With a soft moan, Clopin rolled over. No one complained. No one kicked him. He actually had room to move!
"Where the hell am I?"
"Mmmh."
It took Clopin a moment to recollect the events of the past day. He was, at present, still in his 'hammock' in the Palace of Justice. Croissant, it seemed, had curled into a tight ball in his sleep, and lay in the space between Clopin's head and shoulder. The Gypsy gave him a soft poke on the arm.
"Hey kid? Croissant? When do you guys get up?"
"NOW! We get up now!" said a cheery voice. Not Croissant's, but a female's.
Two shiny, dark eyes met Clopin's. "So, kid, what's your face?"
"My-y-y face is pale! But yours isn't, 'cause yo-o-ou're a Gypsy!" The girl's grin became wider. Clopin stared.
"No, I mean, what is your name? I'll have to do this with each one of you, huh?"
"My-y-y name is Sesame Biscuit! What's yours? Huh, Gypsy? Huh, huh?"
"I'm Clopin. Tell me, are all of you named after foods?"
Sesame Biscuit tugged at Clopin's sleeve. "Nope! Now come on, Gypsy! Come on!"
"My NAME is Clopin." Said Clopin with a sigh.
She turned around with yet another grin. "Dad says Gypsies don't deserve to be called by names!"
"Oh," Clopin was beginning to get a bit annoyed. "Then why'd you ask me what it was?"
Sesame Biscuit shrugged and ran off, tugging at Clopin again before she did. Though he had not noticed this in the dark, Clopin saw now, clearly, that the wall opposite his was lined with what appeared to be a never- ending line of tiny, gray lined beds. Most of the little Frollo-esque kids where already milling about like one big, gray-black anthill.
Recalling what Frollo senior had done the day before, Clopin clapped three times. There were many gasps and whimpers, and a long, shaky line was formed. A wave of bows, or, in the case of the females, curtsies greeted Clopin.
"You'd bow to a Gypsy?" Clopin asked, laughing. The children quickly straightened out, and one gave a terrified squeal.
"What kinda twisted upbringing did you have?" He answered his own question immediately. To Frollo, they were nothing more then small, finely-shaped Quasimodos, for he clearly treated them as such. He must have kept his offspring in fear every waking minute. . .
"So how 'bout it? Let's have your names!"
Confused mutters.
"Oh, come on, I won't hurt you, just tell me your names." It was like the time Djali had gotten lodged in the back window of his wagon, and he and Esmeralda had to stand and coax him for a day and a half before the goat squeezed out.
The first Frollo in line spoke. "I'm. . .I'm- um- Jules." The other children became slightly more confident as nothing negative happened.
"Luis"
"Luisa"
"Philippe"
"Hannibal"
"Joanne"
"Michelle"
"Fred"
"George"
"Merry"
"Pippin"
"Jacques"
"Victor"
"Hugo"
"Margot"
"Pierre"
"Isaac"
". . ."
"That's Tak." Said Isaac, pointing to the wailed girl how had not spoken. "She's 'depressed'."
"Leon"
"Roland"
"Nirrissa"
"Agnes"
"Claire"
"Helene"
"Gilles"
"Marc"
"Paul"
"Jean-Pierre"
"Marie-Elise"
"Claude II" a small, pale girl. Clopin stared. "It's transsexual, OK?"
"Pin"
"Pen"
"Strawberry"
"Bell"
"Candle"
"Croissant" said Croissant, who, apparently, had been sitting on Clopin's shoulder.
"Olives"
"Frolic"
"Staples"
"Tin"
"Coal"
"Collie"
"Kettle"
"Mound"
"Purple"
"Grapes"
"Wine"
"Sparrow"
"Blob"
"Erg"
"Hot-Dog"
"Tape"
"Cattle"
"Cheese"
"Cake"
"Cheese-Cake"
"Cake-Cheese"
"Hat"
"Picture"
"Knob"
"Feather"
"Chair"
"Shoe"
"Lumber"
"Phoebus"
"Frodo"
"Sesame Biscuit"
"Cider"
"Tart"
"Sheep-Staples"
"Picture-Blob"
"Kettle-Cake"
"Funnel-Cake"
"Cabbage-Cake" ("Triplets," explained Sesame Biscuit.)
"Trunkles"
"Ant"
"Moose"
"Sheep-Tart"
"Smell"
"Purr" "Large"
"Shiny"
"Help"
"Fishnet"
"Illegal"
"Thing 1"
"Thing 2"
"Feet"
"Rabid"
"Ferrets"
"I'm"
"Running"
"Out"
"Of"
"Names"
"Oh"
"Bloody"
"Bother"
Clopin heaved a sigh. Thank the sweet mother of God there weren't any more!
