This random idea started out in random origins, as you might have expected. If you've ever noticed, Clopin always seems to be infectiously cheerful, given any situation - not counting his annoyance at being interrupted by Phoebus/pretty much anything his puppet says/Esmeralda preventing him from conducting that infamous hanging, or his fear when Frollo talks about the "bonfire", or his upset in the second film over La Fidele being stolen. Yes that sounds like a lot, but he's unquestionably all smiles a lot more. Well, I thought, he may be able to turn that upside-down frown right-side up periodically, but could one ever picture him becoming so emotional about anything that tears may fall from those enthralling eyes? This sentimental pondering lead me to the more comical thought, "What if the other characters were to purposely set out to make him cry?" Although it was initially just a joke stored in my mind, I thought more about it, and in the end I couldn't resist the temptation to see just where this idea could get to if I let it off the leash, and the result was this.

The only sensible way to present this nonsense seemed to be in the format of parody, especially considering 15th century folk would not likely have been conducting science experiments, since the closest things they had to grounded science as we know it were alchemy and philosophy. Since it's a wack-job, even the "scientific" parts are loopy and only semi-realistic if that. This reminds me that I should make note: If the characters' conversation over their project at the beginning of this chapter is a bit confusing, that's just because it's supposed to be, no worries. Also, since this isn't really supposed to tie in to the storyline of HoND itself, and since they're helping with the experiment, everyone knows about the gargoyles - I actually like it better that way, anyway.

Copyright belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.

Introduction:

"The Clopin Trouillefou, scientific name Clopinus trouillefouensis, is a rare, easily distinguishable breed. Some authorities would even argue it is one of a kind. It is a wandering species, but has been known to nest on the streets and in the catacombs of Paris, France.* Its specific diet is uncertain but believed comparable to that of a normal human being's. Its circadian rythym is not entirely certain either, for it has been shown to thrive equally well in a diurnal and a nocturnal lifestyle. It is considered to be a mischievous, playful and elusive creature, generally good-tempered if not a little boisterous when approached on common ground, but is known to be extremely territorial, and may respond violently, mockingly, and craftily to intrusion into its dwelling/s.

The purpose of this experiment is to determine whether it is actually possible to induce the action of crying in C. trouillefouensis. With its hitherto being observed in an almost eternally chipper state of behaviour, this experiment aims to collect evidence which will convey a better scientific understanding of this fascinating creature."

"Alright, so experimental question number one," Phoebus reads aloud, to the others present. "Exactly why do we want to make him cry, again?"

"From what I gather, it's to see whether or not it can be done," Esmeralda replies. She and Phoebus, together with Quasimodo, Madellaine, and the gargoyles, all of whom are in white lab coats, are the "scientists" conducting this experiment.

"Esmeralda, you've known Clopin for years," Quasimodo points out, "wouldn't you know whether or not he'd ever cry about anything?"

Esmeralda shrugs. "He'll fake a tear for fun now and then, but as far as I can remember I've never seen him really break down over anything."

"You writin' all this down, Feeble?" Hugo asks, cleaning out his ear while simultaneously peering over Phoebus's shoulder at the papers.

Phoebus frowns back at the rotund gargoyle. "It just so happens I haven't been able to write anything down for the past several minutes because the pen disappeared." Spying the ear-cleaning tool Hugo is employing, he adds, "I recommend a pick-axe next time, friend," before snatching the pen out of Hugo's hand.

"A pick-axe? Are you kiddin'? If you could see what a pick-axe did to Uncle Julius's face! One of the scariest looking gargoyles you ever saw; now people die laughin' about him in their sleep!"

Rolling his eyes, Phoebus preens the tip of the pen as best as he can, then inks it up again and begins to clear the backlog of data. "Alright, let's see here…"

Problem (as posed in experiment):

"Does Clopinus trouillefouensis possess potential crying capacity?"

Hypothesis:

"Based on prior evidence that the creature is able to shed crocodile tears, it is presumed possible for the creature to genuinely cry under emotionally provoked circumstances."

"What I want to know is," Madellaine comments, "why are we writing about him like he's an animal?"

"I was told it was to sound more scientific," Quasimodo replies.

"But who told you that?"

Quasimodo hesitates for a moment. "The - the - the scientific… leaders I guess."

"You don't even know who told you, Quasi?" All she gets is an awkward shrug. How can they conduct this experiment without knowing whom they're supposed to submit it to? Talk about "Weird Science," or are we entering another film's premises there?

"Moving on," Phoebus calls, glancing up from his paperwork, "exactly how are we going to go about with this? Do we just bring him here, play a melancholy song? Tell him some bad news? Read him a tragic book perhaps?"

