Part 1
Latin Voices: Whoo OOOO hooo (dum) Whooo OOOOO (dum) Whooo OOOO oooo OOOO ooooo OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Waaahhhoooohhoooo! (dum) Waaahhhoooohhoooo! (dum) Waaahooooohhoooo HOOOOO OOOO WAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH………
Michael Eisner: Yeah I don't think we have the budget to continue this long note. Just cut it off here.
Latin Voice 1: Aww come on man!
Latin Voice 2: You really suck.
Latin Voice 3: DOWN WITH GLOBAL WARMING!
(awkward silence)
Latin Voice 3: …and other stuff, too.
(later on)
Clopin: Morning in Paris, the city awakes to the bells of Notre Dame!
The Fisherman fishes
(fisherman hits fish with a long carrot)
The Bakerman bakes!
(Sweeney Todd shoves person into oven)
Sweeney Todd: You didn't see nothing!
Clopin: To the bells of Notre Dame!
To the big bells as loud as the thunder
(guy waves aluminum plates in the background)
Clopin: (raises his eyebrow) To the little bells soft as a psalm.
(guy sings high-pitched song in the background)
Clopin: And some say the soul of the city's the toll of the bells
The Bells of Notre Dame!
(turns to children watching the puppet show)
Listen, they're beautiful, no?
Fat Kid: No. They're not.
Clopin: So many colours of sounds, so many changing moods.
Fat Kid: Not really.
Clopin: Because, you know, they don't ring all by themselves.
Fat Kid: No duh captain obvious.
(Clopin moves puppet) Puppet: They don't?
Fat Kid: I can see your lips moving.
Clopin: No, silly boy. Up there, high, high in the dark bell tower, lives the mysterious bell ringer. Who is this creature?
Fat Kid: Don't care.
Clopin: What is he?
Fat Kid: Probably just the guy hired to ring the bells. No big deal.
Clopin: How did he come to be there?
Fat Kid: I dunno, maybe he drives his car there every morning to get to his REAL job, you know, instead of playing with puppets all the time.
Clopin: You know, I am just about tired of this!!! (whacks kid in the head with piano. Looks around at horrified children.) Umm, don't worry my children! Clopin will tell you. It is the tale of a man, and a monster…
Fat Kid: (with dented head) Ptsh yeah right how cliché can you get?
(scene morphs into a flashback)
Fat Kid: What the hell? Where are we?
Clopin: Shut up! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! (slaps kid until his head pops off) Ahh, finally some peace and quiet.
Fat Kid's Severed Head: And what kind of real man wears tights? Honestly, you are pathetic. And who talks to puppets? Creeeeepy.
Clopin: (ignores fat kid) Dark was the night when our tale was begun on the docks near Notre Dame.
Gypsy 1: Shut it up, will you!
Gypsy 2: We'll be spotted!
Quasi's Mom: Hush, little one!
Clopin: Four frightened gypsies slid silently under the docks, near Notre Dame.
Boatman: Four gilders for safe passage into Paris.
Gypsy 1: Eww! What's on your face!
Boatman: What?
Gypsy 1: That thing right there! Eww, is it moving! It's hideous! Ack! (throws up all over Clopin's shoes)
Clopin: Yo, bitch! I got those on so you better watch your ass!
(everyone stares at Clopin)
Clopin: Sorry. My ghetto came out. (everyone still stares at him) Oh yeaaahhh…I'm not supposed to be here, am I?
Everyone: No.
Clopin: (sneeks behind tree) I'll just be hiding here, then.
Boatman: Whatever, now what was that on my face?
(thunder strikes. Scary music plays)
Boatman: Holy crap, it's Frollo!
Quasi's Mom: How do you know?
Boatman: Well duuhhh! When thunder strikes and scary music plays, who do you expect it to be? Bill Donahue?
Quasi's mom: Kind of…
Frollo: Bring these gypsy vermin to the Palace of Justice.
Gypsy 2: Vermin?? Have you looked in the mirror lately, cause you ain't no Tom Cruise yourself, hon!
Guard: (To Debbie) You there! What are you hiding!?!
Frollo: Stolen goods, no doubt. Take them from her.
