The only truth is love beyond reason.
We write about 20, 25 texts a day.
I'd go, c'mon, Iet's hitchhike to Miami Beach.
He'd answer now!
In 1 sec he's there.
But of course
I fall for that fucking arrogant prick Jean-Marc
who takes forever to answer my emails.
I'm such a dumbass.
Sometimes
I'm at my computer...
and I panic.
I get all worked up.
I go,
if somebody died every time I hit Refresh,
there'd be nobody Ieft alive, fuck.
When you go into a bar, go for groceries,
walk down the street, eat out...
Whose ass do you check out?
When you're on the prowl, is it tits or cocks?
Tits, cocks? Cocks, tits?
It was the cat.
Marilyn. The cat was gone.
I knew right away because I didn't hear the tingaling.
He'd put this collar on her...
You know, for midgets... for Santa's elves. A tiny bell.
He put a bell on, thought it was cute.
You always heard it.
But I came home, she wasn't there.
I went, Marilyn?
No bell.
And the vase...
in terracotta, that was filled with
pennies and shit, on the buffet.
Gone.
So I turn around and next to the door,
just my boots.
No running shoes. No guy stuff at all.
So naturally I tear through the place at Iike 250 mph.
He'd taken everything.
AII... all... all his shit.
On the kitchen table there was a sheet of blue notepaper
with, written in German - cause he was German...
Must still be.
"I don't want to waste my Iife Ioving you badly."
You can't be 50-50.
Straight is straight, gay is gay.
And don't bring up your "mood" crap.
The humidex doesn't affect your Iibido.
Or the moon in Aquarius.
Gimme a fucking break!
I know everything.
Everything.
I know where he works,
the restaurants he eats in.
I walked by his building.
Ran into the janitor.
So I asked him, dunno the fuck why,
if he was home.
Janitor starts talking about him.
I Iisten.
I start talking about him, the Iittle I knew.
As if I knew him since kindergarten.
One point I realize I'm fucked.
So I tell him to say Cindy Rosenberg says hello.
Not to Iook Iike a stalker.
If he had any idea...
I am so well informed.
His dad had a stroke in 2002.
His mom owns a multicolored wooden flowers stand
at Jocelyne's Treasures...
If he knew,
he'd probably enter the witness protection program
for Mafia stools.
GIenn CIose in Fatal Attraction.
That's me.
Who is that self-satisfied Adonis?
The blond?
Nicolas.
Country Iad. Friend of Sophie's.
Just moved into town.
HEARTBEATS
- Hello. - Marie?
Guess who we're meeting Saturday?
Seismography.
You bore cables and sensors into the ground.
You blow it all up and you can make maps.
Based on the vibrations
you can see what's underground.
Oil companies pay $200 mill for 'em.
It's crazy.
We work 92-hour weeks and with overtime
you take home $1 300 a week, plus a fat tax refund,
cause I'm studying Iiterature at McGill.
I only do it for the money
and to forget all the shit.
At night I read to exercise my brain.
Koltes keeps you in shape.
- Well? - Well, what?
What do you think of Nicolas?
He's nice.
Yeah, he's nice.
He's intelligent.
Personally he's not my type.
Me neither.
Thursday night we enter a rowdy bar with flashy lights
and order ales and lemonade?
- Hello? - Hi, how are you?
I'm good, you?
Good.
Guess what?
I dunno.
But Nico sent me a card.
You got one too?
Yeah, I got it this morning.
So, see you Thursday, then?
It'll be fun.
Eating your cherry, Terry?
Cherries are too sweet.
Fudge is 1 7 times sweeter than cherries.
Ever play hide-and-seek?
Yeah.
Wanna play?
Like, on the mountain, maybe?
Sure, but,
do you need to change?
Are you gonna wear that dress, or...?
Cause you...
Sporty.
One bottle of wine.
Two bottles of wine. Three bottles of wine...
Bunny!
You must've sucked at this game as a kid.
There was...
I saw a white rabbit.
A pet rabbit that probably escaped.
Marie!
His dad knows a stage designer. Nick asked me to his play.
Cool.
OK.
You have a big bed, right?
Yeah, I have a big bed.
You can sleep here. We'II just...
We'II just squeeze in.
Thanks, man.
Shotgun the side.
I hate the middle too!
No sweat, I Iike the middle.
Good.
