Immoral Tales
with, in order of appearance
The Tide
Love, with all its pleasure,
becomes even more blissful through the way it is expressed.
The Tide
Based on a story by André Pieyre de Mandiargues
“My cousin Julie was 16, I was 20.
“This small age difference made her susceptible to my authority.”
—Take care of yourselves. —Now don’t worry, mother.
—Be careful too. —Yes, yes.
Farewell, till tomorrow! Don’t worry.
Julie!
How many tomatoes do you want?
Two. But hurry now!
Julie!
—My hat! —Where is it?
In my bedroom under the bed!
Take off that hat.
—You’re wearing one. —This isn’t a hat.
Now you’ve flown away, naughty nightingale
That was my turn to play
Be back in my dreams, happy nightingale
Take a rest all day That night is my turn to play
I’m running ahead … so as not see you.
I’ll forget you, so it’ll be more exciting when we meet at the beach.
—How many? —Five. Really.
Since Last summer, I have met five boys.
—What do you mean you “met” them? —We’d meet.
—Where? —At parties.
We kissed.
—And that’s all? —Yes.
—On the lips? —No, Mum was always nearby.
Untouched.
Thanks to my aunt.
But today, she is far away.
Poor thing, with that wig of hers.
—What? —Never mind.
I’m saying your mother looks like Madame Claude.
That fat lady that gets you girls in Paris?
—Me, and my friends. —Prostitutes.
—Whores. —Do you see them often?
Every Wednesday. We don’t just watch them, we have fun.
—Do you kiss? —Not quite.
But we do use their lips.
Watch it, brat!
If we go any further, water might reach us.
We’ll hardly make it back to Couville beach before high tide.
It’s your fault.
You should’ve been ready sooner.
But it’s too late now.
There is no way we can be back. We’ve gone too far.
We’ll reach that boulder in front of us …
and we’ll stay there until tide has gone down.
My feet hurt!
What’s going to happen?
There’s no one around. The tide is coming in …
It’ll run into the pool, but not much more.
The dry seaweed on the rocks you can see out there …
If we just sit higher up, only our feet will be wet.
Hey, Julie!
André, I’m over here!
Come over to me!
On all fours!
Stand up.
Now, put your dress back on …
It’s already dirty.
Never mind. You can rinse it out when we get back to the house.
High and Low Tide Hours
Now take off this wet bathing suit so that you’re nude under the dress.
Playing hide and seek in the seaweed is a silly game.
You’re going to play another game with me.
I don’t mind.
Come here!
Come!
Come closer …
Some more …
Come as close as you can.
Look. You see …
Eleven twenty-seven.
For a long time, I’ve wanted your lips
Like a man in the desert needs water.
Now, nothing can stop me. I’m going to fulfil my desire
and appease my thirst.
You really want me to kiss you on the mouth?
I’m not going to kiss you on the mouth, as you so guilty put it.
But you’re going to take me in your mouth just like I told you.
You seemed to understand.
Like the whores at Mrs Claude’s.
I’ll stay in you as long as it takes the tide to rise,
more than half an hour.
During that time, to keep your mouth on me,
I’ll explain to you the mechanism of the tides.
You’ll pay attention to what I’ll be doing in your mouth,
to what I’ll say about the sea that rises like my desire.
At 11:27, precisely,
I will come in your mouth.
You should know that such self-control is not easy,
but I’ve mastered it, despite being not much older than you.
Meanwhile, I will need to meditate …
and you, too, should meditate.
You should think carefully about whatever you like …
yourself, or me … about someone or something you want.
Above all, you’ll feel the progression of my desire as it reaches fulfilment.
When at last, I come in your throat,
you will swallow my living fluid gently and obediently.
This vital gift is very important
and you will think of this gift
as being the result of the great tidal movement around us.
But you shouldn’t expect me to tell you about what I thought all alone.
Come, there is no more time to lose.
Mean girl …
My pretty little Julie … I just want your happiness.
I’ll pour you life’s nectar
and it’ll be sweet as honey in your mouth.
All tides are created
by the attraction of the moon and the sun.
And the tide’s force,
as the sun …
in its course approaches the moon, is bigger.
—There is still time to have some fun. —No.
You must realise it wasn’t to have some fun that we came here.
It was for your education.
Now you will understand the mysteries of the tides.
Thérèse Philosopher
“The people from our region demand the beatification of Thérèse H.,
“a pious young girl,
“shamelessly raped by a vagrant.”
La Gazette du Dimanche 10th July, 1890
Goodness comes by conversing with those who are good.
Those are the words of the Holy Ghost.
I am the Master of Souls, and I lead them gently where I wish.
My child, it is not necessary to be very wise to please me.
It is enough to love me very much.
I love you, my dear Lord.
l am Master of all earthly souls
and each material body is also in my possession.
Ask of me …
You’ll get everything that can aid you in achieving sainthood.
What do you want, my dear child?
I want to be happy.
l am here. l will not forsake you.
My heart, my hands are full of treasures
and I have only one wish … To spread them abundantly.
Ask me to be of help.
Show me by telling me your weaknesses,
how sensual you are … how proud,
susceptible, selfish, cowardly, lazy …
Be ashamed at your lack of repentance.
