Megalomaniacs, The (2025)

[bunniefuu]

I'm working with The Excavators,

the treasure hunting firm.

They are having us systematically

extract classical amphoras

and before they sell them

they give us less time

for archeological research than...

Than what this call will last

if you are not concrete.

Can you sculpt

a few amphora models for me?

- Potter? I don't hear you.

- I didn't speak.

Original sculpting is on me.

But models and exact

replicas will cost you.

What are the models for?

To experiment a sound hypothesis.

I have only one week to test it.

If results are positive with models,

they will let me test a few amphoras

that we have extracted.

Go on.

Hypothetically, sound vibration

can be recorded over spinning clay,

like in vinyl. Look.

Imagine ancient pottery outdoors.

- If a barley leaf... you see me?

- Yes, I do, go on.

If a barley leaf is accidentally

in contact with the spinning clay,

it would make an imprint.

And if a sound source,

sound, sound, sound, sound,

makes that barley vibrate

then the imprint would be sound waves.

So, when the clay amphora

becomes ceramic,

sound can be reproduced from it

just like in a vinyl record.

It is suspected that

certain classical amphoras,

might have accidentally recorded

simple sounds.

Sounds that are more

than two millenniums old,

and could possibly be played back today.

So?

Potter?

You seem ideally patient for someone

expecting sound from an amphora.

Give me a moment, will you?

I'm looking for bed sheets, in case

I decide to welcome you of course.

So?

Let me think about it.

Call me in the morning.

- He hang up.

- Classical Potter.

I don't know. Will he agree?

- He'll be a fool if he doesn't.

- He is a fool.

Look.

I should have done it like that.

Do it.

The wrist.

For him?

No. For you.

- What is it?

- A Bluetooth vibrator.

Wait.

Hold it.

I'm staying with Potter.

What about a taser g*n?

Three...

two...

one!

Are you sure?

You can also activate it yourself.

Whatever Punky says.

Punky? Should I take the vibrator?

What the f*ck?!

Let's get this sh*t over with.

Coming!

Sofia!

- Hi.

- So nice to see you.

- Finally.

- Yes, welcome.

So...

What's the plan with that clown, Sofia?

It's a c*ck.

His name is Punky.

He's related to my sound research and...

What?

A vomitive.

What the bloody hell?

Why did you do that?

I have to wash the clothes again!

Sorry. It wasn't me, honestly.

You think I'm dumb?

You're holding a wine glass.

It was someone else, accidentally.

Sorry.

You soaked me!

Repeat it and I'll break

your head with a broom!

Did you realize there was a woman under

your balcony when you threw the wine?

The widow!

She does her laundry on the beach.

And she thinks she can cross my property

whenever she likes.

So? You threw wine on her?

Consider it toll-tax.

Say 3.

For monastery list, say 4.

For dressing code, say 5.

- For access permits, say 6.

- Six.

Sorry, we did not register your

selection. Please repeat.

Six!

Sorry, we did not register

your selection. Please repeat.

Six!

Thank you. You selected six,

for access permits.

Please, confirm.

Yes.

Sorry, we did not register your

selection. Please confirm.

I confirm.

You selected access-permits.

Remember that

our millenary tradition

does not allow females

or female animals,

except for female cats and insects.

For orthodox access-permits,

say 1.

For non-orthodox access-permits,

say 2.

To speak to a representative, say 3.

If you're a female, please hang up.

I'm sorry.

Okay, yes.

Three.

Thank you. You selected three,

to speak to a representative.

- Please confirm.

- I confirm.

You will be connected

to a member of the Holly Committee.

Oh pure virgin.

Immaculate woman.

Good morning.

- Good morning?

- Eh... Hello.

- Hello.

- Hello.

I'm calling regarding the status

of an access-permit.

- What's the surname, please?

- Kosma.

- Kosmas?

- Kosma.

Kosma.

But that's a female surname.

Yes, it's for me. It's an exceptional

permit for archeological purposes.

You must be joking.

Not at all.

Why are you laughing?

I'm not laughing.

What do you mean?

I can hear you laughing.

No, the thing is you're a woman.

Yes, I know.

We've been in touch with your office,

trying to issue an exceptional permit.

I'm an archeologist working

on a research

for which your artifact

and book collection is highly useful.

I retrieved the file with your case.

Your name is not on the list

of approved permits.

