Chapter Three: Mr. Bachelor?
A couple of hours later, calmness had been restored on the prisoners of the bandhall. The brilliant flutes had devised a plan to keep the trumpets and tubas from wetting their pants and having heart attacks. The tubas had been locked in the tuba room with Ken, and the trumpets had likewise been locked in the sink/Loading Crew room with Aimee. There had been enough towels in the sink room (usually used to dry off the brass instruments during marching season) to provide a makeshift couch for each panicking brass member, and therapy sessions had begun. The woodwinds were secretly hoping that the locks would get jammed on those doors, as well. They would lose Aimee, but they knew she could handle herself, and it was a sacrifice they were willing to make.
Everyone was doing his or her best to remain calm. It wasn't that hard when someone had pointed out that they spent their lives in there anyway, what's a couple more hours? This seemed to make perfect sense to all the Band Nerds.
"I can't believe Mr. Bachelor is still out cold," Sandy commented to the Flute Huddle.
"Seriously. That must have been one hard fall. Or the reality of having to spend five more minutes with us sent him into a coma!" Katie exclaimed. Although it WAS a funny joke, and Mr. Bachelor was the band director, everyone hoped this wasn't true. There WAS a good side to every Band Nerd. It was kinda like how they all complained about band to "outsiders," but looked at their friends like they had just sprouted three heads when they suggested they quit.
"Maybe we should check on him. I mean, if he's in a coma, we should at least try to tell Mr. McAdow to see if anyone is out there to call 911!" Sarah, the sympathetic flute spoke up.
This seemed to be an ok plan, so they made their way through the circles of Band Nerds obstructing their path to the uniform room, where they had dragged Mr. Bachelor so he could have some privacy in case he woke up and realized that he had passed out in front of the band (it was the only room without a window.) Katie reached for the doorknob, and was about to just barge in, when Sarah spoke up again. "Maybe we should knock first," she said weakly.
All the flutes sighed in exasperation. "FINE!" Jenny said. She knocked very dramatically to make Sarah happy.
There was no reply.
"Mr. Bachelor, are you in there?" Sarah called, sounding concerned.
Still, no reply.
"That must mean he's still out. Let's go in and see if he looks like he needs anything," Sandy suggested.
All the flutes agreed. Katie reached for the doorknob again, and turned.
All the Band Nerds looked up, startled, when they heard a scream and some shouts from the door of the uniform room.
"IT'S LOCKED!!!"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
"WHAT'S GOING ON!?!?!?!"
"SHUT-UP!!!"
All the flutes promptly stopped freaking out when they heard Lindsay, a former DI (drill instructor). "Look, all we have to do is find some way to get in. Obviously one of you just forgot to undo the lock before we shut the door. There's no reason to panic!" she continued calmly and authoritatively.
"It's a good thing the trumpets and tubas aren't out here or they'd freak out again," Sandy, the only "non-screamer" muttered under her breath.
Lindsay piled up a couple of marching glove boxes and climbed on top. "Ok, guys, does anyone know how we could get the uniform room door unlocked?"
No one was very surprised when Andrew, a euphonium player and a member of the Loading Crew, spoke up. "I DO! I have a brand new computerized fiber-optic door laser that can melt through the knob and then melt the lock, too! And then I can put it back together when we get in the room! Hang on a sec, lemme just get it from my horn case!" Andrew shouted back at Lindsay.
Andrew had, literally, 20 inches of junk in his marching case. Although he treated his concert horn like a pile of diamonds (only touching the valves, he always used a cloth to hold the horn with his other hand), his marching horn was a completely different story. It took all the brunt of the usual mistreatment of a marching horn and the mistreatment the concert horn would have received. It was also the place you could find just about anything you needed. Including computerized fiber-optic door lasers.
Andrew made his way through the bandhall. Once he had reached the door to the uniform room (and shoved his way through the extremely nervous flutes) he pulled a futuristic device out of his pocket. Flipping a switch on the side, it began to glow blue as its power source illuminated the glass window on the front. Andrew placed a metal point protruding from the front against the smooth silver doorknob and pushed a red button on the side. Instantly, lights began to flash, and a beam shot out of the metal device. The beam, yellow and bright, slowly worked a hole through the knob. Suddenly, a muffled click resounded from the other side of the door.
"All done, it's through!" Andrew informed the flutes cheerfully. He flipped the switch on the side of the laser and the blue glow hummed into darkness. Sarah stepped tentatively forward, and turned the knob. Pushing the door open, she coughed as smoke from the laser poured out of the crack between the door and its jam. It gave everyone the feeling that they were excavating an ancient tomb.
Katie pushed her way into the room and flipped the light switch. "Oh, man, Andy, you're gonna have a BIG mess to clean up! I hope you don't think I'M gonna do it!" Katie called from in the uniform room. "Uh. Guys?" She called.
