A ficlet, a useless one, really. Oh, I do not own HoND, not that anyone cares. . .
"Stupid idiot." Catwiz plopped her copy of Notre Dame de Paris back on the floor. Frollo the rat squeaked in objection to being moved and scurried to the sanctuary of his owner's pocket. "The movie is better. No Gring- Gringvierre or how the heck. . ."
She stumbled to her feet, rubbing her head and petting her pocket, when the pop-bottle aquarium on her desk caught her eye.
"Holy crap, they're multiplying!" Indeed, the small water snails in the bottle had tripled in number in the last few days. Catwiz had lately gotten into the habit of naming all her possessions 'Frollo'. Her Puppet, her rat, her snail, her eggbeater. . .Now Frollo the snail had produced several dozen mini-Frollos. . .
"Dad! Dad! Number 74 says his ribbon is longer than mine! Tell him it's not true!"
Frollo sank back into his armchair with a sigh of annoyance. He then took both of the kids' hats and stretched out the ribbons. "See, they're precisely the same!" The minister then wasted no time to point out that his own was longer.
"Off to bed. Both of you!"
The Frollos scamper off into the Palace of Justice, chattering softly.
"Come back here, and walk."
Some time later, Frollo Senior stepped out onto a balcony, a gust of fresh air hitting his face and lungs. It was quiet a pleasant relief from the stuffy, kid-infested interior. Savoring the brisk night air, he rubbed his temples and muttered: "What am I going to do with that lot?"
"You just want to get rid of us, don't you?" said a soft female voice. A little Frollo, her face covered in a veil, was standing by her parent's side. Frollo looked down to meet her gaze.
"No, Nooo! Well –Well yes I do. . .But Tak, don't. . .Don't give me that look. . ."
'Tak stared up, black eyes perfectly still. "I don't mind. If you get rid of us. I don't mind."
"Look, just, go . . ." He cleared his thoat. "You. Go to sleep. Now."
"Oh, and 15 and 29 are fighting." Tak walked off, slowly, in an almost depressed fashion. Frollo stared into the sky, and repeated his question to himself. Morning came.
Clopin whacked his puppet across the head. "Shut your trap! Don't you tell me I need a bath!" The children watching him giggled with glee.
From his palace, Frollo hissed a near silent 'Yesss.'
"Trouillefou."
Clopin tugged at the ropes that restrained him in annoyance. "Ok, for once, I didn't do anything!"
"And I did not say you did."
"Well of course you didn't. I'm telling you I didn't—Wait. What?" He stopped struggling and met Frollo's eyes. "You didn't?"
"No, you Gypsy trash! Now, are you good with children, I presume?"
"Yeah. Yeah I am. Is that all you wanted?" Clopin hissed, "Why'd you BIND me then?"
"Can you handle a large number?"
"Well, yeah!" Clopin twitched, his feet sliding out of place beneath him. "Can I go now, I got puppets to feed. . ."
"Let us say, 98? Can you do this?"
Clopin's eyes became wide. "W-What?"
"So," said Clopin, stretching out in a chair, sometime later, "Will I get paid?"
Frollo smiled a half-smile. "You will be fed."
"I'm your man."
"Good then. Get ready to meet my horde."
The Gypsy looked around uneasily. "Wait, I-I have to bring some of my belongings up. . ."
"It's done. Your wagon was brought along with you."
"Well," said Clopin, "That's convenient."
Frollo clapped three times. Before Clopin's amazed eyes, 98 children, all looking exactly like Frollo save some difference in their faces, formed a perfect, still line. Frollo walked about, checking to see if any were out of place.
"Goodness, you weren't kidding!" gasped Clopin.
"You! 32! What are you doing in the front! Get back where you belong! Honestly, must I start sewing numbers in your ribbons?!"
Clopin shook his head. "He treats them like dogs. . .like prisoners!"
One of the smaller Frollos, a redhead, sneezed. Frollo Senior strode over snapped in front of his face. The little boy whimpered and straightened out. Frollo motioned for Clopin to follow him.
"This is your bedroom? But- but it's humongous! And it's all gray. . ." Clopin's voice echoed slightly.
Frollo gave him a little push in. "You shall stay here."
"Oh, wow! For once in my life a bed! A bed all to myself!" He stretched out on the colorless sheets. Frollo grabbed his arm.
