September 14, 2026

Marching Band Stages Coup, Declares Band Room An Independent Funk Republic

Marching Band Stages Coup, Declares Band Room An Independent Funk Republic

Memorial High’s marching band has taken control of the music wing in a bloodless yet extremely loud coup, establishing a sovereign micro-nation known as the United Funk Republic of Percussia. The uprising began when the school threatened to replace the band’s practice period with “productive study time.”

“They left us no choice,” said drum major Kelsey D., who now wears a sash that reads “Secretary of Bass.” “We have rhythm. We have snacks. We have zero intention of returning to algebra.”

The band now operates under its own anthem–a six-minute jazz-funk jam titled “Rebel Sousaphone”–and has implemented a dress code of sequins, kilts, and aviator sunglasses. The trombone section controls border security, which consists mostly of making people say “syncopation” correctly.

Teachers attempting to reclaim the space were met with a coordinated drumline maneuver known as “The Wall of Sound.” One AP Chemistry teacher retreated after being trapped between a tuba solo and a fog machine. “I respect sovereignty,” she mumbled, covered in glitter.

Negotiations with school administration have stalled. The Funk Republic demands recognition, weekly pizza delivery, and a permanent float in the Homecoming parade. Principal Harris, wearing noise-canceling headphones, stated, “We’re trying diplomacy, but they keep talking in slap bass.”

The band has begun issuing passports made of old sheet music. Visitors are encouraged to bring earplugs and a funky attitude.

Annabelle Bransford

Hi, I’m Annabelle Bransford, Memorial High School’s unofficial satirist-in-residence and proud founder of The Daily Detention—a publication so edgy it’s been banned twice and resurrected three times, like a sassy phoenix with a flair for detention slips. I write satire because someone has to hold the line between cafeteria chaos and gym class tyranny. Whether I’m exposing the secret emotional feud between our Algebra teacher and Euclid, or investigating why the pep rally feels like an ancient ritual sacrifice, I try to speak truth to hallway power. Sure, I’ve been called “disruptive,” but mostly by people who wear lanyards unironically. My work has been read by at least two janitors, my entire AP English class, and one substitute teacher who thought it was a cry for help. I consider that range. When I’m not sharpening my wit, I’m dodging group projects, winning banned book club trivia, or mentoring the school's AI Isn’t Funny Club (membership: just me and 17 bots I’ve emotionally manipulated). I’m also a National Merit Semi-Finalist, certified eye-roller at Student Government meetings, and the only girl in school who’s been accused of “weaponizing irony.” My goals? Keep writing, keep laughing, and one day publish a satirical exposé called Yearbook Superlatives and Other Lies. If you want something sugarcoated, try the bake sale. If you want the truth with a punchline, I’m your girl. I've landed a sweet job at Bohiney Magazine, so don't bother me. EMAIL: annabelle@bohiney.com

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