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A write-your-own adventure story

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Author	Topic: A write-your-own adventure story

Panda Oscar® Nominee	Rules: 1. Keep it G-rated, please. 2. No bashing. 3. You may write as much or as little as you like. THE CALL OF THE TRUMPET You are strolling along the waterfront, at a large and busy port. Ships are coming in: Cargo ships, liners, cruise boats--- You look up, and besides seagulls flying and squawking as if that was all there was to life, notice Rachel Portman standing on one of the huge liners. "Hello! I've been looking all over for you," she waves, smiling. "Catch this!" She throws down a large leather case at you. You stammer back and barely manages to catch the case, so heavy it is, before it smashed into a thousand pieces on the concrete dock. "This is the legendary Silver Trumpet," Rachel explains. "It has powers beyond even a film composer's. You are the only one who can find its owner and return it." "But where does he live?" You ask. "I'm not sure. I don't even know who the owner is, only that he is a film composer. But you must hurry. The Pragmatic Producers are after it!" With that, her ship was already drifting out to sea at astonishing speed. "Who are the Prag-" It was too late. She could no longer hear you. You know you must find the owner of the trumpet. But who was he, and where would you find him? And why did Rachel choose you, anyway? Perhaps you could find an answer at----
posted 10-24-2001 09:15 PM PT (US)

JJH Oscar® Winner	Shaun Rutherford's House of Ill-Repute
posted 10-24-2001 09:23 PM PT (US)

Al Oscar® Winner	Shaun stood wearily at the bar, mumbling the Raiders theme and downing shots of rum as fast as he could pour. It was obvious he was attempting to numb his agony over the current state of film music, but it didn't seem to work. The moment he saw the trumpet in my hands, he swallowed another shot and said, "Oh, let me guess. It plays U.S. Marshalls too, huh?"
posted 10-24-2001 09:32 PM PT (US)

Scott Oscar® Winner	I look at the trumpet in my hands. I turn here and there and try to guess the weight. I look at Shaun. He looks like Hans Zimmer on a bad dog day afternoon, wishing he could take one of his legendary baths. "So, really. Where you'd get that thing from anywyas" I frown, for I don't like where this is going. I sit down and lean over " Rachel Portman gave it to me." "Rachel huh?" Shaun, sits up "Where'd she get it from?" "She doesn't know" I reply. There is a knock at the door. It is a loud, forcefull knock. "Police, open the door." I glance at Shaun "What did you do now Shaun?" Half gone he looks at the door, then at me and says " I didn't do anything. If you ask me, they are looking for the trumpet" I look at the trumpet while the voice behind the door continues "Open or we will break the door in. We have a search warrant" "You better get outta here" Shaun get's up and points to the window leading to the rear of the house "Your best bet" I run towards the window, and begin to climb out. "What do I do next?" Shaun looks at me, with glassy eyes as if he is miles away " Dunno. Just don't ask the US Marshall" he starts laughing. I jump.... Scott
posted 10-24-2001 10:41 PM PT (US)

Nicolai P. Zwar Oscar® Winner	... up and down, down and up, up and down, and down and up... but soon after the door bursts open and I realize that this jumping doesn't do any good. When the Marshall enters, I am shocked to see that it is...
posted 10-25-2001 05:17 AM PT (US)

Panda Oscar® Nominee	John Debney! There he was, in a faded brown military outfit, grinning like he'd just scored a real hit movie. "What----are you doing here?" I asked, mouth wide open. "Just taking shelter. It's raining cats and dogs out there. And I have a job to do for the princess - I'm protecting her diaries." "Oh," I said, relieved. Then I remembered my mission. "Mr. Debney," I asked, holding out the trumpet, "does this belong to you, by any chance?" He glanced at it for a second. "No. This---" Then, it was his turn to open his mouth. "It's the Silver Trumpet! Quick, we have to hide!" With that, he pulled me behind the door of a closet. "You hear those cops out there? They are really the Steele Men. Their specialty is to grab and take without being detected. The Pragmatic Producers have sent them!" I shivered, hearing sounds of clattering and clanging from the next room. "How did you know?" I asked him. "Rachel told me. She also told me to tell you what she couldn't tell you herself: If the trumpet's riddle leaves you forlorn, Then seek the one whose surname is Horn. You have to leave this house as fast as possible, and then find him." "But who is he?" I questioned. "Is he the owner of the trumpet?" "He is a very noted composer. That's all I know. You can find him at----
posted 10-25-2001 08:43 PM PT (US)

Panda Oscar® Nominee	(Sorry for the lousy ending) ----the Moviemusic.com Clubhouse at Twenty-five See-Same Street. You can find just about any composer there." I thanked him and quickly darted out of Shaun's yard, trumpet in hand. After a tiring, sweaty long run, I finally reached See-Same Street. By then, the rain had stopped, but----
posted 10-31-2001 09:30 PM PT (US)

JJH Oscar® Winner	Shaun blew and blew and blew until...
posted 10-31-2001 10:17 PM PT (US)

Marian Schedenig Oscar® Winner	Suddenly, a BIG FAT MAN stood in front of me. "Noone expects the Pragmatic Producers!" he shouts with an evil expresion on his face.
posted 11-01-2001 07:44 AM PT (US)

