All language subtitles for King.Dave.2016.DVDRip.400MB.Ganool.is

Fuck it, man!

Yo. I get to this party.

Don't know anybody!?
Now that's unusual. Seriously!

I got invited by one of my boy's boyz.

But neither my homeboy or my homeboy's
boy is here, but it's cool, you know.

It don't bother me.

Got people skills down, man!

I'm like... I'm like the contact king!

Oh yeah, oh yeah!
Contact king! Contact king!

Stan talkin'' to people.

Yeah, so, yeah...

Check out the apartment.

Everything's pretty normal.

Pretty boring even,

except... in the living room.

The living room is this black gang's turf.

Guys that look so mean, everyone is bouncing
from the living room the second they walk in.

I ask around.

Nobody knows 'em.

Dude says the guy whose crib we're in
is fuckin'' scared.

Fights, theft, vandalism.
Scared, you know.

But me, I think these guys look fuckin'' massive so...
I go up and talk to 'em.

One of them reaches into his pocket for a smoke...

Yo, cigarette?

Who's this guy?

Yeah. Thanks, man.

Then I back off. I let my move do its work...

Yo, you wanna burn a spliff, man?

Yeah, man! In the bag!

Yeah, yeah. Sweet man but I ain't got nothing
on me, man, I can't cut in with...

Yo, bro, we look like trailer trash to you, man?
Hmm?

We look like fuckin'' bums?

Yo, just playin'', man!
Yo, no worries, bro. We're used to the shit, man.

Yo! Fuck it, man.

Not even been 30 seconds
and they're callin'' me bro.

I'm fuckin'' massive, man!

I park my scrawny white ass on the floor,
and shit happens.

We smoke blunt after blunt.

Passin'' around cones big as baseball bats.

It's real simple:
that night, you name it, we smoked it.

So now I'm fuckin' stoned.
Couldn't recognize my own mother.

Then one of the niggaz starts talkin'' schemes.

Type of shit you don't wanna hear,
and you're better off not knowin''.

So I play the stoned kid mumblin'' the words
to the track that's playin''.

That's when the biggest dude gets up
in front of me like

"you ain't got no choice but to listen".
And he starts telling me that...

We're looking for a guy out to make some cash.

But for that to happen, to make the cash,
the guy has to do a job.

Stealing radios.
Car radios, Tiburon radios.

So... Here.

We sell the radios to some Arabs.

The Arabs take a chip out of the radios
and put them in shitty satellite TV decoders.

Then they sell them at flea markets.

Come, come, come.

Hey, man,
you're the perfect guy for the job.

Me?
- You.

So like I explain that it just really ain't my shit.

I've never done that. I don't have the...
The fuckin'... what's the word...

The fuckin' prerequisites, man!

Yo, man! It's my bro, man.
This guy is my bro.

I think that's what I said, but...
I'm so high, they're so pushy.

I ended up saying: OK.

After that, I can't remember a fuckin' thing.

But the important pan is
that I wake up at home.

Fuckin' ripped, but home.

Then I'm in like, boxer shorts,
I get up to get some water

''cuz my mouth is fuckin'' dry, and the phone rings.

10:27, mam?!
Who the fuck is it?

Hello, who's this?
- Yo, bro!

Yo who the fuck is this?!
- Yo chill, chill, man.

Fuck. One of the bras from last night!

How you callin'' me at home, man?

Yo you kidding me?!?
- No.

You gave us your phone, cell and page number, man.
And we gave you a ride home.

Fuck! Then he tells me I have...
- 3 days to do 10 Tiburons.

If it's not done in 3 days,
we slice your dick off.

Man. Me saying yes was a joke!
I don't need the cash, I'll pay you back.

No no no. Yo, whose weed was you smoking?
- Yours. Fuck.

Yep. That's it.
- Thanks a lot. I'll pay for it!

No way. You do this job, or we'll machete your ass.

And you told us you were a pro.

I said that'???
- Yeah, man.

Fuck...

Now he's getting fuckin' violent,
talking about fuckin' machetes.

I almost left a skid mark in my boxers.

Alright, man, alright.
I'll do the fuckin' job.

How much?

Only 200?!?
OK, OK, it's all good: 200.

Yes, yes, all good.

Yeah, OK. In 3 days.

Me and my big mouth...

Fuck!

I am fuckin' terrified just thinking
what I have to do here, 'cuz I have to do it.

I could go to the cops but what's that gonna do?

They'd tell me not to do anything the niggaz say.

Not to worry, that the niggaz are just fuckin' with me
and to call them back if I hear from them again.

But the problem, man, the fuckin' problem,

is if I don't do what they say, the niggaz
ain't gonna come begging me to work for them.

But to fuck me up.

A fuckin' beating. That's how it's done.
I know the game.

Right, man, I have to take a piss.

You know,
there's projects in my hood.

We ain't poor but you know, we live
close to the projects, and projects mean gangs.

Sucks but that's what it is.

OK, I need to think.

Just gotta kick my shitty ass.

OK, first, I gotta do it at night.

That means I can't work next 3 nights.

So I phone my job, say I'm sick.

Man I am so fuckin' sick right now,
I can't work till like...

Saturday... or something.

Hey this better be a joke, dude,
we're already low staffed.

Sorry, no choice: sick.

And if you ain't happy about it, you can shove
your fuckin' job up your fuckin' ass!

Good one.

Second, I have no fuckin' tools...

So that night...

I go to my mother's...

Hi.

So, work?

OK.

You like it'?

You used to like it.

So, thinking about going back to school?

Mom...
- Because you know, David, school is key.

A diploma opens doors.

She starts in with these fuckin' shitty questions
about school and the future.

What do I wanna do with my life
'cuz according to her I can do anything.

She's like a fuckin' broken record!

I'm gonna go to University, I'm not stupid.

Fuck, man, ain't I allowed to live a little!

What are you doing?

It's OK! I'm just going to the garage. Relax!

Like a moron. Don't know what I'm looking for.

I've never stolen a car.

A wire hanger'?!?

Pfff, fuckin'' urban legend, man.

So I grab this metal slat.

A crowbar. Just in case.

Where are you going with that?

None of your fuckin' business, man!
- David!

And stop following me!

She is so fuckin' annoying!

I walk.

Look around.

No alarm system.

Nobody.

Fuck with the slat.

Fuck! Jiggle.

Jiggle again.

Ah, fuck ii.

Grab the radio.

Run as fast as I can, shaking all over.

Stop in the park.
Jump in the bushes.

Pull out the spliff,
pre-rolled ''cuz I thought might need it.

3 days later, 4 of the bra come around my crib,
the big one first.

I'm nervous, shaking like a leaf,
like when the cops pull me over but I'm clean.

I know there's no reason to shake.

As soon as they walk in,
I give them the radios, they give me the $200.

Real simple.

They fuckin' respect me now man.

We really thought you was joking
when you was saying you're a pro.

You're not a bum, man.
You're a gangsta, a real G!

We'll check you out for other jobs. OK?

