"The Theft of a Bass Drum Mallet and the Exciting Happenings Surrounding this Event."

(Although this is based on a true story, remember: it is "based" on a true story. Facts might be changed, adjusted, or manipulated to serve a specific purpose. And on a side note, the event involves Lord of the Rings characters since it was a costume party, but I will use their actual genders as pronoun references. For example, our Legolas was a disguised girl, so: "Legolas shouted, with anger in her voice."

Enjoy:

The night was dark, like a place without light. The air was dry and chilly, as if the nightly low for that day was forty-one degrees with a zero percent chance of precipitation. My imaginary beard fluttered in the breeze as the air current swept in from the south-southeast direction at about six miles per hour. And, to add to the dramatic atmosphere of the scene, contemporary Christian music played faintly in the background, barely audible above the noise of the crackling fire.

As Legolas, Eowyn, and I looked at each other, we somehow knew what was going to happen that night. Although we had really only been planning this meeting for about four weeks, it felt like we had been waiting for nearly four and a half weeks. We remained quiet as a few members of the fellowship approached. Gollum approached us in his usual manner, and we thanked him for being such a gracious host and allowing us to use his home as a meeting place.

Holding the bass drum mallet in my hand, I sipped my root beer with contemplation while we waited for Frodo's car to pull into the driveway. We waited for five minutes, then five minutes turned into ten minutes, and then into ten hours. Ten hours turned into ten months, and then ten years. But we found out that Frodo's golf tournament went late after about seven minutes of waiting, so the meeting proceeded without him.

"Legolas, are we ready to begin?" Eowyn inquired.

"Certainly," I replied.

"Nobody asked you, Saruman!" Legolas shouted, with anger in her voice, "but yes, Eowyn, we are ready."

"Wait for me!" shouted Elrond, jumping out of his mom's car and rushing toward the campfire.

"Okay, well I think this is all the people who have decided to show up," Eowyn said regretfully.

"It's just like those hobbits to never show up to these sorts of things..." I grumbled to myself.

"Well, let's start out with some volleyball!" Gollum shouted, holding the volleyball up in the air. We all ran towards the net and divided up the teams. Our team decided on being called The Dark Side while their team remained in anarchy without unification. After countless victories by The Dark Side, we all heard a scream.

"The bass drum mallet has been stolen!" Eowyn cried. I felt around in my pockets for the mallet. It was no longer there.

"Saruman, where did you last have it?" Legolas wondered with anxiety.

"Um... I don't remember..." I thought long and hard. I searched the upper portions of this blog post. "Oh yeah, I had it in my hand while I sipped my root beer, waiting for Frodo."

"Are you sure that is the last thing about the bass drum?"

"Well, you can see if you can find anything," I replied. Legolas examined the blog post thoroughly, but could not find any other evidence. Then, out of nowhere, Eowyn began handing out white slips of paper, as if she was supposed to hand out fortune cookies to us but got hungry on the way to the meeting, leaving only the tiny messages.

"'Saruman wants the mallet because it has the power to control other's minds,'" Aragorn read aloud, with his luscious dark black wig tumbling about his head in the breeze and his hand on his hip as he struck a very sassy pose, "Is this true?" he asked.

"Of course not. I can control people's minds anyways."
The crowd replied in unison,"Of course not. He can control people's minds anyways."

"'Frodo knows the power of the mallet and wants to destroy it.' Well, obviously he doesn't want to have it destroyed that much since he is at a golf tournament," Faramir said resentfully.

"'Aragorn and Arwen are in love.' Whoa. Is it facebook official?" Legolas asked.
"Oh, stop it. You know that Aragorn and I are just friends," Arwen said, playfully interlocking her fingers with Aragorn. Aragorn stared deeply into her eyes, and they both giggled with excitement.

The evidence hearing continued on in such a manner for a long time. The group members then voiced their opinions. Some people pointed fingers at everyone else; some threatened to cut off said fingers. Eowyn raised her sword, crying out, "We will now find out who everyone thinks stole the bass drum mallet!"

