F'd U Productions Presents:

The Band Survival Guide

Lesson 1:

Don't Mess With the Drum Major

note: the characters in this story are vaguely related to the people in my band, the SCHS Marching Cardinals. For comic effect, my co-writer, one of our drum majors, and I have made up or exaggerated certain qualities of our members. Everyone except Cameron is really not as bad as we depict them. We don't like Cameron. He is a fetus.

It was a beautiful, serene evening; the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the clarinets were screwiing up yet another song.

"What the crap was that supposed to be?" asked the drum major as she stopped conducting. "I know you people are not this friggin' incompetent!"

"Well I played it perfect," said Cameron, a freshman saxophone player.

"Cameron… you're holding your instrument up-side down." the drum major, Andy (girl) said.

Cameron looked down at his saxophone… that was up-side down. He tried feebly to find the correct position.

"No, the mouthpiece goes in your mouth… no, that's the bell… don't put your finger in there! Okay, now put on your neck strap… on your neck, dumbass!" After ten minutes of teaching Cameron how to hold the instrument he'd been playing for three years, Andy was finally ready to re-start the song.

"Alright let's…please, God… let's try the song again. 1, 2, ready, play."

SCREEECH!

Andy stopped immediately with a disgusted look on her face. You know the kind of face you make when you take a big drink of soured milk that has been sitting on top of a radiator for weeks.

"…You people aren't even trying, are you!" Andy said, infuriated. There was silence until…

"It's been a long week!" cried Cameron.

"IT'S TUESDAY!" screamed Andy. "What the hell is wrong with you people!"

"Come on, Andy!" said Dewey, a tuba player. "Practice should've ended an hour ago! I wanna go home! I'm hungry! I need my ointment!"

"You can go home when we get this song right!" yelled Andy. "But speaking of which, I'm kind of hungry… If you need me, I'll be in the drum-major room-slash-hotel-slash-spa getting a steak from the five-star restaurant."

Andy walked out of the band room and motioned for the other drum major, Becky to take her place. Becky stepped up to the podium.

"Alright, people, I won't be as tolerant as Andy," said Becky. Several band members twitched. "So let's try and do our veeeeeerrry best. 'Kay?"

"Um… okay."

"Gooooood. Because if we don't do good at our next competition, Becky will be unhappy. You won't like me when I'm unhappy." Becky's voice was starting to deepen. "I tend to get unpleasant when I'm unhappy. And I know where every one of you lives. And I will find you."

The band room was silent, aside from the releasing of various liquids.

"Okay then!" Becky said, her normal tone returning. " First song. Alright, 1, 2, ready, play."

Outside, a dog starts whimpering. A child starts crying. A car suddenly skids across four lanes of traffic and slams into a cement barrier. And the earth's rotation falters."

Becky looked furious. "Dewey! I told you no farting in the band room! Okay, now let's actually start the song. 1, 2, ready, play."

The song, despite Becky's "unique" pep talk, was still lacking. The wrong notes, rushed rhythms, and complete lack of dynamics was starting to get on Becky's nerves. She stopped conducting.

"Okay, I didn't want to have to do this," Becky picked up a puppy and pulled a revolver out of her pocket. "One bullet, six chambers. For every wrong note I hear I pull the trigger." She puts the barrel to the puppy's head. It whimpers adorably.

"NO! PUPPY!" the band screamed in unison.

"If you want the puppy to live you will PLAY THEDAMN SONG RIGHT!" screamed Becky.

"I thought you weren't allowed to have weapons in school." said Byron, a flute player.

"One of the perks of being a drum major." Becky beamed.

"Isn't it against the law?"

"I AM ABOVE THE LAW!"

"…oh yeah."

"Now are we going to play the song right this time?" The band nodded nervously. "Good. Andy, I'm holding the puppy, so can you conduct for me? Andy? Andy!"

"Huh!" Andy awoke with a start. "Was I asleep? I don't remember…" she looked down and noticed her water bottle. "CAMERON! DID YOU SPIKE MY WATER AGAIN?"

"Uh… no! what makes you say that?" A reed case suddenly dropped from his stand and shattered, spilling a white powder all over the floor.

"THAT'S THE THIRD TIME THIS MONTH!" Andy pulled her handgun from her belt loop and pointed it at Cameron.

"Andy! Mrs. Harless (the band director) said no more casualties!" warned Becky.

"It's just Cameron."

"Get up here and conduct already." said Becky. Andy started to get on the podium as she noticed Becky holding her gun to a puppy.

"Ahh, the old wrong-note-Russian-Roulette-with-a-puppy routine. A classic. Alright, 1, 2, ready, play."

"Hold it!" cried someone. Then about ten people in matching t-shirts stormed the band room and snatched the puppy from Becky's hands. They were gone as suddenly as they appeared.

"Son of a midget stripper!" exclaimed Becky. "Why does PETA keep interrupting our practices!"

"Because you keep pointing guns at puppies!" said Cameron.

"Shut up!" said Andy, then she shot Cameron in the stomach with her standard-issue Field Captain 9mm.

"AH! OH GOD! IT HURTS!" cried Cameron.

"Oh, suck it up, pussy! You always cry when you get shot, ya big baby! Grow up!" said Becky.

"I'm bleeding! Please! Call an ambulance!"

"I'll call an ambulance when you get measure 32 right!" said Andy. "Do you really expect me to let you have ambulance privileges the way you're playing right now?"

"Okay people, start from the beginning, and play it right or we might end up like Cameron now might we?" said Becky.

The band started playing. The trumpet section, as always, was perfect. The saxophone section was good. Now if they could only get the flute section………. Nope.

"Alright, everyone stop!" Andy yelled. "Listen up. Once upon a time…"

"Yay! I like stories!" said Dewey.

"…their was an elf, and he played flute. Well he practiced all the time and could play his rehearsal songs perfect, so that way his drum major wouldn't put the flute where the sun don't shine." Her tone was harsh. "So why don't our flutes learn something from the elf."

Byron looked up with a tear in his eye. His hands trembled on his flute as he looked at it.

"Why are you crying you little bitch?"

"Bad memories."

"Of what?"

"My flute being stuck up where the sun don't shine."

"…"

"What? I was drunk."

"…"

"…I cleaned it afterwards!"

"…um…okay." Andy suddenly felt very uncomfortable. She wanted this practice to end. But how? She wasn't going to let them out until they got this song right… there was only one way.

"Okay, guys, look, if we practice good, we play good, right?"

"Yeah…" the band looked as if they had heard this speech a million times before… which was essentially.

"And if we play good, we get to regionals, right?"

"Yeah…god damn…"

"And if we make it to regionals, we get to miss school. A lot of school."

"!"

As Andy stepped down from the podium to reload her gun, she stopped. The band had started playing in perfect unison… in perfect tune… and, well, pretty damn good.

When the song was over, Andy was stunned. "H-how…the…fuck…"

"Ha ha, bitch! We don't suck!" Cameron yelled to Andy

The paramedics once again rushed into the band room to treat Cameron's two gunshot wounds.

End

Next Lesson: Trumpets are always right!

Justin: So? Whaddya think? Please review! But go easy on me…. This is the first story I've ever written that wasn't done for school.And it was co-written by a drum major,and if you say anything bad about them, they willfind you.I know things kinda felt too rushed, and it was really short, but it will get better! And Cameron gets shot again. That's always good. For he is a fetus.