Funky Drummer Demons
Chapter 5 – The Godfather's Battle

"The gathering storm is about to break." -Nelson Demille's 'Cathedral'
"Remind me again why we're doing this? And in Shorty's car, no less?" Snitch whined, staring out the car window. Swinger turned the '93 Oldsmobile Bravada onto a different street, just missing the curb. "Hey, learn to drive! I'm not a cat, you know!"
"Calm down, Snitch. You're alive, ain't ya?" She swung the vehicle into the parking lot of the Marshall Veterinary Hospital.
"You still haven't answered my question."
Swinger sighed. "Because we promised Shorty we'd ALL come to get her from work so we could go to the meeting at Godfathers. 'Member?"
"Yay." Snitch climbed out of the Bravada, waving to the others as they pulled up. Mallets' car screeched to a stop beside the Bravada, making the '89 Silver Buick jerk a couple times. He hopped out and went to the trunk, popping it open to reveal a fuming, disheveled Bridge. Swinger and Snitch stared at him in utter shock, mouths hanging open.
"What? She pissed us off." Mallets grinned, turning back to talk with the rest of the carload. The final vehicle of the group pulled up, the bass booming and the people inside "dancing". The 15-passenger van, colorfully decorated and extremely old, had acquired the name 'Pootermobile' by former drummers of MHS. So far, no one could figure out what it meant.
"Been beat up, been broken down, no where but up when you're face- down on the ground, I'm in last place, if a place at all, but there's hope for this underdog. That's the way, uh huh we like it, that's the way, uh huh we like it, they call me the underdog!" Sparks climbed out of the driver's seat, singing the song at the top of her lungs. The rest of the drum line climbed out, chatting happily and acting as crazy as any other high schooler.
"I won't even ask." Vennie led the way into the building, following the loud music coming from the back room.
"Hey, I thought Vet clinics were supposed to play that annoying elevator music?" Boots asked.
"Yeah, and you were supposed to wait up front for someone to come get you," Mem echoed.
"You obviously haven't seen Shorty at work." They entered a narrow hallway lined with doors. At the end of the hallway a door stood open, light and sound bursting from it. Snickers rose from the group as they saw Shorty "at work".
"What good is melody? What good is music? If it ain't possessing something sweet. Now it ain't the melody. And it ain't the music. There's something else that makes this tune complete, YES! It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing! Well it don't mean a thing all you got to do is sing!" Shorty jitterbugged around the room, oblivious to everything around her. A bucket of soapy water sat in a corner out of the way; a portable CD player sitting in an empty cage. The mop that was supposed to be cleaning the floor was being used as a makeshift dance partner. Every few seconds she'd calm down and continue mopping the floor. But soon she'd be dancing again, slipping and sliding on the slippery floor.
"What is she doing?" Riddle asked, face red from containing his laughter. His girlfriend, Bourbon, had long ago given up the fight and was on the floor, rolling in hysterics.
"Swing dancin'!" Swinger exclaimed, dancing herself. Snitch laughed and joined in, doing the moves Swinger herself had taught him. Vennie shook her head, grinning as she returned her attention to Shorty. The girl had finally calmed down enough to finish her mopping, though an occasional line from the song burst from her along with a move.
"Hey Shorty! Do you want us to give you a little 'personal' time with that mop? We could come back later, you know." Shorty stopped where she was, bucket and mop in hand, and stared at the group. Her face could be compared to a tomato, though not as round.
"How...how long have you guys been there?" she asked, dumping the dirty mop water down the drain. Racetrack threw an arm around her shoulder, snickering under his breath.
"Long enough to see you and that mop burn up the floor. You two make quite a pair." Shorty shoved him, grinning.
"And to think I untapped you from the front door. Should have just left you in your boxers for my uncle to see. Or the maintenance man." Shorty put the bucket and mop away in the closet, raising an eyebrow at the short Italian boy. "Which would you have preferred?"
"Now, now, Shorty. Play nice. He was only complimenting you performance with the mop," The Ryan said, grinning.
"I love you all, too." They laughed, filing out of the room.
"You're really going to wear scrubs to Godfathers?" Itey asked Shorty as they left the building. Shorty stopped and gazed down at her at her bright orange scrubs. Her green '1981 SDSU Hobo Day' shirt showed at the collar, making it a very interesting outfit.
"And why not? I believe I'm making a fashion statement in this lovely outfit!" Kid Blink laughed, thinking she looked like a confused carrot.
"Sure Shorty, sure." Swinger moved to get into the driver's seat of Shorty's car, but it was not to be. Shorty ran past the girl and into her truck, quickly shutting the door and locking it.
"Hey! Not fair!"
"Is too fair! My truck, I drive." Swinger scowled, climbing into the back seat, Snitch following her. Demon claimed shotgun, and Peeping Tom climbed over Snitch and Swinger to hide in the way back. There were no seats in the way back, because the way back was made for storage and cargo. It was Peeping Tom's spot, and no one but him was allowed to sit there.
"And...we're off!"