Yeah, yeah, alright.
We'll see.

So like everybody I know who just made mad cash,
I call all my boys up to tell them we're going out.

Implying that I'm buyin''.
And I'm going to buy, man!

So I tell them to meet
at St-Laurent/Prince-Arthur at 9:30.

Thanks for the ride, man.

I'll call you.
- See ya.

Just before going out, my chick drops by the crib.

I really want to fuck, man.
Release the pressure of the last three days!

And I haven't seen her for like a week
'cuz of her fuckin' classes.

But she ain't into it,
it's that time of the month again, turns her off.

Not here. Too many people.
- Ha! Come on!

Fuck, you're hot.

I wanna dance.
- No! Not now.

Come.
- No. We just got in.

OK, do what you want.
- Maybe after a couple of beers.

Fuck, she's hot.

Quarter to one.

I'm fuckin' drunk, man.

Steering away from the Blacks.
I could wind up agreeing to do shit I don't wanna do.

Especially now, that I've gained some confidence.

Ah... yeah?

Here.

A MILF just gives me her number,
but I'm like totally engaged.

If ever.

Ah... OK...
Sorry, ma'am.

So I put in my treasure chest.

Yo, guys. Yes sir!

Round of Shots! Round of Shots!

Nah-no, man. My turn to pay!
- Nan, man.

Keep your dirty money. I'm buyin''.
You put that on my tab.

You want one?
- Sure.

Yeah, man!
The barmaid is in love with us!

Then man, one of the niggaz starts kicking it
with my girl on the dance floor.

Pisses me off!
But I keep my cool, thinking she'll brush him off.

Not happening

I go see her on the dance floor,
I pull her off to the side... gently.

Sorry. Two seconds.

What are you doing?!?

I'm sorry, I'm drunk.
I'm just dancing, trust me.

I love you.
- Yeah, me too. Me too.

Round of shots boys.

Let's do it again.
- I just ordered, man.

Again. Same thing, OK?

Liquid Cocaine.
Another one?

Haha, just joking, kidding.

She's still dancing with the fucker.

Stop. Zoom in on the nigga's hand
on my girl's ass.

Fuck it, he's dead, man.

I run across the dance floor like a fucking tornado.
I push the dude.

Yo man, what's your problem?
- Dave, what are you doing?

Getting sober fast.

That's my chick, man!

Ark.
- Yo, chill, bro.

Fuck your bro, man.
I ain't your bro. I'm nobody's bro, OK!

Watch your mouth.

You watch out. You don't know who lam.

You're looking for trouble!?
- Absolutely. Want to take it outside?

Then, man, he turns, like he was looking
for his buddies, I grab him by the collar.

I don't think you wanna fight.
I got three years of kung-fu on me.

That's one of my flaws:
when I'm drunk, I'm a fucking liar.

No worries.
I've been Thai boxin'' for 5.

You fat fuck.

Fuck! Nobody moves, we're just feelin'' each other out.

Not sure about his Thai boxin''.
I mean, if I can bluff, he can too.

I feel much stronger thinkin''
that he's lying so that's what I tell myself.

Take it a bit further.

Come on, let's go outside.

Let's go.

Fuck! No choice, I follow him.

My friends are nowhere.
My girl disappeared.

I'm gonna take one hell of a beating.

The bouncer sees me going.

Like he knows what I'm up to
and that I probably won't come back.

Have a nice evening, sir.

I just feel like telling him to go fuck himself,
but I just focus on what I gotta do.

Outside.

St-Laurent, man.
St-Laurent.

I still got my back to him, he pushes me.
I'm fuckin' drunk so I fall over.

I try to grab a parking meter
while I'm dropping but I can't hang onto it.

I bust my face on a container
and then crash down to the street.

Blood everywhere. On me, on the container, in my mouth.
Pieces of broken teeth too.

I tell myself I have to get up and kill this guy.

But as I put my hand on the ground,
I realize there's something wrong.

My shoulder fuckin'' hurts.
I get up, screamin''.

Man, my shoulder is down to here.
My arm feels like jello.

The nigga bounced.

The slut waitress that took care of us all night
was on the sidewalk.

Do you really think I'm gonna let you go
without paying your bill?

Yelling I was leaving without paying my bill.

The bouncer was there too.
Laughing his ass off.

He grabbed my hand.
Popped my shoulder back into place.

I was about to scream.

Nothing came out. Felt good.

So.
- So. Thanks!

I went back inside to pay my bill:
193 bucks.

Plus 50 as a tip so she doesn't think I'm cheap.

On my way out, the bouncer tells me:

You're never coming back here. OK?

Yes, OK.

As if I need to be told, man.

The next day? Dental Emergency.
2 teeth pulled, 3 fillings, no insurance.

$472.36.
Fuck the mad cash!

I'm walking home from the dentist.
My mouth, like fuckin' cauliflower.

Can't smoke, can't feel my lips.

I could be fuckin' slobbering all over the place
without knowing it.

Everything is playing back in my head
like a shitty movie.

I'm pissed off.
I just wanna get into a fight.

I feel like rippin'' the head off every guy I see,
but I keep it cool.

'Cuz I know that I ain't exactly on a winning streak.

Get to my house, still fuckin' raging.

After pounding the wall 2 or 3 times...

I start to chill out.

Hit the couch, with a cold one.

Shit, man, I could down a twelver.

Turn the TV on, flip the channels.

I go around the channels 2 or 3 times,
leave it on some American cop show.

Cops running after people.
Usually blacks.

As if black people were the only ones
stirrin'' up some shit.

I get up to get another beer.

Something doesn't feel right.

Ah no, man.

I don't remember leaving my blanky like that.

I can feel it, but can't put my finger on it.

Can't be the niggaz. I did their fuckin' job.
Unless they wanted to jack me?

What the fumes?
My Pager goes off.

A voice message.
I call back.

Listen to it.

Dave, I had a few things at your place.
I came by to pick them up.

Left the keys on the bed.

Don't call me. Ever. OK?

I'm dead serious.

And by the way I know about the car radios.

And with the show you put on last night.

You're a real asshole, Dave.

A real asshole.

Fuck.

She took her fuckin' things.
Bitch! Man!

The biatch is dumping me because of this stupid shit?

No, no, no.

Hello? Marc?

Didn't even ring.

I was about to call Nat. You know what, man?
She came to get her things.

Yeah, yeah, man, looks serious and shit.

No, man. She didn't sound like she was joking.

Yes, man, easy to say!

Na-no, sorry. You're right.

Alright, except that it fuckin' cost me!

It hurts like a motherfucker.

No way, man, I didn't go to the ER for that.

The dentist told me my shoulder
would probably hurt for a while.

Man, if I ever cross that nigga again, man.

What?

Yeah.

Now, he tells me the nigga was wearing gang colors,
a gang from St-Francois in Laval.

The BFTs. I know them.

By reputation.
Freaks. Fuckin' freaks.

So there's a chance that my nigga is with that gang.

