"And Combat Chuck has passed away; his dying wish was, "Never play that song again." And Kitty-Doggy's put to sleep; the dinosaurs lay in a heap, as they slowly go extinct, like me. And that's how the story ends, now you hear the score my friends. We're finding answers, we're setting trends. I guess that's how the story ends." These touching lyrics originated in a sad song speaking of a heartbreaking event: the death of Five Iron Frenzy, the greatest band to exist on this planet. Many true fans grieved over this dastardly episode, and it has been the wish of many (including yours truly) to reverse the damage that has left unforgettable scars, and to hear Five Iron Frenzy play with all the talent and glory that ska bands possess. To the immense anguish of all, this event is impossible. Some of the band members are married, others are tired after eight and a half years, some are now in different bands – in other words, it is ridiculous to think that all eight members of this glorious band will ever all have the ambition to resurrect this brilliant band.

But maybe this dream of many is not as impossible as one would think. In fact, it is not impossible at all! Truth be told, the gloriousness of Five Iron Frenzy was given new life just the other day! All it required was a little bit of frustration, a conveniently placed nail, dead batteries, and some pretty dang good luck. Just the other day, I was outside working on a wooden birdhouse – a birdhouse, may I add, that I really did not want to have to build. The wood was rough and un-sanded, and frankly, I do not like splinters. And to make things better, I had no access to any sandpaper and was stuck without transportation, inhibiting my ability to buy the sandpaper. Needless to say, I was becoming slightly frustrated in my hopeless efforts to create this birdhouse. I tried to pound another nail into the mutilated wood, but the nail bent. I yelled out in frustration and flung the bent nail away, where it handily landed in the street. The offending hammer was also pitched aside, though it landed with a soft thump in the grass. Muttering curses directed at the birdhouse, I stalked angrily back inside, slamming the door behind me. I had no sooner walked down two flights of stairs than I heard the doorbell ring. Still muttering curses (though this time directed at the fact that I had to go all the way back up to whence I had just come), I made my way to the front door. Pasting a fake smile on my face, I answered the door with false cheerfulness. There, standing at my front door, was Reese Roper, the legendary lead singer of the magnificent band I mentioned earlier. Evidently, the tour van of Mr. Roper's new band had the incredible misfortune of hitting the nail that had been so cruel to me earlier. One of the wheels on their van was completely flat. Luck was not on their side, because it so happened that each of the four members' cell phones' batteries were completely dead. Therefore, a phone was needed for flat tire assistance, since I obviously couldn't change it for them (especially since there was a distinctive lack of a spare in their van). I lent Reese the use of the phone in the kitchen. When he was done speaking with the AAA guy, he turned to me and asked if there was anything he could do to repay me for the great favor I had bestowed upon him. I, of course, had the perfect idea in mind: just one more show of the marvelous Five Iron Frenzy, and a convenient location where I could easily come and see it. I told him thus, and surprisingly, he readily agreed. He even added a bit of his own, telling me that the revived band would even produce another CD. I thanked him profusely, bidding him farewell (and also assuring him that I would be at the next Five Iron Frenzy show, as well as the next Roper show – and asking why the heck he had been driving on a residential street, anyway!) as he left with his band in a van with a brand new tire.

How did this affect everyone else, you may ask? I'll just say that I was the innocent victim of mad jealousy by other devoted fans. Then acted on nothing though, because face it – I had just gotten another Five Iron Frenzy show, along with the promise of a production of a brand new CD. The final concert caused a few minor problems, though. The masses of cars poured in from all over, clogging the streets and highways for miles around Minneapolis. Reports of accidents were numerous as the crowds all tried to get to the concert as soon as possible. The piled cars emitted – um, a lot – of moles of toxic fumes, enough to cover the city of Minneapolis with a brown haze. The fumes caused the complaints of sickness to dramatically rise, but the Five Iron Frenzy fanatics just told them to shut it. Despite everything, the good effects of the concert and the CD far outweighed the bad.

Oh, and after Roper left my house that day, I went and found the nail I had bent in my birdhouse attempts. It now lays in a glass case in my bedroom, immortalizing the moment that caused that seemingly impossible wish to come true.