Too Fat Too Furious Page #3

Mast...

Hello?

Hello?

Koen.

Can you talk a little louder?

I'm robbing a bank!

I have them all covered!

- What?

Now what?

- Have you gone crazy?

We need money for Dad, don't we?

Make the staff stand by the wall,

away from the counter.

Don't do anything without me. Just wait.

That was Koen, at the bank.

He's having trouble filling in

a deposit form.

I'm glad you get on so well together.

It may sound grand, European boxing

champion but it's all fixed.

They agree in advance

who's going to win.

Be quiet!

- No! I don't care who hears.

It's all fake!

On Friday, Lars Meuleman is going down

in the second minute of the third round...

Shut your face!

Or else...

Or else what?

I'll shoot you!

Go ahead.

Hey, it's Bennie!

Lie down! All of you! Lie down!

Okay, come on. Fill it with money.

Now! Come on!

Hello?

Might this be yours?

Ah, yes. Right. Merci.

Lie down! Come on!

My jacket, Fatso!

Who's a Fatso round here?

- I have to wear it to a funeral!

What funeral? A woman's?

- What's the difference!

Put on that hat! And I'm not fat!

Hello, hello? Who's paying

for my jacket? Fatso...

You, you... all of you. Come with me!

Come with me!

Hello, hostage takers.

My name is Jennifer

and I'm here for you.

We can defeat this crisis

if we trust each other.

Come on!

Run! Faster, b*tch...

Come on, run...

Sit down, b*tch!

Drive!

Drive! Drive, b*tch!

- No! I need to pee.

Drive. Christ. Drive.

Is this the only road you can take?

You talk about integration every day.

Why don't they integrate this road?

Keys!

Keys!

Key.

Christ...

What's your name?

- Katia...

You mentioned a funeral?

Yes, a girl who committed suicide.

Unrequited love.

Hello!

And what's the girl's name?

- Katia.

Will you stop chattering?

I'm trying to concentrate.

I fear she's dead.

I fear she's dead?

Why can't you learn to speak

proper Dutch!

It's your fault we raided

that bloody bank!

I was to arrange the money!

- Something's blocking the way.

Where?

Sh*t!

F***.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

A LITTLE FURTHER DOWN

Does that belong to Dad?

- Put that sheet back. Yes, she's dad's.

She?

- Yes...

Mast always called her Betsy.

After his first great love.

I was his driver,

from when I was sixteen.

We interrogated Teddy Vee

on the back seat.

It took hours to scrub it clean again.

That's not even 100,000 Euros.

They won't even cut him open for that.

A bank robbery. That's a great idea!

What about his car?

Can't we sell his car?

Listen, dog breath,

I'll only say this once.

This isn't just a car.

It's Betsy, Mast's car.

If you want to sell her, you might as well

go to the hospital and pull the plug.

Understood?

But how will we get money for the liver?

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