Aaron Shattuck presents...

VIOLINIST OF HAMELIN TRIPLE FEATURE!

Written by Aaron Shattuck

Edited by Chippy the Transvestite Gnome

All the characters and stuff  (except for the ones I made up, which is 
quite a lot, actually, now that I think about it) are property of 
Watanabe Michiaki and Pony Cannon. No permission was given for me to 
write this. Be creative! Add in your own witty/confusing comment here!


Feature 1: GUITAR LIVES!... For a little while, anyway.

	Guitar felt his body humming with pure elation. Never before had he 
experienced such overwhelming power. He was, to put it bluntly, a god.
	He was everywhere. A multitude of furry hydra-heads sprang forth from 
him, moving with an unstoppable force. A gift from his _dear_ friend, 
Drum. He could feel that disgusting little nuisance, Oboe, dying a 
distance away. He could feel the insides of the once proud Hawk King 
impaled on HIM. HE was a distance away! HE was EVERYWHERE. The terror of 
all those around him, even his own troops, filled him with pleasure. 
None could surpass him. Not Bass or Hamelin or even that overrated 
Kestler. Mazoku's number one... Guitar!
	Then he heard the laughing. That familiar voice... It wasn't the deep 
baritone itself that made his heart turn ice, it was that he could 
tell... it was coming from HIM... and it wasn't HIS voice.
	Hesitatingly, Guitar looked up and what he saw was the worst possible 
thing he could have ever imagined. In the air with all the other heads, 
was Drum. Drum was attached to HIM. Drum _was_ HIM. This was... not what 
he had expected.
	Drum said something, but he wasn't listening. He saw the Dragon King, 
the Dragon King he was positive that he had killed, morph into a single, 
terrifying, head.
	Mouth held agape, Guitar could tell, in a detached way, that Drum was 
flying towards him. That in a mere second, he would be no more. All his 
plans would be for naught, defeated by that imbecile. But Guitar's 
conscious wasn't really there anymore. It was flying, to some safer 
place, far away.
	He didn't even feel it, when the impact hit...

	The woods were pleasant enough, as woods go. Very... green and brown... 
lots of trees and such. The woods bordered a river bank, which was also 
pleasant enough, with grass and butterflies and mud and other things 
that riverbanks have, amongst which was a river to bank. One thing that 
river banks didn't normally have, however, was what looked like some 
sort of anthropomorphic dog-thing, with another dog attached to it's 
waste instead of legs, wearing Spartan gear. This was definitely a very 
unorthodox addition to the river bank, but the butterflies didn't seem 
to mind.
	The dog-thing groaned and opened it's eyes a crack. "Splish splash!" it 
heard.
	That's funny, thought Guitar. Normally, "Splish splash!" wasn't the 
sort of sound you got from a very large Dragon King ramming into you at 
top speed. Normally, that sort of thing made more of a "Boom!" sound, 
with maybe a bit of a sickening crunch mixed in as well. Definitely not, 
"Splish splash!"
	Beside the confused Beast King, the river burbled happily.
	The blood might go, "Splish splash!" Guitar reminded himself. He was a 
bit of an expert on blood, and he knew that if there was enough of it... 
But on closer inspection, blood never really "burbled happily." Not even 
very happy people's blood. Overwhelmed by curiosity, Guitar forced his 
eyes completely open and got up. He was, he suddenly noticed, very much 
alive and not obliterated one bit.
	This was an unusual, but not unpleasant situation, under the 
circumstances.
	He also noticed, that while he was no longer a god of sorts, he no 
longer had a very angry Drum attached to him, either. So it seemed that 
he had come out even.
	Surveying the landscape, Guitar decided that staying on the river bank 
wouldn't do at all. It had way too many butterflies, for one thing. The 
woods, while certainly not foreboding, had a chance of providing a 
better atmosphere on the whole, he thought. And so he decided to enter 
them.
	The Mazoku lord walked aimlessly through the foliage, lost in thought. 
It was apparent, that his lifestyle had underwent a rather immediate 
change, from "doomed" to "taking a stroll through the woods." He was not 
at all sure how to handle this situation, as it didn't seem to involve 
killing anybody or toadying up to anybody, while planning to kill them 
much later, when their back was turned. And so he really didn't get 
anywhere at all, until a few minutes later, he heard the snapping of 
twigs. Something was approaching him, and the fact that it could 
approach him, meant that it was alive. Living things could be killed, he 
was on familiar ground now!
	Carefully concealing himself behind a large oak tree, he saw two 
figures step into view. They were obviously human children, of the male 
variety, he noted. But their dress was quite peculiar. It seemed to be a 
uniform of sorts, blue, with a yellow handkerchief tied around their 
necks. On their chest, they wore a variety of badges, the largest of 
which depicted a wolf's head and on their arms was sewn a patch with 
number "37" on it. Their cheeks were exceedingly rosy and leaves were 
pouring out of their pockets.
	"Gee-golly, Timmy," exclaimed the one on the left to his companion, "Do 
y' think we've found enough leaves for our 'Leaf Finder's badge?"
	"Well, gosh, Nigel, I think so."
	Suddenly, the two felt a shadow fall upon them. From behind, a voice 
hissed, "Well, well, what do we have here?"
	Timmy and Nigel turned around to discover the strangest creature they 
had ever seen.
	"Gee whilikers," wondered Nigel, "What's that?"
	"That's not important, little boy," growled Guitar. "The real question 
here, who are you?"
	"We're Boy Scouts, Troop 37!" declared Timmy, proudly. "We're much 
cooler than that lame Troop 24, 'cause our Scout Master's the best!"
	"Yeah!" agreed Nigel. "Scout Master Willem's cool! He even blindfolded 
us and dropped us off in the middle of nowhere, so we could find our way 
back and earn our 'Navigator's badges!" 
	Nigle waved his compass to punctuate the statement.
	Guitar blinked in surprise. This wasn't the normal response he got from 
small human children.
	"Say, Timmy," wondered Nigel, nudging his fellow scout, "What do you 
think he is?"
	"I dunno," replied Timmy, honestly. "He's furry and he talks... Maybe 
he's Smokey's friend!"
	"Smokey?" asked Guitar, thoroughly confused.
	"Yeah! Smokey the Bear! He teaches us about how only we can prevent 
forest fires and stuff! He's Scout Master Willem's friend!" Explained 
Nigel enthusiastically. "Scout Master Willem knows him, 'cause he's got 
connections and stuff!"
	"Are you Smokey's friend, too?" asked Timmy.
	Guitar's face shifted from surprise, to a sly smile. "Why, yes I am," 
he said sweetly. "I'm Smokey's special helper. Why don't you take me to 
your friends?"
	"Oh, boy!" shouted Timmy. "D'ya think there's a 'Finding Smokey's 
Special Helper' merit badge? Huh, do ya, Nigel?"
	"Scout Master Willem'll know if there is," confirmed Nigel. "Scout 
Master Willem knows everything."

