After Quasimodo's death, the Bishop of the Cathedral of Notre Dame sent

word through the streets of Paris that a new bell ringer was needed.

 

The Bishop decided that he would conduct the interviews personally and

went up into the belfry to begin the screening process. After observing

several applicants demonstrate their skills, he had decided to call it

a day.

 

Just then, an armless man approached him and announced that he was there

to apply for the bell ringer's job. The Bishop was incredulous.

 

"You have no arms!"

 

"No matter," said the man. "Observe!" And he began striking the bells

with his face, producing a beautiful melody on the carillon.

 

The Bishop listened in astonishment; convinced he had finally found a

replacement for Quasimodo.

 

But suddenly, rushing forward to strike a bell, the armless man tripped

and plunged headlong out of the belfry window to his death in the street

below.

 

The stunned Bishop rushed to his side. When he reached the street, a

crowd had gathered around the fallen figure, drawn by the beautiful

music they had heard only moments before.

 

As they silently parted to let the Bishop through, one of them asked:

"Bishop, who was this man?"

 

"I don't know his name," the bishop sadly replied, "I don't know his

name..."

 

 

 

(scroll down)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(...Ready?)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"but his face sure rings a bell!"

 

 

WAIT! WAIT! There's more ...(DON'T DELETE YET!)

 

 

The following day, despite the sadness that weighed heavily on his heart

due to the unfortunate death of the armless campanologist, the Bishop

continued his interviews for the bell ringer of Notre Dame.

 

The first man to approach him said, "Your Excellency, I am the brother

of the poor armless wretch that fell to his death from this very belfry

yesterday. I pray that you honor his life by allowing me to replace him

in this duty."

 

The Bishop agreed to give the man an audition, and, as the armless man's

brother stooped to pick up a mallet to strike the first bell, he moaned,

clutched at his chest, twirled around, and died on the spot.

 

The monks, hearing the Bishop's cries of grief at this second tragedy,

rushed up the stairs to his side.

 

"What has happened? Who is this man?" the first monk asked breathlessly.

 

"I don't know his name," sighed the distraught Bishop, "but..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(...Wait for it ...)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(...It's worth it ...)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(...Here it comes ...)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"He's a dead ringer for his brother."

 

 

 

 

 

:dance: :dance: :dance: :dance: :dance: :dance: :dance: :dance:

Fvkin pmsl :rofl: :rofl: :rofl: :rofl: :rofl: :rofl:

 

Dave

:D :D :D :D :dance: