This...this is not actually fiction. You think I'm joking.
Robert was a short, black Sax player for a run-down school in south Louisiana. He was one of very few Saxophone players, because in a southern marching band, no one gives a fuck about any instrument except the trumpets and the drums. Truefacts. Flutes and Clarinets? Please. Get the fuck out right now before I beat you like the dude you look like.
Anyways.
Robert was extremely talented. So talented that he could totally kick Kenny G's ass. But seriously, who can't kick Kenny G's ass?
Well, despite Robert being extremely talented, he was a totally freak. I mean for real. Freakier than when freak came to Freaktown. He liked to hump chairs, grope the Tuba player's mantits, and once told the Trombone section leader that he would marry him. Eheeeeee~
This breif description of Robert's freaky-deaky antics brings us to our story.
It was your average Louisianan winter day, which means it was hot as hell but still cloudy and ugly what the hell. My section leader and I were trying to learn the hard and unnecessary Trumpet solo randomly placed between measures 33 and 42 of "Too Much Booty in the Pants." After the 23rd time of epicly failing, we saw Robert approaching us.
We automatically assumed that Robert, being his "FUCK YEAH I'M KING OF THE BAND~~!" self, would tell is that we fail at life and that we should just go die in a fire right now because his dead grandma can play better than us. And she's dead.
But no. Instead, he leaned down and stuck his face in the bell of my section leader's Trumpet and licked the inside for about 10 seconds.
My section and I made a face that can only be described as NGRDTFYFXTRDCYGUVGUH
Robert then looked up at my section leader with LOVE in his EYES and said:
"We just kissed."
I didn't know what to say, but my section leader did.
"...Uh, no we didn't. You crazy son of a bitch."
LOLOLOL TRUMPET RAPE