But your colleague's name

has been approved. Mr. Petros...

Yes, of course.

May I ask a question,

without meaning any disrespect?

Why are female cats allowed access?

Because they have hunting abilities.

So you prefer animals

with hunting abilities,

instead of animals

with scientific abilities?

- Sorry, what do you mean?

- Aren't humans animals too?

- You mean you're an animal?

- We're both animals, all of us.

I'm not an animal.

Which mice do cats hunt?

The female mice that have sneaked in?

You're very lucky, Punky.

You can enter the Sacred Monastery.

Do you want to?

No? But I do.

f*ck!

f*ck! f*ck!

What?

Focus.

I was clear. I don't talk at the wheel.

Let alone chit-chat.

I'm sorry.

It's wonderful.

That is chit-chat.

Whispered chit-chat.

So, I don't teach, I don't talk,

I just signal.

Okay, focus now.

- Pigs?

- No.

- Mules?

- No.

- Goats?

- No.

- Bees?

- You can't control insects.

Too bad you're not a dragonfly.

- Cows?

- No.

- Chicken?

- No.

- Sheep?

- No.

- Cats?

- Yes! Because they hunt mice.

Right.

If the point is celibacy,

I don't see how one can't resist

when next to a cow.

Even though I saw it with chickens,

in a movie.

I didn't know you consumed

pornographic bestiality.

It was a seventies art film, Italian.

An Italian kid wants to study

his father, a tyrant,

does not allow it and forces him.

Poor Italian.

- Sure.

- Little one.

Obviously, very young.

And forces him to work on their farm.

Irrelevant, that's a different case.

Different case,

but as far as sexual temptation goes...

I know where you're going.

Disgusting transition.

- No way! Forget it!

- Am I disgusting?

We're talking about animals,

like we're in the Muppet Show.

These organizations remind me

of Muppets.

The monasteries have an access ban.

The institutions have not lifted the ban.

Those monasteries are seen

as World Heritage,

but refuse access to some people.

What World Heritage?

Sneak into the monastery

wearing a cat costume.

I don't eat mice.

Well done.

I eat...

spaghettini.

I'll document everything, don't worry.

Artifacts, artwork, rare books,

documents about pottery.

How are things with Potter?

Should I send you a taser-g*n?

Or should I send you something...

wait.

Should I send you this?

Sent.

- Very good.

- Stop it!

- Very good.

- Stop it, you'll wake Punky up.

I don't care.

f*ck!

f*ck!

What the f*ck is this?

No, no, cut the mime thing.

Is this...

what I think it is, Sofia?

You said no talking at the wheel.

Cut it!

Cut it now!

You can't just randomly show up

brandishing this kind of things here.

Is this some peep show?

Sound is vibration.

How would you feel, if I showed up

at your work, while diving,

and all of a sudden unzip my wetsuit

and take my ba*ls out?

Underwater?

I'm sorry.

Sorry, I should have warned you.

- You're being facetious.

- What?

- You're being facetious.

- What's that?

"Facetious"? You don't know?

You're dictionary phobic?

- No.

- No? But you don't know.

Facetious is treating serious issues

with deliberately inappropriate absurdity.

Even Nobel Prize nominations have been

rejected for not being absurd enough.

I think you need

a larger helping assistant thing

to stroke that ego of yours.

And by the way...

what about the fact that

battery things, plastic devices like that

didn't exist millenniums ago

when Mr. Cynic, philosopher Diogenes

was publicly masturbating,

by hand, I guess?

Have you heard of a concept

called "experimentation"?

Yes! Experimentation.

So how come we didn't use

the modern wheel

like the baboon carpenter suggested?

You can't drive an ancient wheel?

Mr. tiny ba*ls?

Watch your snout!

Mrs. Dictionary.

Please, I just need this...

specific frequency.

Just one more time.

- One more time...

- Please.

Just one more time,

in the name of science.

Thank you.

f*cking hell!

Lock that horny thing up!

And in the meanwhile...

castrate it!

f*ck!

What is eternity for you?

The name of a perfume.

I'm allergic to sublime

and sentimental questions, Sofia.

Try some antihistamines.

I'm also antihistamine intolerant.

Thinking that I can find sound recorded

millenniums ago gives me goosebumps.

And listening to this kind of things

gives me diarrhea.

You should start wearing diapers.

Now you're being interesting.