"About time you guys get here. Where've you been?" Mr. P asked, checking his watch. The kids filed along the table, falling into their chairs and beginning new conversations.
"Vet Clinic. Shorty gets easily distracted when she mops," Irish said, receiving a smack to the head from the girl.
"So, what did you order P?" Bumlets asked, strategically placing balled up straw wrappers in people's water glasses.
"28 pops for you guys, a water for myself, four large cheese pizzas, four large pepperonis, a supreme, three family orders of breadsticks, and the bill to be given to Demon," Mr. P said, faking a look of exhaustion. Demon blew his straw wrapper at the drum teacher, laughing when it hit Mr. P in the forehead. Mr. P laughed, balling the wrapper up and tossing it at Kid Blink. And so things went on as they normally did. Insanity ensued, the pizzas were delivered, everyone gorged, and then leaned back after they finished, happily full.
"Alright, first order of business. Our first competition is this Saturday. I want you all to be at the school by 6 a.m., with everything loaded and ready to go by 6:30. We leave at 6:45 sharp, so you can sleep on the ride up. We play at noon." Mr. P crossed out the first thing on the notepad in front of him, quickly moving onto the second point. "Next, we need to decide what our outfits are going to be. What was our uniform last year?"
"Jeans and black shirts. Dull as crap, P," Bridge said, scowling at the memory of last years uniforms.
"Right. So, any ideas for this year?" The kids turned to look at Mem, who in turned blushed bright red.
"Actually, P, we have an idea. Mem designed a pretty awesome sketch of a demon and a snare, and we came up with a shirt to go with it." Vennie pulled out a folded piece of paper, unfolding it and passing it to the teacher. Two images and someone's chicken scratch met his gaze. The top part of the paper was titled "front", and the image of a demon madly playing the snare and the words "Funky Drummer Demons" circling it was sketched on the paper. The bottom half was labeled "back", with the words "nickname and quote" filling the space. Mr. P grinned, nodding in agreement.
"Very good, but what's the quote?"
"Chaos, panic and disorder. Our work here is done." Brownie replied. Mr. P laughed, handing the paper back to Vennie.
"Fits you guys to a T. So, what are you planning on wearing with the shirts? Oh, and who's going to order them?"
"They're already ordered. They should be done by Thursday, Friday at the latest," Sparks said.
"We were thinking about our gym shorts and a hat, any kind of hat." Mr. P raised an eyebrow, smirking.
"Gym shorts?"
"Yeah, like those nylon ones or whatever. But no black or white, only bright colors." Mr. P nodded in agreement, crossing off the second thing on his list.
"Alright, last thing. Shorty, you have your people all lined up?" An evil grin lit up Shorty's face, making a few people laugh.
"All lined up and ready. I have them wrapped around my little finger." The table erupted in laughter, making most of the other customer's scowl at them.

