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After Quasimodo the hunchback bell ringer of Notre Dame dies,
the bishop conducts interviews for a new campanologist. However,
only one armless man shows up. "I’m Quasimodo's brother.
I'm here to apply for the bell ringer job."
"But you have no arms!" the bishop blurts out.
"How can you?"
"All in my family have this talent. I ring the bells
with my face," says the man.
At that the man steps back, runs headlong into the carillon
slamming his face into the giant bell. Miraculously the bell
produces a perfect ring.
"Lord in Heaven be praised!" The bishop exclaims
at the possibility he's found a replacement for Quasimodo
and says, "My son, can you do that all day long?"
The armless man sticks out his chest and says, "Just
you watch me, padre!"
With that, the armless man steps back even further and rushes
forward to strike a bell. However, the armless man trips and
plunges headlong out of the belfry, falling to his death in
the street below.
The stunned bishop rushes to his side where a crowd has gathered
about the lifeless body. As the bishop prays over the man,
a voice from the crowd emerges and asks, "Bishop, who
is this man?"
"I don't know his name," the bishop sadly replies,
"but his face rings a bell."
But the story continues...
The following day, despite the sadness that weighed heavily
on his heart due to the unfortunate death of the armless campanologist,
the bishop continues interviews for a new bell ringer at Notre
Dame.
A man looking exactly like the departed bell ringer walks
in. "Excellency," begins the man, "I am the
twin of the poor armless wretch who 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 agrees to give the man an audition, but as the
twin brother stoops to pick up a mallet to strike the very
first bell, he groans, clutches his chest and dies on the
spot.
A monk, hearing the bishop's cries of grief at this second
tragedy, rushes up the stairs to his side.
"What has happened? Who is this man?" the monk
asks.
"I don't know his name," sighs the bishop, "but
he's a dead ringer for his brother."
Of course, if they'd had phones in those days, the bishop
could've given the third brother a ring
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