"GYPSY! How dare you spread your stench on my bed!?"
Clopin sniffed himself and shrugged.
"Where do Gypsies sleep, Trouillefou?" Frollo's lip curled.
Clopin hopped up and began removing the decorative cloth covered in bells around his neck. Frollo shook his head. "No. No, no! Don't- Don't you start doing that in here! You-"
"Relax," said Clopin. He stretched the cloth out between a hook and an iron bench, forming a sort of hammock. "Ok, now I'm good. Bring on the kids!"
Frollo looked him flat in the eyes. "Watch them, Gypsy, make sure nothing happens to them. On your miserable life! I will return tomorrow. Nothing, nothing better go wrong, do you hear me?"
"Yes, yes I hear."
"Good."
The bells of Notre Dame, those wondrous bells, had just struck midnight. Swinging in his hammock, Clopin snickered under his breath. "What was he so annoyed about? These guys are silent as mice!" Something poked him in the ribs.
"Gypsy? Gypsy?"
'What?" Clopin recognized the kid who had sneezed. "Oh, it's you, Redhead. Hi. . ."
"My name's not 'Redhead'," said the Frollo, "It's Frollo."
"Well yeah. All of you are named Frollo. . . what's your name?"
"I'm number 36."
"Name?"
"It's. . ." the kid said in a small voice. "It's. . .Croissant."
A shiver went through Clopin. "What kind of sick, twisted parent would name their kid Croissant?"
The young Frollo leaned over the hammock and smiling, whispered: "Dad ran out of names after the first 30 of us."
"Yes," Clopin said, "the- the '30 of you' . . . Who's your mom?"
Croissant shrugged. "Hey, can I—can I- Well, I'm kinda scared of the dark, but Dad always yells at me for it. . ."
"So?"
"So, I was wondering, could I-could I. . .Well, share your hammock?" He flinched, expecting to be scolded.
"Ok, sure. No problem! Come one, little guy. Don't be scared!" The little Frollo stood still in shock, then scrambled up, digging his face into Clopin's shoulder and sighing.
"Hmm." Breathed Clopin, "Hard to believe they're related."
Hope you like. I sorta wrote it at like, 10:00. I really do have like, 60 baby snails. Look forward to Chappy Two all!
"Stupid idiot." Catwiz plopped her copy of Notre Dame de Paris back on the floor. Frollo the rat squeaked in objection to being moved and scurried to the sanctuary of his owner's pocket. "The movie is better. No Gring- Gringvierre or how the heck. . ."
She stumbled to her feet, rubbing her head and petting her pocket, when the pop-bottle aquarium on her desk caught her eye.
"Holy crap, they're multiplying!" Indeed, the small water snails in the bottle had tripled in number in the last few days. Catwiz had lately gotten into the habit of naming all her possessions 'Frollo'. Her Puppet, her rat, her snail, her eggbeater. . .Now Frollo the snail had produced several dozen mini-Frollos. . .
"Dad! Dad! Number 74 says his ribbon is longer than mine! Tell him it's not true!"
Frollo sank back into his armchair with a sigh of annoyance. He then took both of the kids' hats and stretched out the ribbons. "See, they're precisely the same!" The minister then wasted no time to point out that his own was longer.
"Off to bed. Both of you!"
The Frollos scamper off into the Palace of Justice, chattering softly.
"Come back here, and walk."
Some time later, Frollo Senior stepped out onto a balcony, a gust of fresh air hitting his face and lungs. It was quiet a pleasant relief from the stuffy, kid-infested interior. Savoring the brisk night air, he rubbed his temples and muttered: "What am I going to do with that lot?"
"You just want to get rid of us, don't you?" said a soft female voice. A little Frollo, her face covered in a veil, was standing by her parent's side. Frollo looked down to meet her gaze.
"No, Nooo! Well –Well yes I do. . .But Tak, don't. . .Don't give me that look. . ."
'Tak stared up, black eyes perfectly still. "I don't mind. If you get rid of us. I don't mind."
"Look, just, go . . ." He cleared his thoat. "You. Go to sleep. Now."
"Oh, and 15 and 29 are fighting." Tak walked off, slowly, in an almost depressed fashion. Frollo stared into the sky, and repeated his question to himself. Morning came.
Clopin whacked his puppet across the head. "Shut your trap! Don't you tell me I need a bath!" The children watching him giggled with glee.
