Disclaimer: I don't own band. But then again, I don't think anyone else does either. I do own a nice shiny buffet clarinet. That has to count for something.
A/N: I created this story during the thrid quarter of a game last year. It was completely impromtu, I was hyper at the time, and I just kept introducing new instruments and saying things that I thought would make my friends laugh. Because of how it was created, it is in no way a demonstration of common sterotypes of instruments (I don't know enough about that anyway). I would also like it to be known that this is NOT a description of my band director. He is the best band director in the world and would not deserve this. Enjoy!
Blow into it!
An old band director entered a room full of kids who wanted to join band. He was pushing a wheel barrow with boxes and cases in it. He stopped as he approached the line of kids and set the wheel barrow down.
"So you lot want to join band?" he said.
There were a couple of nods and one tentative "yes" from the 'lot'. The old band director snorted, surveying the kids. Then he started shifting though the contents in his wheel barrow, finally pulling out a case about the size of a laptop. He walked over to one of the girls and placed the case in her lap.
"This is a clarinet," he said. "Blow into it!"
The girl stared at him in shock, and again he said, "Blow into it!"
The girl looked down at the case and said, "What? Into the box?"
"No, blow into it!" demanded the old band director.
"Blow into what? It's just a box."
"Blow into it!"
A boy sitting beside the girl nudged her with his elbow and pointed at two clasps which were holding the case closed. The girl flipped them open and then opened the case. Inside, there were five, black, wooden pieces which obviously needed to be put together in order to form the clarinet.
"Blow into it!" the old band director urged again.
The girl looked up at him, flabbergasted.
"Blow into what?" she said again. "There are five parts."
"Blow into it!" the old band director said, by the note in his voice, losing patience. Annoyed, and very disturbed by his behavior, the girl grabbed one of the five pieces (the bell), and placing it on her lips, blew into it. A few people who were close by could hear her blowing, but it was obvious to everyone that no music had been made.
"No, you're doing it wrong! Blow into it!" the old band director said.
"I don't know what you mean," said the girl, beginning to raise her voice. "You keep telling me to blow into it, but you're not explaining anything. I've never played an instrument in my life. How do you expect me to know what to do," the girl looked down at the bell in her hand and the other four parts still in the case, "or even how to put it together if you haven't shown me how to do anything?"
The old band director's shoulders had gone tense, but he didn't tell the girl to go to the office or that she was in trouble for arguing with him. Instead, he said, "Oh, you're hopeless." Then the old band director went back to his wheel barrow and pulled out another case. This one was smaller and a bit longer. He handed it to another girl in the room.
"Blow into it!" he said.
The girl's face went pink at having been chosen next, and her hands shook a bit, but she was smart enough to realize that the old band director didn't mean for her to blow into the box. She opened it to find four silver pieces inside.
"It's a flute," said the old band director, "Blow into it!"
The girl picked up one of the longer pieces, trying to figure out where she was supposed to blow. There were many keys which, when pressed down, would open or close various holes along the flutes' length. Holding the section of the flute gingerly so that none of the keys were pressed, the girl sat there and tried to decide which end to blow into.
"Blow into it!" the old band director stressed.
The girl with the flute winced. Finally, she put the piece up to her mouth as if to blow.
"No!" said the old band director before she could blow, "Are you stupid or something? That's not where you're supposed to blow. I told you to blow into it!"
The girl let her hands fall into her lap, clutching the piece of the flute. Her lips were pressed together and her eyes began to water. The old band director noticed this. Disgusted that she was about to start crying, he turned back to his wheel barrow without another word. The next moment, he pulled a much larger case out and was lugging it to the other side of the room. He sat it on the floor in front of a boy who just raised his eyebrows.
"Blow into it!" said the old band director.
The boy shrugged his shoulders and opened the case.
"Ooh! A saxophone!" the boy said as soon as the case was open.
The old band director puffed out his cheeks in anger. He didn't like it when the kids knew things. After a moments silence, he said, "Blow into it!"
The boy pulled out the sax and put its mouthpiece in the correct place.
"Is that right?" asked the boy.
The old band director looked as if he had been readying himself to yell "Blow into it!" but at the boy's question, he let the air out in a rush. Then he said smugly, "No!"
"Well, I'm not going to blow into anything unless it's going to work," said the boy. "Cool sax though." He began to rummage around in the case, pulling out various objects. "Which one of these am I supposed to use?"
"The reed," said the old band director before storming away.
The boy turned to one of his friends, shrugging, and said, "What's a reed?"
The old band director was too fast for them though. He had already pulled another case from his wheel barrow and was now thrusting it at the sax boy's friend.
"Blow into it!" he bellowed.
The small boy flipped open the case extravagantly and pulled out two pieces of a brass instrument.
"It's a trombone," said the old band director. "Blow into it!"
Brass clanged on brass as the boy struggled to figure out how the two pieces went together. The boy with the sax reached over to help.
"My dad has one of these," he said, sliding the two pieces together. "Don't forget the mouthpiece."
"Aaah!" said the old band director, "Just blow into it!"