Any other time, I would never think of jackin'' a BFT.

But man, this ain't any other time.
Fuck no, man!

Shit, this nigga just hurt me like real fuckin' bad.

I can feel my fuckin' temperature risin'.
I'm boiling, man!

A fuckin' volcano, man. I wanna get him back, man.
I want him to be hurt like I was hurt.

I want him to regret talking shit
in front of his boys just for show.

But what I really want is for him
to understand he can't jack just anybody.

'Cuz I ain't anybody.
Oh shit no, man!

So I get it in my head
to drive out to St-Francois in Marc's car.

And Marc, 'cuz I ain't got a license.

All this just to find my nigga.

Yo Marc, can I ask you something?

Could you come over, man, I ain't feelin' that great.

You know, I just rather not be alone right now.

Yeah.

Yeah OK, cool.

I'll be waiting.

You're right, man, that's what friends are for.
You're right.

Don't worry, I won't call her.

Got better things to do.

I'm trying to...
I try to think up a plan.

Just in case we actually find this nigga.

The smell of Nathalie creeping up my nose.

The eyes of the nigga acting tough in the club.
Nathalie's message playin' back in my head.

Too many things at the same time,
in this little head of mine.

Shit, I can't think straight.

Thinking of Nat with some other guy.
I'm going crazy.

I shouldn't give a fuck, but my head keeps on spinning.
Focus, focus on the nigga, Dave.

Away to get revenge, to punish him for all this shit.

Nat must already be with some other asshole.

Freaking out, stories get mixed up.
I just can't see straight. And all of a sudden...

Don't know why I hadn't thought of it before.

If my nigga is in a gang like the BFTs,
say I track him down, say I get him alone

and say I fuckin' beat his ass, he won't just
leave it like that, he'll start lookin' for me.

And him and his crew are gonna fuckin'
beat me even worse. Worse than worse, fuck.

End of story.

I gotta get him alone.

And figure out a way so he won't recognize me.

Like...

Ski mask.

Yo man.

What's up?

It's been almost a week me and Marc ride the streets
of St-Frank's everyday to find Stanley.

That's what we call my nigga.
Easier. We understand each other, we communicate.

We're getting to know St-Francois a bit too well.

We've been all over the fuckin' place, man.

Everywhere: poly, schools,
arcades, parks, convenience store parking lots,

shopping malls, e-ve-ry where, man.

We ran into a few BFTs.
- But not Stanley.

But what's really cool is that Marc offered his help
without me even having to ask.

Yo Dave, man, you have to find this guy.
It'll help you unload all this stress.

Just forget about her, man.
It's crazy! What she did to you.

You know what, man?

She's just a little slut.

That's what he said,
and I'm thinking he's absolutely right.

That's what friends are for, man:
to get you back on track.

Sometimes...

I think it's weird 'cuz Marc
was actually a friend of Net's.

I start thinkin' he's gonna tell her what we're doin'.

It's not like I'm tellin' Marc all this stuff,
so he can like smooth things over with Nat.

But I know I can trust him.

Shit, man, she...
she always does that, man.

You saw her on the dance floor, all slutty and shit?
What I'm supposed to do?

Stand there like an idiot while she's kicking
her shit with everybody in the fuckin' club'?

She's hornier on the dance floor
than in my bed. Is it normal?

No, man, but...
- Yo this girl is playin' me.

Yo Dave. Calm down, man.
You say that 'cuz you're pissed.

No, man. I know I'm pissed off
but I asked her to stop a bunch of times.

But she doesn't care. Same story, man. Each time!

I even shut up about how she dresses.
Lookin' like her tits are gonna explode outta her top.

Cool, yeah really cool.
Come on guys, have a peek at her great rack.

I miss her, man.

My shitty place is fuckin' depressing.

So OK, I wasn't always the best guy.
But I don't deserve that, man.

You should find another girl, man.

No, man. I don't want to sleep with another girl.

It's Nat I want. Just Nat. Nobody else.

I love her, man.

It hurts too fuckin' bad.

I don't know what I'd do without you.

It's gonna be OK, man.

It's cool, man. I ain't no fag!

Maybe without even knowin' it,
I ain't really lookin' for Stanley anymore.

Maybe it's just a way to take my mind off shit,
to think about something else than Nat.

Nah. I don't think so 'cuz today,

I found the little fuckin' something I needed
to make my plan to get Stanley, fuckin' solid.

Actually, the somebody.

Fix.

This guy, man...

A legend in RDP, you know.

Fix.

A black raised by whites but who speaks
with a Creole accent stronger than the whole of Haiti.

Fix, the only guy I know wearing jerseys
with his name on it. Fix the glassy eyes.

Fix the coolness.
Fix the gangsta.

Fix the nutcase who could blow up a block
just to have fun.

Fix the pusher.
Fix who can fix any problem for cash.

"I'll fix this or I'll die",
it's written on his basketball jersey.

Fix who can do anything, who can find anything.
As long as you got the cash.

First time I saw him, he was in the same bus
as me with his crew. Clearly partying.

The guy was fuckin' high, man.
Wasted.

Then for no reason, just to have something to do,
for kicks,

they started messing with an old lady,
calling her formaldehyde.

They were dancing for her. I don't know.
Messing around.

Then a guy stood up and asked them to calm down,
to let her go.

They surrounded the guy.
Him, man, he couldn't do shit.

If he tried to move, he'd be kicked to shit.

Anyway he didn't have much time to think it over.

They tried to have them kissing each other.

It became a fuckin' zoo, man.
Guys were standing up, shouting.

Guys were banging in the windows.

After that they didn't even try to run.
The worst part is they were just strollin'

down the street towards the police station
3 blocks over.

Then I don't know why,
I must have thought that if I waited there...

til the cops came, people might have said
I was pan of the crew. Like just to say they got one.

So without even noticing,
I was walking with Fix and his crew.

I spent the evening with 'em, drinking forties
and smoking spliffs in the park.

They spent the whole night reenacting the scene
with the old lady, imitating the guy's face.

They didn't get their kicks outta breakin' stuff,
it was all about seeing fear in your eyes.

To be above you for just a couple of seconds,
then to have a good story to tell.

I'm pretty sure to find him
at the same spot, in the same park.

And if I'm lucky, he's gonna help me get Stanley.
For a little cash.

Although my revenge... bares no price.

I cross the park slowly.

Here the RDP's bad boys own the night.
During the day you know... how the hell should I know?

I guess it's for the tree huggers too broke
to take a trip up North.

I'm scared.
It's as dark as the inside of an ass up in here.

I come up to the forest.

Smells like fire.
Must be them.

I ask myself if this is the right move.
Weird shit happened here.

Spot for rapes.

Let's just say I wouldn't be surprised
to be walking along one day

and to find a body laying in a puddle.

I'm still hesitating.

Ah fuck it, nothing to lose.

Ah fuck, man.
My hoodie is gonna be full of lil' thorny things.

I start to hear some people.
Having a good time.

Yo, quiet!

Fuck they heard me, man.