Diapers?

The first syllable in "diapers"

has the word "die".

Yes, Mrs. Dictionary, but written

with an "A", not an "E".

The sound. It sound like "die".

So what now?

You have reached the Potter residence.

Please do not leave a message.

Mr. Potter, I'm the carpenter.

This is the 13th time I call.

When will you pay for that

prehistoric pottery wheel?

Thank you.

I really thought you were going

to ship the models to a German lab

for laser reproduction, but no.

Mrs. Absurdity does it herself.

How long will you keep doing this?

Do you really believe all of a sudden,

sound will come out of your...

vase?

With your berserk method?

You know, barley is to make bread, Sofia.

But I'll show you something

that really reproduces sound.

Time for you to leave.

You're a skeptic, after all.

Scientifically the analog method

sounds absurd,

but it's ideal.

I also had a special-made needle

for the tonearm.

Hit the road, Sofia.

Hit the road, Sofia,

and don't you come back no more...

Hit the road, Sofia,

and don't you come back no more.

Hit the road.

Go, go, go.

These two have failed,

they can be flower vases.

But...

please help me make some more models.

Do you suddenly suffer from

Stockholm Syndrome, Sofia?

At last, you understand my humanity,

is that it?

Sentimental manipulation...

is what I call this.

One more model,

but with conditions.

First condition, no mooching.

What is mooching?

This is a dictionary.

Look it up.

Look it up, Sofia!

Mooching, with two o's.

Mona Lisa.

- Money?

- Yeah, that's what we're talking about.

Monk.

That's the buffoon worshiper!

Come on.

- Monolingual.

- That's what you are.

- Monster!

- That's what I am.

- Do you really think I'm mooching?

- Read it out loud.

"To ask for or obtain something without

paying or obtain at another's expense"?

Do you really think...

that I don't notice that you didn't

offer me any money for my sculpting?

You brought some crazy animal.

You think I'm a hunter-gatherer?

Or did you bring it as food?

Big miscommunication.

You know, Sofia...

you have the same vice with money

as Lazlo...

Lazarus, or whatever the f*ck

she's called, he's called.

At least respect him.

Does your brother respect me?

Do you respect me?

My time? My efforts?

My expenses since you've been here?

Figure a fair fee and let me know.

Second condition.

No more sentimental talk.

Third condition.

No more word explanations,

use the dictionary.

Fourth condition.

After midnight,

silence at the Potter residence.

No more moaning...

of an orgasmic bird.

It wasn't the bird, it was me.

I didn't find any sound.

Just one more.

I'm not crying.

I know.

Yes.

He's a monster.

He said some horrible things.

I wanted to electrocute him

with the taser.

About my brother, about me,

I don't want to remember.

Don't know. Maybe I'm a masochist,

tolerant.

I don't know, there must be

a psychological explanation.

I don't have time.

I fear the firm will sell the amphoras.

I'm worried I won't finish.

Yes, but he set conditions.

Conditions. I don't want to tell you.

I need to pay him.

I need to let him sleep... bullshit.

You're on his side now?

You want me to electrocute you too?

They sound normal

but the way he said them was horrible.

And he despises Punky.

And I can't masturbate in peace.

Masturbate!

Because I'm too loud.

Because I like that vibrator you gave me.

I didn't say something negative

about you,

I said something positive

about the vibrator.

I don't want to talk

about your little p*nis!

I leave you now.

- Your underwear.

- You can keep it.

- Keep it to remember me.

- I don't want to keep it, take it!

Don't you understand

that we can make jokes too?

The honey.

Megalomania!

Punky!

The bell! The bell!

The vibrator! The vibrator!

A miracle happened!

Now you talk, you skeptic f*ck!

You sadistic, psychotic, misanthropic,

alcoholic, coprophilic, narcissistic,

misogynistic, transphobic,

misophonic f*ck!

What is misophonic?

Look it up in your f*cking dictionary!

Stupid!

Misophonic...

Where will you be going, Sofia?

I'm going somewhere where

I can masturbate in peace!

I'll pick my stuff and Punky tomorrow.

I'm leaving the Potter residence.

It's a shitty place.

It looks like a pterodactyl was flying

and shitted, sh*t and shat above it

with the same kind of diarrhea you have

when you think I'm being sentimental!

If I'm serious, that's too sentimental.

If I am not serious, that's too absurd.