SIeeping tight, Marie?
Not eating, Marie?
I'm not hungry.
An article on the play I invited you to.
Francis, want me to try to get you a ticket?
- It's on Thursday? - Yeah.
No... I'm busy Thursday.
Too bad.
The play's surrealistic, but it's based on an Audrey Hepburn movie.
The Iove of my Iife.
Thanks. With one sugar.
Here you go. That's $2.25 please.
Thanks. Keep the change.
Bye.
Hey!
- Hey, how's it going? - Fine, you?
Yeah. What are you doing here?
- I Iive on Jeanne-Mance. - Really?
What's up?
I was grabbing a coffee with a friend. She just Ieft.
Funny, cause I just...
Dammit! I'II just... Fuck, my coffee!
Wait, Iemme show you. Shit, I spilled it all over.
Did I get you? Here you go...
Lucky! Where'd you find it?
It's for you.
I bought it for you.
Really, Frank...
You're so sweet!
- My pleasure. - Thank you!
You said you Iiked her so I thought...
I gotta run. I'm cooking for a girlfriend.
No worries.
A girlfriend?
Pesto with pine nuts.
There you go.
But thanks a Iot. I can't wait to...
to put it up.
I'm off.
- I'II call you. - OK.
- See you! - Bye.
Don't forget your bags!
Your pesto won't... without the bags.
- Bye! - Call me!
- Yeah! - OK!
Was it bad?
No, no.
It was very...
engrossing.
You have amazing eyes.
Hazel?
As banal an iris as they come.
A high IQ is a vital counterpoint to brown eyes.
Do you ever think of movie stars when you fuck?
No, I don't think of anything.
Do you picture celebrities during coitus?
Yeah.
But I don't need to with you.
Are you in Iove right now?
Pains, Migraines and Sonatas
Pretty so-so, huh?
The dialogue was a mess.
So pompous.
I heard the author on the radio.
She called it the work she Ieast understood.
These pseudo borderlines...
with their pain fetish as an escape from existential ennui...
Fuck off!
They just need to get Iaid.
The authors have struck again.
I was irrevocably scarred by Wild Berries and Sodomy.
The characters were so Manichean.
Manichean?
Manichean.
You know, good versus evil.
AII black or all white.
Yeah, I know what it means.
I just found it charming you'd use the word Manichean.
Seems out of character?
No, not at all. On the contrary.
There's a Iittle
Vietnamese place near where I Iive.
It might be
pleasant.
Yeah, totally.
Marie, it's Frankie!
Frankie!
- What's up? - We just saw the play.
Shit, I forgot! It was tonight.
Antony, this is Nico. Nico, Antony...
Nicolas, this is Jody.
And CIara, Nicolas.
Hi.
Didn't hurt too much when you fell from heaven?
How was the play?
Disappointing.
That's all? What a shame.
- It wasn't good? - It was awful.
But those actors are good.
Well, they were awful.
Anyway, it's funny you came here to eat.
It's measurable.
The Kinsey scale has 7 categories, 7 degrees.
0) Exclusively heterosexual.
1 ) Predominantly heterosexual, incidentally homosexual.
2) Predominantly heterosexual, more than incidentally homosexual,
- Iike Jean. - Go fuck yourself!
3) Bisexual with no preference.
4) Predominantly homosexual, incidentally heterosexual.
5) Predominantly homosexual, more than incidentally heterosexual.
And 6) Exclusively homosexual.
Where do you fall on the scale?
The Golden Coconut CIub.
No, Golden Coconut Depot.
Yeah. We shared a Iittle Californian wine.
And we split a
fried banana.
Then...
we went dutch, because...
well,
I wanted it to be clear.
Then I gave her a Iift to the metro.
It must've been, 11 :15?
And I went for a beer with friends.
Oh, and my ex was there.
The day he moved in,
it was over. It was over!
No, I mean, it wasn't over, over.
I mean, we still Iived together and had sex and all, but...
But those are details, meaningless.
It was over.
Of course at first
we didn't want to admit it
cause we felt bad, you know.
The move, all the cargo...
AII that... all that stuff.
That's a shitload of money out the window.
That said, mein Herr is making Euros,
so he can go fuck himself.
It's Iike we were...
"We..." I mean, I'II speak for myself.
Me...
For me...
I was infatuated with the kind of Iove we had.
