Disclaimer: I don't own Spiderman, The Flying Nun, that funny "Boot to the Head" comedy skit, Green Eggs and Ham, or anything related to these things that I've referrred to. However, I do own my characters (Trey, The Cracker, Spider DRUM MAJOR, Geek Enslaver, all those crazy people), they are MINE. RAWR.
A/N: Hi there, everyone! My name is Tetra, I'm one of the writers with the Band Geek Guild, and this is my first story ever (it's pretty random but gets funny)! Some of the characters with multiple identities may become tedious to remember, so I've italicized some of the names to show their entries. Bon appetite! ...Oh wait...don't eat me!
THE CRACKER: DRUM MAJOR OR DOG TREAT?
In a musical land of magic, beneficial and detrimental super humans, and band members alike...
What would we become if we didn't have teamwork...
Even among leaders?
7:10 AM, Date Unknown
The Marching Band has just arrived on the street to begin their early morning practice. It is cool outside, with a slight breeze from the west stirring the amber and yellowed leaves of fall. Forming a block, the band takes its place in the middle of the street as Trey, the drum major, steps up in front of the band. Everything is set. Everything is ready, and quiet.
Too quiet.
As Trey begins beating time past the variety of houses, he keeps his eyes and ears open for danger. Sometimes, evil arrives when we least expect it, whether we're out on the street marching and blaring our instruments or at home digging for belly button lint in the bathtub—darkness pops up in the middle of our normal, everyday routines.
Marching down the road for the fourth time, Trey begins to feel nervous. So far, nothing has happened. At any moment, the innocent-looking band director walking next to him might spring into action and transform into... !
With a shake of his head, Trey banishes these thoughts. She could never do that, not here, with all these innocent and unknowing marchers around. And, even if she does, Trey thinks, I can save them. I, Drum Major Trey, could just as easily poof into--
Just then, from a house on the right comes a loud sound, interrupting Trey's thoughts. Wait, no, two loud sounds, one high-pitched and the other a low growl. Could it be... ?
"OH MY GOSH, LOOK, IT'S A POODLE IN A PINK DRESS AND A BOXER WITH A CHAIN COLLAR! You know, chain collars?! They're all the rage right now, just look in Doggy Boutique Magazine..." shouts a saxophone player from the fourth rank. A trumpet player in front rolls her eyes.
Momentarily distracted by the dog's fashionable neckwear, Trey becomes dazed. "AHH! Help me!" he cries. "The...Collar! It's just so... fancy! THE BEAUTY BURNS!!" The band looks on, seeking the director, who has disappeared somewhere!
"Wow, Kylie was right, that thing IS nice..." mutters the eye-rolling trumpet player in the front rank. The rest of the band turns their attention to the dogs, not noticing when she and the saxophonist Kylie turn and slip away from the block...
"EEEEEK!! I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING!"
"NO, I'VE BEEN BLINDED BY THE GOOD TASTE OF CANINES!"
"WHO STOLE MY SOCKS?"
"AW, PUT A SOCK IN IT, MARGIE!"
"WELL, MAYBE I WOULD IF I HAD A SOCK!"
"I ATE A POPTART FOR BREAKFAST, HALF OF IT IS STUCK IN MY SLIDE AND I CAN'T GET IT OUT!"
The entire marching band loses their vision—and self-control—at the sight of the dogs' gorgeous accessories! Meanwhile, Trey struggles at the front of the band. He tries to clear his clouded vision while the Chihuahua runs along behind him, nipping at his heels. The boxer continues to circle and bark, eyeing the mace as if it is a toy.
Will Trey ever be freed from the instantaneous loss of concentration thrust upon him by the animals? Can he shake away the dogs fast enough to save his band friends from crashing into one another? And where on Earth has the band director disappeared?
QUESTIONS TO BE ANSWERED AND STORY TO BE CONTINUED...
RIGHT NOW.
"AGH!" Trey shouts in irritation. If I could only have a moment's concentration, then perhaps I could help! The dogs continue to bark and slobber and nip at the desperate drum major when out of nowhere...
