9 Comments

Five Sentence Fiction — Ringing

Tuesday is when I tackle some Five Sentence Fiction. Feel free to take Lillie McFerrin’s challenge to write a five sentence story based on a single word prompt. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just used for direction. This week’s word is Ringing.

bell tower
Here is my offering:

Quasimodo saw the advertisement and walked into the cathedral to apply for the job of bell ringer. “My tragic and misshaped fellow, how can you possibly contend that you are qualified for the job when you have no arms?” asked the Monsignor.

Quasi replied in a drooling, guttural drawl, “Oh, Father, but me have a thick skull and I can bong bell with me head.” The dimwit was true to his word and every hour he ran headlong into the bell striking out the time of day—9 o’clock, 10 o’clock, 11 o’clock—until noon rolled around when he knocked himself silly on the ninth chime, and with his ears still ringing he lost his balance, toppled ass-over-hunchback from the bell tower and plunged to his untimely death.

The Monsignor was summoned to identify the poor sod and as the priest bent over him he remarked, ‘Can’t place the name, but his face rings a bell.’”

It’s an old joke and I can’t take credit for the idea but I will take credit for the telling. I hope it brought a smile…

Got five sentences? Share them!

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9 comments on “Five Sentence Fiction — Ringing

  1. Bwahahahaha. Cracked me up. I like a good, old joke. This was fabulous.

  2. That was my intent. Happy Tuesday!

  3. If you’re going to tell jokes that bad on here, you may as well have the follow-up part:

    The following day, despite the sadness that weighed heavily on his heart, the Monsignor continued his interviews for a bell ringer.

    The first man to approach him said, “Your Grace, I am the brother of the poor armless man who fell to his death from this belfry yesterday. I pray that you will allow me to replace my brother.”

    The Bishop agreed to an audition, but as the man reached to strike the first bell, he groaned, clutched at his chest, collapsed, and died on the spot. Two monks, hearing the cries of grief from the Monsignor at the tragedy, rushed up the stairs.

    “What has happened? Who is this man? ” they cried.

    “I don’t know his name” exclaimed the Monsignor, but he’s a dead ringer for his brother.”

    My apologies…

  4. I’ve totally missed out on hearing this clever tale previously, it made me smile tonight. A fun read!

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