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Leo's Parade Diaries:
The Sleuth Parades
Hello; this is Graham Gurdetha speaking. You also know me as Rhythm Bear, which is the codename I took when all the circus performers became G-52s. I have four brothers: George, John, Xaiver, and Henry, all of whom are percussionists just like me (this includes piano because we're counting that; we have grand and upright pianos, and not a digital piano). However, George and Henry are strictly percussionists; John is more known for playing the trumpet and the bugle, while Xaiver mostly plays trombone, and he even plays the bagpipes. I had also previously mentioned my ancestor's name, William Gurdetha, gets confusing because the same name also belongs to a bull that is a percusionist on the musical payroll system just like us, but the bull is a kind bull that doesn't make the mistakes of my ancestor. To keep us separate, he goes by "William the Bull," and he says he likes to hear the "clop, clop" sound of bare hooves marching in step to the beating of drums.
If you're confused by the title, the word "sleuth" doesn't mean a detective or private investigator; the word also means a group of bears, believe it or not, just like how the other group names include pride (lions), pack (wolves), murder (crows), school (fish), etc. (A group of bulls is just called "cattle.") Thus, the five of us, our own sleuth of siblings, were on hand to perform today. It wasn't public, though; it was just a private session with Leo the Tiger. He had his friend, Blue, with him, and Blue, because he could shapeshift into multiple forms, was appearing as a bear himself.
Nothing special, though; it was just the usual routine of doing my ancestor's rituals in order to keep the bad karma away. Though the spell was broken, we discovered, we still did the routines out of habit. Blue had seen us perform as members of COTS, or Circus of the Superstars, and so he thought we'd be in our orange and black uniforms. "I thought you'd wear your uniforms," he said. "You are a marching band."
"That's true," I said, "but we like to mix it up every now and then, and sometimes, the best way to dress is to look professional this way." (All of us, including Leo, wore suits and ties, even though we were performing barefoot.) "But you can still march."
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. Look downwards." Blue looked down at our feet, one of my ancestor's rituals, and the five of us took our rope-tensioned snare drums and beat a drum roll. Upon its conclusion, he saluted us, and we saluted back. Then Leo blew his whistle and began to beat the rope-tensioned bass drum he had equipped, and Blue began to march. He might have gotten annoyed a bit because he had things he liked to do, but he kept in step, and he had remember that one of the things CNG did to all musicians (so it's not just us "cultured" musicians, so to speak, but rock stars such as Cripto and the Rockin' Roarer also got affected by CNG; in Cripto's case, the same CNG wave then made him 100% immune to it, since it was done with him) was the fact we could march and play forever. However, we use common sense, so we took breaks, found times to eat something, and went to sleep. All the marching we do was our form of exercise, though.
Upon Leo's second whistle, the five of us marched over to the side and formed a line, keeping in step without missing a beat. Eventually we stopped marching, but we continued drumming so Blue could keep marching. The next thing he knew, he found himself in the presence of William the Bull, playing his own rope-tensioned snare drum, but wearing a blue tuxedo with a black bowtie, and marching on his hooves. (His hooves had horseshoes, by the way.) The bull eventually came to a halt, but kept on drumming, and Blue keep staring at his hooves to do the ritual.
What was the purpose of this ritual, you ask? Well, for one thing, it was my ancestor being a total jerk and psychopath, but his beliefs, which stated that a barefoot animal marching with a snare drum was to be the most respected animal of all time (which somewhat became true in a way when Leo the Patriotic Lion was elected President of the United States because he has a history of drumming on the march while padding), one is to feel the beat in his feet, and by staring at one's feet while marching or standing still, the other marcher could see proof of this happening. Even the tiny resident mice of Leo's house were doing these rituals.
It was about an hour and a half of our lives we never got back, but the payroll paid us to do things like this for a living, so that's what we did. At the end, we remained silent as the bull played one final drum roll, and Blue saluted. The bull saluted back, and then they introduced themselves to each other, and then we took a turn. John and Xaiver demonstrated for Blue their talents at their other instruments, and then we moved on to the next ritual.
The most common rituals of my ancestor are the one I mentioned a moment ago, and this one. For this second one, the five of us played timpani, or kettledrums, that we summoned, and we used Timpani Tiger's track of beating on one timpano (singular for timpani) each, and each timpano magically changed pitches along the way while keeping in perfect tune. (Normally this requires four to five timpani.) Leo and William each banged on a concert bass drum for this ritual.
