AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This fic is dedicated to Floppy, my partner in crime, and to Melissa, who was a fan of our fics. About a month and a half ago, she and another friend of ours were in a car accident. A drunk driver hit them on their way home from another friend's house. Melissa died, and Dora is being released from the hospital tomorrow. Please pray for them.

Also, this fic was inspired by Dani, who mentioned that in the movie Moulin Rouge, Zidler resembled our band director. Thus, "The Greatest Thing" was born. I don't know how college band works, but too bad. Enjoy the fic.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Moulin Rouge.

The Greatest Thing

By the Furby

Chapter 1: You Won't Fool the Children of the Revolution

Christian walked into the apartment building, holding a suitcase in one hand and a laptop computer in the other. He went up to the apartment he was going to be living in and prepared to meet his roommates. He knocked.

A tough-looking, moustached guy opened the door, closed his eyes, and dropped to the floor, snoring.

A short, also moustached buy holding a saxophone stepped over him and grinned at Christian. "So sorry about Jose. He's narcoleptic, but you get used to that pretty quickly. You must be Christian!"

"Call me Chris," he muttered, still off-centered by the narcoleptic guy asleep on the floor.

"And I am Travis-"

"Could you keep it DOWN!?" came a whiny, angry voice. "Some people are trying to practice!"

Travis smiled helplessly. "Audrey. He wants to be the clarinet section leader. Don't worry; he doesn't live here." Travis motioned towards Jose's snoring figure. "Would you be so kind." Christian assisted Travis in dragging Jose inside.

A prissy, sour-looking guy was berating two other men. "Why can't you play it RIGHT!" he wailed, stabbing his clarinet accusingly at one.

"Audrey, it sounds-" began the guy, who looked quite a bit like Moby.

"No! I can't DO this! You" --ponting at "Moby"-"Are presumptuous, you" -pointing at the other-"are a drunk, you" -whirling around to Travis-"are inept, and you" -to Jose-"are asleep! And who are YOU?!"

"Um, Christian." Christian nodded to the sheet music strewn across the floor. "What's this?"

"The clarinet solo for the marching show," replied Travis, smiling as ever. Audrey glared.

Christian looked the sheets over. "Doesn't look so hard. May I?" Audrey held his clarinet protectively, so Christian went to his suitcase and rummaged around until he found his own clarinet case. He ignored Audrey's grumbling, assembled the instrument, and played a few practice notes. He then flawlessly played the music. "How was that?" he asked the others.

Travis, "Moby", the drunk, and Jose, who had woken up, were staring in gape- jawed admiration. Audrey gave an angry sniff. "I quit!" he shouted, turning and walking out.

"That was incredible!" roared Jose.

"Are you joining band?" asked "Moby."

"I was hoping to."

"We'll have to take you to Zidler."

"Zidler?"

"The head director. I'm sure he'll agree! Oh," Travis interrupted himself. "By the way, this is Sammy," -he motioned to "Moby," who was holding a flute, "and Doc." The scruffy-looking drunk was holding a french horn in one hand and a can of Budweiser in the other.

"Are you in band?" Christian asked Jose.

"Pit," he replied, "Because of the."

"Narcolepsy," finished Travis, as Jose fell to the floor again. "Sammy, Doc, this is Christian, our new roommate."



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