
English: 
(dramatic orchestral music)
(people chattering)
- [Narrator] The weary gunfighter
walked slowly through the saloon.
The long miles from Cheyenne
had taken their toll.
- Who's saying that stuff?
- [Narrator] He scanned the
room with a suspicious eye.
Years of being on the
wrong side of the law
had taught him that a tough
man can get out of a situation,
but a smart man never
gets himself into one.
- Please quit doing that, I just want to
have a shot of whiskey in peace.

French: 
Fatigué, l'as de la gâchette traverse lentement le saloon.
Le long trajet depuis Cheyenne se fait ressentir.
Qui raconte ça?
Il balaie la pièce d'un air méfiant.
Ayant été des années hors-la-loi,
il sait qu'un dur à cuire
se sort d'une sale situation
et qu'un gars malin l'évite.
Arrête ça.
Je veux boire un whisky en paix.

French: 
Mais aucune paix pour lui:
les Henderson l'attendaient
pour le tuer,
sa tête ayant été mise à prix
200 dollars.
C'est vrai?
Vous voulez me tuer
comme le dit cette voix?
Non.
Mentit l'aîné des Henderson.
Comment tu le sais?
Demanda l'aîné des Henderson à l'air.
J'ai pas demandé à l'air. Je te le
demande à toi, putain de... voix.
Dit l'aîné des Henderson.
Arrête de dire "l'aîné des Henderson"!
Implora Tommy...
l'aîné des Henderson.
La main du cadet des Henderson
toucha le Colt sur sa hanche droite.
Il voulait crier "derrière toi"
pour duper l'as de la gâchette
et le faire se retourner
pour lui tirer dans le dos.
Pas du tout!
"Derrière toi"? Encore? Qu'est-ce
qu'il y aurait eu derrière lui?
Rien.
Johnny mentait. Il allait dire un ours.
Allez!
Un ours, Johnny? Dans un saloon?

English: 
- [Narrator] But the
gunfighter would find no peace.
For the Henderson boys
were waiting in the corner
to kill him for the
$200 bounty on his head.
- Is that true?
You boys trying to kill me
like this voice is saying?
- Uhh...
No.
- [Narrator] Lied the
oldest Henderson boy.
- How do you know I'm lying?
- [Narrator] The oldest
Henderson boy asked of the air.
- No, I didn't ask the air.
I'm asking you, you fuckin' voice.
- [Narrator] Said the
oldest Henderson boy.
- Would you please stop saying
"Said the oldest Henderson boy"?
- [Narrator] Implored Tommy,
the oldest Henderson boy.
Meanwhile, the younger
Henderson's hand twitched
by the Colt Peacemaker on his right hip.
He was thinking of shouting
"Look out behind you"
to trick the gunfighter
into turning around
so he could shoot him in the back.
- No, I was not!
- Come on, Johnny, again
with the "Look behind you"?
What were you gonna say
was behind him this time?
- Uhh, nothing.
- [Narrator] Johnny lied.
He was going to say a bear.
- Oh, come on.
(people laughing)

French: 
Johnny rougit.
Il aurait voulait être en lieu sûr,
chez lui, au lit...
avec ses poupées.
Quoi?
Hé! J'ai pas de poupées!
Pour se calmer, il s'imagina coiffant
ses poupées et leur servant le thé.
Non!
Attends, attends, attends.
Tu prends le thé
avec tes poupées?
La vulnérabilité du garçon ouvrit
une porte dans le cœur du tireur.
Non, pas du tout!
Une mer d'émotions troublantes
le submergea.
Non.
Il s'imagina tenir le garçon
et caresser ses cheveux gras.
Non!
Il se représenta leur premier baiser.
Si maladroit qu'ils rirent.
Mais le suivant serait mieux.
Je ne me représente pas ça!
Mais en lui, si.
Non, pas du tout!
Mais si.
Non, un point c'est tout!

English: 
- A bear, Johnny? In a saloon?
- [Narrator] Johnny's face turned red.
He began wishing he was in a safe place
at home, in bed, with his dolls.
(Johnny scoffs)
Hey, hey, I ain't got no dolls!
- [Narrator] To calm his
nerves, he pictured himself
combing his dolls' hair and
pouring them each a cup of tea.
- No!
- Wait, wait, wait.
You have tea parties with your dolls?
- [Narrator] But something about
the younger Henderson's vulnerability
opened a door in the gunfighter's heart.
- Nope, no it didn't!
- [Narrator] Inside, a
sea of confusing emotions
bubbled to the surface.
- No.
- [Narrator] He started imagining himself
holding the younger Henderson
and stroking his greasy hair.
- No!
- [Narrator] He pictured his first kiss
with the younger Henderson.
- No, that--
- [Narrator] They both
giggle at how clumsy it was.
- No.
- [Narrator] They know the
next one will be even better.
- I'm seriously not picturing that!
- [Narrator] But inside he was.
- No, I'm not!
- [Narrator] But he was.
- No, I'm not and that's the final word.