You are bitter because you

failed as an original potter

and now you make replicas.

And your replicas

are not for important museums,

but for shitty souvenir shops.

I thought of the fee

you deserve to be paid: Zero!

Zero!

Stop it! Stop!

Stop it!

You tiny ba*ls! You tiny ba*ls!

If you die first,

I will bury you with my f*cking vibrator!

Together for eternity!

What the f*ck?

What the f*ck?

Do I hear something?

What do I hear?

We'll go for a walk.

f*ck, I'll k*ll you!

b*tch!

You f*ck, I'll catch you!

Where is mommy?

Yes?

Good morning.

What for?

Yes, yes.

Give me a few minutes.

Where can I find an aspirin?

Thank you.

Sorry for electrocuting you.

How are you feeling?

A bit indigested.

I'm surprised you found me.

I'm surprised you found sound.

I have a proposal, Sofia.

If you want.

I wonder why you have a headache.

Luigi!

- Luigi!

- Do you need anything else?

- No.

- Yes.

- An Alka-Seltzer.

- Immediately.

So, about the proposal. I was thinking,

since I contributed to the creation

of the acoustic model,

I would really love to...

be part of the next step.

I thought maybe we can have Petros ship

the new extracted ancient amphoras

to my atelier

so we can test them together.

That would be...good.

So, no more conditions?

- No more conditions.

- Can I mooch?

- For now, yes.

- Can I have...

- Word definitions?

- As many words as you want.

Can I have sentimental talks?

- As saccharine as possible.

- Even at the pottery wheel?

Yes, at the modern wheel,

at the beautiful ancient wheel.

And you can make as much noise

as you want. Even after midnight.

Even the noise of Punky singing?

Yes.

You really like Punky now, eh?

Yes. Yes, he's very kind.

I would even like to keep him now.

I could teach him some words

from the dictionary.

No, he would be really good company,

since I'm often alone.

- He's a good roommate.

- He's so sensitive.

Sometimes at night,

he cuddles like a human baby.

Yes.

But keeping him is not an option anymore.

So?

About the proposal?

Would you be a little excited about having

the ancient amphoras being shipped?

I was dreaming...

when they called me from the lobby,

I was...

having a dream...

I dreamt of my child self-speaking

to my adult self,

the girl and the woman.

And the girl was born blind and deaf.

And the woman had the power to heal

one of the girl's senses.

So, for the girl to experience the senses

before selecting which to heal,

the woman restored the girl's vision

for a moment.

And soon after,

the woman allowed the girl

to listen to a sound,

the woman had found in a 450 BC amphora.

And then...

the woman asked which of the two senses

would the girl preferred restored.

And the girl said...

I would sacrifice my sense of sight

a thousand times,

to listen to that sound once more.

And what was that sound?

It was the laughter of Diogenes,

the cynic.

And then, the amphora ended up

in the British museum,

and there were titles,

in my dream, just like in the films.

And they said...

"British Museum, London, circa 2500 AD"

It was on permanent display

so everyone could hear it.

And how did you know

it was Diogenes' laughter?

In dreams, you just know.

And...

the feeling of listening to his laughter

was so realistic that

I got goosebumps in the dream.

I can imagine. Also getting goosebumps

from hearing you telling this dream.

- An Alka-Seltzer.

- Thank you.

- And a glass with H2O.

- Yes, thank you, Mario.

It's not Mario, it's Luigi.

Yes, thank you.

- Luigi! Ciao, bello!

- Ciao!

Thank you, Mario.

Luigi.

Luigi.

So?

Do we agree upon the proposal?

You said you had goosebumps.

I don't see any goosebumps.

No, of course not.

It was before Mario interrupted.

I'll think about it.

Sounds good.

You have reached the Potter residence.

Please do not leave a message.

This is Golda Goldstein

from the Excavators.

We're trying to reach Sofia.

She left this number as her contact.

We've sold the amphoras.

We're sending people to collect them

as soon as possible.

You're welcome to extract new ones.

Can I look at his testicles?

- His testicles?

- Yes, his testicles.

Chips?

Chips? You're serious?

Is this the right time to offer chips?

They're not plain chips,

they're exotic chips.

It doesn't matter, it's irrelevant.

Please step outside. Or stop eating!

I apologize, Lazarus.

Don't worry about it.

He can't hear anymore.