The small boy put the mouthpiece to his mouth, and the first bit of music reached everyone's ears.
"Good, now push it out all of the way and keep blowing!" said the old band director.
The small boy grabbed the slide and pushed it as far as he could.
"No!" shouted the old band director. "That's not far enough! Are you stupid?" Then he grabbed the slide himself and pulled it nearly off the trombone as the boy blew. "Now pull it back in."
The small boy made as if to grab the slide, but he couldn't reach it. The note faded as he stopped playing and slid the slide back on all the way.
"What'd you do that for? Blow into it!"
"No!" said the boy. "I can't reach all the way and you're just a mean old man."
The old band director looked as if his eyes were going to pop out of his head, but he simply went back to his wheel barrow. Two seconds later, he had dragged the largest case of all over to another boy.
"This is a tuba. Blow into it!"
This boy took one look at the case, and then his face broke into a scowl.
"I don't want to play the tuba!" he said. Then, to stress his point, he stood up and gave the case a good kick.
"What are you doing?" yelled the old band director, "Blow into it!"
"No!"
"Blow into it!"
"No!" Again, the boy kicked the tuba case in anger.
"Argh! Fine! You can just not be in band," the old band director said, stomping back to his wheel barrow. He pulled out a case about the same size as the sax case had been. He sat it down before another boy.
"This is a trumpet. It's often the most popular instrument in the band. Blow into it!"
The boy's face lit up at this, and he practically threw the case open. He took out the trumpet and hugged it to himself.
"Blow into it!" barked the old band director.
"I'm popular!" said the boy.
"What? Blow into it I say!"
"I'm popular. I'm popular!" said the boy, standing up and holding the trumpet up for everyone to see. Many of the other kids giggled.
"Sit down and blow into it!" said the old band director.
At this, the boy stood up on his chair and began to dance around in a circle, thrusting his trumpet into the air.
"I'm popular! I'm popular!" he sang loudly.
"Get down from there! Stop that! Blow into it!" The old band director was screaming and red in the face, but the boy was in his own fantasy.
"I'm popular! I'm popular!" he said.
The old band director turned stiffly away. He took a big, round case from his wheel barrow and forcefully dropped it in front of the girl who was closest to the wheel barrow. The case fell open as it landed on the floor.
"Blow on it!" the old band director yelled.
"What!" said the girl, "but that's a drum."
"Blow on it!"
"You've got to be kidding! It's a drum! I'm not stupid you know. Where are my sticks?"
"Blow on it!"
The girl could tell that the old band director was about to explode, and she would rather that he exploded at someone else, so she blew on the drum.
"Blow harder!"
The girl blew harder, but she also leaned far over the drum and tapped it with her finger so that the old band director couldn't see.
"Was that hard enough?" she asked.
The old band director raised his eyebrows, but he didn't know what to say so he went back to his wheel barrow.
"I'm popular! I'm popular!" yelled the trumpet boy.
The old band director pretended like he couldn't hear or see the boy with the trumpet. He pulled a rather large case out of the wheel barrow and took it to a boy sitting near the wall.
"This is a baritone, also known as a euphonium. Blow into it!"
The boy opened up the case and took just one look at the instrument inside. "So is it called a barryone or a youphone?" he asked snidely.
"What? It's not called either! Just blow into it!"
"Why?" asked the boy.
"Blow into it!"
"But why?"
"Because I told you to. Blow into it!"
With a smirk on his face, the boy pulled the baritone out of the case, and sticking his face in the bell, said "Blow into it!"
The old band director clenched his fists, his eyes widening. Many students in the room squirmed uncomfortably in their seats, scared of what he might do.
"I'm popular! I'm popular!" sang the trumpet boy, apparently unaware of the tension in the room.
"That's it!" yelled the old band director. He went over to his wheel barrow and tipped it onto the floor. "If none of you are smart enough to blow into your instruments, then just take them and go. Don't come back if you don't want to, I don't care. Just pick any one and leave!"
The students looked at him, stunned. Then the boy who had been given the tuba to play stood up, picked up a case from the floor and left the room. Many other students began to leave the room as fast as they could, some with and some without instruments. Before long, the room had been almost completely evacuated. Even the abandoned tuba had been picked up by a student. The trumpet boy left with his trumpet, forgetting his case behind and still singing aloud "I'm popular! I'm popular!"
And then one boy was left. No more cases remained on the floor. Looking sad, and oddly not afraid of the old band director, he said "I want to play an instrument. There aren't any left though."
"Do you think I care?" asked the old band director.
"But I want to play an instrument! Don't you have anything?"
The old band director looked in the wheel barrow and then pulled out the only thing remaining.
The boy gasped in delight. "I get to play triangle! Yay, I get to play triangle!"
The old band director thrust the triangle at the boy. "Blow into it!" he yelled. The boy did no such thing though. With a smile on his face, he left the room.
A/N: I would just like to appologize to baritone and euphonium players. I realize that they aren't exactly the same thing, but I wasn't aware of this when I created this story, and I didn't want to change that part.