The Rise of the Band Geeks, Episode 16: The Army Returns (Part 3)

Kendra crept away from the crusty dining hall, her backpack a rock on her shoulders and her Holy Band Beanie situated snugly atop her head.  The space was empty save for a few poles, a bannister, a water bottle-refilling station, and–

 

Him.

 

Atop the fountain sat the demonic octopus, its gaze fixated on Kendra.  She pulled her Holy Band Beanie tighter over her ears and set her backpack aside, then clenched her fists.  Without stretching first, she barreled toward the accursed thing with the most vicious battle cry known to mankind, a war chant dredged up from the countless minute spent cadencing with the band to football games.

“BUTTEEEEEER!!!”  Her legs pumping, she shot toward the octopus, her arms outstretched, ready to destroy the thing–

 

THWOMP.

 

She crashed into something solid and human-shaped.  It toppled backward but did not fall onto the floor, which just saved Kendra from faceplanting before a rando who had not been there a mere two seconds before.  When her vision cleared, she realized she was staring at a figure clad in black form-fitting athletic wear from shoulder to toe.  Diminutive and squirrely, the figure bounced up and down his feet to shake out his muscles, unperturbed by Kendra steamrolling into him, then flashed her a smile that eerily resembled that of the demon octopus.

 

“Hello there,” boomed Franklin F. Franklin.

 

“Franklin, wh–how–.”

 

Franklin simply lifted an as-of-now unbruised finger upward.  Kendra’s eyes followed him and found a missing ceiling tile beyond which the ventilation shafts loomed.

 

“I’m a cymbal player.  A little knee-bending doesn’t scare me.”  Again, that smile.  “I was hoping you’d figure it out sooner.  You know, since I am the lord of reversible stuffed octopi.”

 

“F-figure out what?”  Kendra was dizzy; her head was spinning.  Everything she’d been through in the past week was because of Franklin?

 

“I was trying to film an iMovie about sentient stuffed octopi, but you kept popping up in all my critical shots.  Don’t worry; I’ll edit you out of them.”  Noting Kendra’s incredulous expression, Franklin erased his smile.

 

“It was on my bed!!!”

 

I didn’t mean for that to happen!  He just fell from my hand, bro!  I am sorry about that one.  It was completely unintentional.”  As he talked, Franklin approached the apparently-not-demonic octopus and plucked it from the water bottle filler.  “Anyway, I’m almost done filming.  Just two more months to go!”  He flashed Kendra a thumbs-up, bent his knees, and launched himself back into the building’s crawlspace.

 

Kendra shook.  All of the running, all of the terror, and it had been–it wasn’t–.

 

“Hey, Kendra!”

 

She whirled around.  The space was suddenly teeming with students, though she was certain no one had been there a moment before.  Hilary waved at her with a smile that betrayed her ignorant bliss.  “We gotta get to class, sis.  Everything okay?”

 

“Y-yeah,” Kendra stammered.  She stooped down to pick up her backpack again.  Franklin.  Franklin was–.

 

All of this for an iMovie?

 

She pushed her terror away, squared her shoulders, and trudged beside Hilary into the snow.

 

The End!  For now………………..

 

More things will happen next week!

The Rise of the Band Geeks, Episode 15: The Army Returns (Part 2)

The ends of her fingers numb, Kendra crept behind Hilary on the short but arduous trek to the dining hall.  Each time she blinked, the puffy form of the stuffed octopus loomed before her, its mouth twisted into a coy smile.  Its elliptical eyes taunted her, their innocent demeanor crumbling as its sinister soul festered within.

 

Soul?  She shook her head to clear the cobwebs.  This was a stuffed octopus; Franklin the freshman cymbal was trolling her.  That had to be it.  Stuffed octopi couldn’t possibly–.

 

At the dining hall, she downed more coffee than usual.  She brushed Hilary’s concerned query, insisted she was caffeine- and sleep-deprived.  There was nothing to worry about; Franklin was trolling her; it was her imagination–.

 

Something soft tickled the nape of her neck.

 

The volume of Kendra’s scream could have drowned out a jet engine.  While no glass shatter, several patrons did drop their plastic cups, and one dude was unfortunate enough to spill chai down the front of his shirt.  Kendra leapt to her feet and batted her shoulders to brush the wretched thing off her, but there was nothing there.  She glanced wildly around her, impervious to the perplexed gazes of her fellow students, but there was no sign of the octopus–not on the chair, the floor, or in the clutches of a certain Franklin F. Franklin, with whom she was unfortunate enough to have in two of her classes.

 

The thing that had tickled her neck was Kendra’s own hair.

 

Her face the shade of the zero in the center of The Horseshoe, Kendra returned to her seat.  “It’s alright, guys,” she managed with a nervous laugh.  “I just got startled, is all.”

 

With that, the onlookers returned to whatever enticed them on their cell phones, save for the guy who had spilled chai on his shirt.  He was presently aiding a dining hall worker in cleaning up the mess and letting loose a poetic string of curses that would have put Shakespeare to shame.