"Um. . .And I'm Clopin Trouillefou."
98 voices answered: "Hello Gypsy!"
"Do you do EVERYTHING together?
"YES." All the children said, at once.
"Well, said Clopin, "have you thought of being original for a change?" He surveyed the line of kids, who stared at him blankly. Stopping in front of a boy, Clopin tapped him on the shoulder and asked: "What can you do that's special?"
"I dunno." Said the kid, "But I can do everything better than him!" He pointed to another Frollo.
"Can not!"
"Can too!"
"Can not!"
One jumped on the other, and a little wrestling match ensued. Clopin, pulling the two apart, shrugged and addressed the general body of Frollos again.
"So! See, those two can wrestle, yes."
"If Dad commanded us to, we all could do that." Said a voice.
Tak, for the first time had spoken. Her voice was cool, if slightly annoyed. Clopin smiled. Turning to her, he knelt down and looked into her gloomy, brooding eyes. "And you, can you do something?"
"I can. . . . die."
"Ok," said Clopin, getting up, "bad example. Ah! How about you?" He pointed to Sesame Biscuit. "I know you've got a knack at introductions, but I'm certain you've got some wonderful talent!
"I. . ." she began, smiling, "I can dance."
All the Frollos, excluding Tak, looked at her in horror. "What's up?" asked Clopin.
"Dancing is witchcraft!" Croissant whispered in his ear. The others muttered in agreement.
"What?" yelled Clopin, "What cracked up idiot told you something like-"
All the Frollos exchanged confused looks. Clopin slapped his forehead. Of course, he forgot whom he was dealing with. It was just that the little guys acted nothing like their parent. Surely they could be like all kids, with a bit of help. . .
"Oh, sorry. Now, come here guys, I'm not all bad! Come on!"
Nirrissa crept forward, and, hearing encouragement from the rest, went up and rang one of Clopin's bells. There was much excited muttering.
"See? Nothing wrong!" Clopin smiled, but his smile faded within seconds. The kids had all begun advancing, advancing at an uncomfortably fast rate. Almost like a human tidal wave. . .
"Kids. . .Stop! STOP! STO-O-OP!!! OH GOOD GOD!!!"
()()()()()()()()
Ooooh. I'm bored again. So I look up French names and stuff. YYAAAWWWN!
Please review! I know you love me!
"Where the hell am I?"
"Mmmh."
It took Clopin a moment to recollect the events of the past day. He was, at present, still in his 'hammock' in the Palace of Justice. Croissant, it seemed, had curled into a tight ball in his sleep, and lay in the space between Clopin's head and shoulder. The Gypsy gave him a soft poke on the arm.
"Hey kid? Croissant? When do you guys get up?"
"NOW! We get up now!" said a cheery voice. Not Croissant's, but a female's.
Two shiny, dark eyes met Clopin's. "So, kid, what's your face?"
"My-y-y face is pale! But yours isn't, 'cause yo-o-ou're a Gypsy!" The girl's grin became wider. Clopin stared.
"No, I mean, what is your name? I'll have to do this with each one of you, huh?"
"My-y-y name is Sesame Biscuit! What's yours? Huh, Gypsy? Huh, huh?"
"I'm Clopin. Tell me, are all of you named after foods?"
Sesame Biscuit tugged at Clopin's sleeve. "Nope! Now come on, Gypsy! Come on!"
"My NAME is Clopin." Said Clopin with a sigh.
She turned around with yet another grin. "Dad says Gypsies don't deserve to be called by names!"
"Oh," Clopin was beginning to get a bit annoyed. "Then why'd you ask me what it was?"
Sesame Biscuit shrugged and ran off, tugging at Clopin again before she did. Though he had not noticed this in the dark, Clopin saw now, clearly, that the wall opposite his was lined with what appeared to be a never- ending line of tiny, gray lined beds. Most of the little Frollo-esque kids where already milling about like one big, gray-black anthill.
Recalling what Frollo senior had done the day before, Clopin clapped three times. There were many gasps and whimpers, and a long, shaky line was formed. A wave of bows, or, in the case of the females, curtsies greeted Clopin.
"You'd bow to a Gypsy?" Clopin asked, laughing. The children quickly straightened out, and one gave a terrified squeal.
"What kinda twisted upbringing did you have?" He answered his own question immediately. To Frollo, they were nothing more then small, finely-shaped Quasimodos, for he clearly treated them as such. He must have kept his offspring in fear every waking minute. . .
"So how 'bout it? Let's have your names!"
Confused mutters.