The group suddenly fell silent, as if some loud lady had just announced something important. We each began hurriedly writing down on one sheet of paper who we thought stole the mallet. Surprisingly, it looked as if no one had the idea of erasing the accusations against themselves on the list as the paper was passed around besides me.

"Alright, the voting lines are now closed! Anyone whose name I call out must line up along the volleyball net of vindication!" Eowyn said, using a very catchy alliteration. "Legolas! Boromir! Arwen! Aragorn! Eowyn! Hey, that's me! And Saruman!"
"Saruman wasn't written down!" I shouted.

"Nevermind. Saruman wasn't written down. Now, the thief of bass drum mallet is..." her voice trailed off in anticipation. She waited for the precise moment.

No, not yet.

Just a little bit longer.

Now everyone began to get annoyed at this long moment of suspense.

Even Eowyn was getting frustrated.

Nevertheless, this awkward pause went on.

And on.

Finally, she stated the name of the thief: Boromir.

It was quite a surprise for everyone. Except for Eowyn. She had known all along. As the crowd gather around Boromir demanding for the location of the bass drum mallet, she let out an evil chuckle.

"Now you must find the mallet," she said, smiling.
"Or what?" I asked.
"Or else the school band will have to live with another lost bass drum! Mwahaha!"

She let out an evil laugh. Well, actually she didn't, but whatever.

"Do we have to?" Elrond asked, wearing his traditional cloak of shame.
"Yes," she replied.
"Aw, man!"

"I am no man!" Eowyn cried suddenly, tearing off her helmet in a dramatic manner and shaking her long hair back and forth for effect.

We began searching the moonlit and flashlight-lit forest for the bass drum mallet. It was wooden with a few strips of tape new the top where there was a white fuzzy sphere. After looking around, I spied an object that appeared to be made of wooden. It was a tree. I then realized this search could take a while. Nearly ten long minutes of searching had passed when I remembered one vital piece of knowledge: I am a percussionist.

So, using my percussive powers, I attempted to telepathically communicate with the mallet.
"Hello?" I said, telepathically, of course.
"Hi!" a small voice shouted, also telepathically.
"Is this the bass drum mallet?"
"No, this is the drumsticks," the inanimate objects replied.

"Oh. Do you know where the bass drum mallet is?"
"Yes. It resides in the tall wooden fortress."
"You mean the swingset?" I asked.
"Yeah, that thing."

I quickly said goodbye, told them to give my regards to the maracas, and climbed the mighty swing set. As I walked up the slide like a ninja, I wondered if this could really be happening. Could I finally reclaim the bass drum mallet for myself to restore order to Middle Earth? It felt like I had been without the mallet since the Second Age, and now we felt so close. I simply imagined what it would be like, holding that ancient scepter of power in my firm grip. The time was approaching when I would again reach the mallet. I finally grew tired of wondering, reached over, and took the bass drum mallet.

It was a joyous occasion. Everyone was both elated and relieved to see the bass drum mallet once again.
"Oh man, I thought I would never see that mallet again," Faramir said.
"I am no man!" Eowyn cried suddenly, tearing off-
"Alright, we get it Eowyn! You're a woman!"

"How do we know that this is the real bass drum mallet?" Gimli asked.
"Well," Gandalf said, "put in the fire! Wait, this one is made out of wood. See if it bears a message or something."
"Hmm..." I looked on the other side of the bass drum mallet. "I have found something!"


Gnuple shnuple,
Khangle bojahngle,
Bheezs Nheezs
Flospy mopsy,
Cottontail.

"Legolas, do you know the Elven tongue?" I asked.
"No! Why would I? Just because I have the pointy ears? I don't see people going around and asking people if they speak Australian just because they have a kangaroo!"

"Um, okay. I didn't mean to offend you. Oh well. The mallet has a message in Elven, so it must be authentic! Come on! How about one more game of volleyball?"
Everyone cheered, and The Dark Side did another strange team chant.
After the volleyball game ended, out of curiosity, I entered the Elven passage into Google translators. It translated:


One bass drum mallet to hit them all,
One bass drum mallet to smack them,
One bass drum mallet to provide a nice little poem to end a mystery story for all,
And in the darkness, hit the bass drum.
Made in China.

Wait a second...