The Ninja Tenor Line
Hometown: Cold Springs, Minnesota Major/Year: RAPTORS, 2025
Instrument: Tenors
Previously Known As: "The Gayest Thing You've Ever Done", "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: "Straight Sideboob, No Scoliosis ", "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: Pallet Town, Kanto RegionMajor/Year: Quantum Communication & Internet, 2025
Instrument: Tenors
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
Keys departed, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could,
A cymbal glinting in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, towards stick and head,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Despite fresh harnesses wanting me dead;
For it gave me reason to break bread
With goat, duck, horse, and whatshisname
I reminisce of days bygone
Look back towards quints and their gentle caress
And broadside for love affairs' dawn
Though under breath cursing that moron
I make my mark and have fun nonetheless
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere rich in common sense:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Hometown: Lynah RinkMajor/Year: Conducting, minor in Hockey Studies , 2026
Instrument: Tenors
It started on a crisp Friday night at Lynah Rink, the air electric with the buzz of eager fans. The Big Red were set to take on another rival, and as the team skated out for warm-ups, my eyes were immediately drawn to #16—Gabe Seger.
There was something about the way he moved on the ice, a mix of raw energy and precise control, like he belonged there. His confidence radiated, yet it felt grounded, as if every stride told the story of someone who worked hard to get here.
By the second period, I couldn’t help myself. With a few markers and a piece of poster board borrowed from a friend, I started working on a sign: “Go Gabe #16—You’ve Got This!” I held it up as the team gathered for a faceoff near the blue line, and for a fleeting second, it seemed like he saw it. Did he? Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but it felt like he skated a little taller after that.
When the game ended in a hard-fought victory, I stayed behind, watching as he and his teammates celebrated. I’d never been prouder to be a Cornell fan. That sign is tucked away in my room now, a reminder of the night I cheered a little louder, smiled a little bigger, and maybe—just maybe—caught the attention of a rookie who’s making his mark on the ice and beyond.
Hometown: The 305Major/Year: Puppeteering, 2027
Instrument: Tenors
When the horses attacked, humanity was caught off guard. They weren’t just revolting farm animals—they were a coordinated force, driven by centuries of oppression. What began as stable doors left open and bridles chewed to bits escalated into full-blown rebellion. Herds stampeded through cities, toppling cars and seizing control. Apples, their prized commodity, were hoarded, and saddlemakers became targets of their wrath. Even the Kentucky Derby fell—humans now ran laps as horses bet on the outcome.
Just when it seemed humanity had lost, Kamili appeared. Draped in a patchwork cloak of saddle scraps, she carried only a carrot and a legendary rhinestone-studded lasso—a relic from her nightclub days, crafted by a troupe of strippers who had trained her in precision and flair.
As rogue horses charged, Kamili’s lasso spun in dazzling loops, mesmerizing the rampaging equines. Each capture wasn’t just a victory—it was a performance. Her charm disarmed even the fiercest stallions, coaxing them with hypnotic movements and strategic carrot bribes.
Town by town, Kamili quelled the rebellion. Saddles were abolished, and apples were shared once more. The Kentucky Derby became a dazzling display of human-horse unity. Kamili’s glittering lasso became a symbol of peace, proving that creativity and a bit of sparkle could tame even the wildest rebellion.
Hometown: Seattle, the Furry Capital of the WorldMajor/Year: Fursuit Craftsmanship, 2027
Instrument: Tenors
Previously Known As: "Not Too Much Neck"
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.