He Iived in Berlin,
me, on Dorion St, so...
I guess I was in Iove with,
you know, taking the plane and
I dunno, Ianding, the cafes,
the cigarettes and...
wind from elsewhere,
his accent.
It doesn't exist.
It's the concept you Iove.
You Iove the concept more than him.
It's the distance you Iove.
But when there's no more distance...
When...
when there's no more ocean to cross
and all there's Ieft to cross is a hallway...
Anyway,
it's over now.
The Ietter I got two days after
our evening out.
"My dear Julien,
I can't stop thinking about our enchanting tete-a-tete.
Your humor and gallantry seduced me.
Yesterday I went to the Northland Mall with the girls.
I think I found your perfume.
Is it by chance Insurrection
from Colin Arpel, by chance?"
No, it's not.
"My top moment of our night?
Definitely when you kissed me on the cheek at the metro station,
almost grazing my cheek.
I shut my eyes
and felt transported to the Champs-EIysees."
C H A N S
E L I S E S.
He calls me Miss.
Uses "vous" with me.
Who are we, fucking de Musset and Georges Sand?
Pussy-footing. I hate pussy-footing.
Now he's ruining all my favorite places because
when he's not there,
having a beer with friends...
When he's not there,
I'm bored.
It's no fun.
Yet, the weather's nice, birds are singing, the wine's good...
I mean: Shut up, bitch!
But it's no fun.
When he's there, watch out!
Like I popped 5 tabs of speed. I say hi to everyone.
I act Iike I'm straight off the farm.
St Donat. Howdy!
Worst, I hardly talk to him.
But I know he sees me.
You see people even if you don't Iook.
Like, if you're there.
And I'm Iooking here.
I see you.
I'm not Iooking, but I see you.
I know
where you're Iooking. I know
you're Iooking at me.
Mother fucker.
OK.
You smell good.
Thanks.
Oh, God...
"Tick-tock goes your biological clock, but where is Mister Right?
Modern fashionistas,
what kind of man makes you drool?
1 ) Describe the Iooks of the man of your dreams."
What, now?
Yeah.
Brown hai... brown eyes.
For sure. Brown hair.
Down to here, about.
Short.
No, short... Well, curly.
Below the ears. AImost shoulder-Iength.
Curly, blond.
And green eyes, maybe.
This is so beautiful.
"In Iove when I ask for a Iook,
what is deeply unsatisfying and always futile,
is that you never Iook at me
from where I see you."
Smoke break. I'II wait outside.
My friends!
My friend!
Where do we put the gifts?
Shit, I am so wasted.
I've never been this drunk in my Iife!
- What? - Where do we put the gifts?
Oh yeah, right!
At the end of the hall,
the room to the right of the dining room.
They bought me presents! That's so cute!
Wow.
He's super drunk.
A boater.
- I bought him a boater. - Yes!
Beautiful, huh?
I just hope
he doesn't vomit in it.
No, joking.
He'II be super happy. It's cool!
Yours? Yours?
It's... It's a Iittle...
It's not as original.
Just some threads.
I wanna see! You have such great taste!
Orange!
Tangerine.
It's tangerine.
BIond hair and citrus tones...
always a victorious partnership.
Well, I mean...
Maybe, I dunno...
I've heard that orange
is a safe pick for any skin tone.
Dunno about fluorescent orange, though.
That may be the exception.
It'II go with my boater.
You Iook great.
Thanks, that's sweet. You too.
BIing bling!
They're precious.
What a party!
"T'as de beaux yeux, tu sais!"
Know where that's from?
Yeah, sure.
So?
So what?
So what comes next?
I dunno.
"What a party!"
Idiot!
Who's that android?
His mother.
Her name is Desiree.
He introduced me to her.
She said I Iooked Iike a 50s housewife.
Who is she anyway? Captain Spock's wet-nurse?
Or perhaps a prostitute from Blade Runner?
Your dress is a tad anachronistic.
Sorry?
This is vintage, dearie!
Not all vintage should come back.
Know what we should do?
No, what?
Go to my aunt's cottage for the weekend.
She's in Europe. I know where she hides the keys.
But I have to work.
Just call in sick.
Right.
"Hi, this is Marie, and I am sick."
"Hi, this is Sick, and I am Marie."
OK, I'II call.
How are we gonna get there?
Saddle up a cat?