Quasi's Mom: Ohhhhh shiiiiiiit.
Clopin: She ran!
(cue big chase scene. Quasi's Momruns up to church)
Quasi's Mom: Sanctuary please give us Sanctuary!
(Frollo runs over to her on snowball and throws her on the stairs. She dies)
Frollo: (stares down at unconscious woman) Looks like it's my lucky day! (evil grin) Time for a little fun (about to rip off quasi's mom's dress)
Director: Ahem.
Frollo: Oh, right. (grabs baby) I'ma throw you down the well, son.
Archdeacon: Stop!
Clopin: Cried the Archdeacon!
Frollo: This is an unholy demon. I'm sending it back to hell, where it belongs!
Archdeacon: See there the innocent blood you have split on the steps of Notre Dame.
Frollo: Innocent? Dude, I screwed her like, five times back in Vegas.
Archdeacon: Now you will add this child's blood to your guilt on the steps of Notre Dame.
Frollo: My conscience is clear!
Archdeacon: You can lie to yourself and your minions. You can claim that you haven't a qualm!
Frollo: (tunes out Archdeacon's useless babbling) Qualm? What's a qualm. Wait a sec. (pulls out laptop. Types in Qualm, qualm, where are you? Ahh, here we go "An uneasy feeling or pang of conscience as to conduct; compunction: He has no qualms about lying." Yeah, I ain't got a lot of those. What were you saying?
Archdeacon: But you never can run from or nor hide what you've done from the eyes! (points to scary statue) The eyes of Notre Dame!
Clopin: And for one time in his life, of power and control. Frollo felt a twinge of fear for his immortal soul.
Frollo: What must I do?
Archdeacon: Care for the child, raise it as your own.
Frollo: …crap.
(He pauses as a thought creeps across his face.)
Frollo: Very well. Let him live with you, in your church.
Archdeacon: Live here? But where?
Frollo: Up my ass and around the corner. (sings) Just so he's kept locked away where no one else can see! Even this foul creature may yet prove one day to be, of use to me!
(back in the present) Clopin: And Frollo gave the
child a cruel name. A name that
means 'half-formed.'
Quasimodo!
Now here is a riddle to guess if you can sing the bells of Notre Dame!
Who is the monster and who is the maaannn!
Sing the bells bells bells bells bells bells bells bells BELLS OF NOOOOTREEE DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMEMEMEEMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (heads explodes)
Part 2(Quasi jumps out down from the bell tower and lands at the balcony. Trademark scene where he turns around and you see his face)
Fat Kid: I'd totally do that guy.
Quasi: (turns to bird) Good morning!
Bird: (pause) Fck off! Who the hell are you?
Quasi: Will today be the day? Are you ready to fly?
Bird: Hell no! What the fck are you talking about? Do I look like I'm ready to fcking fly I mean seriously, I'm a freaking Dodo for god's sake! Ya know? The Canadian FLIGHTLESS bird which might've already been extinct by now, but theatreChick isn't really sure about that and doesn't feel like checking wikipedia right now, so she's just gonna go with whatever the hell so fck off.
Quasi: You sure? Good day to try.
Bird: Idiot were you not just listening to my rant?
Quasi: Why, if I picked a day to fly, oh, this would be it!
Bird: Fat people don't go that high. Just a friendly tip.
Quasi: The Festival of Fools!
Bird: Oh in that case, you'd fit right in! Go ahead and jump off the balcony. I ain't stopping you. I'm only two inches high.
Quasi: It will be fun--the jugglers, and music, and dancing...
Bird: Gay. (Quasi picks up bird) Wait, what the hell are you doing??? (panics. Quasi puts him over the edge) Oh god, OH GOD!!!!HOLY CRAP!!! LET ME DOWN!!!! PLLEEAAASEEE!!!!! (spazzes out and twitches and contorts) LEMME GO LEMME GO LEMME GO!!!!!
Quasi: Go on! Nobody wants to be cooped up here forever!
Bird: YES I DO!!! LET ME DOWN!!! (Quasi drops him) NOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOO BIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTCCCCCHHHHHH…..(splat)
Quasi: Aw, what a beautiful sight!