I would have preferred... It would have been easier,
I don't know but anyway...

Now I look like a guy that was spying on them
and got caught with his pants down,

I would have chosen to walk up like it was nothing,
more like: what's up!

Is Fix around?

But no fuck!
Would have been too easy.

So this is where I have to make my pitch,
in the dark, surrounded by trees and thorns.

If I don't talk, they're gonna come lookin'
for whatever made that noise

and then they won't ask too many question
when they find me.

I'm hereto see Fix.

Fix, we met once already.
I'm Dave, not sure it you remember me.

I just need some information.
No no...

Actually, what I really need is your help.
I'd pay!

Forget it. I'm gonna go.

Yo! Follow the light!

What do I do?

Fuck what do I do now?

Come on you, pussy, I didn't take an hour's bus ride
just to go home once I got here.

Fuck it. I'm going in.

Not even a minute later...

I find myself around a campfire
in front of a crew that looks real fuckin' wasted.

I mean totally ripped on I don't know what.

They all have the eyes of guys who want to brawl.

A little voice tells me that
I should turn around and run while I still can.

But, as my mother always said,
I don't really listen to those kinds of feelings.

So I don't move, standing there, facing them like...
I don't know what, but standing there.

They have those eyes...

Like those paintings that you think
the eyes are following you.

Like totally empty,
but still fucking here.

Is Fix here?
- You said you know Fix.

Find him!

As if I came all this way to play hide and seek.

It's dark here. I can't see shit.

Find him!

OK, let's play hide and seek.

I start walking through the gang.

Feel like shitting myself.

But actually... Fix found me first.

I wake up.

This old tree hugger,
almost in a state of shock

talking to the police,
taking the opportunity to complain.

It's not right to leave broken bottles lying
around in such a nice wood.

Yes, Madam. We understand.
- They should install cameras.

For overnight surveillance!
- The city has no budget for that, Madam.

Old hag!

How about I shove a camera up your ass.

My whole body hurts.
I cry a bit but not too much.

Then, man.

I realize they took everything.

My cell, my pager, my wallet, my knife.

Fuckin' bastards.

Fuck!

Are you OK?
- Do I look OK?

What's your name? Hey!
- David.

Where do you live?
- Anjou.

What are you doing here?

David, we're hereto help you. OK?

Don't you think it's a bit odd
to be walking around at night, in these woods?

OK, maybe.

Who did that to you?
People you know?

What happened?

Had you ingested large amounts of alcohol?

Then can you tell me why you smell like that?

Hey whoa whoa whoa.
Take it easy, please.

Regarding your deposition...

You're sure?

OK, stay here.

It's gonna be OK?

Alright. You don't really need to go.

But to be safe, the ambulance is going
to take you to the hospital.

OK, but you have to sign a release.

Do you want us to call somebody
to come and pick you up?

You can walk on your own?
Well hop in the back seat then.

Hey! Detectives will be calling you in a week or two,
in case you suddenly feel the need to talk.

Maybe you'll remember more by then.

No.

No I don't think I'll be able to remember anything.

They jumped me from behind
and I blacked out real quick.

That's not true.

Every kick, every punch.

Every beer bottle emptied on me or broke on me,
I remember like the time I lost my cherry.

Laughter, raging, hateful,
even joyous screams, I think.

Fuckin' hard to break a beer bottle on your head.
"Don't try this at home, asshole!"

One of them said that when the bottle finally broke.

It must have lasted at least 5 minutes,
when they stopped beating me...

They just kept on drinking and smoking
as if nothing had happened.

Too chill, guys.

One of them didn't stop throwing stones at me.

It was weird, man.
I don't know. I don't know, it was...

As if I was in the sky
and I could see myself laying there,

around the fire, surrounded by these guys.

Once their outdoor party was over...

3 or 4 of them came to wish me goodnight
by punching me in the back.

Then...

Only then, I passed out.

They must have robbed me then.

The next day,
the very next day...

Dollar store near my place, a can of lighter fluid
and a big barbecue lighter.

Right after that,
straight to the same bus ride.

The sky darkening to black,
the hood of my sweater covering my eyes.

Can't find the way to sit right,
pain fuckin' everywhere.

Another hour in pain,
another hour to remind myself why I'm doing this.

Christ. Fuckin' woods. They can shove it in their ass,
their fuckin' bunker.

An hour later, I get up, pull the cord.

Ants in my pants.

Lots of people getting off at the same stop as me.

I wait a bit.

Can in one hand, lighter in the other.

Check the fuckin' childguard,
turn the flame up.

OK, Dave. It's easy.
Run and spray out the can with my left hand.

When it's empty,
I'm out.

Hey Fix, time to learn.

Learn that you can't always be
the top dog and do whatever you want.

That's the voice in my head.

Oh! Fuck, man!

Jesus!

While the fire spreads I wait for the bus by the park.
Not very smart but you know.

Especially that my face looks completely fucked
and that I'm out of breath like a fat hog.

Doesn't take long for the fire department to show up.

Oh fuck, man. Shit!

I didn't notice the houses so close to the woods.

I hope they're going to spray them
so they won't catch fire.

Bus comes not long after that.

Everyone stares at my face, all swollen and banged up.

But the attention quickly turns to the woods.

The fuckin' driver decides it's time
for his break so he can take a peek.

Nosy fucker!

I'm getting fuckin' worried. My hands are soakin'
and my face looks guilty, no doubt.

I feel I got a neon sign on my back
saying I did something wrong.

I turn my fugitive face to the ground, raising
my eyes only to watch what's happening around me.

Yes, man! About time, Christ!

My grandmother told me that once,
when she was little, the barn caught fire.

A neighbor showed up with a picture
of Sister Immaculate or something. Not sure.

Rubbed it on the barn
and it stopped burning in a second.

Oh fuck.
Fuck! Fuck there's a...

Fuck, man! A cop car I hadn't seen, do some kinda code.

Blinks the headlights so the bus stops.
I don't know, man.

Doors open.
I'm fucking losing it.

A black guy gets on the bus all out of breath
and goes to the back to sit down.

Yo man, if I look like a fugitive,
this guy looks even guiltier.

And he's black on top of it!
That calms me down.

I'm out of dodge, easy sailing.
Pressure just drops right then.

I'm totally wasted, dead tired.

Last stop!

Hey!

OK. Relax!

At the bus terminal, the driver wakes me up.

- Get out!
- Yes.

It's weird though, 'cuz I'm like all energy.

Too king, man.
Didn't get caught.

Walking to the subway,
I think about the fire trucks I saw.

Hope they were goin', just in case.

That there was no bad shit, no injuries.
Or dead people.

I couldn't live with that, man.

I'd go straight to the cops.

Get off the escalator,
the black guy that was on the bus.

That's a punk from Fix's crew.

The little fucker who was throwing rocks
while they were beatin' the shit out of me!

Kinda hard not to recognize me
with the way they tore my face up.

He starts running.
Without even thinkin', I do the same.