"Sounds good to me," Esmeralda agrees, looking over her husband's shoulder with her arms around him. "Write all that down under 'Materials', dear."

Apparatus and materials:

*Violin or other sad sounding instrument

*Tragic story - romance preferable

*Dark confined space - and the materials needed to create one

To be added to as we go.

Procedure:

Quasimodo and Phoebus, together with the gargoyles, are in charge of acquiring Clopin for the experiment. They split into smaller teams and scour the streets of Paris searching for their desired test subject. Quasimodo inquires about him at the Court of Miracles, but is told the gypsy king's been out all day. Phoebus goes a-knocking on Clopin's caravan, to which the window is shut, but receives no reply. Finally the gargoyles locate Clopin, singing to himself while practicing cart-wheeling in the street.

"There he is!" Victor points out.

"Get'im!" Hugo shouts. The two male gargoyles swarm in on Clopin, who comes to a halt in his practice when he realizes he's about to be captured. Standing on his hands, he quickly tumbles himself to the ground, and out of the way just as Victor and Hugo crash head-on into each other. Pulling away and shaking off the stars encircling their heads, they look around and see thirty-or-so laughing gypsies in purple tunics disappear around thirty corners, gradually diminishing down to twenty, ten, five, then one.

"Nice work, you two," Laverne drawls sarcastically. "Makin' him cry'll be a piece of cake the way you're goin' about with it!"

"Hey, it's not our fault he's more slippery than an eel!" Hugo protests.

Said eel-trouncer is now engaged in a balancing act on a rope, still all smiles about his day. He begins to dance on his precarious perch, not even missing a beat when he sees Phoebus nervously edging his way out towards the center of the rope, a Clopin-sized burlap sack with the mouth open, in hand. Wordlessly, Clopin reduces his dance to a simple repeated jump, until the Captain of the guards is about two feet away. Clopin then stops and subtly wraps his feet around the rope, then stands there, staring curiously at the captain.

Phoebus knows enough to tell that Clopin's likely got a trick up his sleeve, but as long as there's a slight chance he can catch him… Just at the same time Phoebus swooshes the open sack towards his quarry, Clopin flashes his teeth in a cheeky grin and collapses to the side till he's upside-down on the rope. He then holds his hands out, pulls his feet apart, and somersaults to the ground, tucking under and rolling away till he slows down to a safe stop.* Poor Phoebus, meanwhile, is startled though he might have expected as much, and takes a less skilful and far less comfortable tumble from the heights of that rope…

"Phoebus, what happened?" Quasimodo, returning from the Court of Miracles, inquires, lifting the captain off the ground.

"Ugh, nothing much; I just found out I need to practice my balancing more," Phoebus groans, rubbing his lower ribcage. "Or maybe avoid it altogether. Did you see where Clopin went?"

"No, sorry," Quasi replies.

The gargoyles are once again chasing the gypsy king down, this time in the market square. Hugo zooms in on his target, who takes refuge behind a cheese stand. Crashing into the stand, Hugo then attempts to find Clopin, but he may as well have turned to dust under the wreckage. Well, never mind the now angry merchant associated with the stand, why waste perfectly good cheese?

While Hugo begins to stuff himself on the results of his blunder, Victor tries a smoother, moderately more tactful approach at capturing Clopin.

"Your majesty? Oh, your highness?… Your gypsy-highness?" Victor struggles to find the proper way to address a king of the gypsies, all the while searching around and under everything in sight.

"You called for me, non?" A high, masculine voice calls from behind the gargoyle. Turning around, Victor sees Clopin standing atop the edge of a vegetable cart, doffing his hat in a grand flourish.

"Oh, yes indeed!" Victor replies, then draws out one of those sacks, open and ready to receive Clopin. "If you'd just be so good as to place yourself in here -"

Clopin rolls his eyes as if to say, "Yeah, sure. I'll definitely comply with that!", then clasps his hands together and dives into the heap of vegetables in the cart, completely disappearing despite the vehicle's relative shallowness. Astonished, Victor nevertheless marches over to the cart and begins to carefully pick his way through the vegetables, calling out for the gypsy king. As it begins to grow quite clear that there's not a sign of him in the cart anymore, Victor begins to throw caution to the wind and starts tossing the vegetables out of the cart and behind him, one by one. When he reaches the point where most of the wooden base can be seen, he hears Clopin admonish him amiably from behind.