French: 
Mais il le faisait.
Nom d'un chien!
Pourquoi vous ne prenez pas
une chambre?
Pourquoi croire cette voix?
L'as de la gâchette eut une idée.
Hé, toi.
Moi?
Choisis un nombre entre 1 et 100.
On verra si la voix
lit dans nos pensées.
Ok, compris.
Sally, la putain, se mit à penser
à son nombre préféré, le 32.
Mais comme ses parties intimes
la grattaient, elle choisit le 76:
son deuxième nombre préféré.
La voix a raison!
Le 32 est mon préféré,
mais j'ai changé d'avis et pris le 76!
Et ta chatte?
Elle me gratte depuis samedi,
Bill. Tu sais pourquoi?
Non.
Il savait,
mais nous allons y venir.
La voix sait tout.

English: 
- [Narrator] But he was.
- Goddamnit!
- Why don't you two go get a room?
- Hey, why should we
trust this voice anyway?
- [Narrator] Just then,
the gunfighter had an idea.
- Hey, you.
- Me?
- Think of a number between one and 100
and then we'll see if this voice
really knows what we're thinkin'!
- Okay, got it.
- [Narrator] Sally the
whore began thinking
of her favorite number, which was 32.
She then thought of her lady
parts and how itchy they were
before deciding to change
her mind and go with 76,
her second favorite number.
- The voice is right!
32 is my favorite number,
but then I changed my
mind and went with 76!
- And your cooch?
- It's been itching something
horrible since Saturday, Bill.
You know anything about that?
- Uhh,
no.
- [Narrator] He did, but
we'll get to that in a minute.
- Looks like that voice
really does know everything.

French: 
L'as de la gâchette vit alors
que le barman était noir.
C'était encore rare dans l'Ouest, mais le tireur n'avait rien contre.
Heu... merci?
Les habitants étaient fiers
de leur vue progressiste sur les races.
C'est vrai.
Mais, s'ils avaient su que Sam couchait avec la femme de Ned?
Quoi?
Relax, Ned.
Tout le monde l'a fait avec elle.
Coupable.
Oui, tu as raison.
Et la sœur d'Elijah Jessup.
Bien, Sam doit mourir.
Fais gaffe Jessup.
Baisse ton arme ou je t'éclate!
Cette musique...
Elle semble menaçante, non?
Menaçante!
Ça veut dire quoi?
Une chose terrible va arriver,
comme une fusillade inutile.

English: 
- [Narrator] The gunfighter
noticed for the first time
that the bartender was black.
This was still unusual in the west,
but the gunfighter decided
he was okay with it.
- Umm, thanks?
- [Narrator] The people in
the town prided themselves
for their progressive
attitudes about race.
- That's right.
- [Narrator] But would
they still feel that way
if they knew that Sam had been sleeping
with Ned Schilling's wife?
- What!?
- Relax, Ned, alright?
I mean, everyone has been with her.
- Guilty.
- Yeah, you're right.
- [Narrator] And Elijah Jessup's sister.
- Welp, it's time for him to die.
(cocking guns)
- Watch yourself, Jessup.
You best put that gun down
or I'll cut you in half.
(ominous music)
- That music,
it seems kind of ominous, don't it?
- Ominous.
What's that mean?
- You know, like, something
bad's about to happen,
like a needless gunfight.

English: 
- [Narrator] The stage
was set for an awesome
ballet of death.
Blood would be spilled,
but who would be the first?
- Wait a second.
Ballet of death?
What the hell?
I think this voice wants
us to kill each other.
- [Narrator] Meanwhile, the
gunfighter saw his opening
to shoot Tommy dead.
- No, no, no, wait!
That one really is a lie, see?
My hand's nowhere near my gun.
- [Narrator] Okay, you got me.
That one wasn't true.
But this one is.
Yesterday, Tommy Henderson made sweet love
to Bill Jessup's wife.
- No!
You made sweet love to our mama?
- (laughs uncomfortably)
Here's the thing about that.
- Oh, you're dead, Henderson.
- [Narrator] Said Gabriel,
who had recently delivered
a load of cream to the back
porch of his brother's wife.
He did her in the butt.
- What!?
- How could you? Your own brother!
- [Narrator] Yet even as
Bill reacted with disgust,
the irony was not lost on him.
- You know what, I see
where you're goin' with this
and I'm just gonna retract
my disgust right now
if that's possible.

