by Marjolaine Tremblay 


Date: February 6th

Time: 13:54

Location: Clark x St. Urbain

*translated from messy Montreal franglais* 

Tremblay: Hey there!

Guy: What?

Tremblay: Hi. I just wanted to say hello.

Guy: What? What’s wrong?

Tremblay: No, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to say hello. Are you alright?

Guy: Huh? *unintelligible grumbles and groans*

Tremblay: I didn’t mean to bother you, I just noticed your tarp and was wondering if you’re alright. This isn’t really a place where people normally sit.

Guy: *slightly louder unintelligible grumbles and groans*

Tremblay: I didn’t mean to bother you. I just wanted to ask you a few questions.

Guy: Who are you? I don’t know you.

Tremblay: I’m Marjolaine. I just wanted to talk.

Guy: You’re a cop.

Tremblay: No… I am not… Why do you say that? Why would I be a cop?

Guy: You look like a cop.

Tremblay: What do cops look like? 

Guy: I don’t even care if you are anyway. Shit. I didn’t even do anything. Did they send you?

Tremblay: Who’s “they”?

Guy: The people at the church. Those whores! Ahahaha. Funny, right? Hypocrites! Saints to my dick. They don’t even tell the truth about themselves.

Tremblay: Sorry, what? Is the church a shelter?

Guy: I know you know them. You are them. Chalice!

Tremblay: I’m not them. I’m not a cop, and I don’t work for the church. I would have a gun and uniform if I were a cop, right? And you would probably have seen me before if I worked at this church you’re talking about.

Guy: Why don’t I call the cops and ask them?

Tremblay: Ummm… go ahead.

Guy: I don’t have a phone.

Tremblay: Do you really want to call the police?

Guy: No… They would probably just try to fuck with me anyway… Like you’re doing. 

Tremblay: I’m not here to fuck with you, I just wanted to see if you were alright. It’s winter.

I mean…

Do you have anything to eat?

Guy: *moves tarp to reveal a half-eaten container of Timbits*

Tremblay: That isn’t very substantial… Is this your lunch?

Guy: No, I’m actually using them to wipe my ass. No, obviously it’s my lunch. What are you, my fucking mom? Yes, ahah, clearly, it’s lunch.

Tremblay: I’m sorry. How often do you eat Timbits?

Guy: Most days. They’re actually very cheap, and sometimes the people give you extra if you ask them to.

Tremblay: Which ones are your favourite?

Guy: *grabs a chocolate-glazed Timbit and presents it*

Tremblay: Oh, no, thank you. I can’t.

Guy: These ones are really good.

Tremblay: I’m a celiac.

Guy: What?

Tremblay: It means I can’t eat gluten. It means I can’t eat Timbits. But I believe you that they’re good.

Guy: Ahh, a diet.

Tremblay: Well, the condition changes your diet, but it isn’t really the same thing as dieting.

Guy: You’re skinny already. You shouldn’t diet. Actually, you could maybe even gain weight.

Tremblay: I’m wearing a down-filled parka…

Guy: Yes, but I can tell.

Tremblay: Do you have anywhere else that you get food from?

Guy: The church sometimes.

Tremblay: On Av du Parc?

Guy: Yeah, but they are difficult, and it takes too long. Also I go to the other Tim Hortons sometimes.

They have other stuff besides Timbits.

Tremblay: True. Well if you’re getting dinner later, maybe this will help *gives guy $10 bill*

Guy: Ahh, it will, it will. Thank you. This is good. You are good.

Tremblay: You’re welcome. It isn’t a big deal. Maybe get your Tims to stay… It’s too cold out here…

Guy: It really isn’t that bad. It’s actually warm, I think.

Also there are a bunch of weird homeless people in the Tims, so it’s better to eat outside.