The Musician

The Musician

A Story by Trekkie

"He always used all capitals, just like that. He also had a SUPER-POWERED CARPET STAIN REMOVER OF DOOM, a SUPER-POWERED SEWING NEEDLE OF DOOM, a SUPER-POWERED COAT RACK OF DOOM, and the largest and most powerful of all, the SUPER-POWERED SOCK OF ULTIMATE



The Musician



by T.R. Ekki



        Orchestras and supervillians do not go together particularly well, and so Gerald L. Effingheimer, much more well known as The Musician in modern circles, certainly had a tough task ahead of him. Perhaps part of his failure had been choosing to conquer orchestras around the world. Perhaps part of it was choosing “The Musician” as his supervillian name. The problem is, we may never know.


        So 'twas a grand day in Springfield, unless one would like to mention that 'twas not really a grand day at all, for it was a town called Springfield and it was always summer. Yes, they had the wet season, and the dry season, and whatnot, but they never had spring, particularly. However, they were worldwide known as the best makers of giant letters anywhere in the world. They did not specialize in orchestras, but they still had one. It was not a famous orchestra.


        As a result, the orchestra concert currently happening at Springfield's Town Hall had an audience of mostly parents, adoring fans (of which there were two), and The Musician.


        He had travelled to Springfield under the guise of a music critic, toting along his

precious bassoon, which was secretly a high-powered sound-defying lighting-device thingamabob. It also included a toothbrush, as The Musician often forgot one. The toothbrush was hidden inside of the reed, which unfolded to reveal A SUPER-POWERED THIMBLE OF DOOM. The Musician, you see, was quite confident in his abilities of destroying orchestra concerts around the world, especially small ones in towns such as Springfield-where-it-was-always-summer, so he had only brought his SUPER-POWERED THIMBLE OF DOOM. (He always used all capitals, just like that. He also had a SUPER-POWERED CARPET STAIN REMOVER OF DOOM, a SUPER-POWERED SEWING NEEDLE OF DOOM, a SUPER-POWERED COAT RACK OF DOOM, and the largest and most powerful of all, the SUPER-POWERED SOCK OF ULTIMATE DOOM. He was very proud of his SOCK OF ULTIMATE DOOM. He was quite sure that he would one day be able to take over the world with it.)


        So The Musician, sitting quietly in the crowd, did not make his Final Move until almost the intermission (for he was quite enamoured of those lemon pastries, and wanted to take over the world before the rest of the people ate all of them). As the orchestra conducter held the last fortissimo, The Musician leapt up from his seat, onto the stage, where he took center stage, yelling as he did so “STOP!”


        Everyone froze. Except for the orchestra members, who had never finished their last fortissimo, and as their orchestra conductor had frozen in his fortissimo-ing, they had to continue until the orchestra conducter finished fortissimo-ing them. Technically, when you do not have a conductor, but you still have a fortissimo, you are supposed to keep going until three-and-a-half measures later, which is by when any sensible conductor should have stopped. However, the faithful orchestra members figured that they still had a conductor, and they continued on.


        The Musician continued on to the next rehearsed part of his speech. “Ah, silence,” he said, in the age-old tradition of supervillians everywhere. “Blessed silence.” But you see, there wasn't silence. The orchestra members were still on their fortissimo.


        Still playing, the orchestra members looked at each other with baffled looks on their faces, wondering why their evil supervillian was telling them that silence was blessed when there was no silence.


        The Musician realized the sudden flaw in his plan. Rehearsed-speeches did not seem to work in an improvised setting, and he had always been terrible at improvising things in school. “Er...” he said, turning around and awkwardly nudging the orchestra conductor, in a hope to tell him to stop fortissimo-ing the orchestra.


        The problem with this is, of course, that orchestra conductors are liable to have a secret

fear that evil supervvillians are going to one day take over their orchestras. Mr. Xylo had always been one of those sorts of orchestra conductors. He had created a support group about it, and orchestra conductors around the world had attended their once-a-month meetings, overseen by a therapist who reassured them all that evil supervillians did not really exist after all, and why would they want to take over an orchestra in any case? However, Mr. Xylo, now almost cured of his secret fear, had had to miss the last meeting in favor of his son's wedding, at which there was loud rock music and terrible singers and Mr. Xylo had secretly told himself subconsciously that if evil supervillians really were to take over all of the orchestras, this would be the only sort of orchestra that would be left. As a result, when The Musician leapt (in italics, just like that) onto the stage, Mr. Xylo revisted all of his terrible dreams in which the only music left in the world was loud, raucous rock music with horrible singers, and promptly froze on the spot, smack-dab in the middle of his fortissimo-ing,


        The orchestra members had not known about Mr. Xylo's secret fear, and were therefore unprepared when he continued fortissimo-ing them, their subconscious minds thinking “He must be saying (without actually saying) 'THE SHOW MUST GO ON!'” However, Mr. Xylo was not saying (without actually saying) that at all. In fact, he was not even bothering to send subliminal messages to anyone in particular. He was just frozen smack-dab in the middle of his fortissimo-ing.


        So when The Musician, also unknowing of Mr. Xylo's secret fear, nudged him gently on the back, Mr. Xylo, still frozen, fell flat on his face, except not really, because on the way down, he knocked over one of the viola players' music stands, which tipped sideways, causing a slight domino affect amongst the violin players' music stands. The first-chair violinist jumped up to avoid death by falling music stand, but in doing so, she pushed back her chair, upsetting the next row of violins' music stands, therin causing yet another domino affect. And so it went about the violinists.


        The cellists, on the other hand, had been knocked down by Mr. Xylo's baton, abruptly knocking over the second chair cellist's music stand, which was precarious even at the best of times. The second chair cellist had jumped up, just like the first chair violinist had, but instead of pushing his chair back, he accidentally threw his bow, which upsetted various other cellos and cellists. The bass players, who are chaotic and odd people, had somehow erupted into a rosin-throwing battle, the rosin of which occasionally landed in the audience, where the Adoring Fans would attempt to grab at the rosin, sometimes involving jumping over plastic folding seats and upsetting audience members.


        “Hmmm,” said The Musician, slightly baffled as to how he had caused so much chaos with only one small nudge. He hadn't even gotten to use his SUPER-POWERED THIMBLE OF DOOM. So, unbeknownst to the members of the orchestra and the audience, he jumped off the stage and proceeded to the lobby, where the nice ladies selling baked goods sold him all of the lemon pastries.

© 2009 Trekkie

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heeheehee *falls over from laughing* ... I love it. : )

A couple spelling mistakes (supervvillians) and a couple breaks in the lines (I don't know if they were done on purpose), but over all, it was great.

Posted 10 Years Ago

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Added on March 4, 2009



I'm a convoluted trekkie who spends too much time procrastinating. I can see the Northern Lights from my house in the winter and I've memorized startlingly large portions of King Henry IV, part one. more..

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