French: 
Le décor était planté
pour un prodigieux ballet de la mort.
Le sang coulerait, mais qui serait...
Attends? "Ballet de la mort"? C'est quoi ça?
Je crois que la voix veut qu'on s'entre-tue.
Le tireur vit qu'il tenait sa chance
de tuer Tommy.
Attends! Ça c'est un mensonge.
Mes mains sont loin de mon pistolet.
Ok, bien joué.
C'était un mensonge.
Mais pas ça: hier, Tommy a fait l'amour
à la femme de Bill Jessup.
Non!
Tu as fait l'amour avec maman?
Alors sur ce point...
Oh, t'es mort, Henderson!
Dit Gabriel qui avait enduit de vaseline
l'anus de sa belle-sœur, récemment.
Il l'avait sodomisée.
Quoi?
Comment as-tu pu?
Même si Bill réagit avec dégoût,
il saisit l'ironie de la chose.
Je vois où tu veux en venir
et je rétracte mon dégoût,
vite, si possible.

French: 
Car il s'est souvent faufilé
dans l'étable de Paul Valentine...
Ok, on va tous bien.
Je crois qu'on devrait passer ça.
... où il a eu un rapport sexuel
avec la brebis préférée de Paul: Martha.
Oh, merde.
Martha, Bill?
Martha?
C'est pour ça que je me gratte!
Vous savez quoi?
Nous allons tous inspirer à fond.
On joue le jeu de la voix.
Il y a eu ici
un nombre surprenant d'infidélités
et la bestialité doit cesser,
et je suis peut-être gay, mais
si on se met à tirer, la voix gagne.
La voix nous a donné une opportunité.
Dans un monde où nos secrets
les plus sombres sont révélés,
nous arrêterons de faire
ces choses honteuses
et accepterons les aspects en nous
qui nous effraient.
Ce pourrait être le début
d'une nouvelle utopie:
une société basée
sur l'équité et la tolérance.
Dans laquelle peu importe
que l'on soit riche ou pauvre...
Ou une femme!
N'exagérons pas,

English: 
- [Narrator] For he had
been regularly sneaking
into Paul Valentine's barn.
- Okay, you know, we're
good, we're good here.
I think we should just move on.
- [Narrator] Where he had been having sex
with Paul's favorite sheep Martha.
- Oh boy.
- Marth, Bill!?
Martha!?
- That is why I've been
so itchy? (cocks gun)
- You know what?
We all just need to
take a deep breath here.
We're playin' right
into the voice's hands.
Sure, there's been a surprising amount
of infidelity in this town,
and the bestiality should probably stop,
and I might be gay.
But if we start shootin', the voice wins.
I think the voice is
givin' us an opportunity.
In a world where our
deepest, darkest secrets
are unveiled one by one,
maybe we'll stop doing the
things we're ashamed of
and start to embrace the
things about ourselves
we're afraid to accept.
Hell, this could be the
beginning of a new utopia,
a society based on fairness and tolerance
where it don't matter
if you're rich or poor--
- Or a woman!

English: 
- Let's not get carried
away, but the point is,
is that the voice is showing
us the worst side of ourselves
and we need to show it our best.
Now, who's with me?
- [All] Yeehaw!
- [Narrator] It was a good speech
and things might have
turned out differently
if the crowd never found
out that the gunfighter
had just last night shot and killed
the youngest son of John McCullers,
because he "had some
breath that smelled like
"the ass end of a Chinaman."
- Well, you must be Mr. McCullers.
(fires gun)
(guns firing)
- [Narrator] It was a
true ballet of death.
When the gruesome bloodbath was over,

French: 
mais le fait est que
la voix nous montre notre pire côté
et nous devons lui montrer le meilleur!
Qui est avec moi?
C'était un bon discours. Les choses
se seraient passées autrement
s'ils n'avaient pas appris
que la veille le tireur avait tué
le fils cadet de John McCullers
parce que:
"Son haleine avait l'odeur
du trou du cul d'un Chinois."
Vous devez être M. McCullers.
Ce fut un vrai ballet de la mort.
Quand l'horrible bain de sang cessa,

English: 
not a single person was left standing,
except for Sally, the itchy whore.
- Yoo!
- [Narrator] Who celebrated
by scratching her front porch.
- [Sally] Whoo!
- [Narrator] Little did she know,
she would be mauled to
death by a rabid wolf
the very next day.
- Well, fuck.
(dramatic orchestral music)

French: 
il n'y en avait plus un seul en vie.
Sauf Sally,
la putain aux démangeaisons.
Et qui fêta cela
en se grattant le bas-ventre.
Elle ignorait qu'elle serait déchiquetée
par un loup féroce le lendemain.
Oh, putain!
L'AS DE LA GÂCHETTE
