Beware of a Holy Whore Page #4

goes out of picture.

The camera stays on the minister,

then pans past some oil paintings.

They're the guy's

ancestors maybe.

Return to the woman, a front shot

with Eddie from the rear.

They look at each other.

Eddie strikes her.

She collapses without a sound.

Eddie goes into the garden,

lights a cigarette... And that's it.

A murder like that's a strange thing.

It'll appear really sentimental,

and the audience

is immediately rattled,

because it thinks it knows people

up there.

But not the way they tick.

That's what we want to try to show.

You have to understand

what a murder really means.

Tremendous. But it won't be easy.

- You reckon Eddie can do it?

- Do it? Sure. He's got brains.

- The lighting won't be easy.

- I know.

- I'm going to bed.

- Goodnight.

What's up?

The woman there.

Oh, I see.

What's up?

He's hot on that woman there.

I wouldn't say no either

if she were to approach me.

- And if she didn't?

- Then I'd keep mine buttoned up.

Sascha. Come down, will you?

Cigarette?

Me, too.

That's obvious.

Do you think I'd call otherwise?

What's the problem?

Leave me in peace.

Is there something

bothering you, Mark?

No.

Do you know this game?

- What?

- I'll show you.

I knew I would come.

Sh*t.

The other way round.

David, you try it.

Well, what's up?

Can you fix it for Ricky

to f*** that woman?

- Which woman?

- The one sitting there.

She's here with her husband.

Offer her money.

She just has to tell him

she wants to. Otherwise he can't.

No way.

Goodnight.

Want to try?

His reactions are amazing.

Society has made him dead somehow.

He can't react from within anymore.

Don't talk so much.

Try it with me.

If you hit me even once,

I'll kiss you in front of everyone.

You little arse-peddler.

There.

- Come on.

- You have to go?

- I'm afraid so.

- Bye.

Good bye.

Go on, run after that c*nt.

That's all she needs,

a pig like you.

Let's go listen to some music.

OK.

And you can f*** off too in future.

How can anyone sleep

with this racket?

Serves you right.

- My face feels like it's inside out.

- Are you pissed?

- Yeah.

- Me, too.

Do you really believe that?

Damn it. I can't understand a word

when you speak French.

Shall I tell him?

Let's sing a song.

What?

I'll start and you follow. OK?

OK.

Oh, where am I to turn to...

Now.

...when suffering grief and pain?

Whom can I tell

of my delight

when joy fills

my heart again?

To You, to You

Oh, Father,

I come

in pain and sorrow

You send

bliss and gladness

You heal

All my woe

No, thanks.

I think so.

I would move to Spain, too, but...

I don't know what

we should do either.

He must phone Bonn to send

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