It's late, and I'm bored. that must mean it's time for. (wait for it). More
orchestra madness!! Whoohoo!
Behold:
School is out. Meg the cellist, alone and without her dear Scrawny Lad, finds solace in the company of none other than The Macho Lad. The new cello. The BETTER cello. The shiny, happy, look-at-me-I-show-your- reflection-even-if-you're-extremely-ugly-like-Chris-Klein cello.
"The plane is leaving, it's leaving, it's." the Euphonium is cut off, for unaccompanied brass paraphernalia is not allowed near the baggage claim. At this moment the Euphonium felt like a cast-off cheese hunk, a glass of cider left beside the anthill to ferment and fill with drowning ants. It's moments like this when post-its come in handy.
Meg boarded the plane, and was inexplicably unaware of the mass of Texan band students pushing and rummaging and shoving their evil little way to their seats. No, could it be? Are the nasssty band kids from Texas going to sit beside poor cellist Meg? No, preciousss, we hatesss them, nasssty band kidsss!
Please, at this time, do not brutally disembowel Meg the cellist. She knows no better. She has never experienced the awe-inspiring atmosphere of the band room, the hoarse and whiny call of the trumpet, the laughter of the geeky glasses-wearing freckly first chair kids. It is all a mystery to her.
And when Meg came to her seat, she was pelted with the high-pitched screechy voices of dreaded kids from band! Austin band, no less! One could have compared this situation to the feeling you get when you watch Dracula 2000 for the first time because the sound of a 'vampire hunter from London' appeals to you, and ten minutes into the movie, you realize that you were horribly mistaken and that this movie is really just an excuse to fling a leech into somebody's eye; or to make you wonder why on earth you're eating sherbet, which is rather similar to a leech, or blood, if you take away the cold-ness and everything else about sherbet and add features similar to a leech, or blood. And Dracula isn't even hot! (But the vampire hunter is.)
This is how Meg felt. (WHAT?!)
But the Euphonium felt even worse, wedged between a fat woman and her luggage. Wait, that wasn't a fat woman. That was a shopping cart. Silly Euphonium. It needs glasses, clearly.
But the Euphonium takes no crap from the general public. It merely takes crap from fancy-pants, such as Gandalf, the Best Buy tag, Princess Zelda, Mr. Darcy (who isn't even a fancy-pants), Robert Plant, Rincewind the 'wizzard', Death, Pinocchio, and Metatron the Voice of God. So don't mess with the Euphonium unless you are one of the afore-mentioned.
Bwahahahaaaaaa!
It appears as though Meg the cellist has fallen asleep in her plane seat, and is ignoring the band kids and their nasssty ways. Stop it, stop it! They're computer geeks, all of them!
It's a pity James isn't here to tell us the time. James, what is the time? James?
"I hate you all!" screamed the Euphonium. For some reason it was wearing a hat of cheese. Serves it right.
Behold:
School is out. Meg the cellist, alone and without her dear Scrawny Lad, finds solace in the company of none other than The Macho Lad. The new cello. The BETTER cello. The shiny, happy, look-at-me-I-show-your- reflection-even-if-you're-extremely-ugly-like-Chris-Klein cello.
"The plane is leaving, it's leaving, it's." the Euphonium is cut off, for unaccompanied brass paraphernalia is not allowed near the baggage claim. At this moment the Euphonium felt like a cast-off cheese hunk, a glass of cider left beside the anthill to ferment and fill with drowning ants. It's moments like this when post-its come in handy.
Meg boarded the plane, and was inexplicably unaware of the mass of Texan band students pushing and rummaging and shoving their evil little way to their seats. No, could it be? Are the nasssty band kids from Texas going to sit beside poor cellist Meg? No, preciousss, we hatesss them, nasssty band kidsss!
Please, at this time, do not brutally disembowel Meg the cellist. She knows no better. She has never experienced the awe-inspiring atmosphere of the band room, the hoarse and whiny call of the trumpet, the laughter of the geeky glasses-wearing freckly first chair kids. It is all a mystery to her.
And when Meg came to her seat, she was pelted with the high-pitched screechy voices of dreaded kids from band! Austin band, no less! One could have compared this situation to the feeling you get when you watch Dracula 2000 for the first time because the sound of a 'vampire hunter from London' appeals to you, and ten minutes into the movie, you realize that you were horribly mistaken and that this movie is really just an excuse to fling a leech into somebody's eye; or to make you wonder why on earth you're eating sherbet, which is rather similar to a leech, or blood, if you take away the cold-ness and everything else about sherbet and add features similar to a leech, or blood. And Dracula isn't even hot! (But the vampire hunter is.)
This is how Meg felt. (WHAT?!)
But the Euphonium felt even worse, wedged between a fat woman and her luggage. Wait, that wasn't a fat woman. That was a shopping cart. Silly Euphonium. It needs glasses, clearly.
But the Euphonium takes no crap from the general public. It merely takes crap from fancy-pants, such as Gandalf, the Best Buy tag, Princess Zelda, Mr. Darcy (who isn't even a fancy-pants), Robert Plant, Rincewind the 'wizzard', Death, Pinocchio, and Metatron the Voice of God. So don't mess with the Euphonium unless you are one of the afore-mentioned.
Bwahahahaaaaaa!
It appears as though Meg the cellist has fallen asleep in her plane seat, and is ignoring the band kids and their nasssty ways. Stop it, stop it! They're computer geeks, all of them!
It's a pity James isn't here to tell us the time. James, what is the time? James?
"I hate you all!" screamed the Euphonium. For some reason it was wearing a hat of cheese. Serves it right.
