La cité des enfants perdus

Clone:
C'est moi l'original! C'est moi!

Miette:
What are you doing?

One:
Heater.

Clone:
Does it hurt?

Mlle. Bismuth:
Yes, I'm allergic to steel.

Krank:
Quiet! You vegetable!

One:
Miette too little.

Miette:
Not that little.

Clone:
C'est moi l'original! C'est moi!

[after Mlle. Bismuth has been harpooned]

Clone:
Does it hurt?

Mlle. Bismuth:
Yes, I'm allergic to steel.

Krank:
Quiet! You vegetable!

One:
Miette too little.

Miette:
Not as little as all that.

Miette:
When you're born in the gutter you end up in the port.

L'oncle Irvin:
[Following through with his suggestion that a solution might be found found in an analysis of Krank's "tears"] Once upon a time there was an inventor so gifted that he could create life. A truly remarkable man.

Krank:
[Sarcastically] A fairy tale! Tears are welling in my eyes.

L'oncle Irvin:
Since he had no wife or children he decided to create them in his laboratory. He started with wife and fas into the most beautiful princess in the world. Alas, a wicked genetic fairy cast a spell on the inventor so much so that the princess was only knee height or less. He then cloned six children in his own image, faithful, hardworking. They were so alike no one could tell them apart. But fate tricked him again, giving them all sleeping sickness. Craving someone to talk to he grew in a fish-tank a poor migraine-ridden brain. And then at last he created his masterpiece more intelligent then the most intelligent man on Earth.

[Krank freezes]

L'oncle Irvin:
But alas the inventor made a serious mistake. While his creation was intelligent he never ever had a dream. You can't image how his sadness made him quickly he grow old.

[Krank sheds a single teardrop]

Clone:
[Seeing it] Boss!... There!... There! [Krank tries to catch it]

Clone:
Quick! A dropper!

Clone:
A dropper Quick!

Mlle. Bismuth:
[Bismuth and the clones start rushes around for a dropper] A dropper!

Mlle. Bismuth:
A dropper!

Clone:
A dropper!

Mlle. Bismuth:
A dropper! A dropper!

Clone:
A dropper!

Mlle. Bismuth:
[Finding one] Ah, a dropper! [Goes to Krank and gently uses it to get the tear]

L'oncle Irvin:
[Disgusted] The poor masterpiece became so crazed he believed a single tear drop could save him. And after many cruel deeds he died.

L'oncle Irvin:
[shouting] Never knowing what it was to dream!

Miette:
One? [One grunts] You asleep? [One breathes deeply and mumbles] What did you do before?

One:
One sailor. Harpooned Whales. One night [pauses] One hear whales singing. After [gestures throwing of harpoon] always always the target I miss. One loses job.

Miette:
One? [pauses] What's it like to have a little brother?

One:
Keeps you [pauses] running.

Miette:
Well, he can't complain he's got nobody to worry about him.

One:
[Turns over] Denree- little brother. Miette- little sister. [Blows air on Miette's back]

Miette:
What are you doing?

One:
[Whispers in Miette's ear] Radiator

Krank:
Irvin?

L'oncle Irvin:
I've got a migraine!

Krank:
Irvin, you know all about feelings. Won't you try to help me? Won't you explain why all those children only have nightmares?

L'oncle Irvin:
Because you are their nightmare. You could persecute all the children in the world, but there's one thing you'll never have.

Krank:
What?

L'oncle Irvin:
A soul.

Krank:
Because you believe you have one? You don't even have a body. The one who created us made us all monsters.

L'oncle Irvin:
No Krank, you're wrong. You are the only monster here.

Krank:
[Distressed] Be Quiet! He is the only one responsible for that, I say I'm innocent. I'm innocent!

Krank:
[Shuffles away and then turns back with regained composure] In any case, I thank you for your help.

le scaphandrier:
The Children!

Miette:
What about them? What do you know?

le scaphandrier:
He takes them. The Devil takes them away. In his boat... he takes them to Hell.

Miette:
What Hell?

le scaphandrier:
The tattooed man: he knows where. The map... the map of the minefield is tattooed on his body.

L'oncle Irvin:
[after Krank's latest failiure] Who stole the child's dreams? Krank, in his evil schemes. But the happy tale had a sting in it's tail. The genius has a fit of pique, hear the genius shriek, the 'genius' is up a creek.

One must becum one with the environment to be one of the first nashons. By Evan Jennings