This one goes out to BandNerd97. I've never been anyone's hero before...
PS: If you haven't seen the movie, this is where I'll start to lose you.
After downing a couple stolen root beers, Guy ventured to pick up Bryce's Lyre. The image of a man wearing white socks with brown shoes and a black belt flashed before Guy's vision, followed by a splitting headache. Guy decided it wasn't such a hot idea to pick the Lyre up.
Slowly, a suspicion that had been weighing on the back of his mind came to light...
"Bryce?"
Franky stepped apprehensively into his cousin's apartment. All was silent, except for the ticking of a clock in the kitchen. With a start, he noticed Guy sitting in the living room, blowing the bubbles as he had done earlier. A bubbly replica of "The David" floated up from the wand. Franky made his way to Guy, but before he could melodramatically utter his name, a dull gleam caught the corner of his eye; Bryce's Lyre. He glanced at Guy, as if looking for reassurance, but all he got was an Eifel Tower in his face and a terrible burning sensation in his eyes. Guy muttered something that sounded like "Riddles in the Instrument Room", and then "My preciousss..." before Franky bent to pick up the Lyre.
It was quite a plain thing, even by the standards of Lyres. No company logo had been etched into it, no random name or obscenity scrawled.
"Yes, Franky. He's finally gone to get a higher education. He's left it to you. That thing you have there in your hand. And the whole place. And all the crap in it." Guy placed the bubble wand back in the bottle and pulled himself out of the chair. "Think you can handle it all?"
"Yes, but..."
Guy thrust a small wooden box before Franky. Franky gave Guy a questioning look with his watery blue eyes before slowly placing the Lyre amongst the folds of red velvet.
"Put that somewhere, where no one will see it."
Franky made his way to the kitchen and threw it in the silverwear drawer.
"Where are you going?"
"I've gotta see a guy about some stuff." Guy was making his way hurridly towards the door, a case of root beer under each arm.
"What kinda stuff?"
"Important stuff."
"But you just got here!" Franky paused as Guy was just about to go out the door. Then he said, rather meekly, "What the hell, Guy? What the hell?"
Guy sighed and turned. "Yeah, I don't get it either," he said, his voice and body wilting. "Keep it secret. Keep it safe."
A heavy rain pelted down upon the Football Field, and a anguished cry ripped through the air. "SAXTON! BACOOOOOON!"
Out from the Consession Stand, in a whirlwind of mad drumming, erupted the Nine Percussionists, led by the Drum Major of the Candy Bar. They were tall, dark, and handsome (except for the one, but he was at least dark and handsome)...but really, really terrible. Reeeeeeeeeally terrible. Really really really awesomely bad. And then some.