Let's Start a Band

Sal plugs his microphone into the amp, wincing as feedback squeals from the speaker. He adjusts the volume and reverb to a more manageable level, then taps the mic. "Testing, testing. One, two, one, two. PopppPPP! PopppPPP!"

Satisfied with the sound, he grins and spins the mic around. "Alright, my dudes, welcome to the band! We're gonna need a kickass name, then we can start finding our sound!"

Bunched up in a dark corner of the room, Ichor scowls as it holds a tambourine that Sal tossed at it. "What's this dumb thing?" it says, shaking it in disgust. It makes a jingling rattle. "That's a dumb noise," Ichor says. "This is dumb," it concludes.

Hey Kid peeks around the door frame, gazing in wonder at the many sounds already coming from inside.

"Hey, whatcha doing? I wanna play!" they say, leaping into the room. They run over to the instruments, plucking too hard on the guitar and bass strings and nearly knocking them over. They roughly smash a few keys on the piano as they look around. But then they see it. The drum set. The shiny metal, the promise of loud noises. This was it!

"Oooooohhhhh." Hey Kid grabs some drum sticks and jumps into the chair behind the drum kit. They bang and clang the hi-hat, the snare, the toms, the cymbals. This was definitely going to be FUN!

The whole room becomes quasar white!

Retinas gradually adjust just enough to perceive everything in reds, golds, and neon-whites… and one dark figure. The shape is unmistakably the robo-maid, but what Amelie holds makes a deep sustained note that blends into a chord, then two chords at the same time!

A red gold light from somewhere above illuminates the mystery instrument: a double neck electric cello!

—and the maid outfit Amelie is wearing is lacey and frilly, like something a cosplayer would wear to an anime and/or Final Fantasy convention! The maid-bot tosses the hair of their vermilion wig.

"Let us rock."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Sal shouts, warding his eyes against the blinding light. "Let's take it slow and steady, yeah? We don't want to burn out before we even get started!"Sal walks over to Amelie and claps them on the shoulder. "But I appreciate the enthusiasm, Amelie. That's some fancy pyrotechnics you've got hidden in your chassis. Not sure when it would help out with your cleaning duties, but it sure will make for a good show on stage!" He laughs, completely missing the fact that Amelie just used magic.Sal walks back to the amp and puts his hands on his hips as he surveys the motley crew. "Amelie. Melly. Hey Kid. And yeah, even you, Ichor. Before we get started, I just wanted to say how much I appreciate all of you. You know, I don't intend to be a Night Porter forever. I've got big dreams of making it as a recording artist. So I really want this band to work out. Let's give it our all, find our sound, and make the best damn album that anybody's ever heard!"

Amelie ponders Sal’s words…

ANALYZING . . .

⚠️FUN ALERT!:)

She concludes, "This sounds fun, according to Science."

Hey Kid oohs and claps at Amelie's grand entrance. It is mildly disappointing that nothing caught on fire, but it was cool none-the-less.

As Sal tells them to slow down, Hey Kid glares at him suspiciously.

"This isn't gonna be like some lame class where you talk the whole time and we just sit around, is it?"

Sal chuckles as Melly goes off to look for the sound. "Not like that, Melly! It's, like, a metaphor."

He turns to Hey Kid. "Nah, kid. This is gonna be the opposite of lame. It's gonna be lame backwards. 'Emal.' So why don't you start us off with a steady drum beat. Boom, boom, bah! Boom, boom, bah! Like that!"

Sal puts his hands on his hips and grins. Yeah, this'll be great. Right? Right?

...right?

"Emal would be a not-lame name for our band! That, or Rohpatem," Amelie offers. "Saying words backwards is a Scientifically Proven key to success. For example, if I were to play The Beatles’ I Want to Hold Your Hand in reverse…"

Amelie stops talking. They just freeze. If it’s possible for a robot in a frilly anime-ish maid outfit and a red anime-hair wig to look completely terrified, Amelie has successfully pulled off the look.DELETING ALL BEATLES FILES . . . DELETING MEMORY OF THE LAST 13.45 SECONDS

"Emal! That is a good one, Sal! I will save it for later retelling!"

SAVING JOKE

Amelie plays a low sustained note, which will grow wilder as the drums and/or other instruments kick in.

Ichor blows a slimy wet raspberry. "Yeah, no. Still sounds lame to me. I'm out!" The shapeless mass slithers behind the wall of the living room.

"Hey, come on, Ichor! Give it a chance!" Sal calls after the shapeless thing.He turns back when Amelie and Melly start jamming together. "Ah, yeah! There it is! There’s the sound!" he calls, grinning. He waves his hand in front of his body, strumming on an air guitar. "Woow, wa wow wa wow, wa wow wow! Come on, Hey Kid! Hit that snare!"

"Email? Is that what old people use to send letters to each other? I guess it'll work."

As Amelie and Melly jam, Hey Kid takes Sal's suggestion and bangs the snare a few times before adding in the floor bass and a smattering of toms. They even get their tail in on the groove with some clangs from the cymbals.

Amelie deems this experience "objectively fun! Numbers do not lie!" (Numbers can be misinterpreted, but that is an objectively boring detail best left unshared.)

The maid-bot exclaims, "This emal band is metaphorically on fire!" They make their double-neck electric cello talk!

BIMMITY-BIMMITY-NYOWWWwwvvVVVBBZZZT!
💥BOOOOM!!💥

The instrument bursts into flaming splinters!

"And my hair is literally on fire." They calmly grab a cup of coffee and dump it on their own head.

"Hey! Whoa, whoa, its not that serious!" Sal says as Melly suggests stopping the music. "A little pyrotechnics never hurt anybody! Just some furniture maybe..." His eyes are drawn to the nearby drapes which are smoldering and smoking.

Ichor slithers out from behind the wall, enjoying the impending chaos more than the music.