Silence. Complete, eerie, unusual silence. It filled the apartment, sinking into each person like a sponge soaking in water. Some call it the calm before the storm, a prelude to something massive. Whatever it was, it had taken hold of the drummers, making them edgy and alert. Something was about to happen, and everyone knew it.
It struck without warning, quick as lighting. But it wasn't over in a flash. It rumbled like thunder, growing louder and fiercer with each passing moment.
It began with Puck. While making his way to his room, he tripped on one of the many things that lay scattered on the floor. He fell, cracking heads with someone coming towards him. That person happened to be Spot.
"Watch where you're walking!" Spot growled, holding a hand to his aching head.
"Sorry!" Puck replied sarcastically, pushing past the Village leader. No sooner had he walked five feet he fell again, this time with the aid of someone on his back. They wrestled on the floor, crashing against walls and rolling over scattered objects. Their angry shouts roused the rest of the drum line. They ran to the boys, forming a ring around Spot and Puck.
"Guys! Stop!" Mush tried to pull the boys apart, receiving an elbow to the face for his efforts. He reeled back, crashing into Seeker.
"Get off me!" She shoved him hard, causing him to knock Runt over. Angered by this, Runt launched herself at Mush, missing him when he stumbled to the side. Instead she fell on Boots, rounding her punches on him.
And so the battle began. Brought on by an unknown tension, the drummers warred against one another; Villagers vs. Marshallites.

"Oh no you didn't!" The water balloon barely missed his head, the rubber bomb breaking against the wall behind him. People were fighting on the floor; someone were nursing wounds, while others launched attacks from behind the kitchen counter. The fight had spread from the hall to cover most of the living room, kitchen, and the hallway that the bedrooms were on.
Shorty had retreated to the roof, hauling her practice snare and sticks behind her. Demon tried to follow, but she locked the door behind her, and only the sound of her beating the snot out of her drum let him know she was upset. So Demon returned to try and stop the fray, barely escaping the fighting on the floor let alone aerial attacks. In the end he joined the Marshallites in the fight.
"Guys! Now what are you fighting for?" Josh yelled over the chaos, searching out one of the leaders. He found Spot wrestling with Puck near the couch, carefully pulling the fighting boys apart. They struggled to escape, each boy's face twisted in anger. "Whoa, slow down kiddies. What are you fighting about this time?"
"Let me at him!" Puck yelled, straining against Josh's hold. Suddenly Josh was ripped backward, landing on his back on the floor. Spot and Puck returned to wrestle, each screaming their anger. Josh found himself being pummeled by Jack, the older boy's fists coming in sharp contact with his face. He fought the older boy, finally pinning him to the floor.
"This has to stop! People are trying to sleep, we have school tomorrow, and you've got Shorty scared out of her mind, not to mention half the building ready to call the police." Cowboy slowed his struggles, realization sinking in. Though he continued to loath the Marshallites, what the junior had said made sense. Josh stood up, reaching out a hand to help him up. Jack accepted, frowning. He turned to look at the fray, his frown deepening.
"People! STOP!" Though it took a few minutes, the drum line ceased their battle, each looking up at Jack and Josh. "Everyone get to bed. No more fighting, no more arguing, no more talking period. I don't want to hear a word out of anyone, is that clear?" The group nodded, slowly getting up and shuffling towards their rooms. Josh sighed in relief, turning to look at Jack.
"Thank you. Now I can sleep." He turned to leave, pausing at the doorway to say, "Oh, and could you tell Demon that Shorty's spending the night with us?"
"Why is she over there?"
"She can't stand yelling, especially all out fights like this one was. She'll be fine in the morning, I promise you. Good night!" Josh closed the door behind him, leaving Jack alone in the large room. Jack shook his head, this mind reeling with thoughts and questions. It appeared that war was on the horizon, and things would only get worse before they got better.
Yes, I rewrote the ending to this chapter. Ven said it didn't make sense, so I went back and thought of something different. Hope ya liked it! Thank you all so much for your reviews and support. I've started work on chapter 6 already, so don't you worry. I've also got the entire story plotted out, including the epilogue. If you have anything you'd like for me to add to the story, or you have suggestions, drop a line. Don't care where; just drop it where I can find it. Oh, I must thank my muses. Jordan had quite a lot of fun adding her own little quips to this chapter. Go, review! Read more stories! Or I'll sic my muses on you!

The song that Shorty sings is "It Don't Mean a Thing..." by Duke Ellington (awesome song!). The song that Sparks sings is "Underdog" by Audio Adrenaline.