To perform it, the marcher must stand perfectly still and endure the sounds of the drums in perfect silence, without complaining. This was also used by my ancestor as a means of sound torture if he thought one of his disciples deserved to be punished. (Why else do you think Leo Washington threw him in the asylum?) It began with a very loud "BOOM!" from all seven of us, and the five bears (myself included) beat another drum roll that led to a big "BOOM!" from the bass drums. Then we launched into a dramatic performance, involving cadences and other features, highlighted by the bass drums.
We didn't stop the sounds, though; we let it ring. The ringing was enough to drive Blue crazy, but he knew that he was doing this in obedience to us being obedient to the payroll, which wanted visual illustrations of my ancestor's beliefs. A few tears might have escaped his eyes, and he gulped on a couple of occasions, eventually starting to sweat bullets. But he kept himself together, and he got the courage to salute us at the end of the last drum roll, which lasted for a very long time. We then hit our drums once a few more times, and it ended with Leo banging a gong to mark the end. Blue saluted again, and we saluted back. We waited for about 10 minutes of silence before we continued.
To honor a request of Blue's, the next time we met with him, all of us (minus the bull because he was doing his own thing) were in our COTS uniforms, but we had the full band with us, and we paraded down the halls of Dark Wolf's castle, with the wolf loving everything he heard. (Blue was his regular human self for this because he and his sister, Pink, were both playing their special ocarinas, and both wanted to be their true selves.) The parade, as it usually did, ended in Dark Wolf's large band room, and we played a few more military marches to mark the occasion.
Short, but sometimes stories are that short folks, because that was our day in a nutshell. When Blue and Pink had left to go home, the five of us bears met back with Leo in his house, and we rested by playing some board games together while supervising the process of uploading our latest payroll videos to YouTube. In due time, we'd get our pay for it (and the payroll also sent Blue and Pink some money as a thank-you for their help).
THE END
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Leo's Parade Diaries:
The Sleuth Parades
Hello; this is Graham Gurdetha speaking. You also know me as Rhythm Bear, which is the codename I took when all the circus performers became G-52s. I have four brothers: George, John, Xaiver, and Henry, all of whom are percussionists just like me (this includes piano because we're counting that; we have grand and upright pianos, and not a digital piano). However, George and Henry are strictly percussionists; John is more known for playing the trumpet and the bugle, while Xaiver mostly plays trombone, and he even plays the bagpipes. I had also previously mentioned my ancestor's name, William Gurdetha, gets confusing because the same name also belongs to a bull that is a percusionist on the musical payroll system just like us, but the bull is a kind bull that doesn't make the mistakes of my ancestor. To keep us separate, he goes by "William the Bull," and he says he likes to hear the "clop, clop" sound of bare hooves marching in step to the beating of drums.
If you're confused by the title, the word "sleuth" doesn't mean a detective or private investigator; the word also means a group of bears, believe it or not, just like how the other group names include pride (lions), pack (wolves), murder (crows), school (fish), etc. (A group of bulls is just called "cattle.") Thus, the five of us, our own sleuth of siblings, were on hand to perform today. It wasn't public, though; it was just a private session with Leo the Tiger. He had his friend, Blue, with him, and Blue, because he could shapeshift into multiple forms, was appearing as a bear himself.
Nothing special, though; it was just the usual routine of doing my ancestor's rituals in order to keep the bad karma away. Though the spell was broken, we discovered, we still did the routines out of habit. Blue had seen us perform as members of COTS, or Circus of the Superstars, and so he thought we'd be in our orange and black uniforms. "I thought you'd wear your uniforms," he said. "You are a marching band."
"That's true," I said, "but we like to mix it up every now and then, and sometimes, the best way to dress is to look professional this way." (All of us, including Leo, wore suits and ties, even though we were performing barefoot.) "But you can still march."
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. Look downwards." Blue looked down at our feet, one of my ancestor's rituals, and the five of us took our rope-tensioned snare drums and beat a drum roll. Upon its conclusion, he saluted us, and we saluted back. Then Leo blew his whistle and began to beat the rope-tensioned bass drum he had equipped, and Blue began to march. He might have gotten annoyed a bit because he had things he liked to do, but he kept in step, and he had remember that one of the things CNG did to all musicians (so it's not just us "cultured" musicians, so to speak, but rock stars such as Cripto and the Rockin' Roarer also got affected by CNG; in Cripto's case, the same CNG wave then made him 100% immune to it, since it was done with him) was the fact we could march and play forever. However, we use common sense, so we took breaks, found times to eat something, and went to sleep. All the marching we do was our form of exercise, though.