"Yeah?" someone said from the other side of the door. Scanning the entire room, Katie thought something was definitely strange. She had been the one who had closed the door, and she hadn't locked it, she knew she hadn't. In fact, she had made sure she DIDN'T lock it. (She had heard the stories of a couple flutes accidentally locking their instruments into the uniform room right before a sectional rehearsal when the door had shut behind them.) And unless Mr. Bachelor had woken up and crawled underneath the racks of concert "curtains" and band suspender pants,
"We didn't put Mr. Bachelor under the tuxes, did we?" Katie called. "'Cause if we didn't, he ain't in here!"
"WHAT?!?!?!?!" the entire group of flutes yelped.
"MR. BACHELOR IS GONE!!!!!!!" the cry was picked up by the french horns, and carried all the way through the brass section. All except for the tubas. They were crying again. (It was just the luck of the entire band that the trumpets and tubas, finally calmed, had emerged from their respective therarpy rooms finally calmed down just in time to hear this terrifying news.)
Katie rolled her eyes. 'Why does every single installment of our lovely story have to end in chaos? I don't understand it," she sighed inwardly. Looking expectantly at the Dumb Major, she found several people doing the same thing.
Avoiding everyone's eyes (and trying to block out the screaming tubas), Ken slid against the wall and slumped to the floor. Putting his head in his hands, he faintly mumbled "I give up, I give up, I give up."
Great, now what were they gonna do?
A/N: I am the sorriest a person could be on the face of this planet for taking over a month to get the third chapter out. I know everyone's experienced writer's block before, but this is the WORST I think I've EVER had it. I got a couple ideas up my sleeve, though, (Jeff Barnhill-be sure to watch for the french horns next time, I've got something planned juuuuuuuust for you. Mwaahahahahaa.) and chapter four should definitely be not as long in coming. I know I've probably lost all my readers, but if you guys are out there, don't give up on me! I'm back! I sorta got a little carried away with my HP fanfics, but I'munna try really really hard to get this one back on track. And besides, don't you guys wanna know where Mr. B. went? LoL. Thanks to everyone who reviewed since last time: CHSTromboneQueen, TrumpetGal4Eva, ellipsis, Andromeda, EvaAmorra, Melodi, Tree, Carolina, uog, the ultimateSora, and Jeff Barnhill!!! No, uog, I don't go to La Canada High School. Anyways, ttfn!
-Mitie Mouse
A couple of hours later, calmness had been restored on the prisoners of the bandhall. The brilliant flutes had devised a plan to keep the trumpets and tubas from wetting their pants and having heart attacks. The tubas had been locked in the tuba room with Ken, and the trumpets had likewise been locked in the sink/Loading Crew room with Aimee. There had been enough towels in the sink room (usually used to dry off the brass instruments during marching season) to provide a makeshift couch for each panicking brass member, and therapy sessions had begun. The woodwinds were secretly hoping that the locks would get jammed on those doors, as well. They would lose Aimee, but they knew she could handle herself, and it was a sacrifice they were willing to make.
Everyone was doing his or her best to remain calm. It wasn't that hard when someone had pointed out that they spent their lives in there anyway, what's a couple more hours? This seemed to make perfect sense to all the Band Nerds.
"I can't believe Mr. Bachelor is still out cold," Sandy commented to the Flute Huddle.
"Seriously. That must have been one hard fall. Or the reality of having to spend five more minutes with us sent him into a coma!" Katie exclaimed. Although it WAS a funny joke, and Mr. Bachelor was the band director, everyone hoped this wasn't true. There WAS a good side to every Band Nerd. It was kinda like how they all complained about band to "outsiders," but looked at their friends like they had just sprouted three heads when they suggested they quit.
"Maybe we should check on him. I mean, if he's in a coma, we should at least try to tell Mr. McAdow to see if anyone is out there to call 911!" Sarah, the sympathetic flute spoke up.
This seemed to be an ok plan, so they made their way through the circles of Band Nerds obstructing their path to the uniform room, where they had dragged Mr. Bachelor so he could have some privacy in case he woke up and realized that he had passed out in front of the band (it was the only room without a window.) Katie reached for the doorknob, and was about to just barge in, when Sarah spoke up again. "Maybe we should knock first," she said weakly.
All the flutes sighed in exasperation. "FINE!" Jenny said. She knocked very dramatically to make Sarah happy.
There was no reply.
"Mr. Bachelor, are you in there?" Sarah called, sounding concerned.
Still, no reply.
"That must mean he's still out. Let's go in and see if he looks like he needs anything," Sandy suggested.
All the flutes agreed. Katie reached for the doorknob again, and turned.
All the Band Nerds looked up, startled, when they heard a scream and some shouts from the door of the uniform room.
