The Ninja Tenor Line
Hometown: Cold Springs, Minnesota Major/Year: RAPTORS, 2025
Instrument: Tenors
Previously Known As: "All the Salads, no Lettuce"
In the heart of the forest, a rare and wondrous spectacle takes place. The mating ritual of the Minnesotan is a sight to behold. The male displays his vibrant plumage and performs intricate displays to attract a mate. His bright colors, intricate calls, and graceful movements are a carefully choreographed performance. The female assesses the male's suitability as a mate, looking for signs of health, strength, and the ability to provide for a family. The male presents the female with a gift of food, symbolizing his ability to provide for his mate and their future offspring. With the female's acceptance, the pair begins their mating dance, the culmination of a long and complex courtship, showcasing the incredible adaptability and resilience of these magnificent creatures.
Hometown: Chocolatetown, PAMajor/Year: Twister, 2025
Instrument: Tenors
Previously Known As: ""The 'i' is optional"", ""I could do a lot with those two inches""
All is well in the basement ballroom of Cook Drome. Music is playing and there are shouts of 10:24 in the air. Every drummer is enjoying the night’s festivities, including our very own tenor Patrick Thieblemont. He is looking great in his windbreaker, keystone in hand, and is turning heads with his skill in the game Ball. All eyes are on him and his partner as they crush their opponents with grace. As he expertly throws a ping pong ball, the clocktower chimes with the strike of midnight. Suddenly, Patrick is gone. His partner rushes outside to find him so they can finish their game, but he is nowhere to be found. The only thing remaining is his glasses, which he had dropped on his way out. His partner still scours C-town in search of his friend, making everyone try on those glasses, hoping to finish the game once and for all.
Hometown: Your Mom's HouseMajor/Year: Thrifting, 2026
Instrument: Tenors
North, South, East….West? We looked everywhere in Schoellkopf for Kobe. His tenors, vacant, sat on the back hash where he once was. His harness was still warm. We all split up to search for him, trying to catch a glimpse of his shiny earrings, brightly colored hair, or hear the clinking of zippers on his thrifted leather jacket. “Kobe!” we called out, but all hope was lost. Kobe vanished in the blink of an eye. One moment we’re crabbing right forever in “Raise Your Glass,” and the next his tenors are sitting on the ground with the faint word “D I C K” written in the fog across the drums.
I wandered near the scoreboard, peering into the woods. Everything was quiet until my ears picked up on a faint humming coming from above my head. It was Kobe! He floated there in the tree canopy, arms stretched out and eyes rolled back in his head. He descended to the ground, landing in a perfect split. He seemed to come to, returning to his normal, grounded state. I never quite understood what possessed Kobe, but every now and again you’ll see empty tenors on the field and see him floating away into the woods.
Hometown: Seattle, the Furry Capital of the WorldMajor/Year: Fursuit Craftsmanship, 2027
Instrument: Tenors
Okay, so before I tell you about this, I should say that this shouldn't reflect poorly on Max. Max is an incredible friend, and a real gift to the drumline. He's always happy to lend a helping hand, come to girl talk, or do that thing where he bumps into your drums with his drums and makes a kissy sound with his mouth. To know Max is to love Max, and we all love Max very much. I just... don't think I can keep this to myself, anymore.
So you know that face he makes? Whenever we take a picture? Where he opens his mouth really wide like he's gasping? It kinda looks like this: :O Yeah, I thought that was just a silly face he liked to do, but honestly, I'm not sure anymore.
A few weeks back, I was taking a nap on top of the shelves in the band room. It was after a long and rainy field rehearsal, which I slept through entirely. I woke up disoriented and confused, startled awake by the sound of Max re-tuning the drums.
Then, I heard this... squelching. It was reverberating through the whole room. I looked over to see Max clenching his stomach, and I realized that it must've been his tummy rumbling. I was going to get his attention and ask if he wanted to grab dinner with me, but before I could, he started foaming at the mouth and drooling on the floor. It was so off-putting. I kept quiet, out of fear. He turned around and started frantically scanning the room, looking for any sign of life, any person at all. Thankfully, he didn't spot me on top of the shelves. When he was certain that he was alone, he did a chipper little dance on the concrete floor and growled the words...
"feeding time."
He hobbled to his backpack, and I watched in horror as he reached inside and revealed twelve North American gray squirrels. He lifted their cold little bodies, one by one. I don't even know where he got all those squirrels. How does anyone acquire that many squirrels? It could've been a whole family. They looked... fresh. He laid their fluffy little corpses across the floor in a straight line.
He squatted over the leftmost squirrel and, to my shock, started making the same face from all the photos. Only this time, his gaping mouth just kept getting wider and wider. Inch after inch, it just wouldn't stop widening. He unhinged his jaw like a snake, mouth wide open, like he was at the dentist. He lifted the first squirrel to his mouth, placing it gently inside. He didn't chew. The sound of the gulp was deafening, and just like that, the first North American gray squirrel was gone. As much as I wanted to look away, I just couldn't. In mere minutes, each of the remaining eleven squirrels had vanished, into the gaping abyss of Maximilian's stomach.
I haven't talked to him since, and honestly, I don't know how to feel. We were gonna buy a hamster for Drome next year, but I don't even think that's an option anymore. Not with Max around.