Now, Let It Be War Upon Your Blog

There was only silence in the Opera d'Junior High as the newest member, Julian, His Highness In Charge of the Finding of Automatic Motorized Transportation Vehicles, entered the opera. He turned up his collar. A air of sinister sinisterness pervaded as he slipped through the darkened door like a dark unnoticeable slippy thing. The Nosy Nadir Like Figure noticed the Mirrormask reference. Everyone else was hopelessly lost.

Julian shook in terror as a statue seemed to snarl at him from the shadows. It was a puppy, so he wasn't that worried, but still. "Hello?" He called, in a manner most appropriate to the dark and slightly cobwebby setting. "Is anyone home?"

"Squaaawk! Gah! Ack! Ow!" A small, rotund blonde boy exploded from the aforementioned shadows, being chased by a slightly taller dark boy wearing a wet suit. The slightly taller dark boy wearing a wet suit (STDBWAWS) screamed out, "Maaax! Never, never, never lick me!"

"But I was thinkiing. . ." The small rotund blonde boy (SRBB) whined.

"That has nothing to do with it!"

"Oh, fine," said a much taller curly haired boy, (MTCHB) walking in. "So that's granted, but nevertheless. . ."

"Ahem," said Julian politely.

"Well, I don't see how -" Began the SRBB, but was interrupted by the MTCHB, who said dryly, "No, obviously not!" The STDBWAWS nodded vehemently.

"Ahem," said Julian again. Slightly less politely.

"And I can't believe you almost tricked me into going snorkeling in the J.G.'s lake!" Said the STDBWAWS, still fuming. He stripped off the wetsuit, revealing a rather anticlimactic T-Shirt and jeans. Hey, this is a clean blog. The STDBWAWS, now, in fact, since he'd taken it off, the STDBWJAATS, suddenly turned to stare at Julian. "Who the hell are you?"

Julian shifted his weight nervously. "Um, I'm Julian. . .I'm the new Highness In Charge of the Finding of Automatic Motorized Transportation Vehicles."

The MTCHB looked skeptically at Julian. "I didn't think we had an old Highness In Charge of the Finding of Automatic Motorized Transportation Vehicles."

The SRBB glared at him. "Since when has this place made sense?"

"Point. Oh, hang on, my phone's buzzing, I think I've got an emmy-mail." Emmy-mail, in case the rest of you lot have forgotten, was the not-terribly-ingenious system that Gabe and Ben had devised for the Opera communications. It worked a lot like email.

To: The Nosy Nadir Like Figure
From: The J.G.
Subject: His Highness In Charge of the Finding of Automatic Motorized Transportation Vehicles
Message: Get on with it, will you?

The MTCHB looked up from his phone. "I think we should get on with it."

There was a short and pointless silence. Nothing happened. Nothing continued to happen.

"I'm Ben."

"Max."

"Gabe."

"David," said a boy who appeared completely out of nowhere.

"Julian."

The aura of menace had not yet dissipated from the room. And so Gabe shivered as he said to Julian, "Come on. We've got to get you a room."

As the group descended the stairs into the dormitories, the Sane Personage poked her head out of her door, looked disapprovingly at them, and remarked pensievely, "It'll all end in tears, I know it."

"Hey, well, we were expecting a punjabbing, so we'll take tears. . ."

The insanity in the room was about to spontaneously combust, so the SP took the opportunity to leave. As they strode into the dorm courtyard, a voice was suddenly heard. A deep, foreboding voice, that they had heard only in their worst nightmares. (Except, of course, in Max's case. . .his worst fear had to do Diet Coke becoming a controlled substance.)

"Who dares to pass these portals? Some mere mortals? Those who claim to be a ghost that. . .um. . .a ghost that. . ."

"Maniacally chortles?" Offered Ben helpfully.

"That'll work, thanks, daroga. A ghost that maniacally chortles? Speak you all the password!"

"Umm. . .open sesame?" Gabe ventured.

"J.G.?" Max guessed.

"THX Review: Corpse Bride," Ben said with finality.

The doors opened. Everyone stared at him. "Um," Ben provided, "I think for some reason she remembers that."

At this point Ben didn't even have to tell them not to ask.

And then the doors opened. . .a pair of shackles and a tombstone adorned the far wall. And there, inscribed in large decisive letters. . ."Poor Old Julian, His Highness In Charge of the Finding of Autom."

"The finding of autom?"

"I don't think they could fit the rest."

I remain, gentlemen, your faithful and obedient servant,

J.G.