Soon enough the band finally comes on stage. Frank applauds enthusiastically for his brother, while you can also see a tent appearing in Vinny’s suit pants. Wrapping his arm around the blond mobster’s shoulders Vinny drew him close and asked him to tell him about the various members of the band.
First was Laughlin, Franks younger brother (or rather that of Farrell, Frank’s old persona) and that was plainly visible. Although considerably slenderer than you remember Farrell being and younger (that boy could hardly be 21) he shared his older brother’s blond hair and most of his facial features. A freshman at the local community college, majoring in Creative Writing, Laughlin was the band’s singer and songwriter. Quite tall, but lanky Laughlin wore his hair long, his face clean shaven (according to Frank he was not yet able to grow a proper beard) and was dressed fairly simple, in jeans, a video game t-shirt and a sleek looking leather jacket.
The rest of the band, called “Sociopathic Dolphin”, was just as squeaky clean and freshfaced as Laughlin; on the guitar was a pudgy guy with curly, brown hair named Riley, while the bassist was the band’s sole female member, a Japanese American girl named Aimi with her long, pitch black hair done up in a sort of bun, the keyboardist was a ginger guy named Donovan, the only member of the band who had at least a hint of facial hair and the drummer was a skinny kid called Lionel, sporting a long, dark brown ponytail and fingerless gloves.
Stepping up to the microphone Laughlin introduced the band and declared that their first song would be a cover of Blink 182’s “All the Small Things”
As the band started playing you reminisced that your old persona had liked that song, so had Keith, actually. Now you found it to be trash; your new self didn’t like any sort of rock or pop in all its countless variations. Neither did Vinny, you were sure. By the time the second verse starts you are already mildly annoyed by the noise and those kids flailing about on stage. Taking a sip of your drink you glance at Vinny, wondering if “supporting the family” of one of your club’s members was really worth listening to this drivel.
To your surprised Vinny returns your glance and winks at you “Well that’s quite enough of that,” he declares as he raised the keys, pointing at the band on stage.
“Hey!” Frank protested and wanted to grab Vinny’s arm, but was intercepted by Tony, who forced him to sit back down.
“You said you wouldn’t turn Laughlin into one of us, boss!” Frank protested, struggling in Tony’s grip.
Vinny gave him a smirk “I won’t turn him into one of us…”
*click*
On stage the keys immediately took effect, the first one to be hit was Riley. The pudgy watched baffled as his guitar tore itself from his hands, the strap fixing it to his shoulder snapping. The instrument floated in mid-air, straight in front of Riley and started spinning; at first slowly, then faster, faster, and faster. Finally the guitar just became a blur. There was a flash of gold as the stage light hit it and…instead of a guitar there was now a glinting saxophone floating in mid-air!
There was just enough time for Riley to raise an eyebrow in confusion before a stream of glittering musical notes emerged from the saxophone’s bell and, like so many bees started to swarm around the startled boy. Under the magic of the musical notes the pudgy boy’s body started to change, becoming longer and leaner as Riley lost his pudge and instead gained several inches in height. Even his frame changed; his shoulders growing wider, his arms more muscular, his whole body became fitter and more masculine, ripping his gaming t-shirt and ratty jeans.
His face, in additional to losing its pudge also grew manlier; his nose gaining a sharper cut, his chin becoming more pronounced, a three o’clock shadow appearing on his cheeks. He also seemed to gain at least five years, his skin losing some of its youthful freshness. Finally his messy, curly mop of hair retracted back into his skull, receding slightly at the temples it rearranged itself into a neat, pomaded style.
Riley’s torn clothes morphed into a snazzy three-piece suit, complete with vest, wingtip shoes and a trilby on his head. Now the swirl of notes released him.
At first the former guitarist looked completely perplexed at his changes, examine his new suit in disbelieve, but quickly, something inside of him seemed to go “click”. His face taking on confident expression he straightened his tie and then took hold of the instrument floating before him, becoming a sexy sax man.
Behind the new saxophonist, Donovan, the keyboardist had just enough time to have his eyes widen in shock at his friend’s transformation before the swirl of notes took hold of him next. His transformation was similar to Riley’s; a messy millennial rock musician being converted into a smooth jazz pianist in his early thirties, but he was distinguished from the sax man in that his sparse stubble grew into a handsome, full ginger beard and that he wasn’t wearing the coat of his suit, giving visual prominence to the sleeve garters on his dress shirt. His keyboard swirled around him and rematerialized as a proper piano around him. Like with Riley there was a moment of confusion before Donovan slipped into his new persona, spun around smoothly on his heels and sat down on his piano.
Next the drummer, skinny Lionel lost his long hair and finger-less gloves as the notes converted him into the third member of the jazz assemble. His drum set changed the least, merely taking on a more classic appearance.
Finally the swirl of notes reached Ami and caused the petite Asian girl to grow into a tall, broad shouldered, blond, blue-eyed Caucasian man. Her, or rather his, expanding body obliterated Ami’s punk top and skinny jeans, exploding form the fabric, displaying expanses of rough, hairy skin. Hands grew from delicate and feminine to big, beefy and manly. The makeup disappeared from her face, lips grew thinner, features hard and European.
“Ami” naturally reacted with shock to this change, gasping loudly and then clasping his hand in front of his mouth, shocked at the sound of his voice.
But as the fragments of “Ami’s” old clothes rearranged themselves, suiting up the new man to fit in with his band mates the good fella’s new personality kicked in and he confidently gripped for his bass guitar, which had expanded into a huge, upright jazz bass.
While Frank’s brother, Laughlin was now the last member of the band left untransformed, the swarm of magical music notes did not go for him next, rather it rushed down from the stage and sucked up a random guy sitting at a table, like a tornado. The guy tried to fight it, grasped the edge of his table, reached out for his friends to help him, but to no avail, he was taken into the whirlwind and carried back to the stage. When he went in, the guy was a young, jockish looking type with a dark blond undercut, dressed in a college letterman jacket, by the time the music notes spit him onto the stage his skin had changed from white to black, his undercut to a close trim, his letterman jacket to a matching three-piece suit and he was playing a trumpet.
Only now the swarm of music notes descended upon Laughlin, who by now had stopped singing and was visibly freaked out about his friends seemingly disappearing and being replaced by a jazz band.
The boy was looking to his left and right “Dudes?” he asked frightened, “Riley? Ami? Where are you?”
Seeing the swarm of glittering, magical music notes coming down upon him Laughlin gasped and attempted to shield his face…and was completely engulfed. Under the smooth tunes of the newly created jazz assemble the skinny, barely adult boy expanded into a hot, broad-shouldered man in his mid-thirties. His long, blond hair retracted into his head, darkening in the process until it was pitch black, his green eyes turned a steely grew, a 5-o’clock shadow graced his face, together with a smooth, slightly crooked smile. Laughlin’s leather jacket and jeans melted into a sharp pins-stripe suit with a bright red tie and matching pocket silk and golden cuff links, shiny black wingtip shoes covered his feet and a matching trilby descended upon his head. In a smooth, suave movement the new singer took his hat of, gripped the transformed, now very old fashioned looking microphone in front of him and started to join into his band’s smooth tunes with his equally smooth voice as they now preformed are very nice, classic vocal jazz number.
As you watch the new band performing on stage, Vinny flashes you a smirk “Much better, dontch’a think?”