I'm running but I don't know what I'm gonna do.
I don't even know if I'm gonna catch him.

Christ!

The subway's fuckin' packed.

And me.
And the black guy running like a madman.

And the track and the hot wires.
And me walking towards him.

And now the nigga got his back to the far wall
asking himself if he should bounce through the tunnel.

I'm closin' in on him like a bad ass, motha fucka.

He is too much of a pussy to jump on to the tracks.

When the nigga ran in the stairs,
people moved out of the way.

So when I come through,
I feel like a general walking through the honour guard

to punish a soldier in front of everybody.

I still remember the shape of the sole of his shoes.

The closer I get, the more I can tell
he's getting scared. This pussy's shaking all over.

A crown of sweatdrops on his forehead.
So I move in slow like a fuckin' cement truck.

Subway chimes.
People backing up as far as they can go.

The nigga's about to lose his mind.

The train stops.
Vengeance makes my heart pump.

Doors open.

Adrenaline pumping through my veins.

Ha Christ.

Fuck!

Then, man.

Don't know if I'm mad at myself for lettin' him bounce.

Or proud of myself for scarin' the shit out of him,

to have seen how weak he was,
how all alone he was nothin'.

No, man. No, man, he's gonna think I fuckin' choked.
That I shit my fuckin' pants, man.

That's what he's gonna think.
I can't.

I can't just leave it like this, man.
Come on you fuckin' train, hurry up!

People on the ramp didn't even get on the train,
they're so confused at what just went down.

Maybe even a little disappointed.

I got one out of two chances
the nigga's comin'' my way.

And if he does, I'm gonna find out what car he's in
and I'm gonna kick his fuckin' ass.

So I just bide my time, and I wait.

When I was 13, I got jumped here, same station.

I was in private school back then.

Those fuckers kept givin' me the boot.
But I was no freak, you know like.

Never sold weed or got into fights.
I couldn't even hurt a fuckin' fly back then.

"Unless the fly stings you."

Family philosophy, man!
Well my Dad's actually, before he checked out.

Don't attack anyone. But just remember,
there's no limit to retaliation, boy.

At 13, I looked like nothing, man.

And my mom, to save money,
made me wear last year's private school uniform.

Was fuckin' rippin' off my back.
I looked like a big doofus.

I always wore this old beret that stank of moth balls
I'd bought in some church basement.

With a pin on the side that said "Stop racism".

I was so fuckin' naive, man.

No 'cuz I thought that racism had to be stopped.
It's fuckin' dumb. Real fuckin' dumb.

But back then, I thought if ever I got in trouble
with races, it could help.

You know, play in my favor.

So with my beret, my "Stop racism" pin,
my brand new discman,

and my silver bomber jacket,
formally known as "hot potato".

I'm waiting for the train.

Wow.

Stop racism!

Hey aver� you mo�?
You' we com, man'.!

ls your mother a big fat bwown mama?

No, he's a wred head!

Big bwown mamas don't have wred headed childwen.
Do they?

No, no.

And they definitely don't have the cash
to send 'em to private school.

Come on, take the headphones off,
put them in your pocket.

Take the bomber off and give it to us.

Hurry up! Don't make us push you onto the tracks.
Fuckin' wannabe nigger!

You do as told, but you still remember
that exactly 2 African tribes have red hair.

You learned it in prepschool.

They took off runnin'.

Wack bastards.

It was funny to see how every adult
was looking everywhere except at me.

At 13.

Where is your coat?

And your discman?

My gum!

We can't trust you, David.

Not sure how you manage,
but you're always looking for trouble and you find it!

We won't buy you new stuff anymore
if you're not able to take care of it.

She couldn't understand you could get jacked
like that out of the blue.

Just because you're the one standing there.

We went to the cops.
They threw mugshots at me.

Lots of mugshots.
What do you think, man?

Didn't help a fuckin' thing.
Big joke with their pictures.

So after that, you just cross fingers
it won't happen again.

But obviously, you didn't cross 'em hard enough.

Subway, buses, streets!
Come on y'all, come on.

Hop onto my private tour of fuckin' Montreal.

10 years of my life in 17 stops. 17 stories of guys
getting pushed, punched, jacked, you name it.

Don't get it wrong.
I ain't one of the bad guys.

After that, you just change, man, no doubt.
You're scared.

It's not normal to be always scared.
Fuck no, man!

It's not normal.

But one morning, in the mirror
hung on the back of my bedroom door, I saw this.

A man's build.
It jumped out at me! A man's build.

But a kid's attitude.
A little pussy punk bitch?

Well enough.

These motherfuckers think they can do
what they want 'cuz people just shut up?

Enough of this shit.
I won't be part of it.

Ten guys jump me? Enough of this shit.
I'll pull out my fuckin' pocket-blade,

and cut at least one of those bitches,
he'll remember me for a while.

Someone comes up and tries to hit me,
a bomb man, a bomb.

Jab, slide, slide, counter-punch.
Bang right in his teeth!

If no one gets revenge for me,
I'll take care of it myself.

Yeah I'm still scared,
but am I gonna just walk with my head down?

No fucking way!
I'm worth more than that.

Anytime shit goes down, I just wanna cry, man.
Scream like a madman.

Gets me like a fuckin' cramp.
I'm fuckin' scared.

So scared that it's gonna turn into rage,
when I get mad, man.

I just fuckin' lose it, man!

The subway is coming. Go.

He's gonna fuckin' regret it
if he is still on the train.

Fat container full of faces
flying by at high speed then slowing down.

It stops.
Doors in front of me.

Yep. I've always been the best,
setting my shit exactly where the doors open.

I crack my neck...
Doesn't crack, but I'm ready anyway.

Left is clear!

Fuck!

Are you OK?

She talkin' to me?

Sorry, I don't mean to bother you,
but you really don't look well.

Yeah, yeah, it's fine.
It's fine.

What the fuck does she want?
One of those fuckin' do-gooders out to save the world?

I bounce.
Go up the stairs.

The metro takes off
in the tunnel, sucking all the air.

Air smelling like metal and dust.
Cold air smacks me like a ton of bricks, feels good.

Feel like sittin' down on the cement bench
outside the station.

No, man.

No, man.
Feel like lying down on the pavement.

On old black chewing gums, cigarette butts.

And look up at the sky.

My mind is blank. Trying not to cry.

Oh man, getting all dizzy.

Are you sure you're alright?

It's the same girl!
Who is this?

Fuckin' therapist hired by the transport service?

David? That's your name?

How does she know my name?

How come you know my name?

Isabelle.
We met at parties.

Isabelle, friend of Marc, and Nat.

Oh! Yeah.
How are you doing?

I think I should be the one asking you.

Don't think I followed you. This is my stop.

Hey, you're really beaten up.
What happened to you?

Wiped out on my board.

Never been on a skateboard in my life!
I don't want to get into it with her.

Too long, too complicated.
She won't understand.

She's nice, but... disconnected.

Check this, now she's gonna ask me why I'm crying.

Are you crying because of Nathalie?
Your ex?

