Quasi

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Perhaps you've read the story of Quasimodo,

the monstrous bell-ringer of Notre-Dame.

But more likely, you haven't,

because who still reads about medieval France and all that bullshit?

Well, don't worry,

because we're gonna tell you the story of the real Quasimodo.

All you need to know is that 13th-century France sucked.

It was a time of plague, poverty and torture chambers,

where one often found themselves impaled by dangerous objects.

Unless you were a king who could just dismiss your wife

when you tired of her...

or a pope humbly entrusted with the sacred offerings of his flock.

And the last thing you'd want is to get trapped between these two powerful pricks,

which is exactly where Quasimodo found himself,

an ill-advised place for a nobody.

In fact, he's quite fucked.

And this is his story.

Quasi!

Quasi!

Quasi! Quasi! Quasi! Quasi!

Quasi! Quasi.

Holy shit. What is your problem?

Come on. We're gonna be late.

We are not gonna be late.

When you grow up in a bell tower, you have a knack for keeping time.

You with your bell towers.

- Yeah. - Hey, slow down.

- Oh, now you want me to slow down? - Yeah. Slow down. Come on.

- You're the one who's in such a rush. - Let's walk together, huh? Like friends.

It's a great morning.

It's springtime. The flowers are in bloom.

The air smells of peat and sweet cloth.

Whatever. I'll take your word for it.

Aw, why so crispy, huh?

Hunchback.

Hey, you know what your problem is?

Is it that I've got a fatty deposit the size of a giant gourd on my back?

No. It's that you've given up on humanity.

You have given up on love.

Duchamp, you can't give up on something you've never had.

Well, I'm no soothsayer,

but I think this is the springtime where things turn around for my little buddy.

- Weirdo! - Freak!

Morning.

Hey, "Pope Week."

"The coronation of the new queen."

These are exciting times.

Remind me to buy more papal lottery tickets.

Oh, come on, Du. Don't waste your money. Nobody wins those things.

Somebody's gotta win. Why can't it be me?

Confession with the pope.

- Du, you're being ridiculous. - Croissant!

Hey. Croissant?

Non.

- Croissant? - Non.

- Come on. Croissant? - Non.

Croissant?

No!

Deux croissants.

I said I didn't want one.

They're both for me.

Hey! Eat shit, asshole!

Good morning, officer.

Croissant?

Why don't you duck when they throw stuff at you?

- What do you mean? I'm already ducked. - I guess that's a good point.

Back to the daily grind.

Repent for your sins!

Hey, Pascal.

Hey! Good morning, Du.

Good morning, Quasi.

Stefan, how was that date?

Incroyable!

And things got very romantic.

- You devil. - Yeah.

Matisse, what's up?

Embrace your savior!

No, it doesn't hurt that bad.

Oh, Monday, Monday, right?

Yep.

Quasi, you're late.

I know for a fact that I'm not.

Oh, that's right. I forgot. You grew up in a bell tower.

Yeah, 'cause I grew up in a bell tower.

Oh, you gonna take mouth with me?

He gets me so mad sometimes.

Don't get worked up.

Fucker's gonna start with me on a-- on a fuckin' Monday of all things.

Hey, you may think you're hot gruel 'cause you invented that rack,

but around here, you're just another monkey wrench.

Remember your place, Hunchback.

Settle down, Lucien.

I'm sure the king wouldn't wanna hear

that Quasi was bringing his rack somewhere else, like Espagne .

Michel!

- Why do you let that guy push you around? - I don't know.

- Don't let him push you around. - I know.

Dipshits, this is Michel, your new guinea pig.

You're gonna be torturing him for the next couple weeks.

- Get down there, shorty. -

Hey. Look at this little guy.

- Bonjour. Bonjour. - Bonjour.

Bonjour.

Bonjour.

Oh.

Hey, go easy on this one. He's your third this month.

See if you can keep his arms attached to his body.

- Don't worry about it. - Never happen.

All right. Back to work.

Hey, more fire ants in that guy's dick hole.

All right, Michel. You ready to get tortured?

- Yes, sir! - Yeah, come on up.

- There you go. - This isn't too bad.

- Get yourself comfortable. - Ooh, this is nice.

- Come on in here. - Okay. Here we go.

My God, his feet don't each even reach the end.

- Come on. - That's good.

- Get the arms up here. - Ah.

There we go.

- All right. How are you? You okay? - Good.

We're gonna start easy.

First time working in the torture chamber?

Yep. Just making a couple extra francs for culinary school.

Oh, a chef! Good for you.

- Yeah. - Okay, straps too tight?

No. Go as tight as you need.

You got a real can-do attitude. I like that, Michel.

I actually can't believe you pay people to do this.

Huh, well, we used to test the devices on real heretics,

but those guys said everything hurt.

Am I right?

- Heretics. - Heretics.

Ow. Oh!

- Are you okay? - Yeah.

The first time can be a bit of a shock to the system.

That's okay.

So you guys psyched for Pope Week?

Oh, my God. Here we go.

- Another Pope Week guy. - Pope Week? I love Pope Week.

Thank you for coming here on this beautiful day.

And on behalf of Pope Cornelius...

...bless you for the indulgences you've bought.

This will save you in the eyes of God.

Now, who wants to see an exorcism?

Care to participate, Your Grace?

Christ, Claude.

Just give these mouth-breathers what they want.

May the Lord extend his peaceful hand upon all of you.

And also with you.

Now split that bitch.

Brother Giuseppe.

Thanks be to God, Your Grace.

Be gone, foul behezrahoth!

Would you mind?

No, no, no, no. No, no, please!

No!

What is this papal visit next week?

France.

The French are pigs. They all stink and eat garbage.

And the royals, always marrying their own family.

They all have 11 fingers and never stop bleeding.

They're all disgusting, my lord.

Goddamn, how I hate that pompous ass, King Guy.

Postpone it.

It's scheduled with the coronation of the new queen.

- New queen? - Mmm.

I told him he wasn't allowed to divorce his first wife.

He had her killed. A bit of a work-around.

Now he's married his English cousin.

The new union will form a powerful alliance between France and England.

Oh, he'll be even more insufferable.

Damn you, Satan!

Goddamn it. This will never come off.

Say, have you heard the joke about the bed?

No.

It hasn't been made yet.

Say, have you heard the joke about the cookie?

No.

It's crummy.

Guards!

Boil my jester in oil.

No, no!

- No, no. No! No. No! - Come on.

No!

Good morning, my king.

Breakfast today is wine from the Rhône valley and fresh Belon oysters.

And where do your oysters come from, my pet?

Your Highness, we have a very busy day today.

Oh. Hello.

Good morning, milady.

Good morning, Henri-Francoise.

As I was saying, sire,

we have a meeting with the tax collectors to discuss the springtime levies.

And, of course, we have to prepare for the arrival of the pope.

Oh, Cornelius?

I hate that Gorgonzola-eating bastard.

My liege, if you hate the pope,

why not fabricate a papal decree demanding a 200% increase in tithes from the people?

Your outraged subjects will run him right out of the country.