You just reminded me of my time in Korea about 20 years ago (I canāt beleive itās been that long!)
The joke has Quasimodo in it, but itās not about him. I apologize if I somehow offend someone, but humor often does anyway. It isnāt intended in anyway. So before posting this, I had it vetted. I was told itās ācuteā. 
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When I was stationed at Osan AB, Korea, a coworker loved to tell jokes. We all loved him telling jokes for two reasons. The first reason, his team chief forbade him from telling jokes. He would threaten him with bodily harm. His team chief was a Tae Kwan do instructor. And he was very good. The reason he didnāt want him telling the jokes was our second reason for the jokes being so good. The guy couldnāt keep a strait face. He would still be 30 seconds from the punch line, and heād be giggling about it. By the time he got to the punch line we were already rolling on the floor. It was like having an appetizer before a meal. Food to make you hungry for more food. Or, humor to warm up your funny bone.
He told two jokes. And they both always busted us up, even hearing it every day for months on end.
Here is the first one. I might not get to the second.
āQuasimodoā
Quasimodo continued to live in the Notre-Dame for many years. He eventually became steward of the bells. His skill at ringing the various bells became well known. He was such a master.
One day a young man asked him to train him how to ring the bells as well as he. There was a problem. The young man was an amputee. He had lost both arms in the war. Quasi hesitated, but the young man begged him to teach him. So he asked, āyou have no arms. How do you expect to use my hammer?ā. The young man replied, āgive me a chance, I will show youā.
So Quasimodo took him to the first bell. Quasimodo swung his hammer, and out poured a beautiful chime. He looked at the young man, there, how will you make such a beautiful chime without using a hammer?ā
The young man stood there, staring at the bell. He walked up to it, leaned forward as if to kiss it, reared back until he almost fell over, and slammed his face into the bell.
Quasimodo was pleased with the sound. It was a bit unorthodox, but the kid had spirit. So he agreed, and they went to a larger bell.
Again, Quasimodo swung his hammer. This was a much larger bell, and the ring it produced was deep and pure. He doubted the young man could possibly do it justice. But he did. He hit the bell hard with his face, and again, it rang just as well as with the hammer.
Quasimodo thought for a moment. āIt would be a shame to go through all these smaller bells, only to find you canāt ring the largest one at the top of the tower. Letās go to that one next. If you can ring that one as true as you did the others, then I will take you on as my apprentice. The young man could hardly conceal his joy. To the tower they went.
The tower was nearly a hundred feet tall. The bell, the size of a small cottage. Quasimodo spit in his hands, rubbed them vigorously, picked up the hammer and swung with all his might. The ring of the bell was heavenly. He was pleased after all his years of ringing this bell, he could still do so well.
The young man looked a bit intimidated. But he was determined to make it ring with as much beauty as he could. He took a few steps back, made a rush for the bell, running as hard as he could. He tripped, slid across the floor, under the bell, and fell down the shaft to his death.
Later, Quasimodo told the police what happened. How this young man had such passion to be a great bell ringer. The police asked what the young mans name was. Quasimodo said, āI donāt know his name, but his face sure does ring a bellā.
A week laterā¦
Another young man comes to Quasimodo. He states that a week ago his twin brother came here to ring bells, and died. Quasimodo was a bit defensive, and tried to explain it was a horrible accident. The young man said he knows that, but wanted to honor his bother by following in his footsteps, and learn to ring the bells of Norte-dame.
Quasimodo sighs, at least He can hold the hammer, ācan you swing a hammer?ā He asked. āOf course I can! Please teach me.ā
So Quasimodo took the young man to each bell. He was able to swing the hammer and ring the bells, very well indeed.
When they got to the largest bell. The one where his brother fell to his death, he began to get nervous. He looked the bell over, he looked at the shaft. He chose a good place to stand, to swing the massive hammer.
He took a swing with all his might. He completely missed the bell! The weight of the hammer twirled him around a few times, and he lost his balance and fell down the shaft to his demise. Quasimodo thought, oh not another one.
When speaking to the police, they said, āQuasimodo, this is two deaths in one week. Who was this guy? ā
Quasimodo said, āI never got his name. But heās a dead ringer for his brother!ā
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Indeed, that joke was really that long. And everyone loved it. The poor guy couldnāt keep a strait face while telling it. We got a kick out of it when his team chief would show up mid joke, and he would try to choke down his giggles.
