cafemusain:

i stroll into heaven straight chillin and i look around. i know he is here. i must find him. i must ask him the question that has haunted me all my life.

when i finally find him, victor hugo, i walk up and take him roughly by the lapels.

“COMMENT S’APPELLAIENT-ILS, LES AMIS DE L’ABC? DISEZ-MOI MONSIEUR JE VOUS EN PRIE!“ he looks at this screaming lady, baffled. "JE DOIS SAVOIR MONSIEUR HUGO,” i implore.

he sighs gently and pats my hand.

“ils s’appellaient jean.”

“… les tous?”

“les tous, mon enfant.”

“vous etes le pire, monsieur hugo,” i spit bitterly, and let forth a cry that shakes the heavens: “THEY WERE ALL NAMED JEAN”