	Traveling with the two Scouts, Guitar had discovered that they seemed 
to have an inexhaustible of supply of praise for their "Scout Master." 
It didn't take him long to deduce what they were really about. The 
uniforms, and the descriptions of their rigorous "Camping Trips" and 
"Activities" made their situation obvious to him. Guitar chuckled to 
himself, military training at such a young age, this "Scout Master 
Willem" truly must be something.
	It was obvious that wherever he was, it wasn't the home he knew. Even 
the most backwater hick town had been forced to learn of the Mazoku, and 
these children obviously didn't. He would have to adapt to the 
environment, and perhaps drinking this "Scout Master"s blood would prove 
quite useful for that task. If he were as powerful as the two foolish 
runts claimed... The only problem, he figured, was what to do with this 
pint size militia, afterwards. Should he kill them or could they be of 
use to him? His train of thought was abruptly interrupted, by Timmy's 
shout of glee.
	"Yippee! We made it! We'll get those merit badges for sure now!"
	The area was spotted all over with tents, all uniformly small, save for 
one big one. The tents circled a clearing, the center of which had a 
camping fire roaring in the middle of it. Out of the tents rushed other 
small boys, dressed the same as Nigel and Timmy and out of the largest 
one walked the Scout Master.
	The Scout Master was a slightly pudgy, middle aged man. His eyes were 
bright, his cheeks had dimples and his upper lip sported a small 
mustache. His uniform had more badges then any of the boys and one of 
them proudly declared "SCOUT MASTER" on it.
	"Glad to see you made it, boys," chimed Scout Master Willem, 
pleasantly. "You're just in time for the weenie roast!"
	Guitar eyed the jovial man warily. Could this be the fearsome leader 
that had been described to him?
	"Scout Master Willem!" shouted Nigel. "We found Smokey's Special 
Assistant! Is there a 'Finding Smokey's Special Assistant' merit 
badge?!"
	"Hmm," pondered the Scout Master, inspecting Guitar. "I don't think so, 
really."
	"Aw," pouted the two boys.
	"Don't worry, boys! Because you didn't die, you two are up for a very 
special 'Navigator's merit badge! And if I don't miss my guess, you've 
been working on that 'Leaf Finder's merit badge!"
	This seemed to lift the two boys' spirits and they shouted with joy, 
running towards the direction of the camp fire.
	"So, you're Smokey's Special Assistant?" the Scout Master asked Guitar.
	"Errr... Yeah," confirmed Guitar. His mind raced at a mile a minute. 
Did this "Scout Master" see through him? If so, could he be a threat to 
him? The risk was substantially high.
	"Well, I hope you like weenies!" laughed Scout Master Willem, his pot 
belly jiggling in delight.