 

“Kendra, are you sure you’re okay?”  Frowning, Hilary bit into the dining hall French toast, which didn’t have a very French feel to it once one added syrup, but no matter.  “That was–.”

 

“I thought it was him.”  Kendra couldn’t bring herself to say the word octopus.  For some reason, she thought of the octopus as being male, primarily because the person she associated with stuffed reversible octopi was male.

 

“You…thought it was your stuffed octopus.”

 

“He’s not my–my plushie!  It’s alive, Hilary!  IT’S EVIL!”  This earned her a few more looks from the patrons whose phone screens were not especially interesting.

 

“It’s a stuffed octopus, Kendra.  It can’t be alive.  Look, I’m stressed about school, too, but this–you need to relax, sis.  I can give you tips to help you destress–”

 

“I don’t need to destress!  I need to get to the bottom of this–this thing!  Because whatever this is might very well possess me.”  Steeling herself, Kendra stood and slung her backpack over her shoulder.  “I’ll see you later, Hilary.”

 

“Wait, what about your brekkie?”

 

Kendra hesitated and studied her un-French toast–English toast?–and gingerly resumed her seat at the crusty dining table.  “After breakfast,” she amended, setting her pack down.

 

To Be Continued…………………………………………………………………………..

The Rise of the Band Geeks, Episode 14: The Army Returns (Part 1)

It started out subtly:  cold sweat on her hands, the crawling sensation she was being watched, tension coiling through the back of her neck.  Between homework, classes, and crying over the fact that she had to turn in her uniform last Saturday, Kendra didn’t have time to consider who–or what–her stalker was.

 

When she first spotted him, she was crying studying in her dorm room.  Her roommate was out and about, so she was all alone–save, of course, the random stuffed octopus perched eerily on her windowsill.

 

“AAAAAAAAIIIIIIEEEE!”  In her terror, she yeeted her calculus textbook across the floor and nearly spilled perfectly hot dining hall coffee.  When she came to her senses, she realized the octopus was just staring at her contentedly.  Smiling, its innocent visage harbored no malevolence she could observe with the naked eye–which meant it was harmless, right?  She knew there was a cymbal kid named Franklin who was obsessed with these things, so maybe….

 

But she didn’t know Franklin.  Franklin didn’t know where she lived.  And, most crucially, Kendra was not on the drumline.

 

She backed away slowly from the thing and its stitched-on ovular eyes.  She couldn’t take her eyes off it; if she did, she was afraid it would attack her.  But it didn’t.  After half an hour spent hiding in her laundry basket, Kendra emerged to find her room just as she’d left it, except now the octopus was gone.

 

She was on the Bursley-Baits bus the next time she spotted the octopus.  After an afternoon spent practicing Taps on her horn in the band hall, she was wiped:  her palms were sweaty, knees weak, arms were heavy.  Her vision was so blurred with exhaustion she almost did not spot the octopus swinging from one of the straps standing passengers were supposed to hold onto.

 

Though horror rose in her throat, she did not scream.  She was in public; whatever this was, the octopus could not attack her here.  It could not do anything, anyway, because it was a stuffed octopus.  She was imagining things.  Franklin must have stuck one here to troll passengers and forgotten about it…right?

 

She decided she was sleep-deprived; she was seeing things.  So she went to bed early that night and woke up refreshed, her eyes naturally sliding open to greet the day in a rare moment of bliss.  She gave a slight smile, took in her surroundings, then–.

 

The octopus, the same octopus from her windowsill and the bus, was sitting inches from her face.

 

The screech that emitted from Kendra was a cross between a banshee’s shrill and a five-year-old cackling as his mother vacuumed the carpet.  Her roommate, the people in the adjacent rooms, the residents of the hall two floors below her, and an unsuspecting clump of pedestrians on the sidewalk bore witness to her scream.

 

“What the flippin’ frick is wrong with you!?” hollered her roommate.

 

“O-O-OCTOPUS!!!!”

 

“What th–oh, that?  Where’d you get him?  He’s so cute!”

 

“HE’S A DEMON OCTOPUS, HILARY!  HE’S BEEN STALKING ME ALL WEEK!  HE’S–.”

 

Calmly, Hilary plucked the octopus off Kendra’s bed and stroked its plush head.  “Aaaawwww, hey there, widdle guy!  where’d you come from?”

 

“I don’t know!!!!  But he’s been on the bus, so he needs a deep cleaning.”

 

“Oh.”  Hilary tenderly set the octopus onto her desk so she could clean him.  “Why are you afraid of a stuffed octopus anyway?”

 

“HE’S ALIVE!!!”

 

“Alright, Kendra, calm down.  I’m sure the octopus isn’t really alive.  You’ve been reading way too many creepypastas, sis.  Here, let’s get breakfast and try to think through this rationally.”

 

To Be Continued………………………………..

The Rise of the Band Geeks, Episode 13: Lonely Millicent

Millicent, the sophomore cymbal who may or may not have skull tattoos on her arms and 36 copies of Hamlet in her bedroom, was lonely.  She sat alone in her lonely one-person dorm room and twiddled with her purple hair extension she’d gotten off Etsy at a 50% discount once.  Alone with her band uniform, which she tragically had to return next Saturday.  Alone with the homework she should be doing instead of browsing Reddit.  Alone with a half-eaten calzone.