Squashed Bird: (from thousands of feet below) One word. Karma.
Hugo: (turns into a live statue and spits out feathers) Oh, man! I thought he'd never leave! I'll be spittin' feathers for a week!
Victor: Well that's what you get for sleeping with your mouth open!
Hugo: (Sarcastic chuckle) Heh, heh, heh...go scare a nun! Hey, Quasi! What's goin' on out there? A fight? A flogging?
Victor: A free session of interpretive dance?
(everyone stares)
Victor: (pause) I mean, a free session of karate, or wrestling…or another manly activity? (nervous laugh) Wait I have a line here (pulls out script and flips through) Oh ok here we go! "A festival?"
Hugo: You mean the Feast of Fools!?!
Quasimodo: Uh huh!
Hugo: All right, all right! Pour the wine and cut the cheese!
Victor: It is a treat to watch the colorful pageantry of the simple peasantfolk.
Hugo: Boy, nothin' like balcony seats for watching the ol' F.O.F.
Quasimodo: (Dejected) Yeah, watching.
Hugo: Hey, look--a mime.
Victor: IS HE IN A SPANDEX SUIT????
Hugo: Uhh, yeah probably. I can't really tell from up here.
(Quasi walks away sad)
Hugo: Hey, hey, what gives?
Victor: Aren't you going to watch the mimes, I mean festival with us?
Hugo: I don't get it.
Victor: Perhaps he's sick!
Laverne: Impossible. If 20 years of listening to you two hasn't made him sick by now, nothing will.
Victor: But watching the Festival of Fools has always been the highlight of the year for Quasimodo!
Laverne: What good is watching the party if you never get to go hear it? He's not made of stone, like us.
(Laverne goes to Quasi, who is at his table with a model of the city and small toys painted like townspeople. One of them looks suspiciously like Heath Ledger)
Victor: (whistles and picks up doll) Um that would be mine. (runs off into room and slams door shut)
Laverne: Quasi, what's wrong? You wanna tell ol' Laverne all about it?
Quasimodo: I...I just don't feel like watching the festival, that's all.
Laverne: Well, did you ever think about going there instead?
Quasimodo: I'd never fit in down there. I'm not...normal.
Laverne: Of course you are! You're perfectly normal! Lots of people have red hair…and I'm sure there are people who've got hunchbacks. It's just a little different. I see freaks like that at 7 11 all the time! I mean, slightly different than average people, not freaks.
Quasi: (breaks down crying)
Laverne: Nah nah nah, I'm just playing with you. And at least everyone's, umm, right eye is slightly larger than their left……and plastic surgery can give you a chin….and who cares if your arms are completely disproportionate to the rest of your body! And who cares if your hideous appearance has somehow altered your sense of fashion (stares at ugly brown tights) altered your sense of fashion, completely. Right?
Quasi: (prepares to slit wrists in bathtub with dark eyeshadow on)
Laverne: Oh, Quasi, Quasi,
Quasi. (She pauses as the birds have returned to perch on her again.)
(To birds:) Do you mind? I'm would like to have a moment with the
boy, if it's
all right with you!
Hugo: (To Quasi:) Hey, quit beating around the bell tower. Whadda we gotta do? Paint you a fresco?
Victor: (runs out of bedroom)As your friends and guardians, we insist you attend the festival.
Quasimodo: Me?!?
Hugo: (picks up Pope figurine) No, the Pope. Of course, you!
(Victor shoves the Pope figurine in Quasi's mouth. Hugo pulls the figurine out of Quasi's mouth.)
Hugo: Wine, women and song!
Victor: You can learn to identify various regional cheeses!
Hugo: Bobbing for snails!
Victor: And the indigenous folk music.
Hugo: Playing dunk the monk!
Laverne: Quasi, take it from an old spectator. Life's not a spectator sport. If watchin's all you're gonna do, then you're gonna watch your life go by without you.
Hugo: Yeah, you're human, with the flesh, and the hair, and the navel lint.
Victor: And the STDS!
Hugo: We're just part of the architecture, right Victor?
Victor: Yet, if you chip us, will we not flake? If you moisten us, do we not grow moist?