Forgive me, my dear Lord.
Oh, no!
—You little liar! You’ll be punished! —I just stayed in church after mass!
—Liar! —I really stayed in the church!
No! No!
I didn’t do anything!
—Little liar! —It’s true!
Liar!
You’ll be locked up here three days and three nights!
Please give me my Stations of the Cross!
My Stations of the Cross!
Here!
“Yes.
“Yes, come, let your lips touch this water.
“It will quench your thirst.
“It will make you share the life of angels.
“It will awaken your faith
“and your goodness will overcome all.
“It will bring the hope of a better world
“where almighty God will give us the comfort of His possessions
“and of His Love.”
My delight is to be always with you.
l am here to comfort you,
to make you smile, to bring you joy.
You didn’t expect to see me.
It is a reward you did not believe you deserved.
l trust fully in Your Providence.
I am coming to you, sweet Jesus.
My heart is ready.
My heart, my hands are full of treasures …
How sensual you are, how proud, susceptible, selfish, cowardly, lazy …
Help!
The Beast
In 1765.
A monster, the beast of Gévaudan,
spreads terror in France, in the Massif Central region.
In 1610.
Countess Erzsébet Báthory, accompanied by a squire,
visits the villages and settlements of Nyitra County in Hungary.
Go away!
Don’t be afraid.
The Countess Báthory is at present
searching the countryside for honest and simple young girls.
They’re paid, fed and housed better than the King himself.
Tell your people to come out.
Come on out! Don’t be afraid!
Out, all of you!
The chosen girls will receive a great reward.
On Sunday, those who find favour with our dear Countess
will be allowed to touch her famous, miraculous lace gown,
strewn all over with pearls.
Those who touch the gown will know the meaning of eternal joy!
István!
—What is that? —A rising sun.
Leave me alone, you thief!
It’s you that is the thief!
What did you say?
—Thief! —Leave me alone!
It’s not me, it’s her!
Have the new ones take a bath.
Erzsébet Báthory …
I’ve orders to arrest you in the King’s name.
All resistance is quite useless.
In 1498.
Lucrezia Borgia, accompanied by her husband, Giovanni Sforza,
visits her father, Pope Alexander VI, and brother, Cesare Borgia.
The Dominican Hyeronimo Savonarola
accuses the Church hierarchy of dissolution.
A beautiful princess!
And so, you, Italy’s profane church,
you were once quite shameful!
That the evil and the lust be known!
Now, today, you have set aside virtue.
Woman astride a tiger.
What breasts!
I announce to Rome and to the world, the impotence of my son-in-law,
Giovanni Sforza, Count of Pesaro.
Evil tongues claim that my biscuits are bitter!
Vicious gossip! Judge for yourself. Taste one.
Your susceptibility is insulting, my dear Count.
Let us look at the stallions. Enough of these mice!
Francesco … pupil of Pinturicchio.
Remarkable precision!
Such truth encompassed in so few lines. It’s prodigious!
Bufero!
—Don’t close your eyes, my dear Count. —I can hear Bufero neighing.
But why be afraid to listen?
The hooves of mares,
Listen to them, the mares from the fields.
Oh, those mares from the fields!
—What profanity! —Bufero!
Bufero, my love.
My dear son, calm yourself, young man.
Oh no! Please don’t complain, my son!
Just listen to Ariosto.
Lucrezia Borgia would also gladly have relations with such a beast.
You know well … once … if priests had fathered infants,
they named them their nephews!
However they name their sons now …
Sons of sin! Infants of shame!
Father, you said the Church was prostituted?
Not the Holy Church!
You are so ignorant.
Listen to Saint Jeremy commenting Ezekiel. He says it clearly:
“It’s to the Holy Church that we must always turn!”
Go back home,
meditate, and later you might ponder on this seriously.
This is my mother.
Her body is covered.
Beautiful little ears.
As tin by silver, brass by gold,
As corn-poppy beside the deeply-crimsoning rose.
Willow by laurel evergreen, as shorn of light.
Stained glass by gem that richly glows …
And we’re not only talking about the abuse of women and young boys!
They’re interested only in dogs or in mules …
Virgo in gloria!
The one, whose praise I sing, is not yet born.
She will be at all times of great renown,
of singular beauty,
of great wisdom, endowed with all the rarest qualities …
And above all other illustrious merits,
with which she will be blessed now and hereafter,
as praises had once been sung of Hercules and his royal suit,
and of his sons of great renown.
Great state was given then to rich ornaments, but it mattered little
whether their dress was armour or toga …
for whether good or bad, the true taste of wine changes little
even when decanted into new bottle.
Sancta Lucrezia!
The Chosen Lamb has descended from heaven,
a gold and purple crown upon his head.
All comes from me.
Caesar, you are also my creation.
Tempus fugit …. Bring my horse!
The dear Lord has permitted his garden to be trampled.
Come ye, head of the Church!
Come ye, priests! Come ye, clerics!
At night, you’re abed with concubines.
Yet, at matins, you dare approach the holy table of Christ.
Our Lord, Jesus Christ, has ordained me to defend the truth.
And I will do so to my last breath!
So, mark my words, this very truth will burst forth!
The End