From his palace, Frollo hissed a near silent 'Yesss.'
"Trouillefou."
Clopin tugged at the ropes that restrained him in annoyance. "Ok, for once, I didn't do anything!"
"And I did not say you did."
"Well of course you didn't. I'm telling you I didn't—Wait. What?" He stopped struggling and met Frollo's eyes. "You didn't?"
"No, you Gypsy trash! Now, are you good with children, I presume?"
"Yeah. Yeah I am. Is that all you wanted?" Clopin hissed, "Why'd you BIND me then?"
"Can you handle a large number?"
"Well, yeah!" Clopin twitched, his feet sliding out of place beneath him. "Can I go now, I got puppets to feed. . ."
"Let us say, 98? Can you do this?"
Clopin's eyes became wide. "W-What?"
"So," said Clopin, stretching out in a chair, sometime later, "Will I get paid?"
Frollo smiled a half-smile. "You will be fed."
"I'm your man."
"Good then. Get ready to meet my horde."
The Gypsy looked around uneasily. "Wait, I-I have to bring some of my belongings up. . ."
"It's done. Your wagon was brought along with you."
"Well," said Clopin, "That's convenient."
Frollo clapped three times. Before Clopin's amazed eyes, 98 children, all looking exactly like Frollo save some difference in their faces, formed a perfect, still line. Frollo walked about, checking to see if any were out of place.
"Goodness, you weren't kidding!" gasped Clopin.
"You! 32! What are you doing in the front! Get back where you belong! Honestly, must I start sewing numbers in your ribbons?!"
Clopin shook his head. "He treats them like dogs. . .like prisoners!"
One of the smaller Frollos, a redhead, sneezed. Frollo Senior strode over snapped in front of his face. The little boy whimpered and straightened out. Frollo motioned for Clopin to follow him.
"This is your bedroom? But- but it's humongous! And it's all gray. . ." Clopin's voice echoed slightly.
Frollo gave him a little push in. "You shall stay here."
"Oh, wow! For once in my life a bed! A bed all to myself!" He stretched out on the colorless sheets. Frollo grabbed his arm.
"GYPSY! How dare you spread your stench on my bed!?"
Clopin sniffed himself and shrugged.
"Where do Gypsies sleep, Trouillefou?" Frollo's lip curled.
Clopin hopped up and began removing the decorative cloth covered in bells around his neck. Frollo shook his head. "No. No, no! Don't- Don't you start doing that in here! You-"
"Relax," said Clopin. He stretched the cloth out between a hook and an iron bench, forming a sort of hammock. "Ok, now I'm good. Bring on the kids!"
Frollo looked him flat in the eyes. "Watch them, Gypsy, make sure nothing happens to them. On your miserable life! I will return tomorrow. Nothing, nothing better go wrong, do you hear me?"
"Yes, yes I hear."
"Good."
The bells of Notre Dame, those wondrous bells, had just struck midnight. Swinging in his hammock, Clopin snickered under his breath. "What was he so annoyed about? These guys are silent as mice!" Something poked him in the ribs.
"Gypsy? Gypsy?"
'What?" Clopin recognized the kid who had sneezed. "Oh, it's you, Redhead. Hi. . ."
"My name's not 'Redhead'," said the Frollo, "It's Frollo."
"Well yeah. All of you are named Frollo. . . what's your name?"
"I'm number 36."
"Name?"
"It's. . ." the kid said in a small voice. "It's. . .Croissant."
A shiver went through Clopin. "What kind of sick, twisted parent would name their kid Croissant?"
The young Frollo leaned over the hammock and smiling, whispered: "Dad ran out of names after the first 30 of us."
"Yes," Clopin said, "the- the '30 of you' . . . Who's your mom?"
Croissant shrugged. "Hey, can I—can I- Well, I'm kinda scared of the dark, but Dad always yells at me for it. . ."
"So?"
"So, I was wondering, could I-could I. . .Well, share your hammock?" He flinched, expecting to be scolded.
"Ok, sure. No problem! Come one, little guy. Don't be scared!" The little Frollo stood still in shock, then scrambled up, digging his face into Clopin's shoulder and sighing.
"Hmm." Breathed Clopin, "Hard to believe they're related."
Hope you like. I sorta wrote it at like, 10:00. I really do have like, 60 baby snails. Look forward to Chappy Two all!