Laverne: Quasi, just grab a fresh tunic and a clean pair of hose and--
Quasimodo: Thanks for the encouragement, NOT. You're all freaking idiots. (points to Hugo)You're stupid!
Hugo: Hey!
Quasi: You're old!
Laverne: Yeah. That's true.
Quasi: And you're just really frightening!
Victor: Yes that's rather true. I'll agree with you on that.
Frollo: (walks in) Good morning, Quasimodo.
Victor: Just in time…(turns into stone with other gargoyles)
Quasimodo: Ah--um, good...morning, master.
Frollo: Dear boy, whomever are you talking to?
Quasimodo: My...friends.
Frollo: I see. (He taps Hugo on the head.) And what are your friends made of, Quasimodo?
Quasimodo: Churches. No lead lead! Very small rocks!
Frollo: Ahem.
Quasi: Uhh, stone?
Frollo: Can stone talk?
Quasimodo: Is this a trick question?
Frollo: NO IT'S NOT, DAMNIT! (calms down) That's right. You're a smart lad. Now...lunch.
(Upon hearing the word, Quasi goes off and retrieves a table setting--a silver chalice titled "Da Pimpin King" and plate for Frollo and a wooden cup titled "Da Lyin Ho" and plate for himself.)
Frollo: Shall we review your alphabet today?
Quasimodo: Yes, master. I would like that very much.
Frollo: Very well. A?
Quasimodo: Abomination?
Frollo: B?
Quasimodo: Blasphemy?
Frollo: C?
Quasimodo: C-c-c-contrition!
Frollo: D?
Quasimodo: Damnation.
Frollo: E?
Quasimodo: Eternal damnation!
Frollo: Good. F?
Quasimodo: Penis.
(Frollo spits out his drink at the incorrect response.)
Frollo: Excuse me?
Quasimodo: Uhh, uhh…PENIS!
Frollo: You said...penis
Quasimodo: No!
Frollo: So then that can only refer to one thing! You were thinking about going to the Festival
Quasimodo: …and you got that reference, why?
Frollo: I am a public official. I must go! But I don't enjoy a moment. Thieves and hustlers and the dregs of humankind, all mixed together in a shallow, drunken stupor.
Quasimodo: Those are a lot of big words, and you must understand that I only have a third grade vocabulary.
Frollo: Quasimodo, can't you understand? When your heartless mother abandoned you as a child, anyone else would have drowned you. And this my thanks for taking you in and raising you as my son?
Quasimodo: I'm sorry, sir.
Frollo: Oh, my dear Quasimodo, you don't know what it's like
out
there. I do...I do...
The world is cruel
The world
is wicked
It's I alone whom you can trust in this whole city
I am your only friend
I who keep you teach you feed you
dress you
I who look upon you without fear
How can I protect
you, boy
Unless you always stay in here
Away in here?
You are deformed
Quasimodo: You are deformed
Frollo: (surprised) And you are ugly
Quasimodo: And you are ugly
Frollo: (taken aback) umm, And these are crimes for which the world shows little pity. You do not compreehnd
(blah rest of song blah)
(Frollo goes to leave.)
Quasimodo: You are good to me, master. I will not disobey you again.
Frollo: You are forgiven. But, remember, Quasimodo: this is your sanctuary. And by the way, forrest green is not your color.
Quasi: (hurt) What?
Frollo: (sissy voice) That shirt is completely unflattering to your body-type. Try wearing pastels, it'll be better for your complexion. And who tailored those tights? Jesus, you better go catch them because they're RUNNING ALL OVER THE PLACE! And the shoes, I'm sorry, they just don't work. (runs down the stairs) HAHAHHAHAHHAHA (falls down stairs) ouch ow oww ouch ouch owww!! (rolls out Notre Dame) OH GOD OUCH OW OW OWOW OUCH!! (rolls into wall) AAAAHHH! (smash)
Quasimodo: Sanctuary.
(cue "Out There") yeah blah blah BLAH!)
(Next Scene. Phoebus is walking down the street with Achilles. Reads map: It's a Cardboard cut-out "Candy Land" gameboard)
Phoebus: You leave town for a couple of decades, and they change everything.