A.N.: This fic is a parody of the first live action TMNT movie. I've wanted to write this for the longest time now. It's been over two years since the last time I've picked up the saxophone in a high school band, but there's some things about band you never forget. :) Anyways, the idea for a TMNT parody band came to me again just recently, so I'm going to blow the dust off my FFN account and pound this thing out while I have the spare time. Happy reading!

DISCLAIMER: "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Movie" is copyright of New Line Cinema Corporation, and Mirage Studios.

PROLOGUE

New York. The Big Apple. The Greatest City in the World. Pizza big enough to destroy a six-month diet in a single slice. Home of not just the best or worst baseball teams in the league, but both. Home of the new Jets football stadium and possibly the site of the next Olympic games (or will it be a Comcast vacant lot? Who knows?). Taxicab drivers have taken minimum-wage education to the next level, and now know one basic math concept: Taxi-speed-limit Traffic-speed-limit times 20. On that subject, musical education in New York is finally starting to flourish again, thanks to the influence of the thousands of art patrons all over the city. Only here can you find just as much music in the alleys and street corners as you would at Symphony Hall. Students need just to pick up the pieces left from the Harlem Renaissance, and they are blessed with the talents of the Gods, like Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Dizzy Gillespie, and 50 Cent.Yes sir, I love New York.

Unfortunately, this story doesn't take place in New York.

This story takes place in the armpit of New York.

The great state of New Jersey.

Jersey wasn't always a "Stink-pike" filled to the brim with garage bands, pop singers and Caucasian wanna-be rappers. For one brief moment, it had its time underneath the sparkling musical sun. And its name was Bon Jovi. But alas, it's no longer 1986, and the musical light has been hidden away by gigantic clouds of car exhaust, hairspray, and whatever other pollution is coming from the "Stink-pike". Luckily for us, Bon Jovi still pokes it's head up once in a while, or else Jersey would have long since been abandoned and left to sink to the bottom of the Atlantic.

And just beyond the screeching guitars and sputtering lyrics, there are the few, the VERY few, good musicians left in New Jersey. Oh, there are certainly plenty of mediocre wanna-be's, and more don't-wanna-be-but-my-mom-payed-a-grand-for-this-trumpet-and-hell-if-I'm-gonna-quit-now players, but once in a blue moon you'll find the student who is avid and serious about his music in his heart, and plays with his soul. These gifted few have finally put aside the differences of brass, woodwind, and percussion for a similar cause. Their mission: protect the high school from the evils of music, or get die trying. And win a few march-offs if they can.

CHAPTER 1

April paused as she finished packing the last of the recordings of the school's closed circuit TV. She knew she was going to be late for 1st period again; Charlie should have been here to take care of this. It was bad enough that she had to arrive at school early and give up homeroom just for her 15 minute news broadcast, but what really worried her was that she was going to have to traverse the school alone while everyone else was in class.

As she put the tapes away and locked the cabinet, her thoughts drifted back to her own report about the growing number of attacks on students in the hallways. The strangest thing was these attacks weren't physical, but musical. The attackers, as witnesses said, were usually boys but sometimes girls, and ranged all the way from seniors to junior high visitors. But all of them had one thing in common; musical retardation. The attackers would swarm their victims and sing, play or screech until their target was subdued with pure agony, then make off with anything and everything they wanted. The more dangerous ones would use their instruments as weapons, but luckily only as a threat to the victim should he attempt to call for help. Sometimes they would pull off normal acts of common thievery, using their music as a calling card. One thing was certain; this was much more than a series of isolated incidents.

April had noted in her report that the only place in the school that was silent in the onslaught of all this noise was the main office. There wasn't much the Vice Principal Stern could do about the musical crime wave. No attacker had yet to be identified, and the ancient English teacher assigned to the hallways couldn't move fast enough to catch any of them. He had even pulled the music education fund down to a mere trickle, but if anything the attacks grew after that.

So April had decided on taking a roundabout route to 1st period, even at the cost of being tardy. Finished with her work, she closed the door to the TV room behind her and locked it. She pushed her reddish-blonde hair out of her eyes, quickly glanced down both sides of the hallway, then sprinted to the other side, past two more classrooms, and into an unoccupied chemistry lab. She crossed the room to the windows and emergency exit into a courtyard. Noticing a drizzle of rain, she pulled a teacher's yellow lab coat over her sweater, then pushed through the door, scampered across the courtyard, and climbed through a hallway window she had left open when she first entered the school.

"Halfway there," she breathed. Glancing left and right down the halls again, she turned right this time, sprinting down the hall and through two intersections. Coming up on the third intersection, she slowed to a normal pace and caught her breath. Almost there. She turned left, passed two more classrooms, turned right, headed up a flight of stairs, turned left again at the top, and nearly collided with the Cowboys.

Now, how often does a New Jersian run into a cowboy on their own turf? Absolutely never. But thanks to the recent musical crime wave, the evil musicians were quickly running out of idols, and some groups, like this one, were taking drastic measures to be (somewhat) original. The Cowboys had learned of how much pain country music seems to inflict on people, especially on folks of the tri-state area, so they had put aside any self-respect they had left to play their part as the best, and only, country music singers in the high school. All five of them wore a ten-gallon hat, and the leader also sported a red bandanna around his neck. At the moment April arrived, they had used a guitar to pry open a locker and were in the process of looting it out. They all spun around, just a surprised to see her as she was to see them. The leader passed the packet of CDs he had been holding to one of his subordinates and took one menacing step forward towards April.

"Bad timing, little missy."