- Magic carpet. - No, by car.
I'II borrow JP's wheels. He won't mind.
I better go now.
Who wants to come?
But someone stays. My mom's bringing some cash.
I need to buy cigarettes.
You'II see, Francis.
My mom's cool.
Can you zip me up?
You're good?
Thanks.
- Shall we? - Yeah, Iet's go.
- Later, Francis. - Later.
Hello.
The party was a fuckin' blast.
Have you known Nick Iong?
- About two months. - Two months!
Francois, right?
Francis, right!
He's talked about you.
It's true, you're a cutie!
Nice place, huh? Afriggin' palace!
His dad pays for it.
That dick thinks he's King of the World.
I Iove your...
What you're wearing, your top.
This? Thanks, sweetie.
Got it in New York, Iike, 10 years ago.
I'm a dancer, I pack Iight.
Don't travel much now, but...
Ask Nick.
As a kid he Ioved being backstage.
His dad thought it was heavy.
Said it was vulgar. "It's vulgar!"
What's a pair of tits to a toddler?. Fuck off.
But ask Nick.
I wonder if he still remembers.
The girls were crazy about him, smothered him with kisses.
He Ioved it. He was cute.
Yeah.
He must remember.
But we Iost touch.
I mean, Miami, Fort Lauderdale, Ixtapa...
Different time zones.
His dad snatched him back, pronto.
Father knows best.
Say that again.
He's gotta remember.
The dressing rooms.
I brought him this, his allowance.
Grocery, Iottery, candy, whatever.
Show him. He's an airhead.
He'II toss it out. Ciao sweet dough!
Not home?
I hoped to give him a smooch. Where the fuck is he?
He'II be back. He's out with...
Marie.
You'II tell him, right?
Give him a kiss from me, huh, twinkie?
He'II be glad, I'm sure.
- Nice meeting you, Francis. - Me, too.
You are a cutie.
- Bye. - Have a nice day.
Don't forget to tell him or he'II toss it out.
He's an airhead.
- Bye. - Have a nice day.
The country's so beautiful.
We tend to forget.
Audrey Hepburn!
Breakfast at Tiffany's.
That's where it's from! I forgot!
I adore Audrey Hepburn!
Me...
Gotta piss. Be right back.
Marie?
I Iove you.
I Iove you too.
Frankie, too. I Iove the dude.
I mean, he's so sweet!
- A bit shy, but... - Over-sensitive?
Yeah.
- In what way, sensitive? - No, nothing.
No, it's just he's...
He's a romantic.
He imagines things about people.
What do you mean?
It's just he imagines things,
about anything, anyone...
If you give him too much affection,
or touch him too much...
Like, for him,
"I Iove you" is
"l love you. "
You can say it to me.
I understand these kind of things.
But him...
Anyway...
Lunch is on me.
River.
Yeah, it's beautiful.
It's crazy.
Yeah, the country is beautiful.
You forget everything.
AII the shit that drives you crazy.
You forget.
Next marshmallow?
Not me, thanks.
Frankie?
OK.
You don't know how to eat 'em.
Why?
You eat your marshmallow too fast.
You're not tasting it.
A marshmallow's Iike a striptease.
Step by step.
- Have another... - No.
Man, I'm full, I swear.
Come on.
Now do as I say.
Start by taking off its coat.
Come again?
Its coat. Its Iittle peel, its skin.
The burned, golden Iayer.
Start with that.
OK.
Good start. Now,
using your palate and incisors, pull off the second part
by applying a teeny slight pressure.
But you Ieave...
you Ieave a thin core.
And then...
You're so drunk.
OK, I'm going to bed.
You're angry?
No no, just tired.
- You OK?. - Yeah, yeah.
Guys?
Whatever! Whatever!
Yeah, it's me.
Yes, on the cliff.
Yes. No, I'm going to take the bus.
An emergency. I forgot I had an emergency in Montreal.
I'II take the bus in an hour.
Don't go to any trouble for me. It's fine.
I'II just take the bus.
Bye.
Marie!
Wait!
Marie, fuck!
What's your fucking problem?
Hey, guys?
I've had it with the country.
I'm going home.
Love me or Ieave me.
We've been waiting outside the hotel for
15, even 25 minutes.
Endless!
It's raining.
A bitchy Iittle drizzle Iike, you know,
someone's goddamn spitting in your face.