Panda Oscar® Nominee	"I wasn't expecting you anyway," I mumbled. "I don't think you would be!" The fat man growled like a bear. "Now, hand over that trumpet!" Very nervous now, words just slipped out of my mouth. "It's just an ordinary trumpet," I said. "And you can't have it." He laughed, a very unpleasant laugh at that. "Nice try, kiddo. But as surely as my name is Will Knott, I will not give up trying to get that trumpet from you. Whatever it takes," he hissed, grinning evilly as he produced a large metallic tube from his shirt pocket. His finger raised to press the button. "You see this? If you don't hand the trumpet over, a neutrino-laser beam will roast you to a beef crisp. Now it's your choice, kid. One, two---" I am surely doomed, I thought. Suddenly, I remembered what Rachel told me. The Silver Trumpet had special powers! Desperate for help of any kind, I raised it to my lips and blew with all my might---
posted 11-02-2001 01:57 PM PT (US)

Marian Schedenig Oscar® Winner	SQUEEEEEEK
posted 11-02-2001 02:13 PM PT (US)

Panda Oscar® Nominee	With the shrill, unmelodic note that I blew, the newly fired neutrino-laser beam suddenly got sucked INTO the trumpet. "Wow!" I muttered to myself. No wonder the Pragmatic Producers wanted it. After all, they love to suck people up. "What is this?" Will Knott cried, fearfully tearing off across the street in an elephantine manner, nearly running into a truck in the process. "You could use a few lessons," someone said from behind me. I turned around to see---James Horner!
posted 11-08-2001 09:00 PM PT (US)

Marian Schedenig Oscar® Winner	"Mr. Horner" I said, showing him the trumpet and a strange thing that had dropped out of it when I blew it, "these...are for YOU!"
posted 11-09-2001 09:30 AM PT (US)

jeffy Oscar® Winner	"Thanks," said James, as he glanced at the sheets of original music for his upcoming Mask of Zorro sequel. "I was doing research from my old scores to find ideas, but these are wonderful! I never thought music like this was possible." As quick as a flash, James ran off to Abbey Road Studios to book the London Symphony Orchestra to play the new score. Feeling happy, I strolled down the street twirling the trumpet like a baton. But when I got a few blocks from my daily visit to the local used CD shop, the clouds rolled in, shielding the sun. Then a gust of wind nearly blew me off my feet. Then the skies opened and the heavens released the ghost of ----
posted 11-09-2001 10:08 AM PT (US)

Marian Schedenig Oscar® Winner	Bernard Herrmann! "What the #?$%/@", he cried, looking fiercly at me. [Message edited by Marian Schedenig on 11-10-2001]
posted 11-09-2001 10:46 AM PT (US)

Panda Oscar® Nominee	With all due respect, one of the rules was "Keep it G-rated, please!" (How about: Bernard Herrman says "What in the name of Miklos Rozsa is this?") [Message edited by Panda on 11-09-2001]
posted 11-09-2001 12:19 PM PT (US)

Marian Schedenig Oscar® Winner	Hmm, forgot that even harmless swear words get censored in US films... But the only option is to completely remove Benny Herrmann - there is not G-Rated Herrmann.
posted 11-09-2001 03:29 PM PT (US)

Panda Oscar® Nominee	Dear Marian: I don't think Bernard Herrmann has to be cut out. You could just make him not swear. I know this may be unrealistic, but this story thread was never meant to be real. After all, since when did James Horner score his movies with music that fell out of a trumpet?
posted 11-10-2001 12:43 PM PT (US)

Nicolai P. Zwar Oscar® Winner	"¼Ã±³¾°ÓëÆ", said the ghost of Bernard Herrmann. "¼Ã±³¾° ëÆ·ÅÆ!!!" Fearfully, I stared into the bespectacled eyes of the ghost of a great composer. "Mr. Herrmann", I replied, "please, for crying out loud, this is a Disney produced storyline." A soft smile suddenly appeared on the face of the ghost of Bernard Herrmann, and with the wink of an eye that would have made Bambi proud he said: "ÅÆÐÐÏúÖÐ ÅÆÐÐÏúÖÐ ÂÔË¼¿¼ÂÔË¼¿¼, ÆÐÐÏúÖx ºÎÈÃ¿Í»§!!!!" It became clear to me that he wasn't too big a help at this moment. Perhaps I should continue to my local CD store? "Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Herrmann", I finally said. "We'll have to chat some more some other time, but the new Williams CD is waiting for me in the store." "Æ·¼°·þÎñµÄ¹ã!", I heard him say, waving. Or was that a fist? Ghost features aren't always clear. I decided to walk just a tad faster than I usually do. "Æ·¼°·þÎñµÄ¹ã!", he screamed. "Æ·¼°·þÎñµÄ¹ã!!!" I ran.
posted 11-10-2001 03:40 PM PT (US)

Panda Oscar® Nominee	My feet did not touch the ground, and I floated in the air as if swimming. Cars flew above my head, their wheels not moving. I was going home. In a flash, right in front of me appeared Tina Arena. She was singing the Zorro song: "I want to spend- my- life- time- laughing at you---" Wait! This did not make sense! Nothing did! Nothing---- Then I opened my eyes. Cold concrete below my body. Blurry figures crowded above me. "He's awake!" One of those figures said. "You've been out of it for a while, kid," said another. I must have been lying on the footpath, unconscious. Of course! I'd been dreaming all this time. How did it happen? Perhaps it was the trumpet's magic power. Or maybe I just slipped and banged my head. Maybe Mr. Horner knocked me over when he ran off in such a hurry to record his new score--- The trumpet???? "Oh no!" I cried, as a cold fear seized my heart. "The trumpet's gone!"
posted 11-11-2001 12:01 PM PT (US)

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