TWEEEEEEEEEEEET!
The shrill call of the Acme Thunderer Drum Major Whistle—the cry of all Drum Major Heroes alike—screams from somewhere nearby. Something in the heroic scream of the note allows the marchers to regain their vision! The band gasps and points up ahead and to the left side of the block. A teenage girl wearing a red suit covered with white web-like silk strands charges toward the head of the band. Her glasses help to conceal her identity as they bounce slightly on her nose, a trumpet mute in one hand and a slightly shortened black mace in the other.
"It's the Spider Drum Major!" the trombonist squeaks in excitement.
"And look, it's The Cracker—He's my favorite Drum Major Hero!" a flute player points at the place where Trey once stood. In the drum major's position is a tall, light-haired teen in a white-and-blue Drum Major uniform. The two dogs snap viciously at his feet, barking and yelping all the while. The two heroes standing before the group are a Marching Band legend, but to see them in real life is amazing to all.
"Save me, Spider DM!" The Cracker cries in his infamous high voice.
Spider DM chooses a good spot to plant her feet, then throws her arm out, yelling, "TAKE THIS, YOU FILTHY MUT!"
...
...
...
HISSSSSS...
...
...
"Aw, crap."
Spider DM's web-shooting glove ran out of silk! Instead, a clear liquid pours out. "Fuddruckers! Stupid magic valve oil, you couldn't harden into web fast enough..."
As she tries to fix the problem, a new complication arrives. The Geek Enslaver, wielder of evil music sorcery, is now suddenly on the scene (amazingly in the exact spot where the band director had been not a moment before)! Her wild red hair blows about in the breeze, her true identity concealed by dark sunglasses and a black leather suit. She cackles with glee and brandishes her evil conducting baton.
The Cracker gasps. "It's YOU! I should've known!"
"Yes, you should have. Unfortunately, you also don't know the difference between a trumpet mute and an ice cream cone when you ought to. Everyone knows that if you want to get the ice cream in the mute you have to slice the bottom off with a chainsaw." The small Chihuahua next to The Cracker barks and rips a tear in his nice pants. "Ooh, this is going even better than I planned! Get him, Sparky! I—"
Just then, in the midst of another earsplitting cry of disgust from The Cracker, some blue and faded material flies through the air!
"What the—" the Geek Enslaver's jaw drops as Band Geeks guess at what the object is.
"It's a bird!" the tuba player screams.
"It's a plane!" yells a trumpeter.
"It's my old boxers! I was wondering where those went!"
Silence fills the street...But only for a moment!
"NO, it's a HYMNBOOK!!" claims a keen-eyed flautist in the back row. "And look—IT'S THE FLYING NUN!!" In the excitement, no one even notices the girl faint at the sight of the ancient television star.
Sure enough, the Flying Nun—clad in her long, cream-colored dress-like outfit with a whistle around her neck—flies over the trees and lands next to the band! It was she who threw the hymnbook! It flew from her hand with ease, and presently landed next to the dogs.
"DUCK AND COVER!!" she calls to The Cracker.
"WHY?" The Cracker cracks.
BOOM! A cloud of smoke rises from the small book, and The Cracker's white pants are smeared with black dust. "Explosive books—THAT'S why!" the Nun sighs.
The clapping sound emitted by the hymnbook sends the dogs scurrying into hiding. They cower in fear behind some bushes in surrender.
"NO! How could this have happened to me?" the Geek Enslaver shrieks and collapses on the ground in defeat.
"YES, we won!" Spider DM cries, giving up on trying to fix her gloves.
"WOOO-OOOO-OOOO!" The Cracker cheers; everyone slams their hands to their ears as his voice cracks twice. Then he turns to the two friends. "And...Thank you for helping me; I could have been kibble! Those dogs were vicious, probably under some sort of spell!"
"Sure, no problem! Thank heavens we made it!" says the Flying Nun.
"That's what YOU think! Hee hee hee hee hee!"
