Dead Soul Puns

(Please read part one first)

News of Quasimodo's death reached his village, and his brother Demimodo journeyed to Paris to pay his respects to his brother.

After visiting the grave, he went to the cathedral to express his gratitude to the Archbishop and his staff for looking after his brother in life and in death.

In conversation, the Archbishop learned that despite having the same gnarled hands as his brother, Demimodo also was an experienced bell ringer, having performed this service at his village church, using the same technique.

Demimodo was hired to replace his brother and started to ring the bells morning, noon and night. Some said he rang them better than his brother.

Come Easter time, and Demimodo decided to offer a grand symphony before the bells went quiet on Maundy Thursday.

On the Wednesday night, Demimodo went into orchestral mode and played superbly. As his brother did, he too wanted to end on a crescendo, and like his brother, he too took a flying leap at the last bell.

And missed.

Once again, the public were asked by the gendarmes if anyone knew who this poor soul was. The same person who spoke of Quasimodo replied, "I don't know his name, but he was a dead ringer for his brother."

One bee keeper the other be reaper.

They snuck from their beds in the middle of the night and met in the gloomy darkness in front of the house, shivering in the cold.

The first boy said in a loud whisper, "You guys bring anything?" He slid a gun out of his pocket. The second boy nodded and revealed a knife. The third boy pulled out a flashlight.

"You didn't bring a weapon?" the first boy asked. He shrugged and replied, "Sorry". And as if to prove it, he turned his pockets out to show nothing but stray lint and a pack of cough drops.

They crept in. The door shut behind them. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. The flash light clicked on. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door on the other side, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a dead body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They found a fully set, ornate dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal goblets, pitchers and silverware adorned the table. Spiders crept over ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hel