On the eve of his eleventh winter birthday

in a remote hotel in Antwerp,

little orphan Potter was escorted

to his room by his horny aunt.

Legend has it, that his hotel-maid aunt

despised diamonds and

Flemish Baroque paintings by Rubens.

Despite her bitterness, she loved spiking

her guests' chamomile teas with r*pe-drugs

before room service, while under

her garments she had a strap-on.

The rest is history.

After escaping northern Europe,

teenage Potter settled in Italy

to recover from a displaced coccyx.

Thanks to his pickpocketing

skills he discovered

Michelangelo's Bacchus sculpture.

And it rocked Potter's world.

While following a tourist

in a museum,

Potter's attention was captivated

with Bacchus' testicles.

Potter felt identified with Bacchus'

abnormally swollen testes,

because Potter suffered from

Macro-orchidism Syndrome.

He befriended wine to emulate

his new idol

and obsessed with his creator,

particularly due to his anecdotes

about fraudulence.

Potter admired how Sleeping Cupid

was acquired

as an authentic ancient sculpture

only for a fooled cardinal to later

realize it was created by Michelangelo

However, Potter failed miserably

as a sculptor of the human form.

As opposed to Michelangelo's

colossal courage for corpse anatomy,

Potter, ironically, didn't have the ba*ls.

But he gained potter recognition in a

world-class exhibition, where we met.

We married and I became his manager.

We loathed associations

with his martial-artist countryman

and dropped his surname Van Dame.

We settled for

the pretentious mononym Potter.

We separated

and his success plummeted.

With a wounded ego he became

that Potter that you know.

His corpse not only resembles Bacchus,

but his closed eyes also resemble

those of Sleeping Cupid.

Remove the f*cking helmet!

- Is this his last wish?

- f*cking whisper!

Why burn him?

Doesn't your faith forbid it?

Now you care about the church?

I care about evidence.

I'm an archeologist.

You've gone mad!

They never gave me enough time

with the amphoras!

- Be quiet.

- Stupid!

Come on, now.

Good morning.

- Good morning.

- Good morning, father.

- Please, sit down.

- Yes.

Oopsie daisy.

How can I help you?

First of all, thank you for seeing us.

My ex-husband died in an accident.

May God keep you strong.

I am sorry for your loss.

I wish him a good stay in paradise.

How long ago?

He is in the morgue.

When are you planning to bury him?

That's the issue.

We are not planning to bury him.

We will cremate him.

I know cremation is barely

legal in the country

and that the Church opposes it.

So why are you here?

Because we discussed with the guys

that it would be a pity not to find

a priest that is willing

to give funerals services

to the body before cremation.

- Is this his last wish?

- I asked the same.

There's no document,

we're supposed to believe this wish.

- Thank you.

- Why?

- Why cremation?

- That is a very vital question.

I know that in our country,

as far as I know,

cemeteries here are saturated

I don't want to exhume his bones

in a few years.

It's difficult, I live abroad.

I prefer going to Bulgaria

and cremate him.

Look, land management is not our task.

We respect your free will,

but because we oppose cremation

we don't offer funeral services.

I hear you and I respect your position.

Can I find a priest that can offer

funeral services as an exception?

Why do you insist?

Because...

I've heard about priests who have done it.

You whisper to respect the chapel?

Or you don't want anyone to hear

your implicit offer to buy me off?

- Father.

- May God guide you.

Give it to me.

Did you set Potter's ba*ls as screensaver?

Only one ball. The other didn't fit.

I tried the vertical framing too.

- Give me the code.

- You're holding it.

The code to unlock the phone,

you dumbass.

Here.

Six-nine, nine-six.

He'll drive us crazy with those numbers.

- Stupid Potter!

- Respect the immortal.

Here, take it.

He'll drive us completely crazy.

- What is it?

- I can't believe it. Petro, come and see.

- What?

- I don't believe it.

- Let me go b*tch!

- I don't believe it.

Is this a joke?

- Did he do what I'm thinking?

- He did.

- What did he do?

- Shut up!

- Come.

- He made a replica.

And kept the original.

When we returned them, I counted six.

He fooled the treasure hunting firm.

He fooled the rich collectors.

He fooled everyone.

Like your story of Michelangelo fooling

the cardinal with Sleeping Cupid.

- Outlet.

- Yes.

Headphones.

You're all set.