Upon Leo's second whistle, the five of us marched over to the side and formed a line, keeping in step without missing a beat. Eventually we stopped marching, but we continued drumming so Blue could keep marching. The next thing he knew, he found himself in the presence of William the Bull, playing his own rope-tensioned snare drum, but wearing a blue tuxedo with a black bowtie, and marching on his hooves. (His hooves had horseshoes, by the way.) The bull eventually came to a halt, but kept on drumming, and Blue keep staring at his hooves to do the ritual.
What was the purpose of this ritual, you ask? Well, for one thing, it was my ancestor being a total jerk and psychopath, but his beliefs, which stated that a barefoot animal marching with a snare drum was to be the most respected animal of all time (which somewhat became true in a way when Leo the Patriotic Lion was elected President of the United States because he has a history of drumming on the march while padding), one is to feel the beat in his feet, and by staring at one's feet while marching or standing still, the other marcher could see proof of this happening. Even the tiny resident mice of Leo's house were doing these rituals.
It was about an hour and a half of our lives we never got back, but the payroll paid us to do things like this for a living, so that's what we did. At the end, we remained silent as the bull played one final drum roll, and Blue saluted. The bull saluted back, and then they introduced themselves to each other, and then we took a turn. John and Xaiver demonstrated for Blue their talents at their other instruments, and then we moved on to the next ritual.
The most common rituals of my ancestor are the one I mentioned a moment ago, and this one. For this second one, the five of us played timpani, or kettledrums, that we summoned, and we used Timpani Tiger's track of beating on one timpano (singular for timpani) each, and each timpano magically changed pitches along the way while keeping in perfect tune. (Normally this requires four to five timpani.) Leo and William each banged on a concert bass drum for this ritual.
To perform it, the marcher must stand perfectly still and endure the sounds of the drums in perfect silence, without complaining. This was also used by my ancestor as a means of sound torture if he thought one of his disciples deserved to be punished. (Why else do you think Leo Washington threw him in the asylum?) It began with a very loud "BOOM!" from all seven of us, and the five bears (myself included) beat another drum roll that led to a big "BOOM!" from the bass drums. Then we launched into a dramatic performance, involving cadences and other features, highlighted by the bass drums.
We didn't stop the sounds, though; we let it ring. The ringing was enough to drive Blue crazy, but he knew that he was doing this in obedience to us being obedient to the payroll, which wanted visual illustrations of my ancestor's beliefs. A few tears might have escaped his eyes, and he gulped on a couple of occasions, eventually starting to sweat bullets. But he kept himself together, and he got the courage to salute us at the end of the last drum roll, which lasted for a very long time. We then hit our drums once a few more times, and it ended with Leo banging a gong to mark the end. Blue saluted again, and we saluted back. We waited for about 10 minutes of silence before we continued.
To honor a request of Blue's, the next time we met with him, all of us (minus the bull because he was doing his own thing) were in our COTS uniforms, but we had the full band with us, and we paraded down the halls of Dark Wolf's castle, with the wolf loving everything he heard. (Blue was his regular human self for this because he and his sister, Pink, were both playing their special ocarinas, and both wanted to be their true selves.) The parade, as it usually did, ended in Dark Wolf's large band room, and we played a few more military marches to mark the occasion.
Short, but sometimes stories are that short folks, because that was our day in a nutshell. When Blue and Pink had left to go home, the five of us bears met back with Leo in his house, and we rested by playing some board games together while supervising the process of uploading our latest payroll videos to YouTube. In due time, we'd get our pay for it (and the payroll also sent Blue and Pink some money as a thank-you for their help).
THE END
Leo's Parade Diaries: The Sleuth Parade
Former circus drummer Graham Gurdetha introduce Leo the Tiger's friend Blue to his four brothers, and to the other William Gurdetha known as William the Bull.
Blue © BlueMario1016
Leo the Tiger, Gurdethans, etc. © me and me alone
Dark Wolf © 16weeks as creator, but me as owner; he gave me full ownership of that character.
Blue © BlueMario1016
Leo the Tiger, Gurdethans, etc. © me and me alone
Dark Wolf © 16weeks as creator, but me as owner; he gave me full ownership of that character.
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Any
Size 92 x 120px
Listed in Folders
Ah, I remembered we did this roleplay and you just adapted it into a story for us to read.
This was quite a something I gotta say. Him having four brothers is something special.
This was quite a something I gotta say. Him having four brothers is something special.
There's a strong bond between the brothers that cannot be broken.
And don't forget about William the Bull; he's also a loyal friend of the bears.
And don't forget about William the Bull; he's also a loyal friend of the bears.
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