The three heroic band leaders whirl around to face the Geek Enslaver. Her shades have fallen off, exposing probing crimson eyes, and she holds her baton at a menacing angle. "You may have scared off my dogs—well, actually, they're not my dogs, I breed Dandie Dinmont Terriers, they're quite adorable—"
Spider Drum Major taps her foot impatiently.
"Oh, right, intense final battle, my mistake." She lifts her baton again. "Let's see how you like THIS!"
Waving her little stick, a black cloud of Band Director Darkness—the most diabolical of all Band Magic—forms beside her. Then, with a quick downward flick on beat one, razor-sharp reeds fly from the cloud, pinning the Drum Majors down into the street!
"Agh, I can't move!" struggles the Nun.
"Aww, GREAT, first I get attacked by dogs that drool pools of saliva onto my pants, then smudges and tears on top of that, now THIS? They'll be ripped to shreds!" The Cracker protests. Spider Drum Major rolls her eyes at her ally while The Flying Nun nods sympathetically.
"Quit your whining! Now, to finish you off..." The Geek Enslaver advances on the friends quickly. "I decree...a BOOT TO THE HEAD!"
CRACK!
"NO!"
In a flash, the Drum Majors are free and the baton lies on a patch of grass a yard away next to an ugly black boot. Something—or someone—with a shadowy figure had come and swiped it out of the Geek Enslaver's grasp! "What the heck..?" the Geek Enslaver stares at her empty hand.
"We are FREE!!" exclaims the Flying Nun.
"Happy to help." A voice behind the friends startles them. They all wheel around to see a slim, small boy in a dark suit. "Who are you?" The Cracker asks warily.
"Oh, don't worry—I'm a friend." He pulls a whistle out from around his neck to show that he, too, was one of the few good Drum Major citizens.
"But exactly who ARE you?" asks Spider DM, now curious.
"Just call me...Sam."
"Sam...OH, like that guy with the green eggs?" inquires the Nun.
"Ooh, I love those!" nods The Cracker. "So colorful..."
"NO, I am not a figment of Dr. Suess' imagination!" Sam says indignantly. "I'm...Secret Agent Man."
"Then...where did Sam go?" the Nun asks, puzzled.
Spider DM slaps her forehead. "Oh, for the love of Burger Time! He IS Sam—S stands for Secret, A for Agent, and M is for Man. That makes SAM."
"Thank you for understanding!" Sam exclaims.
"Ohhhh, I get it...but you look more like a James to me..." the Flying Nun wonders aloud...
"Enough of this senseless chatter!" growls the Geek Enslaver, finally recovered from the shock and rapidly approaching with baton in hand. "It's time to—"
"FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!" the entire band behind the five super-humans chants in unison. They have just come out from their moment of shocked silence and encourage the Drum Majors' victory animatedly. Snare drummers beat out a long drum roll, while the brass section blasts the school fight song. "Gah! Can't...Focus...With the NOISE!" the Geek Enslaver gasps.
"Wow, for an evil band director, you sure are picky about loud sounds," comments The Cracker with disdain. "Hey...Hey, look guys, my voice didn't crack!" His face lights up in delight. "My voice! It's okay!" In his growing excitement, he tries a cheer. "YAAA-AAY! ...OW!"
"So you...Give up?" challenges Sam, ignoring The Cracker's minute victory and then immediate loss of pride.
"NEVER! You may have won the battle, but you haven't won the SCORE!!" The Drum Majors stare at her with a puzzled expression.
"You know, score, rhymes with war..." the Geek Enslaver explains, suddenly caught up in the rush of the need to teach (one of her weaknesses, no doubt!). Her methods don't seem to be working... "The SCORE, the MUSIC!" No response. "Sheesh, and you call yourselves Drum Majors, head of Band Geeks! Ugh, I am done here, and so are you!" With a disgusted flick of her baton, the Geek Enslaver cast a spell that sent everyone back in time several hours...
3:00 AM, Date Unknown
Trey wakes in his bed. "What an awful dream," he says to himself. "I can't believe that she...Nah, it can't be." He smiles, embarrassed for thinking such irrational things, and then makes a mental note:
Beware of small dogs in pink and boxers with chain collars.
Then he rolls over and sleeps peacefully until morning.