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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 gun?
Three...
two...
one!
Are you sure?
You can also activate it yourself.
Whatever Punky says. Punky? Should I take the vibrator?
What the fuck?!
Let's get this shit 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 cockatoo. 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.
Fuck!
Fuck! Fuck!
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-gun?
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.
Fuck!
What the fuck 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 balls 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 balls?
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.
Fucking hell!
Lock that horny thing up!
And in the meanwhile...
castrate it!
Fuck!
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 fuck 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 penis!
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 fucker!
You sadistic, psychotic, misanthropic,
alcoholic, coprophilic, narcissistic,
misogynistic, transphobic, misophonic fucker!
What is misophonic?
Look it up in your fucking 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, shit 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 balls! You tiny balls!
If you die first, I will bury you with my fucking vibrator!
Together for eternity!
What the fuck?
Do I hear something?
What do I hear?
We'll go for a walk.
Fucker, I'll kill you!
Bitch!
You fucker, 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.
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 rape-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 balls.
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 fucking helmet!
- Is this his last wish? - Fucking 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 balls 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 bitch! - 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.