.

I don't think it was me.

You guys weren't kidding.

Oh, my, you're particularly ripe today.

It's been a busy day.

Oh, my God. You're wounded.

Oh, no, no, no. I'm fine.
My hump stopped the guard's knife.

Thank goodness for your hump!

My hump is great!

Oh, now you're free
to go start your new life.

Here are your supplies.

But you're not coming?

They know you're alive.

If I go with you, they'll undoubtedly
find us and kill us both.

I will stay
and go through with the coronation.

The king killed his last wife.

He'll need me for a while
to solidify his alliance.

Before I become obsolete, perhaps
I can find a way to change my fortunes.

I cannot let you do this.

There's no other way. You must go now.

The ferryman waits for you
at Canard's Crossing.

He will go without you.

Here's some money.

Catherine.

You must go now. Please.

What about Barcelona?

Perhaps Barcelona is in our future.

But for now, farewell, Quasi.

We should get going.

- Where's Duchamp?
- Captured by the guards.

Captured? Well, we have to go help him.
He'll be tortured.

- There is nothing we can do.
- He's your best friend.

He is not my best friend!

Well, he gave you
the winning lottery ticket.

That sounds like a best friend.

He helped you fake your death to save
your life. That sounds like a best friend.

He betrayed me, and the last thing he said
when he was captured by the guards

was that he was not my friend.

And he called me a creepy, twisted virgin.

I am not a virgin anymore!

- Who'd you have sex with?
- Bonjour, read the room.

- Yeah.
- Quasi,

of course, Duchamp said mean things
about you so you wouldn't try to help him.

He said it to save you
because he is your best friend.

Fuck him.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome
to the coronation of your new queen!

Why am I walking? I am the guest of honor.
I should be in a gilded carriage.

You're lucky you were even invited.

Sire, what have you heard
of the escaped hunchback?

No news. Apparently, he's in the wind.

Yes, he seems gone,
so you have nothing to worry about

until your husband leaves you
face down in a moat.

Oh, pretty flowers, yes.

I beg your pardon, Holy One?

And now, on to the entertainment.

We have a delightful opening act.

The torture and disembowelment
of the traitor Duchamp Rousseau.

Get off of me.

Get off!

You traitor!

That's Quasi's hut mate.

Um, apparently,
he needed a place closer to town,

and Quasi needed somebody
to share the rent or something like that.

This will all be over quickly
if you just tell us what we want to know.

Ha! I torture people for a living.
You guys are amateurs.

As you wish. I will ask you again.
Duchamp Rousseau, where is the hunchback?

Suck mon dick.

Well, that should be quite easy to do

with your scrotum nailed
to that tree stump.

Guards.

What?

Scrotum! Scrotum! Scrotum!

Hold on a second, guys, hold on.

Scrotum! Scrotum! Scrotum!

Ow, ow, ow, okay, okay, hold on.
You don't have to do this.

Ooh, I feel it in my balls.

I feel it in my throat.

And how does that feel?

Frankly, it tickles.

Ah, tickles.

Guards, prepare the disembowelment.

Oh, boy.

Your Majesty, surely we should not mar
our joyful celebration

with such barbarism.

Oh, poppet,
do let us have a little bit of fun.

Bonjour, assholes.

Oh.

Why don't you "douchebaguettes"
pick on someone half your size?

- Quasi!
- Hunchback.

Mon Dieu!

Did you nail his scrotum to a tree stump?

What is wrong with you people?

Hunchback, you've taken our bait.
You're far outnumbered. Guards!

- Hi, guys.
- Michel!

- Is that your scrotum?
- Yeah.

Hurry, Quasi. Release your friend.

- What?
- Yes, get me out of here.

- Hang on.
- Shoot me and your alliance dies, Guy.

Let's not shoot the queen then.

- We gotta go.
- There. That's it.

- Hold on.
- What?

Ooh.

Sire, shall we kill the others?

No. Capture them alive
so we can torture them together.

Of course, sire.

Send a warning shot.
Shoot over their heads.

- Yes, milord.
- Oh, boy.

Ooh.