"IT'S LOCKED!!!"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
"WHAT'S GOING ON!?!?!?!"
"SHUT-UP!!!"
All the flutes promptly stopped freaking out when they heard Lindsay, a former DI (drill instructor). "Look, all we have to do is find some way to get in. Obviously one of you just forgot to undo the lock before we shut the door. There's no reason to panic!" she continued calmly and authoritatively.
"It's a good thing the trumpets and tubas aren't out here or they'd freak out again," Sandy, the only "non-screamer" muttered under her breath.
Lindsay piled up a couple of marching glove boxes and climbed on top. "Ok, guys, does anyone know how we could get the uniform room door unlocked?"
No one was very surprised when Andrew, a euphonium player and a member of the Loading Crew, spoke up. "I DO! I have a brand new computerized fiber-optic door laser that can melt through the knob and then melt the lock, too! And then I can put it back together when we get in the room! Hang on a sec, lemme just get it from my horn case!" Andrew shouted back at Lindsay.
Andrew had, literally, 20 inches of junk in his marching case. Although he treated his concert horn like a pile of diamonds (only touching the valves, he always used a cloth to hold the horn with his other hand), his marching horn was a completely different story. It took all the brunt of the usual mistreatment of a marching horn and the mistreatment the concert horn would have received. It was also the place you could find just about anything you needed. Including computerized fiber-optic door lasers.
Andrew made his way through the bandhall. Once he had reached the door to the uniform room (and shoved his way through the extremely nervous flutes) he pulled a futuristic device out of his pocket. Flipping a switch on the side, it began to glow blue as its power source illuminated the glass window on the front. Andrew placed a metal point protruding from the front against the smooth silver doorknob and pushed a red button on the side. Instantly, lights began to flash, and a beam shot out of the metal device. The beam, yellow and bright, slowly worked a hole through the knob. Suddenly, a muffled click resounded from the other side of the door.
"All done, it's through!" Andrew informed the flutes cheerfully. He flipped the switch on the side of the laser and the blue glow hummed into darkness. Sarah stepped tentatively forward, and turned the knob. Pushing the door open, she coughed as smoke from the laser poured out of the crack between the door and its jam. It gave everyone the feeling that they were excavating an ancient tomb.
Katie pushed her way into the room and flipped the light switch. "Oh, man, Andy, you're gonna have a BIG mess to clean up! I hope you don't think I'M gonna do it!" Katie called from in the uniform room. "Uh. Guys?" She called.
"Yeah?" someone said from the other side of the door. Scanning the entire room, Katie thought something was definitely strange. She had been the one who had closed the door, and she hadn't locked it, she knew she hadn't. In fact, she had made sure she DIDN'T lock it. (She had heard the stories of a couple flutes accidentally locking their instruments into the uniform room right before a sectional rehearsal when the door had shut behind them.) And unless Mr. Bachelor had woken up and crawled underneath the racks of concert "curtains" and band suspender pants,
"We didn't put Mr. Bachelor under the tuxes, did we?" Katie called. "'Cause if we didn't, he ain't in here!"
"WHAT?!?!?!?!" the entire group of flutes yelped.
"MR. BACHELOR IS GONE!!!!!!!" the cry was picked up by the french horns, and carried all the way through the brass section. All except for the tubas. They were crying again. (It was just the luck of the entire band that the trumpets and tubas, finally calmed, had emerged from their respective therarpy rooms finally calmed down just in time to hear this terrifying news.)
Katie rolled her eyes. 'Why does every single installment of our lovely story have to end in chaos? I don't understand it," she sighed inwardly. Looking expectantly at the Dumb Major, she found several people doing the same thing.
Avoiding everyone's eyes (and trying to block out the screaming tubas), Ken slid against the wall and slumped to the floor. Putting his head in his hands, he faintly mumbled "I give up, I give up, I give up."
Great, now what were they gonna do?
A/N: I am the sorriest a person could be on the face of this planet for taking over a month to get the third chapter out. I know everyone's experienced writer's block before, but this is the WORST I think I've EVER had it. I got a couple ideas up my sleeve, though, (Jeff Barnhill-be sure to watch for the french horns next time, I've got something planned juuuuuuuust for you. Mwaahahahahaa.) and chapter four should definitely be not as long in coming. I know I've probably lost all my readers, but if you guys are out there, don't give up on me! I'm back! I sorta got a little carried away with my HP fanfics, but I'munna try really really hard to get this one back on track. And besides, don't you guys wanna know where Mr. B. went? LoL. Thanks to everyone who reviewed since last time: CHSTromboneQueen, TrumpetGal4Eva, ellipsis, Andromeda, EvaAmorra, Melodi, Tree, Carolina, uog, the ultimateSora, and Jeff Barnhill!!! No, uog, I don't go to La Canada High School. Anyways, ttfn!
-Mitie Mouse