 

She was utterly disgusted with the email she had received last night from the Board of Regents and hoped the scandal didn’t go much deeper than the 118-page PDF of messages.  This PDF, of course, took precedence over her homework, and it unfortunately took precedence over practicing cymbals because the band hall was closed until Tuesday.  Sighing, she pulled her eyes away from Reddit long enough to check the drumline Discord, which of course was blowing up with memes.  Hal, the freshman whomst believed eating tater tots was a religion, was spamming it, of course; he, it seemed, did not understand those memes had been posted several hours ago.

 

Millicent fiddled with her hair again.  She yearned to be practicing T Dubs in the band hall before a mirror, her ear canals jammed with foam maize earplugs and her tennis shoes scrabbling for purchase on the tiled floor.  What was the purpose of life if not punk music and T Dubs?  But, alas, the band hall was closed, and Commuter South didn’t even run on weekends.

 

She growled.  Why did people do such horrible things in this world?  Why couldn’t people remain loyal to their loved ones?  It made her angry, which, of course, made her want to play cymbals, which she still couldn’t do because the band hall was closed.

 

Ugh.  She was considering going rogue and practicing T Dubs choreography in her room nonetheless just because something was better than nothing, right?  But she’d just eaten half a calzone and planned to finish it, so that probably wasn’t a good idea.  Give it thirty minutes to an hour, and the calzone would be digested enough for her to commence the deep knee bends.

 

Although introverted, she did get lonely from time to time.  This was one of those times.  She wanted to be back in the Big House in full uniform with her beanie and 100,000 maize-clad Michigan fans screaming as the Wolverines pummeled That Team Down South for the first time in ten years.  She wished it was still that day, November 27th.  She didn’t want it to already be January.  She didn’t want band season to be done.

 

Sighing, Millicent massaged her hurting heart and took another bite of her calzone.

 

Author’s Note:  What Schlissel did was not OK in any capacity; he was rightfully sacked for abusing his power.

The Rise of the Band Geeks, Episode 12: Requiem for Marching Band Season

Ice on my tongue, crusted

Over harsh, bitter puffs of nothingness

I trusted

The months would stretch and coalesce into taffy-like time

That eternities would burn in the aftermath of summer’s speed

And all evenings would be fever dreams of drill and fundamentals and Varsity

Until the sun slid behind the lids of the multihued trees and the Fearless Leader

Summoned the teeming mass of band geeks to the center of the tower and we all

Screamed “Go, Michigan!” as a team and December was but a beam on future’s horizon

 

In January’s rut I cling

To the remainder of the season in my closet and the singing, screaming shrieks of victory

Storms of maize and blue and snow that flowed round human flesh

And the heat that dwindled into a freeze as the fall washed into my memory

And the bright maize lights and the blimp and the remembrance

The fusion of fall with first Notus, then Boreas,

42-27

Entanglement of life with Heaven

 

They said we wouldn’t win until Hell had frozen over

Before they realized

Hell is a town in Michigan.

The Rise of the Band Geeks, Episode 11: What Now?

It’s over.  Kendra fingered her horn (with her playing gloves on) and peered through the windows to the snowy pavement beyond.  Done.  Finished.  Passed on.  Ceased to be.  Pushing up daisies.  Shuffled off this mortal coil–

 

She vigorously shook her head to clear it of fragments of a Monty Python sketch.  Now was not the time for humor; it was the time for mourning.

 

Though she was alone in the band hall, she raised her alto horn and played the low, sorrowful tune typically played on a trumpet.  The funeral dirge sounded oddly low but no less solemn as she played the notes from a dusty memory.  Her eyes welled as she struggled to recall the exact notes even as her fingers pressed down on the valves, and images from the season flashed before her eyes:  carrying an orb at the 9/11 tribute show, scuttling across the field during homecoming, freezing her digits off at The Game while flurries plagued the band throughout halftime and beyond.

 

She didn’t notice the approach of the Fearless Leader until after she lowered her instrument.  The Fearless Leader stood with a slight smile on his face (she imagined), his eyes sparkling.  “Great job,” he began, his voice not unfriendly.

 

“Thanks,” Kendra murmured.  The final notes of “Taps” still rang in her ears.

 

She squinted at the full-bodied flakes that cascaded from the heavens and coated everything in sight.  Waiting for the bus to get back to her dorm was going to be…not fun.  “I can’t believe it’s over,” she croaked, then turned to face the Fearless Leader.  “Where did the season go?”

 

“Time is funny that way, Kendra,” replied the Fearless Leader.  Kendra flinched with the revelation that he knew her name.

 

“But there will be next season.  And the season after that,” came the sage voice of the Fearless Leader.  “All will be well, Kendra.  This is not a farewell; this is an ‘until we meet again.'”

 

Kendra nodded, her throat tight as she wondered what in the world her life would entail.  No band?  For a whole semester?  But band was her life!  She’d given her soul to it.

 

“Until we meet again,” she echoed,” wishing it could be football season forever.