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The Wonderful Cellar Band


Author:  S.C.C.C.

(DUSTY OLD) CELLAR: “Cree-eek, Ah-choo!”
EMPTY GLASS JUG: “Boop, boop!”
RUSTY SAW: “Whaaag, whaaang”
BEAT UP TRASH CANS: “Crash Bang”
FADED OLD HAT BOX: “Rat-a-tat”


Once upon a time, as many stories begin, in a DUSTY OLD CELLAR there lived a group of very
good, very old and very out-dated friends. There was an EMPTY GLASS JUG, a RUSTY SAW,
two BEAT UP TRASH CANS, and a FADED OLD HAT BOX. Now these old friends had been
in the DUSTY OLD CELLAR for a very long time. And except for being moved about from
time to time, they were left alone to rust or turn to dust. Needless to say, they were very lonely.


One day, the EMPTY GLASS JUG, in a deep low voice said, “It’s too quiet here. I wish
something would happen.” “Now really, JUG,” said the RUSTY SAW, “what could possibly
happen here?” “Why,” said the FADED OLD HAT BOX, “I’ve been sitting on the CELLAR
shelf for 20 years and all I’ve seen is two mice and a daddy-long-legs spider.” “The EMPTY
GLASS JUG is just getting older and emptier,” said the BEAT UP TRASH CANS. “Don’t pay
him any mind.”

Suddenly there was the sound of footsteps on the CELLAR stairs. Four young boys, all dressed
alike, came cautiously down the DUSTY OLD CELLAR steps. They were talking in hushed
voices. “Are they twins?” asked the FADED OLD HAT BOX. “I think they’re elves,” said the
RUSTY SAW in a lofty voice. “Nonsense,” said the EMPTY GLASS JUG. “They’re Cub
Scouts,” said the BEAT UP TRASH CANS. By now, the old friends were very curious and
excited. They listened as they boys talked.

“Boy, it’s spooky down here in the DUSTY OLD CELLAR,” said Jimmy. “Don’t be a fraidy
cat,” said Mike. “Aw, let’s go,” said Jack. “No, wait,” said Billy. “I’ve got an idea. We have to
do a stunt for the den meeting, don’t we?”

“Yea, that’s right,” the other three chorused. “Well,” said Billy. “Let’s have a band--a CELLAR
band.” “A band!” they yelled. “Sure,” said Billy, “I’ll play that RUSTY SAW. Jimmy, you take
that EMPTY GLASS JUG. Mike, the FADED OLD HAT BOX will make a neat drum. And
Jack, those BEAT UP TRASH CANS’ lids will be great cymbals.”

Well, of course, you know the rest. Den 3 made new friends with old friends, right there in the
DUSTY OLD CELLAR, with an EMPTY GLASS JUG, a RUSTY SAW, a FADED OLD HAT
BOX, and two BEAT UP TRASH CANS, and for all we know, they still may be playing.


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