Get the nail out.

No, Michel!

Why?

Whoops.

I said shoot over their heads.

I don't think any of us
thought he was that tall.

Michel, hang in there.

In the seven-course meal of life,
this is my crème brûlée.

- So promise me something.
- Name it.

I've never seen the equal of
the friendship that you and Duchamp share.

You are best friends.
Promise me that you will be forever.

I promise we will be best friends.

As do I.

Not BFs, but BFFs.

Forever.

You know,
I'm not even sure that that was my arrow.

I saw it come out of your crossbow.

You know what? That was Gregor's. Gregor!

Duchamp, Michel helped me realize

that when you told Henri
that you were not my friend,

you were doing it to save me
because you are my friend.

No, I wasn't. I was fucking pissed at you.

But that would have been really cool
if I thought of that.

I'm... I'm sorry.

I'm not mad at you for what you did.
I'm mad at you for lying about it.

I'm really sorry, milord.

Sit in the carriage.
I'll talk to you later.

- What, now?
- Right now, yes. Go.

- I have a second request.
- Anything.

Please give me a proper
and thorough burial.

I don't want the animals eating me
for dinner. That would be ironic.

- No.
- No.

No!

Well done.

Catherine, are you really in cahoots
with that hunchback?

Don't be so naïve, Guy.

Not only are they in "cahoosion,"
but she's clearly shagging the man.

That's impossible.

Oh, it's very possible.

- Oh! Hit that shit, Quasi. Hit that shit.
- Yeah, right. Really?

No, sire, it's impossible.

Guards, take the hunchback's head.

And use your dullest blade.

Such is the fate of the mangled,
lonely weirdo. Eh, Hunchback?

Un. Deux.

Trois!

Stop!

- He is royalty.
- What?

Fuck no!

The hunchback is
a member of the royal family.

He who lays a hand on him
shall pay the ultimate price.

Nonsense.

He bears the mark of the Gastineau.

- Oh, look.
- Oh, but look at that. Yeah.

It can't be.
It must be dirt or a wine stain.

Are you sure it's not jelly?
Sometimes I get jelly on my shoulder.

Oh, he is of royal blood.

Oh, stand up and kill him anyway.

Wait, sire.

Is this how you treat a loyal subject who,
on your orders,

tried to assassinate the pope?

I'm sorry, what's that now?

The king asked me to kill you,
oh, Holy One.

Guards, put his head on the stump.

Guards, hold.

Hunchback, are you saying
that the king ordered you to kill me?

He did, Your Grace.

Just before you commanded me
to assassinate him.

You did what?

That's enough. Papal guard, shoot his man.

What?

You just killed my man.

Oh, shit.

Guards, shoot his man.

Fuck you, Your Grace.

Is this what you want?
Surely, you want more from a leader.

We're not sure!

And we know no other way!

There is another way.

I was once like you.
I thought I didn't matter.

But I've learned,
with the help of my friends...

that I do.

So do you.

He's kinda right.

If this sad, lonely hunchback
can sit at a table with the king

and dine on oysters, you can, too.

Oysters!

We can all eat oysters!

- Oysters! Oysters!
- Oysters! Oysters!

Oysters! Oysters!
Oysters! Oysters! Oysters!

So this is that oyster chant
I've been hearing about.

What a catchy little ditty.

Oysters! Oysters!
Oysters! Oysters! Oysters!

Enough!

The next person to say "oysters"
will be disemboweled.

Oysters.

I want to say it was
that fellow in the green...

Oh! Who threw that?

What, what? Oh!

Oh!

As your king, I command you to stop.

Ow! Kettle in the stomach!

Eat shit, Guy! Quasi gets us!

Get control of your people.

How dare you come into my country and...

You know what? I've had just about enough
of you and your country.

You can't stab me. I'm the king.

Well, now, you're a king on a stick.

We all saw
that he was asking for it, right?

I mean...

Goddamn it, I'm the pope.

Good luck finding a cool breeze in hell.

None of this would have happened if
you weren't so jealous of my new alliance,

you prick.

You're the prick.