I was close.

So you know?

That's just fuckin' great.

It makes it like official
when you hear it from someone else's mouth.

Now I'm fuckin' down for the count. Yeah.

It's fuckin' hard, but ya know.

Guess that's life.

Where are you going?

Well you know...
Just chilling a bit, walking.

I don't know why I said that.
Actually, I just feel like gettin' wasted.

Well, I was going to sleep.

But if you wanna come over
and have a beer you're welcome.

I got stiffed on a blind date tonight.

Which is like a stupid reason to drink compared to you.
But you know, it's a reason, right?

But you can only come if you stop
calling me "Man". OK?

The guy from the blind date must have been
really blind. 'Cuz Isabelle is really something!

I mean, one of the reasons I wasn't talkin' to her
was because she was too fuckin' hot.

I figured she wouldn't wanna have
nothing to do with a guy like me.

But man, right then,
my fuckin' soldier is like in full salute.

I tell myself that fuckin' her
would probably be the best way to get back at Nat.

And get over these past few days.

OK. Good idea.

"Girl."

Tears stay stuck to the bubble gums.

Outside, the sky still above, reminding me
that I'm small, but... fuck, man.

I decide not to stare up and that's it.
Sometimes, it just ain't complicated.

After you.
- Thank you.

Not sure how to say it.

It's like magic, you know.

Especially with this rain.

I really think that it can be easy sometimes.

Oh, the guy lets the buoy carry him to shore.

I fool around like that sometimes
when I'm with a chick.

We start walking to her place.
Nothing interesting being said.

Mostly like little stupid smiles and the feeling
that it's about to get better once there.

We're almost there.

Do you have roommates?
- Oh no. I hate that.

We hit the store for some beer, but she's gotta pay,
'cuz me, I didn't make a wallet appear since yesterday.

Quite a gentleman.

Sorry, man.

H's OK, David.

But stop callin' me "Man"!

And stop swearing all the time,
you sound like a teenager.

OK, it makes you charming,
not sure why.

But stop anyway.
You'll be just as charming, if not more.

Can I tell you that charming Dave
is gonna stop swearing.

It's here.

Hey...

Thank you.

That's OK, David.

Welcome to my place.

She gives me the tour of the crib.

A Louisville Slugger hits me
like a shot of loneliness in the face.

It just overpowers me, man,
it's really a girl's apartment.

The place smells good all over,
everything is nice.

The colors, the furniture, it's cozy, man.

You feel like takin' your clothes off,
sparkin' a blunt and kickin' back to some tunes, man.

Each room has its own little hand cream,
its own dried flower arrangement.

The bathroom is overflowing with products
that feel nice and smell nice.

Can you wait for me in the living room?
I'm gonna slip into something more comfortable.

Oh yeah, yeah, sure.

She's going to get comfy!

1-0 Dave.

Although she looked real fuckin' sexy
in her blind date kit. The cleavage, man!

But it wasn't for me, I get it, man.
Respect, man, respect.

OK...

Let's hit the beer.

Oh, man! An orgy of pillows, man!

I hear her coming back and I turn around
like a guy seeing his bride on his wedding night.

Fuck, the nightie!

No, no, wait.

At least!

We hit the beer and start talkin' like old friends.

It's funny, no? We've been introduced to each other
at parties, but we never really talked.

Yeah. That's right.

Well actually, every time we met,
we've been introduced to each other.

That's how much we never talked before.

But now I don't know. I don't think about that.
It's like... like if you were an old friend.

And what happened before is like somebody else's past.
It's weird to explain.

We laugh, we have fun.
Beers are hitting the fuckin' spot.

Loosening up what needs loosening.
She goes like...

Oh, wait!

The kind of "oh wait" that makes you "oh wait"
for something that ain't half-bad.

Smell this.

Smells good.

God damn this shit stinks!
Smells like a Hindu store!

I don't care, I don't give a fuck, I feel good.
I want her. So bad, man!

But something is still keeping me from her bed:
the futon I'm sitting on.

I can see it comin'.
Like it's 3:00 in the morning:

"I guess I'll go to sleep,
but you can sleep on the futon if you want."

No, no, no!
Objective. Problem. Solution.

So like a first class asshole,
I stand up, fake like I'm fallin' over.

Oh fuck! Hey, sorry. I'm sorry.
God, I'm really sorry.

If I'm sleeping here, it's in her bed.
Oh she won't know what hit her.

No, no, give me that, I'll fix it.

Want a shot'?

You bet I do!

Ask a horse if he likes oats!

Don't you think we'd be better on the floor?
On the pillows? Chill?

Yes, OK.
- Can I move the table?

Hey, sorry again for your futon.

Yeah right, as if I was sorry!
I'm the fuckin' master for that type of shit.

To missed blind dates.

You're funny, David!

Generally speaking, girls that call me David
are interested in more than just a fuck.

The second shot.

To our fairest encounter.

You're cute.

Generally speaking, when a guy is told "you're cute"
by a chick, she won't sleep with him.

"You're cute" is for dogs, cats and babies.
"You're cute", means nothing.

Now I'm completely fucked up
and I don't know what she wants.

But the alcohol is still doin' the job.

Flashes of real hardcore shit goin' through my head.

Her little ass looks so tight.

Like Japanese tight.

Every sentence, every word out of my mouth
is designed toward an eventual fuck.

Only thinking of her lips on my cock.

I'm thinking that Isabelle
could be more than just a fuck.

She's not just a chick.
She's smart and shit.

And it doesn't mean she's fat, God no.

We've got like nothing left to say
but I respect her groove.

I just don't wanna get the cold shoulder.

The discomfort of thinking like "who's gonna go first"?

I call another shot
to kill the shyness that just came back.

T o shy mess!

Bad call?

No. Why? Are you shy?

No.

OK then, to the shyness you thought I felt but I don't.

But I can understand
how you could have thought that I did.

And I think it's so cute that you're shy.

Ah, you didn't wait for me.

Oh sorry.
- Cheers anyway.

Wouldn't it be weird,
if something happened between us.

Well. Yeah. I don't know.

No but you know,
it would be like a square.

'Cuz us two, here.
Maybe.

I've slept with Marc.

Often.

Marc became, by Nathalie, one of your friends.

You're Natalie's ex-boyfriend.

And Natalie left you for Marc.

It would almost make like a perfect square!

I once heard that after a big hit, like a massive hit,
you could lose all your hair.

I think no hair will ever grow on my body again!

How to explain what I saw in my bathroom mirror?

How to say that the guy in the reflection is empty?
And who to say it to anyways?

I thought I had a real friend.

Nah, Dave, you can cry in front of me.
I really fuckin' get you, Dave, you have no idea.

You're gonna forget about her.
And you're gonna pick up another hotty in no time!

Everyone must've known,
but I wasn't even worth telling.

Myself face to face with myself,
a guy who might never find confidence again.

I can just imagine the first time it happened.

She's cryin', she's hurt.
She goes to the asshole's to cry, talk to somebody.

