Thnickaman

“HA! You…you silly, SILLY excuse for a trombone!! You think that by jamming yourself in your case I’m just going to give up?!?! WELL I’VE GOT NEWS FOR YOU!!!!! I WILL END YOUR SORRY EXISTENCE IF YOU DON’T VACATE, YOU JACK-BRASS!!!!!!!!!!!!! Annnnnnnnd… YES! VICTORY!! I CLAIM VICTORY!!! With this trombone I shall…” “Lord, if that kid makes any more sound…MAREN!! SHUT. UP. PLEASE!!!” I finally burst. “Honestly, how hard is it to open your case WITHOUT making a sound!!? Dear Lord…..sophomores right guys? Sorry, bad joke.” I stick my tongue in the general direction of that stupid child, who rolls her eyes in some attempt at a response. I let out a quick snort and look out at my dear students. “Anyway kids,” I continue, “we’re going to go over the trouble spot in letter C on measure 46, so I hope you actually decided to go home and PRACTICE yesterday……..ho! I’m sorry class, more bad jokes.” I give them the biggest grin possible on a human being. The students give me a strange look. They don’t understand what’s going to happen, do they? I chuckle to myself, raise my handy-dandy baton and click my students to attention. Now they give me an intense gaze, to show that they are completely ready to begin, the brats. “Wonderful, my children! How interesting what a couple clicks of a stick can do…already better than yesterday, I would say.” I raise my hand, and the instruments rise in response. As I feel a lone drop of sweat drip past my ear, I bring the baton down. Sound immediately fills the room and I am amazed at the improvement already achieved from yesterday’s horrible practice. “That’s it Bradley, smooth and precise on that run. Amy, wonderful job on that solo. Nice control Hank, to ignore the blood coming from your nose. Great ear, Tony! Too bad you won’t be using it later… No worries Haily, that finger will probably grow back. And Mike, very well played!! That’s the way, my darlings!! You’re all doing just splendid!!!” My face is now in a position of absolute joy as I direct the piece to its glorious finale, ignoring the blood and various organs spurting across the room. Then I give the cue to hold that magnificent fermata, and the room is filled with the sound of a B-flat Major chord and sweet, sweet screaming. I finally give the upward stroke, and then the cut-off. Someone’s lung smashes into my cheek as I take in the beautiful sound and sight of slumping bodies in various forms of dismemberment. “Oh dear…it seems you all gave me a little too much today. Maybe that’s my fault. Whatever did I do differently today? Hmm…” I chuckle to myself once more as I return leisurely to my office. I take one last look at my handy-dandy baton. “I won’t need you again, will I?” I say as I put it back in its box. I glance over to my late class, currently spread out across the room. “Complete waste of time trying to teach those demons…at least most of them had big hearts!” I laugh out loud for a long time to myself, then stare at all of those group photos with fake smiles a while before pulling that most welcoming trigger. Then I laugh some more.
……
“Hey mama? Have you seen my paintball gun?” I yelled downstairs. “Dad’s going to kill me if I lose that again!”