Original subtitles

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.

- The new number: 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?

♪ Frère Jacques Frère Jacques ♪

♪ Dormez vous? Dormez vous? ♪

♪ Sonnez les matines Sonnez les matines ♪

♪ Ding dang dong Ding dang dong ♪

♪ Frère Jacques Frère Jacques ♪

♪ Dormez vous? Dormez vous? ♪

♪ Sonnez les matines Sonnez les matines ♪

♪ Ding dang dong Ding dang dong ♪

Now all the guys who fuck sheep.

♪ Frère Jacques Frère Jacques ♪

♪ Dormez vous? Dormez vous? ♪

Sonnez les matines ♪

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. You are Quasi: 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.

♪ Frère Jacques Frère Jacques ♪

♪ Dormez vous? Dormez vous? ♪

♪ Sonnez les matines Sonnez les matines ♪

♪ Ding dang dong Ding dang dong ♪

Ding dang dong ♪

- 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?

JK, JK.

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.

♪ Ding dang dong Ding dang dong ♪

Cut!