She goes to cry on his shoulder.

He brushes the hair off her face.
Tonight he listens.

She needs something,
but she doesn't know what exactly.

He ain't crazy, he knows what she needs.
He takes advantage, he kisses her.

That easy, man!
Come on, spread 'em!

Or else they've been sleeping together for a long time,
but I'd rather not think about that.

I'd lose my mind thinking about it
for more than two seconds.

The guy's broken, man.

You know, Dave,
trust is something you give.

If you love me, you'll trust me.

Do I give you reason to be jealous?

I guess you'll have
to make a gift of your trust.

True, Nat! I have no reason to be jealous now.
We're not together anymore!

But I have reasons to be fuckin' pissed off!
Fuckin' slutty bitch!

In the end, I don't sleep with Isabelle.
I fuck her.

MC Dave. MC Unleashed.
Like a fuckin' animal!

Like when couples have fights, after you wanna fuck,
to fuck so bad just get past it.

To get back at Nat.
I can't stop thinking that if she finds out,

it's really gonna piss her off, fuckin' biatch.

Hoping she'll cry out all the tears
of her shitty little body.

I have to concentrate or I'm gonna go limp.

Her ass is tight as I thought.
She's fuckin' into it.

MC Horny.

I can't stop thinking that Marc...
Marc might be all up in Natalie right now.

She might even be doin' shit with him
that she never did with me.

Maybe she's saying
he's the best fuck of her life, fuck!

I do all the hard shit that turns me on.

Of course she's been banging him.

MC Kinky.

Is it like better with him?!
Sweat all over, my legs are shaking. Haaa!

The minute I come, I get up and get dressed.

She asks me what I'm doing.
I'm leaving.

Not because of you. I...

I got stuff to settle with Marc.

Sorry.

Sorry.

I wanted to talk to her.
Talk to Nat, but...

I'm too scared to call her place
and be told she's at Marc's.

Or to call her on her cell and have Marc answer.

Jesus Christ! She's getting off with another guy!
She's gonna fuck everyone of my friends to piss me off!

I have to hear it from him.
Or else I'm gonna fuckin' explode!

I call him.

Marc, it's Morin.

Call me back, I think you got something to say to me.

But I know he won't call back.
He's too much of a pussy, not a man yet.

Just the goatee to make believe.

I'm so going to hit his ass, man.

Beat him. Hit him.

Like a fuckin' dog.

Until he gets it through his fuckin' head
he can't do that, he had no right!

Then, like a flash of light, out of nowhere,
a freaky idea pops into my head and scares me.

Three fuckin' hours later,
I call Marc for the fourth time.

Marc, forget it.

But if I were you, man,
I would steer clear of the guy who cried in your arms,

because of the girl you were fucking,
before and after we were done.

The guy who wept on your shoulder,
same place she'd put her face right after.

I'm telling you, man.

Don't call me back.

Hide, man. Hide while you still can,
'cuz I'm gone, man!

Gone. Yeah. But where?

Never been there before.

Feel like calling Nathalie,
telling her I love her even more.

Or that I wanna kill her.
Anything. Just talk to her, fuck!

The guy in front of me is weak, vulnerable.

The guy in front of the mirror is keeping it together,
even if he's afraid of what he might do.

Afraid of goin' off the deep end.

David starts crying while Dave seeks revenge.

And this crazy fuckin' idea pops in my head.

I'm trying to throw it as far as I can,
but it sticks.

My voice in my head.

Just fuckin' do it, Dave!

I grab my box with my phone numbers.

Old numbers on crunched up and folded pieces of paper.

Fuck, man. Shakin' like an old man.

I find the number.

Pick up.

Hello? Bob?

It's Dave.
David Morin, the guy that...

Yeah.

Yeah. That's me.

Chillin'. You?

Yeah, well...
Sorry to cut you off Bob, but...

You know, the guy you told me about
when you got into some shit...

Yeah.
Yep. Him.

Well, you think he would sell me one?

Bob told me this guy was no small time bad boy.

That he was crested, a real biker.

Not to fuck around, 'cuz this guy would make me regret
I was born in like two seconds.

He told me the house was in a new development in Laval,

between a forest and a highway.

It's like fuckin' rich, man.

The place is supposed to be
the biggest house on the block.

I get to the house at the end of the street.

Never seen a house that big.

OK...

No more being fucked with.

Hi, it's me, Dave.

Followed?

No.

Humongous living room.

My left eye won't stop twitching.

What? Yeah I got the money.
Yeah-yeah cash.

OK, man, it's OK, man.
I won't move.

There's a table in the lobby with a wooden case on it.

I gotta close my hands 'cuz I'm shakin' too much.

What kind'?

No, I don't really know this stuff.

Wiped out on my skateboard.

This guy's eyes are red.
He must be on blow or speed, I'm freakin' out a bit.

No, no, I don't need more bullets.
It's OK.

Yeah... Sorry. It's just that...

That's heavy!

Is this the safety?
That'? OK.

Do you have to press hard...'?

Oh sorry, man, fuck.

Alright...

It was only the doorbell.

But I ain't used to havin' a gun in my hand
and I'm way too fuckin' nervous.

My finger's gonna tighten around the trigger.

There's gonna be a nice hole in the beige couch
that looks really expensive.

Last thing I need, but it's going to happen anyway.

Ah fuck!

Here. I won't touch it again!
Won't touch it. Sorry.

Scared me. It's fuckin' sensitive.

Fuckin' idiot...

He goes to the door.

A chick walks in. His girlfriend maybe.
A kiss on the lips, a hand on her tit.

His girlfriend.
Looks just as fucked.

What's goin' on?

Well, big boy here came to buy.

I think he's nervous.

This fuckin' idiot shot the couch when you rang.

She ain't impressed one bit and laughs.
Biatch!

Goes to the little wooden case.
He bends down, checks out the leather.

Hey man, sorry but...
I don't think this was such a good idea.

Could we just forget it, about the gun?

That's how I learned that once you order a gun,
you don't change your mind.

500 more.
- 500!?!

OK, OK. It's OK.
500.

Discouragement. Angst.
Too tired.

The biatch laughing in the corner. Whore.
She does a line.

750 for a gun and a piece of leather!
Shit, this makes no sense.

I'm so fuckin' ashamed!
Stupid ass! Stupid ass!

Too many things at the same time.
The blow goin' up the bill.

The guy snorting. Thinking of the radios,
the bar, Nathalie, Fix, Marc, Stanley.

The park, Isabelle, Nathalie, getting drunk.
Then it starts over and gets all fuckin' mixed up!

Tears come to my eyes.

Stop it, fag.

Maybe you could let him go
if he just pays for the couch'?

Me starting to cry.

No, sorry.

Shut the fuck up.

Tempted to stick the gun in my mouth,
and pull the trigger. Fuckin' get it over with.

Take this please. There's 450 bucks.
You can count but I swear, there's 450 bucks.

Don't ask for more I got nothing else,
not at home, not in the bank, nowhere.