"Oh, come on, I won't hurt you, just tell me your names." It was like the time Djali had gotten lodged in the back window of his wagon, and he and Esmeralda had to stand and coax him for a day and a half before the goat squeezed out.
The first Frollo in line spoke. "I'm. . .I'm- um- Jules." The other children became slightly more confident as nothing negative happened.
"Luis"
"Luisa"
"Philippe"
"Hannibal"
"Joanne"
"Michelle"
"Fred"
"George"
"Merry"
"Pippin"
"Jacques"
"Victor"
"Hugo"
"Margot"
"Pierre"
"Isaac"
". . ."
"That's Tak." Said Isaac, pointing to the wailed girl how had not spoken. "She's 'depressed'."
"Leon"
"Roland"
"Nirrissa"
"Agnes"
"Claire"
"Helene"
"Gilles"
"Marc"
"Paul"
"Jean-Pierre"
"Marie-Elise"
"Claude II" a small, pale girl. Clopin stared. "It's transsexual, OK?"
"Pin"
"Pen"
"Strawberry"
"Bell"
"Candle"
"Croissant" said Croissant, who, apparently, had been sitting on Clopin's shoulder.
"Olives"
"Frolic"
"Staples"
"Tin"
"Coal"
"Collie"
"Kettle"
"Mound"
"Purple"
"Grapes"
"Wine"
"Sparrow"
"Blob"
"Erg"
"Hot-Dog"
"Tape"
"Cattle"
"Cheese"
"Cake"
"Cheese-Cake"
"Cake-Cheese"
"Hat"
"Picture"
"Knob"
"Feather"
"Chair"
"Shoe"
"Lumber"
"Phoebus"
"Frodo"
"Sesame Biscuit"
"Cider"
"Tart"
"Sheep-Staples"
"Picture-Blob"
"Kettle-Cake"
"Funnel-Cake"
"Cabbage-Cake" ("Triplets," explained Sesame Biscuit.)
"Trunkles"
"Ant"
"Moose"
"Sheep-Tart"
"Smell"
"Purr" "Large"
"Shiny"
"Help"
"Fishnet"
"Illegal"
"Thing 1"
"Thing 2"
"Feet"
"Rabid"
"Ferrets"
"I'm"
"Running"
"Out"
"Of"
"Names"
"Oh"
"Bloody"
"Bother"
Clopin heaved a sigh. Thank the sweet mother of God there weren't any more!
"Um. . .And I'm Clopin Trouillefou."
98 voices answered: "Hello Gypsy!"
"Do you do EVERYTHING together?
"YES." All the children said, at once.
"Well, said Clopin, "have you thought of being original for a change?" He surveyed the line of kids, who stared at him blankly. Stopping in front of a boy, Clopin tapped him on the shoulder and asked: "What can you do that's special?"
"I dunno." Said the kid, "But I can do everything better than him!" He pointed to another Frollo.
"Can not!"
"Can too!"
"Can not!"
One jumped on the other, and a little wrestling match ensued. Clopin, pulling the two apart, shrugged and addressed the general body of Frollos again.
"So! See, those two can wrestle, yes."
"If Dad commanded us to, we all could do that." Said a voice.
Tak, for the first time had spoken. Her voice was cool, if slightly annoyed. Clopin smiled. Turning to her, he knelt down and looked into her gloomy, brooding eyes. "And you, can you do something?"
"I can. . . . die."
"Ok," said Clopin, getting up, "bad example. Ah! How about you?" He pointed to Sesame Biscuit. "I know you've got a knack at introductions, but I'm certain you've got some wonderful talent!
"I. . ." she began, smiling, "I can dance."
All the Frollos, excluding Tak, looked at her in horror. "What's up?" asked Clopin.
"Dancing is witchcraft!" Croissant whispered in his ear. The others muttered in agreement.
"What?" yelled Clopin, "What cracked up idiot told you something like-"
All the Frollos exchanged confused looks. Clopin slapped his forehead. Of course, he forgot whom he was dealing with. It was just that the little guys acted nothing like their parent. Surely they could be like all kids, with a bit of help. . .
"Oh, sorry. Now, come here guys, I'm not all bad! Come on!"
Nirrissa crept forward, and, hearing encouragement from the rest, went up and rang one of Clopin's bells. There was much excited muttering.
"See? Nothing wrong!" Clopin smiled, but his smile faded within seconds. The kids had all begun advancing, advancing at an uncomfortably fast rate. Almost like a human tidal wave. . .
"Kids. . .Stop! STOP! STO-O-OP!!! OH GOOD GOD!!!"
()()()()()()()()
Ooooh. I'm bored again. So I look up French names and stuff. YYAAAWWWN!
Please review! I know you love me!