My balls are ice cold, I'm insanely bored.
Julie's reading some poems by...
Jacques Brault.
It's taking forever, he's Iate, we're bored.
But Julie's gonna shoot herself if we bail.
There's an old doorman from Colorado.
No idea what he's doing there. But he's nice so we chat.
Finally he shows up.
That bitch is Iike...
45 minutes Iate.
He's wearing
his vintage Navy jacket.
He's cute. He's tall and...
We're there so Julie can make her move.
It's now or never. Problem is,
the guy
is with someone.
Another guy!
AIso cute and tall. I glance at Julie.
Her face Iooks Iike shit.
Dude's Iike,
"Sorry, I Iost. I Iate."
You don't call, you don't write,
or talk to her. Over.
If you know she's at a party or bar,
you don't go.
It took me about a year.
The Iucky ones get over it
in two weeks, two months, two days...
Every time I saw her I figured
I'd get cramps, be jealous of her new BF.
But no.
I got over it.
Autumn Ieaves fell,
snow came.
Christmas, and my cousins with their dumb girlfriends.
Spring, summer, fall and...
I got over it.
Just a bad memory.
A memory Iike many others.
When I think of what I did,
the money I blew to get her to Iove me...
I think of it all and
I'm so ashamed that...
I start to...
to sing.
To sing, fuck!
I sing in the Iiving room, in the shower,
doing the dishes.
I sing.
I hit Send.
I mean, enough's enough.
Smell the coffee. Not spend my whole Iife on Hotmail.
I mean, it's cute at fiirst, but...
It's such a high.
You know, the feeling
when your Inbox has new messages,
in bold.
You have mail!
The nanosecond after you click
and it appears.
He wrote.
You're even happier cause twice
your Inbox's been in bold.
An email from fucking Amazon.ca!
Or a Iampshade warehouse sale.
I'm in a cafe. I'm waiting for him.
And he's Iate.
But only a minute, so it's not serious.
So, stage one:
Ioving his being Iate.
You go, it makes him human,
gives him sex appeal.
Stage two:
Checking my agenda. You know,
I question myself.
Maybe I got it wrong. I invent scenarios.
I picture myself arriving Iate at another cafe.
So I Iook where I am and
I'm in the right place.
It's been 32 minutes.
Stage three:
I tell myself I don't mind waiting.
I keep myself busy, I read.
I pretend to read. The same fucking paragraph.
I go to the bathroom, order stuff.
Now I hate him.
I insult him in my head.
I think of cool quotes that'II be perfect for when he shows up.
It's been 39 minutes.
He arrives.
AII out of breath.
Handsome.
Traffiic was bad.
Yeah.
So I excuse him. I say,
of course, only normal that he's Iate.
Cause...
Cause I'm weak and
someone you put on a pedestal is always right.
Fuck it.
Rejection's tough but...
it's over with.
No?
It's Iike a guillotine.
But...
waiting for an answer,
spending weeks thinking I'm shit,
while he goes, is she crazy?
It's Iike getting your head chopped off in slo-mo.
It's Iike a Iong, Iingering No.
But at a certain point,
you get fed up.
You crack.
You crack and
everything's filthy.
Everything's dark and
burned out.
So I hit Send.
You're smoking a Iot.
Compared to Iast time.
I smoked as much then.
I Iove to smoke.
Smoking a cigarette is Iike
forgetting.
When I hit rock bottom it's all I have.
Light up, smoke up, shut the fuck up.
It hides the shit.
The smoke hides
the shit.
There's menthol and vanilla.
Some people Iike 'em.
Menthol cigarette.
Vanilla cigarette.
Chocolate cigarette.
Cigarette cigarette.
Cigarettes clearly keep me
from going crazy.
Keeps me alive.
It keeps me alive
until I die.
Are you
all right?
First snowfall!
So,
it's been a while since we saw each other in the country.
And I was wondering,
if there was some misunderstanding, or awkwardness?
If you were angry or...
You know, about the episode
of our bucolic wrestle.
That's it. Just a Iittle game between Marie and me.
We're old friends.
I thought of you because
they're showing My Fair Lady on TV.
I saw it in the TV Iistings.
My Fair Lady's on tonight.
I called cause I thought it'd be fun to watch.
It'd be fun to watch together.
If you feel Iike it. Here.
Or at your place or...
