Love? How Square!
Part One

Warning: The following text contains large amounts of humor, randomness, insanity, nonsense, and may or may not be flammable. Please do not present flames to this story and risk having your screen explode. Thank you.

"Julie, what are you wearing?!" shrieked the band director, Mr. Redfield.

It was the first day of summer band camp, and everyone was supposed to wear shorts. However, a third-year trumpet named Juliana Julson was a stubborn girl who insisted on wearing pants instead. No one was quite certain why, least of all Julie. She was simply the kind of girl who did what she wanted, never mind what anyone else thought.

"I am wearing jeans and a T-shirt," she answered promptly.

"You are supposed to be wearing shorts! If you go out marching in this hot weather wearing pants, you will melt!"

"I can't wear shorts! It's against my moral values," she said, and then added as an afterthought, "And my religion."

Suspiciously, Mr. Redfield asked, "What religion?"

"Pants-ism. We believe shorts are not meant for human use, so we only wear pants." The girl stared into Mr. Redfield's beady eyes defiantly, daring him to argue.

The band director frowned. Pants-ism, eh? If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was lying... But, then again, this was a government-funded college marching band, and religion was always a touchy subject here.

"Well... fine, you can wear pants, but be sure to drink lots of water, and the moment you start to feel bad, you sit out immediately. Alright?"

Julie nodded obediently, and he left to go bother someone else. As soon as he was out of sight, she grinned. That had been almost too easy...

After overhearing the entire conversation, a second-year percussionist by the name of Bob Case approached her and said, "Julie, I didn't know you were a pants-ist! My cousin is one too."

Julie gave him an annoyed stare. "There is no such thing as pants-ism, moron. I made it up so Mr. Redfield would leave me alone!"

"My cousin is really into this pants-ism stuff. She tried to convert me and everything."

The trumpet player opened her mouth to respond, but decided it wasn't worth it. Bob's head was as dense as it was empty. Getting the truth through to him was like trying to teach a dog to meow. So without another word, Julie turned and walked away, leaving a clueless Bob behind.

"What, did I say something wrong?" Bob wondered aloud. He shrugged and went back to his percussion section.

An hour later, as they practiced marching outside, Julie began to understand why everyone else wore shorts. She was sweating profusely, and the heat seemed to radiate from her skin. After a lightheaded feeling had set in, she was ready to sit out. However, her body had other ideas.

The strain was simply too much. A body had limits, and when you exceed them, you had to suffer the consequences. Thus, without warning, poor Julie fainted.

Everyone heard the loud thud and clang when she hit the ground, her trumpet landing beside her. Curious, the band members all gathered around her as they muttered amongst themselves.

A glance at the scene was all it took to set Mr. Redfield into action. As he wandered off to call an ambulance, he shook his head sadly and muttered, "I told her this would happen, but did she listen? No, of course not! Nobody listens to me. After all, I'm only the DIRECTOR of the whole band..."

The next day, Julie was still unconscious. The band director sadly announced to the band that she was in a coma, and there was nothing they could do but wait and see if her condition would improve.

When Bob found out, he was outraged. Oh, if only those evil pants-ists hadn't converted poor Julie to their pants-ist ways, she would have worn shorts and would still be alright!

He would not stand for this. Those pants-ists needed to be taught a thing or two, and Bob happened to be an excellent teacher.

With his mind made up, Bob hopped up onto a snare drum and declared for the whole band to hear, "I shall revenge Julie's death by suing the evil pants-ists!"

Katelyn Schwimmer, a second-year flute and Bob's next door neighbor, glanced at the boy in concern. As gently as possible, she tried to break it to him, "Bob... she's only in a coma, and there's no such thing as a pants-ist..."

But, as he always did, Bob ignored her logical statement and said, "Kate, get me the phone book. I need a lawyer!"

"Hello, I'm looking for Eldon Everage the lawyer," Bob said into the telephone. Since he had never hired a lawyer before, Katelyn had written down what he should say earlier, and now he was reading the sentences off of flash cards.

A man's voice replied, "This is he. How may I help you?"

"Yes, Mr. Everage, this is Bob Case. I would like to sue the leader of the pants-ism movement for causing my friend's comma."

"Your friend's... comma?"

Wait, that wasn't right... Bob squinted at the flash card. "Oh, I meant, my friend's coma. I want to sue the pants-ists for causing my friend's coma."

"Oh! I see, I see," Eldon said. He had no idea what a pants-ist was, but he sensed a potential client here and that meant money. "Those pants-ists can be quite deadly, yes? Hmmm... This could be difficult - pants-ists have bought off judges before, you know."

"I don't care. Julie deserves revenge!"

"Julie? Is that your comatose friend?"

Bob nodded, and then waited for Mr. Everage to continue.

"...Sir? Are you there?"

Bob nodded again.



"...Never mind," Eldon replied. "Now, about my payment – how much money do you currently have?"

"Uhhhh... let me check," Bob said. Hastily, he dumped out the contents of his pockets onto the floor and counted it up. "Exactly $21.69 and a spare gum wrapper."

"Oh dear... I'm afraid that's not nearly enough! Do you have any items of great value?"

"I have a holographic Charizard card."

"A... card?"

"Yes, a Pokemon card. It's the rarest of its kind," Bob explained. "Or, if you want, I could sell you my soul!"

There was a pause as Eldon realized that he was dealing with an idiot here.

"I see... Well, you're obviously quite passionate about pursuing this lawsuit, so I'll make you a deal. To pay for my services, you will give me the money and... Charizard card, was it? However, you must promise to name your firstborn child Justin."

"Justin? Why not Eldon?"

"Let's just say, the name amuses me... Now do we have a deal or not, Mr. Case?"

"If I do all that, you'll sue those pants-ists for everything they have?"

"Of course. We shall sue them for every last penny they have ever earned in their wretched pants-ist career! We shall sue the hair off their heads, the clothes off their backs, and yes, even the very pants off of those pants-ists!"

Briefly, Bob considered the price. Naming his future child Justin in exchange for all the pants-ist money and pants he could ever dream of owning... Sounded good to him! "Alrighty then, it's a deal."

"Good, good. I'm glad we agree, Mr. Case..." Eldon's satisfied grin could practically be heard over the phone. "Now, let's discuss the details..."

(AN: I apologize if Eldon Everage doesn't sound much like a lawyer, for I have never met one before. But he isn't exactly an average lawyer either, so it's okay if he's bit odd...)