	Guitar stared in amazement at the objects speared on the sticks, that 
the Scouts held over the fire. They appeared to be... some kind of 
meat... wrapped in intestines! Such a subtle nastiness, Guitar thought, 
his eyes moving to rest on the Scout Master. Such nastiness would spring 
from great power...
	"Hey, let's sing a song!" suggested Scout Master Willem, who was 
greeted with several enthusiastic cheers.
	Guitar ignored the song, which seemed to be about a bear eliminating 
all of his friends so he could have more sleeping room (a notion Guitar 
could sympathize with) and stealthily moved towards the Scout Master's 
back. He had decided that he would claim this man's power, and continue 
these human's training. Soon, he would lead the most dangerous fighting 
force that this world, whatever it was, had ever known.
	Carefully... carefully... The man's bulbous back was now towards him. 
Just one, quick...
	Slash! Guitar's sword slid, with practiced ease, through the man's 
neck. His head slowly slid off and fell into the fire, roasting with all 
the weenies.
	The Scouts didn't move.
	Guitar grinned maliciously. No matter how powerful someone was, they 
always forgot to guard their back properly. He slowly licked the blood 
from his sword, feeling the molecules bound with his own. Yes! This 
man's power was now his! Suddenly...
	Suddenly all the stupid little human children looked extremely 
attractive. 
	Guitar shook his head. This... this was definitely _not_ right! There 
were certain levels that even a Mazoku should _never_ sink to, and this 
was definitely one of them. No matter what, he had to make sure that he 
wouldn't take off their uniforms and...
	Guitar sighed, it was obvious that he was going to have to kill the lot 
of them.

	The former Beast King of the Mazoku groaned and rubbed his aching back. 
Just his luck, that the minute he had decided to kill them, the Cub 
Scouts had snapped out of their shock and ran screaming. It had taken 
_forever_ to track down them all, and he had to fight off _other_ urges 
the entire time, as well.
	Exhausted was definitely the word to describe him at that moment. 
Guitar wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, making 
sure that none of it got anywhere near his mouth. No telling _what_ 
would happen if he drank _that_ stuff. 
	Sighing deeply, Guitar realized it would be wisest to leave the seen of 
the crime. Slowly, painfully, he began to walk.
	As he walked, Guitar felt his spirits begin to rise. If that was what 
constituted as a fearsome lord in this world, then he shouldn't have any 
trouble taking it over, he thought. Yes! There would be screaming and 
blood and fire and s'mores...! No! Not s'mores! Well, maybe some sort of 
blood s'mores... And... and gutting and killing and little boys in 
tight... No! Just killing!
	Suddenly, Guitar heard a sound very much like "Blam!" and his train of 
thought ended abruptly.

	"Say, Ewalt, whut's this here thang, 'xactly?" asked a very grungy man 
as he prodded the furry corpse with his foot.
	"Aye dunno, Vern," admitted another grungy man, carrying a smoking shot 
gun. "At first aye thought is wuz a dear. But now et looks layk some 
sorta... double-dog thang..."
	"Whay don' we take et home an' stuff it, anyway? Aye betcha th' 'Waykly 
World News'd come on bay t'say et!"

The End.


Feature Two: BASS STRIKES BACK!... Not really.

	Hell King Bass was not one to be caught without a plan. The possibility 
of Prince Lute waking up and escaping his possession, while far fetched, 
was not lost on him.
	So when the unbelievable happened, not due to the prince's willpower, 
but merely because he was knocked out, Bass had a back-up plan to fall 
onto. It would mean the complete destruction of his Skeleton Army, but 
that was preferable, over the complete destruction of himself.
	Summoning his remaining power quickly, Bass transported himself to 
subspace, leaving a carbon copy of his head to crumble to dust. The 
fools would think him dead, while he would secretly plot in the shadows, 
gathering strength until the fateful day of revenge! The overlord of the 
Mazoku chuckled to himself, even in defeat, he could taste victory at 
the tip of his tongue. Scanning quickly, he found a hole in the absolute 
nothingness of subspace and flew through it. It was a tricky gambit, 
where he would appear would be completely random and he'd have to find a 
host body _fast_.

	A hole of complete nothingness appeared in the night sky and out of it 
flew a head, blue with death. Hell King Bass quickly looked around and 
moved to fall towards the only person available to him.

	Slide Whistle the baby, could tell that something was wrong. His 
undeveloped brain was still quite sketchy when it came to "logic" and 
"reasoning," but he somehow felt that this was not the environment he 
belonged in. He should've been in, well, possibly a crib of some sorts 
or at least a variation on that. He definitely _didn't_ belong in a 
dumpster.
	Slide Whistle felt that this situation called for him to fall back on 
what he did best, which was to cry. It never occurred to him that 
perhaps the reason he was in this predicament in the first place, might 
have something to do with that. He continued to wail, until a rather 
large (for him) object fell on him, and he didn't need to think, no 
matter how simplistically, any more.
	
