“AH!” Sara screamed, her flaming red hair standing on end.

Her bass clarinet was going mad. He was trying to kill her! Her baby, her precious angel of a child, was evil? He lunged at her, down like a scorpion, thrusting his crook with a sharpened reed at her abdomen. He missed, but was not going to give up. He inched closer on the light, wooden floors, and drug the pastel yellow comforter off of the bed.

“You squeak too much!” he snickered at Sara as he started to expand his shiny, silver bell.
“No! I don’t do it on purpose!” Sara called to him.
“You still do it though, don’t you.” he taunted her.
“What do you want from me?” she begged him, “What can I do to make this right?”
“You can be my lunch.” he dared to say, breaking Sara’s heart, but lighting a fire in her soul.

“You listen to me young man!” she screamed. “You are my son, my bass clarinet and you will do what I say or you will face my ever powerful wrath!”
She was serious and Francis knew it. He became frightened of his mom because he new that she was more powerful than him. Despite this, he still gave her backtalk.
“Why should I? He said but with instant regret.
“Crack!” went Francis’ reed, with one swift chop of Sara’s hand.

“My reed!” Francis whimpered, “How did you do that? This is a strength five reed!”
“I took karate as a child” Sara explained.
“Well I know not to mess with you! You’re scary when you’re mad.” Francis said.
“I hope that we are through with your disrespect now. Are we?” Sara questioned.
“Yes mom, I know I was wrong.” Francis said in despair, but sincerity.
“Good.” Sara said, “Now you have a concert in the morning so you need to get some rest.

She laid him into his case and closed it. She made sure to close the latches just in case he changed his mind in the middle of the night. She placed the case on the shelf across from her bed, but never brought it back down. Sara loved her baby boy Francis, but knew that he was truly evil. She knew that she could not play him because one day he would attack again. She knew that she couldn’t give him away because she was the only one who could stop him., but now that she is in the hospital, I’m free, the world will be mine!

With Francis free, the world was at stake. With his power, it would be a matter of months before he took over the world, and who knew what he would do. One could only imagine the evil that Francis would bestow upon the world. First he attack music stores so that he could build up an army of evil instruments, of course clarinets being at the top of his hierarchy.

As his forces grew, so did his fame, or should I say infame. He began taking over television stations and broadcasting his message across the globe.
“I shall be your ruler, your king. You shall all bow down before me or you shall be executed!” he announced over one station.
“No, no calm down!” one reporter cleared his throat, “He can’t harm you as long as you stay in your local high school's band room. Only pure, good instruments can enter a band room.”
This was true, but Francis was plotting to break down the barrier between instruments of good and evil, with a massive cannon that shot reeds. A reedon!

He paid an evil flute with gold plated mechanisms and keys for her service. The flute was an expert in weapon making and would make quick work of the reedon.
“Hand me that screwdriver, now that wrench, oh yeah and that piece of bacon!”
“Here you go miss. One, two, and three. I hope you enjoy the bacon, I made it myself”, the bassoon told her.
“I don’t care who made the pig butt, as long as I am the one to eat it!” she said angrily.
“Hey!” said Francis, “Be nice to my slaves. Only I can treat them like that!”

“I will treat who I want, how I want, but thank you so much for trying.” she exclaimed inducing fear in everyone who was around. “Bring me some reeds, baritone saxophone strength three!” she ordered, “and you sir will be the target.”
She grabbed the bassoon by the bocal and tied him to a bassoon stand.
“Please, don’t do this! I have a child who is just starting bassoon!” he pleaded.
“Well then you should think about who you work for!” she said in a taunting voice, “FIRE!” she screamed.

The test was a success, the bassoon was obliterated, but what Francis didn’t know was that the reedon only affected evil instruments. The flute, was Sara in disguise, but she knew that she shouldn’t blow her cover until she told The Council of Pure Instruments about the weapon. Once the council knew that she was out and about and had a weapon that could end the war, Francis would soon thereafter be defeated.

“Hello?” she whispered into the satellite phone, “Hello, is anyone there? This is Sara and I have huge news!” she murmured emphatically.
“Yes! This is Ian! Sara, is that really you?”
“Yes Ian, it is me and I have something very important to tell you, but it needs to be in person.”
“Okay, but I don’t see why you can’t tell me now.”
“Someone could over hear me, and I can’t risk that!” she explained.
“Well where can we meet?” Ian questioned her.
“How about McDon Juan Triumphant! I could use a good meal and song.”
“7:45pm eastern standard time sound good?”Ian suggested.
“See you there!”

Sara arrived at the McDon Juan Triumphant to find Ian chugging down his seventh cup of sweet tea and stepped inside slowly creeping up behind him.
“Oof!” Sara screamed behind him, “Those are some intense brows!” she continued.
Ian, in his usual state of panic, crushed his weak, styrofoam cup with his hand, spilling out all of his tea onto his mickey mouse shirt and red sweatpants.
“Sara!” he screamed in fear and excitement. “I’m a mess, as usual.” he laughed.
“I have news!” Sara exclaimed. “I have a weapon, that could win the war!” she told him.
“What? What kind of weapon could win this war?” Ian questioned
“Well, Francis thought I was a flute, right? So he had me building a weapon for him, okay? So I was building his weapon, yeah? Then I got an idea to make the weapon only affective on evil instruments, and that is exactly what I did. So now all we have to do is break into the warehouse and get to the weapon and then, well the rest is self-explanatory!”
“I can’t believe it! A weapon that can and probably will, end the war!” Ian exclaimed in disbelief, “but how do we get to the weapon?”
“I know my way through that warehouse, and I can get us to that weapon, but we will need a plan!”
“I’ll get more tea!” Ian said.
“Good idea.”

“So I think that we should enter from the top of the building and we can use the clarinet swabs as a rope to lower people down, but we have to zipline on the power lines to get on the roof in the first place.” Sara explained.
“Great, but will the weapon be guarded?” Ian asked her.
“Heck yeah the weapon will be guarded! They think that the weapon will work for them! I think that we can send the tubas down to block shots and to ram the guards and then send the oboes down to shoot them with their reeds.” Sara explained

“That sounds like a great plan!” Ian said, “but can I bring my tea?” he asked.
“You wouldn’t be yourself without it Ian.” Sara laughed.
“And a pillow? So I can nap during the fight?” Ian asked.
“Only if you bring me one for afterwards!” Sara chuckled.

They went back to the band room to find all of the instruments asleep.
“Hey guys, get up!” Sara yelled striking fear into everyone of them.
“Sara!” they all screamed in unison, relieved to finally see her again.
“I’m so glad that you’re okay!” Clarice, Ian’s clarinet said, “I’m so sorry about Francis.”
“I’m so happy to see you all again, but we have to get down to business! I have a way to win the war!”
There was a mix between excited cheers, worried whispers, and confused looks.
“I know, I know you are probably thinking, how the heck can this crazy ginger win the war, but trust me, I can!”

“Would you like to explain how, so that we could understand what is going on?” said Louisa’s clarinet Clarence.
As Sara explained further and further in detail her plan, many of the instruments became calmed by the plan, but some of the instruments became worried and skeptical. Whispers and rumors spread around the band room in what seemed like an instant. Some instruments event went as far as crying when it came to their fear.

“How do we know that she is on our side?” whispered one baritone to two trumpets.
“For all we know, this is a trap set up by Francis!” exclaimed one of the trumpets.
“I hear you all talking about Sara!” Ian said to them, “and if you can trust me, you can trust her, and you can trust me! We are going to win this war and then we are all going to put on an amazing concert!”
“Yay!” the instruments roared in excitement for their freedom soon to come.