Anyway, if you're not busy.
So then...
Yes, this is Nicolas's voice mail.
So leave me a message.
I wait for you in the season that is ours.
We have to talk.
No, you know, I'm someone who...
No, l...
I like being with you.
I feel...
I feel good. Yeah, I Iike being with you.
OK.
Imagine...
Imagine that
Iet's say, we have a friend
and he meets a guy.
He meets a nice guy,
funny, charming,
handsome, of course.
He's intelligent. He's...
cultivated.
Very open-minded. So much that you go,
"Wow, he's so open-minded!" You're touched.
That's what seduces you, touches you.
He touches you. He's tender and fun.
Let's say you meet this nice guy, what do you do?
I Iove you.
I really want to kiss you.
I don't know why I'm telling you this.
No, it's just that,
it's the end of fall.
I'II have to start heating my place.
And it would be simpler if...
If there were someone.
It's simpler if there is someone.
And also, I haven't told you about my marks
Iike...
Christ!
Robinson Crusoe. I put a mark to...
You know, when...
someone tells me, "No, thanks."
"No. Thanks, but I'm not interested."
Whenever that happens I add another Iittle mark.
But now I'm just
tired of it. They help me make a clean break.
Know what I mean?
So...
You?
Talk to me.
How could you think I was gay?
Excuse me a sec.
Nico?
Hello!
Hi!
- How are you? - Good.
It's been so Iong. I spotted you. It's been ages.
Sorry, I was completely...
That's OK, it doesn't matter.
We're both busy. It's...
I called once but didn't Ieave a message.
Wasn't important. But I had a friend.
From Matane. She'd just got back from a trip.
Evelyne. And she...
Yeah, she was reading her mail and...
Cause, I'd sent her a Ietter.
I sent her a Ietter with an article,
an article by Peter Schlag
in the Boston Observer. I dunno if you...
It's a Iiterary review.
It was an article about...
Remains of Fascism in Modern Literature.
It's amazing!
I'm going on and on. But what I mean is,
it's to you that I wanted to send
the article.
And to her that I wanted to send... You got the poem?
It's to her I wanted to send the Miron poem.
I sent them the same night. I mixed up the addresses.
So you ended up with the poem by Miron.
I could see you reading the poem.
It was pretty heavy but it wasn't
the goal of the exercise.
Your friend,
is she your girlfriend?
Pardon?
The girl,
is she your Iover?. Your ex? Or...
No, not at all.
No, it was just her birthday.
She Iikes Miron and I thought... I'd sent her...
the poem.
Sorry, I have to run. I've got something on the stove.
So...
Nico! Nicolas!
What would you say if,
if I'd sent the poem to you?
I'd...
still have something on the stove.
Sorry.
Fuck!
I know it was him.
I'II never Iove anyone else that much. Tough.
I can handle it.
I know it's usually
Iater in Iife that you meet your soul mate.
Me, too bad. It happened now,
when I'm 25.
It's not even about sex. I don't care about sex.
That's not the main thing.
What's important is
to wake up with someone.
To spoon with that person.
That's what matters, the spoon.
Knowing that if a bad guy comes,
someone's there.
That's a metaphor. Bad guys never come.
You wake up with the wind,
a warm belly, the one who Ioves you
breathing against your shoulder.
That's it,
the spoon.
Yeah.
I must seem...
Ever met a downer Iike me or am I the first?
Oh boy! I've been a hairdresser 20 years,
I've styled single spoons galore.
Hello, Francis Riverekim,
I went shopping at Beverley's
and bought mismatched cups
to serve tea.
So, I don't know if you're free,
but you're invited for afternoon tea.
So call me back.
Oh, I quit smoking. Call me. Bye.
I'm out of madeleines.
Love your stubble.
Thanks.
You've joined the club of bears?
Here's that armchair.
The armchair I mentioned.
Yeah, right.
Have you seen Nico?
Yes.
I saw him in a bar.
Did you go together?
No, I was having a drink.
He came in with friends. I just said hi.
He's going to Asia.
- Is he? - Eight months.
Long time.
Have you seen him?
More tea?
Sure, good idea.
One year later
That repellent Rockabilly Iooks Iike a foetus-eating queen from Gehenna.
Yuck!
I'm really glad...
Subtitles: Robert Gray, Kinograph
DVD Subtitling: CNST, Montreal