April gulped and gripped the borrowed lab coat. "You're telling me."

She did an about-face and bolted. But the Cowboys were packing more than musical instruments this time. She hadn't taken more than six steps before a lasso swung over her headandaround her arms. It's owner jerked at the rope, and the lasso pinned April's arms to her sides. Another jerk and she was pulled off her feet, right into the waiting arms of the leader.

She took in a breath, and the leader, anticipating her action, shoved his bandanna into her mouth before she could scream. The other Cowboys swarmed her, pulling at her purse and coat.

"I got her back pack!"

"Hold her! Let me get her watch!"

April struggled to pull her wrist free, but there wasn't much she could do, thanks to the rope. The Cowboy ripped her watch off, studied it for a moment, then turned to help the one rummaging through her purse. The other Cowboys began pulling at her coat and clothes, hoping to find more valuables on her. She tried to scream again, but all that came out was a muffled wail. 'God save me,' she prayed silently. 'Somebody help me.'

As if in answer, a shiny piece of metal whistled over their heads and crashed into the ceiling lights, plunging the hall into darkness. Startled, the Cowboys stopped pawing April, though their leader still held her down tightly. They all went dead silent, and sat still as statues. Just as confused as they were, April stopped struggling and pricked her ears up for any noise to identify the source of the metal projectile. She heard nothing, save for the tinkling of shattered glass from the light. She whimpered and began struggling again, begging for a rescuer.

The leader hissed and painfully pulled April's arm behind her. "Shut up, girl."

And then all hell broke loose.

Two of the cowboys yelled and clamped their hands over their ears as 'The Batman Theme' blasted on saxophone three feet to their left. Another went down as something hooked onto his sneaker and pulled his feet out from under him, falling into the fourth. The first Cowboy tried to make a break for his guitar, but a metal object struck him over the head and knocked him flat. The fourth cowboy pushed his comrade off of him and began yodeling. The saxophone stopped playing and something hard connected with the yodeler's mouth.

The leader roared and pushed shoved April away from him hard, right into the lockers. April's arm and head took the brunt of the impact, and she sat dazed for a moment, seeing stars. In fact, stars were all she could see; there was very little light coming in from outside due to the rain. She could barely make out the silhouettes of the five Cowboys and four others. The two Cowboys that had been struck lay flat on the ground. Three pairs of musicians battled each other with their music, their instruments, and every so often, their fists. The leader of the Cowboys had his hands full with two of the new musicians, one of which kept slapping hishands away from his guitar with a rat-a-tat-tat of sticks.

The other turned his attention away from the leader and to April. Leaving the one with the sticks to his own battle, he quickly closed the distance between them. April pushed her back against the lockers, frightened. He knelt and studied her for a second. As he grabbed the lasso that still bound her arms, April squeezed her eyes shut.

'This is it,' she thought. These boys may not be the Cowboys, but they were still a fighting musical group, and she'd bet they were one of the groups attacking students in the hallway. Fantastic, and the Cowboys had already done them a favor by tying and gagging her. Once the rest had finished off their rival group, they would do as they pleased with her, as this one was.

April moaned and prepared herself for the worst. But all she heard was dead silence once again.

Cautiously, she slowly opened her eyes. The other musicians had gone as quickly as they had come. She had been too frightened to notice that the boy had not been pulling her toward him, but lifting the lasso up and off her. It was now tying the Cowboys together in a circle in the middle of the floor. One of the Cowboys moaned. April's eyes grew wider as she realized the bandana had also been removed from her mouth without her noticing, and was now serving its purpose in this boy's.

The bell rang, making her jump. Classroom doors swung open, flooding the hall with light again. The noise level rose back up to a dull roar, then was squashed as all eyes fell on April.

Imagine the look on the student's faces when the found their news reporter trying to pick herself up off the floor, the containments of her purse and a nearby locker thrown everywhere, and a group of evil country musicians hog tied on the floor.

"Oh my God! What the hell happened!"

"Are you all right!"

"Christ! April, did you do this?"

Half an hour later, the ancient English teacher had filed her report to the main office (it took 29 minutes for her to get to the scene, and 1 to write a report) and, aided by a few other teachers, was slowly leading the bruised Cowboys to the nurse's office. The students had gone back to class, and the girl whose locker had been broken into had restocked and reshelved everything. The janitor was cleaning the glass from the broken light. April had called a few of her friends to help her find belongings that were still missing; she wasn't going to stay in that hall alone twice in one day.

As the last piece of chapstick was picked up, April started to head back to class with her friends, but the janitor called to her.

"S'cuse me! You forget something!"

April broke off from the group and jogged back. The janitor picked something out of the glass in his dustpan and handed it to her.

A trumpet mouthpiece.

April gawked, dumbfounded, at the mouthpiece. Is this what had saved her from the attack?

A pair of eyes watched her from one classroom door. They narrowed as the girl glanced at her waiting friends and quietly slipped the object into the back pocket of the lab coat.

"Damn it."

To be continued………….

And now, ladies and gents, my bribe for a review:

Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson go on a camping trip. After a good dinner they retired for the night and went to sleep. Some hours later, Holmes wakes up and nudges his faithful friend.

"Watson, look up at the sky and tell me what you see."

"I see millions and millions of stars, Holmes," Watson replies.

"And what do you deduce from that?"

Watson ponders for a minute. "Well, astronomically, it tells me there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Meteorologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. What does it tell you, Holmes?"

Holmes is silent for a moment. "Watson, you IDIOT!" he says. "Someone has stolen our tent!"

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