You were a prick when we dated,
and you're still a prick now.

What?

Oh, poop!

I'm the prick?

You're the one who cheated on me
at université with Jacques Chouinard.

What? You cheated on me
at université with Jacques Chouinard.

What's happening?

Who told you that? I loved you.

And I... loved you.

I still love you.

And I, you.

Whoa. That plot thickened a lot.

Du.

Du!

How you doing, Du?

Amateurs. They nailed me

- through the skin of the sack.
- So stupid.

A professional would have gone
right through the testicle.

Huh, I remember my first scrotum nailing.

- In fact...
- Yeah.

You were there, my old friend.

- I was, my old friend.
- Yeah.

- My old friend.
- Yeah. Yeah.

And I'm not just saying that
'cause of Michel.

- Ah.
- There is no Jerome.

You are my best friend.

And you mine.

I've never even been to Champagne.
I hear it's lovely.

Duchamp, we will go to Champagne together.

And we will drink much, much wine.

Aw.

Subjects of France,
kneel before your new king.

Yeah! King Quasi!

Come, Quasi. Your kingdom awaits you.

Go, go, my friend.

We're not kneeling
because of the birthmark.

We like what he has to say.

King Quasi!

Yeah!

And so it was,
a new king was crowned.

A king unlike any France had ever known.

And the country flourished,

for it was ruled by a king and queen
who valued merit, virtue,

and decency.

A king and queen of the people.

- You like oysters?
- Of course.

Right, who doesn't?

Hey. Hey.

- Yeah?
- Clean.

- Oh.
- Yeah.

You got it.

- Down the hatch.
- Mm-hmm.

Mmm. Mmm. Mmm! Oh.

- Food of kings.
- Yeah, yeah. And queens.

- Oh!
- Oh.

Hold on a second.

- Oysters! Oysters!
- Oysters!

Oysters! Oysters! Oysters!

Oysters! Oysters! Oysters! Oysters!

And their reign lasted many years,

and they conquered many foes
and ate many oysters.

But that is a different story.

Look at how these guys do it.
See how they do it?

- Here, do you wanna go?
- Oh, no, go. You're good.

- Okay.
- You're doing a great job.

May our dear friend, Michel Domeck,
forever rest in peace and find happiness.

Quasi, I think we need a bigger hole.

Oh, shit. Um...

Oh. Oops.

Good?

Okay.

Okay, well...

We didn't quite get it.

Yeah, we're not good at this.

Not enough dirt.

- We got close, huh?
- Yeah, we did.

- Action.
- Oh, can you bring a hollandaise sauce

for the hog anus?

Béarnaise sauce for the hog anus?

Oh, could you bring an au jus
for the hog anus, please?

- All right, good?
- No.

Oh, could you bring some orange marmalade
for the hog anus, please?

Oh, could you bring some Cool Ranch
Doritos for the hog anus, please?

Okay, now I'm done.

They know you're alive.

If I go with you,
they'll undoubtedly find me...

find us and kill us both.

- The king killed his last wife.
- I still have another line.

Oh, sorry.

I find the horse very distracting.

He will go without you.

Now, here is some money.

But a word of caution.
Do not pay the ferryman...

Hold on a second.

I promise not to hit your nuts.

I'm not aiming for them.

I'll give him one for the torture chamber.

Oh, fuck.

This is my second day. I...

It's not your second day.
I saw you in a previous scene.

Cut. Fire him.

Oh, oh.

Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.
Cramp, cramp, cramp. Shit.

Jerome's cool, and his face is straight.

Is that... Oh, really?

Yeah, mm-hmm.

Okay.

A friend with a straight face?

- Come on. You don't have many of those.
- Yeah.

- I'll tell you that.
- Yeah, no... No shit.

I can't help but notice all these
important looks you're throwing at him.

What the fuck is going on over here?

He'll be even more insufferable.

- Stick with it.
- Okay, I can't look at him.

Hey, shitbrain.

Hey, shampoo model.

Hey, muscular old lady.

Oh, it's Pascal.

And I, m-mine.

Oh. Oh, my.

Cut!