I don't even have a job!
Forget about me. She'll forget about me.

I won't talk to anybody, I swear.

You'll get your couch fixed and
everything's gonna be alright.

'Cuz I really ain't doin' so good, man.
I'm freaking out.

Yeah, I get it: if I come back, you cap my ass.
It's OK, man. I'll never come back.

Oh fuck!

Fuck, man!

No cash for the bus.

In a new development lost in Laval,

a stupid ass doesn't have fuckin' $3.50
to take the fuckin' bus to fuckin' go home.

A stupid ass, so stupid that...
I walk real slow and calling myself every name I know.

Fuck, man. If I walk to Montreal,
it'll take three fuckin' days.

A trash can in front of me.

Garbage day... Didn't notice.

And this trash can in front of me.
The only one with a box full of stuff next to it.

In the box: old clothes, these fuckin' rich guys
are too snobby to give to the poor.

In the collar of an old shin.

A metal hanger.

Why not?

Night crashes down on Laval.
My shoes hit the ground faster.

Lots of houses, no lights.
No lights, nobody. Easy even.

Another huge crib.
No lights. No TV reflections on the walls.

Man, not even a trash can. A desert.
1+1=2, man. Nobody home.

And my taxi for Montreal in the driveway, man.

A big fuckin' toy, fully loaded.

I feel high, too excited
at the thought of the ride home.

If I manage to unlock this goddamn truck,
music full volume.

This baby must have mean speakers, man.

Fuck! Fuck. Everything starts to spin.

Faster than I can think,
can't find a way to concentrate.

My heart wants to jump out of my chest.
I'm freakin' out. Scared of getting caught.

I've just passed a marker.

Not really what I want.
It's more like a loan. Just a loan, like a taxi.

Alright, maybe take a ride with some hotty
but that's it.

Shit, Dave! Stop thinking it's not gonna work.
Stop thinkin' that a hanger ain't worth shit.

Even if it's true, fight fuck, fight.

Try to think about how it's rigged inside that door!

Ah man, fuck I'm dumb!

Maybe if I bend it, if I twist it...

Am I bothering you?
- Ah...

Quick, quick, quick.
Think, think, think...

Am I bothering you!?!

Am n

Stop screaming, man. Stop.
Shut up!

He won't stop screaming.
Shut the fuck up!

Shut up! Shut up!
Shut the fuck up!

In a cupboard in the kitchen: a key rack.

Stickers, shed keys, Sylvie's gym locker keys...

Gym locker key. Luc.

House key, cabin key, truck key.

Truck key.

And a bigger sticker.

"If you take a key, put it back in its place."

From Laval to Montreal,
I hit every red light.

Red light festival.

I can't stop hallucinating police lights after me.

As if everything was against me.

As if somebody was trying to tell me:
Wake-up, Dave.

You fucked up. You lost it.

That's how it's called, losin'.
Big time.

When you spit up, it hits you back in the face.

Good luck, boy!

I wish I could stop the night from becoming day,
to stay dark.

I want... I want to see Nat.
To hold her as hard as I can.

To squeeze her until I melt into her.

I wish I was in my mother's arms.

Telling me she loves me, that she knows
I ain't really like that, that she's gonna help me.

Even hide me if she has to.
Cradle me.

On a street corner, a phone booth.
I turn, hit the brakes and run to it.

Mom?

Mom? You're OK?

Not really, no. Listen...

It's... 11:30 pm.
Do you think I could come home?

Yes. Yes now.

I know it's late but...

It's important.

Why'?

Something heavy happened to me, mom.
Heavy. Something heavy, heavy means bad.

Can I come?

I can't explain it over the phone!
Ha, mom!

No, no, no! No, I'm not big enough.
I'm coming, OK?

No, no, mom.
I'm telling you I can't explain on the phone.

No. Don't hang up. Don't hang up.
Mom, I'm coming, OK?

Mommy?

No idea how I got here.

My crib smells like mold, chugged two beers,
smoked the rest of my weed,

did some push-ups,
chugged a bottom of peach schnapps.

Called 'em as soon I got home,
still had their number on my caller display.

They came right away,
a dollar sign stuck to their faces.

They got fuckin' hyped when they saw the truck.

I could see they were just lookin'
for a way to screw me on some shit.

Check this.
We take this truck and bring it to our guy.

You can't come 'cuz the guy's crazy.
If he likes the shit, he gives the cash.

We give you your cut.

I know exactly what you mean.

But guys, I forgot to tell you:

there's a bonus that comes with the truck.

If you spit up, it comes back down.

I grab my phone.

Three digits.

9-1-1.

Yes. Yes, I...

I just saw four black guys stealing a silver truck...
They were going toward Armand-Bombardier in Anjou.

No, no, don't transfer me...
Listen to me.

Licence plate 7321 LTD.

7321 LTD!

I know that the minute they get caught,
they're gonna rat me out. Obvious. I'm OK with it.

Not expecting anything else.

I don't feel anything anymore.

Tired of asking myself too many questions.

What I did, I did and I'll pay for it.
Matter of time.

Though I shouldn't be the only one to pay.

I don't know much but that I do know.

Police open the door.

I did what I did.

But that's not what I wanted.

I wasn't really there.

Like half there. Maybe less.
Like blinded by the sun.

The white spot veiling my eyes.

Thick blinkers letting only a drop of sky in
once in a while

because I tried to forget the how of the why.

Because I tried to fill the emptiness inside.

Because of fear. Empty fear.
Right there.

But... there won't be any excuses
about how I was only half there.

No. Fuck all no excuses. I did it.
Me. My hands and nobody else's.

All the reasons in the world to pay.

But right now...

Right now I need something I can control.

Something beautiful.
That would be nice. Just mine.

Even if it's just for seconds, but just mine.

A lifeline in my head that no one could fuck with.

Something to hang onto.

Has to be. I need it.

Need for a change. Need to get centered, man.

And in the end I'm just a fuckin' pussy.

I ain't scared anymore.
Scared of being scared.

Because of that, because of that,
you just tell yourself

that you're better off puttin' a bullet
in that shitty head of yours.

Because I don't have the balls to deal
with this nonstop. Because I can't accept that.

I ain't doing too good.

I can't breathe. I'm scared...
of this empty space inside,

of my ribs crushing me inside,
of the void around me.

King fucked up.

I'm not well.

I feel like a kid out of the tub,
frozen, waiting for his mom with a towel.

But she's not coming.
She'll never come with the fuckin' towel.

Look at me, man.

Look at me.

Too compliant, completely in control.

Not chokin' this time, I'm doin' this slick.

Could've tried to bounce, to hide, but no.

No. I ain't backing down.
Takin' it like a man.

One day I'll be able to reset the meter.

I know I can do it.
Because I'm still here.

Empty-

Broken.

But I stay here. Waiting.

Already taking responsibility.

You wouldn't have thought that of me!

Adm ii it.

Nobody would have thought that of me.

Nobody to see this.

Nobody.

Fuck it, man.