It was an ordinary day at Walver Valley. The band had their instruments out and ready. then the sound of an argument rose from the back. a tuba and bari sax were going at it. "We are the greatest in the base line", claimed the 1st chair tuba. "No, I am the best", responded the bari. The argument rose as other instruments joined in. The band was divided with brass on one side and woodwinds on the other. With a cry, a single baritone player drove his instrument down upon a clarinet and chaos broke loose. Instruments were flying and mscicians going down. at the center were the tubas, baritones, and trumpets. The tubas were sucking woodwind players into the vortex of their bells. Their souls were poured out of the spit valves in the form of TUBA JUICE!!! The baritones were blasting away anyone who got too close with their aura of high G. The trumpets swung their instruments like hammers, dealing out concussions. The woodwinds were running in fear when the conductor returned. He looked over the sight with stoney eyes. the bodies were hurridly disposed of and once again classresumed
Last edited by Highlander on Mon Apr 26, 2010 11:52 am, edited 1 time in total.
I am.... a New Age Inkling! We must continue the fight for young authors, for it is the brave mans part to write with glory or with glory be rejected!
This is your fellow New Age Inkling, Being a band nerd I love it. Needs to be longer though. It also ends abruptly.
I am.... a New Age Inkling! We must continue the fight for young authors, for it is the brave mans part to write with glory or with glory be rejected! (taken from a fellow New Age Inkling, Highlander)
Anyone who says they have only one life to live must not know how to read a book. ~Author Unknown
I went to confront noisy neighbours, only to find the windows dark, stuck with two notes. The ghost, too, had "gone fishing". Something still whistled. — Liminality