"Tsk, tsk, mon ami," Clopin saunters airily around to the opposite side of the cart. "You ought to know that the farmer has a wife and seven children to support!" So saying he tips his vegetable-stuffed hat right-side-up over the cart, and somehow all of the tossed vegetables, completely undamaged, return safely to their post. Clopin then winks at Victor, returns his hat to his head, and pulls it down tight - taking his entire presence with it. Is there no way to catch this trickster?

Laverne lies in wait behind another cart, till she sees a flash of purple scampering by. With a snap of her fingers she sics her birds on Clopin. Catching wind of this uprise, he is not the slightest bit daunted. He merely seats himself on a bench, legs neatly crossed, and begins to sing a harmonic tune. Softly reaching his arms out, he allows the birds to gather around him and join in his song, some perching on the posts he has offered, some nestling into his lap, some seating themselves beside him on either side, and others fluttering around above him in circles, carrying blossoms in their beaks.

Dumbfounded, Laverne just stares at this picturesque but unpredicted sight. "Well I'll be," she muses. "If he doesn't get nominated as the twelfth Disney Princess, my horns are made out of emeralds!"

"Hey, nice work, Laverne!" Hugo comes up and jars the older gargoyle's back, to her disgruntlement.

"Yes, outstanding!" Victor concurs. "With the king of the gypsies preoccupied by this diversion, it should prove a cinch to seize him now!"

"Instead of yappin' about it, why don't you two go get him?" Laverne snappishly points out.

"Oh! Right!" they exclaim, each smacking their own foreheads. For the umpteenth time they advance on Clopin, trying to be as stealthful as they can be (bearing in mind they have to hop to get around), but naturally he sees them coming, and after gently whispering a few hushed notions to his new pals, he is soon hoisted into the air and carried away from the gargoyle's reach.

Frustrated, Hugo complains, "Aw, man! How does he manage to get everything on his side like that?"

"Guys? What's going on?" Quasimodo, still helping Phoebus get around, comes up to them. "Have you got Clopin yet?"

"Nah, these buffoons couldn't even catch the fellow's puppet if he left it in the middle of the street for them!" Laverne criticizes, while Victor hangs his head in shame and Hugo frowns.

"You know what?" Quasimodo glances at all other four search team members, "has anyone thought of just asking him to come along with us?" From the surprised, pondering glances he gets from his friends, flesh and stone alike, he has to assume the answer is "no." Sighing, he places Phoebus down gently and says, "Wait here."

Quasi walks up to a house, on the roof of which Clopin is now sitting, feeding the birds some seed out of his black-gloved hands and the rim of his hat. "Clopin! Hello, Clopin!" he calls, waving a hand to attract the gypsy king's attention.

Glancing down upon hearing his name called, Clopin grins. "Ah, Quasimodo, mon ami! What a pleasant surprise!"

"Thanks," Quasi calls back, then asks, "um, listen, Clopin? We need your help with something. Could you come down and join us, please?" He can only hope the ever-curious gypsy king won't raise questions about what he's needed to help with until they get there.

Luck must be liking Quasi at the moment. "But of course!" Clopin volunteers, and leaps down from the roof, having finished feeding Laverne's birds. Linking arms with the hunchback, Clopin strolls off with him in the direction of Phoebus and the gargoyles, blithely remarking, "You know, Quasimodo, the captain and the gargoyles have been most helpful to me, today! I could not tell you the last time I had so much fun during a workout!"

Much exasperated groaning ensues once word gets out among the little group that that's what Clopin got out of their misadventures that day, but they are all still relieved that Quasi finally "caught" him. Although Clopin continues to sprint and dart about playfully, no one worries that he's going to run off; Clopin is always more than willing to lend a hand to a friend in need, at least when he's in the mood to do so…* It is perhaps one of the most comforting of his personality traits.

Carrying Phoebus over his shoulder, Quasi comments, "So, don't you have to write all this down, Phoebus?"

"Yes, yes, I'm on it," the captain grumbles, understandably miffed at the way things have played out at this stage in the experiment, especially on his part. Drawing out his pen and the data sheets he begins to scribble down:

"Important to note, before proceeding any further: Any attempt to recreate this experiment should not be performed without a well-certified update of your will!"

AN: I have all the chapters to this idea composed already, but it's more fun to post a little here, then post a little there, and so forth. Such things are not to be rushed, they are to be savoured! XD Ahem, and as for those notes I've indicated throughout the text:

1. "Wandering" because he's a gypsy, and the "nest" part refers to his caravan and to the Court of Miracles, of course.

2. Perhaps a shout of "MEEP, MEEP!" ought to have been inserted in there somewhere… but that might have gone a yard or so over the top.

3. Yep, that sentence is in fact oxymoronic on purpose!