	Bass had never realized how heavy his own head was before. Of course, 
he had never been an infant before, either.
	It had taken hours and hours and even more of those, simply to get 
himself from the dumpster, to two blocks down the street. He groaned as 
he inched forward, his head clutched in the baby's stubby little arms. 
It wasn't the fact that, crawling being the only possible means of 
transportation, his head was becoming seriously scratched up, that 
really bothered him. Nor was it the humiliation of wearing an unchanged 
diaper. No, what was really getting him down, was the fact that if he 
left this body for even a moment, he really _would_ crumble to dust. He 
could _never_ leave this stupid body! Ever!
	He really wished he had foreseen the possibility of this predicament 
before, but couldn't imagine how he could have.
	Was it just him or was he going even slower than before?
	Oh, no! he thought, realization hitting him heavily. You're starving to 
death, aren't you, you stupid body?!! Aaaaaah!!!
	Out of a shroud of doom, walked a single man. The man walked up the 
street towards Bass. He was casually dressed and carried a bottle with 
him.
	"Hey! Hey, buddy!" cried Bass and Slide Whistle in unison. (Actually, 
for Slide Whistle it was more like, "Hggg! Hgg, booboo (grrgle)!")
	The man stopped short and stared at the baby carrying a corpses head.
	"Hey, can you give me a bite to eat?" asked Bass, Slide Whistle doing 
the baby-talk equivalent.
	The man stared a bit more and then ran away as fast as he could.
	"Hey, get back here!" screamed the enraged Hell King. "What are you, 
some kind of... of baby hater or something?!!"
	Bass shook Slide Whistles head, mournfully. What was the world coming 
to?

	A half an hour later, Slide Whistle died of malnutrition, taking Bass 
with him. This event went unnoticed by almost every one, save for a few 
stray alley cats, who were pleasantly surprised at the unexpected meal.

The End.


Feature Three: I Have A Friend In You, Mr. Clarinet!

Clarinet walks onto one of the many patios, high up on Sforzend's 
palace.

The sound of The Birthday Party's song, "Mr. Clarinet" starts up.

Clarinet: Being able to make a Nick Cave reference, was the only reason 
I was written in this story at all.

Clarinet jumps off of the patio and plummets to his death.

Sorry Clary.

The End.


All right, for starters, no one needs to tell me this whole thing was 
pointless, I'm quite aware of that, thank you very much. Basically, this 
was written because "Violinist of Hamelin" is my all time _favorite_ 
anime TV series and so I figured that I oughtta write a fanfic on it 
(especially considering that I can count the grand total of Hamelin 
fanfics in existence on one hand.) Now, many of you may have never heard 
of "Violinist of Hamelin" (though one wonders why you'd be reading this 
if you didn't), so let me tell you that my particular form of 
"literature" (snicker, snicker) doesn't do it justice in the slightest. 
It is the BEST SERIES THERE IS! AND IT DESERVES MUCH MORE PUBLICITY THAN 
A LOT OF OTHER CRAP SHOWS ARE GETTING! I suggest you get the first 
volume, which has been fansubbed by 3NA (Studio Frustrate's doing the 
translations, named so, I suppose, because they're taking a 
frustratingly long time to do them. They're doing a good job, though, I 
should add.) And then get the original laser discs or DVDs from the UCI 
Anime Store (they have the soundtracks, too)! Or luck out, like me, and 
have the whole damn series available to rent at your local Japanese food 
store (go figure.) Believe it or not, I'm actually thinking of starting 
a not-quite-so-pointless Hamelin fanfic, that would be a continuation of 
the series, taking cues from the original manga. However, I have to get 
some more manga before considering that (first of all, I need to figure 
out what the fuck's with Orphel! Since I'm planning on making him a 
major character.) In case you're wondering, I have no idea if there's 
really a Cub Scout Troop 37, I just picked a random number. Sorry if 
that's your little brother's Cub Scout troop or something. Oh, and I 
know that there was never once a dumpster featured in any town in the 
series, but it's not as if every square inch of every town that existed 
in that world, was shown. So I figured I could get away with it. Yeah, 
that's the ticket... And no, there is no explanation as to why Guitar 
got transported to Earth instead of dying, sorry. Okay, enough 
jabbering. As usual, I'm Aaron, this is Chippy...

Chippy: I hate you.

Yeah, what else is new? This is the my master, the demon queen, 
Kalgara...

Kalgara: Hello!

And my e-mail address is dilandau2@hotmail.com. Write to me and make me 
feel all squishy inside! You _know_ you want to!


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