Band Class Vol. 2

Seven Types of Depression

Morning.
School.
Kill me.

"Kevin! Lead the band in long tones!"

"Why?!" Kevin replied, immense annoyance in his voice.

"I gotta check out instruments."

Kevin waddled to the front of the band room, looking into the crowd lf flutes players surrounding him, drowning him.

"Alright. Set. Long tones! 5! 6!...5!6!7!8-"

"Fired." Ms. Choi said.

"What?"

"You failed. Go back to your seat." And so, Kevin waddled back to his seat. I rubbed my new trumpet, the silver trumpet, the one God used, Chillipinoxd.

I managed to check out my instrument before class so Ms. Choi didn't make me into her next installment of teriyaki chicken.

"You know what, to hell. Do whatever you want."

I packed my trumpet and walked over to the depressed Kevin.

We had recieved our Chromebooks today, and Kevin's was in excellent condition.

The packing box had an enormous PENIS drawn on it, badly too. The words above it read 'Diego was here.' I read it aloud prompting Diego to look over.

"NOT YOU! Other Diego... Jesus christ man." Tall Diego, or well, Diego C. Was the one who drew the PENIS.

"He drew a dick on my package, Micheala. A dick."

"I see."

The depressed Kevin was even more depressed, but what happens next will blow your mind.

"Alright! That's a good enough break, everyone." Ms. Choi said.

"GET OUT YOUR INSTRUMENTS!" And so we did, even though she basically told us to put them away earlier. Asians, amirite

"We're going to play..." Ms. Choi was deciding on what to play, when all of a sudden Leo yells-

"Seven nation army!"

I whispered over to Peter, "Seven nation army? More like... Seven....types of depression!" Oh hey, look, it's the title.

Peter didn't react to my joke. I won't react when I accidentally make him drop his mouthpiece.

"Alright! Seven Nation Army!" You could hear Kevin tying the noose already.

We played Seven Nation Army and some kid from the choir room yelled
"OMG IS THAT THE BATTLEFIELD 1 TRAILER SONG!!!!!"

We all heavily sighed and continued with our band practice, and by band practice, I mean Ms. Choi yelling at us trumpets for being absolute garbage.

Ms. Choi gave us the last few minutes of the period to create hell.

That was, in fact, what we were going to do. Until, the White Stripes arose from the giant PENIS on Kevin's chromebook case and began playing Seven Nation Army 24/7.

"AND A SEVEN NATION ARMY COULDN'T HOLD ME BACK!" They white crackers yelled.

"What the heck!" Yelled Edgar.

"OMG IT IS THE BATTLEFIELD 1 TRAILER SONGGGGGGG!" The autistic choir kid once again yelled.

Depression and suicidal tendencies replaced all the cells in my body and I began tying nooses for all the band kids.

As I rapped the rope around my neck, I hummed Seven Nation Army once more before looking at the floor to see the last few seconds I would spend on earth.

And then, I spotted a notebook.

I removed the noose and picked it up. I read aloud.

"'Peter grabbed a fire extinguisher and hit Ari in the head, saving me from Trump's agent of death.' HA! Are you guys hearing this? Who wrote this crap???" I turned to another page. "Oh, look! Hear it says 'the Manticore grabbed Kevin's dick and ripped it off, feeding it to the already dead Eliza' Okay what the fuck..."

"What type of sicko writes shitty crap like this." Herman said.

"Keep reading, Migger!"

"Okay....'The poptart was behind this the whole time! I had to destroy it!' Lmao a fucking poptart. What a stupid story." I threw the notebook at Kim, it got tangled in her dark red hair. She got a Vietnam flashback from when Kevin tangled his trombone into her hair.

Jacob ran and picked up his euphonium and began jamming along to Seven Nation Army. Kevin was beyond dead at this point, he didn't even need to suicide.